She’d made coffee hours ago. His went untouched and hers was half empty. Both were cold. 

He loved her laugh. It’s soft yet ever present melody excited him. So, at her requests of him stopping his onslaught on the delicate skin covering her abdomen, he simply refused.

“I have papers to grade!”

The words came out chopped between her melodious laughs and gasps. “Your surrender is logical”, he smirked, wrapping his hands around her sides and lifting her up, “but, I take no prisoners.”

They paused, eyes meeting the way clouds collided before the storm. She wrapped her arms around  his neck, and pressed her forehead to his, “you already have.”

And the storm hits.

She never really needed the coffee.