Flash Fiction, September 2021.

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I’ve never known a kinder soul than Derrick Morgan. Everything about him is gentle. It’s weaved into the very fiber of his being. It’s in his voice, his dreams. I hear it in the lilt of his laughter, and in the steady song of his breathing as he sleeps.

It’s even in the knots he’s fastened around my wrists, quietly, one at a time. Now my hands are spread apart, anchored to opposite bedposts without tugging too tightly on my shoulders. I can wriggle, but not much else. I couldn’t help my trembling as he did it, and there was certainly nothing I could do about the pit in my stomach. Dread planted itself deep in my gut, sprouting roots that raced away from his many reassurances. He noticed, because of course he did, and kissed me once over my eye. His long hair brushed my cheek, and then I felt okay. I told myself to trust him, because that’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do.

The gentleness that followed came in droves – every kiss, every teasing flick of his tongue. His featherlight fingers and warm palms molded to every inch of me. It was agony by the end, wanting him so much without being able to grab him, or squeeze him, or claw my name into his back. Even on top of me, his knees clamped to my hips, his body impossibly tight around mine, he was soft. Slow, like golden, dribbling honey. He fucked me gently so I could savor every single quiver and twitch of muscle. He kept going until my entire world faded into a white, shapeless haze, my own screams lost on me. It took me minutes to remember how to breathe again, let alone speak. In fact, I was quiet for a long, long time.

“Are you okay?”

I’ve told Derrick about Scott. Bits and pieces anyway. He knows the ugliest parts – the biting cold of January snow against my bare skin. The taste of blood that wouldn’t leave my mouth for days. The way he’d pinned me down, unconscious and not, and taught me how painful pleasure could be. I could never call it what it was – I still can’t – because the word tastes like bile and come burning at the back of my throat. If I say it, I’ll choke on it. Instead, I feel tears escape my eyes as I blink up at Derrick, shaking bodily as he loosens my restraints. Instantly, his hands are cradling me and his lips are doting on the edges of my face.

“Oh honey, was it too much?”

He asks so sweetly; I feel a sob lodge in my throat. I nod, because I am. I am fine, but overwhelmed with love for this incredible, gentle man who’s been patient enough to care about me.  He pouts, not believing it as he pushes hair back from my sweat-soaked forehead. Finally, I can slip my arms around him. As I do, I bury myself into the center of his chest.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? Did it hurt? You didn’t say the safe word, so I–”

I kiss him hard to shut him up. He is the softest, most saccharine thing I have ever tasted, and I never want to let him go.