[ In his closeness, with her eyes closed, Alexandrie finds herself surprised by the sea-smell of Loki's hair, the salt-roughness of his shirt against her skin. How long has it been, since she'd awakened to his return? A few hours? No. Hours are something for others, not them. They have a small infinity, something that feels as if it has no beginning or end, and all it takes is a single moment of shared attention— of her looking, of him looking back— and they can step into the slipstream of whatever in the cosmos paves their way. It's simple, right, and his love reaching to meet hers feels like a keystone settling into place between two stacks of stones that would have fallen on their own. That now will be a door long after all the walls are gone.
She kisses the words from his lips so she can keep them with the kind of care that means she thinks them precious; means she thinks he is. Wants to speak, wants to say her own for him, but cannot pull herself away for even the moment it would take to murmur. For now he will have to feel it in the way she leans farther into him, the turn of her body to better seam itself to his, the small and quiet sound that leaves her nose. ]
no subject
She kisses the words from his lips so she can keep them with the kind of care that means she thinks them precious; means she thinks he is. Wants to speak, wants to say her own for him, but cannot pull herself away for even the moment it would take to murmur. For now he will have to feel it in the way she leans farther into him, the turn of her body to better seam itself to his, the small and quiet sound that leaves her nose. ]