gloom

r | sexual content

It was just sex the first time.

Maybe in a few years, when memory is tainted, she'll remember it differently. But for the moment, even with the beer in her system right now, she knows it was just sex.

It had happened in the dark. Sheets pulled over skin, as if someone was watching. They weren't drunk or upset; it just happened. He kept his eyes shut. She bit her lip to stifle her moans.

It hadn't happened again for three weeks. They hadn't even really talked about it, only dancing around the issue in vague terms.

(That would turn out to be the hallmark of their relationship.)

The second time, it was only sex.

Then, they had been upset. There was a natural progression from holding to kissing to the bed. They both needed the same thing, so neither one was satisfied.

After that, there hadn't been a hiatus.

The fifth time, it started out as only sex.

She was sad; he was frustrated. They weren't gods, and this job forced them to realize that all too often. He pounded her body, and for the first time, she looked into his eyes. There was a darkness to him that he never let others see, but in that moment, he let her in.

That was when it stopped being just sex.

The ring isn't on his finger now. He's in her bed; Maria's miles away. He has returned to her -

(He never left.)

- but not really.

This time, it was just sex.

(fin.)