The next day, I woke up cradled next to the elf, one hand over his chest and a leg slung over his thigh. Apparently he had fetched a blanket to keep us warm some time during the night. His eyes were closed, but I doubted he was actually sleeping; after all, I had never once managed to sneak up on him during the state of cat-napping that elves seem to call sleep. It seemed that they used the word at all just for the sake of seeming culturally compatible to the rest of the world.

My hand wandered upon his delicious, white-golden hair, worn on a long braid to keep it out of the way. I rose to lean on my arm and started to gently pull the braid apart and see if he would stop pretending to be asleep.

I got almost up to the neck. When opening the remaining braid would have required moving his head, he opened his eyes to look directly into mine, wickedly entrapping me into their depths while all the while wearing a smug, knowing look. Oh yes, he had been simply waiting for the right moment to spring his trap and catch me off-guard. At this point, I was so distracted by the wondrous miracle that were his eyelashes that I missed his hands sneaking up on me until they reached the sensitive spots he was aiming for. In one smooth move, he switched our positions and pinned me under himself, never breaking eye contact.

The newly liberated mane of hair cascaded down his shoulders like a waterfall made of starlight. The sight made my throat constrict; it was simply not fair for a male of any species to look so accursedly beautiful. How was I supposed to even try to break free of his playful clutches when his very proximity completely overloaded my poor mortal mind?

He licked the tip of my nose mischievously to prove an unspoken point, then rolled down to lounge next to me, like a basking cat made lazy by the sun. I chuckled admiringly at the instant shifts between innocently harmless and lecherously seductive behaviour. But his smug attitude clearly called for a balancing jibe. I slid my hand over the sculpted muscles of his abdomen innocently, moved my lips right to his ear and quietly enquired in exaggerated mock worry, "Poor dear, are you still feeling too exhausted from last night to achieve anything but brief teasing?"

He let out an amused snort. "I was merely planning to give you a chance to save your strength until breakfast, as your responsible healer! But if it makes you feel better, I suspect I could use some more beauty sleep." When I rolled my eyes at the implication, he added, "After all, I believe you did not entirely forget to breathe just yet. I do try to uphold some basic standards for myself, you know."

The insolence bought him a poke in the ribs. Then I decided that a slight extension to the lazy morning snuggling would not be a bad idea after all, and settled comfortably in his arms.

I probably dozed off for a moment, but was roused by hunger. My stomach rumbled faintly, and I realized that there could theoretically be better ideas than sleeping on the floor when your muscles are a jumble to begin with. As I stirred, the elf took the opportunity to pry himself free, and declared he'd prepare some breakfast for us.

Now, were he a spectacular cook to boot, I think my mind would have simply crumbled at this point. Luckily, I knew him to be a skilled expert on perfectly simple fare. But although I could avoid swooning at the food being prepared, I did catch myself staring dreamily at the smooth movements and the free-flowing hair of the elf. The speed at which I was slipping from even minimal caution to being hopelessly smitten unnerved me somewhat; could it be that by next morning, I would already forget to breathe when he stared into my eyes? That would be indicative of other generally unbeneficial weaknesses that threatened to surface if this... development remained unchecked.

I preferred having somewhat more control over my life. Yet, when the charmingly smiling creature straight from the heavens descended upon me with breakfast, I suddenly could not worry about anything in the whole wide world any more. A wave of giddy euphoria swept me away when he crouched down to nibble my earlobe on his way to a sitting position. If there was some forward-oriented thought I could manage to focus on, it was whether the activities after breakfast should lean more towards wildly passionate or prolonged pleasures. I am not sure I could decide between the two, but we did end up finding some suitable balance between the two.