Sufferance

She saw the flicker in his shifting, downturned eyes when he was first given his book of command seals, and the subsequent glance he stole at her half-prepared her for what he would do. Days later, she stands in silent guard outside the bathroom door until he emerges, sweating and pale: and when he averts his eyes and tries to pull her in, she resists until he opens the seal-book sitting on the bathroom counter.

When he seals her down to her knees and clumsily pulls her dress from her body, as afraid as she is reluctant, she shuts her tired mind off and thinks of surf on the shores of the Shapeless Isle.

He talks shortly in bleating, nervous commands: heartening vaguely when she complies, but losing his bravado as soon as he has to make another decision. He doesn't know what he's doing, and she has neither encouragement nor reproach for him: simply obeying without sound or outcry.

In the end she is nude on her back, her limbs quiescent and spread as he stares bloodlessly at her and swallows hard. She moves bonelessly before his fumbling hands, his fingers clammy and fearful on her warm skin, and he whimpers like a strangled puppy when moonlight favors the curves of her body.

Her head rolls back, her eyes open and unseeing, as he crawls gingerly atop her. He has no idea of where to put his hands or head, and his body is stiff and awkward as he balances in the position he eventually settles upon. He is quivering against her skin in excitement and fear alike: conscious of what he is doing, wanting it, and yet ignorant of how to consummate.

Once, I was a goddess, she tells herself numbly as he moves ineptly between her legs, and all men sang my praise. Before this war, I was worshipped: in love and in fear. His moaned curses cut her thoughts short, her scalp pulling painfully as he works his wrist from her spilled hair, and he sobs like a butchered lamb when he climaxes.

Once he's finished, by his own clumsy estimation, he reels up to his feet and trips over himself picking up his clothes and his seal-book. He stumbles down the hallway, pulling a sleeve across his wet face, and she rolls her eyes blankly towards the half-open door.

Lying on the tile, her hair spread across the bathroom floor, she thinks that she can bear it if it spares Sakura.