A Piece of The Sun

11. Safe Place

Author POV

Jean had faced the harsh realities of detoxing since she had awakened. She had experienced it all: Chills, cold sweats, fever, loss of balance, confusion, temperament crisis, the shakes, and a bloody nose to top it all off. She wouldn't have done it without Noah by her side, helping her come down and reassuring her of her safety at the cabin. She was on a diet of lemon-ginger mushroom green tea every eight hours and soup every five hours to keep her warm outside of the comfort of her electric blanket, save to say, Noah's body was no comfort to her overcoming the cold she felt inside and out.

He felt worthless and helpless watching the girl he loved freeze from the inside out. This had been nothing like what the marketkeeper had warned him about, it was far worse than his expectations. He'd followed his instructions to a perfect tee, nourishing her with water and sweet words but nothing could prepare him for this. 

All the while, she had been desperate to remember what went through her mind under the influence, each time she drew a blank and he saw that. So she sat there with him, trembling, purring like some raspy near-death cat in the corner, her expression bewildered by the heat and severe cold colliding inside of her, a wheeze passing her lips every now and again. 

Noah put the soup back where he found it. "There is no need in trying to find out why you did what you did or about controlling yourself." Noah objects. 

He had thought of a time when he had felt embarrassed like she had. The time when he walked in on his mothers making love together and not just that, it wasn't the average sex walk-in, of course, not with those two. He could never take back what he had seen, only to recognize it as an older boy as pure love that only they knew how to express. Still, embarrassing the days following up.

Some addictions and situations were like this: embarrassing and they could only be helped by a compassionate hand and eye. Noah had those for Jean, just as all three of his moms did for him. He watched Jean puke, piss herself, scream, and clobber food straight from his hands and still loved her. He would go on for all his days to think she is God's gift to the world. His world.

"B-b-b-But I feel so helpless. I feel aw-awful." She stammers, admitting. If she had seen herself under the influence, she would have killed herself out of sheer desperation and mercy to end what had ever been witnessed. She didn't need to know the severity of the details, she wanted to. 

"You're still detoxing. At one point I wanted to tie you to the bed and had thought of other ways to make you recognize me," Noah said.

"Oh yeah, like what?" She challenged, raising a devious red brow, and coughed. 

Not hot, Jean. She thought. 

Noah gulped, unable to turn a shade of red through his blue skin. No point in lying and she asked anyway. "I'm just talking shit,"

"Out with it," Jean hissed.

"I would have tied you down to the bed, your wrists and ankles pulled apart, legs open. I would have tried to kiss you on the lips, tell you that you're safe, kiss your neck, run my fingers down your stomach, rub your clit just ever so slightly, and finger you. My fingers knuckle-deep in your g-spot, triggering an orgasm and hoping that orgasm would bring you back to me, but hey, what would I know? I'm not my father. I don't touch women without consent and what I did back there when you were coming to, I-I'm sorry," He apologized. "It was wrong."

 Noah's mind reached back to the moment Jean came to and he had rutted against her, animal and all. He wanted more, abashedly, desperately. He was turning different corners that weren't all good, inside of his head.