Midnight

The night is warm and silent, the air drenched with heat and static, distant city lights reflecting murkily off heavy clouds. Vicky's leg presses momentarily against my shoulder as she clambers up the tree trunk- foot in hands, knee on shoulder, black leggings and white dress brushing past my face in the darkness. Feet on shoulder, tattooed ankles, painted toes, vanishing up into the darkness amidst the whisper of leaves.

"Come on!"

I grin. Warmth. The feeling of being with Vicky- chasing Vicky, fooling around with Vicky, and all her games and adventures.

One day it would end, one day we'd both grow up and get married and have responsibilities to-

"Come on Nate! They'll see you!"

I hop, jump, grab at a branch, and feel Vicky's hand close around my spare wrist- firm, something to lean against, to hold, pulling me up into the darkness.

"Idiot," she mutters, closer now. Something of her breath against my shoulder, her arm around my waist, steadying, and then letting go as she moves to climb further up amongst the branches.

My heart is beating. I can feel it heavy against my ribs, the same way it always gets with Vicky this close, the sudden absence of her warmth sharp. I move to follow, stepping carefully over boughs and branches, testing my weight to each of them as she leads me on towards the canopy.

We're waiting for the prince to arrive.

He'll be coming via carriage after midnight.

That's what they say.

That's what Vicky overheard.

Coming for a right and proper education.

"We'll go up in the old chestnut tree and watch him arrive!"

I grin, we'll be the first to see him. Vicky's white skirt bobs to a fro in front of me, stained with grass and moss now, in the soft greyscale of night vision. A moments light as she brushes the canopy aside, then reaches down and pulls me up beside her, onto a fork in the branch.

There's seventy eight different trees around the border of the university grounds- many more spread around the gardens, but seventy eight real big ones along the boundary. Every one a different species, a sort of botanical catalog of sorts, all mismatched and frantic compared to a "proper English garden". The horse chestnut broods over in the corner- close enough to the entrance for a view, but far enough away for a couple voyeurs not to get noticed.

We sit, and watch. 11:47, according to the old clock tower, the clock face illuminated from behind by soft yellow light. We don't know when the prince arrives. "After midnight"- that's all.

Vicky fidgets beside me, rearranging herself on the branch next to me, her eyes quick, darting around in the moonlight, short dark hair, round cheeks-

"What?" She catches me looking.

"Nothing."

A poked out tongue, a finger aimed just belong my ribs, prodding at me while I'm held hostage to keeping myself balanced in the tree.

"You're looking at me again."

"You're nice to look at."

She rolls her eyes, shuffles over towards the brunch I'm sitting on. We huddle together for warmth- both insufficiently dressed for a night of stalking. A head against my shoulder, a hand around her waist, something- a warm thought- the feeling of wanting this to last for always, the feeling of always wanting to be up in this tree with Vicky's body pressed against me.

"Your heart's beating."

"Hmmm?"

We settle into a fork amongst the branches, let the wood support us. Clouds wash over stars overhead, with every so often, a single dollop of rain.

And then a kiss.

A single kiss pressed deep against my collar bone. My breath catches, I feel myself freeze, blinking as she kisses me again, her lips light and warm.

I feel my hands tighten around her, finger tips digging into her back, into the fabric of her shirt.

"Do you want me?"

Yes.

Hands tighten, lifting her, pulling her against me, our lips touch, awkward at first, uncertain, too close- not close enough, I can feel her legs wrapping around me on either side, thighs pressed against my hips, a single arm splayed out for balance as I taste her tongue against my teeth between my lips, the same tongue poked out in jest, the same tongue she licked frost with just to-

This is what I was waiting for.

This is what I was chasing after.

"I've wanted you so long,"

She grins, wraps her arms around me, and the branch beneath, pulling herself higher, leaves catching in her hair, her chest at eye level, heaving.

"Well now you can have me."

We kiss. We make out. I press my lips against her check, her neck, other places, the entire tree shaking, her breathing irregular as I suckle on each nipple, my tongue pressing them into her as they come erect, my hands against her back, yearning, that deep familiarity born of trust, the tree groaning as she presses her weight against me, shuddering with each gentle flick of my tongue. I press back, feel hunger, the desire to be close, to be with her- to be inside her, my cock is hard against the leg of my pants, and then suddenly she's got her hand down there and I have to grab frantically at the tree to stop us falling.

She wants this. She wants you. She wants ME.

We're both laughing, panting, bodies suddenly tense against one another, breathing irregular, her tits out, pressed flat against my shirt now as I kiss the top of her head. Everything familiar. Everything making sense.

Of course we were in love.

Of course we would make love and fool around and fuck each other senseless.

Of course, of course of course, it was always going to be this way.

Inevitable.

"Why did we waste so much time?"

She grins, runs a finger along the base of my shaft, I can't even tell where it is any more, feels like she's tied it in knots, I-

"Because its fun," She pecks at my shoulder, lets go, presses herself against me, ear against my chest. At peace. "Because, I was scared you wouldn't want me."

Of course I want you.

Of course. I always wanted things to be like this.

I open my mouth, close it again. Trying to find, the words, trying to find the words for something so simple, something so obvious, something so absolutely true.

But there can be no words for this.

My hand drifts along the back of her head, fingers running through her hair, as her hand seeks out the back of my shirt, sliding up against my skin, pulling my body against her.

Our eyes meet, and then break contact, and for long moments we study each others faces.

I count the constellation of her freckles, dark specks beneath the moonlight. Her nose crinkles as she pouts puzzlement in my direction, and seeing her lips, I can't help but smile, the taste of her kiss still fresh within my mouth.

"I want you," her voice is soft, puzzled, earnest "I want to share my body with you. I want your arms and waist and lips. I want your eyes, dark against the moonlight."

She rearranges herself higher, we kiss, her lips hard against mine, her breathing heavy, lips locked, my arms around her waist tugging rhythmically, sounds barely escaping her lips as she comes up for air, finger now claws against my back and-

Oh god I want this.

I want you.

I want- "Oh Vicky."

"Lets-" She nods towards the ground. A single drop of rain strikes against her face. I brush it away, feel my fingers trail through her hair.

"What about the Prince?"

"There is no prince. I made that up to get you out here," she bites my ear "to seduce you."

She wants- she wants- she wants-

I stop making choices, every action leading to the next, sliding into place.

A kiss, a pinch, descending the tree- less distance in between us this time, bumping into one another, touching. She doesn't bother to lift her shirt back on, a cool breeze and a dozen tiny scratches as we clamber down, another kiss, this time to the right nipple- she shudders, I want her, a savage, primal thing, a yearning, for closeness, for completion, for connection, for her body against my skin. And she wants this. She wants this too. We leap from the lowest branch hand in hand, tumble in a heap, lie laughing, panting. She made it all up. She made it all up. She planned for this to happen. The wanting of being wanted mixed with the wanting itself. We pinch and poke at one another, rolling together in the dry leaves, in the moonlight.

We nestle close, folding together, a game with too many arms and legs, droplets of rain like icicles against my back, as she lifts my shirt off, as I pull down her leggings, as she lies beneath me, my hands squeezing the soft white skin on either side of her belly button. She's laughing, looking up at me, quick eyes, glittering laughter in the darkness, her face smudged with dirt and freckles. I press my waist down against her- she gasps: "Do that. Keep doing that. "

I do. Her moans and gasps follow some urgent pattern, urging me on, building, faster, closer. My pants are still on. Desperately I stop, fumbling at the buttons in an attempt to get them off. I succeed, meaning to turn back, climb back on top of her, except somehow she's on top of me, with her lips pressed against my cock, and her tongue-

"Ohh... Vicky..."

It doesn't make sense... it doesn't make sense...Vicky's cool, what the hell is she-

Vicky's heads bobs up and down against my cock, her hair spilling down over me in some sort of depraved mockery of censorship, I feel wet, hard, it hurts, and suddenly she stops and flops herself down beside me, and she's wearing nothing but her soft white dress, waiting for me to lift it up and press myself inside her.

She catches me starring and rolls her eyes.

"Well? You gonna sit there starring all night?"

"I could,"

"Doofus," She swats at me, and in that momentary contact, all hesitation is blown away.

I lunge, pin her down at the wrists, force her legs wide with my knees. Rain tumbles down on us, a billion pinprick drops of ice, the ground beneath us soft, not yet mud, but no longer dry, as Vicky arches back, as Vicky presses herself against me. I don't bother removing her dress, just drag it up, out of our way, the wretched garment getting tangled, stained, as I drop my chest on top of her, take hold her shoulders, and ram into her.

"Ow!"

Raw heat.

I grind Vicky into the grass as she lies there, winded, trembling, stunned.

I know that I'm hurting her, know should be gentle, perhaps, except she trusts me, and I want her.

No matter what I do to you tonight, it'll only make you need me more.

That's what I want Vic'.

I want to make you yearn me, crave me.

I want to fuck you so hard, you can't stand up.

I want to fuck you so hard you forget how to talk, forget how to think, forget how to be anything but a whore.

I want you to play games, and let me fuck you in the bunk room, in the library, in the chapel.

I want us to fool around for always and forever and-

White like. Long shadows. Everything visible, in stark relief, an image imprinted on my eyes.

One... two... three...

Then thunder. A deep rumble rolling out across us, taking light away.

Vicky shudders, whimpers, shudders again: a full body twitch- everything tense, and then for a moment soft. Slowly her arms settle around my waist, firm hot bars blocking out the icy pitter patter of the rain.

"Storms close."

I nod. Water around my hair and face. We hold each other for a moment, and then I feel Vicky cunt squeeze around me. It's like a hand... but boneless. Pure muscle, strength without structure, pulling on me, teasing at me, and I need it, need to press myself into her, and its now- only now that I understand what it means to be inside Vicky.

"Oh... Vicky..."

She laughs. "You like that?"

I nod.

She squeezes me again, and I press down, and we get back to fucking, except this time we're both here, this time I understand.

Fucking isn't something that's done to Vicky.

Its a game we play, something we do together.

We writhe against one another, twisting through one another, sweat caught between our chests, despite the downpour. Vicky growls and moans, as I cradle her head, as I murmur sweet and vulgar nothings into space, words lost amongst the all encompassing roar of the rain, as it pounds against my back, battering the pair of us into the mud.

When did the rain get so hard, when did it-

Lightning. Thunder. Vicky bucks up against me, and I need her, do my best to cradle her warm body away from the slick cold mud. Her hands grasp at it and rub it across my: ice cold dirt, mixed with twigs and leaves and rain and sweat, scratching its way across my back.

We're going to freeze to death out here, we're going to-

"Nate, I wanna ride you!"

"What?"

"I want to ride you!"

"I-"

Vicky takes hold of me, command of me, hauls me down beside her in the sludge. We catch at each other, wrestle for a moment, laughing, and shoving, tearing up the grass and and slipping over one another even as we try to gain purchase.

I feel like a kid. Like a fucking toddler discovering bubble bath for the first time and-

I always thought this would make me feel like an adult.

I always thought this would make me feel like a man.

It feels so innocent.

Vicky's bulk comes down on top of me with a thump. I'm pinned. Pinned beneath her curves, beneath her think warm legs.

She's like a Valkyrie, like a viking- some sort of warrior maiden stuffed into the body of a cherub.

I can barely see her through the rain pouring in my eyes, can barely hear her, as I feel her mass re-arranging over me, lining me up, and pressing down.

"Oh god."

Her pussy tenses, that now familiar squeeze before she starts to rock her hips back and forward. Slower. Rolling. The warmth of her body churning against me, the rhythm familiar, the rhythm familiar to every single cell in our bodies. Instinctively I grab her ass. Instinctively she leans forward, places scrunched up fists against my chest, and pins me down.

I can feel her breathing, rapid, irregular, and it feels so good, and it feels so good to let her set the pace.

I need her. I need her I need her I need her

My mouth hangs open, and I'm drinking, and I drink as if I've never tasted water, as if I could drink the entire sky, and I'm desperate, and I'm drowning. Water streams across my eyes and lightning illuminates her blurry silhouette. Moments later thunder punctuates our love, and our bodies slap against one another, harder, and both of us are laughing, and I can't understand, and I know I can't understand, and I feel so innocent, and the world is new.

Oh my god

oh my god oh my god.

I feel like Jesus fucking Christ on the day or resurrection, and the whole world is new, and the whole world was made from a storm, and I want you Vicky.

I want you.

My body pulls her down. Our lips lock, and I can taste her tongue again. I buck into her. We moan, beg, neither of us is in control. I feel careless, possessive, contented and hungry. We're shuddering against one another, and I feel the power of her, the power of this hot firm human animal, this beautiful woman quivering against me.

And its Vicky.

Its Vicky.

Not just any person.

It's Vicky.

"I've wanted you for so damn long."

Vicky moans.

Lightning strikes- closer now, and we can't stop, won't stop, no reason to stop and-

Destiny.

Certainty.

Perfection.

She grips onto me. I plow into her, over and over, fucking her as liquid heat escapes my cock. I can feel her gasping, shuddering, her breath trembling in my ear.

There is nothing but this.

Nothing but the heat of another human body, the cold of the world around.

We hold each other tight, tense, gradually managing to release our hold... and then we sag exhausted into a quagmire of torn up grass.

Minutes pass.

I don't even bother to track the lightning and the thunder. It doesn't matter any more. Nothing matters.

Except...

Except...

"Vicky... how are we going to get back into the dorms without dripping mud everywhere?"

And then a moment later she replies:

"Nate, where the fuck are our clothes?"