Anne burrowed further under her fluffy duvet, into that inexplicably delicious warmth radiating from beside her. Comfortable beyond description - which, considering the loquaciousness of one Anne Shirley, was quite a feat - it took her a few seconds to realise that she was burrowing into a person.
Her eyes fluttered open at this revelation, and she found herself looking at the peaceful face of a sleeping Gilbert Blythe.
She recalled with a blush-inducing clarity, the events of the previous night that had led them to their present position - that is, legs entwined, her bare body firmly ensconced in his embrace.
This had happened only once before - the day after the college football team, captained by Gilbert, won the inter-schools cup. He had been euphoric with victory, and she had been hopelessly in love with him. The first time had been awkward and passionate and entirely imperfect in its newness - and yet Anne couldn't help but think that despite it all, that night had been the closest she had ever come to physically experiencing poetry.
And here she was again.
Gilbert had come over the previous night, to help her study. Which, to his credit, he did. But this was before she tied her hair up, and he suddenly became distracted by the delicate expanse of skin at her neck, and felt that it would be an unforgivable sort of sin not to press his lips to a gift so serendipitously offered.
Anne now lifted her hand gently to stroke his curls, and shivered gently with delight when his arms tightened unconsciously around her. She was about to close her eyes again to return to sleep until he awoke, when she caught sight of her clock on the wall. Groaning internally, she realised that if she didn't get up and leave within the next twenty minutes, she would be late for her English Honours class.
Hoping she wouldn't wake him up, she gently pushed Gilbert's oh-so-warm arm off of her and slowly climbed off the bed. She grabbed a shirt from the haphazard collection of clothes on the floor (grinning sheepishly to herself as she remembered how they got there) and put it on as she went to the bathroom she shared with her roommate. Thankfully, Diana had gone to stay at Fred's for the week, or last night would never have happened the way it had. Gilbert would have gone reluctantly back to his residence, and they would have spent a mutually frustrated night apart.
Ten minutes later, Gilbert (feeling anything but frustrated) sleepily blinked his eyes open. He rubbed at his eyes, not understanding why the situation felt a little off, until he saw that he wasn't in his own room, and that the owner of said room wasn't in his arms.
"Oh, darling, are you awake? I'm terribly sorry to leave you alone, but I have to go to class."
He turned his head to the sound of Anne's voice, and gazed at her in a drowsy mixture of adoration and desire. She was dressed in her underwear and searching hurriedly for something to wear; which meant Gilbert had the wonderful opportunity to appreciate the view of her derrière, until she found what looked to be a yellow dress and pulled it over her head.
"Mpf...Gil?" Anne muttered, still stuck halfway in the dress.
He started and realised he still hadn't said anything, having been distracted by the sight of his beloved dressed in only the bare necessities.
"G'morning, Anne-girl," he murmured, his voice still hoarse from sleep.
Anne thrilled to the sound of him calling her Anne-girl in that voice, with the obvious innuendo in its very timbre; and having put her dress right, turned to look at him. He had sat up, and was smiling sleepily at her - hair mussed, clutching her pillow under his chin. She felt a different kind of thrill go through her at the sight of him. She walked to the bed and sat down in front of him. She giggled as he immediately cast the pillow aside and gathered her to him tenderly.
"Mmm... don't go, Anne."
Her giggles increased as he nuzzled his face into her neck.
"Oh ... oh, Gil, I have to ... Professor Stacy said she'd only give us the scope for the exam if we came to every class this semester ..."
"Get a friend to get the scope for you. Stay with me."
As tempting as the offer - and her very handsome, very naked boyfriend - was, Anne knew she couldn't. She kissed him lingeringly, and pulled away when she noticed his hands had nimbly pulled the straps at her shoulders down.
"Gil, no. I'll be back in two hours, I promise."
His face fell as she stood up, and she stroked his cheek lovingly.
"Promise. There's lasagne in the fridge, if you get hungry."
"I'm not hungry for lasagne," he murmured, looking at her with a certain sort of look she had been receiving him for most of the time she had known him, but had still to get used to. She stared back at him longingly, until her phone buzzed and she came back to herself with a start. Anne looked at the message from Priscilla - "where r u, class in 5" - and shrieked, shocking Gilbert out of his lust-induced stupor.
"I'm late, I'll be late, Gilbert Blythe, this is all your fault!"
Gilbert Blythe chuckled as Anne rushed around her room, grabbing various pieces of stationery and books and stuffing them in her bag. The last he saw of her was her flowing red hair as she ran out the door with an, "I love you, I'll see you soon!"
Hearing the click of the lock, he allowed himself to fall back onto the bed. Gilbert closed his eyes, and brought to his mind the image of Anne in a pale yellow sundress, leaning over him with glazed eyes and shoulders made bare by his wandering hands; and he drifted, smiling, into the blissful sleep of one who loves, and is loved.
