She walks restlessly from her room downstairs into the living room, sits on the couch, flipping through a magazine she bought and never read. But it's not enough. She throws it on the table, getting up again and wandering into the kitchen. Looking at her house as if she'd never even seen it before. Standing in the doorway to her kitchen she stops and listens. It's quiet, almost eerily so. A whole house full of space. Of emptiness. It becomes oppressive, threatening to suffocate her, so she grabs her purse from the table and escapes through the back door.
It is the middle of the night, so she doesn't't have to worry about running into anyone from town. As much as they are a family tonight is not the night for friendship. It's a night for – something. Something dangerous. Different. Comforting.
Without meaning to her feet lead her to the place she hadn't even thought of yet isn't surprised to be led here. What she's surprised at is the light that shines through the door onto the street. Has he felt the same oppression she felt tonight? Has he waited for her? Or has he merely been engrossed in tomorrow's grocery list and forgotten everything around him, getting lost in pickles and salad.
She walks up to the door, looking, watching him through the open blinds. He sits at the counter, staring into nothingness. Without knocking she draws his gaze to hers and when he gets up there is no surprise, no jokes, no words. They both feel it, even before they are in the same room.
He opens the door and the next second she is pressed against him, their lips touching, their hands groping, holding, roaming along their bodies. She bumps against the door, the handle hurting her back, but what the fuck do bruises matter when skin can heal and death cannot. It is more than sex, it is their need to feel alive and understood. He pulls her in, closing the door and the blinds, turning off the lights all in one fluid motion and most importantly without letting go of her.
Pressing her against the wall he pulls her sweater over her head and discards it somewhere on the floor in his diner. She is shivering, the cold mingling with the loss of his lips, grabbing his shirt and ripping it off sending buttons everywhere before crushing his lips to hers once again. His arms wander between them, pushing up under her shirt, feeling her breasts, squeezing nipples and massaging, before slowly wandering lower. She breaks the kiss and moans as he agonizingly slowly starts rubbing her through her jeans. Her hips move on their own, trying to press into him, causing more friction, causing more pleasure.
His hand slipping into her jeans, moving past the last silky barrier he discovers her insides waiting for him and complies with a brush of his finger. Her mouth opens for another gasp and flushes her cheeks, a sight which almost causes him to come and so he speeds up.
Lowering her onto the floor he positions himself between her legs and focuses his eyes on hers and he understands what he sees in her eyes. Quickly his pants are unzipped, quickly hers suffer the same fate, being pushed down, forgotten in the heat of the battle, he pushes himself up on one arm and looks at her dark black eyes, searching for anything else. She answers with another kiss and within a second he is inside her, filling her and loving her like only he can. No doubts exist this moment, no lies and no past. Only the present of touch and feel.
Pumping into her, they kiss again, their lips spilling so much more than words, unsaid promises of the future, prospects of a happier life. Opening her eyes to his she stares at him staring at her and with a final cry they both come, collapsing in each others arms.
Still breathing hard he slips out of her, rolling on his side pulling her with him, settling her in the hollow of his shoulder, their eyes focused on each other. A million thoughts running through her mind, yet she pushes them far far away, waiting for sleep to overtake her. Regret and hate can wait till after. His eyes say the same.
