Lamentations VIII

Gods, bless and keep him!

Laura hadn’t truly prayed in longer than she could remember, but she was praying now, earnestly, fervently, as the man she loved suckled at her cancer-stricken breast the way he always had, always did, as if the tumor was not there at all.

She wanted the gods, if they existed and were listening, to bless him for that. And she wanted to thank them for him and his ability to love so fully and deeply that she knew for certain where his heart lay and that he would stand by her, even to death, if that’s what it came to.

She hoped it wouldn’t. Hoped against fear, against the science and probability genetics she understood all too well, and the memories too vivid for her liking.

She wanted to live. She wanted a home and life with him, to love him with every ounce of love she was capable. She wanted it now, at this moment, more than she’d ever wanted it or anything else before. She burned with need of it, could barely breath as her traitorous logical mind told her she might not get it.

Her heart railed against the very idea, wrenching in her chest. She groaned with the anguish of it. It was too much and she pleaded with Bill to love her, bowing her head and whispering into the salt-and-pepper waves of his hair, “Make me forget. Frak me and make me forget.”

He was so faithful, so steadfast. He did exactly what she asked.

He pulled her down, his broad hands spanning her waist and pulling her effortless down until her pussy was hovering over his rising cock. Then he rolled her under him, further from the heat of the fire, but blessedly closer to him and his warmth.

Then he swamped her with sensation, with love and desire. Using his hands and mouth and then his cock, he took her toward mindlessness again, his powerful thighs propelling him into her, again and again and again, his blue eyes burning with the same passionate desperation that she felt.

Hungry and frightened, but determined … and so achingly in love.

Her heart rising in her chest, she reached for him and took his face in her hands, intending to say the words, but he beat her to it, lowering to whisper them against her lips, a prelude to his spilling inside her.

She hugged him to her, her body surging at the feel of him flooding her womb, the heady warmth welcome and wanted, the fullness it caused again striking her as something uniquely beautiful. She smiled at feeling it, tears still slipping from her eyes in a strange mixture of joy and grief, of hope and fear, and of overwhelming love.

Gods, she could not lose this, never wanted to leave him, found herself taking a silent and urgent vow…

She was going to fight this frakking cancer with everything she had, with whatever the doctors thought best. She was going to fight for them, for him, for the life they wanted together.

Turning her head, she kissed his sweat-slick cheek, whispering softly but with ironclad conviction, “We’re going to fight this, Bill.”

His reply was simple and touched her heart.

“Yes, we are.”

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