Andy gets her lips against his hairline, at the uniform row of stitches at the side of his face. "Um," she says into his mouth (and she's shaking, a little, arms wrapped monkey tight around his neck). "It's, um. Possible. That I'm going to need you to do that a lot in the future."

Sam grins once, hard and bright (he just--he doesn't know exactly which part of that sentence is--yeah). He gets his hand between the tile and the back of her skull, kisses her slow and sloppy. "I think we can probably make that happen."

"Good." She's got her hips open wide, now, one knee up the side of his body and pushing at the back of his jeans with her foot. "Sam," she says, low and urgent, fist opening and closing in the hair at the back of his head. "Take these--" 

He helps her get his pants off, Andy muscled tight around him, shoving at his boxers with her toes. She arches a little, slides herself along the full length of his cock, then lets go of his shoulders long enough to reach down in between them and line him up, no hesitation.

(No condom, either. 

So, uh. That's new.)