“I don’t think you are nearly as monstrous as you make yourself out to be.”
His eyes move over me, but he does not reply. He does not say another word. Until I am finished. When he asks me for something else. He asks me for some clothes.
It is a softly spoken request. A difficult one for him to make. I don't fight him on it. But when I return from his room, he is not happy with the selection I brought him.
A pair of black sweats and a tee shirt.
"A hoodie," he demands, his polite demeanor gone.
"No."
I cross my arms and hold my ground.
"I have seen you now. River has seen you. There is no reason for you to hide."
He glares at me.
"You would choose to look at me this way?" he sneers.
"Yes," I answer without hesitation. "I would prefer to see your face when I speak to you, Javi."
He does not believe me. He thinks it is a trick. And my heart hurts that he feels this way. I don't want to feel bad for him. I don't want to sympathize with him. But I do.
I know better than anyone what it’s like to be so critical of yourself. To believe the nasty things people say about you. I know what it’s like to feel ugly inside and out.
I know what it’s like to be a monster too.
Javi might not know it, but there is still humanity left inside of him. There is still good. And I don’t know if he deserves it, but I want to fight his demons with him. I want to prove to him once and for all that these scars don’t matter to me. That the things I say and do are not a trick as he would like to believe.
I’m not even certain what his reaction will be. Or how far I am willing to go. But I only know that it feels right when I kneel beside him on the bed and straddle his hips.
He is hard beneath me, already. His breath still and silent when he looks up at me.
I slide the strap of my tank top over my shoulder until it falls, repeating on the other side. The material pools around my waist, revealing my bra.
Javi watches me, growing in size and hardness beneath me.
I unbuckle the clasp, and it falls away. I am naked from the waist up. My breasts are heavy and tender and cold. I reach for his hands, and he lets me guide them to me. He touches me, groaning when I rock against him with my hips. There is still a barrier between us. His jocks and my panties. It feels safer this way.
And also more forbidden.
We are so close, but not quite skin to skin. It doesn’t matter to Javi. He fondles me roughly in his calloused hands. Groping my breasts and then wrenching me forward to kiss him.
His mouth is hungry, and so is mine. I drink him in. I taste him. And I move against him. It becomes frenzied. Both of us forgetting the extent of his injuries until one of his wounds reopens, and he starts to bleed again.
I move to stop. To apologize. Javi clutches my hip and forces me to keep going.
“I like it,” he tells me.
The pain. He likes the pain. It concerns me. It excites me. It makes me want to hurt him and please him all at once. But Javi is in control now. Even from the bottom. He grasps my hips and forces my movements. Using me as the warmth and friction he so badly needs.
I am a prisoner in his arms again. But I am free. Free to my sordid desires.I lean back and press my hand against his cut, applying pressure.
Too much pressure.
I give him the pain he needs. And then I pull away. His eyes darken when he sees the way his blood stains my skin.
He is feral again. Seizing my bloody palm to smear it down between my breasts, marking me with his blood. I whimper, and he comes. For what feels like forever. His body purging itself of the pain inside of him.