Look East | A Hozier Fanfiction |

5

When Andrew awoke the next morning, he blinked rapidly in the brightness. He looked around his bedroom, taking in the familiar sights. Even though he wasn't living there permanently, he still felt at home. There was a reason why he had chosen the bed under the eaves.

The exposed wooden beams overhead were centuries-old, well-worn and etched by time's hand. Several sunlights had been carved into the roof overhead, drenching the loft in light. The wall behind his headboard was exposed stone, worn down by generations of fingers rubbing against it. He looked across the bed and found it empty.

Molly wasn't next to him and the sheets had gone cold. For a moment, he let himself entertain the idea that he had actually dreamt the previous night with her, that she hadn't taken him to this magic hole-in-the-wall filled with words, that he hadn't helped a drunken man stumble home, that she hadn't left articles of clothing strewn across the cottage as she made her way up to his bed. Yes, it had to have been a dream, the way she felt beneath his body as he emptied himself into her.

When he sat up, he knew he couldn't possibly have dreamt it; her skirt was still where she'd dropped it hours beforehand, on the floor. He walked across the wooden floors, ducking under a beam as he moved to the bathroom. After relieving himself, me pulled on his boxers and made his way down the spiral staircase, picking up the over shirt Molly had worn that morning. It still smelled of her.

Birds were chirping outside, even though a soft rain fell. Somehow, the windows in the lounge room had been left open and a gentle cool breeze blew through, disturbing the curtains. As he made his way toward the kitchen at the back of the house, he heard her soft humming and he stood in the doorway, watching her.

She was bathed in light as she stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing a pot. Her raven hair was gathered into a messy top knot on top of her head and she had on one of his well-worn t-shirts, with little else. He admired the curve of her back and the way the shirt fell just below her ass. She brought a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. There was a simple beauty about the way she made even the most mundane activities come alive.

Bubbles crackled under her sponge as she scrubbed on the pot. Occasionally it clunked against the side of the sink. Her breasts swayed as she moved and she stood with her feet slightly turned in. It was like watching a dream. In the light, her freckled olive skin glowed. He felt himself harden at the sight of her.

"Morning," he sighed, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her from behind. He pressed himself against her ass, kissing her neck softly.

She smiled. "Very good morning to you," she replied. Molly pushed back agsinst him, looking over her shoulder coyly.

He brought his hands down to her hips and lifted the hem of his shirt, tracing his calloused fingers across the soft skin of her hipbones. Andrew smiled as he slid his fingers across her ass, squeezing the flesh he found there. He hiked the shirt up around her rib cage, grazing his nails against her skin.

"Andrew," her voice was half moan, half warning.

"Molly," he replied, a smile on his voice as he ground into her.

"Let me finish," she insisted, though her breath hitched as he nibbled on her ear.

He slid his fingers between her thighs and found her clit. She nearly dropped the pot in the suds as he drew lazy circles around the tiny bundle of nerves. His teeth found her shoulder through the shirt. Her thighs started shaking just as she finished rinsing the pot. He took it from her with his free hand and set it down on the bench top next to her.

Forgetting himself, he slid his boxers down and pushed inside her in one smooth motion. Condoms would have been the smart thing to use at that point in time, but he didn't have the patience to faff about with one. And he knew Molly didn't care, either. The night beforehand, she'd been on top of him before he even had a chance to put one on.