In The Middle Of The Night

Morning slips through the curtains. Nicole wakes first, Aften curved against her, bare skin warmed by the first light. The thin straps of Aften’s top have slipped, and the slope of her hip rises and falls with each slow breath. Nicole’s hand drifts down. She rubs slow circles over her clit, keeping the sheets still, hips barely moving. Her breath catches once, then twice. Aften stirs. Instead of speaking, she slides her own fingers between her thighs and matches Nicole’s rhythm, quiet and deliberate. The air thickens. They shift at the same moment, turning toward each other, mouths meeting. Tongues slide deep. Hands part slick folds. They tangle legs and press close, rocking together, every wet sound filling the quiet room.