Rush Drop

You think you'd be used to it by now. But you aren't; and if you were, it wouldn't make it any easier. You roll off Artoria, gazing at her, sweaty, panting, skin littered in red where you roughed her up, and your first thought is an awestruck: God, I did that to her. Your second thought is a guilt-ridden: God, I fucking did that to her.

How could you feel anything else? Seeing the inprint of your fingers on her wrists. How could you feel anything else? Seeing the pain you added to a girl whose life has been nothing but suffering?

You don't say that, of course. You'd come off as condescending at best, and that would lead to nothing but to her biting your nose off. Instead, you gather her into your arms, as gently as you can manage, and you pull her close to your chest. She hums wordlessly, visibly still in her afterglow, and she wiggles to snuggle closer to you.

"I love you," you say, because it's the truth, and because you'd feel really silly telling her I didn't mean any of that, it was just sex talk, I don't even think being a slut is demeaning. "I love you. My smart," you kiss the crown of her head, "strong," another chaste kiss, "cute Caster."

She hums again, then shifts to press her ear to your chest. She says it's because your tits are soft, but you know she simply likes to listen to your heartbeat. "Thank you, Ritsuka. For indulging me." 

She's not like you. She doesn't speak much after sex. Unprompted praises and sweet reassurances are just not her thing.

But when she wraps an arm around you, rubbing the ache off your shoulders, and you understand. She enjoyed this. She wanted this. She cares for you even if you hit her while calling her names. She trusted you to hit her and call her names. Because she knows who you are, and you are not the monster you were just roleplaying as.

She touches you, kisses you, holds you, and you understand. She'd rather die than say it out loud- but she loves you, too.

Comments