Intaglio Dragons All The Way Down

chapter 29: The Rented Room



Thomas awoke in the darkness, mind hazy with sleep. Around him, a faint blue light marked the borders of his limbs and the undersides of objects wrapped in sooty shadows. ‘Payne’s gray and indigo,’ his mind whispered, and he frowned in confusion. His torso was cast in shades of blue, the muscles highlighted with pale bands. This wasn’t any place he recognized… or was it? A thrill of realization ran the length of his spine.

This was Ava’s painting… the one of him in the nude.

He shifted, fabric brushing against bare skin, and details began to appear. He recognized his own heavily-muscled body, the sight of it reclining an echo of another image. He squinted, a long-ago conversation answering his unspoken question.

“Why am I blue?”

“Because it’s night... and you’re swimming in the dark... the only light is the moon that’s just come through the storm clouds. It’s just you and the water…”

He couldn’t remember when they’d been talking about that, or why.

As the fog of sleep lifted, things pulled into focus. He saw, to his surprise, that he was in a room. ‘Not water at all,’ his mind whispered. He was lying in an unfamiliar bed, moonlight coming through the mullioned panes of a bare window.

“It’s just you there … Nothing and no one else as far as you can see… You’re free. It’s a new beginning… like a sacrament…”

The ripples he could see under his hip and leg were the loose folds of threadbare covers, the shimmering patch near his shoulder a pool of light coming through the nearby glass. He recognized the shape of the quickly-fading image, but the story behind it had changed.

He tried to dredge up the memory.

‘A painting…?’

He closed his eyes, trying to draw the dream forward, but the threads linking his thoughts were fragile. His lids fluttered open and he stared upward at the raftered roof, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light. For some reason, he knew that Ava would appreciate the interplay of moonlight and shadow. That, in turn, lifted the memory from the depths once more.

“It’s your beginning,” she whispered.

“There’s no point to a beginning if you have to be alone...”

He couldn’t remember when she’d said that to him.

Without warning, someone shifted next to him in the darkness, and Thomas jerked in surprise. Rolling onto his side, he caught sight of a woman’s curving back and pale sheet of hair, blending into the pillow. Shrouded by mismatched blankets, Ava was stirring.

“Is it morning already, Thomas?” she mumbled.

He smiled as the memory rushed forward.

They’d married hours ago. Tomorrow they set off to the new world.

“Not yet, my love,” he whispered. “The boats don’t leave until dawn.”

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling Ava into the hollow of his arms, their bodies blurring into the shadowy folds of the bed. She made a soft, dove-like sound as he dropped his mouth to hers. Ava kissed him with a fierceness which still surprised him, lips sliding against his in a heady dance. The night on the wharf had altered things between them… and it had changed Thomas and Ava too. There’d been months of uncertainty for Thomas as he’d waited for her to decide, but they’d been burned away by a single moment in the rain.

For a brief moment, he remembered Ava in the weeks after her father’s death, meek and subdued, her face colourless. She’d been bound by an obligation so strong Thomas had feared she’d chose someone else at her mother’s insistence.

‘Jon…’ his mind hissed.

He pushed the thought away, refusing to entertain his fears. That night in the rain, he’d been desperate. He’d pulled her into his arms and kissed Ava, and that had changed it all.

This here was the result.

Ava was all the things he wanted; no other woman had ever been close to the connection he felt with her. He moved nearer, sharing his meagre heat as he lay alongside her in the narrow bed. The kiss deepened, while his hands explored the length of her, tugging the thin cotton of her chemise up to her hips, leaving him free to play. Ava sighed into his mouth, her body melting against him as sleep faded. He stroked her inner thighs, feeling her shiver under his caresses.

“Thomas...” she moaned. The sound of her voice left him gasping for air. He couldn’t imagine life without Ava. Couldn’t imagine not having this moment.

Leaving her lips, Thomas’s mouth travelled the length of her neck and downward, tasting her flesh. Reaching her chest, he tugged at the ties of her chemise before taking one nipple in his mouth, then the other. Ava gasped, arching against the thin mattress, half sobbing with pent-up desire. Thomas revelled in the freedom their vows had bequeathed: to do the things he’d dreamed of doing so many times.

Thomas’ fingers moved deeper, finding her ready for him. Ava’s breath hitched with each brush of his fingers, one hand tightening on his shoulders, the other tight in his hair. Cautious of hurting Ava, Thomas eased himself atop her, awed by the flood of sensation which met him: her body, lithe and warm, wrapped around him. He slid forward, groaning at the perfection of their fit. A rising tide of passion began to build as they moved together in a familiar rhythm, a sensation he could almost recognize fluttering just beyond his awareness.

In minutes, Ava’s movements grew unsteady, mewling gasps growing into cries. She put her mouth against his shoulder, muffling a sudden shout as her body stiffened and then relaxed. In that moment, Thomas, realized what the familiar sensation was...

Ava felt like coming home.

An image flickered to mind unexpectedly: the two of them laying together on a couch, sheets billowing around them, the air sharp and cold. Behind them was a painting of Ava, fury marking her features… With a groan, Thomas tumbled into the scattered euphoria of their connection, the memory lost. He shuddered to a stop, ecstasy dragging all other thoughts away. Ava’s hands ran slowly over his head and shoulders, petting him the way his mother had when he’d been a little boy, and he smiled.

“Love you,” he murmured against her neck. “Always, Ava… always.”