Freya always enjoyed it when Pen straddled her lap, with the added benefit that it eased the strain on her neck. The taller woman hums a contented sound in the back of throat, content to let her partner overwhelm her and push her back against the chair.

The hand on Pen's back slides up to cup the back of her neck, fingers tangling in golden hair as Freya nips ever-so-gently at her partner's tongue in invitation and tilt's her head. Drowning in her girlfriend's ardor sounded wonderful; Freya could be content to sit here and kiss her all night, though she doubted that would be the case.