In Bed, by Craig Murray
By: Craig Murray
When they kissed it was as if nothing else existed. The room, unremarkable, bland, swirled about and faded into nothingness. Their universe was a sphere ten feet across and they were its centre.
In Bed, Craig Murray.
Her lips were as soft as the petals of a rose, her breath like sugar upon his tongue. He was lost in the sensation of her, of her body against his. He sought her out with a hunger, a need both physical and emotional.
Finding her hair his fingers wrapped themselves amongst the silken curls that caught the sunlight. He pressed her closer to him, pressed his lips into her, his tongue sought her out. She opened her mouth and willingly accepted his offering.
Years passed, or maybe seconds before either was able to stop, gasping, panting and realize what was happening. It was the moment, the pair of them, their hunger, their completeness in that place.
They moved backwards, a concerted stagger where they never lost contact, never broke the connection. He sat back on the couch and pulled her on top of him. She knelt, knees on either side of his lap, sitting on him, leaning into him. The kiss returned, the magic unbroken.
They explored each other, they felt each other, they found that missing piece of themselves buried there in a strangers heart. With that discovery came answers, all the words that had escaped them, all the feelings they had thought they were missing flooded out and into each other. They knew now what they had been searching for all their lives.
Years later, or maybe minutes, and then they both knew what they needed, what they wanted. They rose without words, without request, without the need for either. Clothes were tossed aside as unnecessary encumbrances useful only to lesser beings. In love they had become gods.
She stood naked, a statue, an offering to Venus. She was the temple and he the petitioner kneeling before the altar. They moved towards and into the bed without hesitation, without embarrassment or concern. This was right, they knew it was right, of all the right things they had ever known, this moment, this person was all of them.
When their flesh touched it was heat personified, it was a blaze that arced between them like the storms of summer. Their bodies met and where they met was fire, where they stroked came alive as if the flesh itself had slept for want of this love.
Her fingers sought the hardness, his sought the warmth and in that touch they moaned for need and ache. She found him and took him to herself, drew him up, found the ways of him and caressed both tenderly and firmly until his need for her became too great and he was forced to move away.
He found a path down her soft flesh, tracing muscle, tiny hairs, he kissed and licked lower until the scent of her drew him in like a bee to the flower. And when he found the nectar he drank deeply of its draught. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment then opened with the realization of what he was doing. She had never experienced what he was offering, never known that such a thing was done, such a sensation experienced. As he pried the petals of her garden apart with kisses and gentle manipulations she found a light growing that had before been dim.
Her fingers, wanting, needing, grasping found his hair and slipped deeply into his locks. She pressed in, pulled away, she wanted and at the same time couldn’t take all that was there. But her body knew better, she arced upwards to him, pressed forward onto him, pushed into him and wanted him into her. And when that light shone brighter still, and when she was for the moment blinded by it she gripped him tightly with both hands and her breath caught in her throat. She was lost in a sensation, lost in a moment of bliss, in the touch, in a wave that traveled the length of her and left curling waves of fire behind it.
He smiled at what he had done.
He waited, just for a moment.
When her breath slowed down, returned to her. When she could move without the waves crashing against her, she smiled as well. Her smile was short lived as he lowered his head in prayer at this altar. He mouthed sacred words that only they knew and she shuddered and tried to push him back. This prayer, so quickly repeated was more than she could stand and yet, while pushing she was betrayed. Her mind relinquished as her body accepted and once more she sought the lessons he imparted.
Quicker this time, the field already having been plowed the seeds find the furrow faster. Where before minutes had passed, now it seemed that seconds flittered past on butterflies wings before once again the waves began to crash upon her ivory shore. Louder now she cried her supplication to this new god and sacrificed herself willingly to his words. She held his head and squeezed herself around him. Trapped between her thighs, a willing prisoner he waited for the moment when she was able to descend from where she was.
When finally her eyes opened, when her breath was no longer a ragged gasping, she looked at him in awe and appreciation and love. She pulled him to her, kissed, him, tasted him and in that taste found herself and her love and all they had shared. They kissed and held and spoke and laughed until she knew the favour must be returned.
His body was not new to her, she knew it, she had always known it. Never seen, never experienced and yet with her eyes closed she navigated her way down him. Her fingers played with the hairs, felt the flesh, sought the places she sought until finally she had arrived at her destination.
He was there, ready for her, wanting, needing. She felt his need, she shared his need, they shared a hunger. She moved forward, her intent, her desire, her lips and tongue all seeking the same salvation. She met him and in that meeting she declared her love, her lust, her want. She moved herself about him, explored in the most personal of ways.
She prayed at his staff as he had at her altar and they found the same religion. And when his body responded, and when he moaned and shook, both pushed away and pulled in, when he grew to her touch and released himself they knew they had shared a sacred moment.
She paused, she waited, she enjoyed the fruits of her labours. She kissed tenderly, she touched mindfully and lovingly. Finally she returned to him, made her way up into the crook of his arm and settled herself upon his shoulder. They lay in the bliss of knowing, of doing and in knowing there was more yet to be done.
With the immediate hunger satiated they now began the journey of learning, the exploration, the finding. They were two blank maps, to empty charts waiting to be filled in. Their hands and eyes, lips and tongues were their cartographers tools and soon enough their sojourns had begun.
The moved like ships upon the ocean, their swells and winds, troughs and crests were all navigated through until they knew all that was left was to find themselves deep in each others shores. He moved above her and gazed into his eyes. He held her, trapped beneath him, ready for him and yet worried by him. She could force him away with a fingertip and yet draw him in with a smile.
And when they touched it was as steel from the furnace into the quench. Had there been steam they would not have been surprised. Softly at first, tentatively he moved forward, a delicate touch belying an animalistic want. It was an act of love, and act of sharing that he knew meant so much, and would mean so much.
What he offered, she had never had and they were both so conscious of all that this meant. To her it would mean a passage from one state to another. To him it meant a responsibility to her needs, her emotions, her satisfaction for never again would this moment come.
They found each other gently, they found each other willfully, they found each other forcefully. They explored and tried, moved and repositioned. They moved slowly and they moved with all the needs and desires they could find. When finally they both had found that which they needed they moved to each other in gentle consideration.
Words of love were spoken, quotes of adoration, of admiration, of kindness. No hollow words, no empty phrases, this barrier had been crossed and in its crossing was an entrance to a new life.
The years passed as all years must. The children who met were the adults now since gone, they grey heads that remained. The room they met in had been replaced times over, the memory of the building itself held only in their hearts. And in their hearts remained the passion, the need, the love that had flourished when first they prayed.