Porrim arches into him, pressing her hips forward to meet the surging of his own, letting her spine stretch out--tensing and relaxing as the last ripples of her own pleasure fade and are replaced with faint, sleepy contentment. She watches with hooded eyes as Nick finishes, a faint smirk playing around her lips when he finally moves to pull out, using his hands as support until she's got her feet planted firmly once more, albeit on wobbly knees.

She can't help a good-natured eye roll. "I'd have hoped so," she replies, even if that makes her sound cocky. She has a good reason to be cocky, and she knows it. "You doing alright, old man?"