His room had become a cell of his own making. He didn't even know the girl wrapped around him. They came in shifts. A new one every couple of days. They comforted. The fed. They held him
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Pinpointing just inside the door, her eyes catch sight of and gaze at the figure on the bed, lying curled up and facing away from her. Aching, wanting just to be near him again she turns, quietly locks the door from the inside.
Stepping close to the bed she pulls off her shirt, lets it drop on the chair. Her heart breaking, and a lead ball win her stomach she silently gets on the bed, curls up behind him. Taking an arm, slipping it over his side she spoons in close.
Feeling the familiar sting in her eyes, trying not to cry she holds him. She leans in, kisses the back of his head, those golden locks she had missed for so long. Softly she whispers out his name.
She was back. The next round. The next girl. Not even raising his head. It didn't matter. They were all the same. This one more gentle. Kinder seeming than some. Holding him tenderly. So intimately. Smelling like lemon and...'
Blinking, head snapping up as he tried not to spin over.
"Leela... My...'
Whimpering, bowing his head. Knowing how ashen he looked, how sick. He'd seen it on Jean-Claude's face. He knew.
"You should have called, My Lady. I would have had a meal brought in. At least a bottle of wine." Trying to sound calm, formal, like himself when he felt like anything but.
"Could have, didn't want to. Not another day, or another minute. Not even time for the phone. And I'm not hungry, not thirsty either."
She tightens her arm a bit, rubs her cheek along the back of his shirt. The lace felt rough against her face, and she kissed through the fabric to the skin on the other side.
Comments 27
Stepping close to the bed she pulls off her shirt, lets it drop on the chair. Her heart breaking, and a lead ball win her stomach she silently gets on the bed, curls up behind him. Taking an arm, slipping it over his side she spoons in close.
Feeling the familiar sting in her eyes, trying not to cry she holds him. She leans in, kisses the back of his head, those golden locks she had missed for so long. Softly she whispers out his name.
"Asher? Beloved..."
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Blinking, head snapping up as he tried not to spin over.
"Leela... My...'
Whimpering, bowing his head. Knowing how ashen he looked, how sick. He'd seen it on Jean-Claude's face. He knew.
"You should have called, My Lady. I would have had a meal brought in. At least a bottle of wine." Trying to sound calm, formal, like himself when he felt like anything but.
Reply
She tightens her arm a bit, rubs her cheek along the back of his shirt. The lace felt rough against her face, and she kissed through the fabric to the skin on the other side.
"Missed you. Couldn't wait any more. Forgive me?"
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"There is nothing to forgive, ma petite. You are here. And that is what matters.'
Sighing out the words, squeezing her tighter, almost as if forgetting she needed to breath.
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