The moment she told him, "Take your shirt off", he knew he wasn't going to be able to say no. Too much time had been wasted avoiding her the past few days and he was waiting for her, waiting for her to give him permission to take things one step further. He had hurt her and he wasn't sure whether she was ready or not. He did just as she told him and shook his hair out slowly as she watched him in amazement, like she was waiting for something to happen.
"Sit up," she said as he pulled her up with him slowly and agonizingly until they were both sitting among the blanket. She was sitting in his lap now, looking directly into his eyes. He took a breath and reached for her shirt, only for them to be pushed to his sides and her hands were on his chest. Once her fingers touched him, his brain went into overdrive. She didn't know how much that excited him, how much that made him lose his mind, how much he loved the feel of her fingers moving down his chest. He felt her tracing the Marks of his runes on his shoulders, her fingering down the line between his pectoral muscles and across his stomach. His brain wasn't thinking anymore, all he wanted was the touch of her fingers on him and nothing else mattered. His breathing became more ragged as she took her time, tracing up and down the length of his body. He watched the expression in her eyes, saw the twinkle in her green eyes and then he closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her fingertips against his skin.
When she reached the buckle on his jeans, she paused and he opened his eyes. She looked back at him, breathing harder than before, waiting. By that time, any ounce of self-control was already gone, he didn't even think of stopping her or doing anything else. And then as though she understood him, she dropped her hands to the hem of her shirt and pulled it off. He took in a deep breath, his heart was racing so quickly that if he didn't, he felt as if he would faint from the lack of oxygen. His lips parted as he took in the sight of her, only in her bra and panties. He felt his stomach clench as he struggled to maintain some sense of sanity. All he could think of was her and how she would feel like against him- how soft she would be and how she fit just right against him.
She reached over and put his hands on her waist. And then something snapped. His mouth came down on hers and they were kissing again. Much fiercer than before, with much more passion than before. All the pent-up emotions from the past few days rushed to the surface and he was kissing like she was going to disappear from his arms if he let her go too soon. He could feel a hot and fast-burning fire spreading from his lips to the rest of his body and every nerve ending tingled so badly that he wanted more. His hands moved from her cheeks, to her hair to her body, as he pulled down so that she lay under him. The moment his bare skin grazed hers, the fire in his body burned with much more intensity and heat. He wanted to keep on touching her and hold her in his arms for as long as he could. Every fibre of him ached for her, ached for her kisses and the feel of her bare skin against his.
His hands found the clasp of her bra and he felt her tense up. The sides of his mouth curled up slowly. "Is this all right?" he asked.
She nodded her head. But at the back of his mind, he vaguely remembered that there was something he had to do. It was so important that he moved his hands and cupped her face with one hand, his lips brushing against her gently as he tried to recall what he had forgotten. Is it protection? He asked himself. A small voice in his head replied him, saying it wasn't. He took his time with her as he sifted through his memory for that one important thing, teasing her with his lips and his fingers lingering along her shoulder, her neck and anywhere he could touch.
A faint glimmer at the corner of his eye caught his attention. It triggered something in his memory and he reached backward to get it without breaking his contact with her. At that point, a voice was whispering in his head, Skin against skin isn't enough. You need to be even closer to her. He couldn't think of anything else, except the knife in his hand and the faint chanting in his head. He did the next thing he knew- he pressed the knife to her elbow and cut all the way down to her wrist, drawing a thin line of blood as the knife moved slowly but surely and almost methodically. He didn't feel anything at all, as if his whole body was numb and unfeeling. He didn't see the shocked expression on her face as the knife cut her. All he could focus on was the knife and the blood that appeared. Strangely, he felt at ease, as if a heavy burden was lifted off him. As if all this time he had been wandering around lost and now he could finally breathe.
Her gasp of pain jolted him from that strange sense of ease and he jumped away from her by instinct. It was only then he looked at the knife he was holding in his hand and her pressing down on the wound. All colour drained from his face as he realized what he had done. The memory of his nightmares came flooding back to him, all the blood draining from her as her life faded away with each drop of blood, the bloodstained knife in his hand, her lifeless green eyes wide open and looking at him and the strange feeling of ease and euphoria. It was all too much for him to bear. It wasn't a nightmare now, it was real. He had hurt her, even after he had swore never to hurt, even after how he tried to protect her. He wanted to run away, he wanted to never let her see him again. But he was too much of a coward. The tears finally came, those tears that he couldn't cry out night after night as the nightmare repeated itself over and over and over again. The hollow feeling he felt after waking up each time was gone, and now despair filled that void. He dropped the knife, disgusted with himself and sank to the floor. Head in his hands, he wept silently for himself, for her and for everything else.