Not Yet Morning


Breathing in warm, dusty air, X wakes in darkness to find herself buried beneath a mixture of duvet and the limbs of her sleeping man. He’s got an arm wrapped around her waist as well as his left leg, while between her own she can feel a little of his seed trickle out before dripping down her thigh and finding its way onto the bedsheet. She’s as cosy as a cat, all snuggled up in dreams and love, and as his chest rises in time with hers, she links the fingers of her right hand with those of his left, and there she stays, smiling to herself while looking through the gap in the curtains out onto the world beyond. It’s dark out there, not yet morning, yet neither night. A time where fairies come out to play. That’s what her mother told her as a child. Eyeing the bare branches of a tree that appears to be reaching out for her, she sniffs his scent while enjoying the feel of his limp cock pressed against her lower back. They’d made love and tasted bliss, but it was only now she felt real intimacy. With his warm breath on the nape of her neck, she felt safe. Here, in this bed and in his arms, the world could only watch through the curtains as she evaded its perpetually cruel grasp. She had no desire to leave the bed. Not for the next couple of days, anyhow. They were still strangers, and yet there was a link between the two of them. She could feel it. It was like the piercing in her belly button or the one in her nose. She’d go days without thinking of those piercings, and yet in the back of her mind, she was always aware of them. Subconsciously. Intuitively. Holding her tight as he stirred in his sleep, she spoke his name to which he moaned before returning to his heavy, irregular breathing. Peeking over the side of the bed, she could make out their clothes strewn all over the floor, and on the desk in the corner of the room, his keys and cigarettes and the bottle of wine they’d polished off. Going over and inspecting each item the best she could, she strained her eyes searching for what was there, but within minutes was asleep once again.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US

10 replies »

  1. What a wonderful piece. Serene, safe, sensual, loved it. I confess though, my favorite lines – “A time where fairies come out to play. That’s what her mother told her as a child.” A reflection of her contentment, Sigh.

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