"I hope you wouldn't, in any case." He didn't protest at her kisses, but slowly pulled out of her, moving to set her back on her feet. His breathing was still a little ragged, but only a little; he was fit, and he recovered quickly. "If ever it reaches the point where you have to pretend, I'd sooner know about it." He said it gravely, as if he were worried she might not take it on board, and leant in to kiss her on the forehead.

It was good to see her like that, satisfied and smiling. Maybe it was strange that the first time he felt like he'd made her feel at home was right after fucking her up against a wall, but he wasn't about to complain. Even as the relaxed contentment of his afterglow began to withdraw, the reality of the situation creeping back in, it was worth something to know that something today had gone well.

His thumb traced the mark he'd left on her collarbone, and he smiled again, just a little. "If this goes on," he mused aloud, "we'll both be carrying each other's marks for weeks." There were worse things.