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hands clasped so tight

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They're curled up in Sasha's bed afterwards, sweat-damp and satisfied. It'd been a natural progression, really - Tim is cute and Sasha knows he thinks she's cute and there's only so much workplace flirtation you can take before things come to a head. Sasha's sprawled back against her pillows, still catching her breath and coming back to herself, and Tim is curled up on his side next to her, about a foot away.

Which is fine. Sasha's well aware that Tim isn't one to get attached, and she can live without cuddling. But his bare shoulders are broad and pretty to look at, so, absentmindedly, Sasha trails her fingertips over the slight scratches she's left down his back.

Tim shudders.

Well, okay. Sasha isn't about to ask for emotional intimacy from Tim Stoker, of all people. She draws her hand back. "Oh - sorry."

He goes a little stiff. But his voice is right, when he lifts his head and says "S'alright, Sash," and so is the gleam in his eye when he shifts over on top of her, and then there's big hands on Sasha's hips and warm lips and stubble against her neck. She's laughing even as she wraps her legs around his waist to draw him closer.

"Really, already?"

"You know me," Tim murmurs into her neck. There is something just a little bit off about that, but then he ducks down under her duvet and Sasha stops thinking about much of anything at all.

After that Sasha is really done, so when Tim starts nuzzling at her chest again in the middle of afterglow 2.0, she gently pushes his head away, a breathy laugh in her voice as she tells him, "Easy, tiger. I'm gonna need at least, like, twenty minutes."

She smooths her thumb down the side of his neck to soften the rejection, though. And when she does, Tim leans into the touch automatically, with an involuntary little whimper that's more desperate than any noise she heard from him in the heat of sex.

They both freeze.

Sasha, who is slightly more emotionally functional than certain coworkers of theirs she could mention, says, "Oh - is that alright?"

"Please," says Tim, raw and needy.

Sasha cups the back of his neck and pulls him down into a kiss. Gently, she turns them both so Tim's on his back under her, and she kisses lightly at the tip of his nose and his cheekbones and just once on each of his eyelids.

One of her hands finds its way to the hair at the nape of his neck, and Tim breathes out an ohhh. Sasha's mouth quirks up into a smile. Against his temple, she murmurs, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Tim sighs, content. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her down flush against him - not sexual, just holding her close and snug, her bare skin on his.

When she wakes up the next morning with him nuzzled into the side of her neck, an arm thrown over her waist, and his leg tangled with hers, Sasha begins to suspect that she may have miscalculated Tim Stoker's relationship with cuddling.