He only exhales when he’s well and seated in. Sex isn’t a need by any means, no, but it sure as hell is nice in his book, and after so long on his own, just sitting here with the feeling of Ossie around him is doing weird and new things to his brain chemistry.

“The wait,” he chuckles, “gee, what a compliment. I’m doing great.” (A massive understatement, if the Glamour he’s bleeding is anything to go by.) “What about you? Good so far?”