She had beaten him again.
He always felt guilty afterwards, even when the heaviness had subsided from his limbs and the thick, liquid pleasure was gone. His dignity was sprained. And that was what Daniel was: cool, unruffled dignity, in perfect complement and contrast to Isaiah's passionate, almost childishly trusting nature.
Almost sulkily he padded into the sumptuous bathroom, turning the shower up to its highest, hottest setting. With resolve, he stepped into it, hissing discomfort as the heat washed over his exposed skin, but feeling as though the blistering sensation was cleansing him of the sweat and blood shed. It was almost a ritual for Daniel; when she would do such acts, he would shower under the hottest spray he could handle for the longest time he possibly could.
He leaned against the shower wall, feeling the cool porcelain against his water-heated, flushed cheek. His body gave a last tremble before it gave up, and he shivered violently, disgusted. Hefting the bar of soap in one hand and a wash towel in the other, he cleaned himself thoroughly, scrubbing his skin red.
Finally he sank to a crouch, his slick, soaked shoulder sliding against the cold tile, his wet hair fluttering around his face. Daniel didn't remember the other times to have been so bad. The guilt wouldn't recede, no matter how much he hated her.
After a moment, he stood, turning off the blistering flow with a wrench to the knob. On a whim, he looked into the mirror and was almost frightened by what he saw.
A nubile boy, with dark-blond hair that trailed down his slightly- long neck, tall and pale. Normalcy in the highest, for him. But his eyes... normally depthless, almost painted, Michelangelo eyes, were deep and vulnerable, indigo and afire with shame and guilt. Damn Lorelei!
Then he saw his twin behind him, his eyes wide and frightened, his hands trembling as he reached out. Tears gathered in his eyes, tangling in his lashes. Isaiah suddenly surrounded him in a world of comfort, whispering soft reassurances. "I'm so sorry, Daniel... I swear, I never knew." His eyes were wide and frightened.
Daniel leaned limply upon his younger twin, weeping painful, translucent tears onto his shoulder. His sadness poured out in great waves over them both. Time became their staunch ally, as Daniel wished every moment that this instant in safe happiness would never end.
"We'll find some way to get out of here," Isaiah promised, his eyes fierce. "Somehow!"
He always felt guilty afterwards, even when the heaviness had subsided from his limbs and the thick, liquid pleasure was gone. His dignity was sprained. And that was what Daniel was: cool, unruffled dignity, in perfect complement and contrast to Isaiah's passionate, almost childishly trusting nature.
Almost sulkily he padded into the sumptuous bathroom, turning the shower up to its highest, hottest setting. With resolve, he stepped into it, hissing discomfort as the heat washed over his exposed skin, but feeling as though the blistering sensation was cleansing him of the sweat and blood shed. It was almost a ritual for Daniel; when she would do such acts, he would shower under the hottest spray he could handle for the longest time he possibly could.
He leaned against the shower wall, feeling the cool porcelain against his water-heated, flushed cheek. His body gave a last tremble before it gave up, and he shivered violently, disgusted. Hefting the bar of soap in one hand and a wash towel in the other, he cleaned himself thoroughly, scrubbing his skin red.
Finally he sank to a crouch, his slick, soaked shoulder sliding against the cold tile, his wet hair fluttering around his face. Daniel didn't remember the other times to have been so bad. The guilt wouldn't recede, no matter how much he hated her.
After a moment, he stood, turning off the blistering flow with a wrench to the knob. On a whim, he looked into the mirror and was almost frightened by what he saw.
A nubile boy, with dark-blond hair that trailed down his slightly- long neck, tall and pale. Normalcy in the highest, for him. But his eyes... normally depthless, almost painted, Michelangelo eyes, were deep and vulnerable, indigo and afire with shame and guilt. Damn Lorelei!
Then he saw his twin behind him, his eyes wide and frightened, his hands trembling as he reached out. Tears gathered in his eyes, tangling in his lashes. Isaiah suddenly surrounded him in a world of comfort, whispering soft reassurances. "I'm so sorry, Daniel... I swear, I never knew." His eyes were wide and frightened.
Daniel leaned limply upon his younger twin, weeping painful, translucent tears onto his shoulder. His sadness poured out in great waves over them both. Time became their staunch ally, as Daniel wished every moment that this instant in safe happiness would never end.
"We'll find some way to get out of here," Isaiah promised, his eyes fierce. "Somehow!"