(no subject)
Layla awoke to the curious sensation of knowing it was Christmas Morning, and not being consumed with a hollow, distant loathing. As it happened, she felt well rested and sort of happy. She was no stranger to feeling pleased, or smug, or even satisfied with events played appropriately out, particularly when she was the cause. A feeling of general well being, though, was alien. She turned her head to look at Jamie, who was on his side behind her. Typically inclined to seeking out her own space in sleep, even when she was in his bed, apparently they'd spent the night quite close together. She felt warm.
She twisted her body carefully, and just enough that she could reach back to sift her fingertips through his hair and down to the nape of his neck. She didn't say anything or stir too much past the initial movement, content, for the moment, to watch him.
He stopped us from taking that ever so daunting step last night. Partly out of a sense of decency, I'm sure, because as accepting as he is of his multiplicity he'd still rather be a good person than not, but also out of concern for me. While that could have been... pretty patronizing, it wasn't. Because it was genuine. He saw me clearly enough, knew me- knows me- well enough to see what I was doing, and he didn't let me. I'm glad he didn't. It would have been a blind gesture, just reaching out, and I don't do that. That's not me. I'm more deliberate than that.
With small, controlled twists of her hips against the mattress, she edged back until his chest was against her shoulder blades, and she settled against him, taking care so the lines of their bodies from torso to toes were touching.
She twisted her body carefully, and just enough that she could reach back to sift her fingertips through his hair and down to the nape of his neck. She didn't say anything or stir too much past the initial movement, content, for the moment, to watch him.
He stopped us from taking that ever so daunting step last night. Partly out of a sense of decency, I'm sure, because as accepting as he is of his multiplicity he'd still rather be a good person than not, but also out of concern for me. While that could have been... pretty patronizing, it wasn't. Because it was genuine. He saw me clearly enough, knew me- knows me- well enough to see what I was doing, and he didn't let me. I'm glad he didn't. It would have been a blind gesture, just reaching out, and I don't do that. That's not me. I'm more deliberate than that.
With small, controlled twists of her hips against the mattress, she edged back until his chest was against her shoulder blades, and she settled against him, taking care so the lines of their bodies from torso to toes were touching.