"Ah," he said, startled by her sudden determination, though he shouldn't have been. She always threw herself in head first, her jaw set with stubborn purpose.

Doing as he was told, he collapsed onto his back, thighs spread, underwear trapped ridiculously around his knees.

Huffing out a laugh, he said, "I didn't," with stubbornness of his own. Her hair shifted beneath his touch, his fingertips pressing gently against her scalp. He was fixated on the odd feedback loop of the immediacy of the bond between them, and the muted, liminal quality of her touch.