She made a happy little humming noise at the press of his lips against her knuckles, squeezing gently with the arm still looped about him. It was progress, at least, if excruciatingly slow progress. It felt less like foreplay and more like gentling a spooked horse into doing what she needed it to. Of course, if she ever needed a horse to do something - or hell, a person - most of the time she'd just make it.

So instead she did the closest thing she could think of. She tuned her face in and yawned against his shoulder, settling in warm and limp against his body, a boneless press that wrapped her around as much of his far larger frame as she could manage, and gave a tiny sigh.