Fair is fair, after all, if he's going to keep being so sweet. If she goes and tweaks his nipple deliberately, then she looks a bit too pleased with herself, settling into a good rhythm with him. Like this, she feels settled in her own skin, connected to her body in a pleasant way, present enough to sense everything around her. The pleasure she feels not reflected in him, but his own enjoyment, still from the same source, trickling to the very tips of her fingers. A lack of self consciousness, an abundance of desire, his name breathed out like it's a call and a response in one.

Oh, one could argue they barely know each other, but they've promised, haven't they, to talk more? Doesn't it raise more intriguing questions, if later, she dwells on the sort of man he is to bed strange magicians with intent on seeing them later, with his dark hair and quick wit. There's time to get to know each other, and she intends to do so. Hardly like they can be formal with each other after this.