Constant
No one can pull anyone back from anywhere. You save yourself or you remained unsaved. ~ Alice Sebold
“It will be light soon.” Deep asleep, her voice pulls him back to focus. “Too soon,” she murmurs. He groans, sprawled flat out on his front in bed, a tangle of blankets through his thighs baring his back to her fingernails scraping down his spine. He can feel his flesh twitch and retreat from the assault.
“It is a constant,” he mumbles into the crook of his arm.
“A constant reminder that it is time for me to go,” leaning over him she presses a kiss to the small of his back, he does not retreat from that touch.
“It will not be light for a little while,” he rolls onto his side, catching the length of her tangled hair in his hand. He tosses it lightly back over her shoulder, revealing the turn of her breast.
“You always know.” She scratches her touch down the length of chest. He smiles, as best he is able, which is all she knows of him so she accepts it as genuine. He’s spent enough days walking this land to know the subtle changes in light against the moon and the sun.
“Yes, I always know,” he agrees, his finger lazily trailing around the curve of her front near her navel.
“There might be a time when I need not go.” Her dark eyes glitter as she watches him touch her. The lower still he planned suddenly cruises to simply still. He needs for her to go, she needs to go, he has nothing else to give except for what passes between them in the darkness.
“It will be light soon,” his turn to say the words.
“It is a constant,” she whispers, slipping from the bed, stung by his retreat.
“It will be light soon.” Deep asleep, her voice pulls him back to focus. “Too soon,” she murmurs. He groans, sprawled flat out on his front in bed, a tangle of blankets through his thighs baring his back to her fingernails scraping down his spine. He can feel his flesh twitch and retreat from the assault.
“It is a constant,” he mumbles into the crook of his arm.
“A constant reminder that it is time for me to go,” leaning over him she presses a kiss to the small of his back, he does not retreat from that touch.
“It will not be light for a little while,” he rolls onto his side, catching the length of her tangled hair in his hand. He tosses it lightly back over her shoulder, revealing the turn of her breast.
“You always know.” She scratches her touch down the length of chest. He smiles, as best he is able, which is all she knows of him so she accepts it as genuine. He’s spent enough days walking this land to know the subtle changes in light against the moon and the sun.
“Yes, I always know,” he agrees, his finger lazily trailing around the curve of her front near her navel.
“There might be a time when I need not go.” Her dark eyes glitter as she watches him touch her. The lower still he planned suddenly cruises to simply still. He needs for her to go, she needs to go, he has nothing else to give except for what passes between them in the darkness.
“It will be light soon,” his turn to say the words.
“It is a constant,” she whispers, slipping from the bed, stung by his retreat.