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An attempt at prehistoric romance, an idea I've at floating around in my head for quite a while.
Much has been assumed for the purpose of this story.
His and her children. Theirs were the only ones in the entire tribe who didn't have any half-siblings. All three of them possessed his cerulean eyes and her chocolate hair. The matriarch of their tribe suspected she was with child for the third time in as many years (the first two were twins); her stomach had been emptying itself through her throat early in the morning for six weeks now.
His eyes conjured her face: the expressive eyes that begged him to hold her, the striking smile that stole his heart, the luscious lips that quickened his pulse. His own lips curved into a smile with which all the young girls in his own tribe and the tribes they hunted alongside in summer were smitten.
She was the only one who could make his grimaces turn into grins faster than his arrows flew. His arrows sailed swifter than those of anybody else in the tribe, as did his spear. He became the best to impress her, though he needn't have because she was already his. Now the other girls had even more incentive to want to carry his child.
He had only been seduced by one girl, the mother of all of his children. The furthest anybody else, besides his children, had gotten before roughly being shoved off his body was a one-sided embrace. His friends always questioned why he would refuse to spend a night with a pretty girl, and he would always respond, “If it isn't her, it feels wrong.” None of them understood.
How was he supposed to explain the rush of seeing her worry become elation instead of boredom becoming anticipation? How was he supposed to explain the feelings of joining her in soul as well as body? How was he supposed to explain the inability to abandon her children for another woman's, even if they were his?
She was the only reason he was alive. She was just another girl until she saved him from death. A bear had attacked him, slashing his torso and back and leaving him on the brink of death. The men in the tribe had turned away from him, glad to see their main competitor down. The women left him because their mothers and brothers told them to.
She was an orphan with no one to warn her against taking up a lost cause. She cleaned his wounds and nursed him back to health. Even though they were barely out of childhood, he started feeling a strange possessiveness. He couldn't let her become anybody else's.
Every time their mother looked at the twins, she saw his face reflected in theirs. All her friends joked that they would have at least as much female attention as their father. Even when she thought of it without thinking of them as her sons, she knew they were telling the truth. After all, they were his kids. Being the best was in their blood.
She had wanted him ever since a girl could want a boy that way. She watched masculinity and youth change his boyish face into one with the distinct lines of dominance. He was born to be leader. It was natural for all the girls to crave his attentions. She was the only one who had it, because she had fought for him when no one else, not even his family, would. The scars, once a symbol of weakness and incompetence, now suggested virility and endurance. She was the only reason he could even show the scars from the bear's claws and teeth; without her, he would have been left for dead.
She heard footsteps trudging into the camp. She gathered her children and ran to where the other women and children were already standing, children waiting for their brothers, women waiting for some one to keep them warm at night.
She looked for blue eyes and blond hair amongst the sea of brown, her children right beside her. He was at the front of the line. As soon as she saw him, her feet became insubordinate and ran to him. His spear clattered to the ground as his hands rose up to pull her into a passionate embrace.
She jumped into his arms, her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, and he spun her around. Passion flooded into both of them when his lips crashed onto hers. When he set her down again, he saw three little ones with the blue eyes, the blue eyes only he could claim. As soon as their mother's feet reached the ground again, the twins attached themselves onto his legs, and his daughter raised her arms to be picked up.
Laughter and smiles radiated from the family, the only one with a father in it. The rest of the children had multiple father figures but could rarely be sure exactly whose blood raced in their veins. Other males were jealous of how he had a woman who would lay with him and only him any time he wanted. Other females envied how she had the man whom every woman craved.
They were blissfully oblivious to all this.
