Weekly Writing Challenge: Snow Cabin

Just to note, this is really rough. It's late, the challenge winner has already been decided, but I put the effort into writing this, so I figured I may as well post it anyway.

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So there we were, finally just the two of us. Just he and I, in front of a beautiful, roaring fire; dinner settling in our stomachs as we shared a bottle of Merlot, blissfully ignoring the fact that somewhere in the snow laden forest, the Exterminators were likely onto our scent.

They had been tracking us since Deadwood, where we had stopped for the night after parting ways with that small group of rebels from Detroit. Despite being warned that The Leader had his men out en mass, we had taken back roads in your old beat up pick up and followed it to…well….here. Wherever “here” once was.

Now it was just a small cabin in the middle of a snow covered forest. The previous owners were likely dead somewhere, but they had been kind enough to leave behind some food and alcohol, which was good enough for us.

And there we were, his cheeks beginning to turn pink from the wine, our giggles beginning to fill the room as we reminisced about the days before all the world had went to shit.

It wasn’t always like this, he continued to remind me. There had been a time, ages ago, when the States had actually been united, before The Leader came with his robots. When the robots came, everyone was convinced that they would make life easier, and the Leader convinced them of such.

No one knows if the people of that time were brainwashed, or just stupid. Either way, the robots enslaved them all easily. And just as easily, the Leader’s empire expanded.

There were few, even now, who dared stand in his way. The human race had been reduced to slaves; slaves to a man who wasn’t really a man, at least, no one believed he was.

No man could have the black heart that the Leader possessed. No human man could send out hordes of robots to enslave the entire human race and kill all those who stood in their way.

And yet, there we were; two rebels who had managed to survive for nearly two decades fighting the robots and dodging the Exterminators. 

We had met at a really young age, my parents having been killed by the robots. His family had taken me in, taught me how to fight and how to live off the land. They became my family, my protectors.

Then, just as it had been with my family, we found ourselves caught in a raid. Robot scouts had invaded the town, found those who didn’t possess the Mark that the Leader branded all his slaves with, and took them out to be publicly executed. Because we were young and small, he and I escaped together. However, our family had not been so lucky.

Since then, we had been each other’s sole support; best friends til the end, as he always said.

And yet, lately I had felt like he was more. I had found him cute when we were young, but as we grew up together he became my best friend, and I knew he felt the same about me.

Still, there we were, two young rebels alone in a romantic cabin with hormones and alcohol coursing through our systems.

The blush in his face wasn’t just from the heat or the amount of wine he had consumed. I could see in his eyes that he was seeing me in a way that had been making living together difficult as of late.

Previously, it had been agreed upon that we were best friends. However, lately, I had become so aware of him. Of how strong and muscular his arms and chest were and how handsome his smile was. Every time his dark eyes met mine, I got chills in the best possible way. More and more I was beginning to feel like he was my everything, and feelings like that were not supposed to exist in this world. They were too dangerous.

Yet, there we were, his hand coming up and brushing the hair out of my face, lips spreading into a smile. His voice whispered my name softly and his face leaned close to mine.

Without much thought, I did what I had wanted to for such a long time.

I’d never been kissed before, never much thought about it. Neither of us had, for that matter and I couldn’t help wondering if we were doing it right. It didn’t matter really, because what we were doing felt right.

It felt fantastic to be laying there, his lips against mine, noses awkwardly colliding every so often as we attempted to switch angles.

In the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop feeling a strange sense of disbelief that this was actually happening. Perhaps I was going to die soon, and this was some long forgotten god’s way of apologizing for all the shit I had been through. And if so, this was the best repayment I could think of.

Because there he was, hands fumbling over buttons as he attempted to find skin.

And there I was, my lips seeking refuge in the crook of his neck.

There is nothing quite as fascinating as the feeling of skin on skin. The first time you experience it, the shock of warmth and familiarity runs all the way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Though foreign, the feeling is also so familiar. As if out of instinct, you find yourself seeking the warmth of the other person.

Clothes became scarce and we found euphoria in each other’s touch, his closeness intoxicating. It took me to a heaven I had never before so much as imagined. I lost and found my breath, nearly capsizing in a sea of passion. We were like two vessels lost in a stormy sea, the waves throwing us about, raising us far higher than we should have ever been and then crashing over us and driving us together.

My limbs tingled and we collapsed, sweat dripping off my brow and onto his chest, which rose and fell rapidly with his quick, ragged breaths.

And there we were, two young lovers brought together by the worst circumstances. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was the two of us, enjoying the feeling of each other’s embrace as a fire roared in the stone fireplace beside us.

It was just the two of us, in our little snow cabin, lost in something that people long ago would have likened love.