Still

The swirlings of the toilet flush awakens him. Keeping his eyes closed, he listens to the rustlings of a pajama bottom pulled up, two hands carefully rinsed, a scratch on a body part he knows not where. Yellow floods his eyelids as the door opens, then darkness as she flips off the switch and finds her way back to bed.

The emptiness behind him is now filled with her body. He hears her deep breaths, her little grunts as she settles in. He lies still.

All of a sudden, she throws back the covers and turns to him, wrapping her arms around his prone body. She scoots even closer, bringing her chest in contact with his back, flinging a leg across his thighs. Her still damp hand rubs his chest, her face burrowing between his shoulder blades. There is a small kiss. She lies still. He makes no move.

A few minutes later, having had her fill, she pats his shoulder as if congratulating him on a job well done and turns back to her side of the bed. She pulls back the cover over herself, adjusts and finally settles. He listens to her slow breaths.

They lie still.