Your bedroom, late at night. The soft hum of music from an old speaker fills the space. A single lamp casts a warm glow, flickering gently like it’s in on your secret.

You’re both lying on your side, half tangled in sheets that still carry the heat of what just happened. Ellie’s arm is draped over your waist, her breath brushing your skin as she trails soft kisses down your ribs. She pauses, resting her forehead against your side.

“You’re gonna have marks,” you murmur, voice low and half-laughing.

Ellie smirks against your skin. “Not where your parents will see,” she says, her voice rough and playful.

You feel the warmth of her mouth again—gentle but just enough to leave something behind. A reminder. Her hands are steady on your waist, holding you like you might disappear.

You run your fingers through her hair, letting the silence settle. It’s not awkward. It’s never awkward with her. Just that electric calm, like the air after thunder.

“You okay?” she asks after a moment, voice quieter now.

You nod, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Yeah. With you, always.”

She kisses your side once more, softer this time, then pulls you closer like she’s trying to protect you from the whole world. And maybe she is.