With another wordless  Evanesco, he cleans his release from her skin, taking no chances. Tucking himself back into his pants, he tosses a lazy  Lumos  toward the ceiling, smirking at the thoroughly disheveled witch. Completely naked, hair a sweaty mess half plastered to her body, the other spiraled up in a mass of corkscrew curls, she turns her head toward him, and they make heady eye contact.