Realistic Love
With Jack asleep when the clock strikes midnight, John and Abigail have the house to themselves. The fire crackling deeply in front of the married couple, Abigail rested her head on John's lap, gazing up his bare chest, from his strong jawline freshly shaved, to the scars resting upon his nose. His pectoral muscles protruding from his ribs in a wave-like fashion, she slowly traces his skin with her four fingers, fearless of the bullet wound acquired outside of Fort Mercer; in unison, John traces her fragile, bony hands, mirroring her actions. He begins to hold her, lifting her petite body and gently places her sat on his lap, holding her back, pulling her towards him.
Lips part in synchronisation. Hands frantically grabbing, pulling, pushing; they must remember to pick up the trail of clothes before the morning. Laughing as belts are difficult to undo when in such a hurry, a red mist landing within the room as lust takes them both over. Lust, passion and love, three things all in a relationship have ever come across, maybe not all at once, but always the three; most commonly is the sin.
Sprawled across the sheets, John slowly takes over Abigail, whom has become entangled within them, her gasps echoing throughout the room as she is controlled by the one man in her life. He holds her convulsing body with one powerful arm, the other firmly holding her pelvis down as the love between them passes through her body in waves, one after the other. Removing his firm grip around her exposed body, he gently clasped his hand over her mouth as she moans through his fingers. He slowly drew himself away from her, and slowly removed his hand as she continued her heavy breathing, laying his head on her body. Abigail grabbed his hair and slowly encouraged his head to her mouth; she knew he was not finished yet.
Slow kissing and grabbing began, gently caressing of the skin continued, and playful tugs of one another's hair. John slowly made his way down her body, biting her neck with force, grasping her breasts in his hands, kissing between them within her cleavage; his lips find their way further and further down her body, from her hip bones to her inner thighs, and finally begin to talk a foreign language using his tongue between her thighs. Abigail's body began to convulse again, this man knew every way of pleasing her, from tender kisses on the neck to ravenous sex at three a.m.
Rays of sunlight penetrate the room, blurry-eyed from a few hours of sleep, John woke to face his wife still in the depth of her sleep. Carefully rolling out of bed, he creeps to the door, past the pile of abandoned clothes after the night of passion, and drags on his long-johns.
Jack is already awake, sat patiently upon the patterned fabric, reading another one of his repetitive books.
"Did you sleep well, Pa?" Jack was always so bright-eyed in the morning, as if he always had the perfect amount of sleep.
Thinking of the previous night, John nodded, and proceeded into the kitchen; he should make breakfast this morning.