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“Today and tonight were intense, baby. Are you okay?”
I nod. “I think so. Thank you for checking.”
“Always, I need to make sure you’re always in the right head space and physical space after we get like that.” He kisses my shoulder, and that feeling in my stomach comes back.
My heart even skips a fucking beat, and I get so angry with myself. No. Please, no. I almost want to cry, pissed that I’m even thinking like this right now. If he knew I was even thinking about having feelings outside the sexual nature for him, he would run and never talk to me again.
“What are you thinking?” he interrupts my thoughts, thank God. Except he asks me about those damn thoughts. I try to come up with something quick.
“Were you always into sex like this? Darker stuff?”
“At first, no, but as I got older, my tastes changed.”
“I feel like there is always a reason people are the way they are, why they crave darker sides of things.”
I can feel him smiling behind me. “People can have particular tastes without having to go through things. I like control, and I like to use it to fuck. It’s just who I am.” He may be the simplest man, yet it makes him so much more complicated. It feels like there are secrets he’s drowning in and doesn’t want to share. There has to be more to him than he is leading on. Maybe there is a wall so high that I need to find out how to climb over it.
What happens if I do? Would this make him capable of feeling more for someone? Could it make him love? Or is he really just simply programed this way, and I’m projecting my own life struggles and the way they made me the way I am?
Most likely the latter.
“Hanna, you didn’t have enemies back home, did you?” His question is so left field.
“Why are you asking me this? I told you no. I had no one and nothing. This is the most social I’ve been in my life.” Really, why is he asking this again?
“Turn and face me.”
I do as he asks, and now face to face, he cups mine, and I lean into it, pretending his aftercare is genuine affection.
“You seem too kind to have someone find you and follow you here. Was there ever someone who had it out for you for any reason?”
Now, I’m really confused. “Theo, why does this matter?”
He rubs his hand over his lips and jaw, looking out the window next to his bathtub.
“Ever since the break-in and all you told me, I can’t help but think that someone is after you, and I want to keep you safe.”
He cares. He does. That is care. That’s respect. He may not admit it, but that is him opening up and letting me in just a little.
“Enemies is a word I would never be able to associate with any experience in my life. I never hurt anyone, would never want to, emotionally or physically. Even though the world hurt me, I would never bite back. I would never want someone to feel what I did. Pain like that isn’t something I would wish on anyone, even if I had an enemy,” I admit.
“Your parents? You think they were trying to find you?” Dropping my eyes, I shake my head. I can’t go there. My wounds from my parents will never close. I’m convinced.
“They would never want to find me. Ever. If they could leave me as a child, why would they ever want to know or be in my life as an adult? If you could abandon your child, you could never love them as an adult. Those things could not exist.” These words burn my throat. They stab my chest, right in my heart. I should hate my parents. Their choices should not hurt me anymore, but they do.
Some wounds can dry and close. But they don’t always mend. The skin may remain tender to the touch. And when I think of my parents, or talk about them, their lack of love is a tender-to-touch pain I will never forget. I will never mend fully. An ache will always linger. Always.
“Hey, we don’t have to talk about it. I just wanted to cross all my T’s. I don’t want anything to happen to you, and if we can keep you safe, that’s all I want.”
I shake my head. “Sounds a lot like you care for me. Careful, you might just fall in love, Theo, and then who will eat their words?” I’m only teasing, but when he doesn’t respond, I look up, and he is looking at me intensely.
“What?”
“Nothing. If I ever fall in love, you can make me eat my words. Just like I made you eat yours. You can feed me your beautiful cunt.” The look that was there just moments ago fades, and it’s replaced with a playful Theo. Maybe we are both forgetting this is just aftercare and respect.
