Writer, Poet, Antagonist

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They lay in the afterglow, the afternoon light came cool and bright through slits in closed blinds. Over the soft curves of her hips, bars of brilliance making her thighs shine golden.

Joy, silence, heartbeats.

“love you Pup,” she spoke as softness, grace and favour incarnate. He folded at the sound of her voice in the silence.

“Are you real?”

She shifted slightly to meet his gaze, the bars of light striping a mask, and smiled. “Odd question pup? Do I not feel real?”

Reaching for his hand she used his fingers to trace the line under her breast allowing him to feel the radiant heat of her. and he folded that caress into an embrace that allowed the beating of her heart to resonate through his chest. Dulling the ache of exertion and familiar smouldering in his bones.

“You’re Perfect, you’re so perfect,” If there were other words he could not find them.

“I’m just me pup, but I’m glad you think so.”

“I want to be here with you forever, I want the world to stop so I can be here with you” closing his eyes he swam in her, tried to breathe her in.

“I want to be with you too”

“I want nothing but you,”

“And this bed,” eyes open now he paused, the thread of his thought snagged for a moment.

“It’s a good bed, we couldn’t have had so much fun without the bed,” she was smiling at him now, from across the cordillera of rumpled sheets, Lean arms still held the heat and scent of her.

 Yet, the same shards of light that had made her thighs glow had moved to scatter across her face.  Shifting to amber, casting their brightness into the hazel of her eyes and sending impossible strikes of crimson into her white oak blonde curls. She was smiling, the sight of which created a swell in a heart he thought could contain no more. The pressure hurt, threatening rupture.

He hadn’t even realised he was returning the smile until he came to speak and found lips glued to teeth, mouth curiously dry.

“It’s a brilliant bed, I just want you and the bed”

“And some breakfast?” Yes. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was. They had shared a wonderful dinner the night before, she had cooked something spiced and succulent. Exactly what he couldn’t recall.  Right now her perfect breathing body was too much of a distraction to conjure anything except her minute details and his hunger for the experience of them.

“I don’t need to eat; I just need you”

“Well I need to eat,”

“What time is it?”

“Later than it was last time you asked,” she liked to play with him, with her words, her hands. He found himself awake once again at the thought of her hands.

“Late enough for breakfast to be Lunch”

“Yes, lunch”

“I should dose; it should be near enough the time”

“Lunch with champagne?” He shifted his weight, propping himself up on an elbow to look at her more closely, unsure, discomforted a little.

“No… Darling, no drink, I can’t, you know”

“I know pup, I’m Sorry it slipped my mind,” her apology was softness, closeness. The warmth of a gentle kiss and the pressure of her nipple and the soft down of her sex pressing against him, as his discomfort dissipated in favour of greater hunger.

“It’s ok, I forget too sometimes,” A little lie, he never forgot, the pain and sickness of forgetting wasn’t worth it, a sip would dull the medicine to insignificance and he needed his medicine.

He should take his dose.

“I love you pup,” A second affirmation, he found himself wondering why there were so few words for love, for the desire of another person. He found his question dancing in the deep brown green…. Blue green of her eyes.

“I love you, I love you too”, she had turned away from him now. The movement, imperceptible. He found himself admiring the dark undulating wave of her hair over her shoulders, the smooth line of her spine leading to the twin dimples that crowned the most perfect buttocks he had ever had the pleasure of tasting.

The fading light now striated the far wall, but her skin in such bare resplendence still seemed to glow ethereal, flawless. Even in the absence of it he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“maybe one more time before we…”

“That’s an odd question pup?” he hadn’t asked a question.

“I said, I said I love you too. Could we not just…”

“do I not feel real?”

 She had shifted to the edge of the bed, sat with her legs over the edge, sat up somehow with the same imperceptible shift of being with which she had turned away from him.  Now she was turned side on, the curve of her breast peeked from underneath a long arm that presented a triangular portal through which he could adore the soft roll of her stomach,

“I love your muffin tops, I want to, just… I could just. “

He chuckled, too self-conscious to finish such a giddy thought out loud. His head reeled a little, It was too hot. Reaching out to touch her again he was finding she was just out of reach. He was finding he was tired, still worn out from the efforts of ecstasy.

“For breakfast? … that would be lovely”, that smile again, those deep blue eyes, she would drive him mad, she would smile that smile she would show him her perfect nakedness and he would lose himself to desire, and they would come together again and again until they dissipated into heat and light. But he was hungry, not just for her right now, but for something to sustain him. He had last eaten yesterday, though he could not remember what. And the light was fading.

The shadows wrapped her previous radiance, and as she rose to face him she was dark lustrous, a goddess wreathed in shadow. And he was hungry.

“Lunch, darling it should be lunch time by now, I should take my dose”

“We should have muffins for lunch, Raspberry and White chocolate”

“And coffee, I need caffeine”, he did his pricking head and sluggish heart proclaimed it. Unashamedly addicted to espresso. There were worse compulsions.

With what felt like a supreme effort he tore his gaze away, and switched on the flickering bedside light so he could see the box and blister packed a little more clearly in the growing gloom.

“Coffee would be nice; we could go out for coffee.  Maybe Strawberries and Champagne”, the packet was fiddly, his fingers were still a little numb so it was difficult to tell which of the plastic packets were empty.

“No champagne darling, remember,” she loved champagne, she used to put a half cut strawberry in the bottom of the glass, let the bubbles blush pink. He felt the tickling prickle of bubbles on the inside of his skull and reminded himself to never leave it so long between doses again.

“Are we going for lunch?” three of the four cards had turned out to be empty, he couldn’t remember the last time he had picked up a scrip. She sounded like she had wondered across the room, the wardrobe maybe.

“What would you like me to wear?”

“Hang on, the sky blue dress is nice, it is, it was warm out.” Frustration was harder to swallow now, Bourne skyward by rising panic. The fourth card was empty as well, “have you seen my meds darling?”

“The blue that matches my eyes pup?”

“What?”

“The blue that matches my eyes?” her eyes are brown, he told her so.

“Your eyes are brown”

“Were they?”

“Have you seen my meds?” he was still reaching awkwardly his body heavy in the dim lamplight, fingers numb and shaking scattered the detritus of the bedside table across the floor. He swore hoisting himself up to get a better purchase. He can’t be out, sure he was taking more than the usual for the pain but he had counted, days ago he had counted. And they had had dinner together.

Maybe in the pocket of his trousers, he kept some in his pocket with his lighter.

“My meds darling, could you give me a hand?” Silence.

Of course there was silence.

 

Adrian EarleComment