The song that inspired this writing, from Exhibit Unadorned’s Christmas Erotica Prompt, song In the Bleak Midwinter. (I listened to it the entire time I wrote this piece.)
She traversed a bleak landscape of white and frost towards a bleak broken down church. Still, huddled though she was, she paused for a moment and looked, through the white flakes coming from the heaven towards earth, at the grandeur of a part of the side that still stood, the arched though vacant concrete window frames that still stood proudly. She tried to imagine it full of people and hope, color and life.
She sought solace in its walls, comfort in its will to stand tall still.
And then she saw his figure in the frame of a window, gripped her clothing tighter about her, and proceeded to cautiously make her way amid the now frail blocks of concrete that had fallen in years past.
Before she could utter a word, he had gripped her shoulder, spun her around, and moved his arm around her neck, whispering in her ear how not even the walls of so sacred a place would hear her scream. Though the snow drifted in less places where they stood, it still fluttered like her heart and clung to her cheeks like tears.
She nodded her assent and he released her, circled around and she felt herself not worthy of this place where angels gathered and people were blessed, could not look upon the gray walls covered with bits of moss, vines, and earth that reached up still so high. She flung her view downcast. He stripped her, slowly, first shifting her hood away and taking hold of her chin with a soft order to look at him. When she met his steady gaze, she felt reassured and comforted. He commanded she look around and take a deep breath of what would become his reign over her in this most holy of places. He leaned forward and kissed both of her cold cheeks softly with his warm lips while slower still unraveling the scarf from her neck.
When he moved away to unhurriedly slip her jacket and the rest of her clothing from her body, the very air thronged with tension and passion; and compelled her exposed skin to be even more aware of his warmth in the midst of this once full concrete marvel. The frost bit into her skin and awakened it and she counted the grooves in those arched windows, starting at the top of the pointed frame and every time her eyes drifted down to another groove she felt her body calming, felt her forehead relaxing and her jaw unclenching, felt her shoulders sliding down and her back to straighten proudly, felt her chest rise and fall with each inhalation and exhalation, her stomach a slight wave from welcoming the breaths, her hips and bottom capable of supporting her with legs and feet on a solid foundation.
For though the walls crumbled throughout the years, the foundation at this very core was solid and secure.
His legs connected with the back of her knees and she knelt as if in prayer, worshiped the cold floor beneath with a beloved kiss, connected with the cold hardness like iron and pure white flakes that melted beneath her loving lips. He gripped her hair and pulled her head up, and she felt suddenly that she was worthy, that she had every right to be right here in this moment, that she could fill this sacred space with love and sustain this man at its center.
*Also with a focus on Brutalism/Concrete for Kink of the Week.