Fissure

She wants it to be more, but they’d just be revisiting places they’ve already determined they can’t go. She turns off her heart for this time, because she has to; tomorrow it will break. Tonight, she just needs to take from him, before he’s not there for her to take anymore.

He approaches her from behind, kissing her on the neck, wrapping his arm around her waist. She can feel he’s hard already. Not like she’s surprised; she’s already wet, and has been since dinner, staring across the table at him. Even in the silence, when they were afraid to say what tomorrow would bring - or wouldn’t bring, as was the case. It doesn’t matter; her body betrays her.

She stays like this for a moment, afraid to see his face. She lets his hands wander up under her sweater, inside of her bra, then down under the waistband of her jeans and inside her panties. She memorizes him pressed up against her, his breath, warm on her neck.

He spins her around; his eyes are nearly black, in the dim light. He lifts her sweater in one quick motion. He unbuttons her jeans and slips them over her legs, leaving her in just her bra and panties. He moves his hand over her, like her body is a Braille text he’s reading, memorizing. She feels the lump start in her throat; she pushes it down, turns her emotions on low.

She moves to unbuckle his belt and lets her hands trail across his erection as she slides the jeans down. She pulls his shirt over his head with business-like efficiency, then steps close to him, her body matched to his. He kisses her hard on the mouth, and she responds instantly - no soft exploration, no gentle kisses. It’s teeth pressing into flesh, tongues battling, no room for air. They fall on the bed and his body covers hers. His hips are pressed into her hard, his mouth nearly suffocating her, taking her breath. She can taste blood on her lip, but it only makes her kiss him back, harder. Tomorrow it will heal.

He tears at his briefs, then rips her panties from her, the lace seam giving way. He doesn’t have the patience for the hooks on her bra; he pushes it down, exposing her breast. His mouth clamps down on a nipple, then the whole breast; he’s sucking it into his mouth, almost painfully, leaving red marks on the creamy skin. He comes back up to cover her mouth with his, as he pushes her legs apart.

He buries himself inside of her, but not gradually - in one forceful thrust. She’s wet, but the force still takes her by surprise, and she cries out under his mouth. He forces himself into her again, frenzied, and she still cries out. He pulls back from her mouth, shifts his body and pushes her legs up toward her body, kneeling between her; he pounds her body, watching her face. He lets go of her legs, and she braces her feet against his shoulders. He puts one hand under her hips, touches her face with the other. She bites the palm of his hand as he slides it across her mouth. He makes a move like he’s going to slap her, but stops centimeters from her skin, caressing her cheek. She can feel the tears well in her eyes, knowing he can see them too. She closes her eyes and leans against his hand. He slides it down her neck, pressing into her flesh, and rests his hand on her breast, kneading it, squeezing it, watching the tremors in the other one as he pounds her body repeatedly.

He stops, saying nothing, but she reads his look, and knows the unspoken command. She brings one foot down from his shoulder, crossing it over her own body, turning. He shifts with her, unwilling to lose contact, as she twists her body beneath him, until she is kneeling, with him still inside of her. She lays her chest on the bed, arching her hips to meet him. He pushes himself deep inside of her, pulling her hips back to meet him. She pauses in this familiar position, then raises herself up on all fours. He holds her hips, caressing her ass, waiting. Then he thrusts, shaking her body. He thrusts again, as hard as he can, and she cries out, trying to pull away. He holds her hips and thrusts into her, over and over.

He’s hard and big, and each thrust jars her, making her ache. But the dull pain is being masked by the building rush and she can feel herself getting wetter. She moans and cries out, but they speak no words. He leans down, reaching for her face, turning her face over her shoulder. He kisses her hard, again, teeth pressing hard into her lips, forcing air from her with each thrust, moaning into her mouth. She can feel her own release coming, and his mouth stifles her whimpers as it peaks. She bucks back into him, crying out into his mouth, which seems to only feed his desire. He pounds her harder, and she can tell he is close as well. He breaks contact with her mouth as the last wave hits her and she screams his name. His pounding is furious now, his fingers digging into her flesh on her hips, bruising the skin. She can hear his breath hissing between his clenched teeth, and when he lifts his hand from her hip, she’s ready for the stinging slap that follows. Another one follows, punishing the fair skin on her flank like he’s punishing the inside of her body, and pain and pleasure become indistinguishable.

His desire is animal, his groan is guttural and his last thrusts are sharp. She can feel the pulse inside of her with his release, and then he breaks the silence. It comes in a rush of air. “I love you.” Her name. And then he collapses on top of her, whispering her name again, in her ear. He wraps his arms around hers above her head on the pillows, and she can feel his heart pound frantically against her back.

Face buried in the pillow, she whispers “I love you” where he can’t hear, and silently speaks his name, knowing it may be the last chance she has to say it in his presence, but still not able to say it. Her tears wet the pillow, like they will other nights in the future.

He whispers “I love you” again, letting it hang there, like a question. In that moment, a small fissure starts in her heart.