Comfort and Softness

 The afternoon sun streamed through the living room window, casting a warm glow over the soft blue carpet. Robert lay on his back, one arm resting behind his head, the other draped across his stomach. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the occasional creak of the building settling.

Rachel, her long, brunette hair cascading over her shoulders, slowly crawled toward him, her movements unhurried, deliberate. Her soft sweater brushed against the carpet as she inched closer, her deep brown eyes locked onto his. She had always found comfort in his presence, in the steady rise and fall of his chest, in the way his fingers absentmindedly traced soothing patterns against her skin.

She reached him, her slender frame settling atop his, her cheek pressing gently against his chest. With a contented sigh, she closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his body and the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat lull her into a peaceful haze.

Robert smiled, his free hand lifting to weave through her long, silky hair. He let his fingers glide through the soft waves, enjoying the sensation as they slipped between his fingertips. He gently combed through it, savoring its smoothness, the way it pooled against his chest like dark silk.

“You always do this,” he murmured, a faint chuckle in his voice.

Rachel hummed softly, tilting her head slightly to allow his fingers better access. “Because I know you love it,” she whispered, her lips curving into a small smile.

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “Yeah, I do.”

They stayed like that for a long time—her lying against him, his fingers moving rhythmically through her hair, the blue carpet beneath them a soft cushion against the world outside.

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