"It's so cold, I wish the heater worked," Anastasia chittered, a slight sigh escaping her rosy lips. We'd been blanket-bound all afternoon by the cold of December; damn landlord still hadn't fixed the heat.

I nuzzled into her neckline, a playful act that reddened her pale cheeks more so than the cold. "I know, dear. Shall I, your valiant knight, brave the glacial bowels of kitchen and heat up some soup?" Our relationship was well balanced in humor and temperament, Anastasia the meeker.

"S-Stop, silly! We both know your cooking is...scary. Let me make it later; I'm just so cold right now." I could never get enough of Anastasia's bashful nature; her monocular eye a cool, cerulean pool that looked to me with some nervous anticipation. It was common for Anastasia to submit herself so willingly, a submission that I handled with responsibility and care. So I relented.

My playfulness, the closeness of our semi-naked forms slowly drawing closer within the nest of duvets; perhaps it was a little much. Anastasia's lithe form burned with embarrassment, possibly more.

"Well then, you leave me no other choice," I feigned dejection, "come here, let me warm you up, lovebug." The invitation yielded its desired effect as we cuddled under the covers. Anastasia giggled softly against my chest, small breaths tickling my skin. Her arms wrapped around my back, clutching tight to my body like an infant seeking comfort from their parent. A hint of her sweet perfume tickled my nostrils; it always did when she brushed past my nose.

"I love you," she whispered, the words barely audible over the distant buzz of the city; tiny fingers interlocked between my own. The cold of the outdoors, the bustle of the city. Anastasia's love had abated all distractions. She lay on top of me, her head resting atop mine, my chin resting upon her soft hair. The beat of her heart pounded against my breastbone, breasts flattened to the bedding beneath us. Our bodies were pressed together in a caress that preluded something intimate.