[She feels like she can't swallow, skin still clammy from waking up in a sweat. She should not have done this, gone to him in his bed. It's a line being crossed, but she doesn't care. Not now. Her heart is finally starting to slow. He has a calming presence, his mannerisms, his speech, even in his accent.
His touch is even stiller. He never seems to shy away from touch, not in a negative way, but boundaries are slowly melting away, and she can't help the exhale when he kisses her forehead. She's pressed close to him, close enough to feel the silk pajamas against the upper part of her chest. Can he feel her heart?]
Most people don't have blood on their hands. [Her voice is calmer than she is. Finally her hand moves to his side. She's comfortable at least. That's what he gives her.]
no subject
His touch is even stiller. He never seems to shy away from touch, not in a negative way, but boundaries are slowly melting away, and she can't help the exhale when he kisses her forehead. She's pressed close to him, close enough to feel the silk pajamas against the upper part of her chest. Can he feel her heart?]
Most people don't have blood on their hands. [Her voice is calmer than she is. Finally her hand moves to his side. She's comfortable at least. That's what he gives her.]