I do laugh a little when he topples over me, bracing his weight on his hands to keep from crushing me completely, but he's tall and lean and settles over me, recovering quickly from the sudden shift in gravity, his lips already descending over my skin as he works his way down. My head is swimming from the alcohol, from the light fall onto the bed, and it's easier to just close my eyes and focus in on this, on the feeling, touch and warmth, as every other sense fades away.

I don't hear his breathing, but I feel it against me, a heated stream of air that counters the light chill in the room and coaxes a shiver from me, forming goosebumps on my skin as my nipples harden and I shift beneath him with a sigh, a roll of my hips and an arch of my spine, fingertips digging into the coiling muscles of his back as he moves over me. It feels too good for me to try and remember to speak, so I don't bother, relying on the sounds that stream from my lips to encourage him on.