After months, years, of putting this off as impossible, surely an impossible moment is the right time to stop pretending she doesn't want it. If she let tonight pass-- her future isn't impossible, maybe, but it's not guaranteed. They have this.

She gasps at the feeling of him pressed against her, bucking her hips in search of a little friction, sliding easily against him in her borrowed satin pyjamas, groping blindly to try and get a hand up under his shirt.