“Yes," she said, finally shifting, turning to face him. He slid one arm around their waist and pulled them together, looking at her warmly, lovingly. It made her feel beautiful as he cupped her jaw gently, and when she closed her eyes she could forget that he did not know, because she was sure that he could come to love her in time. No matter what she looked like. "I'm just... tired."
She wanted to crawl beneath the covers and hope that tomorrow she would wake up and feel more at ease with this new body. Perhaps one day she could tell him, when there had been enough time that he knew that he loved her.
His fingers brushed across her cheek; it made her feel all a-flutter. Anastasia shuffled backwards out of his reach, up to the head of the bed. The Prince looked at her in faint concern as she smiled at him desperately, going to hitch her knees up to her chest, then kneeling instead and pushing down her nightgown so that it covered her legs.
"Perhaps we should get to sleep."
The suggestion tumbled almost desperately from her lips. She found herself frozen in place as he crawled up the bed towards her, not threatening but leaving her feeling trapped all the same, until he sat before he. He leant on the bed between them, leant forward; their noses brushed against each other, and then he kissed her on the lips, just sweetly, the way that she had imagined her Prince would.
Her Prince...
Slowly his kisses deepened, drawing her into him, tongue brushing over hers. Despite herself, she relaxed into his hold, putting one hand against his shoulder. His hand slipped around her waist, and so lost was she in the kiss that she did not realise at first the unfamiliar shape of her body as full breasts pressed to his firm chest, as delicate fingers ran over his shoulder. She could pretend that it was her throat that he kissed, that it was her body from which he drew, slowly and reverently, her nightgown. She could pretend that it was her breast that he cupped in his hand to caress with his lips and tongue, that it was her hands that strayed down his body, pushed up his nightshirt and let it drop to the floor.
She could pretend that it was her body to which he made love. Which he cherished, and desired, and lavished love upon.
Perhaps one day she would be able to tell him. Perhaps one day.
She wanted to crawl beneath the covers and hope that tomorrow she would wake up and feel more at ease with this new body. Perhaps one day she could tell him, when there had been enough time that he knew that he loved her.
His fingers brushed across her cheek; it made her feel all a-flutter. Anastasia shuffled backwards out of his reach, up to the head of the bed. The Prince looked at her in faint concern as she smiled at him desperately, going to hitch her knees up to her chest, then kneeling instead and pushing down her nightgown so that it covered her legs.
"Perhaps we should get to sleep."
The suggestion tumbled almost desperately from her lips. She found herself frozen in place as he crawled up the bed towards her, not threatening but leaving her feeling trapped all the same, until he sat before he. He leant on the bed between them, leant forward; their noses brushed against each other, and then he kissed her on the lips, just sweetly, the way that she had imagined her Prince would.
Her Prince...
Slowly his kisses deepened, drawing her into him, tongue brushing over hers. Despite herself, she relaxed into his hold, putting one hand against his shoulder. His hand slipped around her waist, and so lost was she in the kiss that she did not realise at first the unfamiliar shape of her body as full breasts pressed to his firm chest, as delicate fingers ran over his shoulder. She could pretend that it was her throat that he kissed, that it was her body from which he drew, slowly and reverently, her nightgown. She could pretend that it was her breast that he cupped in his hand to caress with his lips and tongue, that it was her hands that strayed down his body, pushed up his nightshirt and let it drop to the floor.
She could pretend that it was her body to which he made love. Which he cherished, and desired, and lavished love upon.
Perhaps one day she would be able to tell him. Perhaps one day.
When they grew to love... properly.
Perhaps...
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