The earliest rays of of the morning sun (that same, blasted light that had all but blinded him when he first got here) peeked through the wooden slats, cast themselves across the bed like golden fingers begging them both awake. It was still a harsh, unforgiving light, to be sure, but Richard found more and more he didn't mind it so much when it was illuminating Camille's skin in a dewy glow. She was still asleep, wrapped up in the cheap cotton bed sheets, her hair in the natural curl.
The wilting bouquet of hibiscus on the side table and wedding clothes strewn about the floor were the only physical evidence to what had happened the day before- for Richard, however, this was a morning a thousand times unlike any of the others that they'd woken up together. After all, this was the morning he could say, for the very first time:
"Ah. Good morning, Mrs. Bordey-Poole. Was beginning to wonder when you might join us."
She giggled sleepily and stretched like a cat.
"Am I not allowed to sleep-in the morning after my wedding? We've only got three days, you know…"
"And here I thought I was getting myself an early riser." He swung his legs over the side of the bed with every intention to start them the breakfast he'd planned. "That's false advertising, I'm afraid. By all rights I should serve you papers...but I suppose egg and soldiers will have to suffice for now."
Sleeping was all well and good, but Richard had always been the restless type and he had aspirations of making the most of his and Camille's uninterrupted time alone. He may or may not have even written them up a schedule (he definitely did).
But as was characteristic of her, his new wife had other plans.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His pajamas did little to mute the feel of her bare breasts pressing into his back.
"Stay in bed a bit longer," she coaxed in that silken purr of hers, nuzzling his ear, gently biting his ear lobe. "I promise to make it worth your while."
"Succubus," he teased, placing his hand over hers, but it was somewhat true. She commanded a power of lust over him that he couldn't hope to fight and wouldn't ever want to...but, perhaps, he had some surprises yet for her.
In the course of their relationship he'd gotten more and more comfortable taking a lead, but turning around and happily tackling her back into bed with kisses was without precedent. She laughed and threw her head back and he took the opportunity to plant a trail of kisses along the column of her neck.
"Let's see if I can find a use for you, then, Sergeant," he said with a hint of a lascivious growl. Camille grinned, bit her lip before hiking her legs up around him.
"I'm proud of you," Camille said as they made their way along the sand, the latter half of the day stretching out lazily before them. "Not only did you consent to being married on the beach...but I somehow, finally got you into island-appropriate clothing. Were you waiting for wedding vows this entire time?"
"Oh, guilty, I'm afraid," Richard confessed. "'Twas my plan all along and you fell for it hook, line and sinker."
She laughed and squeezed his hand. He didn't used to avidly try to make her laugh and...well, he still didn't, because he didn't know how to be funny. Still, he seemed to amuse her and there was nothing he loved more than the sound of her laughter, so he did what he could to play up himself here and there to hopefully encourage her amusement.
"In all seriousness," he amended. "I decided the one occasion it was encouraged I wear a tailored suit on the beach was as good as the last. I...want to acclimate to things here. Really try, anyway. I mean, I've...I've rather married into the island, haven't I?"
"Perhaps...though I believe the island wanted you long before."
"Well...perhaps that longing was mutual."
They stopped and Camille took advantage of the moment to pull him to her.
"Then why did you leave it so long?" she begged his answer, ghosting her lips over his. He replied in desperation, "Because I am an utter fool," and kissed her hard as the two of them stumbled backwards into the shade of thick cluster of palm trees, all hands and lips and tongues like a pair of 20 year old university students. True to that fashion, things seemed to be going the way of resuming their course from the house right there in the palm tree cluster (to which Richard had to admit to being a bit trepidatious, even on this secluded stretch of beach) and they probably would have had a lifeless limb not thudded against Camille's shoulder.
