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Meg pushes an ice cube past his lips, and Nick rolls it around in his mouth like a piece of hard candy, lets it melt on his tongue until he can barely feel it anymore, until the insides of his cheeks and his palate go cold and numb. (Until awful memories spark in the back of his mind.)
When the ice cube has melted, she crawls into his lap and leans in, warm hands clutching harsh and tight in his hair as she licks her way into his mouth to test the cold. And it's obviously not cold enough, because she frowns against his mouth, pulls back with a frustrated noise and a moue of disappointment painted on her pretty face.
When she presents him with another ice cube, he obediently wraps his lips around it and sucks it into his mouth, watches as Meg's tongue come out to wet dark red lips as he does. Watches her eyes flash black, her breath grow short.
This time, when the ice cube's melted, it's Nick's turn to lean in, to kiss, to slide his tongue into her mouth, lovely and so warm it stings. She bites him for his troubles, sharp and vicious, and when he pulls back she already has another ice cube ready against his lips.
"I'll never be cold enough," Nick says, low and hushed, keeps Meg's gaze firmly caught in his as the ice cube melts against his lips. "I can never be him for you."
Meg grits her teeth, and Nick sees anger and loss and furious sorrow behind her eyes, so well hidden that he doubts that anyone else could ever see it, even if they tried.
It's that longing of hers that makes him finally take the ice cube into his mouth, and the next, and the next. It's that longing that makes him willing to pretend. (And if he's going to be honest, it's really the only reason why he isn't already dead; she had found him, a broken, dying mess of self-loathing and grief, and even though he fears her, even though he hates her, she has become a reason for him to live. Because she wants him, needs him, with a violent desperation that he can't possibly deny.)
When the ice bowl is finally empty, the very last ice cube melting on his tongue, she tests his mouth again. And this time, it seems his mouth is cold enough for her, because it pulls a relieved whimper from her throat, and she kisses him, fierce and frenzied as she bears down upon him until he's lying down, until she's draped over him, hot and trembling.
They fuck like that; not even bothering to shed their clothes, just grinding together in all the right, wrong, sinful ways as Meg moves and twists on top of him, whispering words that aren't really meant for him into his mouth between kisses. "Father, I love you. Only you. No one else. Only ever you, Father. Forever."