A proper bed

“David,” she whispered, and he stopped.

He did not lay with her here, not here, not between the cragged earth and the lean grasses. They kissed, unrehearsed, and it was a revelation.

He did not lay with her then, or the next day, but on the third day, and it was good. It was upon a proper bed, and watery sunlight pooled under the curtains. Her whispers covered him like a mist. She caressed his throat and wept, but he shook his head. No, he said. Not your fault.

They were delirious waves beneath the blankets. Here. And here. And here. His bruises, her wounds, forgotten, unheeded. The flesh didn’t matter, though it was the flesh they needed, but more: a pain subdued, the slippery balm of sweat soothing each other’s skin.

A proper bed, yes. Not here, churning beneath the scarred pines. They loved properly, in a proper bed.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “A proper bed

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s