8. Compromise
Sometimes he wonders how this arrangement had come about, how he finds himself in Nellie Lovett's bed every night. How had he not seen this situation arising? Who had initiated it? Him, her? Does it even matter anymore?
He sighs heavily, shifts to find a more comfortable position. Beside him, Nellie rolls over, placing a hand on his bare arm.
"All right, love?" she asks sleepily, resting her cheek against his shoulder.
He stiffens at the contact but soon reluctantly relaxes under her soothing touch. She doesn't seem to expect an answer to her question, and for that he is grateful. He doesn't want to explain to her how much he hates the terrifying fact that he reluctantly likes this arrangement. He should be thinking of nothing but Lucy, Johanna, and the judge, but the fiery haired little baker invades his thoughts almost viciously until he gives into his body's treacherous needs, taking her roughly, their bodies rocking violently.
He knows she loves it, and though he'll never admit it, it's the only release he has. In those moments of white-hot pleasure, nothing exists but the baker writhing beneath him. He knows nothing but her mewling voice as she cries his name, her exquisite moves under him.
He finds blissful release, she owns him if only for the night.
An unspoken compromise they can both live with.