“Are we dreaming?”
He moves like a power surge, slow then suddenly. Lips on my jaw, lips on my throat. The sheets are smooth beneath our feet.
Are we dreaming?

“Is this real?”
He moves like a question. Hands on my hips. Gentle, gentle. Don’t wake - Don’t wake us. I sigh against his lips.
Is this real?

“Relax.”
His fingers on my cheek, his nose against my own. His eyes are closed, his smile soft, soft, soft. I melt.
Relax.

“This is a dream.”
His voice is sure, his laugh sideways. He’s made himself his punchline. His arms orbit, his forehead warm on mine.
This is a dream.

“It’s okay.”
His whisper quakes. For me, for him. He is pinks and blues in rising light. His eyes on me the softest plea.
“It’s okay, we’re dreaming.”