We had been feuding all week, a low simmering roil of resentment. The cause, of course, was small and petty, but it was the small wound that allowed long-suppressed resentments to pour forth. Each, alone, was minor, but after long seasons to fester, they’d become toxic, and the rush of bitterness caught both of us by surprise. We’d fought with viciously controlled intensity, each laying our attacks with deadly precision, with deliberate aim, and hateful vigor. New wounds opened veins of old poisons, and we mined these lodes with cold intent, forging newer, ever more cruel barbs from the hard ore of forgotten hurts. Not a curse crossed our lips, nor was a single voice raised in our anger. Civil, quiet, deadly, was our battle, and the very house trembled in the thundering silence that fell afterwards. We nursed our new wounds, banking the fires, storing away hurts with gleefull intent, preparing for future battles.
Sleeping in the same bed, each out of sheer stubbornness refusing to yield our place, we may as well have been in separate fortresses miles apart. Backs to each other, we re-fought the day’s skirmishes in our minds, and prepared for the morrow.
I sleep deeply, but have that peculiar talent for waking at a moment’s notice, when necessary, that comes from a decade and more of listening to ship’s announcements in my sleep, deciding which applied to me, and which did not, without conscious thought. I came awake with instant alertness this night, my mind seeking the cause. It wasn’t hard to find. A hot, almost searing, hip was pressed to mine, and I was rigidly erect, with an animal need coursing through my body. Angrily, I tried to suppress my need, not willing to yield anything to my foe, but her hip moved, gently, against me, and a red wave of lust obscured my vision.
NO!
I wasn’t about to allow myself to respond. I was still too angry. With perverse satisfaction, I cruelly squashed my desire again, though my cock remained defiantly erect, and my mind kept darting toward the heated contact of our bodies. She moved again, snoring gently, her shoulders shifting, her back rolling onto my arm, and seemingly of its own will, my free hand slid across her waist, over her smooth belly. I was in an almost hypnotic state, mind locked around my core of resentful hurt, but other, stronger, more primitive emotions and needs were directing my actions. I pulled myself over onto my side, freeing my trapped arm, the arm laying across her waist moving down, hand crossing a nest of downy curls, up, across a smooth thigh, down around the back of that tightly muscled leg.
