She also knew that knowing it was not stopping it.
Her hands moved to the pine-needle-covered stone.
She did not look at him as she shifted forward, coming off her seated position, her palms finding the ground. Her thick thighs pulled under her as she arranged herself on all fours, the movement sending the loose weight of her breasts swinging inside the damaged 'dudou', the heavy mounds straining against the remaining ties.
She crawled.
Each movement forward was a decision made in the specific, compromised logic of a body that had been through too much in too short a time and was being offered something it could not rationally argue against. The firelight moved over the sway of her generous hips with each step forward, the curve of her bottom rising and falling, the full undersides of her breasts visible past the swinging front of the 'dudou'.
She arrived at his legs.
Her hand stretched forward, fingers reaching toward the heavy, warm weight of him.
His hand closed over hers.
