Little baby bit of a quiet moment in bed as I try and get myself back into the writing groove.
you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars
She has a scar just under the curve of her breast – a half-moon shape that he likes to trace with his thumb when the covers are pulled down low around her hips and her chest is still flushed pink from his attentions, blonde hair knotted against the pillow and green eyes shining up at him. She is beautiful always, but especially like this – sated and half asleep, pressing into his touch.
“I know that look,” she mumbles, her fingers untangling from his hair to trace the curve of his jaw. He turns his face into her palm and presses a kiss, smiling into her skin when he bites at the heel of her hand and her legs shift beneath the blankets. “What are you thinking about?”