Rested... in placated slumbers
she clung to his arms that lay motionless upon her chest, rising and falling perfectly attuned to her movements. (It was as if those arms were extensions of her own lungs.)
The subtle pulse of his wrist beat against her rib, which encased both his and her hearts.
The beat provided a pattern for her breathing; slow and steady and perfectly mellow.
Her satiated breath was without conscience or concern, everything was slotted comfortably in its place.
In the dawn her breathing would change as they both arose in the smell of dew. This moment was her favourite of all. Pure and gentle, they savoured the welcoming embraces shared between them before daily corruptions.