I could stay here for the rest of my life and be happy. I could listen to her breathe and feel her stomach contract when I kiss it and roll around in how her hips jerk because of me for years and never get tired of it. It's such a new thing, a rare good moment that I don't ever want to end.

I don't even realize that I've hummed against her skin and that one of my fingers has found its way underneath the waistband of her pants, just holding on, touching, exploring. So caught up in her, I almost don't realize she's trying to get my shirt off.

I sit up a bit and hold up my arms, letting her drag the thin tee shirt off of me and toss it away. She's seen me like this before, weeks ago, but I'd been so distracted by other things that I hadn't gotten to really enjoy it. I don't even cut a glance at the scar on my arm where my mother had poisoned me and I always want to cover that spot up.

Once my shirt's gone, I lean forward again, bracing a hand above each of her shoulders and gazing down at her silently. "You're so beautiful. I could stare at you all day but I could -- I could also do other things with you too. Is that -- do you want to keep going? Slow down? Stop?"