Ellie took a breath and did as asked, meeting David now with everything left to give, as if he were a mission, an objective to complete. There was a combination of little things -- years, drugs, unexpected goodness -- that made this too hard, had her falling undone too easily. And then there were all the other things, the ones that would be harder to comprehend logically later: David and the taste of his kiss, his skin. His warmth.
How he sounded in a whisper. You feel so good.
When Ellie came she came hard -- too hard for much sound but a gasp, enraptured and relieved, as everything lit up in stars and waves. Heat and light. Some called it the little death because that's what it was; you didn't return, couldn't turn the tide. Ellie leaned back to ride it out, clutching David's shirt in her fingers, until at last her eyes opened again, breath evening.
"David," she whispered, gaze finding his slowly; its greyness was serene, though the smile underneath took on a predatory tilt. "Your turn."