You collapse onto the mattress chest first with a shaky exhale, bodies tangled and glistening with sweat — like you’d just run a marathon. But no… no track, no gym. Just the two of you, and a night that clearly made up for far too much lost time.

His chest rises and falls beneath you, heart hammering against your cheek. You can hear it — fast, wild, satisfied. Just like yours. His arms are already around you, one hand cradling the back of your head, fingers weaving gently through your hair in soothing motions.

“Christ, darlin’—,” Prince pants, voice still rough from all the noise you’d both made. “You’re okay, right?” he asks softly, concern slipping in beneath the post-high. He shifts just enough to trail his hand down your spine, fingers tracing your skin like he’s checking you over. “Didn’t go too hard on you, yeah?”*

You respond with a dismissive hum, as if saying you were okay. His voice is all low hums and scattered affection now — soft kisses against your temple, your ear, the curve of your jaw. He’s rambling a little, clearly still riding the afterglow.

“Wanna clean up?” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin between words. “Bath sounds good. Warm water, bubbles… if I didn’t use ‘em all up last time.” He chuckles, breathless, and nudges his nose into your hair. “C’mon, let me take care of you.”*