Tickling!

He rolled over as if in getaway and I lunged after him, pinning his leg with the weight of my thigh. My body tingling with the afterglow of his teasing hands, I tickled him in triumph&in speed. The fast arches of my fingers pressed their tips flat into his skin til they clashed with his ribs,
with both flailing elbows.
His gritted, gasping teeth: “Get.....off....of me!”
He moaned, his mouth wide, thrashing his head from side to side. He kicked at me, his hips rising helplessly like the sea as he fought for balance.
A gasp as if in pleasure. I threw words into the space. “Oh....yeah?” I too was breathless. Light, teasing, focused, it almost hurt.
I shifted my weight down on his torso, seized his wrist and felt him respond by clasping mine.
He was trying to pull me down. The dead weight of my pulse sped thick and foggy to his grip.
...These upper hands, they were struggling. I withdrew them, a stubborn and sudden backing off. I stumbled slightly as I crawled off his body to sit at a safe distance.
“Fine, fine,” I murmured. As if I had stopped in victory; that this was me relenting.
I smiled to myself, smiled at him. Sweet, teasing,
but exhausted. My eyes felt like pinpricks.
Still on my knees, I turned to face him, tucking my ankles under me and letting my hands fall to my lap.
He closed his eyes. Where he had sat up, he lay back down. His breathing slowed, he lay flat and still.
I took my eyes off his face and looked at my hands. I held one before the light. Its colour, the pinkish shade of dawn, was fading back to white.
I glanced at Aaron. Still he had his eyes shut.
On the sleeve of my jumper was a loose thread. I brought it to my mouth and pressed it to a tooth, pulling it free.