Viola woke up in Rhys' bed and stretched lavishly, a sweet shudder running through her body, from her fisting and unfisting hands, to her toes she curled and uncurled with gusto. She stretched again, taking the shape of a seastar, and giggled. Perhaps, there was something to his whole idea of a flock of duvets and pillows inhabiting his bed. After the film the previous night, he'd left for the spare room, carrying two duvets and a heap of pillows with him - and she still felt like she'd spent the night surrounded by fluffy soft clouds. Viola looked at her phone. It was half past four, and she felt rested and full of energy. They had gone to bed around eleven, after all. She slid off the bed and went in search of her ex-husband. She wasn't repeating the same mistake: she was going to wake him up, say her goodbyes, and head back to the surgery. It would be a substantial walk, so she decided it would replace her jog. She'd been slacking recently, but she decided to be kind to herself and remember the events of the last few days, which surely could excuse her lack of obsessive working out.

The li-lo was utterly too short and narrow for him, and she shook her head at the ridiculous man. He should have chosen the sofa, she thought, approaching him. He slept on his stomach, one leg bent in its knee, she could see his hairy calf stick out from under the duvet. His long arm hung off the edge of the li-lo, knuckles touching the floor. His shoulder must be healing well, she thought, there was no tension in his position.

"Rhys," she called softly. "Rhys, it's morning, and I'm going to leave now, and I–"

"Sod off," he muttered from under the duvet, and Viola snorted.

"I bet you'll regret this when you're awake. Love, I'm going–"

"Sod off," he repeated and turned his head, facing away from her, burrowing under his covers.

She could only see the top of his head, with his curls sticking out of the cocoon of duvets he was packed into.

"Well, this went well," Viola said and chuckled. "Don't say I didn't try this time. And to think of it," she continued musing out loud, "I was worried about waking you–"

Suddenly, he jerked, flailed his right arm in the air, rolled on his back, and sharply sat up.

"Vi?"

Viola laughed, leaned forward, and ruffled his hair.

"Hey," she said, and he grinned sleepily.

"Hey," he answered and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "What time is it?"

"Apparently too early for good manners," she said with a chuckle. "You just told me to sod off."

His jaw slacked. "I did what?!"

"Twice," Viola answered - and then cupped his face and planted a firm, heart-felt kiss on his lips.

He twitched in her grip, but recovered quickly, and his hands lay on her waist. Viola decided if she didn't want this to go out of control, she needed to stop right now - and then she pushed forward, falling onto him with all her weight. He fell backwards, without stopping his enthusiastic kissing, and his arms wrapped around her tightly.

A few minutes later, she was disheveled, he'd bunched up her - his - tee, and she was squirming on top of him, greedily seeking more contact with a certain part of his anatomy.

"Vi, but we still–" he mumbled into her neck he was kissing. His tone was tortured. "It's the same aggro– We don't– Bugger it–"

Viola wiggled her hips especially enthusiastically, and he gave out a pained groan.

"I'm going to– right in my pants–" He continued coughing out raspy unfinished sentences, while she started jerking the hem of his tee up, trying to get to his - lovely, lovely - stomach. "Like I'm fourteen–" he muttered, and she looked up along his body and saw him squeeze his eyes shut.

"When did you last have sex, Rhys?" she asked, and his eyes flew open.

"It was– after that bascule bridge–" he gritted through his teeth, trying to concentrate.

She suddenly remembered it about him: he was absolutely incapable of thinking straight when he was aroused. One-track mind, indeed. When she'd started dating Hani, she'd been shocked by how clear-minded and articulate he'd been while they were intimate. He could analyse, plan, and discuss while naked in bed with a woman. Rhys was all about raw instinct, insatiable touching, and the overwhelming drive. At the moment, he didn't even question her inquiry. The miniscule amount of his cognitive abilities unobscured by the arousal was trying to figure out the timeline of his shag history.

"October," he finally announced.

"Seriously?" Viola exclaimed in surprise. "That's a hell of a dry spell!" she said with a laugh, but she doubted he heard her. "When was the last time you had unprotected sex?" she amended her question.

"With you, ten years ago," he answered without hesitation.

Viola felt touched - and relieved.

"Darling, I'm on the pill and clean," she said, and he focused his burning eyes on her. She gave him a smile. "I trust you. And if you are alright with–"

She never finished that sentence. With a loud growl, he wrapped around her, and rolled off the li-lo, making sure to land on his back on the floor, protecting her from impact. And then he moved in one fluid movement - and she laughed, and opened her knees, accommodating him. His weight, his scorching body, large and strong, his shoulders rising under her palms in deep, ragged breaths - all of his felt familiar, and new, and exciting - and Viola closed her eyes and lost herself in him.

***

"Why are we on the floor when we have a bed?" Viola asked, when she was finally capable of speaking.

"I'm on the floor," Rhys answered. "You're on the li-lo."

He was right, Viola realised. She was on her back, her legs hanging off the edge of the li-lo, while he was kneeling on the floor, his upper half on top of her. He was excruciatingly heavy, his whole body relaxed and sweaty. Viola tried inhaling and whined under him. He pressed his palms into the li-lo and rose slowly, with a groan. He straightened up and looked down at her. Viola smiled lazily at him.

To think of it, she had absolutely no idea how they'd ended up where they were. Hadn't it all started on the floor? She remembered the sensation of running her palms on his shoulders and his nape, on his heated skin - which meant his shirt was off by then - and the low rumble in his throat, and his lips, and the delicious feeling of his scorching hip brushing against the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh, and her grabbing handfuls of his silky curls. They'd been so hungry for each other - pushing into each other, pulling each other closer, to get more, to give more, to taste more, to feel more - that they must have moved quite a lot. She had a flash of memory of him rising on his knees, and how her legs were wrapped around him tightly. He must have lifted her and put her on the li-lo, but she couldn't recall it. It was just a flurry of sensations, and pleasure, and... Rhys.

"And now I remember why I married you after one date," she announced, and he gave her a sardonic look.

Viola snorted and wiggled her toes.

"We should move to bed," he said. "Or shower. Do you want to take a shower?"

She did. She felt rather... sticky.

"Yes, please," she said and stretched, enjoying the echo of pleasure bouncing in her body.

He rose, pushing off the bedside table with his hand, and just before he straightened up she caught a glimpse of his face. He looked... preoccupied.

"Rhys?" she asked, and his shoulders rose a tad.

When he turned to her, his face was calm again, and he gave her a warm smile.

"You can even take a bath. I mean, if you still enjoy them," he added.

"I do. And you're more than welcome to join me," she said.

She didn't miss the surprised expression that flashed in his eyes.

"Alright," he said.

He stretched his hand to her, she pulled herself up, holding on to it, and then pressed into him.

"Why don't you just ask, love?" she said, wrapping her arms around his middle. "I can see something is bothering you."

"It's nothing," he said.

"It clearly isn't," Viola said softly. "Have I been too 'bossy' in bed again?" she joked.

"Of course not," he said, his lips twitching in a suppressed smile.

He cupped her face with both his hands, and Viola squinted in pleasure. There was just something so indulgent in being touched by Rhys: he was always warm, large, enveloping her, making her feel soft and lush and safe.

"I just didn't expect we'd–" he murmured and kissed her tenderly.

"I hadn't expected that either," she said when his lips slid onto her jaw. She was getting turned on again, from his slow kisses trailing on her skin, and his calloused palms stroking her sides. "I just–"

He hummed into her shoulder, bent down, and scooped her up. Her legs went around his waist, and she met his eyes.

"I just fancy you. A lot," she said, and saw his lashes flutter, his face emotional and vulnerable.

And then he turned around sharply and started walking, with quite a different expression on his face. What a beast! Viola realised their bath had been postponed - and she had no objections to it whatsoever.

***

"Let's have a lie-in today," he said.

"Why?" Viola said with a giggle. "Surely, you aren't planning to have another go. You're breaking all your personal records already, and that's considering you're competing with your twenty-something year old self."

He grinned. She picked up a curl that had fallen on his forehead. She pulled at the strand and let go to see it bob merrily. He lay on top of her, supporting himself on his elbows, her middle locked between his forearms. Her shoulder blades rested on his left palm, while he was tracing some shapes on the skin on her sternum with the tips of his right fingers. It was a new position, it was exquisitely pleasurable: he'd never been that cuddlesome after sex, so focused on her, so willing to prolong the intimacy.

"Let me have coffee and some nosh, and I'll see about that," he said.

Viola dramatically threw her arm across her eyes.

"You'll have to 'see about it' on your own, love," she whinged in a ridiculous breathy voice. "I'm sticky, tired, and I have beard burns where no one should have beard burns."

"You just need coffee too," he said and kissed her stomach under her navel. The beard felt ticklish against her skin, and Viola snorted. "C'mon, love, let's have a bath, and some food," he murmured, placing little kisses on her side now, sliding lower. "If you want of course," he added, and she smiled without opening her eyes, appreciating his consideration. "And then we'll watch more of your loopy cartoons, and then eat steak in bed, and then maybe some pudding."

She felt his whiskers scrape at her hip bone. She truly didn't want to - but perhaps, it was the moment to be somewhat reasonable.

"Rhys, even if I decide to–"

"Throw a sickie?" he offered her an option.

"Yes, throw a sickie," she repeated, "there's still the fact that you'll get restless and bored in less than an hour of lounging in bed."

"I won't be bored," he said confidently. "I'll be watching cartoons and feeding you yogurt parfaits. Or licking them off you, if you don't want any." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"You've never been good at being idle," Viola pointed out softly.

"And you've never been good at being spontaneous," he said. "And look at you now." This time his smile was tender. "Remember, love. Old assumptions, new people."

Viola gave it a thought, remembered she had no appointments that day, and stretched her hand to her mobile on his bedside table.