Kayne and Val (Day Dreaming)
His mind was with the clouds, eyes glazed, face soft around the edges. A single finger, as large as the base of a tree, gently traced down the length of one of Val’s legs, sending goosebumps across her entire body. He moved slowly, as if the weight of his own touch might shatter her if he wasn’t careful. Sometimes he paused, the pad of his finger resting on her thigh, still, suspended, before continuing that grazing path downward, down to her ankle, her foot, her impossibly tiny toes.
Then his finger would shift course, pressing gently into the soft of her stomach, the sheer size of it making her stomach dip and rise beneath the curve of his touch. She felt as if he could press the life out of her, any harder she would burst beneath his touch. It was overwhelming, she was utterly eclipsed by him. Completely overbearing. But sweet. Mindless. Gentle. Like he couldn’t bear the thought of existing without touching her in some small way.
She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She admired him quietly from where she lay sprawled across his lap, a doll in comparison, her limbs smaller than the width of his palm. Her head was tipped back, resting just at the gentle curve where his stomach met his thigh. It rose and fell behind her like the ocean tide, warm and steady. Above her, she could see the strong line of his throat, the shadowed dip of his jaw as it moved slowly with every breath, every swallow, a subtle, internal rhythm that sounded like a distant storm rumbling through his chest.
From her angle, she could even see the flecks of stubble peppering the underside of his chin. Light, soft bristles that he must’ve missed while shaving that morning. A ridge of skin where he’d nicked himself had darkened faintly, though it had already begun to heal.
Kayne was seated on the couch, leaned back into its cushions with his legs stretched out. One arm was draped over the armrest, the other curled protectively around Val, cradling her gently in his lap like she was the most precious thing in the world to hold.
His thumb brushed along the arch of her hip, idly. Thoughtlessly. He didn’t even seem aware of the motion. His gaze had wandered to the window, distant and unfocused, the way it did when his thoughts drifted somewhere deep and unreachable.
This was the Kayne she loved to see, not the stiff, awkward one who apologized when his voice got too loud or who turned beet-red when she caught him staring. Not the fretting, overly gentle version of himself who triple checked every step before approaching her. But this version. Quiet, unguarded. Dreaming with her in his lap. Trusting that she would stay.
She shifted slightly, crawling further into his open palm. She curled herself between the warm dip of his fingers, her body draped perfectly in the curve between thumb and index. She could feel the warmth of his skin through her clothes, and somewhere deeper, beneath the skin and bone, the thrum of his pulse. A deep, slow beat. Not quite a sound, more a sensation. A presence.
She stretched her legs out, yawning like a cat in the sun. His gaze flicked down at the movement, and for a moment their eyes met. His soft and unfocused, hers, twinkling with amusement.
“You’re daydreaming,” she teased softly, fingers grazing the skin on the back of his hand.
He blinked, and then that shy flush spread across his cheeks like a wave, blooming red up the sides of his neck.
“I wasn’t~” he muttered, looking quickly away.
She laughed, the sound light and airy, and shifted again out of his hand to rest her entire weight against the base of his stomach, hands curling into first at the bunching of his shirt . The warmth of him was all around her, his lap like a hammock, his fingers like a slow breeze tracing over her shoulders. The size of him wasn’t just a fact of biology, it was a part of everything. He was her world, surrounding her completely. Every breath he took made her sway gently. Every tiny twitch of his muscles shifted the landscape of her world.
But she never felt safer than when she was here, anchored by the weight of his attention, the hush of his presence.
She tucked herself tighter into him, her cheek pressed against the warmth of his belly, and closed her eyes. Above her, she felt his hand curl ever so slightly, fingers cradling her instinctively. She didn’t have to ask for it. He was already holding her like he couldn’t imagine letting go.
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