"Oi. Getcher hand off my arse, Guthrie."

"Sorry," Sam murmured, snaking his arm 'round to Lila's front and softly cupping her breast. "This better?" She could feel his lazy grin as he sleepily nuzzled her neck.

"Much better. I love waking up to you pawing at me." She rolled over, peered at her lover through a fringe of hair. "You cheeky pervert."

"Me? You're the one known for kidnappin' teenage farmboys, dressin' them up in leather, and having your wicked way with 'em."

"Farmboy. No plural. I did that once, and it was years ago!"

"Yeah, but the fact remains that ya did it. Pervert." He smirked at her.

"Oh? What's that make you, then, hmm?" she asked, gently pushing him onto his back and straddling his hips. "You loved it."

"Mmm. Sexual deviant, guilty as charged. Think I might still even have those pants somewhere..."

"Oooh..."