no amount of guilt can change the past && no amount of anxiety can change the future
Amalia has never been a heavy sleeper, but she is a dreamer. The arrival of another in her bed is more than enough to pull her somewhere between awake and asleep, vivid images leaving her disoriented and dazed. She'd been somewhere else, with someone else, though who or why eludes her. A man wraps around her back, his hand on her hip (whose hand on her hip?), and she gets the impression of dark curled hair and stormy eyes and an urgency as the familiar-yet-not sensation of desire presses to her thighs---
She realizes what's happening almost in the same moment Remi does, whatever dreamy desire she might have been feeling abruptly and utterly falling away, replaced by flustered embarrassment. Pulling back from Remi as though his dick might catch her on fire, Amalia is swift to roll up into a sitting position, a blanket pulled protectively (and pointlessly - she's wearing pajamas) over her chest. "I- you- Vi's beard, Remi, you scared the lights out of me!" the Archangel sputters through her laughter, relaxing while simultaneously covering her hands with her face, both to protect his modesty and to cover her own bright red blush. "There's clothes on the chair next to the bed- tell me when you're decent."
She realizes what's happening almost in the same moment Remi does, whatever dreamy desire she might have been feeling abruptly and utterly falling away, replaced by flustered embarrassment. Pulling back from Remi as though his dick might catch her on fire, Amalia is swift to roll up into a sitting position, a blanket pulled protectively (and pointlessly - she's wearing pajamas) over her chest. "I- you- Vi's beard, Remi, you scared the lights out of me!" the Archangel sputters through her laughter, relaxing while simultaneously covering her hands with her face, both to protect his modesty and to cover her own bright red blush. "There's clothes on the chair next to the bed- tell me when you're decent."
Amalia
