Angelike was listening to the voice.
In the past, she might have been listening to Words. Her-from-the-past would hang breathlessly on each syllable, eagerly awaiting those most enjoyable Words like "strip" or "kneel" or "beg" so that she could give perfect attention to the execution of each.
Now, though, Angelike only listened to the voice's sound. It's soft and lilting melody babbled happily along in her head, and she let herself get lost in it. Sometimes, there was a tell-tale sing-song, the melody the voice made when she was a good girl, but if there were Words in the voice - even commands - she didn't let them distract her. Words were for people with all their thoughts and worries. All Angelike wanted was to listen to the voice.
But then, she heard a Word.
So she stopped.
"Take a breath-" Angelike breathed "- And come back. Nice and slow."
Angelike's first realisation was that she existed, that her body existed, and it was sat upright in a bed that had been thoroughly unmade by the version of her that had been in it before. That version of her had writhed and moaned and enjoyed itself thoroughly, leaving a very happy her floating giddily in the feeling of it, and now she was blinking her eyes open, streching like she'd just been roused from a nap, and coming back to find herself sat before the voice that her-from-the-past had been listening to so carefully. The voice was quiet now, respectfully so, its owner carefully watching from beneath furrowed eyebrows.
His eyes smiled, he really was easy to read, and sweet.
"All back now?"
She noticed she was smiling, too. And remembering.
"That was really fun. Why'd we stop?"
The eyebrows furled again.
"Well, there was a moment there: you were whimpering a bit and- I just wanted to make sure everthing was OK. That you think it's OK. Checking-in, is all."
So Angelike remembered. She remembered playing and planning and talking and how he took his time in making sure that she'd be comfortable with him here... then here... then- Right. Focus. This was important.
She remembered talking about worries and how to address them. How she got self-conscious and he got anxious. That they'd both needed to know if they were both OK.
Then she remembered winding up in her bed, tangled in sheets and swimming in arousal. She'd loved it. Wanted every second of it. That was important, too.
Still did, even, and here she was: naked as Eve and a word away from having him with her.
And him sat there, watching and waiting and maybe even anxious.
She kissed him, stroked his hair.
He smiled again. He understood.
"Alright, then," a deep breath, "close your eyes, Angel."
Angelike began to listen to the voice.