They hadn't made love the night before.
She wanted to, of course, but he'd insisted that they sleep first.
It had been a long night, full of emotions and tears, and they needed rest.
But now, it was morning.
And she was determined not to wait any longer.
Her hands slipp below the waistband of his boxers.
He was already aroused, like any healthy male was in the morning.
But the feel of her hands on his skin brings him to full attention in seconds.
Her hands move slowly, back and forth across the soft skin.
Her fingers trace the length of him, pressing in all the right places.
He gives up trying to put coffee in the filter.
He turns in her arms, backing her up against the table.
His kisses are slow, explorative, teasing.
His hands move the robe off her shoulders and his lips kiss his way down her neck.
His lips suck a nipple into his mouth and her throat lets out a low moan.
He skirts his hands up her sides, lightly tracing his thumbs under her breasts.
He releases, but blows across the wetness left behind, watching the bud harden at the sudden chill.
Now their back in his bedroom and she managed to secure the upper hand.
She traces the muscles of his chest, his stomach, and the tops of his thighs.
But she's no longer in the mood for foreplay.
She scoots upwards; positioning herself just above him, then slowly lowers down.
He lets out a deep moan.
"Yes" she sighs.
As she begins to move, his hands come to rest on her hips.
His thrusts become more urgent.
Her pants become heavier.
His fingers tighten, leaving small crescent moon marks on her skin.
She moves faster, fingers rubbing just above where they are joined.
And then the dam breaks.
They lay there, breathing heavily.
The sweat begins to cool on their naked bodies.
He pushes a stand of hair off her face.
She kisses his cheek, rough with morning stubble.
He kisses her lips, swollen from their love making.
And in their post coital haze, they laugh when remembering that he never did manage to start the coffee.
AN: I hope you liked the conclusion. Let me know!