couples_therapy 65.1. When did you know you were in love?
When she woke up. Or maybe when he leaned to kiss her and his lips blistered with the burn of her touch. Somewhere.
She didn't know it was love before that, because it wasn't allowed to be love. Love was the greatest bane in the homes she resided. The poison that they could not defend against. And she didn't want to be poison.
What she was for Thomas... it was never love. Ever. His doe, one of the kine that he'd claimed for himself. His prey. His food, and in the heat of passion, in the heat of feeding, words baser, harsher, hungrier, more carnal. His names for him sometimes bordered on adoration (but that was the way he controlled her, wasn't it?) and sometimes as little on poetry as his. Just pleasure, her body and mind tangled in a single knot of lust, one that had more than most. Just for him.
But that was all. Lust. Desire. Prey.
Until the night they brought him in with that shot, and she knew what was expected of her. And she thought she knew it was love then. When she chose to die for him.
And it was worse than any time before, because he was there, but he was trapped inside that body she knew so well, trapped by a demon that kept him alive, but wouldn't for too long if it wasn't fed, and she was food.
And it was more mind-blowingly amazing than any time before, because the demon knew no restraints, it fed and sensual, intense, unequaled pleasure ripped through her body and soul. Ripped out her life and soul.
She knew that Harry would tell him. The words would do no harm if she wasn't there to risk being poison for him thus.
Darkness.
She was wrong.
She woke up. That didn't make sense - except that she had failed. If she was alive, then so he wasn't.
She didn't want to be alive. Not without him. (No, it was not her weakness, the fatigue which blanketed all with a milky-white fog, the lack of anything to help her move, to stop the dull, impossible ache that was her body, or her mind, she knew not. It wasn't why she didn't want to live.)
And then they moved her. Slowly, words floated in through the emptiness that she wanted to sink back into. It hurt to be sat up.
He is alive. Which way is he?
He was alive? That tore through the blanketing void, straight to what was left of her. And then she sought him.
There.
Then she knew.
She knew that she would live, if he did.
She knew she loved.
Because even more than dying for him would have meant... Living for him - that was love.
Muse: Justine
Fandom: The Dresden Files (novels)
Partner: Thomas Raith (canon)
Word count: ~ 460
She didn't know it was love before that, because it wasn't allowed to be love. Love was the greatest bane in the homes she resided. The poison that they could not defend against. And she didn't want to be poison.
What she was for Thomas... it was never love. Ever. His doe, one of the kine that he'd claimed for himself. His prey. His food, and in the heat of passion, in the heat of feeding, words baser, harsher, hungrier, more carnal. His names for him sometimes bordered on adoration (but that was the way he controlled her, wasn't it?) and sometimes as little on poetry as his. Just pleasure, her body and mind tangled in a single knot of lust, one that had more than most. Just for him.
But that was all. Lust. Desire. Prey.
Until the night they brought him in with that shot, and she knew what was expected of her. And she thought she knew it was love then. When she chose to die for him.
And it was worse than any time before, because he was there, but he was trapped inside that body she knew so well, trapped by a demon that kept him alive, but wouldn't for too long if it wasn't fed, and she was food.
And it was more mind-blowingly amazing than any time before, because the demon knew no restraints, it fed and sensual, intense, unequaled pleasure ripped through her body and soul. Ripped out her life and soul.
She knew that Harry would tell him. The words would do no harm if she wasn't there to risk being poison for him thus.
Darkness.
She was wrong.
She woke up. That didn't make sense - except that she had failed. If she was alive, then so he wasn't.
She didn't want to be alive. Not without him. (No, it was not her weakness, the fatigue which blanketed all with a milky-white fog, the lack of anything to help her move, to stop the dull, impossible ache that was her body, or her mind, she knew not. It wasn't why she didn't want to live.)
And then they moved her. Slowly, words floated in through the emptiness that she wanted to sink back into. It hurt to be sat up.
He is alive. Which way is he?
He was alive? That tore through the blanketing void, straight to what was left of her. And then she sought him.
There.
Then she knew.
She knew that she would live, if he did.
She knew she loved.
Because even more than dying for him would have meant... Living for him - that was love.
Muse: Justine
Fandom: The Dresden Files (novels)
Partner: Thomas Raith (canon)
Word count: ~ 460