Tight like a Trap

The song of the crickets cut out the chill in the air, even as they peered into each other's eyes. The village, a two minute walk away, was already heavy with sleep. The night hung, charged and throbbing, without a single source of light except the crystal moon far up in the sky. Her breath, shallow and jumpy, crisscrossed with his, in ragged asymmetrical waves. It could happen any moment : a combustion between two spirits having found each other again, after countless lifetimes. He bit his lip as the slight damp of his palm came in contact with her warm thigh. She gasped but couldn't resist her hand from travelling up to his face, full with a tough kind of beard. The air swirling about their heads carried the fragrance of the river, of cows that returned home at twilight and wild flowers they didn't know the names of. The imaginary fire they had first lit two evenings ago, now leapt up with an obsessive hunger, an unswerving purpose. She fell on him with all the force of the universe. And her mouth closed around his, tight like a trap, tingling with words kept secret from many a stranger before. They fell on to the young grass, figures entwining in a molten dance. The flames shot up and licked the roof of the sky, radiant with the pearl moon.