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She smells coppery, but her tongue tastes of the acidity of green apples. Her hair feels wet and clumpy with all the blood stuck in her strands, but it only makes me fist it harder.
I only pull away for a split second, my lips grazing hers, barely able to resist the temptation. “You’re so brave,” I whisper. “So fucking brave.”
“I love you,” she murmurs. Her hands come to fist my shirt and she looks up at me. “I love you, Ethan.”
“I love you too, baby.”
“A pet bunny, huh?” Elliot cuts in, making us all burst into laughter.
40
ELLIOT
I’m Not Okay (I promise) - My Chemical Romance
“Settle down, will you?” I grab Jade by the waist and pull her back to the edge of the bed.
She’s sitting cross-legged, her back to the edge, and I’m standing behind her, brushing her hair after her shower.
“It hurts,” she whines.
“I used the entire fucking bottle of conditioner. How can it hurt?”
I think I’m developing a showering kink. Is that a thing? I’m incapable of letting Jade shower on her own anymore. It’s become something we do just the two of us, where Ethan doesn’t care to join us, and I fucking love it.
I love lathering her in soap, rubbing, massaging every inch of her skin. I love washing her wild hair, making sure to cover every strand in conditioner. I like tickling her while we let it sit.
And I love…oh I fucking love making her come with the shower jet.
She’s still flushed from it right now, squirming on the spot.
“Ow!” She slaps my hand before tightening the towel around her.
“That’s about enough, young lady.”
“You’re a year older than me,” she throws back, deadpan.
“Which makes you younger. You know it’s a fucking mess in the morning when you don’t brush it after your shower. I’m not spending tomorrow morning listening to you scream at your hairbrush and throw it across the room.”
She juts her chin higher. “You don’t have long hair. You don’t know the frustration it is when it doesn’t do what you tell it to.”
“Jade…you called the hairbrush and its entire family a cunt. Hairbrushes don’t have families, baby.”
“It’s very frustrating,” she insists.
“Hence why if we brush it now, tomorrow will be easier. Come on now.” I grab thick strands, brushing more of the tips, but the second I get to the roots, she slaps my hand away again.
“It hurts!”
I roll my eyes, grab both her wrists, and pin them to the small of her back. With my other hand, I undo the towel and let it fall to her waist. I slap each breast once with the back of the brush, making her gasp.
“What the…”
“How was that? Which one hurts more?”
She squirms, and a smile spreads on my lips. “Oh…you liked it. Look up at me.”
“I didn’t like it,” she lies as she meets my gaze, but her eyes say something else.
