Over the years, he's thought about this. Probably more than he should have, honestly, since they were always friends first, but he'd thought about it anyway. A part of his heart has always belonged to Joyce and he's never been able to entirely stop thinking about her.

It's better than he imagined. He can feel the way Joyce's body tightens around his fingers, her thighs flexing, and the sound she makes, his name, that's almost enough to make him come right there against the sheets. Instead, he focuses on her, on making this last, making it good, dragging her through her orgasm and maybe toward another, if he can manage it.