The sheets feels soft against Élise's skin as she stretches out on the bed like a lazy cat. She runs her fingers over the fabric, a deep red cotton that hugs her body as she roll froms her belly onto her back. Her girlfriend's side still carries her smell and the sigh that leaves Élise at this discovery is filled with a longing that has the sound vibrating in her throat.
Mia pays her no mind.
For an hour now she's been sitting comfortably in an armchair, book in her lap and reading glasses perched on her nose. She is lost in the story, her eyes moving along the lines rapidly and with visible interest. The ashtray practically full of cigarette butts sits abandoned on a table by the side and the vinyl record hasn't been flipped in quite some time; only the static noise of the record player fills the room.
Élise rises from the sheets and walk over to the music station on naked feet, slipping the record back into its sleeve to pick another. Mia has a vast collection and Élise takes her time, glancing at her from the corner of her eye in hopes that her half-naked body, clad in just one of her band shirt, will catch Mia's attention. However, even as she place the needle on the record and a Gun's n Roses song fill the room, her eyes stay on the pages of the book.
Mia looks beautiful. The glasses almost slip from her nose with how low she wears them. Her hair is a bit messier now at the end of the day. A loose strand has fallen over her forehead and tickles her brow, the curve casting a small shadow on her skin under the light of her reading lamp. Élise fights the urge to brush it back and kiss the spot, lingering by the shelf to assess whether she can finally justify disturbing Mia or not.
Mia turns the page. Élise tiptoes over, hip pushing against the armrest by her side. She must notice her but she gives no indication of it as Élise trails her fingers over her shoulder, then down her arm. Mia's black shirt stands open at the collar and she get a glimpse of her cleavage. She want to kiss her there, too.
"Mia," she tries.
"Hm?"
Mia does not look up, even though the use of her name is enough information as to her intent. With her heart hammering Élise sinks down and kneel beside her, resting her head on Mia's thigh. The fabric of her pants feels rough against Élise's soft cheek. Even so Mia continues to read, her eyes never straying from the page, ignoring the puppy-eyed face right next to the book. Élise can't help but pout. Impatient fingers run down her calf, then up to her knee on the other side but her touch lures no reaction from the older woman either.
She moves to stand, let her fingers run down her forearm and grasp Mia's wrist, lifting it out of the way so she can place herself on her lap, once more the image of a needy cat vying for attention. Mia hardly reacts, only lifts the book out of the way while still fixated on the page. Élise shifts until she's sitting more comfortably, feeling her thighs flex underneath her weight until they press firmly against her ass.
"What are you reading?" Élise asks this time, nestling against her. Her head rests on her shoulder as she tries to get a glimpse of the book.
"It is a book on the Mithraic Mysteries," Mia explains, her voice steady and calm. "A very fascinating read. Not much of the Cult of Mithra survived, no written texts anyway."
"Who is Mithra?" Élise inquires, only half-focussing on her words now that she finally feels Mia against her.
"An old Indo-European deity, worshipped by Roman soldiers. Some surviving depictions show him killing a bull, sacrificing the blood and seed to replenish the world and life itself." Mia's free hand moves to rest on her thigh, her cold hand soft on her bare skin. "However, the cultists were persecuted by Christians and ultimately eliminated. Their places of worship, the mithraea, were destroyed."
