[ there's a relief in the way natasha easily folds into what andy's after, but it doesn't come without mild curiosity - it's too easy for the other woman for it to be anything but born of her own experience with that desire to escape something. it works, regardless, and it lets andy focus on the simple act of making her (and natasha's) body feel good. ]
[ when all is said and done, the pair of them spent and satisfied (of that andy has no doubts, maybe it's some kind of inherent smugness), andy simply lays there with that hazy feeling. her limbs are tired in a pleasant way, her brain sufficiently muted. she's flopped rather unceremoniously on the bed but comfortable, a leg lazily sprawled over natasha's with her arm tucked over the other woman's waist, as she lays on her side. her eyes are closed, but she isn't sleeping, though she hopes she'll pass out deeply enough at some point. ]
[ given her terrible sense of time, andy's not really sure how long they lay there in a welcome quiet before natasha shifts, just enough to get more comfortable, but it pulls andy's eyes open again. she should really roll away, fall asleep, let natasha sneak out like she presumes is her plan again, but instead she catches a glimpse of a scar and feels just a tiny bit heavy again. ]
[ it's not running away like she wants, but the question slips out anyway, perhaps intended to be a commiseration more than anything else. that's what she'll tell herself at least. she'll blame the fatigue. ]
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[ when all is said and done, the pair of them spent and satisfied (of that andy has no doubts, maybe it's some kind of inherent smugness), andy simply lays there with that hazy feeling. her limbs are tired in a pleasant way, her brain sufficiently muted. she's flopped rather unceremoniously on the bed but comfortable, a leg lazily sprawled over natasha's with her arm tucked over the other woman's waist, as she lays on her side. her eyes are closed, but she isn't sleeping, though she hopes she'll pass out deeply enough at some point. ]
[ given her terrible sense of time, andy's not really sure how long they lay there in a welcome quiet before natasha shifts, just enough to get more comfortable, but it pulls andy's eyes open again. she should really roll away, fall asleep, let natasha sneak out like she presumes is her plan again, but instead she catches a glimpse of a scar and feels just a tiny bit heavy again. ]
[ it's not running away like she wants, but the question slips out anyway, perhaps intended to be a commiseration more than anything else. that's what she'll tell herself at least. she'll blame the fatigue. ]
Do you ever just feel... too fucking tired?