The sunlight streamed through the open window to alight pale, perspiring skin, my master's flexing shoulders, his jaw slack, mouth open in silent trepidation. With my back to the trunk of the oak I perched on the wide branch, watching as Joanne arched underneath Ciel's intrusive touch, oiled fingers perfumed with rose that mingled with piquant desire, the scent wafting into the spring air. Such a delicious sight, I thought, as if impulsive desire spilled them sidelong upon the bed's crumpled sheets. Blonde hair as thin spun gold glimmered with Joanne's shuddering breath, caressing the shimmering argentine of my master's hair in ardent approval.
"Ciel, you're exquisite… do not make me wait any longer." He eyed my master's glossed prick jutting with such greediness and his legs rose in eager invitation for the ingress.
He was exquisite, with his entrance as controlled as the glissade of a dancer as he wielded himself before that honeyed opening. He lifted Joanne's hips to meet his own, legs sprawled over shoulders, dulcet breaths beseeching this penetration deepen. Such gentleness Ciel took in the act, where all interactions I knew with him had been vigorous seizing, a struggle of domination between us. I remembered his touches as harsh, relentless clutching and nails that pricked the skin, like trying to squeeze blood from a stone.
These boys were not timid with each other in the slightest as grasping melted to caress, pushing dissolved to undulation that rolled as nectar over cream.
"Joanne… it's warm, ah, your skin is so soft… your smell…" Kissing lips whispered over Joanne's raised calf, supportive hands on hips as he dipped with easy surety and the boy under him arched to bury Ciel in full.
Joanne pressed a moan into the sheets. "You've… done this before."
He had taken me in such a fashion, but not with such… It was not an indulgent sampling of me, because I had not extended the opportunity. Ciel pumped a steady, gentle rhythm, lips parted in wonder as encouraging hands pulled at his shoulders. Compared to our strained coupling, Joanne poured such emotion into the act.
"Have I…?" For the briefest moment I felt that crackling in the back of my head, for he was considering me, when I had urged him just as Joanne had. "But it wasn't like this… you keep pulling me in like I can't be close enough to you."
Joanne coiled his legs around my master as he rocked, then reached to untie the eye patch. "I want to see your entire face."
"No, you can't—" Ciel tried to catch it before it fell, but Joanne brought that hand to his lips to flutter kisses over each finger. All my master could do was force his eye shut as the eye patch was flung.
"What are you hiding, Ciel? I see no deformity." That part of him was mine. Did he seek to lay claim on all of my master's secrets as well? Yet, he submitted to Joanne's soft lips on his face, sprinkled like delicate sugar. Ciel's arms around those shoulders, how he leaned forward, how his hips jerked, it was all familiar to me. The tree branch on which I was balanced shook, creaking under this seething that overtook me. Leaves rustled overhead as I snapped a branch in my fist. Joanne purred as he held Ciel's strained face. "In this moment there's nothing to hide."
Their rocking ceased, all heavy breaths as Ciel was suspended at a moment of decision. In my mind I pleaded, "Keep this secret, young master, for it is all I can possess," and perhaps in some dim way he caught this sentiment. He shook his head, and I felt the sharp stab in my chest, because it came to him, such a memory of when he had revealed all to me and in response I had recoiled. Every time he had opened himself he was met with pain.
He stared one-eyed at Joanne, voice husky, "Will you hurt me as well?"
"No." They exchanged an assuring kiss and I wondered how Joanne could even promise such a thing. "There is no fear."
"Then..." When Ciel opened his eye I very well could have fallen from that tree.
Joanne could not understand what was shimmering before him. He could not begin to conceive just how deep Ciel's secret was, and here he was exposing all before this pretty lad, ready for all to be ruined. I expected Joanne to take one full look at that terrible violet and stop in horror, to cower from the bed, which would have been my cue to end it all.
But he did no such thing.
"Joanne, how can you think me exquisite? Now you see me… Are you not disgusted…? My shame… my depravity… can you not see it?" Joanne stared into that face no one has the privilege of seeing uncovered, my beautiful master's face that was dissolving into anguish. That sight had been my privilege. This was not part of the deal. Ciel pulled from him, having gone soft and his fervour deflated.
I could have jumped through that window, but my fury was seized when I heard Joanne's gentle hushing, the benevolent embrace he gave to the boy trembling over him, tracing about the brand on his back in a gesture that spoke… compassion. "It's you and me, in this moment. I have you…" Gentle hands guided Ciel onto his back, fondling his chest as he was eased into the pillows. Planting kisses on his neck, Joanne murmured, "Let me show you."
"Show me…?" Ciel was silenced by Joanne's rousing touch that made use of the oil on the bedside table. On hands and knees he bent over the boy on the bed, depositing such solicitous kisses on his chest as he pumped to bring that phallus to attention. Slicked afresh, it was not long until he was arching into that fist, tracing over Joanne's shoulders. "What are you showing me? I don't understand."
"That I think you're exquisite, regardless of whether you agree with me or not." He mounted, poised over eager prick. "So because I hold you in such high regard… ah—" He eased himself upon Ciel, clasping at his shoulders for support, "I'm going to show you that I am not… hah, just taking my pleasure with you."
My master gripped Joanne's arms, looking at a loss for what Joanne's intentions were. I did not know what to make of it either. "But that is, ah… what it looks like to me…" He rested hands around that waist, lifting his hips to sheath himself and that aurous young man tilted his head back to be so filled.
"I want to make love with you, Ciel."
Some bizarre change overtook my master upon hearing those words. He raised himself, legs underneath him as Joanne settled on his raised lap. Their chests met, arms entwined, their pace invigorated by the rolling of hips and feverish touch. Joanne's cock was shoved rigid between them, encouraging him deeper, swifter.
"Am I even capable of such?" His fingers twitched as they combed through golden locks, holding Joanne's pleasure swept expression close. "Yes, show me, Joanne…" and as he bucked against him they both moaned.
What was this mystery unfolding before me? Joanne was just as exposed as my young master, and it was the trust that such fragile parts of themselves would not just be handled gently, but cherished. What weakness did I ever willingly display to him? Any time I stood exposed all I could think of was how he could overpower me.
Their heart beats matched, eyes unwavering, and it was the pulsing, a warmth that rippled, some force brought just by their coupling. Ciel had held me with those grasping hands before, had given me that same penetrating stare and these things were urging Joanne faster. When it had diminished me, it emboldened him.
Joanne's hips began a tender rocking, forward and up, back then down. He possessed a lithesome strength in these directed movements, controlled and graceful as a waltz. Ciel pulsed underneath, matching that rhythm, hands clutching, breath quivering. Joanne caressed a pale cheek, combing back strands of hair from Ciel's face, as Ciel gazed heavy-lidded, mouth agape. The pleasure built slowly, with each thrust a gentle tremor, a tangle of arms that grasped tighter with each wave— gold and silver, musk and rose, each moan a confession and every touch an epiphany.
When had I ever evoked such in him?
"Ciel... oh—" Legs convulsed, and Joanne grasped tighter, fingers tangled in my master's hair, skin slapping as he cried out, panting mouths meeting. "Harder— Ah! Ciel!" And it was not long until Ciel issued a cry to match his partner's, head tipped back while Joanne marvelled at an expression of ecstasy. Everything was there to suggest that my master came to a ferocious, extraordinary climax, but I felt none of it. Instead there was hollow stillness within as I witnessed those beautiful eyes fill themselves with the vision of this resplendent young lad with his head crowned in gold.
Amidst all this bucking, Joanne's breath raced once more, face strained. "Oh my God—! I'm… hah! Ciel, don't stop!" He shrieked as his body writhed with greater severity, and all Ciel could do was push his partner to a greater height of climax, breath suspended in astonishment at the sight. As he descended, he was flecked with Ciel's sharp little kisses on his jaw, his chest, delicate murmurs, "Joanne… oh Joanne…"
All the agitated motions of jerking and thrashing melted and they curled about each other under the afterglow, fluid touches exalting one another with quiet tenderness. Ciel buried his face into Joanne's shoulder, and there was peace, such peace I remember when I first had him on my bed, his soul suspended with frightening stillness. It was no less gorgeous.
"Look at me." Ciel raised his head in response to Joanne's whisper. For a moment he stared at the infernal mark on violet field. With quivering lips he bestowed a kiss beside my master's eye and he responded by wiping the tears from Joanne's cheeks.
"Just be my pleasurable company, Joanne, that's all I ask." He nodded, and Ciel settled back into the embrace. As the light could no longer stretch from the western sky into their chamber, they sank into exhausted sleep.
The two did not come down for dinner, so I was afforded some time to reflect on what I had seen.
Would Ciel explain to Joanne the contract? There had been some sort of unspoken understanding between the two, in those moments prior to them drifting to unconsciousness, where Joanne saw no reason to pry. "Just be my pleasurable company," he had said, which meant that Joanne could be nothing more, for some barriers were impenetrable.
If that were the case, why did I feel as if Joanne had crossed some boundary that I felt he had no business encroaching? That he would force my master to such extreme exposure should have angered me, but instead I felt confounded. He did not make the request with intent to dominate, but rather… it was a requirement Joanne needed in order to reveal his true intention, which was not domineering in the slightest.
"I want to make love with you." Was this aim achieved? Was it the simple proclamation that made their fervent scene more than just sex? I could not help but feel as if I missed something. Ciel appeared inflamed by such a statement, the very thing he had wanted all along, the very thing that I could not make. After seeing it, I still felt no closer to knowing…
It had grown late, and I had hung my coat for the evening. Meals had been planned for the next day and the appropriate preparations made. These distractions were far too short-lived. I considered that cleaning out the spice cabinet would be a good task to preoccupy myself with, but then I felt the pattering of some quiet soul down the servant hall.
It was the scent of him I sensed before the door opened. The waning odour of sex, how his sweat had mingled with the trace scent of Joanne's lotion, that bottom note of bergamot. He stood in the doorway in a pair of Joanne's pyjama pants and his nightshirt. As he walked the wide fabric billowed but cuffed tightly at the ankle. The style looked Persian.
He sat at the counter, and I turned from my sorting through the spice cabinet. "Are you hungry, young master?"
He nodded.
I had anticipated that someone would eventually call for food, so I had prepared some small sandwiches and the tomato bisque on the cooker was still simmering. In no time the sandwiches were gone and he asked for a second cup of soup. Coriander still seemed fresh, but the onion powder needed to be discarded. The thyme had been nearly depleted, and I considered fresh basil was always preferable to dried. I had little idea why I was holding onto this mustard seed. Once his soup cup was empty he requested something sweet.
As he sat with his tea and berry tart, I felt him staring at me with those two-tone eyes as I was opening canisters. "You're not wearing your jacket."
"You're eating dinner in the kitchen at ten o'clock in the evening, in loungewear, so there is no use in pointing out informalities, is there?" There was no use to have red pepper in the spice cabinet either. Fennel seed, saffron, cardamom… I had not used many of these since that curry festival.
"Why do defensive?" He set down his tea cup to cross his arms.
I began pulling other jars out of the cabinet: panch phoron, garam masala. Those must have been Agni's. "I suppose you caught me in the middle of something. Will wearing it put you at ease?"
"Well... I'm not ill at ease. I was just making an observation. Do you always take it off in the kitchen?"
"More often than not. Do you have need of anything else?" I wondered if Agni would notice if these were disposed of. The masala was his personal blend, and it was still rather fragrant.
"No, but I'm still drinking tea."
"You will not get any sleep if you have too much."
"I've had plenty of sleep, and now I'm wide awake."
"So do you plan to sit there and continue asking me silly questions?"
"No I was hungry! What the Hell, Sebastian?" The stool scraped at the tiled floor as he stood. "You're being particularly condescending. Moreso than normal."
"I apologise if my tone has offended you." Empty canisters were deposited in the wash sink, along with Ciel's used flatware. I set my gloves on the counter behind me, hoping to busy myself with washing.
"Are you irritated with me? Was it because I screwed up your routine?" He walked around the counter to stand next to me, but I would not face him. "Because I took no dinner? Is it because I'm wearing Joanne's pyjamas?"
I dropped a glass canister back into the wash water, suds splashing over the side. "That is a ridiculous reason to be irritated."
"But you are irritated."
"I did not say—"
"Sebastian, you don't have to say it."
I stared at the seal on my hand for a moment too long, as though I had not seen it countless times. Hands submerged in the water, scrub the plate with the terry cloth, rinse and placed on the drying rack, repeat. Ciel leaned against the counter to watch, and I found myself thinking his presence was the source of my irritation.
After a few minutes of this methodical work, he said quietly, "I suppose you are not in the mood to say anything at all."
I looked over my shoulder. "That is correct."
"Care to explain why?"
"Not particularly."
"All right. I order you to explain what is bothering you."
"You." After drying my hands with the towel that was whipped from the hanger I dashed it to the ground. "Come into my space after hours asking for food and you will receive it but do not expect more than that. I do not want your company, I do not want you interrupting my thoughts, and those pyjamas are in fact beginning to irritate me. Now, you have finished eating, will you please leave?"
Of course but he did not order me to explain all of what was bothering me. Nor did I feel this included my feeling of befuddlement, which made me desire solitude.
He tamped down his astonishment at my blatant disrespect by standing straighter. "No."
He could have lashed out at me, picked at every fault in my behaviour. Instead he wrapped his arms around my neck, his head to my chest and try as I might to stand rigid I relented to that scent, tea and sugar, musk and rose oil.
"You saw us."
"I did." I wanted to tell him to release me because my hands were tingling and my shoulders started to feel rather heavy. "You give too much of yourself, young master."
"Only because he is inclined to continue giving more." He chuckled. "I didn't pin you as the jealous type. You're a real piece of work."
I took a deep breath. "Please forgive my forwardness, but do not presume to know my feelings. Jealousy is based in fear, to resent because one fears to lose something. I cannot resent Joanne and I do not fear losing you to him either. No, what I feel is far simpler, and far less pathological. I feel… inadequate."
He hummed, and it reverberated against my chest. "My perfect butler... feels inadequate." His nails raked against the back of my head, almost in this petting gesture. "I thought about why the things you told me the other day upset me so. I know you were not saying them to be malicious. But it hurt to hear them. I really did say that. And when I had said those things I was… Wasn't there a point in time when I wanted you to be so much more...?"
"Stop, please..." I unravelled his arms from around my neck. "There is something you deserve to have returned to you."
It was not my intention to give it back to him, but I reasoned if he knew everything that happened between us in full, then he would stop pestering me. He would not touch me and he would not plead for my attention anymore. I walked to my jacket hanging by the door, and from an inside pocket I pulled a small book. When I handed it to him, he noticed the "1891" stamped on the front. "This is... my journal?"
"I imagined you would want it back."
He hid his face behind the leather cover. "You knew about this?"
"You should have learned by now that it is impossible to keep things from me. If you are in no mood to sleep, stay up and read it. I suspect you have recovered much of what you have forgotten, but I have not pried so I cannot be certain. Perhaps some things are buried deeper because they hurt too much. Or perhaps you need some reminding of the details."
"I wrote quite a bit about you in this… Will I hate you after reading it?"
"I do not look forward to the prospect of receiving fresh resentment. I should like to plead for your forgiveness, but that is something that will never be owed to me." All I wanted was to serve him, even at the expense of myself, just as it was always meant to be.
He looked as though I had imparted upon him some treasured artefact. Ciel nodded his head with some sort of unspeakable understanding. "I'll be in the library." After I had turned back to the sink he murmured, "Um... thank you."
It was a few hours later, after a cleared spice cabinet, a spotless kitchen, and the fires coked, I slinked into the library. Ciel was wrapped in an afghan, curled up on the leather sofa, journal fallen to the floor. In the lamplight I saw the streaks on his face… from weeping.
"Oh young master…" I whispered as I turned out the light. The journal was placed in a drawer in the desk. When I picked him up to carry him upstairs, he clutched at my lapel, just as he used to.
Joanne was still in my master's bed when I deposited Ciel next to him. As soon as he was under the coverlet, he gravitated to the warmth of the other boy, and in his half-sleep Joanne sensed such closeness and draped an arm over him. In the dark, as I took to the shadows, he wept against Joanne's neck, "I'm such an idiot…"
If my most precious master had any thoughts about being reunited with his journal, he did not voice them to me. Instead he seemed perfectly content to place his attention on Joanne all the more. It is no exaggeration to say that those two were mad for the pleasure they found in one another.
Ciel was greedy as always, soaking in those soft, skilled touches. Oh, Joanne had experience with this prior to coupling with the young master, that was for certain, and he was not shy in sharing his familiarity with the sport. As he unbuttoned Ciel's shirt he would whisper things sweet and saucy, "I yearn for that tongue to sweep over me, to touch those secret places- ah, Ciel, wet my prick again." And Ciel would moan over those words, eager to fulfil such dirty desires because to see the very sight of Joanne excited and panting was enough to make him grow stiff.
Since having learned I had seen him in the act with Joanne, he picked places in the house where I could catch them: the terrace, the sunroom, the study. For Joanne, he was caught up in his own passion for my amorous little earl and probably gave little mind to their unbridled antics. Ciel saw it as a game; it was always games and tactics with him. He would try and steal glances beyond Joanne's gaze, heavy with pleasure, trying to seek me out behind a corner, but I kept myself well-hidden.
I knew he wanted me watching because I felt such a pull from him, never an order to be present, but rather a plea. What was this plea for? I pondered. I considered he might just enjoy the exhibitionism. Maybe it was to rile me, knowing that when I saw them have sex the first time it had affected me in a way I had not expected. Or was it that he desired me to join in and was too embarrassed to ask? Surely it was not the last possibility, because that boy was entirely too shameless to be embarrassed.
They practised no discretion, and that Thursday, after a spell in the sunroom after breakfast, then moving to the study, and by midday being hot and bothered on the terrace, it was decided by the both of them to just continue this sexual escapade for the entire day. They all but inhaled their lunch in earnest just to get back to more physical pursuits.
No sooner were they up from the table they began pawing at one another again, stealing kisses. This led to some heavy petting in the main parlour, and it was decided that it would be best to continue in a proper bed. That sensible idea was quickly discarded, much like how they discarded their clothes half way up the stairs and decided the top of the stair on the windowsill was as good a place for a romp as any. That mischievous little master of mine had already pocketed lubrication in case the mood struck at random, so he would have it in hand as soon as the trousers were off.
"Ciel, hah, you have no patience— ah!" Joanne was correct in this, but he was doing little to slow the progression of events. When he backed him into the window, he was more than eager to use that sill as support and hitch up his legs. Of course Ciel saw this as easy entry and made full use of the situation.
"Just as well... mm, when it goes in so easy..." Ciel perched a knee under him on the window sill. "I think you're used to this treatment."
"Ah... being buggered on a window? Not... eyah— really."
"No, I mean how many blokes you must have been with at that school." He bent in to lick at Joanne's neck and whispered, "How many, Joanne? I don't even think I'm your second lay. How many... have fucked..." he continued his violent thrusts, "this luscious... ah, delightful... perfect ass?"
He grabbed onto Ciel's waist to encourage their swift pace. "None of them— hah, hah, were like... oh, oh Ciel—!"
"Keep saying my name..."
Joanne's breathy cries echoed through the foyer, screaming in his ear as Ciel held the trembling boy tight, pushing him against the window panes. I suspected Mey-Rin could hear them all the way down the servant's hall.
After a few heaving moments they quieted and went still, Ciel aiding his partner off the sill and to the bedroom because Joanne's trembling knees could not hold him. Once the door was shut I collected their clothing off the stair and knew no comment would be made of it later. Of course, before laundering I would bury my face in the master's trousers, even knowing that to do so was a torment to me. Hellfire, it was likely the boy's intention in the first place.
One would think that eventually they would tire themselves out with such activity, but youthful boys have a store of energy that cannot seem to be depleted and a sexual appetite that cannot be fully satisfied. If there were no other engagements to attend to, no pressing issues to address, what would give them reason to stop? Even if Lord Phantomhive had papers on his desk awaiting his attention, insurance claims from the LeHavre fiasco and quarterly reports to review, I was not about to pull him away from such healthy activity that appeared to be doing him a wealth of good. The master was still on holiday, as far as I was concerned.
That Friday morning I was ordered to bring their breakfast to the bedroom, and while it was not said, I think they had little intention of making themselves presentable for the day. In the very least, when I wheeled in the quiche, croissants with fresh butter, a bowl of fruit and piping hot tea, they did have the decency to cover themselves, Ciel borrowing one of Joanne's silk robes. Joanne looked rather sheepish but thanked me all the same. I took this as a polite dismissal and I gathered they would leave the trolley in the hall by the dumbwaiter when they were satisfied.
It was just as well that they would manage themselves, for a week before the ball left me quite a bit of work, placing orders to stock champagne and food for hors d'oeuvres, as well as sending for necessary supplies for the servants to begin their work on Monday: paint, panelling, polish, varnish. Finnian was informed to bring necessary tools from the gardening shed, Bardroy informed he would need to bring the tool chest.
Amidst all this preparation and sending Mey-Rin out with lists of supplies, there was a knock at the door. As I entered the foyer I felt from the other side of the entrance someone of chipper countenance and bright enthusiasm and perhaps a touch of frazzled apprehension. I blanched, knowing who this precious little thing was before extending a greeting, and I glanced up the stair to the second floor.
As it was, I could not possibly greet a guest without adorning the usual expectant, inviting expression.
"Good morning, Lady Elizabeth," I chirped as soon as the door was cracked. As I gave my customary bow, I noticed the folio under her arm. She curtsied in a mint ensemble that complimented the freshness of the day, all silk and organza as shimmery as her curls.
"Good morning, Sebastian, please excuse me just dropping in, I really should have given notice..."
"No need to fret, my lady. The young master did give you invitation to come any time."
Her apprehension was even more apparent as she was led in and she surveyed the foyer and peaked into the side parlour. "Where is Ciel?" She approached the stairs.
"I believe my master is attending to some business, if you will permit me a minute to collect him." A hand on her shoulder was persuasion enough to redirect her to sit for a spell. "Would you care for refreshment while you wait?"
She settled onto the couch by the window, minding her skirts and crossing her legs at the ankle. "No thank you. I came because Ciel and I really need to work on this duet for the ball next week, and I've been practising this piano piece." She lifted the folio, no doubt containing musical scores, the same ones that sat in the ballroom, next to the master's violin that he had not touched in weeks. "Also, I just... I really need to talk to him about some things..."
"Nothing unfortunate, I hope."
Even though she tried to fake a smile, it could not mask the drooping of her shoulders, how she looked to the side in avoidance.
I gestured to the gramophone on the side table at the far end of the sitting area. "I would like to show you this device the young master purchased in Covent Garden last weekend. He has had company since then and the two of them have been beside themselves with this. I am sure you are to appreciate this, since you are as musically inclined as him." I pulled a disc labelled "Schumann" and cranked the machine to play. Of course she recognised the melody as soon as the sound of a piano trickled from the horn, and her hands flew to her face in astonishment.
"That is brilliant! Wow, it almost sounds as the real thing!"
"It gives me pleasure to see you so delighted. I hope this is a satisfactory preoccupation for you while I look for my master. Are you certain you require nothing else?"
Elizabeth flitted over to the gramophone, more than engrossed in watching that recording spin on its table. "This is rather ingenious. But don't keep me waiting too long, I'm rather eager to see him."
"Of course, my lady, please excuse me." As soon as the parlour door was shut behind me with a respectful click, I rushed up the stairs.
Knocking was not even a consideration at this point. There was no time for politeness, for the record would only run for six minutes. Elizabeth would not know how to work the gramophone and if the song should play itself out before Ciel was downstairs she would surely come looking for him.
After I slipped into the bedroom as silent as a shadow, a part of me wish I had knocked.
Ciel leaned back against the headboard panting, legs spread wide as Joanne's head bobbed between them. Upon recognition that they were no longer alone, Ciel's gaze broadened from the lazy quivering I had been so accustomed to seeing on his face when serviced in such a manner. His heart sped, jolted in initial shock, and Joanne must have sensed this abrupt change in that boy's condition. Before Joanne could look up to assess any potential cause for this gasping, Ciel laced fingers through that disheveled blonde hair to shove him back on his swollen prick.
Under Joanne's muffled acquiescence, Ciel pushed himself lower into the pillows, his unwavering gaze awash in pleasure. From his haughty little smirk he murmured, just above inaudible, "Sebastian."
Staggering over the carpet made no sound as I backed into the door, gloved hand over my mouth in transfixion. Joanne's eager tongue was a secondary preoccupation to me just standing there having caught him in the act. Or perhaps it was my reaction. The truth was that the sensation of it, his heated flesh and brimming pleasure rumbled through me upon Ciel's attention being directed at me.
And he knew I could feel it. His jaw tightened, his grip pulling at Joanne's hair, and still his eyes would not leave mine.
It was not long before he moaned, toes curling, hips bucking against pursed lips, Joanne's whimper as that pretty little mouth was filled and my heart fluttered in my chest and I felt such a burning across the bridge of my nose. Such strained orgasm oscillated between us, some fibrillose connexion that pricked at my hand and my eyes. All this alerted me to the indisputable conclusion that he came because of me.
Lowering my head, I took a breath, not sure whether I was feeling defeated or triumphant. It mattered little. With hands laced behind me I dictated in my most even tone, "Are you quite finished?"