#time for bed

thewinterbunny:

Getting ready for bed, and I’m lying here like “why is my foot freezing?” 

I look down and realise I only put one sock. 


but the foot that’s freezing, is the foot with the sock on it….

^{what is this sorcery….}

Probably the same reason My feet are freezing despite being socked and covered in a wool blanket XD

Congratulations can sting like an insult, after enough of them have been ladled on that you’re inoculated to the praise. It starts to feel like a little too much, each additional instances of such a good job what great news how wonderful for you seems just around the corner from sarcasm, or at the very least veiled jealousy. It doesn’t matter how much Rebecca knew she had put in the work, and no one here truly resented her the success, it felt somehow hollow, like she’d been drugged and couldn’t quite swim the surface of it all. It felt a little like she was drowning in adulation.

The worst of it was when it all died down a little, work petering out into post-work drinks, and even though it was nominally to celebrate her promotion, it was utterly unchanged from any other Friday evening, when they all got pleasantly obliterated, diluted themselves down into their basic selves, free and laughing, all the stress worked out of them in intervals, one hot stream after another.

She excused herself early, and not just because she had other plans. Any conversation she’d been a part of had circled back around to the news of the day like it was doing laps, veering off into one topic or another before finally something pulled it right back in, and they all affirmed their pleasure for her over again. So she made her goodbyes, which inevitably led to another bout of so prouds, and such good news’, before finally she stepped out of the pub and into the cool hubbub of London at night.

The route home wasn’t too far, and she didn’t make it any longer than it needed to be. Every moment spent on her own she could feel herself folding in on herself, tying knots with the knots that were already folded over in her stomach, and she needed his fingertips to tease them free. Needed him, in lots of different ways, but primarily she needed him to affirm her. Hold her with all of his strength and all of his power, and assure her of both her place, and that she was definitively in it.

For his part, Matt had been working quickly. The flat was dark when he got home, sidestepping any alcohol in lieu of something far more intoxicating. But he needed some time to prepare, both himself and the scene, and he’d set about it with a familiar ease. Suit on the bed, tie chosen and laid beside it, and a pocket square picked out to complement that in turn. A contrast in his socks, and he stood back, watching the palate sit there, waiting for some glaring flaw to assault his eyes. There was a satisfaction on the mechanical, manual nature of the task, even though the intent was purely psychological.

Then the toys, placed to hand, but out of sight. He made sure to consider them, think about the purpose behind each, and how it was going to help him achieve what he wanted from Rebecca tonight. It tended to stretch out the preparation time, when he could just empty the toybox underneath the bed, or onto the shelf, but this was more about fixing things in his head now than saving time during the scene. Improvisation within bounds, like picking the key before breaking into open bars. Take Five would hardly be the same piece in A Major, after all.

He was dressed when he heard her key in the lock. It was scrabbling, the key skidding over the hole a few times before she finally got it in, and he couldn’t help but smile, thinking about her mental state. There was an eagerness there, but it was also tinged with desperation, the need to be inside, doing the things she wanted to be doing, rather than just the desire. He shifted on the bed, adjusted his trousers.

She was a fluster coming in, shedding coat and jacket like they were aflame, until she was down on the ground, arms wrapped around his trousered legs, face pressed tight against his knee. He reached down, fingertips trailing through her hair, and let her be for a few moments. A minute, perhaps, just to be that slightest bit indulgent. He could feel the patter of her heart through his shin, her chest fluttering up and down far too fast. She was starting to calm, starting to feel that tiny bit at home.

Fingertips transformed into hooks, came together to make a claw that raked through her hair, grabbed a handful and held it with vicious intent. He pulled her up by that grip, drew her up like a puppet, and she followed, resisting that tiny bit at first until her scalp began to protest, stage a revolt, work away at her will until she acquiesced, allowed herself to be withdrawn from such a contented place.

He spoke to her, then. Words that hurt, in that moment, that cut her. It was more the delivery than the content, but they were stripped of whatever veil she’d been imagining all day. These were no cloaked daggers, seeking that soft spot between shoulderblades. This was a tirade of blows, hailing down on her. And yet, despite the distaste she couldn’t help but feel, the strength of her shame and humiliation in that moment, there was relief there too. That she didn’t have to worry about these words, that they were chosen without allusion, and without malice, too, even if he did do a fantastic job of giving them a little life. They were fireworks, when she’d been imagining artillery.

Then words changed to actual blows, his free hand slapping and smacking up and down her body. He hit her face a few times, and she cried out when she felt his palm against her cheek, without any of the usual restraint displayed. There was a point, shortly after, where she could feel tears start to well in her eyes. It scared her, made everything feel as though it was wobbling, threatening to shatter, and it was then that he surged forward, then that he pulled her to him, and then that he kissed her, and held her. She was a human-shaped earthquake in that moment, a localised explosion of self, and he contained her beautifully. 

Part 1

Part 2