Butterfly's wings tickled Zinnia as he
fluttered above her.
He gently settled down, and the feel of him upon her petals titillated the delicate blossom.
She tittered again, quivering beneath his touch. And when he kissed away the morning dew from her leaves she never felt more alive.
He took his time, caressing and kissing her every petal, and, once he took all she had to give, he fluttered away until tomorrow, when he would return for more of her nectar, just as he had each morning since she first bloomed.
Zinnia turned her face to the morning sun. She didn't wish to see where Butterfly flit next. She needed him so deeply that without him she felt she had no purpose, and she preferred to pretend she was the only flower he desired.