It doesn't take long at all before Grace finishes, biting her lip hard to keep from making too much noise for these thin apartment walls. (Even if it might already be too late for that.) She's only partly successful, letting out a strangled moan in spite of her efforts, back arching up off the bed. Why she came here or how they got to this point doesn't seem to matter when everything is lights and heat and him, her fingers holding tight to his shoulder. Sometimes it's like he has about as much control over her body as she does, sometimes even more. After all, he's got her shaking and panting, and she can't even get his name past her own lips.