He's still there, when I can summon enough energy to open my eyes again, my entire body warm and loose-limbed, a feeling of pleasant satisfaction working its way through my veins as if my heart is responsible for pumping out the feel-good hormones, causing it to course through me from head to toe. On a reflex, I reach up to run my fingers through his hair, my palm cupping the back of his head, keeping him against me, inside me for a few more moments. There's no question I'll be sore tomorrow, but it's difficult not to smile even now when I realize what the gentle pain in my muscles is bound to make me remember.

My skin is still oversensitized, nerve endings working overtime in the aftermath, and as his fingers caress up my side, I shiver and gasp before a lazy smile works its way onto my expression and I groan, stretching lazily underneath him, tensing for a few beats until I collapse back into a slow ebb of endorphins.

"Fuck is right," I murmur, another breathless laugh slipping past, and I blow hair away from my face, turning my head to look up at him as his nose brushes along my cheek, and then my jaw. I reach up to push a few strands of his hair back from his forehead, fingertips sweeping dark pieces away and lingering there, against his temple.