Come Home To Me

She giggled, poking him in the chest. "Silly! You brought napkins, didn't you?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then we'll use our fingers! Forget manners. It's just the two of us here, right? Who needs forks?"

He perked up, giving an approving nod. "Ha! I guess you're right. Be a little messy though, and our mums would have a fit!"

She snorted. "Let them." To prove her point, she dipped two fingers in, spooning out some of the mush and popping it into her mouth. The harmonious essence of potato, egg and mayonnaise wafted through her senses.

He shook his head with a laugh, tossing a napkin at her and then setting a sandwich on a plate for each of them, before digging in himself. There was no reason for it to be so funny, but it was. Purely ridiculous, trying to juggle potato clumps without spilling any on their clothes. They must have looked to any passer-by like two mischievous children with a bag of candy, giggling and alternating fingerfuls with each other.

They enjoyed their meal through a hazy veil of idle chit-chat, not really discussing anything in particular, simply delighting in one another's company. She wanted to somehow capture this moment. Hold it in a box forever and ever, opening the lid from time to time to release its light and joy and simplicity upon the world.

Time didn't matter, strolling along with a lazy gait, as the moment shifted from eating to relaxation. A few stray ants marched determinedly along the woven desert of wool, seeking any remaining crumbs to make their trek worthwhile. Several of them took great joy in the discovery of the potato salad stained napkins, making their best efforts to cart the entire load off.

She lay back on the blanket, arguing good-naturedly about the forms in the sky. A lorry, really! It was quite clearly some great lizard of unknown temper, either roaring its rage or yawning in relaxation. The boy needed to stretch his imagination more.

They lapsed into satisfied silence once more, her thoughts shifting and swirling like the clouds. She sat up on her elbow, propping her head up and simply looking at him.

He turned towards her, a question in his eyes. "Do I have potato salad on my muzzle still?"

She shook her head. "Mmm, no, just thinking."

"About what?"

"You. Me. Us."

The skin of his nose darkened slightly. A blush? "Us? What exactly to you mean?"

She smiled reassuringly. "I think you know what I mean."

"Y-you mean, the future, us?"

Those eyes... She just wanted to dive right in, immerse herself in those mahogany depths. "I don't know, you tell me." Teasing was the last thing on her mind now. She simply wanted him to say it out loud.

His cheeks puffed out as he let out a long sigh, his expression shifting, an oily slick of troubled insecurity spreading across those beautiful pools. He sat up, folding his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground. "I... I really don't know, Rachel." He looked back at her, his pained look making her heart skip a beat. What was he-

"I..." He trailed off again for a moment, and in that brief pause, her entire world teetered on the brink of falling, an endless fall into a dark, frightening abyss. Did he not feel the same way? Was this all a glorious, but passing, dream?

He seemed to finally collect his thoughts, determination suddenly filling his expression. "I-I really like you, Rachel. A lot. I do. I just... don't know what's going to happen." For some reason, he couldn't meet her eyes, but the words made the abyss recede, though it still lurked at the edge of her consciousness. He wasn't done yet.

"I mean, I'll be done school soon, and... And dad really wants me to go into the service." He picked at one of his shoelaces, a frown crossing his muzzle.

She blinked, unsure of how to respond. No... Not him too. She couldn't even remember her father's face. The war had taken him before she was old enough to understand the loss. The thought of Hector joining too... "What... What about you? You don't want to do that... Do you?"

He shook his head, slowly. "Cripes no Rachel. The thought of training and working and training more, just to learn how to kill people..." He shuddered, meeting her eyes finally, emotions swirling in his countenance. "But, dad's really pushing it. And, what if there's another war? The world is changing. I-I don't want to do it, but I might have to."

An icy finger stroked her heart. "It doesn't matter. This world, right here, right now, doesn't have to change! It doesn't. You don't have to!" Her lower lip quivered, a watery veil obscuring her vision. No... not him too. "You can't do it Hector, please! Hector... I-I love you!" There, she'd said it. She pressed onward, words tumbling from her lips, trying desperately to swat that clammy hand of fear from her chest. "Please, promise me you won't. Promise!"

His hand trembled on his knee, his eyes locked with hers. "Oh god... Rachel, I-I... Do you mean that?"

She nodded, a tear breaking free of its prison to escape down her cheek. "Promise me, right now. Promise me you won't leave."

He seemed to be struggling to not to lose the battle with his own emotions. Hesitantly, he stretched a hand out, gripping her shoulder. "Rachel... I love you too. No matter what idiots like Danny may say, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I've always known that, and I h-hoped you'd..." He trailed off, struggling for words. Once again, there was not the slightest of falsehood.

When had the distance between them lessened? She didn't know which one of them had leaned forward, but suddenly their breath was intermingling, the depths of his eyes calling to her, welcoming her in. Her heart soared on wings of light, his admission of his feelings the wind that bore her forth. "Promise."

He drew a shaky breath. "I-I promise. Somehow, I'll find a way." A slow smile spread across his muzzle. "M-maybe I'll... I dunno, join the fire service or something. Help save lives instead of end them. Maybe that'll be enough for dad, and if there's another war, I won't have to go."

She couldn't speak. Seconds later, she didn't have to. Which of them had moved? It didn't matter. The aroma of his cologne strengthened, sharp and spicy. His heart beat against hers, her hands exploring the taut muscle of his back and shoulders.

She closed her eyes, letting out a sigh as he kissed her, her strength seeping away. He held her up, his mighty arms wrapping about her, holding her close as their tongues danced a lover's minuet. His lips were so soft...

She breathed heavily as they separated, the barest of inches between their noses, the flavour of his kiss lingering like an enchantment on her senses. "Thank you, Hector," she murmured, clinging to him tightly, never wanting to let go.

"Rachel..." The way he whispered her name made it sound like a precious gem.

Perfect.

____

How long had it been? How long had he been gone? Every moment seemed to ooze by, like molasses collecting ever so slowly onto a spoon. His smile, his voice, his touch... she could almost-

With a hissing exhalation, the radio died. Her one friend in the night, giving up the ghost with a sigh of static. An eerie hush, pierced only by the continuing wail of the siren, crashed down around her. How many did that siren mourn tonight?

Some abstract portion of her mind still formed a rational thought, cutting through her paralysis. 'Power lines. They hit the power lines.'

Silence. Dark. Cold.

She huddled beneath her protection, which now seemed incredibly flimsy. Wetness dropped steadily to the frozen skin of her hand, the knuckles surely white on the cloth. Why couldn't she feel herself crying?

"Hector, my sweet Hector... P-please..." she sobbed out loud, hoping,pleadingfor the horrible stillness to be broken by his voice.

It wasn't.

The silence loomed even more menacingly, teaming up with the blackness to surround her, like taunting demons rising from the depths. Dank, oily fingers plucked at her heartstrings. Wherewashe? Why hadn't he come back yet? When would this end?

She felt like she had taken root, every muscle stiff and tense. Her knee continued to pulse its warning, a tiny beacon of sharper discomfort. She felt incredibly small, infinitesimal even. One woman, adrift in a sea of blackness, death falling from the sky.

"My love..." The sound of her own whispered words was hollow, and did little to chase the quiet tormentors back into their pit.

"Despair, weep, die,"the siren seemed to call, over and over. Her whole body shook, racking sobs shuddering forth to pile in the corners, the sounds falling dead to the floor before they could break the chokehold of the oppressive gloom.

She couldn't leave. She couldn't flee the demons in the dark. Everything within her wanted to run. Everything within her screamed at her to stay.

'Hector...'

____

She laughed, her legs kicking uselessly as he carted her up the stairs, the long hem of her gown trailing behind her, almost tripping him. "Hector! I CAN walk you know." Not that she really WANTED him to put her down, but she couldn't let him think that!

His bass chuckle shook through her as he clutched her even more tightly, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Of course you can, but it's tradition after all!"

She couldn't stop giggling, carelessly tossing aside her veil, the filmy thing rolling down the stairs behind them as they reached the top landing. "Oh, you're so old fashioned!" She squeezed his shoulder, her hand starting to roam as they progressed steadily towards the bedroom.

"As if you mind."

"Mmm, perhaps, my dear, perhaps."

His laugh was so rich and pure, an absolute expression of his joy. This whole night, everything, seemed to be represented in that laugh. Oh, how glorious their ceremony had been! Who needed large receptions?

'And now...'

Indescribable emotion coursed through her. She felt like some impish troublemaker had run off with her rational mind. Giddiness ruled her. The two of them, right now. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.

She reached up, grabbing onto his tusks and dragging his head down for a long kiss. He didn't resist, and his unique flavour filled her senses, energy charged fireworks of euphoria putting on a grand display inside her mind. When he wrapped her tongue with his like that...

Gently as if she were made of glass, he laid her on the bed. His jacket sailed through the air to land, somehow quite neatly, on the chair in the corner, the air billowing out of it with a sigh. She had already lost her shoes, and was reaching behind herself, struggling with the ties on her gown. They had waited so long for this, and now it was here.

He was breathing as heavily as she was, pushing her hands away and pulling her into another deep kiss. Her hands fluttered, stroking and caressing him, working at the buttons of his shirt, scrabbling at the buckle of his belt. Short, dark, bristly fur came into view, swelling and rolling over sculpted chest muscles. His training had done well to enhance his already impressive form.

His fingers walked across her back, steadily loosing her from the confines of her gown. She shuddered into the kiss, his fingernail sending tingles down her spine as it drew a circle on her pale skin.

One of his buttons ripped loose, eliciting a giggled apology. He responded by tearing the rest of them away, the tiny fasteners springing to freedom in all directions, the shirt joining them seconds later.

His fingernails again, sliding sensuously up her leg, tickling the inside of her thigh.

Her gown couldn't come off fast enough. His trousers didn't survive much longer.

"My beautiful, gorgeous Rachel..."

"Mmm, come closer and say that, you handsome boar."

They pressed against each other, greedily revelling in the sight and feel of each other's bodies. Stubbly hair prickled smooth skin. Pools of hazel stared into her own cloudy grey. A hint of sweat, of spicy cologne, of clean skin,hissmell, wafted over her.

She couldn't stop her hands from questing lower, finding that special place, that place that would join them together. Warm, pulsing flesh met her touch. She reached lower still, gasping at the shivery sensation of fingertips sliding down her back, then continuing over her breast, along her stomach, across her bottom and thighs. Heavy orbs rolled under her fingers, warmth surrounding her hand as she examined their fullness. She cupped them gently, her breath coming in a gasp as he nibbled the soft flesh of her neck, mindful of his tusks.

She wasn't ashamed to bare her body to him. He delighted in it, caressing and loving every inch, every nook and cranny. She inhaled sharply, feeling his hands mirroring hers. Their lips sealed tightly together once more as he rolled on top of her, wrapping her up in the safety of his embrace.

His eyes asked the final question without words. She didn't even have to think about it. She had given him permission years before. She nodded, clutching and massaging his lower back, straddling the precipice of their union.

Pain, hot and sharp, made her bite her lip, stifling her gasp. He halted immediately, whispering gentle apologies and reassurances, soothing the flash of discomfort away with a kiss and a tender massage.

They were one, irrevocably, forever. She could feelhim, feel his heart beat in time with hers. Feel the intimate bond between them, forged through so much more than their recent matrimony. Feel the pain giving way to pleasure, several inches of heated, firm flesh embedded inside her most sacred place.

Her murmured encouragement urged him on, bringing a moment of disappointing emptiness as he pulled away, only to replaced by another surge of warm fulfilment. More this time, deeper. Her gasp now bore no discomfort, only a rising desire.

His body blanketed hers, covering her in safety and security. He fit so perfectly, so smoothly inside, like their bodies had been tailor made for each other. This rising bliss... It seemed impossible for anything to feel like this. She wanted more.

There was more.

In slow, steady tandem, they met and parted, hiding nothing, sharing all. Every push opened a new world of delight, every withdrawal remaking that world into something better. She felt completely helpless, yet had never felt so secure.

Higher and higher they rode the wave of ecstasy, each smooth meeting of their loins punctuated by moaning words of encouragement from her, and grunted professions of passion from him. A trickle of sweat rolled down her spine, wiped away by his massaging hand. They kissed again, silencing their breathy murmurings with the intimate caress.

Her entire existence seemed to rest on tenterhooks, an inch from the edge of a long dive into the ocean of rapture, seconds away from the release of the rising tension. So close, so close...

It almost surprised her when it came, her back arching, a cry emitting from her lungs, her legs tightening around him. She could feel him speeding up, somehow, carrying her along as her senses were overwhelmed, his heavy breaths and gritted teeth signifying his own imminent climax. Her thighs felt wet, sticky with her own pleasure.

Like a fountain of gold, his essence filled her. She could feel the warmth, the thick, heavy streams pouring into her womb, a comfortable weight, a promise. More and more, until he had none left to give. They collapsed to the messy sheets, panting and clutching one another, remaining locked as tightly as possible. Her belly felt deliciously full, rounded with the gift he had given her.

He was hers, and she was his. Forever.

____

Her existence shattered. There was noise, crashing, ripping tearing, the loudest sound she had ever heard, deafening her. Heat, light, coming from somewhere, something. She was blind, deaf, paralysed.

A large crash, something falling right in front of her, would have made her leap to her feet. She couldn't, she was too stiff, too cold. Choking dust filled her lungs, her shuddering coughs inaudible through the overwhelming din. Somehow, that first, massive wall of undiluted sound had only been a half second ago.

It was the end of the world.

Pain blossomed, something large and sharp cracking against the back of her skull. Vaguely, she felt herself falling, meeting the gritty, cold floor. The world was gone.

____

His feet hurt from running, thick boots pounding across the pavement. His lungs burned, both from the residues of smoke and his frantic sprint. His shirt hung limply under his jacket, drenched and clinging to his heaving chest. He didn't stop, didn't slow, eyes surely wild with his fear.

'No, no, no...'

That last explosion, it was a final, jeering insult as the attackers turned tail. It had been exactly the right distance away, exactly the right direction. The dying flames had ceased to be important. There had been no time to wait for the others, no time to do anything but run.

There was the corner. Ten strides away. Now five. Now two. He rounded it like he himself were on fire, moving as fast as his bulk would allow.

It felt like he had run into a wall. The sight his eyes presented him slammed into his gut, doubling him over and dropping him to his knees. Not a direct hit, but close enough. No leaping flames, but there didn't need to be. His entire life lay scattered about the street, some resting in the crater the bomb had made, some piled against the flats on either side, both of which had far less damage.

'No, it can't be, no...'

Stumbling to his feet, pushing through the invisible wall, he staggered toward the wreckage, a wail ripping from his throat that filled the place of the now absent siren.

'Oh god, oh god, oh god...'

He scrambled over whatever lay in his path, jagged wood tearing at him, shattered brick and stone bruising him, shards of glass drawing red lines in exposed skin. The door to the icebox lay open, contents strewn out like the aftermath of an infantry battle.

"Rachel!" The shout was hoarse, insufficient. Where? Where? Where?

He tore at the obstacles in his path, ignoring the cuts that sharp corners and exposed nails opened in his hands. Beams shifted with Herculean effort, rubble shoved aside with the force of desperation.

Something shifted loose. The radio, its casing cracked, the speaker pierced by a spear of wood.

'No, no...'

"Rachel!"

He froze, the chunk of ceiling debris he had just tossed aside landing unceremoniously with a thump and a cloud of dust. A hand, sticking out from beneath a large piece of plaster.

He had no words, only action. Taking only enough care to ensure more would not fall in its place, he hurled the mess away, terror lending him the might of ten men. There. Wrapped in a blanket, clad only in her nightwear and housecoat. His love.

He felt dead, listless. His hands shook as he took hold, hoisting her gently away from this place of destruction. Why was her skin so cold? Her eyes... they didn't so much as flutter. He couldn't even smell her, dust and grit clogging his nostrils. A trail of crimson marred her pale brow, a stream of precious life, pouring out onto the heartless ground. She hung from his grip limply, her head lolling to the side, before he clutched her to his chest.

'No, no, no, oh god, please, Rachel!'

He rocked back and forth, tears dropping to her chest as he kissed her brow, smoothing back the dust covered hair. No, it wasn't real, it couldn't be real.

It was.

His eyes squeezed shut as he pressed his ear to her chest, hoping, pleading for life.

Nothing.

Silence.

He wanted to scream, to rage at the sky, to harness the sun and turn it back, relive this entire day differently. The world was dead to him. Nothing mattered anymore. She was gone.