The door clicks closed behind Darcy and I finally let myself sink into the mattress. It's soft, I want to put my own covers on the bedding, make it feel somewhat familiar, but I'm too exhausted. It feels like I can feel that exhaustion in my bones, and I'm in an annoying amount of pain. I don't even think I can sleep like this, it's too constant, to the point where it's getting hard to think of much else.
Warmth would help, I've probably overworked my body trying to help with chores in the Moonsong packhouse all morning, never mind how long the walk to the forest was yesterday. I should look at the bathroom, maybe there's a shower, I could sit on the floor and let hot water run over me for a bit. It might ease things enough to sleep.
I groan as I drag myself off the bed and over to the bathroom door. I hate my body so much. I open the door and stare in shock. Firstly it's bigger than I expected, but more surprisingly, it has a bath. And grab rails. And a stool beside the sink. I look back at the bath, it has a showerhead and a bench to sit on.
I walk over to it in curiosity, what packhouse just has rooms with accessible bathrooms? The bench is sturdy, but removable, which means I can choose to lay down in the bath or sit to shower. The fact that there's grab rails so I can support myself getting in and out, and that there's a bench so I don't have to sit on the floor if I'm too tired to stand feels like an unbelievable luxury.
I move as if in a trance, I move the shower bench to the floor, and turn on the tap. The room fills with steam and it soothes my sore throat. I strip out of my clothes and carefully get into the bath. The water level is still low, but even a few inches of hot water makes me relax. I sigh softly as I let my head fall back while waiting for the bath to fill.
Her eyes had bits of gold in them, it was so bright. Those eyes stay in my mind as I close my own, there's something about them, yes they're striking, but I feel like more than just colour keeps them so fresh in my memory. The way she looks at me, the way she talks to me, like she truly sees me. She sees the real mess of a person I am, and for some mad reason, she gets upset when I hide the mess? I don't understand.
It's like some fairytale, who sees the mess that I am and wants to see more? Who gets yelled at by an absolute stranger and then decides, 'yeah that's reasonable, I'm going to be nice, and kind.' And grab my face. And stare into my eyes. Or was it just me staring into her eyes? The fluttering returns. Why is someone grabbing my face and basically threatening me so that I stop pretending to be ok hot? It's weird, but it makes me feel things.
I turn off the tap when the water covers me in its warmth. It does ease the pain a little bit, I sigh in relief. My mind wanders, orgasms help with pain too. I think of that feeling, the rush of pleasure that cancels out everything else for a few short moments.
I let my body soak; the water is too hot to do much more than stare at the ceiling and daydream. I've thought about it often enough before, someone coming along, someone who for some reason wanted to fill my every need, attend to my every desire. Realistically, I'd never get a fully fledged relationship like that, but I could imagine hooking up with someone.
We'd get time together occasionally, my shy submissiveness would be pleasing enough to them, and in return they'd fuck the pain and thoughts away for a while. I imagine someone who could be rough with me, but equally gentle when I needed it.
I imagine her, my shadowy lover, how she might hold me, and we'd fit perfectly together. How safe her presence could make me feel. I imagine being pissed off and needing to let off steam, and how instead of being annoyed she'd give me the space to be bitchy before pinning me down and fucking the fustrations out of me.
Someone who wouldn't get frustrated with me, who'd poke and prod lovingly until I opened up or admitted that I did want her company, my hand touches my jaw softly. She was frustrated with me, but she didn't just walk away. I remember those honey eyes, is there a world where those eyes would look at all of me, and want me anyway?
Realistically, I'm too much work for anyone. Even when I found someone who did like having sex with me in the past, it wasn't enough for me. She seemed to enjoy the game of making me vulnerable, bringing me to a soft, pliable headspace where I could melt into the pleasure.
But of course I was too much after, I wanted comfort, to be held and praised and softly taken care of. She said she was too warm to be near me, or she would start asking advice about her new friend drama the moment she was done with me. I was too clingy, and it completely put her off, I felt too vulnerable, too unregulated.
I groan, it's been a long day, I should just let myself imagine my perfect lover, find some comfort in the fantasy before I have to face reality. I pull myself out of the bath as the water drains. The towels here are really big. I wrap myself up in one, close the curtains to hide the rising sun, and crawl into bed.
My hands wander down my body and I lose myself in the fantasy. And I definitely don't imagine honey-gold eyes.