"Can't argue with that," Danny replies, post-sex come-down making him surprisingly agreeable given how seriously he takes his craft projects. He rubs his hands along Hedwig's thighs, massaging the muscles he can still feel vibrating below the surface, and rests his forehead into the crook of his neck.

He notices reddening thumb prints on the front of Hedwig's hips and brings his hands back up, fitting them perfectly over the marks left on his skin. Danny hadn't realised just how tight he'd been gripping them. Just like he hadn't realised how hard he'd been biting last time. With Hedwig, it's like he has permission to really let go and listen to his body. Just like in jazz class when he was seven. Or when he's listening to The Boss.

Danny flops down on the bed with a groan of satisfaction, arms outstretched, head rolling to the side. It's a positively religious sight.