Doing his best to not collapse too heavily overtop her, Everett is also left in a panting, satisfied heap. Damn good, every moment of it, and her chanting of his name is the finest music. He catches his breath, pulling out of her as he shifts back to sit upon the bench. His arms stay around her, moving to carry her along with him, letting her against rest back against the single, tall side swoop of the bench. Iramaat's legs get pulled to lay over his lap, a comfortable and cozy position he hopes.

"A very good thing," he begins, reaching down some to pick back up what he had initially enticed her with, "a brought along wine, then!"