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The sound of water penetrated her pleasure induced haze first.
She stood alone, despite him still being inside her. Her body had been sated but she could still feel something hungry gnawing inside her, trying to claw out and find satisfaction. She kept tamping it down. Would it ever be enough? Would anything ever be enough?
It was as he slipped out of her, as her heart stuttered to a quieter beat, that she realized the water had gone cold, flowing against her back because of the space between their bodies.
Acutely aware of him behind her, Morana remained standing the way she was, not moving, not turning, not certain she wanted to face him at that moment. This had been the first time they’d been together physically just with themselves, no external factors into play, and it had been just as removed, if not more. It made something inside her chest feel tight before she shook it off and agreed. Distance was needed.
She opened her eyes, only to see those hands, clenched into fists against the wall – tight fists that made his arms shake.
“Why?”
One word.
Guttural.
Spoken in that low voice. The voice that shook. Asked so, so many questions in that one word. She understood some of them.
Why had she not sold him out when she’d had the chance? Why was she still not out of his system? Why was this mad lust not sated despite their bodies having found completion? Why had she followed him? Why…
There were many other questions in there, questions she didn’t understand, questions she was certain he wasn’t even aware he’d asked.
Why?
Why was this happening? Why did she feel this connection to the one man she should run away from? Why did he make her so alive when he’d told her he wanted her dead? Why hadn’t he killed her yet?
Why?
Why?
Morana looked at his fists, swallowing down the sudden wave of emotions inside her, and replied softly, with one word.
“Why?”
Silence.
For long, long moments, she felt nothing but his breaths at her back, saw nothing but his hands beside hers, so close yet so far.
And then suddenly, he pulled back his hand and punched the wall above her hand, hard.
“God damn it!”
Morana stood utterly still, stunned at the way he went at it.
Once, twice, thrice.
“Fuck!”
Such utter frustration bled from his voice. Such pain.
He kept cursing until she heard nothing but foul words. Pained words. Aggravated words.
He kept punching the wall until his knuckles cracked until the wall dented and plaster became smudged with red.
And through it all, through that entire display of rage, he never touched her, not once.
Despite her answer having triggere
d this, despite his desire to kill her, she remained untouched.
