15. Love

I almost never go to sleep before him. It's not because I want to stay awake, nor is it because I can't sleep, I just take more time than him to really nod off.

So I lie there, our bodies touching almost everywhere, because he moulds his body around my figure until we're keeping each other warm, and our skin sticks together in every place it touches; my back and his chest, our thighs, my calves and his shins, our hands laced sweetly together and tucked into my chest, as close to my heart as I can manage them to become... Even his lips, soft and damp, sometimes, come to join whatever skin might be exposed on the back of my neck.

Until I feel my consciousness slip away, I listen to his steady breath, and feel the rise and fall of his body against mine. It helps most of the time; when I feel his slim body relax more and more and he's gripped by whatever dream takes hold in his mind. When that doesn't assist, it's only because I want his hold around me tighter, to feel my body sliding ever so slightly further into him as his arms tighten around my form because he decides he wants or needs me closer.

I want this feeling to last forever. I need this.

What this is doesn't really have a word; it doesn't need one. It's far too perfect, too sweet and innocent for one word, and ten thousand couldn't do it justice, let alone these few.