by Claire Kent
More intense.
My throat has closed up, and my eyes are burning when he gives a long, low groan and collapses on top of me.
He doesn’t normally do that. He usually lies beside me. But he falls down over me this time, and I wrap my arms around him. His come is smeared between our bellies now, but neither of us seem to care.
He pants against the crook of my neck. His body is hot and heavy.
It’s a couple of minutes before he lifts his head to look down at my face. “Y’okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good. Really good.”
“I wasn’t too rough, was I?”
“No. Just the right amount of rough.”
“You told me to stop.”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t because you were too rough. That was because if I came anymore, I might have just fainted dead away.”
He chuckles, his features relaxing. “That’s okay then.”
“Yes. It’s better than okay.”
“You’d tell me if I’s too rough, right?”
My heart twists at the hesitant question in his eyes. “Yes. I’d tell you, Travis. I was the one who was asking for it rough. If I recall, I was begging for it.”
“Yeah. Guess so. Just makin’ sure. Wanna make sure I’m treatin’ you right.”
I reach up to stroke his face with both hands. “Travis, you are treating me right. You always treat me right. I’ve never met anyone who’s treated me better.”
“Good.” He pauses. Then mumbles, “Same here.”
I give him a wobbly smile at that as he lowers his face toward mine. My heart skips in that way it always does when I think he might kiss me, but he doesn’t.
He nuzzles my throat instead, pressing a soft kiss against my pulse point.
It feels unexpectedly tender, and I twine my arms around him in a hug.
His body is softer now. Not quite as blazingly hot.
We lie tangled up together for a few more minutes until I ask, “You didn’t hurt your ankle with all this activity, did you?”
“Nope. It’s just fine.” He exhales deeply. I can feel the breath go out of him.
I swallow. My hands were lightly stroking his back, but they grow still. “Yeah.”
“Guess we should leave tomorrow.”
My stomach churns even though I know it’s the right thing. It’s what we have to do. Maybe human nature has reverted to people being out for themselves in the need for survival, but staying here when everyone we know is in danger is simply too selfish for me to tolerate. “Y-yeah.”
He lifts his head and meets my eyes. “Gotta go eventually. Our people need us.”
He doesn’t say it, but I know he’s thinking of Cheryl.
His ties to her will always be stronger than his ties to me. For good reasons. He’s known and loved her for years.
Travis is my traveling companion and temporary sex partner, but I’m not fool enough to expect anything else.
I might be young, but I’m not stupid.
The place this world has become can only ever hurt you. And eventually you lose the people you love.
I try to smile again. “It’s been nice here—to have this time to rest—but it’s time to go now.”
Something shifts in Travis’s expression. Something I can’t name. “Yeah. Time to go.”
FOR DINNER THAT NIGHT, I make red beans and rice. I slice and grill some canned sausages to go in it. I wasn’t sure about those sausages since meat in a can is hit-or-miss, but they’re actually pretty tasty with the beans and rice, and Travis says how much he likes it several times as he eats.
The dog likes it too. He gets a few pieces of sausage.
After we clean up, I let the dog out and sit on the back step while he runs into the woods. The evening feels pleasant. The air isn’t very thick or overly hot.
There’s one spot through the trees that I can see the sunset.
Travis comes out to join me with the rest of his bottle of beer, sitting beside me without speaking. He rests his forearms on his thighs, leaning forward slightly to see the sun setting in the sky.
I wonder if he feels kind of heavy and poignant like I do.
I’ve really liked this place, and we have to leave it tomorrow.
“Gonna be purple,” Travis says after a few minutes of silence.
I glance over and see his eyes focused on the sky.
He’s right. Sunsets have been weird since impact. The haze in the sky changes the look of them, the color. For a while there was no color at all. Nothing but dim grayness. But the color has been back for the past year or so, not as vivid as they used to be and usually with one color predominating.
Tonight the color is a dusky violet.
We watch as the pale bluish sky transforms to purple, with an edge of light orange just around the orb of the sun. The surrounding mountains and trees block the lowest part of the descent, but it’s still a real sunset.
It’s lovely. And strangely sad. To watch the last light of day bleed into purple. To witness the sun’s hazy brightness slowly dying as it sinks toward the horizon.
Leaving us in darkness.
But only after one final spectacle. The sun’s last word to the world. Unmistakable proof of its identity—its existence—even as it disappears.
After a few minutes, the tightness of my chest and throat become painful. I reach out and find Travis’s hand on the step between us.
He twines his fingers with mine and squeezes gently. We hold hands until the sun dips below the trees.
When the sun rises again, everything will be different.
This intimate respite will be over.
We’ll have to enter a battered world again.
It’s getting dark when the dog returns from the woods. He trots over and snuffles at Travis before he moves to me and tries to squeeze between my legs so he can get his nose up to my face.
I make room for him, sliding my palms up and down his soft back. We were able to give him a real bath yesterday, so he’s clean now. His cuts are healing.
The tightness in my throat threatens to strangle me as I let the animal nuzzle me. He’s got a warm body. A cool, wet nose. And doggy breath.
He’s attached himself to us. He loves us now.
He thinks we’re his people.
I make a little sound in my throat as I try to control rising emotion.
“I’m so sorry, Layne.” Travis reaches over to scratch the dog’s neck.
He doesn’t say so, but he doesn’t think the dog should come with us. I know all the reasons he’d give me, and all of them are good.
People don’t have pets anymore. Not in this world. Food has to be used to feed people.
Not dogs.
And the dog would be put in danger over and over again on the road with us.
Four years ago, I never would have understood such a decision, but I understand it now.
Desperation changes people. It takes away a lot of what’s good about the world.
I swallow hard and have to swallow again before I can speak. I hadn’t known for sure, but I shouldn’t have hoped for anything else. “I know.” I bury my face against the dog’s neck and shake a few times, but I’m composed when I straighten up.
There aren’t any tears.
“He’s going to wait for us to come back,” I say hoarsely as I drop my hands and stand up.
Travis stands up too. Says with a rasp, “I know he will.”
“We shouldn’t have taken care of him at all if we have to leave him.”
“I know that too.”
My throat aches like a wound as I let the dog inside and follow him. As usual, he curls up in his spot in front of the woodstove—it doesn’t seem to matter to him whether a fire is burning or not.
Travis turned on the water heater in the bathroom before he came outside, so I take one last hot shower, washing and conditioning my hair. I fill up the water heater and turn it on again before I leave the bathroom so Travis can have a shower too.
; I comb and braid my hair and climb under the covers on my side of the bed—near the wall—and wait for Travis to join me.
He comes to bed about twenty minutes later.
I scoot over toward him as soon as he gets under the covers, and he rolls me over so he’s between my legs. He kisses my jaw. The pulse in my throat. He slowly unbuttons the oversized shirt I’ve been sleeping in and kisses the skin he reveals.
We normally talk to each other as we have sex, but neither one of us says anything tonight. I still have that lump in my throat, so I’m not sure I’d be capable of speaking anyway.
It doesn’t feel like we need to.
I pull my arms out of my shirt as he suckles at my breasts, and I drag my fingers up his back, from his ass to his shoulder blades. Then I tangle my fingers into his thick, damp hair, gasping when he tugs gently on my nipple with his teeth.
Eventually he kisses his way back up to my neck, sucking on my pulse point. It’s throbbing now. Emotion is stronger inside me than physical arousal, but both of them are filling me, consuming me.
He pulls one of my thighs up so my leg is wrapped around his hips. He’s wearing nothing but his underwear, and he’s hard. Ready already.
He doesn’t feel hot and urgent tonight though.
He feels quiet and needy, like I do.
Deep.
He trails his lips up to my jaw and traces the line of it. He flicks his tongue into the dimple in my chin. He breathes against the skin just to the side of my mouth, and it’s all I can do not to arch my neck and press my mouth against his.
I whimper softly as I tug on his hair.
He ducks his head with a muffled groan and kisses my throat again.
I’m rocking against his weight now, and my hands move down to his butt, sliding under his underwear so I can feel the firm, warm flesh.
He grunts against my skin. Lifts up to yank down his boxer briefs. Settles between my legs and uses his hand to position himself.
Then he’s pushing into me. I wrap my legs around him, hooking my ankles to hold them in place.
I’m wet and pliant but kind of sore from our enthusiasm earlier. I don’t feel like I need to come. I just want to feel him, hold him like this.
Know that he’s with me.
He rocks his hips, sliding his erection inside me. It’s mostly just little pushes, never pulling out very far. He sometimes kisses my neck. Sometimes stares down at me in the dark, breathing against my skin.
“Do you need more’n this?” he asks after a few minutes.
I’m moving my hips to his rhythm. Holding on to his thigh with one hand and his bicep with the other. “No. I’m good. Just like this.”
“Think you can come?”
“Don’t know.” I take a shaky breath, my throat aching again. “But I like this. Just keep doing this.”
“’Kay.” He pumps his hips. Leans forward to rub his jaw against my cheek. His bristles are scratchy. Comforting. “Y’okay?”
“Yeah. Just keep doing this.” My hand has moved on his thigh, and my fingers are now nudging at the bottom of the crease in his ass. The location is accidental. It feels intimate. Natural. I don’t move my hand.
It goes on a long time, and it feels like I need all of it. Like the moment Travis comes, everything good will be over.
Even though I know the feeling is irrational, I do nothing to push him into urgency.
He’s patient.
He’s always given me what I need.
He gives me what I need right now.
My body is feeling good, but it’s not building toward climax. Eventually, however, I feel the tension in Travis’s body start to change. He’s getting hotter. His rhythm isn’t quite so steady.
I need to give him what he needs too.
I dig my fingers into his ass. He grunts and jerks his hips. “Oh, fuck, darlin’.”
“You come now.” I squeeze him with my legs and my inner muscles, making him grunt again. “I want you to come.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m ready. I want you to come.”
His heavy breathing intensifies into loud huffs as his hips pump. After a minute, he pants, “Layne. Fuck. Layne.”
His body tightens until I think it might crack. He pushes into me hard.
At the very last moment, he gasps and levers his hips to pull out of me. He comes in forceful spurts on my hip.
He barely pulled out in time. He usually does it sooner.
I pull him down on top of me afterward. I hold him tight as his body relaxes.
Mine relaxes too, although the ache in my throat remains.
He gets up to clean us up, and eventually I find the energy to go to the bathroom.
I check on the dog. He’s sprawled out on his side on the little rug in the living room, snoring loudly.
Then I go back to bed and climb over Travis to get to my side.
He pulls me against him, and I fall asleep in the embrace of his arm.
I’m still there when I wake up the next morning.
WE’RE QUIET—LIKE WE used to be in the mornings—as we get dressed, eat breakfast, and pack up the Jeep. We take as much of the food and supplies as we can fit in the cargo compartment and fill up all our bottles with water from the well.
The dog eats his bowl of food, goes out to do his business, and then follows us as we pack, his tongue hanging out as he watches the proceedings, and his tail occasionally gives a hesitant wag as if he’s hoping to be excited but not sure he’s allowed.
I can barely stand to look at him.
When we’re packed and Travis is giving the house one final walkthrough to make sure there’s nothing else we need to bring, I give the dog a quick, hard hug, bury my face in his fur for a minute, and then let him go. I climb into the passenger seat of the car.
I’m not going to cry.
It’s a dog. We haven’t even named him. We knew we’d have to leave him.
I sit in my seat and pray that Travis will return soon so we can get out of here before I start bawling.
Travis is still in the house, and the dog is sitting next to the vehicle, staring up at me expectantly.
When I don’t move, the dog walks over and puts his front paws up on the floor of the passenger side. I think he’s just lifting himself up for a pet, so I reach down and stroke his head, his ears.
He wags a few times and hops right into the Jeep with me.
I make a muffled whimper as he climbs over my feet. There’s a pile of folded towels and a blanket next to my feet since that’s the only place we could fit them, and the dog flops down right on top of them.
He pants up at me happily, looking very pleased with himself.
I sit stiffly, almost shaking with emotion.
I can’t push the dog out.
I simply can’t.
I really don’t think I’m capable of it.
It’s another minute before Travis comes out, wearing his jeans and the black T-shirt we found at that empty house. He checks to make sure the door is locked—we’ve already decided to take the key with us in case we need to return for supplies sometime in the future—and then heads for the Jeep.
“Dog must’ve run off,” he says as he approaches. “Can’t find him. Wanted to say goodb—” He breaks off as he slides into the driver’s side and sees the dog on top of the towels.
He grows still, staring down at the dog’s lolling tongue and barely wagging tail.
His silence goes on so long I shift in my seat. “I didn’t put him here. He got up on his own.”
Travis takes a deep breath, his eyes moving from the dog to my face.
I don’t move a muscle. I feel a tear beading beneath my left eye and finally have to brush it away with my fingertips before it falls.
Travis’s mouth twists. “Damn it. Damn it all. He’s gonna have to sit right there. No other place for him. I’ll go get some dog food.”
I make a little sobbing sound as a couple more tears squeeze out. I pet the dog as T
ravis goes back into the house and returns with a bag of dog food.
“This is all we can bring, so the dog’ll have to be on rations too.” He leans over to squeeze the bag in next to the pile of towels. “And you’re not gonna have much foot room.”
“I don’t care.” I scratch the dog’s ears as he sniffs at the dog food and gives a more confident wag. He seems to know that the bag of dog food means he’s definitely coming with us.
Travis shakes his head at the dog but reaches over to give him a quick pet. “Damn it, dog. You and her both.”
“Him and me what?” I asked, intrigued by the vague statement.
He shakes his head at me the way he did at the dog. “You and him both. Gonna ruin me.”
I swipe away one more stray tear. “We don’t mean to ruin you.”
“I know you don’t. Just makes it worse.” He murmurs the words, almost as if he’s talking to himself. He’s looking out onto the sloping dirt drive.
I’m not sure exactly what he means, but it doesn’t seem like a bad thing. His tone and expression are fond.
I figure I’ll take it.
THE DAY IS LONG AND uncomfortable.
It really is a tight squeeze with me and the dog on the passenger side. I’m not about to complain, of course, but I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be on the road all day. To always be on the lookout for danger. To constantly search for gas. To rumble over old mountain trails because the roads are too big a risk.
In the middle of the day, we find an old country road. It’s narrow, but it’s paved and is going in the right direction, so we figure we’ll give it a try. We make some decent progress for almost an hour, but then it runs into a small occupied township.
They’re nice enough when we approach to talk to the guards, but they won’t let us through.
So we spend another hour trying to find a route through the woods. When it gets dark, we have to camp for the night.
Travis is quiet, withdrawn. He doesn’t chat as we make a small fire and warm up soup.
I knew it would be like this once we got back on the road.
Travis was relaxed at the house. He isn’t now. He’s not going to tease me or hold me or let go with me anymore. He’s not even going to have sex with me. Not when we’re out in the open like this.