The passion still exists, the wanting, threads of the same need that had been evident between them when he had been transfigured into something altogether inhuman but possessed his own level of awareness, of empathy towards her. That feeling had no doubt prompted him to seek her out in his attempt to make amends for what had transpired, but what he could not have predicted is how his actions would instead endear him to her even more, his concern for her wellbeing softening any remaining apprehension she might have still possessed.

And now, he handles her delicately yet deliberately with the hands that carefully roll down her stockings one at a time, exposing the pale lengths of her legs all while he feeds her the rising sensations of his own need, leaving her half-breathless before they've even shifted to remove anything else.

She can feel his firmness, though, the strength of his frame as her hands curve over his shoulders to assist with the shedding of his jacket, and it only leaves her more curious about what he looks like without those other layers in the way.

"You were on your knees once before and that served us plenty well," she murmurs, against the tilt of his mouth, chuckling warmly as her arms wind across his shoulders and she draws him in between the spread of her thighs, his touch caressing over their softness, and their kiss deepens, acquires more hunger. She tastes the flavor of the tea on his tongue when her own dips past the seam of his lips to tangle with it, and when she retreats again she's panting lightly. "Though we need not do this here. There are any number of beds upstairs, if you like." Then again, this wouldn't be the first time she has fucked on this couch.