tamiahua.

witch

Bares her teeth at that girl through the window. Shades up, eye contact, makes sure she sees. A silent snarl. Rafael doesn't see. The girl stops staring at him.

--

Breakfast she eats while wearing his jacket. It's big on her, a leather drape that smells heavily of him. May as well smell of something; her own scent won't cover it. She drives, then he drives. She naps, then she drives a while longer. She looks at the ocean. Their stints of driving shorten; they trade more but keep going. She stares at the endless black water, knowing it. Night deepens and she murmurs, asking him if he wants to pull over again. He says he's not tired. Says he slept plenty. She tries to stay awake but dozes off. Pillow on the center console between them now. Head on the pillow. Does it even though she can't sleep well there. Does it to be close to him. Doesn't say so.

Of course not.

--

Restless, she wakes long before dawn. Looks sleepy and drawn, as they go along. She watches the scenery, arms folded along the window. Wants the windows down. Hair down, flickering in the breeze. Smells everything, perhaps because she has none of her own. Rafael begins to slow the car closer to the water and she wants to run into the sea and she wants to sleep on the sand and she wants to curl up in a bed with him again.

Devon yawns, broadly, loudly, long.

"Wanna sleep on the beach?"

wolfman

Car rolls to a gentle stop near those little cabins. Sunbeaten, windswept. Boards swollen and cracked by sea, by sun; painted over again and again in those happy pastels.

Engine idles a while, then quits. Wolf sits there a moment. He's tired. Girl can see that. Complexion a bit ashen, shadows under his eyes. That sort of stupor of a long drive in his gaze.

Wolf thinks a while. Shakes his head slowly.

"Wanna sleep in a bed," he says. "With you. Windows and door open though, and light blankets. So we can smell the sea."

Turns to her then. Gives her a smile, small, tired. "We'll go down to the beach later. Grill up some shrimp or something. Swim. Sleep on the sand tonight if you want."

witch

Her skin feels tired. She picks up a bottle; drinks some water while he's thinking. He says he wants a bed. With her. Window open, air on their bodies. She smirks, lazily, and looks back out at the water.

"All right," she murmurs. Breathes in deep, closing her eyes, and then sits up, unfastening her belt, nodding at what he says as she turns to him. Leans over the console, leans into him, rests her nose against his neck a bit. "Sounds good."

wolfman

Wolf never seems very good at these unscripted acts of casual affection. Sort of sits there a second or two. Then he puts his arm around her, heavy, embrace loose. He's got his head back against the rest. Stares heavyliddedly at that blue, blue ocean while girl rests against him.

"Come on."

Wolf opens his door, gets out. Pops the trunk and drags out their bags, two big duffles that he piles onto one shoulder without much trouble. Slams the trunk lid shut and trudges toward one of those little cabins, opening his arm to hook the girl haphazardly against his side as he goes.

witch

Always takes him a bit to react. She smiles loosely as he gets his arm around her. She just rests there, half uncomfortable and half... the most comfortable she's ever been. After a while she kisses the side of his neck, soft, just a press of her lips wherever they might fall.

And he says come on. And she stretches away, slides out, pulling her stuff with her, sunglasses and so on. Her bottle of water. They sway a bit as they walk, from sheer sea-legged-ness and exhaustion. So there is some attempted communication with the proprietors of the cabins. There's some stilting work, but it's pretty clear what they want. A room. They pay cash here, up front. They drag themselves to one of those cabins, which is a bit musty but clean, and as he dumps duffels down, Devon goes to open the windows.

She sneezes a copule of times. And then she flops on the bed, which is low and soft and narrower than what either of them sleep on back at his townhouse, and pulls off her shoes, her socks. Starts to unfasten her jeans.

wolfman

Neither of them speak the language here. Neither of them really look like they belong here, though truth is both of them look like there's maybe a little more to their genetic makeup than her freckles and his van-der-whatever name suggests. It's not the bloodlines, though, that make them stand out. It's the air that surrounds them. That feel of the north, of winter, that they haven't shed yet.

Might, soon. So warm here. So humid, so hazy, so lazy.

Girl's the one to do most of the communicating. Wolf stands by with bags over his shoulder, squinting in the sun with his sunglasses tucked into the collar of his shirt. Now he's in a t-shirt. Now his leather jacket is tossed somewhere unseen and unthought-of. Flexed against the weight of their luggage, his biceps are enormous, torso carved out of steel.

Dust rises with their bags falling. Girl opens the windows and throws back the curtains. They're old-fashioned; the sorts of windows that swing open. Shutters too, so they can leave the glass open all night. Cabins are small and ceilings are low, and at this latitude the sun comes down from above even in winter. Doesn't really slant in the windows, large as they are. Interior remains relatively dark. It's not a bad thing. Bit of a respite from the light outside, all-pervasive. Girls flops while wolf is exploring the bathroom, where there's an old claw-footed bathtub and a washbasin and the sort of toilet with the tank up high. Gravity-driven flush.

Minimal toiletries. Just four towels: two big, two small. Everything's pretty barebones. Wolf splashes some water on his face and comes back wiping his face on his shirt, which he pulls up and off while girl's doffing shoes and socks and jeans.

Wolf's eyes gleam with unhidden interest. But he's tired, too. He grabs her jeans as she gets them off, tosses them on the floor. Flops down next to her with a heave of a sigh, bucking his hips up to push his pants off. Socks and shoes tumble off in the mix. Sheets are thin; blanket's thin too. Wolf tosses the covers over his middle but leaves his lower legs, upper body bared. Pillows are flat so he thumps them into some sort of shape.

Lies there for a while, looking out the window at their feet. Door's still wide open, but wolf doubts anyone's going to come snooping. Cross-breeze is nice. Warm over bare skin.

"Come here." Wolf opens his arm, pulls the girl against his side. Closes his eyes.

witch

She's sitting on the edge of the bed as she removes her jeans. Stands briefly to shimmy the tight things down: her panties are dark blue, nearly purple, today. They have white stars on them. Steps out of them and turns, unhooking her bra and slipping it out from that shirt with the sleeves (and half the sides cut out). Tosses the black bra aside, crawls onto the bed.

Wants to wash up a little but she's really tired. And he's right there, looking at her the way he does, taking off his clothes.

Devon doesn't need to be told to come closer. She crawls half over him, sheets tangling between their legs, her body bared, and curls up under his arm, against his side, head on his chest. She opens her thighs against his; lets the meat of his leg press against her cunt.

Sighs, in such a way.

Rubs herself, slowly, a little mindlessly and a lot sleepily, against him. Hasn't realized he never closed the door, or she might tell him to get up and do it.

wolfman

Wolf's eyes open again.

Sort of slowly. Lashes unweaving, lids rising. Wolf stares at the ceiling a moment. Cracks in the plaster. No mold though. On an inhale wolf turns -- rolls on top. Thin sheets tangle until he tugs them smooth again. He's looking down at her, serious the way he so often is.

"Kinda too tired for foreplay," he says, romantic beast that he is. "I'll go slow and gentle though."

witch

Devon isn't that aggressive. She rubs against him like a child self-soothing, snuggling herself to sleep. She sighs against his chest. And then she feels him turning, and her eyes open slowly to his, and then he's taking her, rolling her onto her back, moving on top of her.

Her breath catches in her chest. He tells her he's too tired for foreplay. Tells her he'll be gentle.

She reaches up, touching his hair, pulling him down to her. Kissing him. "Take off my panties," she mutters, against his lips. And starts kissing him again.

wolfman

Girl's fingers thread into his hair. Pads of her fingers feel cool against his scalp. Something elemental and soothing about a touch like that. There's a reason animals calm to stroking. She pulls him down. He goes willingly and easily, bare chest to bare breasts, two thin layers of cotton between their lower bodies.

Kiss is a slow thing. Sleepy, weary, gentle. Second time has a little more heat in it, but even that's a lazy, unwinding thing. Wolf smooths his hand down her side and under the waistband of her panties. Pushes them down her legs, alternating sides, taking his time.

Gets down past her knees. She pushes them the rest of the way with her feet. Same for his boxers: he tugs them down, pushes them down, gets them off with his feet.

Naked now. His bare back and his bare feet; her bare feet too. Thin sheet across their middle. Truth is if anyone looked in there'd be no question what they were doing. But no one looks in. Nothing but the gulf outside, hazy and blue. Nothing but the sound of waves, seabirds, ocean wind through the battered trees.

Wolf's true to his word. Not much in the way of foreplay, but he licks his fingers and wets his dick. Touches her, at least, before he puts his cock against her. Moves into her slow, slow, gentle, slow; a hand behind her head supporting her, cradling her, as he kisses her.

wolfman

[KORREKSHUN APPARENTLY SHE IS STILL WEARING TSHIRT.]

witch

His hands ruck up under her t-shirt, push it upward as he comes down over her. As she kisses him. Their chests touch. She sighs into his mouth. His hands run down, slide under elastic, touch her untouched skin. She breathes in, sharply, surprising herself with the energy of her own eagerness.

She wants this. Wants him. Is so glad: she was going to tell him that she wanted to fuck but was too sleepy. She was going to hope he fucked her anyway. Didn't have to say a word.

Too tired for foreplay. He must think all that is is fingering her pussy and licking her tits. Doesn't seem to realize that his body alone is foreplay. His hands lazily, gradually pushing down her panties is foreplay. Her breaking their kiss for a second to pull that tshirt the rest of the way off is foreplay. The fact that she hasn't noticed the door is open means it's good foreplay.

He knows, when he touches her, that it's good. That she's horny. Wet to the touch; hot. Whimpering softly, breathily, into his mouth as they kiss. As he pushes his cock into her, nice and slow. Makes her clutch at him with her body, hold him between her thighs. Makes her kiss him harder.

wolfman

Wolf laughs a little into that kiss. Soft sort of sound. Maybe the first time he's made a sound, fucking her, that wasn't hungry, savage.

Couple beats of pause. Wolf drawing back, just enough to see her. Blue of her eyes. Parted lips, freckles over her nose. Girl's not wearing makeup today. Rare thing. He likes it. Likes it when she's wearing that crazy raccoon makeup, too. Likes it when she wears nothing and likes it when she wears ripped sweaters, huge boots; likes it when she wears something she bought for god knows how much using the credit card linked to those accounts he's been told are now his.

Just likes her.

Sort of.

Is what it is.

Wolf kisses her again and this time it's a little hungrier. Shifts a little on the bed, moves over her a little more, folds her into his warmth, beneath him, against the small bed. Wolf starts fucking her properly, strokes a little heavier and a little deeper, a little more energetic. Said he was tired and it's true. Still not too tired to give her a good thorough fuck, apparently. Has his hands on her body again. Has his hands on her back, covering almost the span of her skin. Has his hands on her waist and his weight on the backs of his forearms; the muscles in his shoulders tense with strain.

Still slow. Still gentles, if he starts going too hard. Watches her face to see where she is. If she's with him.

witch

There was a time he was startled by her laughter in bed. Surprised by it. Now he chuckles, low and dark and it makes her so wet to hear it. She holds him tighter: in her arms, in her legs, in her pussy. Fucks him back a little, moaning into his mouth, rolling her hips beneath him. Each counter-thrust is an invitation: fuck me. fuck me.

The kiss ends and he draws back; it opens her eyes. Rafael looks at her. She looks back at him, panting softly, her cheeks bearing high, bright spots of pink beneath her eyes. Can't tell what he's thinking. Can only tell the way he kisses her, harder like that, hungrier. Comes down over her and pushes into her more firmly.

His strokes meet little whimpers from those bare lips. Anyone walking by, looking in or not, might hear her and know what he's doing to her. Anyone just a few feet too far wouldn't hear much at all; they'd just hear the waves against the shore, the breeze rustling the trees. Devon hears those things, too. Mostly she hears his breathing. The movement of the bed, the faint thumping of the headboard. She slides her legs up, higher, wraps them around his body, her ankles over that ass she's rather blatantly fond of. Lifts her arms over her head, stretched out while he gives a good, thorough fuck.

Her mouth opens with a happy gasp, a delighted little sound as he gives it to her a certain way, makes her feel just so. She's louder than before.

wolfman

Unambiguously arousing when girl lifts her arms up like that. Maybe because she looks so languid like that. Maybe because she looks so welcoming, so trusting, so accepting. Maybe because there's a certain vulnerability implicit in it; a certain surrender. Lights up something primitive and brutish and protective in the wolf.

Makes him kiss her suddenly, bitingly. Makes him push a hand up her back, grip at her slim shoulder. Sometimes he does this. Grasps at her here and there, fingers pulling at her skin, palms gripping. Like maybe this'll let him keep hold of her. Take hold of her. Take her, keep her in some intrinsic way. Just primal reflexes. The primordial brain and its primordial thoughts.

Girl gets a little louder. Wolf grins a little, crooked and dark. Wolf kisses her again and then wolf has his arms around her, cradling her for that slow deep fuck. Likes it when she wraps her legs up high like that. Likes the look in her eyes, too.

witch

As lazy a fuck as this is, she somehow knows it won't last long. Doesn't need it to. Just wanted him. Has wanted him the last few days, but they've been tired and in the car and sore and they haven't been like this, in some cabin by the Gulf of Mexico. As long as they've known each other it's been cold outside; it's finally warm. It's sunny and warm and she can smell the sea and sand, smell his body, feel her ass against the not-very-high-thread-count sheets, feel his hands cradling her, pulling her tighter, grabbing at her, like he's trying to hold on to something for his life.

"Fuck me, Rafa," she whispers, and bites her lower lip, her brow tugging into a furrow. "Bite me."

wolfman

Gives her such a look when she says that. Complex and aching, brow furrowed in mirror to hers. Equal parts wanting and longing and aversion: doesn't want to hurt her.

Never liked to see her flinch.

Pause in his rhythm, long enough for that shared look, that exchanged regard. Then wolf kisses her, even as she's biting her lower lip. Her mouth opens to his. He kisses her lips, her tongue; scrapes his teeth over her lip in turn. Past her chin and down her neck, then. Bites her there, gently, the gentlest sort of throating one could imagine from the likes of him.

Fixes his teeth in her shoulder. Base of her neck. Soft skin and fragile flesh. Girl's tougher than he thinks, but sometimes frailer than he treats her. There's a delicate balance between what he wants to do and how he can't help but be. Wolf moves over her, massive shoulders, heavy torso. Teeth still gripping her when he starts

fucking her, harder now, like he means it: these pounding, heavy strokes that test the resilience of that flimsy mattress.

witch

Her lip unfurls. Mouth opens like a flower to him. She arches her back, lifting to him as he bites her lip. Panting out a breath as he bites her neck, and bites her shoulder, and starts

really

fucking her.

Devon moans. Someone a few feet away now would not be dissuaded by the waves or the leaves rustling overhead; they would know instantly. What's going on in that cabin. What he's doing. How much she likes it. Even as he starts fucking her in earnest, giving it to her. Faster, now.

Harder.

She wraps her arms around him again. Holds to his back, her forearms laid over his back and her hands spread over his shoulderblades. He isn't reckless, right now. Isn't pounding her erratically, in some frenzy. This is what she wanted: to be close, and to fuck, and to fuck well and good and quickly so they could fall asleep.

Devon's hands move again. She presses one against the headboard. She holds onto his shoulder, arching, chasing down her orgasm against his body with an earnest need in every counter-thrust of her hips. "Come in me," she gasps, through gritted teeth, achingly. "Come inside me." Panting, tightening on him, willing him to come with her, fall apart with her, now.

Now.

wolfman

Doesn't think he's ever heard her say that before. Like that, so naked and bare. Come in me.

Come inside me.

Doesn't think he can bear it. Doesn't think anyone can survive that, those words, a fiery sudden blaze through the synapses. Wolf loses it. Wolf obeys, can't help but obey. Wolf's teeth part, he presses his mouth to her shoulder. Makes this sound, not a growl but something more

vulnerable than that. Low, and raw, and open; half a sound, really, and then a caught silence, his hands clutching hard at her body, his teeth bearing into her skin again.

It's almost vicious. Wolf forgets himself. Wolf forgets his gentleness, which never does come natural anyway. Wolf comes into her, sudden as a thunderclap, biting her, holding her, growling now. Fucking it into her in forceful, hard slaps of his body against hers, thuds of the headboard against the thin wall.

Flakes of plaster shake loose here and there. Such an old flimsy cabin. Such a deserted, secret corner of the world where they bury their lust, their need, their passion.

witch

She's making these noises. Not quite whimpers or gasps or snarls but this mix of the three, blended. They come behind closed lips, open lips, all from her chest, her heart, shivering up her throat. None of them quite have a word to them, or a vowel, anything identifying them. She just makes noises, eager and longing, while Rafael knocks plaster off the wall and fucks his cum into her on that flimsy bed. She's clutching him, clutching the bed itself, crying out as they come together.

It's simple, all told: snuggling in bed, exhausted, and her rubbing herself on him with lazy, thoughtless desire. It wasn't as though she thought very far ahead with that: she was against him, and then found herself moving, and it felt good, so she kept doing it. It felt good, so he rolled her over and told her he was going to fuck her.

Though not in so many words.

She likes this. She likes that they're so tired and she likes that when it comes to being exhausted but still wanting to fuck, they were on the same page. Likes how it is. It's been a while since the last time. She's been sleeping in her own room. At least once or twice they've slept in each other's beds, middle of the night, sneaking in and snuggling up. Feels so lazy like this, out of nowhere, and even that feels right.

They start to come down. And she is laid out, her legs lazy and resting to either side of him now, nuzzling his cheek. Sighing. Sweating a little. Kissing his cheek. Opening her eyes and looking around the room as she feels him gradually soften inside of her.

Her hand is stroking up and down his back, tenderly.

She says:

"Did we fuck with the door open?"

wolfman

Wolf's still panting quietly. Heavy atop her. More often than not he fucks her like this: girl on the bottom, legs around him. Missionary. Boring. Only not. Tiny pause in the rhythm of his breathing; he processes the question.

"Yeah." Moves, then. Lifts up a little, continental, heavy. Rubs his face on her upper chest. Lifts his head and looks over his shoulder. Open door. Open windows. Open air. Open ocean.

"Nobody out there," adds. Lies back down, a little to the side. Covers her side with his hand, like he's measure his handspan against her body. This much land. This much skin. This much of the girl in the palm of his hand; his. "Nobody cares what we do in here but us."

witch

Likes that. Rubbing his face on her tits, nuzzling her neck, all animal and heavy and mindlessly. He looks over his shoulder. Door wide open. Duffels not far from it.

She smirks. "Go close it," she tells him, the words fuzzy at the edges.

wolfman

Wolf smirks back. "With a wet dick and a semi?"

Gets up anyway. Pushes up, leans down, kisses her quick and rough. Gets off the bed, crosses the bare floor of the small room in two or three strides. Takes the door and slams it shut.

More plaster off the ceiling.

Wolf takes a detour to the bathroom, then. Takes a piss, cleans up a bit. Minimally. Splashes some water and wipes off with a wet towel. Comes back still filthy, if we're honest, and climbs onto the bed. Flops down. Pulls the thin covers over his middle again, just like before.

Pulls her against his side. Just like before.

"Wake me up if you get hungry," he says. Shuts his eyes.

witch

Call it vulgar, or low, or crude, but something flares in her eyes when he says that. Her pupils, shrunken again since orgasm, widen a touch. Doesn't have a chance to take a full breath before he's getting up. She breathes in, a touch sharp, when he kisses her like that. Sits up, looking at him, arms braced behind her. She slides her legs out of bed, wobbly more from sleepiness than fucking, though the fucking certainly didn't help.

When he turns around she's on her way into the bathroom before him. Shoots him a smirk, or a grin, some mix of both, before darting in and shutting the door. "All yours," she breezes, coming out again, walking back to bed. Climbing in, whipping those tangled and rumpled sheets back. Doesn't pull any clothes on. Just flops down, covering herself up entirely to the armpits.

Some minutes later he comes back. Gets half-in. She smiles to herself. Feels him scoot closer, feels his arms tug at her, wrap her up, and resists on principle for a second, chuckling. Is tugged and pulled, then, drawn near. He tells her to wake him.

"Shh," Devon tells him. "You'll make me hungry."

Her feet tuck back. Nestle against his calves. Toes get cold. Apparently even in Mexico.

wolfman

Wolf wonders why the hell girl was always sending him to do things when she gets up herself two seconds later. Figures it must be a ruse. A tactic! And now she's claimed the bathroom. Wolf snorts a disgruntled snort as girl and her smirky little smirk disappears behind the closed bathroom door.

No TV in this place. Hell, not even a nightstand, just a little round table that holds a loudly CLACK. CLACK. CLACK-ing plastic clock. One of the sorts with a visible steel alarm bell up top. Wolf's examining it, turning it over in his hands; looks up when the door opens. His pupils open up to her too. No question about this, at least: he's into her physically, primitively, carnally.

All his. Wolf gets up, naked and sure in his nudity. Claps the little clock back onto the little table. Brushes past her with a wordless smirk. Door shuts and water runs and toilet flushes and then he comes back out.

Girl pretends to resist in bed. Wolf pretends to insist. Girl comes close and snuggles up in the end. Wolf's eyes are closed by the time she tucks her toes, but he murmurs fuzzily on the edge of sleep, "Want me to get your socks?"

Doesn't hear the answer. Asleep by then.

--

Dark by the time he wakes and for a minute he doesn't know where he is. Nothing smells familiar. Too warm, too wet, too salty. Cabin's good and aired out and most of that musty smell is gone but he can still smell the age. Thin mattress and thin walls and cracked plaster and old-fashioned alarm clock. Old-fashioned plumbing.

Can't smell the girl. Never could.

Can feel her though, warm and real and not a ghost. Curled up, skinny arms and skinny legs and skinny body and surprisingly nice rack. Shockingly hot cunt. Wolf stops the direction of his thoughts, not because they're low or crude or vulgar but because he's goddamn hungry. They've moved in their sleep. Now they're both on their backs, but one of her legs is slung over his, and his hand wraps over her inner thigh. Something so intimate and familiar about that that in waking it makes him a little uncomfortable. He moves, carefully, extricating himself and swinging his legs off the side of the bed.

Rubs his face for a while. Ocean breathing outside. Wind dies down and it's so quiet, except for that everpresent wash of the waves. Too sandy, too flat for the ocean to boom here. It whispers: shhh. shhh.

Wolf gets up and puts on his pants. Opens the door again. So many stars here. Little town a distant scatter of lights that he can't even see through those straggly coastline pines. Cabin next door has a tenant too now. Their lights are on but he can't see who it is. Wolf fumbles around and flips his own light switch. Now his porch light is on too. His and the girl's.

Wolf leaves the door ajar as he comes back. Sits on her side of the bed and she's waking by then, has to be, he's not a quiet wolf. He's big and heavy and thumps around, has lived alone so long he has little idea of how to coexist with someone else. Even if that someone else has been coexisting with him, more or less in peace, for the last few weeks. Months now, isn't it?

He's looking at her. Dark and she can't really see his face, but then he puts his hand on hers and it's such a gentle touch, poignant. He touches her lips and he touches her cheeks. Tip of his finger traces the shell of her ear. He leans down to kiss her, then stays close.

"Wanna go back to town, get some food?"