I can't do it myself, can I? I can barely even move right now. You were pretty good about making sure I couldn't.

[ And maybe he's gross enough to just pass out in bed all sweaty and sticky but she's got some standards...!

She lets out a little huff and, with visible effort, eases herself up onto her elbows so she can look down into his face. Calling her a mess is underselling it - her hair is tangled and sticking to her skin with sweat, her cheeks still flushed and streaked with drying tear tracks, and her mouth is bruised and swollen from all the kissing... and biting.

But... somehow there's a familiar twinkle in her eyes. ]

Besides. You like this part just as much as I do.