Sunday, 21 December 2014

My sea of dreams.

This world has turned to dust
All we've got left is love
Might as well start with us
Singing a new song
Something to build on
He brought me back down slowly, carefully, shaking ever so slightly, his hands wrapped around my upper arms. I am bathed in sweat and firelight and he smiles. I can see the fire reflected in his brown eyes. He drops his arms to my waist and pulls me in close. He lets out a long breath and leans his head back against the headboard, closing his eyes.

I love my goodnight kisses. They always start as a kiss and end as a personal hazmat situation. I was explored over every inch, inside and out. Ben is easy to rile up and tough to calm back down. Sleep? What's that? Except that he was tired and when he fell asleep finally it was flat on his back, hands on his chest and I was relegated to sleeping in the fire.

I don't mind, though the fire made a little disgruntle or two about sleeping dirty, as he calls it. I didn't care, I couldn't keep my eyes open either. It was two in the morning. Lochlan wrapped his hands around my back and fell asleep on his side, his mouth against my forehead, nose in my hair, arms locked tight against my shoulderblades. He will sleep until five and then wake up as he always has in a long-developed habit to start work before the gates open, except that there are no gates and he doesn't have to leave and so he will crawl onto me and my breath will evaporate with the darkness, his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me up against him, whispering things in other languages, cutting into my eyes with his curls and my skin with his nails until he drops back beside me and falls asleep again until a more reasonable hour, never once letting me get more than an inch away from him.

Ben's hand reaches out to hold mine as I drift off again, my arm flung out behind me to bring him along.

The fire dies down as the sun came up but we don't notice. We don't care.