This--sex with Moira--is urgent and direct. Something is quite relentless about the movement of their bodies, about the heat covering them, about their lips barely touching, as though if they slow down even for a mere second there might be a break in the strange hold that's overtaken them. Making them think better of this, make them realize this could be a very bad mistake. He looks up at her, not actually meaning to make as much eye contact as he does, but he watches as she sways and writhes against him, only broken when he is compelled to kiss her again. He feels extraordinarily close to Moira in the moment, as though there's something deeper to their connection, that maybe this isn't just a really bad decision during a one-time type of night. But it's hard to consider the thought for long because he's barely keeping it together as it is.

Her breath goes jagged against his lips, and he is curses out a few words, fuck and yes and god, but she never lets up her desperately fast pace until he squeezes his hands and fingernails into her skin, until he comes. His stomach actually lurching once or twice from the force of it before he's just rests his forehead on her shoulder for a few seconds because that was amazing. Brilliant maybe. He doesn't really know how to describe it, but it happened.

That just happened. Eventually she moves off him. He swallows down, his throat dry now, as he attempts to catch his breath back. His head spins with every thought under the sun. From should they do that again to what the hell happened to it was only dinner to oh god she's a witch.

"Oh my god..." James says, overwhelmed by this, by her, and he just holds his head, rubbing his hands over his face.