Silver cast upon the lawn, April morning frost of night and brevity-cold that would erase in rise and warmth of sun; but, in the moment, it was there.
She gazed upon it in the gloam of sky—reds, rose, and magenta hues glow-alchemized to gold—cool of the night sensed into room and touching through to lightly covered skin.
In stand and gaze, she felt him there, his hands to her front—high-abdomen and rise; cup and cradle of her breasts, cool-hardened nipples catching in fingered spread of is cradle-hold. Warm comfort in the cold, touchings of different sense, and she felt him low to covered place. He held her, her body drawn tight and close, and in keep of low and gentle pressure, he drew from her a warmth—touch-telling to his press. Hands’ fall and rise again to front, finger-tip sense to bare of skin beneath thin-cover shirt. One hand’s remain as second fell low, hooking beneath to front of thigh, lifting as she stood; balanced in his hold and arms to dresser-top beside; her feel of his pressure, her greater of warmth telling for his feel; low of her hand and draw to side; her hold and guide and love-smooth sink, guide-hand falling as he rose, and she sank, pressing guide of fingers down.
Strong wrap of his high, steady balance of low, as they set into love-affirmation in change of silver into gold; rising of the sun, greater brilliance of the sky—melt and dew, dawn near-arrived—as like bird, she cried—moved and touched—in wave and song of morning love.