He moves and she does, too, in the space of a breath; trading places, Gwenaëlle doing the rest of her finding composure curled lazily to the shape of him, draped over his body and making herself quite at home there, tucking her head so she can commit that smile to memory and treasure it without feeling quite so immediately vulnerable looking back at him. There's all these -

She's got lots of practise at meaningless sex. And she likes the alternative, but it's new and strange and permanent in a way that has to be processed.

On top of him. It's comfortable there, she's going to do loads of her processing in this position in the future.

“There'll be no getting rid of you now,” murmured into his collarbone, warmly affectionate in a way she rarely is.