Warmth radiates from her, everywhere they touch, pouring into him. She kisses him back, clasping him close. Her touch runs down his arms, his sides, his hips - and yet, for all the desire that's so easy to read, it never once strays towards his back. Fever promised, after all, and if she thought she couldn't keep the promise, she would ask him to bind her hands so she could keep it.

Somehow, her hands wind up in his hair, running through it and using the leverage to gently coax his head back. All the easier then to kiss down his jaw, his neck. Where a pulse would beat if he had one, where she might be otherwise tempted to leave marks.

"All this time before us," she murmurs into the hollow of his throat. "I'll make good use of it." Until he can't doubt that he's being handled with affection. A different day, she might have sunk her teeth into him - but restraint. Something kinder than that.