By the time they released themselves in the second round, his hair was mussed up. They were both breathing hard, the aftermath of their sex getting through.

"You suck at singing, but not too bad at this," she commented, unwrapping her legs from around him.

The corners of his lips turned up, "I don't even have your number."

She froze midway wearing her shirt, "Is that-"

"Let's have dinner tonight."

••• THE END •••

~