Her huff of laughter turns into a low moan as he moves from kissing her to pressing himself against her, and she arches back against him reflexively. There are so many ways she's missed him-- her partner, her closest friend, the father he could be to this baby-- it feels almost silly to put sex up there alongside the deep, emotional things he is to her. But God, she missed being touched terribly; her body has been sensitive and wanting and she's been alone for what feels like forever.

He'll find her already spectacularly wet, the anticipation more than enough. She bites her lip, torn between the sensible answer-- slow-- and what she really wants; she wants all of him at once, wants him to fill her and claim her, as though it weren't already obvious that she's all his. Being this close makes her feel wild; the heat and scent of his body so familiar, so overwhelming.

"Slow," she murmurs, because this is unknown territory. "You feel so good," she adds, gasped as her hips jerk impatiently in spite of her good intentions, desperate for more of him.