"Sam." She wriggles a bit, pushing back against the hold, but not, uh--not as hard as normal. (She's not really still, McNally; the first couple times were more like sparing than sex, her knobby knees and sharp chin, lips and tongue and teeth and how it was all mixed up, him on top then her, again and again until they fell off the bed.)

"Yeah?" He transfers her wrists to one hand, gets the other down between them to trace messy circles over her clit. Andy whines, bucks up. "Uh-uh, McNally--" he brings his face down to hers. "Hold still. It's science."

Her eyes flash at him, but she stills. (And yeah, okay, she is definitely letting him--huh. That's...new.)