In the Morning
The Halloween, pumpkin-headed sun peeked its little head out and poured sunlight into the small opening of the curtain hanging inside the Skellington Manor's tower. A young rag-doll was the first to awaken, and she sleepily opened her eyes to see that, in fact, she was in the Pumpkin King's bed.
She smiled to herself, relieving last night's activities. Jack was so good! She couldn't believe it herself. Then again, nobody's ever done that with her before, so she really shouldn't be comparing anything.
Suddenly, she felt a jab—right on her lower back! What was it? It definitely felt solid...hard...ouch, why did it poke her?
Oh, yeah. Jack had said he couldn't help it, especially in the morning. She also recalled him telling her that it was pretty embarassing now that it always seemed to hit her instead of the mattress (he used to face down to control it). What else did he mention?
Although this had been a regular occurrence ever since she was invited to live with her king, she hadn't really done anything about it.
She might as well.
Frowning now, she reached a hand underneath the covers and gingerly grasped the offending...well, thing, for lack of a better word. It was smooth (at least the length of it), hard, and very long. Sally, concentrating completely, squeezed and the slumbering Jack beside her made an odd, ragged type of noise as she did so. Under her hand, something moved, and it jabbed against her with even more force than the first time. She could've sworn Jack's lower body moved, too.
It was on!
Scowling, she turned fully around so she was facing her love and couldn't help but sigh at his happy, dreaming face. She briefly wondered what he was so pleased and concentrated about, but otherwise brushed the thought off. With both hands, she felt around for the attacker and, when she was sure it was still, grabbed onto it roughly, almost yanking it down, relishing the moment.
Jack bolted awake at this, and gasped at the contact. His face was indescribable, and his breathing came out very uneven. Actually, he could've been panting. "S-Sally...?"
Blinking once, the young, undead girl peered underneath the sheets to see what had been poking her all along. She smiled at the sight. "Oh, Jack..." she cooed, stroking it.
"Er—why are you holding my femur?"
"You were kneeing me again, sweetie." She then let go, planting a kiss upon his bony lips. "I still can't believe about last night, though..."
"Why? I thought you liked chess!"
A/N: This...sounds weird. If you're confused, that's okay, I just wanted to write a small story to satisfy my boredom. Rated G, isn't it?
To those smiling 'cause they know their minds are in the gutter...same here!
If you don't get it, you're lucky.
Disclaimer: I am not Tim Burton. That should be enough.