In a dark corner, he stole her. Wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a circle of warmth she had forgotten could exist. It wasn’t better or worse. It was just them and she wasn’t sure how long she could stay in his arms and not completely fall. For him it was too late. He was lost to her completely and even though it would never be, could never be, he was a thief stealing this moment and however many more he could.
Our heroine has taken a lover. And she doesn’t regret it. She’s never had a lover before and it’s a bit hard to wrap her mind around it so I’m giving her a few days off. You missed the scene with the couch and the blow job because the Internet ate it (Okay, let’s be honest, I hit a button and it vanished, stupid thumbs). I’m working on a scene in a different story. There are no heroic figures in this one. In fact, I hate all but one of my MCs and I’m working on various ways to kill them off. There will be blood.
Have you ever wondered if those things we think about just before waking are part of our dreams or are the first thoughts about our day? They are often so closely spaced it can be hard to tell. Maybe that’s the space where the door was born. Probably. Said it before, say it again; Fuck that door.
I’m gonna try a new thing today. I’ll let you know how it goes.