He kissed her back eagerly this time. Ogma was a conscientious lover. He took his time, reacquainting himself with what it took to please a woman. His hands were always gentle, perhaps more so than necessary, almost out of fear of hurting her. He whispered to her snippets of poetry--Shakespeare, Lucretius, Song of Solomon--before starting to come up with his own odes to her beauty. All hinted at a streak of inventiveness, though he did keep things on the vanilla side for this first encounter with her.

After a while, his breath was hitching.
"I... I'm getting close..." he warned her.