I stared at the ceiling, one arm tucked behind my head, the other curled around Cheon's sleeping form. Her breathing had settled into that deep rhythm that comes after multiple orgasms and emotional exhaustion. Hell of a combination.
She nestled against my side, one leg thrown over mine, her face pressed into my chest. Her light blue hair spilled across my skin, softer than it had any right to be. My hand absentmindedly traced circles on her breast, enjoying the weight and warmth of it. Something about the perfect roundness just felt right in my palm. Not too big, not too small. The class representative came with surprisingly perfect tits.
Cheon mumbled something in her sleep and shifted closer.
I kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of my shampoo in her hair. There was something weirdly satisfying about that—knowing she smelled like me now.
"Rome," she murmured, half-conscious at best.
"Yeah?"
"Time is it?"
"Around three."
