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Nothing about it feels sensible. It’s only a matter of time before the pain ricochets and pulls her back into the dark.
But Ted’s eyes are on her, burning into her skin, his throat thick with sorrow and something too close to pity, and she knows he won’t stop her. Won’t tell her no when she pulls at his shoulders, her hold on him tight enough to bruise.
“I need you to fuck me,” she tells him.
Ted's face falls. “Rebecca– ”
“I need this, Ted. Please, can you just– ” Her voice cracks, tearing up her throat like a knife. “Please, love. I just- I need you. I need to feel you.”
She closes her eyes on his despair, her hold rigid, unyielding, until she feels him relent, his body shifting against hers.
The soft press of his lips feels like a breath of fresh air inside her lungs, the way his hands glide over her skin, like a desperate reprieve. She welcomes the ache when their bodies eclipse, the painful tilt of Ted’s hips that has her groaning at the stretch of him inside her. The heady darkness in his eyes seems to swallow her whole, her body turning molten beneath his hands, and for a moment, the world around them just...ceases to exist.
There’s no one else but Ted, the weight of his lips against her skin, his body pressed against hers keeping her tethered.
But it doesn’t last long.
Not long enough to bury the ghost of another man’s touch.
“More,” she moans. “I need more, Ted, please– ”
“I’m tryin’, baby,” he breathes, leaning down to press his lips into her chest.
His teeth nip gingerly. Not hard enough to hurt. Not hard enough to forget the fear holding her captive, her body frozen beneath a gaze that felt ravenous and terrifying and–
There’s nothing she can do to stop the hands groping at her waist.
“Don’t you look just good enough to eat?” The man says. The man whose name she doesn’t know, whose hands don’t belong on her skin.
“Don’t,” she shakes her head, her voice trembling. “Don't fucking touch me.”
Her palms press against his chest; forceful and fruitless. His leering smile makes her stomach turn. The hand squeezing tightly around her breast has her knee jutting sharply into his groin. But still, she can’t stop him. Can’t stop his hand reaching down toward the hem of her skirt–
“Rebecca.”
Ted’s eyes are on her, wide and afraid, and he’s not fucking her anymore. Not touching her, and she needs it to be his hands on her body instead of somebody else.
“Keep going,” she tells him.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea, sweetheart.” Ted blinks at her, his eyes full of good intentions. But she doesn’t want any of them. “We can take it slower– ”
“I said I wanted you to fuck me. So fuck me.”
She loops her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the hard length of him pressing against her thigh when she kisses him. Her tongue forces open the seam of his mouth, searching for more than the tightness in her chest, more than the bruise on her breast in the shape of a thumbprint that makes her stomach revolt like a storm.
“I need more, Ted– ”
“Okay, okay. I’ve got you, baby.”
His cock slides back inside her, pumping faster, his hands warm on her skin instead of cold, his gaze so gentle and kind that she has to close her eyes again to fight against the tears she can barely hold onto.
With a hand on his neck, she guides his mouth back to her chest, his lips pliant and eager and wonderful, and she pulls on the sensation like the fading wisp of a dream; it's almost tangible enough to feel real. To pretend, beneath his touch, that everything's still the way it was before.
But it's still not enough to forget those hands, the way they felt like ice against her skin.
“Harder,” she tells him. “Please, Ted. I need– ”
She hates the way her voice breaks. Hates how fragile she feels beneath Ted’s hands. Hands that spent years building her up, making her feel strong and confident and beautiful, and now…it all feels too far away. A distant memory, even though it was only yesterday, her whole life ruined in a handful of minutes. More than Rupert had managed in twelve years.
“I- I want your mark on me,” she forces out, her throat thick with the confession. “I want to feel you. I need to feel you.”
The exquisite pain of Ted’s teeth piercing her skin has her body arching, Ted's eyes shining into hers like the sun cresting the sky, and for a moment, one blissful moment, it feels like flying.
If only she could forget what it felt like to fall.
Her knees buckle beneath her. Reaching out to break her fall, the skin of her palms collides with the pavement. But she can’t feel anything at all. Can’t feel the rain on her skin, the mud soaking into her clothes.
Her vision blurs like she’s still falling.
Desperation claws up her spine as she fumbles for something to hold, something to stop the ground from shifting beneath her.
And then she hears it.
“Don’t you dare touch her again– ”
She knows that voice. Knows it doesn’t belong here, in the dark and the cold. There’s too much safety in it for the way her heart’s still racing.
“Rebecca... Honey, you’re safe now. He’s gone…You’re safe.”
“Ted?”
“What is it, sweetheart?”
It isn’t raining anymore.
When she looks around, they’re inside, in her house, on her bed with its soft satin sheets. But her face feels damp, her body’s still shaking, like maybe she never left at all.
“Is it over?”
Ted’s brow furrows, his hands careful on her skin as the weight of his body leaves hers. “Is what over?”
Shame burns hot against her cheeks as reality sets in. “Sorry, I- ” Her breath hitches. “Sorry, I- I was... distracted.” Rebecca shakes her head, fighting the past for precedence. “You- we can carry on now.”
She reaches down hastily, her hand brushing over the smooth curve of his stomach and down between his thighs before a quiet pressure on her wrist makes her falter.
“You- you don’t have to do that, baby,” Ted blinks. “It’s okay.”
There’s only kindness in the delicate touch of his hands. Only love in the solid weight of his gaze. But it still hurts. Hurts more than the throbbing pain on her chest. More than the graze on her palms that still hasn’t healed. More than the twisted smirk of a man who took a piece of her soul without ever asking for permission.
Nothing, though, hurts more than the shine in Ted’s eyes, the tears on his cheeks, the agony lining his face, reflecting hers like the moon on dark water.
“I- I’m sorry, Ted. I didn’t- I’m sorry– ”
“There’s nothin’ to be sorry for, alright?” He tries to smile, a broken, watery thing. “Nothin’ at all.”
Her heart fissures, a heaving sob on her lips that she can’t hold onto.
“I’m so sorry– ”
He steals the next apology from her lips with a kiss so desperately tender that she can’t breathe from its earnestness.
“I’m here, darlin’,” he whispers against her mouth. “I’m here... I’m not goin’ anywhere, okay?”
There’s no space between them. Nowhere left to pretend. They both know things won't ever be the same. Not now there’s another voice in her head. Another shadow sewn into the seam of her already battered heart.
But if there’s one thing that never seems to change, it’s the love pouring out of the man lying beside her. Unflinching in its intensity. Undeterred by her tears or the way she’s gasping for breath.
The man who’s held captive in the past just as readily. The man whose mouth tastes like salt, whose arms feel like safety.
The man who holds her, smoothing comfort into her skin, until her tears dry and exhaustion lulls her into oblivion.
The same man who’ll bring her toast and tea in the morning, burying kisses into her skin until her face finally softens, and the smile on her lips becomes real.