It's been a long, stressful day for both of us. Work for you's been just awful, work for me plain painful. With one hand wrapped in bandages again, and neither of us talking during dinner, I felt damn near like I was going to cry, or explode, or just do something to vent some feelings.

But you proved the cooler head. Not even having to get up from the table, you start casting something that always just screams chill out to both of us. Even if we might not like the music specifically, or even care that much, it sets a certain mood. Though I suppose I should describe our apartment a little better, just to get the idea across, of why this evening in particular confirmed that you were the one for me.

Our apartment is small. Not tiny, but small. Just perfectly on that border to be Cozy. It's right in the heart of Midtown, where the city lights still stream through our blinds overnight, but not so close as to get the noise. The Laundromat downstairs is a constant background, a pleasant murmur and rattle of old machines, of Duke and Robert playing checkers, or old Mrs Poliakoff clattering about with her cane.

I bought the Sofa, a huge, comfortable leather thing that I found on Craigslist, back when we didn't have any money. It's an old thing, but still as solid as a Pillbox, the leather soft and worn in places, so much so that patches look almost beige against the warm, chocolate brown. You provided the pillows, squashy things that are so perfect to rest your head in, and the throw blanket over the back, a warm, lush red of faux mink. The TV mounted to the wall sits above an old unit, solid wood made form recycled Wooden palettes. My PS4 sits on it, alongside the usual technological miscellany. Picture frames crowd the rest, ones from our first anniversary, where we went to Zion National Park. Some from when we went to Alaska for a weekend, or the month we spent in London visiting my parents. In each we're smiling. Not big, cheesy grins, but the subtle uptilt of lips that's genuine.

We lay down on the sofa, the huge, old thing big enough for me to nestle right into the back, you laid in front. My arms wrap around you protectively, holding you securely from falling forwards at all. I can smell your hair, the shampoo still clinging to it, and the subtle scent of your sweat. I'm sure I still smell worse, but you don't seem to care, your head on my bicep as I keep one arm languidly stretched over you, my hand on your stomach. I feel your arse nestled into my hips, the size difference between us even more plainly obvious than before.

And still, in the background, as I feel my eyelids droop in utter contentment, that Lo-Fi hiphop, drowning out the world around us.

Low-Effort, LoFi, Low Drama. Ain't no hurt here, unless it's consensual fun between two loving adults, and even then, this ain't a quick scene. If you want cuddlefucking and soft, tender bits, then jump aboard.

*Or if people just wanna chat, get the start-of-week or end of weekend stress out, then slam a comment below. Lets get some feels running today, huh?