Wicked deceit

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«I am yours»

He held me as I sobbed against his chest, as my tears blended with the drops of water cascading down his skin. He held me for the longest time, so long that he was forced to turn off the luke warm water before it turned icy cold. He held me without judgement, no words of spite nor malice leaving his lips. He just stood there soaking up my torment. He did not show any bitterness that my anguish and tears was due to him I branding me as his, he just accepted it, as he accepted all of me.

«Love.» His velvet voice was gentle against my ear as he tried to coax me out of my numbed state.

My tears had dried together with the water which had previously soaked our skin. His right hand continued to draw slow lazy circles against my back, comforting me.

«We should get dressed now, and then go prepare some dinner.» I let him guide me out of the shower, his right hand still warm against the flesh of my back.

He left me standing in front of the dresser as he put on his own clothes. I made no move to find any clothes myself. I just stared straight ahead at nothing. I didnt care anymore, I just couldnt muster up the energy to care about my own undressed state. What was the point anyways, its not like putting a barrier of fabric between us would actually change anything. The material would do nothing to diminish his hold over me, it would not keep me safe from him. Putting on the clothes which he had bought for me would only solidify his ownership. It would feel like a dog collar, constricting, choking. I didnt actully fancy the thought of going around naked, but I could not for the life of me find the strenght to open the damned dresser either.

I felt him at my back for a few seconds, his hands lingered at my sides, so close but never actually touching. I only felt the heat from his hands as it radiated off of his flesh and pressed itself against my own freezing skin. He moved around me, and opened the second drawer as if it was nothing. What had cost me so much energy in contemplation alone was nothing to him, not a speck of energy drained from his soul.

I stared straight ahead as he started to pull something out of the second drawer, my eyes seeing and yet blind at the same time. My eyes took in his broad shoulders and the muscles moving underneath his black shirt, my mind did not. A pair of black socks appered on top of the dresser, and my eyes watched as his hand plunged back in, fishing for something else. I couldnt care less. I didnt care about the black socks or what other items he was gathering, nor about my own cold body trembling, as goosebumbs trailed along my icy flesh.

His hand came into view again, a white piece of fabric dangled from his index finger. The purity of it sparked something inside of me. My eyes narrowed as my brain started to focus on the sheer white fabric. Something clicked inside, as my brain finaly realized what my eyes were actually seeing.

Fuck no!

The small spark inside, ignited me, it made me burn with fury. The self pity, the numbness, the dark place I had wallowed in, fell away before fierce flames which burned throughout every cell of my being.

"Fuck no!" The words crashed against his back, as I leaped forward and ripped the trashy lingerie from his hand.

His towering form tensed for a few heartbeat before he decided to even dignify my outburst with an answer.

"Language love." He turned slowly, an unreadable expression plastered to his handsome mask.

"Fuck language! Fuck this!" I roared at him, my rage burning away all common sense as I thrust the white fabric in front of his face.

"I WILL NOT BE WEARING THIS.... THIS.... THIS THING!" I shrieked at the imposing assassin in front of me, my head tilted back to give my searing eyes a better view of his hardened face.

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