funeral, a flock of birds, and a stranger
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Please.” She said, voice ragged,
“I want everything to hurt.”
Finally, after days of dreading the after, the moment was gone. Past…
He came with a hard breath and a snarl and the slam of his body into her, hands on her face, pressing her eyes closed, his cock touching every place inside her. She came around him, in one of those rare moments when two people come together, in harmony, her cunt spasming, like the motion of wings in flight.
After. still in the middle of the kitchen floor, legs extended and tangled together; they rested, catching their breath, and he tilted his head down to rest on the top of hers, brushing her hair out of her eyes. In time, she watched him get dressed slowly, so unlike the fury of before. He turned around to pull on his shirt, and she saw the tattoo on his back, curling around to touch the side of his throat; an attacking bird with big black wings. He left carrying his boots, bare feet padding down the hardwood.