postcard amelie 05
You stroke Amelie’s hair back from her pale face. Her eyes flicker open. When she first sees you she smiles.
The part of you that was tense relaxes. She doesn’t fear or hate you instinctively. Another part ravens. It would have been an excuse to gobble her up right now.
You watch doubt and fear and vulnerability chase one another across her sculpted features. She shivers, open as an injured child. “Cold.”
“Come here.”
Your luxurious, curvy body moulds to hers as you sprawl half across her. Your heat, partially hers stolen away, seeps into her bones. She smiles at you and submits to sleep so quickly it’s like she slipped under the waves.
You feel her chest expand and fall beneath the weight of your upper belly, still doughy and active with your breakfast, your blood feed. It’s novel to feel the motions of another so intimately on the outside of that cavern.
Sometime during the morning you switch onto your back. She barely stirs enough to take a proffered drink of water and settle back down, this time wholly laying on your body. You can relax that way, and your body is infinitely more suited to bearing the weight of another. Your mind roams and wanders, for a while untethered to the world.
Where does it go?