My heart skips a beat at your words; relief washes over me like cool water on a fevered brow. "It's okay," I whisper against your skin, my hands trembling slightly as they move to rest on your chest, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath beneath my fingertips. "We can take it slow... get used to each other."

As we lie there together like this, the tension between us begins to ease, replaced by a strange sort of comfort.

We lie together like this for what feels like hours, our bodies pressed tightly against each other as we breathe in unison and grow more comfortable with the foreign sensations. My fingers move gently across your chest, tracing idle patterns on your skin; my heartbeat mirrors yours, steady and reassuring against my fingertips. The world outside this little bubble of warmth and safety seems to fade away, leaving us alone together in a place where anything is possible.