Some scenes begin with heavy negotiation and planning. Some scenes begin with a request (or an order).
And some scenes begin with nothing but a look.
Last night when I went up to bed, as I closed the bedroom door, I happened to look down the stairs. Husband was there, directly in my line of sight, looking straight up at me. He had that look in his eyes, the one letting me know a challenge had been drawn; and I met his look with my own, letting him know: challenge accepted.
He came up without a word.
He lay down next to me, on top of the blanket. His intentions were obvious, but I surprised him by getting up and turning off the light. Now, in our house, turning off the light is a big no-no; Husband likes his visuals, and typically orders me to keep the light on. But last night, he didn't try to stop me. He just made some noises of frustration when I climbed back on the bed in the dark.
Then he reached for me--and brushed his arm hard against my nose.
I howled and moved away from him. "What the hell did you do that for?" I yelled, rubbing my face.
"I'm sorry. It's dark, and I can't see."
"Well now my nose hurts."
He reached for me again, this time grabbing my breast. But I was far from mollified, and moved away from him once more.
"I said, my nose hurts. God, you could at least apologize."
"I did. You just didn't hear me. Now you can go fuck yourself."
"I didn't hear it because you didn't mean it. You should say it like you mean it."
He cleared his throat, deepened his voice, and said, very clearly:
"Go fuck yourself."
We were both laughing for a good few minutes, giggling like children.
As the laughter died down, I spread my legs and reached my hand between them, rubbing haphazardly.
"Fine," I said. "I will fuck myself. You can just go back downstairs if you want to."
The climate went from playful to wicked as he grabbed my hand away and twisted my body into his own. "I don't think so," he said, his voice a menacing whisper. "I can see much better than you in the dark."
It was on after that. We wrestled across the bed, bucking and heaving, as I tried to get him off me and he did his best to pin me down. He always had the upper hand, because each time I managed to slip out from beneath him, he would squeeze my tender nipple, the one he had recently pinned at a birthday party we attended together. Every time he squeezed that nipple, I would freeze in shock and pain, and he would get back on me.
Of course, after a while, I didn't want him getting off off me. I wanted him on me and in me, pounding me into oblivion and releasing all the energy we had just been building up with our wrestling and laughter. He held my legs up as he pummeled, and I grabbed his ass.
I can't state this enough: Husband has one of the most adorable asses in the world.
We're still stressed. I'm still often down. But as long as I can rely on Husband to be there, and hold me in the dark no matter what, even when we get bumped and bruised, even when we have to struggle to get where we need to be...
I think we'll be okay.