That Bridge

“Hmm?” I felt the sound rumble against my side and my thighs clenched. “What is it, habibi?”

I didn’t look at him. It hurt sometimes. I wasn’t sure why, but looking at Bane after sex was like looking at a lion relaxing while being a gazelle. It was unnerving. I was totally naked and defenseless during sex, and I think Bane was too, but that animal part of him was still there. Possessiveness wasn’t just a trait for him, it was him. If pissing on me would get his scent all over me better than screwing my brains out, I had no doubt he’d do it. “What do I smell like now? I mean, with everything that has happened do I smell, like, different?”

He readjusted in the bed, turned and looked at me. I still couldn’t meet his eyes. “You smell sharper, like the wind right after a rainstorm perfumed by a forest filled to the brim with life. You smell like I think Eden would smell like. Not one thing but a combination of the most delicious things that make up this world, all living plants and animals.”

Damn, that was… Wow. I finally looked at him, dark brown eyes with red bleeding into them. He was hungry. I smirked. He’d used too much energy.

“Is that a bad thing?” I had this irrational fear that with every new talent or thing that popped up, someone was going to discover what I was and it wasn’t going to be something that I wanted to be. It didn’t make sense to me that no one had heard of an acid spitting, purple-haired creature before. And what if I was the last of whatever I was? Why had I been hunted or killed? Did I have something inside me that was in high demand, or was it that I was evil?

Bane rolled on top of me and braced his arms on either side of my head. “You’re not evil.” His smiled was crooked, “You might be brass and ballsy, a little inept at times, and have a very short attention span, but you are not bad.”

I ignored the inept part and all the other bad stuff he said about me, because I heard the end sentence that he didn’t say. And even with all of that, I love you. The words were in Bane’s mind, flowing out to me from his thoughts.

“I love you, too.” I did. Simple as that.

His face cleared, and shadows I hadn’t even noticed lifted. Had Bane been worried? It should’ve been the other way around. The man looked like Adonis, fucked like a champion, was richer than Midas, and was a king. I’d say he got the wrong end of the stick.

“Don’t put yourself down,” he growled.

I looked up, shrugged, spread my thighs and hooked my legs over my husband’s hips. “It's not the bad end of the stick, just not the right one. I’m still a mystery, right? Still a coin flipping in the air we’re all just waiting to fall.”

Bane looked at me hard for a second as I tilted my hips and rubbed myself against his erection. Sure I was sore, and would likely be bow-legged in the morning, but I didn’t care. I wanted him. Always. It was different than the romance novels, though. Birds didn’t sing, and it wasn’t like every single button he removed sent me into an orgasm, but there was an addictive quality to it all. It was like every orgasm he gave me, every one I gave him, only proved that we were great together, only made me want him more and vice versa. It was like I came, but a second later I needed to come again or I’d forget. It was weird.

“It’s more than that,” Bane grunted as he slid into me.

I arched, kitty-cat claws raking across his shoulders and back. The man had a magical dick, the kind of thing the Greeks and Romans built statues of and wrote poems and stuff about. And man, did he know how to use it.

“What?” My eyes crossed, and I was pretty sure this was not the time to have a conversation. Hot, sweaty, raspy voiced, and speaking-in-tongue sex yes. Hell yes!

“It’s not weird, and it’s more than an addiction.” He held up my hips with one hand as he thrust into me, alternating between slow, nail-biting digs and sheet-shredding, bloody murder screaming thrusts. “I lose a part of myself I didn’t even realize I had when I’m not in you.”

Yes. That was it. It was that connection, that joining I’d felt when I’d first had sex with Bane. Damn, but the man knew what I was trying to say before I did. Always in my head.

My thoughts were starting to fragment and come out as a jumble. But I knew he was right. Bane was always right. Well, that was debatable, but about this he was indisputable. I lost a part of myself when he wasn’t with me, and I gained it back when he was. It was that constant give and take, that ebb and flow.

I lost my train of thought as he slammed his hips into mine and came. God, he came hard! Nails digging into my hips, fangs at my neck or my breasts or my hips. Where were they now? I shuddered, a second behind him, eyelids blocking out everything. There he was. Inside of my wrist, tongue on my pulse, teeth under my skin.

I moaned and came harder. I loved him. He loved me. And every time we made love, and had sex, and fucked like rabbits at the peak of mating season, we were trying to find that other piece, trying to become one thing. Sure, we got close, but we never did get there. That was the beauty and horror of it all, we’d never get to have the thing we wanted the most, but we’d keep trying again and again and again.

Okay, so that was a small snippet from my book, Wait, I'm a Zombie?. In that scene I was trying to convey my characters angst while solidifying the character's relationship. Based on that piece, how long do you think the main characters have been together? Two years? Two months? How about a few days, less than two weeks. The thing about stories are that events can happen quickly, all in one day in fact, but it's the process, how everyone grows and changes, that makes a plot gold. 

Take the Divergent series for instance. How the main character was in a shell at first, suffocated by a culture around her that didn't understand how she wanted to be, and then she broke out of it. She forced herself to change and embrace that change until she wasn't the same person she'd been at the beginning, and neither is the reader. Almost every single romance, urban fiction, teen fiction, and so on will follow this pattern. Start off with a character that is a little average, relatable, and then slowly or rapidly they change doing things that you could possibly see yourself doing for the right or wrong reasons because at the end of the day we sort of become the characters we read about. We walk out of superhero movies thinking we can take on the world, horror movies as if there are monsters in every shadow, and romance movies as if love is write around the corner. 

For this prompt, write a transitional sex scene that preforms a purpose for your plot. No more than 1,00 words. Remember to either post it in a comment or send it to me directly.