molly
she/her
31
october 16
elsewhere
pansexual / aro
functioning sociopath
<redacted>
snake-eyed with a sly smile
UNDONE
POSTED ON Nov 9, 2021 4:34:35 GMT
there are things she must ask him. she lies awake at night, slender fingers fisted in her satin sheets, surrounded by pillows. she breathes hard, heavily, touching the no-longer-there marks upon her neck, reliving the bath like she's snapping at a dream. like if she can bring her back to her peak, she'll remember.
but she ends up panting and frustrated and oh, so very alone. he's busy and it doesn't bother her, but it does, but it shouldn't, but why not? the secrets are in that haze, in that mist she can't collect. only consume.
it's at a wan hour of the morn, where she's bare in front of her mirror, washing the nightmares from her skin, as though that will let her rest. normally, she would give up, reach for her pack of cigarettes and don her robe, make her way to her terrace and watch the sky lighten and the sun come up.
except her phone buzzes on her nightstand. she touches her lips; she pulls on stockings and boots, an overcoat, keeping the silk robe the only true thing covering her bodice (and that, barely).
it doesn't take long for her to arrive. her key card works. she's thought of trying it when he's not here, but the drive, the thought slips away before - he needs me.
it carries her through his threshold. she shrugs off the coat and recognizes the look on his face. her breath hitches, eyes narrow, going to the spot on his arm.
not her spawn - not the hungry, mewling thing that beats against its cage. but part of it. irrevocably part of it, part of him. part of her. she shivers.
"you called for me, my love?" she says, voice hushed.
|
|