5:20 a.m. :: 2003-02-21
Ennui
She took a drag of the Camel, slowly exhaling and lazily watching the smoke curl upwards, adding itself to the haze that was setting in the room. It was a dreary afternoon that was beginning to fade into an even drearier dusk. She had woken up at 3 that afternoon and spent the past few hours lying on the couch without bothering to shower or eat. She picked up the remote and began flipping through channels, bored with everything she saw. She had just given up and turned off the television when he walked in the door. He threw his keys on the table and ran a hand through his hair, slightly damp from the light rain that was falling outside. He looked like he was in a bad temper but she didn't bother to ask why.
He didn't say anything, just walked past her to the bedroom and emerged a few minutes later having removed his damp shirt. He lit up a cigarette and flopped next to her on the couch. He took several drags off the smoke before he even looked over at her. She had been looking at him, watching his dark hair curl slightly as it dried, fixing her gaze on the drop of errant moisture that was running down the middle of his chest.
Their relationship had left much to be desired in recent weeks. They barely spoke and even more rarely made love. She was too bored and he was never in a good mood. This was the first time in a long while that she'd looked at him and felt even a hint of the old rush. It was just a hint though and she felt too dirty and drowsy to bother.
He looked back at her. She barely had time to register what was happening before he was on top of her. He yanked up the old t-shirt she was wearing and began to devour her greedily. She pushed at his head, trying to get him away from her.
"Stop, come on, I haven't showered. My hair is fucking filthy, I haven't shaved, you don't want..."
"Shut up." he said huskily. "I want you dirty."
She stopped pushing him away, slightly taken aback by what he had said. He took the opportunity to deftly dispose of the boxers she had been wearing.
"Really, "she said, recovering herself, " I feel all gross, I probably smell...stop...oh...oh god.." she trailed off as his hand went smoothly between her legs.
"I said shut up."
He quickly yanked down his jeans and pulled her roughly onto his cock. He thrust into her hard, and she cried out a little in a mixture of pain and euphoria. He tore off the t-shirt she was still wearing and ran his hand up her back, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her head back. He pumped hard and fast and she dug her nails into his shoulders, drawing several small spots of blood where her fingers had been. He bit and sucked her throat and her breasts hungrily as he continued to fuck her. Suddenly he shoved her back onto the couch, threw her leg up over his shoulder and entered her again.
His face was hovering over hers and there was a look she barely recognized in his dark eyes. He was breathing hard and staring at her face, like he had something to prove to her.
Her screams reached a fever pitch when she shuddered to an orgasm. He kept thrusting in and out of her and she was so sensitive now that it almost hurt. It hurt just enough to bring her to another climax as she felt him release inside of her. He collapsed atop her chest, breathing heavily and not speaking.
She lay there beneath him wondering what to do now. For a moment they were back on the same wavelength, feeling every sensation as though they were one person again. But was it just for a moment?
He propped himself up on his arms, looking strangely into her face. They studied each other for a moment, then he leaned over, picked up the box of Camels from the table, and lit one.
He took a drag and put the cigarette between her slightly smiling lips.
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