Derya collapsed on top of him, smirking to herself as she looked down into his sated, sleepy gaze. He may be no werewolf, but he wasn't a man that seemed to back down before a challenge. Their lips touched, and this time passion didn't enter their interaction; it was a simple, mutual thank you.
Almost too spent to move, she wanted to shift her weight off him, but his arms tightened around her, holding her in place.
And she just remained on top of him even when his arms fell away, as she took a moment to rest and recover herself, even though they were sweaty and she didn't have the strength to push the covers away.
"Andor, you can't be comfortable," she said, out of breath.
Not being entirely wolf gave her limitations she never had before, but at least it made her more like him.
He shifted just enough, so she slid off him and ended up beside him, and the motion made the covers slip off the bed, letting the chill morning air cool down their overheated bodies.