It's perfect, breathless, demanding and perfect. Careful as she must be, even if not for herself, but not to jostle him too far on his injuries. But for a moment she drinks him in, watching him lose himself, feeling how he pulsed within her where he always made her so full. Taking those seconds and the adjusting movements to savour it.

But he needs more, and so does she, and she needs to balance herself. Cannot lean on him like she usually did. Instead she lent back, her hands bracing behind her as she tucked her knees better below her, and with it could take up a proper pace. An indulgence too, where he often had to coax her to he so open, she let herself sit so exposed to his view, her breasts heavy and full as she rocked with quick breathes, rising and falling to ride him, exposing him by only an inch to sink back down, snug and hot, as she felt herself clench around him readily when he's deep as he can be. Wanting every bit of him, a hitched moan each time that bleeds when she rises up again. A seamless haze that wants as much as it gives.

The relief palatable that washed through her. They were one again. It was all a lie, and this was where they both wanted to be.