Foreplay

She kicked out from beneath as he struck, her smaller frame finally serving her needs, and he crashed to the ground as she rolled on top of him, bending as she went.

Ice locked him spread-eagled to the frozen grass, and she leaned down to breathe a cool gust onto his face.

On his chest she sat, thighs hugging his ribs and one arm on either side of his head. He could count the strands falling from her braid, and the number of breaths she took that he shared.

“Your hands have melted free,” she noted.

“Probably,” he replied, not breaking their little staring contest.

“You aren’t moving,” she added.

“But I’m still winning,” he said.