Passage From Autumn

Autumn was waiting for him, as always, when he entered the clearing. Their love affair was so old; sometimes he could remember precisely how old, and other times, not at all. Her hair burned with the rich red and gold of fallen leaves; that was what he always noticed first. Her eyes were green -- not a fresh green like Spring, but deeper, ancient in their knowing. Her smile was smug as she watched him approach.

"Late," she said, in a voice that rustled softly against the wind.

"I know," he said. "Overslept."

Her dress was a rich, chocolate silk, ragged at the hem, but otherwise timeless in style. It swished against her bare thighs as she took a step towards him.

"It's alright. I managed fine in your absence," she replied, stretching languidly. She yawned; she was tired, and he noticed that lines had begun to crinkle the corners of her eyes when she smiled. Her breasts, however, were full, supple, and they ebbed and flowed underneath the soft fabric as she breathed. Her olive seemed to shimmer in the fading daylight.

The air snapped crisply around them when he cracked a smile of his own.

"You always do," he said as he reached out a rugged hand towards her waist. He found her hip firmly, knowingly, and pulled her to him.

She shivered slightly, barely noticeable, and rose on the balls of her bare feet as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He slid his hands around to her lower back and pressed gently, taking a deep breath. Her hair smelled strongly of dried sunflowers, and ginger, and he buried her face in the swanlike curve of her neck.

His full beard, now stark white with age, prickled against her neck, and she threw her head back and laughed her deep, rusty laugh, almost a cackle in how unabashed it was.

"You've missed me," she surmised, wasting no time sliding her delicate fingers between this legs. As she spoke, her breath came out as a white puff of air. Even the trees seemed to shiver as the sun went down.

"Once a year is hardly enough." His large hand was now entangled in the hair at the back of her neck, and he pulled her head back to kiss her before she could reply.

His lips were cool, but loving, and she opened her mouth submissively, letting her warm breath brush past his lips. His tongue licked the corner of his mouth teasingly, and all of the sudden she was painfully aware of her nipples pressed against his bare chest.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked breathlessly.

His stare was solemn as he moved to lay her down on the ground, which was covered with leaves that had deserted their now-naked masters surrounding the clearing.

"Yes," he said, watching her spread her arms above her head as she lay down. Her hair seemed to disappear in the dying fall colors beneath her head. "But I never notice until I'm with you."

She nodded at this, opening her knees as he eased down between them. His cock was pressing hard against her now, straining at the dark fabric of his trousers. She dropped her hand down a second time, and squeezed. The fabric was coarse, and the color always reminded her of soot and ash. Two hands now, as she worked with his belt. The metal buckle was freezing against her hand.

He reached down to help her, anxious now, always anxious, it seemed -- their encounters never lasted long enough. And suddenly there he was, his cock removed and pressing against her silk-covered thighs, which were almost balmy with heat. He shoved her dress up to her waist, no longer ready to wait.

A soft growl escaped her throat, and Autumn shifted her hips up so that his thick shaft fell against her hot, plump lips instead of sliding into her. It was always this way; she could feel is escalating, blood pounding in her ears now.

With his knees, he knocked her legs further apart, causing her hips to shift downward where he wanted them. He slid against her wet slit for a moment, the heat of her cunt unfurling against his cock like warm, teasing fingers.

She jerked her hips to the left as hard as she could, denying him entrance again. His eyes became frosty blue slits as she toyed with him. Always slightly obnoxious, but also always intensely rewarding. He slid a callused hand into the bosom of her dress, moving the fabric aside as he ducked his head down to suck on one of her nipples into his mouth. She purred now, arching her back up against him, even as he began to bite her tenderly.

"Mmm," she said, her voice shifting into a muted, sultry rumble. "You know just how I like it, don't you."

He chuckled, then released her throbbing nipple from his mouth, but kept his lips pressed against her skin as he spoke.

"I ought to, after this long."

She smiled to herself, staring at the grey snow clouds amassing overhead and to the east. She said nothing in return, enjoying how he had now reached down to open her up; his fingers explored her folds expertly, sliding up and down, dipping in and out for brief moments, and then up...up...and...oh, a thumb circling around her clit.

Her body rocked up against his, electrified. He responded with a snarl of his own, the hand that had so tenderly caressed her breast earlier sliding up to her neck and applying pressure, forcing her back down, cutting her breath into ragged gasps.

He pinned her previously uncooperative hips down with his weight, and slid his cock upwards until it dipped into the soaked curve of her slit. Her hands flew to his back, pressing first, then clawing, wanting, begging.

Easing up on her throat, he locked eyes with hers. How dark they must look in this moment, he thought. How intense and somber and rough. How appropriate.

And then he was sliding into her inch by inch, slowly, not how she wanted it at all by now, he knew, but he wasn't going to waste this moment.

Her cunt enveloped him, pulled him inward, as deep as he could go, and he eased his face down to hers so he could press their lips together as he moaned. She was surprisingly hot, and so smooth and wet that he thought for a moment her dress had become caught between them. But no, it was just her, always just her; he forgot, sometimes, how different from everyone else -- how rich and glorious -- she felt inside.

Her nails were cut short and painted a soft jade color to match her eyes, and currently, they were digging into his lower back, piercing the skin. That's always how she wanted to go -- no matter how slow and easy he wanted it, Autumn always wanted to be fucked.

He clasped her lower lip between his teeth, then drove himself into her. She cried out, painfully and joyfully, as he did. Her voice seemed to echo off the bare trees around them.

He slid an arm under her hips, pulling her up against him as he found his rhythm, and then suddenly they were in a deep and eternal pattern, a perfect rise and fall that time seemed to wait for.

She'd thrown her arms up above her head again, hands grasping desperately at the dead leaves, clawing for purchase, finding none. A fine frost had covered the clearing, and the leaves and dirt stuck to her body as her heat melted the cold beneath her.

A dark blush began spreading across her cheeks; her eyes were huge and untamed, fringed in dark lashes. Her hair, soaked now, was plastered against her cheeks and neck. She began screaming like a riotous, wild thing, and her chest pitched and heaved as she was impaled over and over again.

Then there it was, too soon, always too soon, an unyielding, liquid warmth radiating out from the center of her and spilling across the rest of her body. Her thrashing was too much for him, and he followed quickly, filling her up, so much that it overflowed out of her thighs and onto the ground beneath them as they kept thrusting and undulating against each other, unwilling to stop.

They wound down slowly, until his arms could no longer hold him, and he collapsed against her. Their lungs jerked for breath against the frigid air, and he closed his eyes and pressed his face against her cheek, willing himself to remember her in that moment, flushed and bright and overwhelming in her beauty, knowing he could not.

"Why do you always go so hard towards the end?" he asked quietly, when they were both sitting up and breathing again. She was shrugging on the thin, silky straps of her dress when he said it, and couldn't help but smirk.

"Just my nature. You know that."

Then she stood, not bothering to brush anything off her dress, which was now crushed and soaked with sweat and frost.

"I have to go," she added quietly, noting that it had begun to snow lightly around them.

"I know," he said, wanting to risk a last kiss, but knowing she was already late herself, past due, and couldn't linger a moment longer.

Autumn bid him farewell as she slipped away from Winter for another year.