Tristan was warm, and he was floating...no, not floating. But he was laying on something incredibly soft.
Beneath his head, the soft thing moved, and Tristan felt a flash of panic. But the softness did not go anywhere, it simply rose and fell. Deciding not to take any chances, he moved one resisting arm, and threw it over the warm soft thing, pulling it closer.
Something pulled at Tristan as he did that, and he found himself even closer to the addictive softness.
Good, he thought, and sleep pulled him back under, the few seconds of wakefulness instantly forgotten.
