There's some added intimacy to him cradling her head, for reasons entirely her own. She wouldn't trust most people to touch her face the way she let him. The head is something meant to be protected in battle, and she'd grown up constantly on the edge of battle. Giving him so much control over her body, willingly, it's a large act of trust for her.

But it's trust he's earned. She stares up at him, her lips parted as she exhales in short breathy huffs, pupils blown wide in arousal. She can feel the precipice, so close that impatience to get off makes her squeeze her legs a little tighter around him, as if she could some how push him deeper than he already was.

"Ben," she moans his name, almost pleading.