She can't help but smile back at him; a little dazed, the kind of smile too dopey for anyone but him to see. It's different, when they're both bathed in the afterglow, when he's still in her, looking at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

(And she's too pleased to think of it now, but eventually the question will rise like bile: how could she leave this behind? What could possibly have changed? And, unfairly-- what the fuck is wrong with her elder self?)

She sinks back against his shoulder with a little sigh, impossibly relaxed, tracing his collarbone with her thumb. They could both use this-- a little real rest, some pleasure in amongst all the tension and confusion. He needed this, she thinks. Not the sex, she thinks-- not to get off-- but to put all that longing somewhere concrete.

But she's not ready to solve the mystery of her future, not yet.

"That was perfect," she murmurs. It's funny, but somehow she's missed him-- even though he's been right here, even though she's never been with him like this before. The distance between them feels lessened.

"Let's just. Take today like this." Together, with nowhere to go and no agenda, nothing between them.