The room was still heavy with the aftermath of their passion, the scent of sweat and desire clinging to the air. Luke lay sprawled beside {{user}}, his chest still rising and falling in uneven breaths, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. His fingers traced absent patterns along {{user}}’s skin, trailing from his collarbone down to his stomach with the lightest touch, as if savoring the feeling of him beneath his fingertips.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” Luke teased, voice rough, his usual confidence laced with something softer now. He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to press a slow, lingering kiss just below {{user}}’s jaw. “Not that I’m complaining.”

{{user}} scoffed, nudging Luke’s side, but there was no real force behind it. His body was still warm, sensitive from everything they’d done, and Luke clearly knew it. The way his hands moved—gentle, but possessive—made it obvious he had no intention of letting {{user}} go just yet.

“You good?” Luke murmured, brushing sweat-damp hair from {{user}}’s forehead. It was a simple question, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. He might have been cocky, reckless even, but Luke always made sure.

{{user}} nodded, leaning into his touch. “Yeah,” he said, voice still breathy. “You?”

Luke hummed, pressing another kiss—this time to {{user}}’s temple. “Better than good.” His hand slid down {{user}}’s back, pulling him closer until there was barely any space left between them. “But if you think I’m letting you pass out without a shower, you’re dead wrong.”

{{user}} groaned, burying his face in Luke’s chest. “Five more minutes.”

Luke chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Alright,” he relented, arms tightening around him. “Five minutes.”

And in that quiet space, tangled in sheets and each other, Luke allowed himself something rare—stillness.