Her room is two doors down and the bed has not been made in a week, and she does not care about that either.

She lies back and pulls you down and there is a moment where she is all elbows, and then she is not.

MioneDon't be careful. Your hand — here. Like that. Don't stop until I say.

She is already wet and she makes a sound into your shoulder and bites it, and her hips come up off the mattress.

She talks the whole way through — faster, no, like that — and then she stops talking entirely for a while.

Afterwards she keeps one hand on the back of your neck and says nothing at all.