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Rising early is a habit Leena still can’t shake, even when there’s nothing to be up for. Too many baby siblings and cousins for that—too many days spent running hither and yon across El Nido at dawn’s herald, an ocean so much bigger than she could possibly have imagined from its rolling shoreline.
But those days are past. There is nowhere she needs to be. Awareness blooms through the fog of sleep like the warm, flushed light of dawn filtering through the gauzy curtains. The bed beneath her is unfamiliarly soft. Not her bed, not her room. An arm thrown over her side, the soft press of skin at her spine, a warm breath against her shoulder, even and regular.
Parts of her still hurt a little. At some point she rolled over onto the bruise on her hip and it’s still stinging, in a dull, tolerable way, but she’d like to get off it. A lot of her wants to roll over and see Riddel. The incurable early bird in her wants to slip out of bed and hunt for her clothes, wherever they ended up.
She manages to sit upright without waking her companion, or so she thinks, but when she looks back at her after rubbing her eyes, one of Riddel’s is open, blinking tiredly. Cat-like. Her attention trails up Leena’s bare skin, her ribs and chest, until finally reaching her face.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” Leena yawns.
Riddel makes a low, soft sound, arm snaking out from under the covers to reach up and cup Leena’s cheek.
“What time is it,” she murmurs, quiet with sleep.
“Early.”
“Too early?”
Leena laughs, just an exhale. “Yeah, too early for you.”
Riddel’s hand slides from her cheek to the back of her neck, some alertness sharpening in her eyes, like the glint off a ruby’s facets. Leena is happy to be drawn down and oblige Riddel’s unspoken request; a chaste press of mouths at first, though soon Riddel’s fingers are winding through her hair, and Leena braces her elbow on the pillows to accommodate her, kissing with the passion of having nowhere to be.
“Do you need to depart soon?” Riddel asks, breaking apart to kiss at Leena’s jaw.
A high pitched noise escapes her in answer. Riddel is intent on giving her new bruises before she’s even lost last night’s.
“No, not really,” she says, swallowing. The mouth on her is hot, insistent, trailing down to her collarbone in spite of the awkward angle. “Just used to—I mean, I’m an early riser… hard to get back to sleep once I’m awake. And….”
She falters, struggling to find the words to articulate I’ve never stayed the night with someone before without sounding embarrassed and immature. Wasn’t she too old for getting flustered? Wasn’t she too old for wringing her hands in her skirt at the sight of a beautiful woman?
The lips on her skin pause then, and Riddel pulls away, back to where Leena can see her face. The creases at her eyes are of fond amusement, as if she had heard Leena’s unfinished sentence anyway.
“Stay a little longer, then. We’ve nothing but time.”
But Riddel was beyond just a beautiful woman, more than Leena could articulate, though she certainly was beautiful. Without makeup, her face was strangely intense, nothing to smooth her father’s austere severity from her features. Her hair, a curtain like spilled ink across the white pillows, mussed and tangled where Leena has been lying on top it.
Her eyes were dazzling during the day, red as pomegranate seeds, but here they look dark as wine. Too easy to lose one’s good sense in. Leena is struck by the sudden desire to kiss her again, as if they weren’t just doing so, as if last night was not enough to drink her fill of this woman. It’s too soon for I love you, but it’s all Leena can think at the sight of her.
Riddel pokes her cheek. “What are you thinking? You look like you have something to say.”
“Just that…” Drunk on affection, her tongue is loosened. At least a little. “I won’t be able to get back to sleep, but I don’t want to leave you, either.”
“Then don’t,” Riddel says, breaking into a proper smile. “Plenty of things to be done in bed besides sleeping, no?”
Leena laughs, flushing all the way down her neck. “Like what?” She asks, tilting her head. If she was going to blush like an ingénue, she might as well play the part.
Riddel’s eyes grow hooded, amused and indulgent. Reaching up, her hand on Leena’s shoulder is gentle but firm, guiding her down to lie on her back, and then she kicks one leg over hers, smoothly rolling over to straddle her.
“I can think of a few suggestions,” she says, looming over Leena like a snake about to strike. But Leena has already been bitten, her heartbeat thudding in her ears, just a little woozy with the lust thrumming in her veins. Riddel leans down to press her lips to the corner of Leena’s mouth. “Here’s the first one.”