The night was long and hot, and they wrung it dry.

They never used to go to bed mad, the bed was sacrosanct, but tonight the the heat was too hot in both the air and their words. Their hallowed space was now tainted. Both stewed, hypersensitive and aloof, sweating into the sheets they’d made love on just that very morning, the sheets they came and wept on. Too angry and hot to touch, they held their ground, slowly exhausting themselves.

After hours of their sleepless stand off, as if by magic, an almost imperceptible breeze slunk through the open window, rippling and ruffling over their naked bodies, a cool reprieve in what felt like an eternity of heat. One sighed, then the other. Both chuckled tentatively, waiting for the other to break. Laughter split their faces, each holding their sides, heads back, limbs flung akimbo. The laughed like children, freely, without shame, and they only stopped laughing when they realised the breeze had stopped and they remembered they were at odds. Scowl, smile, smile, kiss; that’s all it took. That’s all it took to get their bellies pressed damply against each other, tongues meandering and a breathless thrust and parry as they fucked their egos into submission on the altar of their bed.

The night was long and hot, and they wrung it dry.



Word Count: 219

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Violet Fawkes

Violet Fawkes (she/her) is a freelance writer and sex blogger focusing on pleasure education, erotic fiction, and the intersection of identity, kink and mental health.