Iramaat feels languid; lazy. Sated. There's the hum of pleasure in her veins and the sense of feeling like all is right in the world, at least for the moment. She rolls to meet him, easing on to her back and filtering her fingers through his hair and down his chest in slow easy little strokes. Her eyes are lidded, her expression satisfied. Every part of her screams contentment.

"Mmm, yes. Is that important?"

She's teasing a little.