Sensual
Golden sun spills in the window, slant of light tells the late hour of the afternoon.
Warm breeze through the open sash flutters the curtains, ushering in sounds of lazily droning cicadas and air heavy with honeysuckle.
Small hands that had gripped his shoulders tightly moments ago then rested weak against them now stir, strange arrhythmic tapping of each finger in turn.
"Yoshino? His voice is a pleasant rumble against her, his beard tickles her cheek with each word. "What are you doing?"
"Idiot", the breathy word is an endearment, "I'm trying to remember how to straighten out my fingers."
