a storm is coming

Prompt: April showers, May flowers…
Word Count: 720

***

She had woken early, earlier than usual, which was why the normally loud and rambunctious encampment that had served as home for the past few days was still. It was a rare peaceful moment, the orange sun of dawn giving the sky a pinkish hue as the fog rolled in off the river. It would rain soon, she could feel it, and she smiled absently at the thought. Before anyone could delay her, she quickly gathered up her comb and clothes and headed toward the river.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes as she approached the water. He was there before her. She should have known. Whenever even the slightest twinkle of sunlight peered over the edge of the sky, he was awake.

He had already dressed, shaking the remaining water from his shaggy, dark hair as she approached. She smiled at him before removing her pants, pulling her tunic over her head and walking down the bank into the river.

She closed her eyes as she skimmed her fingers over the top of the water. The water was warm, like the sticky air that surrounded it, but that did not diminish her enjoyment of it, how it ran through her hands and rested on her skin. She took a deep breath before fully submerging herself, allowing the water to soak through her long, brown tresses. And though the water usually calmed her, soothed away her tension and worries, even it could not subdue the nervous coil in her stomach at that moment.

She did not dare turn around to face him – she did not need to. She could feel his every movement; casually leaning against a tree on the shore, taking slow, methodical bites around the pit of an apricot, his eyes trained on her back, their dark expression betraying his casual body language. She stifled a shudder. Despite the fact she remained covered with the fabric she used to bind her breasts and thighs, she had never felt more exposed.

She turned, releasing the breath she had not realized she held in the thick, humid air, her lips parting slightly with the effort. Her dark, round eyes latched onto the icy, sapphire pools of his, trapped there by the intensity burning behind his gaze. She sunk further down into the water, slowly descending until her eyes rested just above the waterline. Finally she raised her hand just above the top of the water and keeping her movements slow and deliberate, beckoned him to her with her index finger.

He let the apricot fall from his hand and without removing his eyes from hers, shrugged out of his tunic and pants before advancing towards her into the water, which she swore had steamed when his skin met it. She stood unmoving, rooted to her spot by the tugging feeling in her chest. Soon he was in front of her, then behind her, his fingers trailing up her arm. She could feel the muscled plains of his torso behind her, begging her to lean back. She obliged them, his fingertips sliding up and down both of her arms. Her breaths were shallow, whether from the heat of the muggy air or the heat inside her body, she did not know.

The sun had fully risen, meaning it was only a matter of time before their friends would wake. She turned her head to face him and made her best attempt at shutting out the feelings of his hands running down her neck and shoulders and arms and stomach and… and she inhaled sharply, her breath catching. She closed her eyes as she arched against him, his lips lightly brushing her skin as he whispered sweet encouragements in her ear. His name rolled off her lips in hushed whimper, her own voice sounding foreign to her.

The faint roll of thunder roared out in the distance, bringing them both back to senses previously abandoned in the heat of the damp, oppressive air. They froze where they were, their eyes locked together, each daring the other to look away.

“We should go back,” she said finally, her voice soft, “There is a storm coming.”

He nodded in agreement.

Neither moved.