6, yes I know I'm terrible >:
[she smells like home, soft jasmine and softer ginseng. with his nose in her hair he's brimming with it, enough to drown out the harsh paper-and-wood of his cold office, even the strong coffee she'd brought him that waits cooling in its cup. he doesn't think about the cool rings on her ankles; just the warmth of her thighs around him, the strength in her back as he cradles her close, gently balancing her on the (cleared now, only for her) edge of his desk. a quiet plea against her hair accompanies a smooth push forward and there is nothing he wants for in all the world.]