They sipped hot tea in the dimness of the little room. The boat rolled and rocked, high and low, over and over, lulling them into silence. The warmth of the drink and the heaviness inside her head made her eyes close slowly. Everything was still and warm, everything was numb and so...so...

She opened her eyes and gripped the handle of her mug tighter, catching it just before it overturned into her lap.

"You tired?"

He asked from the other arm chair. He was slouched back, a half empty mug held loosely in his lap, his long legs out stretched. She smiled faintly, she had no idea of the time, even the day...she couldn't be sure, in this addled state, just how long she had been here, was it still Saturday? Had it ever been Saturday? She frowned, she needed the toilet.

"Could I borrow your bathroom? Please."

"Uh, yes. Yes! It's just..."

He set his mug down on the book case next to his chair and stood up, leaning heavily on the arm of the chair.

"It's just through here..."

He said slowly, gesturing to the door by her chair.

"Do you need a hand?"

He asked, as she struggled to her feet.

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

She steadied herself, closing her eyes for the briefest of seconds to quell the throbbing pound of blood within her ears.

Without a word he took her hand, just as he had done so many times that night, and led her into the bedroom. There were no windows here, just four boarded walls, all lined with books like the sitting room. In the centre of the room pushed back against the wall was the bed – a double bed, neatly made with soft grey bedding, a book open and laid cover up on one pillow.

"It's just in here."

He slid open a panelled door revealing a small basic shower room beyond.

"Thank you."

She said quietly and let go of his hand before edging through the door and into the bathroom, sliding the door closed behind her.

In the small bathroom she paused. She could hear the water lapping against the side of the boat, could feel the sway of the floor beneath her, a rolling lilting rock that made her head spin and her stomach lurch. She puffed out a breath.

She undid her trousers, lowered them and sat down on the toilet. Deep inside her chest a tightening pain began to coil. It quickened her breath and she closed her eyes, pushing the fingers of one hand into her ribs. She closed her eyes and slumped forwards so that all she could hear was the whooshing of blood within her ears.

Silently she murmured to herself. She tried to thread the fragments of thoughts together within her mind that seemed to flit in and out with no reason behind them. Rita. She'd let her down, she'd left her...she had no way of contacting her...again the pain in her chest tightened so much that she had to open her mouth to force in a breath. Rita and her sweetness, her brave heart, her loyalty...she didn't deserve this – her.

She screwed her eyes shut tighter and clenched her jaw so that her teeth creaked. How had this happened?

She was unravelling quicker than she had ever expected. She was flailing, bits of her spiralling out wildly, with no hope or direction. She was sinking, throwing everything she had overboard. It was inevitable, perhaps, like every suicide victim she had treated – there was just something in them that wanted to die. Whatever they did, the urge to kill themselves was stronger, and whatever she did to help them, or patch them up, they would destroy themselves anyway, they would press the self destruct button and watch helplessly as they spiralled out of control.

She was no different, she realised, but the revelation only made her feel more numb.

After a moment she finished, washed her hands and opened the door.

She hadn't expected Eliot to still be in the room. He was standing on the opposite side of the bed, hands in his pockets looking up at the books in such a way that she knew he wasn't really paying them any attention.

She pulled the sliding door closed behind her. He turned his head slightly, smiling at her.

"You've been crying."

He turned towards her as she made her way around the bed to him. She drew in a breath and pursed her lips, shaking her head.

"You read..."

She murmured, running her finger along the spine of Mrs Dalloway.

"All the time."

He said with a shrug, turning on the bedside lamp.

He moved with such a masculine elegance that seemed to match the even quietness of his voice. She could imagine him as a teacher – even with her mind as clouded as it was, she could imagine him holding the attention of a class, teaching them, inspiring them...

"You are...incredibly beautiful..."

He spoke without thinking, seemingly transfixed by her, how her hair burned a dark auburn in the lamp light, how her eyes held the green of the sea. This was the purest instant he had ever experienced; the way he felt inside right then. If he had to be trapped in a forever he would choose this very moment. The black night, the murmur of the river, the beautiful green-eyed woman with brandy laced breath, the way she gazed at him, the way she made him feel just by being so near...

"Sorry."

He said instinctively, and cleared his throat as he glanced away.

She smiled and looked down between them. This all seemed so inevitable...as though she'd lived it before...

Unable to help himself he drew the back of his hand across her cheek, into her hair, weaving his fingers against her scalp making her shudder. And when she didn't pull away he reached up with his other hand, cupping her face, drawing both hands so that his thumbs rested either side of her mouth, and he looked from her eyes to her lips, and back again, she gave an almost invisible nod of her head, silently granting him permission.

He kissed her gently, his mouth was warm and soft and the very touch of his lips made her melt, she pressed herself against him, slipping her arms up to wrap about his neck and opening her mouth. His arms crept about her, holding her body so gently.

Silently they undressed one another. Buckles, buttons and zips were undone, tops tugged carefully over heads, until shivering, their bodies touched and Eliot closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers.

"God I want you."

He whispered, and silently she kissed him again.

She'd forgotten how solid a man's body could be. And when he eased her down onto the bed, she found she instinctively wrapped her legs about his waist, marvelling at how small she felt lying there beneath him, with his arms that flexed either side of her, holding him up.

He made to move a hand between her legs, to touch her, but she shook her head and brushed him away so that he pulled back and looked down at her, beautiful blue eyes now dilated and black.

"I just want you...inside me."

She whispered, feeling him hesitate.

"But I want you to-"

"I just want to feel you."

She cut him off, hitching her legs up higher about his hips and shifting down slightly, arching her back so that what little apprehension he did have dissipated instantly and he was left watching the rise of her chest and the curve of her hips as she moved beneath him, willing him to take her.

"God..."

She closed her eyes as he edged himself into her, using a hand to guide, running the very tip of himself over the most sensitive of her flesh before pushing harder, so deep that she held her breath. She wanted this - him. She wanted to be impaled by him, to be claimed and kissed and filled so deeply that every thrust hurt just a little bit.

He kissed her again, she could feel the pin pricks of new stubble against her chin and she parted her lips, kissing him back with everything she she had as he clutched at her body, grazing her sides with his palms, with finger tips that seemed electric, for wherever they touched her, her skin tingled in a frenzy of static. And as his hands moved over her, her body fell into a transitory paralysis, her mind unable to process the pleasure so fast. He whispered to her softly, against her cheek, her ear, telling her how wet she was, how beautiful she was...

Suddenly she could feel again, she could move again, and she pulled back for a kiss that was both soft and hard, fierce and wet and unstoppable. There was something about him that lit her up from the inside, there was something about him that melted her fear to nothing at all.

Touching him was like being handed the holy grail, as though her heart was mended even though she never knew it had been broken. Then something not only stirred in her mind, but it took over her thinking. The rest of the world became an unimportant blur that was banished into the far recesses of her mind. The only thing that mattered was his touches, the way he pressed his hands against her hips to hold her steady whilst he thrust into her, expelling a soft growl of a breath into the space between their lips...the way he kissed her mouth, her stomach, how hot his breath was against her breasts, and how every glittering kiss and every touch of flesh was another shard of her heart that she would never see again.

And as she gasped and called out against him the wail of the wind blew harder outside, and the bleariness of their minds blotted out the sound of the boat door being forced open, and the creak of footsteps in the kitchen.

-.-

More later today. Let me know what you think... xxx