nickmiller:

She pulled me toward her and then she lay down on the couch, making enough room for me to fit snugly behind her; I positioned my body like an outer shell to hers.

She guided my arm around her body and held my hand tightly at the center of her chest. I lay there next to her, trying not to breathe too loudly, and felt her warmth on my hand and my chest and the fronts of my thighs.

My chin rested on the top of her head, and the bottoms of her bare feet rested on the tops of my bare feet, and everything was warm from the top to the bottom.

It wasn’t just a warmth; it was a weighted warmth. I thought about the difference. Every night when I tried to fall asleep, I could bring myself more warmth by adding a blanket or turning on a heater, but a weighted warmth could never be attained without the warmth and weight of another living being. It would be impossible to simulate.

She lay next to me, almost in me like books in a shelf, and I felt her warmth but I also felt the light pressure of her weight, and it was so goddamn addicting. The addition of something, some weight beside my own, made me feel relevant, like I was contributing to the world by carrying something beautiful through it.

Then I realized again that human beings exist with, among many others, one incredibly powerful weakness: the need to be touched by other human beings. 

She and I, listening to each other breathe and enjoying each other’s weighted warmth, drifted to sleep.

I think I’ve reblogged this before, but anyways… here it is again :3