[He had no doubt that it would be good, even without the flush of her heat drawing them together, but then he has the benefit of having been a little clearer in the head when they first made love. He kisses her now, gentle and unafraid, and he finds the taste of candied plums lingers. Fainter, but still there, still sweet. Something soft.

He wasn't expecting her to slide into his lap, but as she moves to straddle him, he finds no reason to object. He makes an mmph? into the kiss and puts his hands on her hips to steady her, unnecessarily.

His eyes are closed, forehead nestled against hers, but he murmurs:] Careful, now. We've been known to start getting intimate even without a soft surface to stretch out on.

...gods, but you smell sweet.