*Trigger warnings apply. Incest, sex, violence and general angst.*
Sweat has formed between their palms, from the heat between their skin, and she’s comforted by the sticky feeling. The comfort is accompanied by a great, overwhelming desire- a desire to be closer to him, to pull him apart and share their insides, to forge a bond so deep that nothing can break them apart.
Please promise me that we are one. That when the world ends we will lay together and let our bodies tumble into dust.
She’s been waiting hours to wake him from his drunken slumber. She squeezes his hand tightly, until he opens those cobalt blue eyes and stares directly at her.
But it’s not the look she was wanting. It’s not the man she was hoping to see. Frowning, she closes her eyes then opens them again.
Disappointment forms a cloud around her. Disappointment chokes her desire. She is looking into the face of someone she would give her life for, someone she carries inside her wherever she goes, wherever she stumbles. Whenever she lays herself down for another, he’s with her, like a lost scream always echoing…
But that’s not the person she has awakened today. Today it’s not the man, it’s the boy.
“Bethany, what are you doing here? Where’s Bella?”
Jasper never seems to enjoy the evenings when he awakens to find his bedroom window wide open and his niece sprawled next to him in bed. She knows she confuses him, especially when she stares at him with longing, her eyes constantly searching for something he doesn’t understand. It’s not that she doesn’t love Jasper, it’s just a different kind of love. It’s the quiet kind of love, the kind that rests gently in the heart and stays there, warm, perfectly comfortable with no need to burn and boil and no need to make noise.
That’s not the kind of love she’s ever really needed. Soft hands don’t tame wild animals. It takes the rough strength of a powerful man, a King, to pull her back from the abyss. Just one word from the mouth of a leader could inspire a fire of utter devotion and the stillness of complete compliance. And that was what she thrived off.
“I want to play”
“Yes, and I don’t want to play with you, okay? Now c’mon. Give him to me.”
“What? Bethy you’re not making any sense,” Jasper was bewildered, confused, he didn’t understand anything, “Why don’t you go find your mother?”
“Nah, she’s dead. C’mon I wanna play!”
When she wanted something she had to have it. When she felt something she had to feel it. That was her way…forever a boundless child. Her needs had to be met, always, instantly…
Now, give it, give it to me now!
Her spirit wanted to soak up everything around her like a sponge, only to let it all drip out, dirty, onto the floor when she was done.
“Come on!” she starts to shake Jasper’s shoulders with frustration. He tries to swat her away, still half asleep.
“Bethy, let go will you!?”
She stands and starts jumping up and down on his bed.
“I want him, c’mon, I want him. I’m ready to playyyy!”
“Jesus, what the hell are you on about? You’re bloody mad. Go get me a drink huh?” he pushes at her absently, but something in his eyes whispers of fear.
Bethany jumps onto him, straddling him and pressing her lips hard against his, her hands clenching either side of his face, her nails digging into his skin. She feels him shudder and try to fight beneath her, but then he becomes very still. She lifts her head and looks into his eyes.
There. There he is.
He gives her that look. But she just grins.
“Fucking hell Bethany, was it necessary to go and freak him out like that?”
“What?” she bats her lashes, her eyes wide.
“Don’t what me. Your Uncle J…I’ve told you that you can’t just jump all over the kid like that! He’s unstable.”
She pouts and shakes her head, “I’m not in the mood for him.”
“Oh, so it’s all up to you now is it, child of mine? Whatever you want whenever you want it and it doesn’t matter who you fuck up in the process?”
“Pretty much, yes.”
Something in his eyes becomes profound and darker when it’s Daddy. He’s like an ocean…so many shades of blue. Some are light and crystal clear, some are so dark you can’t see through them. You can’t see the top or bottom when you are engulfed - your feet, your hands, they search but can’t find the floor…they are immersed entirely. Warm patches, cold patches, salty, wet.
She takes a breath. He’s glaring at her.
“Okay, yes, fine. You’re here now though, and I missed you.”
“You always miss me, baby doll,” he murmurs, his expression softening slightly.
She touches his cheek and looks directly into his ocean, into the waves of pain and suffering. He allows her the moment, then moves his head suddenly and irritably, lifting her off him.
He gets up and stands at the small table near his bed that’s filled with half empty bottles of alcohol, small specks of cocaine and crystal glasses stained with lipstick, and fixes himself a vodka, then pours a tequila for her. She pulls a small cigar out of her purse but doesn't light it, putting it aside after a moment and watching him as he shots the vodka and pours himself another.
“So…am I gonna have to fuck Grigori?”
“Bethany,” he throws her that look again, taking another shot before putting his glass down.
“What? You’re my daddy, aren’t you meant to offer me marital advice? Guide me through the world with all your wisdom…blah blah blah?”
He smirks and returns to the bed, handing her the tequila and sitting back against the cushions.
“Do whatever makes you happy.”
“You make me happy, can I do you?”
She downs her tequila in one mouthful, tossing the glass aside as she crawls across the bed and reaches her hand slowly towards his crotch.
“What?” She looks up at him coyly as her hand grasps him tight. He expands fast and hard between her fingers.
“Bethany, don’t…” he mutters, though he doesn’t pull away.
“It’s not healthy for you. It’s not healthy for us...”
“Oh please,” she interrupts him, rolling her eyes, “Since when do you give a fuck what’s healthy? You just had vodka for breakfast!”
He frowns, those eyes changing again as he becomes serious. She knows that face. Serious parent face.
“Bethy, we can’t just keep doing this. I don’t want to hurt you...”
“You don’t want to hurt me?” she laughs and forces her nails into his erection, “Bullshit, Baelian…”
“Bethany Black!” he raises his hand as if to slap her and she lets him go, leaning down like a cat submitting mid-fight. His eyes are blazing, his jaw tightening as he glares at her.
“Sorry, Daddy,” she offers, with a twinkle in her black eyes.
He blinks at her, exhaling loudly and shaking his head.
“See? This is what I mean.”
Bethany heaves a sigh and wriggles her slender body away from him across the bed, leaning to pick her glass up off the floor with far more grandeur than she needs to. She can feel Baelian’s eyes scanning the curve of her buttocks beneath her sheer slip. Turning back around, she pretends not to notice his stare as she offers him the empty glass.
“Top up please, Daddy?”
She catches his gaze as he lifts his eyes, and they look into each other. Time halts. His breathing becomes deep, rapid…her heart pounds with anticipation.
Baelian knocks the glass out of her hand, sending it smashing against the bedpost, leaping onto her as she laughs and wraps her arms around him. His lips taste her face, her neck, teeth raking over her skin, devouring her.
But daddy you said we shouldn’t…you said we shouldn’t…
Bethany lifts her leg around his waist, drawing him hard against her as she grinds closer. She arches her back so her breasts are forced up against his chest, letting her head fall back off the side of the bed as she closes her eyes.
-It’s you. He killed himself because of you-
Bethany wriggles her body in frustration, trying to shake out Belladonna’s voice as it circles inside her head.
-Spoiled. Little child. Get what you want. Suffer…stop. Get what you want. Spoiled. He doesn’t want you. He does not want you, Bethany Black. Little child. Spoiled. Stop. Suffering. You make him suffer.-
She draws his head up suddenly, clutching his face tightly.
“It’s not what you want, I don’t want to do something you don’t want! We can’t...” she whispers, her big round eyes all at once so earnest, so innocent.
He gives her a pained expression tempered with lust, “Bethany…”
“You’re right. We shouldn’t...”
His head hangs heavy, his face presses into her chest.
They lay there entangled, silent and still.
Baelian’s touch mindlessly runs over her petite neck, his fingers tracing her veins slowly. She vibrates slightly as he wraps one hand around her throat, frowning before he squeezes it. Her eyes pop open in sudden pleasure, her mouth opening ever so slightly to sip some air. Instinctively, he trails his other hand down her soft body to caress between her thighs. The jolt of his touch is electric and she melts like hot butter, giving in to passion as she erupts in ardent convulsions of pleasure.
She could stay here, delicate and vulnerable beneath him, forever. Her entire body is suddenly caught in intoxication, on the edge of life and death, fragile and trembling beneath his hand…a hand that could break her, that could easily squeeze the very last breath of life from her.
Sip…sip…sip. Tight, tight…tighter.
The pressure increases and as it does her gasps of air get smaller. Her body arches against him, writhing. She can feel his aroused response, he’s hard against her thigh and she loves it, immersed in the perverse pleasure of it all. Dark eyes widen and meet his. She can’t get enough.
Harder. Harder, harder…don’t stop, keep going. Kill me, please just fucking kill me…I fucking hate you, I hate you so fucking much. Kill me, take it all away. Take it all away with you, you do anyway…at least now I give you fucking permission. Fucking take it, end it, end my misery. I hate you so much. You don’t even know it. Fuck you. You make me sick.
“Bethany…” He sees the death wish in her eyes, and releases her.
She coughs and sits up, “What?”
“That’s not how we play this,” his eyes are cold, distant. The desire drains away.
“Daddy, what are you talking about?” she reaches for him again.
“Bethany, no,” his voice takes on that tone of paternal seriousness again.
She feigns confusion, then pushes him down and jumps quickly on top of him. Fervently she starts kissing his neck, her hands desperately clenching the fabric of his nightshirt, knuckles pressing into his ribs.
Please don’t leave me.
Her lips meet his ear as she whispers, “Let’s makes some more babies together…”
This stops him dead. Baelian shoves Bethany off of him so hard that she almost hits the wall. He’s up in an instant, pacing the room in his black silk pyjamas.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Bethany Black!? You want me to kill you? You want me to make you fucking pregnant? Are you insane?”
Yes. So are you. Isn’t that the fragile thread holding us together?
“You are the most delusional creature I’ve ever met! I’ve encountered the cruellest and most twisted people out there but you, my fucking child, take the bloody cake right now. Get the fuck out!”
Her heart sinks. It sinks down further than her stomach, it sinks to the floor covering it entirely in blood. Her eyes sting as impending waves of tears wait to be unleashed down flushed cheeks. She stands up.
“Fine. It was just a joke!”
Grabbing her purse in a huff and trying to mask the trembling inside, she strides across the room to the doorway, letting the tears fall as she pushes the double doors open. She can feel his eyes burning into her back. He calls her name, but she doesn’t stop, turning the corner into the dark hallway.
I can’t do this.
She feels like a ghost, watching herself living a life she can’t control. She wants to jump and wake up, but she doesn’t know how, or where to jump to. All she can do is keep watching and waiting.
Her wrist is caught as he comes up behind her suddenly, taking hold of her and yanking her back. She struggles.
“No, fuck you, I’m leaving!”
“The hell you are!”
“No, you told me to go, so I’ll go…leave me alone…”
“You’re not going anywhere until you calm the fuck down…”
“Let me go!” She struggles, he forces.
“Bethany Belladonna Black!”
She stops resisting, whirls around and slaps his face hard. Just as quickly as the tingles paint her palm red she realises what she’s done, falling at his feet immediately.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy…please, forgive me…I’m…”
Too late. She gasps as she’s dragged up by her hair, her small body hurled against the hallway wall as his strong hands clamp on her shoulders. He spins her about and pins her in seconds.
“Don’t you fucking ever do that to me again!”
“Yes, Daddy, I’m sor…”
Her words are silenced by his lips as he crushes them against hers, his teeth raking over them until she can taste blood. He rips apart her slip, tracing her body with his hands, fingers squeezing and pulling at her flesh, nails dragging over her skin. She slides her arms around him, drawing him down to the floor, legs lifting to wrap around his waist before he can think of escaping.
Please promise me that we are one. That when the world ends we will lay together, and let our bodies tumble into dust.
Her small hands slide down his chest, fingertips feeling all the scars and marks beneath the silk of his pyjamas before continuing their path downward, his fingers tangling with her own and making quick work of the clothing in their way. Their eyes meet…blazing blue and endless black.
You hate me as much as I hate you, don’t you? I can feel it inside you. Can you feel it, too?
All she’s ever wanted was for him to look her in the eyes and tell her “everything will be ok” until she believes him…and for him to look back and see in her eyes that it was true. But that was not their fate.
Their bodies melt the moment he enters her, blurring together, tangling and holding. Amidst rough kisses that sear away the heartache they bite, pull, rip, slap…their limbs graze and burn against the carpet painfully. She clings to him trying to draw him deeper, harder, faster…enough is never enough.
It isn’t gentle, it’s never been gentle between them. There’s too much love, too much hate…she can hear it marching loudly to the pounding in their blood. His hands twist in her hair, then around her throat as he tries desperately to find something in her to hold onto to stop himself from drowning in the chaos. But she knows she can’t help him. She’s drowning too.
Too wild to last, too rare to break apart.
He moans her name and she calls him Baelian as she orgasms. For one tiny moment it feels as if the universe is more alive just for her, for them, filling her with raw energy and light…an incandescence in the dark of the hallway. She cries out and he groans, begging for a release that always seems just out of his grasp. When he finally comes, it’s with tears and sobs and pleas for forgiveness. It jolts her sharply back into reality and she hates herself more and more as the tingles of pleasure fade from her body.
They eventually separate- laying on the hallway carpet, panting and sweating in silence -their minds busily navigating the cobwebs of shame and the suffocating feeling that they’re killing each other slowly.
Finally, unable to take it anymore, Bethany sits up and smiles at him though it doesn’t reach her eyes.
He perks a brow, staring at the ceiling, “Yes, baby doll, thank you.”
She tries to stand, but ends up crawling back into his room, which at least makes him snigger. After a moment he gets up and follows, avoiding her eyes as she fusses with his vodka. She looks to the window as a light illuminates the driveway in the distance. Her heart sinks slightly.
Bethany hands him his vodka, moving to gather her shoes and purse without another word, drawing her coat over her torn negligee. He doesn’t tell her to leave, and she doesn’t try to stay. They have this part of the dance perfected.
“You know you can just use the door…” Baelian murmurs to her as she moves towards the window and climbs onto the ledge. She looks at him with wide, dark eyes and shrugs.
He smirks at her, moving to her side when she beckons him closer. She kisses his lips gently, brushing back his damp hair and frowning.
“Is it…is this…wrong, or is it right?” she asks him softly, blinking as his blue eyes shift through their catalogue of feelings. He sighs, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw.
“I think…” he says finally, “That it’s something else entirely.”
“Whatever it is, I love you, Daddy,”
“Love you too, Bethany Black. Now get out of here before your Uncle J’s wife finds you in her husband’s bedroom.”
Rolling her eyes, Bethany climbs out the window and shimmies skilfully down the drainpipe, walking through the vast gardens surrounding her Daddy’s home. She breathes in the crisp air, noticing the snails, the slugs and the few broken flowers. She removes her shoes and runs barefoot across the grass, closing her eyes and picturing her Daddy. Even now, she knows he’s the one thing that makes her feel alive and beautiful, if only for a moment. Fleeting and tortured as they are, the stolen moments between them are all she has.
She belonged to no one, but him.
When she finally arrives back at her apartment, Bethany makes a point not to shower as she falls onto her bed. She clasps her hands between her thighs as she lays there, curling into a ball and breathing her daddy’s lingering scent deep into her lungs as she drifts into a dreamless sleep.
Written by Pippy Scream. Edited by Natalie Ristovski.
All characters and story lines remain the property of N.Ristovski and the Underground. All character writings within the Underground are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015. Natalie Ristovski.