[ He's aware he hasn't always respected those unspoken rules of consent. It's there, floating like a miasmic banner, radiating from her flushed, unguarded face, those cruelties he'd inflicted on her because he didn't -- sometimes still can't -- see her as a person. Just a conduit between him and the oblivion he craves. And then that Bad Night, the oblivion hadn't been enough for him, and he'd thought to snatch something stronger by forcing himself on ... ]
[ He shakes his head clear. The memory stabs him now, sickens him in that moment as much as the times he'd been cursed to attack Yin. Fuck, what if he'd chosen some other way? Kept a clear head? Waited for any permission from her eye or lip? Of course the warped thing he is can't know that, can't do it. Has trouble accepting it even now. What seems so very simple and right to any decent human being --- would never occur to a monster. ]
[ Even one trying to be better. ]
[ Swallowing, he places a trail of kisses, from her jaw down to her throat. Fine, he's the one steering. Fine, he's taken on the entire responsibility of the when, the where, the how and how often she gets off. But here, now, it's still her choice to say, Stop. (And maybe that's the lesson he's leaving her as a parting gift? The fact that if someone doesn't respect your consent, you shouldn't be with them at all.) ]
[ Feathering his lips along her earlobe, he murmurs, ]
If you say No, I stop. If I don't, you kick me out of bed. Does that make sense?
no subject
[ He shakes his head clear. The memory stabs him now, sickens him in that moment as much as the times he'd been cursed to attack Yin. Fuck, what if he'd chosen some other way? Kept a clear head? Waited for any permission from her eye or lip? Of course the warped thing he is can't know that, can't do it. Has trouble accepting it even now. What seems so very simple and right to any decent human being --- would never occur to a monster. ]
[ Even one trying to be better. ]
[ Swallowing, he places a trail of kisses, from her jaw down to her throat. Fine, he's the one steering. Fine, he's taken on the entire responsibility of the when, the where, the how and how often she gets off. But here, now, it's still her choice to say, Stop. (And maybe that's the lesson he's leaving her as a parting gift? The fact that if someone doesn't respect your consent, you shouldn't be with them at all.) ]
[ Feathering his lips along her earlobe, he murmurs, ]
If you say No, I stop. If I don't, you kick me out of bed. Does that make sense?