Trigger warning; mention of self-harm

* * *

“What are you doing? I want it to hurt!” My chin jerked upward as the black-clawed hand wrapped around my neck. Still too gentle.

“You know I can’t hurt you, baby. I can’t.” His breath shook as his fingers twitched around my flesh. Tears burned his eyes as he glanced down at my injured arm again. It didn’t matter that his body was tense beneath me as I straddled him, my long brown hair hovering over his legs. It wasn’t important that he longed for me as I tightened my thighs around his waist. None of it came through in his expressions or his energy as he looked back into my eyes.

They’d gone dark as I looked down at him from over my chin, pleading with him to squeeze. “Please. Take my breath away.”

He swallowed audibly and his free hand grasped the black comforter. He was at my mercy and trapped beneath me — he wasn’t moving until he fulfilled my desire. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to keep his composure. “I don’t want to hurt you, baby boy. You’ve already hurt yourself.”

My arm burned fresh at the recent memory. Just moments ago I’d broken the skin until my hand went cold — stained my flesh red. I glared down at my love, teeth clenched tight as my heart raced. “Choke. Me.

He shook his head and released me. I slid back as he leaped forward and wrapped his arms around me, the need in him still seeping from his pores. It was always like this. “I love you.” Tears finally caressed his pale skin. “I love you.”

I squeezed him tight as my nails dug into his back. He didn’t flinch or make a sound other than to give a voice to his tears. The intensity of my soul refused to be quelled. Pain. I wanted it. And I knew he was safe. “I love you, too.” I melted into my sadness and unclenched my fingers. Raised red tracks formed on his shoulder blades.

Lace. It surrounded us as the curtains around our bed swayed from the light breeze. His breath on my lips had the power to heal.

The room was dark — black and white and silent. A powerful ringing invaded my head and I heard the whispers of winter just beyond the black curtains. The cold. I had lost something out there in the cold so long ago, and I feared I would never get it back.

It’s out there. In the snow.

©2020 Shane Blackheart


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