She was hesitant to answer him, it seemed, which made him the same way. Her tearing eyes proved it, she wasn't ready for this and he had made a huge mistake. Boomer could only hope she didn't hate him, but that didn't seem too likely, since she was scratching his back. It didn't hurt really, but his lack of sexual experience didn't tell him that it wasn't self-defense or anger that made her do that. He was starting to pull out when she told him in a voice that put her tear into the correct context that they were now one.<br/><br/>Then he understood. It was rumored that people, women mostly, could cry out of joy. Being who he was and given who he knew, he'd never really given the idea much credit, but now he knew it was possible. Not only was she not mad at him she was quite possibly the exact opposite of it. Pride welled within him. As good as it had felt at the time to have gotten the better of her in combat, the malicious feeling was dwarfed by this new feeling. The music insisted "love is here and love will last". He hoped so. No target of theft was as desired, as needed, as Bubbles' sweet love.<br/><br/>As her arms encircled him, so too did his arms burrow into a gap they created between her back and mattress until the embrace was mutual. Boomer enjoyed the feel of her warm skin as he kissed her, sending a small puff of air into it as her hips started rocking just slightly. "let me," he whispered. Slowly, he pulled his hips back, enduring the seemingly frigid air assault his wet cock. It felt like coming in from a boiling summer day and standing on front of an open freezer, only completely unpleasant. Still, the length of him that was still inside carried messages of absolute pleasure to his brain as well as advice to go back into the warmth as soon as it could manage. That turned out to be after all but two inches of his cock had slipped out into the freezing night air that had been trapped when she closed the window. Once back inside her completely, he held it there for a full three seconds before beginning a rhythm.<br/><br/>His thrusts were short, gentle and loving. Her body welcomed his, as though he were being beckoned in with alternating euphoria at accepting the call and sweet sorrow with anticipation at pulling away.