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It’s moments like these where Robert remembers everything he’s ever known about himself. When hands reach and stretch skin, when lips touch all over and make noises unknown even to him. When the world turns to fuzz, the edges of bodies blur from one pair of eyes blinking up at him like grass fields and spotted puddles of mud and he is left breathless on sheets he won’t change for ages. It’s there where he feels his body in its entirety.
They’re wandering up to his chest now and lay looking up at him as he’s still catching his breath. He refuses to look down at them. His breath couldn’t handle the swirl of green grass and brown earth smeared in streaks like they were the simplest thing in the world. No, he has to exhale first.
“Robbie?” Angela’s looking up expectedly now, asking if she did a good job.
Robert betrays himself and looks down.
That swirl.
“Good,” he answers. Then she smiles, and his breath is back.
He reaches up and cups her face like he’s done a million times, then travels to her long black hair. Her hairline is damp with sweat; he assumes it was when he was pulling it just moments ago. He starts to scratch her scalp apologetically.
She chuckles, knowing what he’s doing: “Thank you.”
“Did I-”
“No, of course not.”
He hums, continuing the circular motions
They sit like that until her eventual restlessness kicks in; an inevitable surge of energy Robert has failed to name. When her mind gets too quick for her body and she needs to prove to someone, she’s alive. He sees it when she laughs in her sleep, at her own imagination. Or stomps her feet while cooking, asserting dominance on the vegetables; Angela loves to leave parts of herself everywhere she goes.
She grabs the hand he has on her head and brings it to her lips, whispering feather-light praises to his palm. The ghost of her breath is warm, she’s doing this to quiet his apology.
Robert is absolutely covered in this unnamed surge.
She puts his hand down and lifts herself up with him sandwiched between either arm, then leans down to kiss him.
It’s slow, they’re always slow after sex, they think it stops time. Robert melts and lets himself think it’s been hours before they finally separate.
When they do, Ange keeps her eyes closed and their foreheads touching. Her hair falls on her face, between them. He knows what she’s going to say.
“You probably ruined my hair.” And she knows his response.
“You’re beautiful.”
She kisses him again.