it feels like floating and a bit like dying

Warm slime puddles thickly around your legs as you kneel before her, as her body emerges from all the tiny cracks in the walls where she’d hidden herself all, welling up from the gaps in the courtyard’s paving stones and the shadows beneath rocks.

A tiny piece of her even emerges from the tight tie holding your hair back, leaving a warm trail down the small of your back as it descends to return to its proper home.

Her body is always perfectly clean, translucent; moonlight scatters through her like a prism, sending rainbows dancing across the walls, across your skin. Even now, even puddled on the floor still pulling herself together, she’s so beautiful; like a lake of living diamond, like kaleidoscope water pooling impossibly upwards as she assumes her proper shape—

She reaches out to you with a hundred hands, flowing up from the ground along you and out from her form; her eyes come with them, pouring over you, finding all the ways you have changed since you last saw here and all the ways that you have stayed the same—your hair a bit longer than before, already starting to escape its tie beneath the attentions of her smaller hands; your breasts a bit larger, your hips more shapely, the beauty of your stomach’s curves—

She’s not content with merely looking, she never is; and as her body flows around you, as she lifts you up on a wave of soft squishy rainbows, you savor the moment of weightlessness, the reminder of how much More she is than you. Her probing hands pressing into you could break you in two, the threads of her being she wraps around you to hold you steady could rip you apart or crush you into nothing with but a thought; but she’s so gentle with you, she always is, never going beyond what you can take even as she presses that boundary further, as she forces you to stretch and contort and spread, to accommodate more of her and last longer for her—

Someday you know that she’ll take all of you into her, that she’ll melt you away and let your mind join the endless swarm of her prismatic being; but today she only takes your sensations, your pleasure. She takes and takes and takes until you have no more to give, and then she gently holds her within herself, drifting on a sea of warmth, hardly existing as anything beyond another surface for her rainbows to dance across.

It feels like coming home, just as it always does.