He was tired. He was drained. It’d been a day.
She saw it in his eyes. She held her book, but it was him she read, the way they always seemed to do.
“I’m tired,” he spoke. “I’m peopled out; not from everyone—not you—but there’s no one else I want to see.”
She listened, empathetic and with compassion.
“I’m low on energy. I’ve given most of it away today, and what’s left, I want to give it into you…”
She felt the low heart-stir, heat of her body onto open skin as she rested, pillow raised, over white of bed down-cover.
Room was still. His speech was slow, deliberate in way of a monotonous tired, but she knew that he saved more, always and only for her.
He gazed on her open body, musings of her listening face. Low flutter started in his stomach that hollowed in stir and growing of a longing.
His stomach tensed, flutter grew into emptied and aching pang.
Resting, reading, hollow and ache from reading’s match beginning within her.
She felt the flutter, the hollow and follow-tensing; signs of her in expressing rise as her breathing focused into deliberate of slow.
Reading his signs, knowing her own: resonance of hollow ache of an empty; each other’s cure and soothe.
“But you still have energy…” she asked, shifting in her rest; breathing slow and deliberate, full in her deep of draw and expand of swell-expressions she knew he noticed; notice displayed in return of raised response.
“I do…” he answered low, breathing deepening as hers as she drew to the front of his bottoms, showing in free as she.
“And you want to share it…” still slow in breath, expanding and emptying, empty increasing hollow’s pang.
“I do…”
She knew. She always knew. The energy was always there, a something always saved, ready in want for her.
She smiled, helping him to open; baring of body, baring of soul, same in her openness to him.
“Then give me what you wish to share, and if you find that you have more to give; I am wanting for that too.
My nerves are hollow. I ache of an empty…Fill me until you have nothing more to give…”
She meant it. He knew.
He gave. He shared. I found that he had more.
There was always more. He was never empty, never completely. For her, always, there was more.