Your rosebud mouth pulses. Tongue peeks out, small body tenses. Suddenly your sweet face grimaces with wanting. You whimper.
We are good at this now, you and I. Ten seconds max, faster than you can start crying, we are settled together, snuggled close, your mouth latched to my breast and both arms wrapped around it, like it's your life raft in this vast new sea.
I stroke your blonde fuzz, your porcelain ear, your delicate horns. You pause, breathing. Your fists slowly open.
We are suspended in time, in milk, in warmth. The thorns of my fear retract, for now.