[ambrose tucks his head down, preening under the touch of her hand on his head. his nose makes its way into the soft skin inside her wrist, and he shapes his lips over the faintest tracery of green veins within it. her skin smells like -- something he could sell for millions, if he could bottle it in essence.

that's not creepy, you're creepy.]

There are other secret languages which I wonder that you speak, and what dialect, what poetry you favor, [he says.] One day, I'll summon up my little courage and come knocking on your door. [his eyes crinkle warmly. he spends a beat after the end of that sentence breathing her in, feeling the last softening of his dick inside of her.

and then he straightens his arm. a bit of showing off, maybe. he can perform a very good pushup. but gently, as he disengages the slick mess where their bodies are joined.]