Page 32 of Brood
I brush out my hair and adjust the lighting to gold as usual so it looks more blond than white. My face in the mirror is pretty enough but also kind of strained this morning, with shadows under my eyes. I smile at my reflection, relieved at the more familiar face that smiles back. I loosen my braid a bit since I don’t like my appearance with tightly restrained hair. A couple of fine strands escape the braid, but that doesn’t bother me.
It softens my face even more.
My primping doesn’t improve my mood, so finally I give up and return to the bedroom. I don’t glance at Will’s bed. Just head for the closet to get my clothes.
I’ve pulled on my top when Will says, “Come here.”
Glancing at him over my shoulder, I frown.
He’s standing. Wearing nothing but his underwear. Scowling at me. “Come here. Let me see what got hurt.”
“I told you it was nothing.” I thought my mood was under control, but it’s clearly not.
“If it’s nothing, then there’s no reason not to let me check.”
I can’t swallow an exasperated groan, but I walk to him. He gestures toward my bed, so I sit on the edge.
He kneels in front of me and spreads my thighs.
I gasp when the move strains the sore muscles and jerk my legs closed again.
He frowns up at me. “This is more than a little bit sore.”
“No, it’s not.”
More gently now, he eases my knees apart, rubbing the inside line of my right thigh as he widens my stance. When he finds the pulled muscle, I take a ragged breath. He rubs it, slow and easy. “Right here?” he murmurs.
“Yes.”
He rubs the muscle for a minute, gradually opening me wide as he does. Eventually, his fingers slide up toward my groin. He pulls aside my panties so he can see. He’s peering at me there like he might find signs of damage.
“I’m fine there,” I tell him. “Sorer than normal, but nothing too bad.”
His eyes shift to scrutinize my face. “You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” With effort, I manage not to roll my eyes. “Your penis isn’t a weapon capable of carving me open, you know.”
“You’re supposed to tell me if I’m too rough.” He looks as displeased with me as I am with him.
“I would tell you. I have a couple of pulled muscles, and you’re overreacting.”
He spreads my thighs again.
I don’t like that he’s kneeling in front of me like this. I don’t like that he’s acting like my body is his. During sex, it feels fine. Natural and even kind of exciting. But this…
This makes me naked. Vulnerable. Decidedly shaky.
I move his hands away. “I’ve told you a dozen times now that I’m fine. I’m going to be late for work.”
He finally stands and takes a couple of steps back so I can get off the bed. I button my shirt quickly and find a clean pair of pants to pull on.
I know he’s still silently watching me, but I don’t look at him at all as I finish dressing and leave the room.
* * *
All morning, I’m in a bad mood, and when I’m finally done with my first shift, I desperately want to crawl in bed and hide my face under the covers.
More often than I used to, I spend afternoons in our quarters rather than in the Meadow. Occasionally Will stops by for a short break. Sometimes I find myself waiting for him, and I have the impulse today.
