"It's like you read my mind," he told her, smile audible in his voice, but he took the time to kiss her shoulder before he pulled back, and moved, having no doubt that she would be right behind him. Less that she read his mind, more that they knew each other more than well enough by now.

On the old mattress, on his back, pillowing a hand under his head as he watched her, happily, his second hand wandering down to stroke himself, lightly, almost absent-mindedly; his attention was too focused on her.