Brigit's Flame, December, week 1
Title: The Space Around Him
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: PG
Warnings: melodrama?
Word Count: 345
Prompt: “rocking”
A/N: Written for week #1 at Brigits_Flame.
She was always just out of reach, her laughter spilling behind to tag him. He couldn't ever remember being so happy; the lightness inside rose like bubbles as his steps fell into hers. The clover crushed underfoot as they raced through the meadow and into the cornfield. She insisted on the chase but gave up too soon and let herself be caught, her eagerness to be one as strong as his.
He lay her down amongst the stalks, the noonday sun a shining shroud. He was thirsty for the sight of her skin. Oh, how he longed to trace the pattern of cloudshadows as they moved across her throat, her breast, but the mewling sounds of her hunger urged him on. It was with an almost foreign ungentleness that he reached for her. It didn't matter how often he had her, he could never get enough. Need pulled him closer, closer … her hips a perfect cradle rocking. He wanted only to see her face and catch a glimpse of his own happiness mirrored there.
Her head was turned, her hair spilling in brightness to hide her. So close. He cocked his head to see, but she shifted, keeping out of sight.
Something was amiss. He couldn't rest until he saw that she was here with him, that everything would be all right this time, but those dark tendrils in his gut were unfurling. He knew this panic all too well. She was fading, and there was nothing he could do to keep her from leaving.
“Stay!” he cried, but the words, as always, made no sound, and she was gone before he could wrap his arms around her and hold her fast and safe. The field fell dark and he choked awake on the sound of the tears cried in his sleep. It was the same nightmare, every night since she'd been gone. He felt for her in the space around him, but he was alone in the night. He could do nothing except close his eyes and hope, this time, not to dream.
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: PG
Warnings: melodrama?
Word Count: 345
Prompt: “rocking”
A/N: Written for week #1 at Brigits_Flame.
She was always just out of reach, her laughter spilling behind to tag him. He couldn't ever remember being so happy; the lightness inside rose like bubbles as his steps fell into hers. The clover crushed underfoot as they raced through the meadow and into the cornfield. She insisted on the chase but gave up too soon and let herself be caught, her eagerness to be one as strong as his.
He lay her down amongst the stalks, the noonday sun a shining shroud. He was thirsty for the sight of her skin. Oh, how he longed to trace the pattern of cloudshadows as they moved across her throat, her breast, but the mewling sounds of her hunger urged him on. It was with an almost foreign ungentleness that he reached for her. It didn't matter how often he had her, he could never get enough. Need pulled him closer, closer … her hips a perfect cradle rocking. He wanted only to see her face and catch a glimpse of his own happiness mirrored there.
Her head was turned, her hair spilling in brightness to hide her. So close. He cocked his head to see, but she shifted, keeping out of sight.
Something was amiss. He couldn't rest until he saw that she was here with him, that everything would be all right this time, but those dark tendrils in his gut were unfurling. He knew this panic all too well. She was fading, and there was nothing he could do to keep her from leaving.
“Stay!” he cried, but the words, as always, made no sound, and she was gone before he could wrap his arms around her and hold her fast and safe. The field fell dark and he choked awake on the sound of the tears cried in his sleep. It was the same nightmare, every night since she'd been gone. He felt for her in the space around him, but he was alone in the night. He could do nothing except close his eyes and hope, this time, not to dream.