Flock

He tilts his head, his eyes lit by his lantern. “A politician?”

“You’ve got my vote.”

“Your vote,” he bounces his head back and forth, mulling it over. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to be a politician.”

“Why?”

“I’d rather be part of the solution.”

“That’s a shame. I was just thinking of all the dirty things I would do to you if you wore a suit.”

“Ah,” he hangs his head, “so she wants a suit guy.”

“No, I want you, guy.”

I can feel his smile against my chest. “That so?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well,” he nestles between my legs and sucks my nipple into his mouth, speaking around the peaked flesh. “I’m going to have to make you work for it.”

My breath hitches as I speak. “Don’t you always?”

“Yes,” he pulls back and looks down on me, “but this is getting serious, you see because any minute we’re going to hit our ultimate end as marijuana addicts. We have to make it count.”

He hovers above me with the moonless night sky behind him.

“Then we’d better hurry,” I say, lifting to kiss him and he dodges it, pressing my wrists into the blanket.

“You’re such an ass.”

“And you’re…so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs softly. “So beautiful…” he places my hand on his chest. “Cecelia, you wound me. Why’d you have to be so pretty?” For a second, I see something I’ve never seen in his expression and an unmistakable flash of fear in his eyes.

“Sean, what’s wrong?”

His eyes clear as he gazes down at me. “Not a damn thing.”

“You sure?” I run my hands through his hair as he buries his head in my chest.

“Help me, baby. The madness finally got me.”