Spring 28, Year 4

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Jewels were placed on the wooden countertop neatly by size and color. They glittered prettily as the hearth grew warmer, the overhead lights turned off for the night. The fire danced off of their reflective surfaces, creating a stage to glare its message into the night. While the jewels danced, the minerals glowed from the absorbed heat, the luster calling any eye to observe especially the gold.

       My hands glided carefully over each stone, counting each variety I had, numbering each gemstone like they had a soul. I closed my eyes, feeling each one, recounting the ones who had come from the dead. It was rare to find such a gem, but I did find them.

Clint's presence entered through his bedroom doorway, unsurprised to find me at his desk, counting the previous day's spoils. His eyes lingered on me, as he tied his sweatpants around his waist, having just changed from his work clothes and into some more comfortable loungewear. He leaned against the doorframe, and looked into the hot coals, amazed at their warmth. My teeth grinded with anticipation as he took his time before observing me.

"I thought you would have joined me last night," he grumbled. He stood up more straight in the doorway, the light shadowing him in a silhouette. My head tilted as I looked at him, straining for any detail. I was permitted none.

"I was more lonely last night than I had been in years," He turned his head back to the fire. "I needed you more than you know." His hand reached for the bedroom light switch, and he flicked it off easily.

I was able to see his face more clearly now, the fire becoming the only source of illumination in the whole of his shop. I looked at his face, chiseled with partial light, structured and defined.

He began to walk towards me, each step prompted by the interest in his eyes, their blaze growing as they caught more luminance, the deep pools of amber syrup sparking with glazed wonder.

He stepped closer and closer, his feet scuffing the ground beneath him, yet his legs stayed strong and powerful, not questioning its direction towards me. My chest heaved up and down with deep heated breaths, my stomach anticipating his nearness, his hefty body in control of mine all throughout the starlit night. I closed my eyes, prepared for his contact, rough or soft, whichever he chose. I was his, no matter how he used me.

My nerves were volatile, not used to the idea of another person having power over me. Not physically, anyway. Yet, the weakness that I felt, in the knees, in the spirit, was intoxicating to me. I felt as though my spirit were fluid enough to drink it, each particle of myself escaping through my parted, free, lips.

His hands encased the back of my arms, keeping me in place, resolutely making me his with nowhere to hide. I gasped for the tepid air, feeling the smoke in the fireplace enter my senses just as his pine odor entwined with my breath. His touch moved to my shoulders above my breast, and he pushed nimbly towards the wall closest to his workspace. I readily moved with him, not resisting at the moment. I felt the cool wall push against my palms, my back pressed as far as I could, and yet Clint was still moving forward towards me. Slowly yet surely, he didn't stop until his abdomen was pushed tight against my breast.

I forced the lids of my eyes to open and observe him. His expression hadn't changed from that sleepy red nose and rosy cheeks. He exhaled as he looked down at me, and I could smell the trace of beer on his lips. They parted, manifesting his words before he could think to say them.

"I don't like the person I am without you," he sighed, his eyes falling at last. My chest fought to stay heaving. His calloused hand reached up to my face and sensually stroked under my eye. It didn't matter if I kept fighting to stand, the immense pressure of his frame against mine was enough to keep my head afloat.

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