You're right, the afternoon isn't over yet. The sun is still low, pouring that liquid gold across the room, and the light highlights every drop of sweat and every expression of desire on our faces. No mushy romance under the covers—we still have energy to spare, and the day outside refuses to end until we've exhausted each other. You release yourself from his embrace with a fluid movement, sitting on the edge of the bed with your back to him, letting the afternoon light trace the outline of your silhouette. You turn your face just enough for him to see your sly smile. The Afternoon Heat Continues—"Domesticated" is an understatement—you say, your voice laden with delicious irony. —You talk a lot about rules and control, but so far I've only seen you follow my rhythm. I thought you'd be a little more... wild on the farm. Or is the country air too calm for you? You feel the creaking bed as he moves behind you. Before you can react, you feel his hands—large and warm—spread across your ribs, pulling you back with a force that makes you gasp in surprise. He turns you to face him, pinning your arms above your head against the mattress, his body pressing against yours, filtering the sunlight streaming through the window.