He worries her mouth nearly as much as he worried her nipple, with a hint more roughness and hunger. There's maple syrup on her breath from the bacon, a dash of rabbit, a hint of wine, and interesting but not unwelcome mix.

His abs are still taut from sitting upright, the first quiver running through them at the exertion. He leans forward further to ease some of the strain, pushing her weight back onto his supporting hand.