The Morning After

She felt warm sunlight on her face and she stirred. She turned over and felt a hand next to her; she gave a low moan and wiggled over till she could place her head on the crook of the shoulder. She cuddled up to the body, warm and comforting, and she rubbed her cheek on the skin, feeling safe. And fingers began to stroke her hair, and she began to feel the stirring again inside her. As the fingers played with her hair and stroked the back of her neck, she began to yearn for more and the fingers moved slowly but surely down the neck along her spine. She arched her back and pressed herself against the skin as a burning built up inside her. Her eyes still shut, she began to realize that this was not something she was used to, and the skin smelt strangely familiar and yet at the same time, not.
She opened her eyes, and gasped in surprise. Instinctively, she pulled the covers over her and sat up. She relaxed when events of the last night rushed into her stream of consciousness. She realized she was fully clothed, and she began to carefully string her thoughts together.
She remembered the party, and the fight, and her boyfriend had stormed off and left her. She remembered the anger, the throwing herself into the party and letting every bit of the anger go. There were loud music, flashing lights, the exhaustion, and.. the face..
"You were there, weren't you?" she asked.
He had sat up on the corner of the bed. He nodded. He had seen her almost making a fool of herself in the middle of the dance floor and had caught her as she lost her balance. She had been really upset and had broken down into a bundle of shuddering, sobbing nerves in his arms. Not having a place to go, he had taken her to his home, into his bed.
He'd gotten up in the early hours to hear her crying in her sleep, and gotten into bed with her and cradled her till she calmed down. And with her in his arms and soundly asleep, he, too began to roll off into slumber..