“Oh baby,” she whispered.
He opened his eyes slowly, lazy eyelashes fluttering as if they were weighted, as if it took all of his strength to manoeuvre them open. He managed a moment’s connection, catching her gaze briefly before they closed again.
“Hmmm?” It wasn’t a question, not really.
“Oh… baby,” she whispered again, her breath hot against his ear, all the desperate need for him floating in the air, all the things she never said, all the sweetness, the adoration, the love.
“Baby…” he whispered back, acknowledgement, confirmation.
She half smiled, no energy left to expend on moving those muscles, she inched even closer to him even though all of their flesh was already conjoined with sweat and exhaustion and there was nowhere to go. He shifted closer also, symbolic symbiosis that she felt at her core.
Her mouth against him, she said it again, drawing out each syllable in slow motion, almost a sigh.
She thought she might cry, all her emotions thrumming a cell’s breath away from the surface of her skin.
He made a sound, a close-mouthed whimper, and she knew he heard her in exactly the way she needed to be heard.
She wanted to kiss him, but even as she thought about the mechanics of reaching for him, she felt herself drift off to sleep, her fingers twitching against his flesh.