She doesn’t even get a chance to put Her handful of belongings down. He pins Her against the front door, puts the weight of His body on Her slight frame, clutches Her throat and kisses Her, hard, blissfully hard. He squeezes ever so slightly, feeling the vasodilation in Her jugular against His palm, ink stained callouses from hours spent sketching are rough against Her skin. She relents, opens Her mouth then slowly lets Her guard drop and then disappear as She unburdens Herself from any lingering doubts, letting them drain from Her body, downward through the tile floor below Her feet. He is going to experience Her fully, honestly, undiluted.
After a minute they break away to give them both a moment for their heads to catch up. Her head is swimming but She finds Her determination. She throws Her things on the table in the foyer. She pointedly directs him to put HIs fleece jacket on the dining room chair and follow Her.