No, and the foreplay surprises her, to be honest. She never has to ask for anything  —  he's quick to offer, and attentive enough to what she wants on his own. But she hasn't yet figured out what it means to be vocal in bed.

Her stomach jumps, and she's forced to swallow back laughter with every sweep of his hair in sensitive places. She's not wholly successful, grin plastered across her face, choked chuckles shaking her shoulders. She runs her hands through his hair, closing her eyes to the touch of his hand.

"Where y'goin', Fireman?"

It's whispered half tongue-in-cheek, a little playful, a little curious. She arches against him, head lolling to one side.