(Jumping around a bit to the afternoon/evening of the day after the dinner. Consensual fluffy mild D/S)
When Kent gets back from the rink Andy’s sitting in the suite’s armchair, one foot negligently propped up on a bolster while she scrolls through her phone. He closes the door, crosses the room, and sinks to his knees at her feet, wrapping his arms around her waist and laying his head in her lap. She buries her free hand in his hair, using the other to flick her phone to mute.