Old Briton Times

A/N Yes this is back, yes I'm finishing it, yes I've just broken my leg and have time to work on stories now.

Wessex, the world without shrimp 885 AD

Our honeymoon began on a Wednesday. It was not something we planned or even expected, it was something that just happened. Perhaps Illyria knew what she was doing when she sent us there, or maybe she had no idea at all. We stepped through the portal onto a green scape. It was a beautiful scene, a field of grass overlooking a blackened valley. The field was strewn with mayflowers and poppies, dandelions and daisies lining the edge of the grass in the direction of a small settlement at the bottom of the hill. I took my husband's hand and guided him through the grass, my feet and his were bare and delicate as the morning dew peppered our toes.

I thought we should hurry in the direction of the hamlet, before the sun set beyond the horizon and they'd be left out in the cold. My fingers entwined with Wes' and his body magnetised to mine, suddenly it all became clear to me, I saw what would happen tonight, like what happened the first night. Would be shrouded in wools and furs, a kindly stranger would've taken us in and laid us to bed for the night - saying it's what Alfred the Great would do. Their kindness would envelope us in a warm sense of love and safety to which we could cocoon. I would lay on the wooden floor with my head gently propped up, Wesley would take the space above me, pushing into me, his body hard and sculpted underneath my fingertips. I would smile and move my hands to cup around his face, and in kissing him I would feel the stubble of his chin roughly graze my own as his lips held some other kind of softness. His whole bodily shuddering above me as he let himself go, let himself spill into me, I let myself pull him downwards, towards me and towards my neck.

I nodded as my dream trance faded and I saw myself back where I knew myself to be standing back in the field with Wes. His kind blue eyes looking into mine with a mild concern disguised as confusion. His lips looked delicious, plump and juicy, he looked tasty. I tried not to lick my lips, then internally chastised myself for being so openly affectionate. A blush rose my cheeks quickly, Illyria smiled inside our head. I could feel the creep of my embarrassment feeding her. Then I felt Wes' hand in mine once more and his pull down the hill as he let the hem of my dress flutter in the wind.