For just a moment it felt like too much being asked of him: to give an answer, to think and focus, to do more than simply giving himself up to her—but it was fleeting as her fingers found a home in his hair. Usually it had the power to steal his reason, but in the moment it was strangely grounding, a solid link between the perfect bliss of possession and his sense of self, of being the man who found beautiful and myriad complexity of feeling in the feel of Regina’s fingers curled into his hair.

“Good.” He replied on a sigh, face still tucked against her neck. That was a solid place to start...

“Stiff.” That came as his sense of reality sharpened a little more, along with a subtle roll of his shoulder to ease some of the tension built up there. That was probably good, too. There was more, though, an underlying, glorious stillness tangled up in the hard floor just starting to feel uncomfortable and the feel of Regina’s arms around him and every magnificent ache and pain promising him memories of this later...

Neil finally lifted his head, looking into her eyes with a smile.

“Right at home.” He concluded with a greater sense of slipping back into his own skin—enough to lean in and take a kiss for himself, slow and warm and filled with more silent gratitude for the perfect way he felt in the moment.