Summer closed her eyes for a moment, almost purring. She loved people playing with her hair. “I did, and you have said no,” she said after a moment. “Now who should not apologise? Come.” She pulled at his shirt.
Mordred exhaled, walking closer to her as asked, stopping before her yet again but this time closer. “There is a need for apology?” He questions, tilting his head slightly, “although I believe it is I that should apologize.”
She giggled. “No, no, you’ve got it backward. Do /not/ apologise.” Giving up on coaxing him down to the blankets, she stood up, hair spilling down to her knees, and pulled his head down to kiss him.