He hasn’t anticipated the hand in his hair, or the sweetness of it, how he feels wanted and treasured and so wildly vulnerable. He melts under that touch, warm little sounds escaping him, his lips leaving off briefly as he’s lost in the sensation.

It’s like some spell has broken between them, or maybe finally gotten its bearing. They’ve been skirting around this so long and now it’s hard to believe it’s real, and at the same time he can’t believe he was such a fool to doubt it was there. She says his name, claims him, and his whole chest aches with brightness. The next time she kisses him, his tongue seeks out her mouth, like he wants to touch her every way he can.

And then he feels her shifting, a gap between kisses revealing the dressing gown slipping down. His heart skips. There’s no reason not be close that way. No reason to feel shame for how badly he wants to. She’s here, and she’s made so clear she wants to be with him as much as he wants to be with her.

“Here, shift this way,” he whispers, repositioning his own body into recline and reaching down to adjust his hardening cock before sliding her hips back, arching with a moan as she settles over the towel directly above his heat. He guides her back to kiss him, body shifting against her. “I like you above me,” he grins.