The sex was sorrowful. Full of things neither of them could say. It was extravagantly dark and ravenous. More a throbbing ache that needed to be fed than lovemaking. There was nothing gentle about it. He was an animal. And he was almost always aggressive with her. And she was almost always moved to tears, though if it was more from the pleasure or the pain neither of them could ever be sure.
He would pin her wrists down so painfully and tightly in his own hands that the fingerprint bracelets lasted for days. She would beg for it. Love for the first time the feel of giving up her body. Of submission.
He would swallow her soft golden mouth with his own taut ruddy one. She would bathe him in her eyelashes. He would take her high enough to get her stuck. She would strangle the strands of his talcum-powder-soft silver hair in her hands. He would hang himself from her tongue. She would lick his bones. He would say "I love you." She would say it back. He would mean it. She would mean it more. He would kiss her all over her face before drifting off to sleep. And she would stare at his sleeping face, and sit up half the night watching the moon cut through the darkness outside the window and cry..
She wouldn't allow herself to touch him when she was fully clothed. The thought of what she had to do dismembered her. She felt dirty. She hated herself.