A phrase in Yaval comes back to her, one she's heard him say before.

"T'estimo," she breathes in between the collision of lips, moans rippling the surface underneath, air pushing it all down as it comes rushing from her mouth. Her eyes flicker open, burning with the light underneath as it traces the delicate and familiar patterns of his face. "T'estimo," she repeats, a hand coming to skirt across the edge of his jaw as flips herself over and on top of him in a fluid dance of muscle and bone.

The change of angle and position makes her cry out, dark hair coming to curtain her face and counteract the lightness of her eyes as they peer down at him, lips curling with hedonistic pleasure. She leans herself down, close enough to bring her mouth near his ear, skin brushing against skin as she whispers.

"Come for me."