Jamison loves the way she smells.

Curled up amongst the mussed covers, Satya lies nestled against his chest, her ample backside flush with his groin. Waterfalls of her hair curve among the pillow beneath his metal arm, and he takes the opportunity to bury against her in the aching afterglow and breathe. He doesn't know what it is about her that smells so bloody good; she uses scented soaps and shampoos and lotions, but none of them seem to quite mirror the aroma that permeates her clothes and the places she sleeps and the currents of air that pass her by. While he prefers the acrid smells of his work and the earthen scents of the outdoors, he must admit that hers is something that keeps him more than occupied.

Satya nudges one of her legs under his, her foot hooked around the back of his calf. Her body heat is warm, close, intoxicating, and he swears if he weren't so exhausted from the past few hours, he would scoop her up and revel in her again. Instead, he chooses to drop three kisses down the column of her neck before gliding his hand along her breasts and belly to tease right between her legs. She's still wet, he finds, and he's sure traces of him still linger despite her diligent cleanup. The thought makes him sink his teeth upon her shoulder and smile into her skin.

"Already?" Her voice is amused, half muffled into the plush of her pillow. "It hasn't even been ten minutes. I assumed you would need more time."

"Bit longer," he says, and circles his index finger over her clit before dipping further in. Her muscles clench in a soft, sweet hold, and despite the fatigue weighing through his limbs, a spark stirs down in his lower belly. "Not a miracle worker or anything like that. Just like how you feel is all. S'nice. Real nice."

Satya replies with a low hum. Her back arcs against him and her prosthetic hand rises up behind her to touch at his face. The warmth of the white metal by his jaw is different than supple skin, but no less pleasurable. The tips of her fingers sketch at his neckline and outline the shell of his ear before sifting through his hair. A tremble climbs through her as he indulges her with a generous thrust, followed shortly by an inhale sucked between her teeth that sounds an awful lot like pain.

He instantly stills his movements. "Oi, you all right?"

"It isn't any fault of yours," she says, repositioning her hip. "Well, no. Perhaps it is."

"What? What'd I do?"

"I believe you know the answer to that already." She gives his cheek a loving tap, the crystal of her palm by his chin.

"Wait. Hang on." He withdraws his hand in puzzlement and leans from the pillow to peer down at her nuzzled among the sheets. "I do?"

Satya turns to smirk up at him, the fiery gold of her eyes sharing in silent mirth. "Are you not sore?"

"Oh." Jamison would laugh, but she tugs him down for a kiss instead.

He can never get over how incredible she feels. Overcome with the heat of her body and the soft fullness of her breasts and how her teeth drag at the edge of his bottom lip and the way she nudges her thigh in between his legs to coax his cock into hardness, he sighs against her and drinks her in with ferocity. With the musky scent of her coating his fingers, he grips at her shoulder and grinds his aching hips and clenches his metal hand into the sheets and wishes his body were more willing than this because it feels like molten fire crawls through his veins every time she touches him.

Exhales shuddering from his lungs, he feels her warmth draw away and plant a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose. Jamison opens his eyes, bleary and breathless in the aftermath, and it occurs to him that he has no idea when he'd closed them. In hopes of masking his surprise, he kisses the side of her mouth, her cheek, and then the birthmark just by her lips. The playful sound of her laugh chimes in his ears like the tolling bells after the perfect set of charges, and it hurts far worse because he is so fond of the slopes of her high cheekbones and the shape of her nose and her smile (god, her smile) is more addicting than watching his custom shells combust into bursts of smoke and color.

With care and purpose, he brings a finger to his mouth and sucks it clean. Her smell is divine, her taste somewhere far beyond, and he lingers at the final knuckle to ensure he gets all he can. The increasing pressure of her thigh against his growing erection suggests she enjoys his enthusiasm, and he grins at her with a final lick.

"Dunno what it is about you," he says, and he curls his arm around her to trace his good fingers down the dip of her backbone. "Can't get enough."

"I could say the very same of you." Satya frames his face with her metal hand, her other scratching gentle patterns against his collarbone, and she kisses his chin with a slow gentleness that makes prickles weave down his body.

Jamison breathes deeply, soaking in all that he can. He still doesn't understand why her entire being smells so fantastic. Isn't quite floral and it isn't quite fruitlike; it's sweet, somehow spiced at the edges, and with a savory undertone that sends his heart afire. The remnants that slick his fingers are different, of course, but he will further indulge when she isn't so sore and when he doesn't feel so spongy.

He will admit that his nose is not the sharpest of his senses. Regardless, he relies on it a great deal when mixing compounds. Years of experience has taught him the importance of smells, and Jamison Fawkes knows a good one when he comes across it.

And as far as he's concerned, Satya is the very best there is.