Page 143 of These Tears

No, I am.

I am sickened. I am afraid. Ashamed of what this brought up in me. I want to crawl out of my own skin.

But curiosity hooks beneath my ribs and pulls and stretches and twists and rips me to shreds.

One glance, it whispers. One glance to make sense of him.

To know how undone or cruel or beautiful he looks in the act of destroying us both a little further.

My fingers tighten on the book until the cover bends.

I don’t look. I don’t give him that. I don’t give myself that.

‘Her mouth becomes a worship of its own kind,’ I force out. ‘And finally, he learnt what power tasted like when surrender was offered.’

Elias inhales sharply. And suddenly, his voice joins mine, but it’s low and ragged.

‘And she learnt too,’ he reads beside my ear. Our voices blend into lines where pride and the strain of pleasure fail us. ‘They watched the hunger bloom in each other’s eyes—’ A moan escapes him. It crashes against my neck and sends my pulse spiralling. ‘Until neither of them could pretend they were innocent of wanting.’

His breath catches as his body gives a violent shudder. His hand doesn’t stop.

Air won’t leave me either.

My mind keeps reminding me that this is an intelligent man beside me. A deeply troubled man, but… not empty. Even now, even here, there is a mind behind the monstrosity, purpose in this filth. This is not impulse – or not entirely.

I don’t hate his hand. I don’t hate his lips that keep reading alongside me. I hate that he makes need gather low in my body without my permission. That flesh can answer while every lucid thought still knows this is wrong.

I hate that I understand him.

That some terrible thing in me reacts.

‘He broke so beautifully,’ I read as his beard scrapes lightly over my neck, his body trembling softly against me. ‘His hand still fisted in her hair, his head tipped back, and the sound that left him was not pleasure alone.’

Elias goes silent.

‘She took him whole, tasted the final shudder of him and understood, with a horror that was too much to take, that release did not make monsters human. It only proved they had once been that. But now, she was his monster. And he was hers.’

Elias’ body locks around mine, shaking once, then again – harder – as if every part of him is trying to hold back something already tearing through.

His breathing turns rough and broken, dragging in heavy, helpless grunts against my neck.

And as his grip at my nape turns near-punishing, he unravels with a low, fractured sound that tears out of his lungs like desperation itself.

His fingers tighten against me, loosen – each flex weaker than the last.

I stop reading.

The book remains on my lap.

The fire burns beside us, inside us, and around us.

I remain rigid in his arms, every nerve treacherously awake after bearing blind witness to what I should have hated – and feeling pleasure answer anyway.

I can’t make out how much time passes whilst we sit close to each other, letting the ruin take hold of us both.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I catch the hand he used on himself reaching for the plate. Two glistening fingers drag through the jam. He brings them to my mouth and, without asking or waiting, pushes them between my lips.

The sweetness moves against my tongue first, the fruit stark upon it. But as Elias’ breathing begins to slow against me, his eyes intent on my mouth… something changes.