In 10, maybe 15, maybe 20 minutes, they'll be back here. A different position, maybe a little rougher, maybe not, but they'll be sweaty and clinging and gasping for air around their need for each other. And like every other time, it'll be better than the last. But right now? She's not worried about what will happen in 20 minutes. 20 days. 20 years. She's trapped in the present by his weight, his scent and his breath and the seemingly endless edge of her orgasm. She kisses him back, sloppy, panting around their lips, sobbing gently as she chases her release with hard, fast rolls of her hips. Her pleas join his, nails digging into the skin of his hands, the soles of her feet slipping on the skin of his calves until finally, finally, she arches away to try and breathe as she comes. The blood rushing in her ears just barely manages to mute her screams, the rest of her body shaking. She tugs her hands free, cupping his jaw to try and regain some control of the kiss but she fails, unable to get coordinated around her moans and shaking. "Noah, Noah, Noah, b-God..."