On some nights, an owl would sit off in the darkness of the yard somewhere and comment on the world. It wasn't often but it was there that night, repeating its melancholic assertion on the way that things went. The two lay panting and covered in perspiration in a house that was so still and so quiet that the sound of the bird and their uneven breaths seemed over-loud; rarely was their life punctuated by stretches of quiet with two children. Ame had not woken once and they had taken advantage of it for an uninterrupted intimacy in their own bed. Mostly, since the birth of their son, their need had had to be sated in brief and scalding opportunities presented by their surroundings away from their charges, such as the private, small, cerulean haunt of her office upstairs at the bar.
As it was often between them, the act of sex was borne of a certain fury. There was the incessant feeling of lost time and chasing missing hours with one another from all the years before this, so that when the time was free to lose themselves in one another, it was filled with their passion and in it, an urgency and an impatience, a characteristic which had come to define the physical aspect of their relationship more and more. Clothes and sheets were tossed seas around the bed as they lay staring at the ceiling, waiting for their racing hearts to fall back into their chests. Madison inhaled and smiled and looked over to Tag, who was intently focusing above with his arm resting against his forehead. She rolled onto her side and rested her cheek on a hand watching him.
"...Is it the carrots again?"
He smiled in that way that he did these days. It was a slow progression that went all the way instead of stopping just short, as it had when they were new to one another, unsure and he had been burdened with indecision. But though he smiled, his brows were still knit with thought.
"I was thinking.... about Fin."
"Right now, right after screwing me senseless?" There was a lazy tease of a smile from her. "Not what I expected."
He made a sound in his throat as he faced her, rolling to sit up in a fluid and straight-backed motion so that his chest was forward and his shoulders were straight. He reached out to touch her just beneath the chin. "No, not during. I was... thinking about the moment. On the porch. What we discussed and how..." The star-pricked dark of his night-time eyes looked perturbed, worried, confused.
"You were goin' to react like that. We.... you... never discuss it. Kind of like my gun. They're parts of our lives we've put away. At least until such a time...." She shifted to sit up, legs curled to the side, raking a hand through the sleepless tangle of her hair, still damp and wild from their lovemaking. "Until such a time we could. We've been chasin' after kids, renovatin' a bar, dealing with the every day. Bringing our life forward. You and I don't stop until we make love... and even then..." she pursed her mischievous mouth. "I'm just surprised you're thinking..."
"I'm sorry." He took his hand from her chin and placed it on the bed flat, his fingers splaying. Each nail was trimmed down short and his hands with calloused fingers spoke of hours of wood and labor and sun, as much as they did a good coin trick. "It has been on my mind behind the other thoughts. Looking at the ceiling it came to me what was there. How I.. felt. How I still feel."
With the air through the open window touching her bare, sweat-cooling skin, she drew her robe from the end of the bed around her and moved to the window to close it. Tying its belt, she lifted a brow and walked around to his side to sit down. "Then, it is comin' out baby. If not now, then tomorrow, or the next day. It's inevitable." Her voice was low so not to awaken the children and soft, creased with emotion like those indentations in the silk of the deep, blue robe that concealed her.
"Porch?"
She smiled at him and placed a hand on his knee. Like she did, when she was about to suggest they head home. It was always a gesture of concern or want when she did that, want for him or for their old boots to meet the road. Or now, to sit with her on their porch with the crickets and talk. "Come."
As it was often between them, the act of sex was borne of a certain fury. There was the incessant feeling of lost time and chasing missing hours with one another from all the years before this, so that when the time was free to lose themselves in one another, it was filled with their passion and in it, an urgency and an impatience, a characteristic which had come to define the physical aspect of their relationship more and more. Clothes and sheets were tossed seas around the bed as they lay staring at the ceiling, waiting for their racing hearts to fall back into their chests. Madison inhaled and smiled and looked over to Tag, who was intently focusing above with his arm resting against his forehead. She rolled onto her side and rested her cheek on a hand watching him.
"...Is it the carrots again?"
He smiled in that way that he did these days. It was a slow progression that went all the way instead of stopping just short, as it had when they were new to one another, unsure and he had been burdened with indecision. But though he smiled, his brows were still knit with thought.
"I was thinking.... about Fin."
"Right now, right after screwing me senseless?" There was a lazy tease of a smile from her. "Not what I expected."
He made a sound in his throat as he faced her, rolling to sit up in a fluid and straight-backed motion so that his chest was forward and his shoulders were straight. He reached out to touch her just beneath the chin. "No, not during. I was... thinking about the moment. On the porch. What we discussed and how..." The star-pricked dark of his night-time eyes looked perturbed, worried, confused.
"You were goin' to react like that. We.... you... never discuss it. Kind of like my gun. They're parts of our lives we've put away. At least until such a time...." She shifted to sit up, legs curled to the side, raking a hand through the sleepless tangle of her hair, still damp and wild from their lovemaking. "Until such a time we could. We've been chasin' after kids, renovatin' a bar, dealing with the every day. Bringing our life forward. You and I don't stop until we make love... and even then..." she pursed her mischievous mouth. "I'm just surprised you're thinking..."
"I'm sorry." He took his hand from her chin and placed it on the bed flat, his fingers splaying. Each nail was trimmed down short and his hands with calloused fingers spoke of hours of wood and labor and sun, as much as they did a good coin trick. "It has been on my mind behind the other thoughts. Looking at the ceiling it came to me what was there. How I.. felt. How I still feel."
With the air through the open window touching her bare, sweat-cooling skin, she drew her robe from the end of the bed around her and moved to the window to close it. Tying its belt, she lifted a brow and walked around to his side to sit down. "Then, it is comin' out baby. If not now, then tomorrow, or the next day. It's inevitable." Her voice was low so not to awaken the children and soft, creased with emotion like those indentations in the silk of the deep, blue robe that concealed her.
"Porch?"
She smiled at him and placed a hand on his knee. Like she did, when she was about to suggest they head home. It was always a gesture of concern or want when she did that, want for him or for their old boots to meet the road. Or now, to sit with her on their porch with the crickets and talk. "Come."