Work Text:
Our passions had led us to West’s bed shortly after a late and wordless supper following his return from the Italian’s hovel at half past seven. As on many evenings, there was little preamble to West’s seductions, and I found myself splayed naked on my back as the clock announced the hour’s arrival. West’s hands roamed my body with none of their usual curiosity, instead settling quickly upon my most tender places with his determined and fastidious grip securing us together. He muttered some unintelligible phrase as our bodies joined in full, though the presence of his nimble fingers and hot breath upon my neck made me deaf to anything but the frantic pounding of our hearts dulled only by muscle and bone. I arched my back in liquid pleasure and my craned gaze caught against the gaslight’s reflection on West’s spectacles, revealing his furrowed brow and sweat-dampened cheeks. Noticing my eyes upon him, he hurriedly cast his spectacles onto part of the pillow not occupied by my head, a wry grin twisting his lips as he thrust forward in such a way that my vision was blurred by my ecstasy. An animalistic whine erupted from my throat and West’s lips sought mine as the movement of his body increased into a feverish speed. His desperation thrilled me in the most indescribable of ways, and it was not long before I shuddered in climax beneath my partner. West, as was common for him, continued his ministrations above me and in those short moments of our differing states my mind began to return to images of West’s tight jaw and pursed lips at the dinner table. Worry brewed in my belly at the thought of Bolton’s police force discovering our scientific endeavors, and it was only when West’s body tensed in a drawn-out shudder that I could truly understand the narrowed eyes that looked down upon me in the hazy glow of the dimmed gaslight. As he slipped free from my body with a low huff, I sensed too that his frantic heartbeat had little to do with our prior activities.
Based on the outcomes of our prior encounters, I was acutely surprised to feel West shift and settle himself upon the pillow beside me after he donned his spectacles once again. I was reminded of the shy dawn following our first successful reanimation, wherein we had lain nearly breath for breath in his bed at the boardinghouse. In light of that memory, I tugged the covers free from the foot of the bed and bundled them around our bare frames before the chill March air could find and cool the sweat covering our skin. West rested his cheek against my shoulder, one slender arm draping itself over my torso as he drew against me in a foreign sprawl. I must have let out a shocked breath at the wonderful sensation of our bodies joining in a manner that was not carnal, for West let out a gruff chuckle and cooed my name and several platitudes in a gentle mockery of my own manner. I wished desperately to exist solely in West’s jovial tone and my dulling pleasure, to pretend that the Italian and the police were mere monsters from a child’s fable that could not pound on our door at any moment.
Lost in my thoughts, it took me several seconds to respond to West’s continued shifting towards the foot of the bed with a hand around his wrist. West’s body tensed and I withdrew my grasp, pulling the covers back in time to catch the sharpness of his profile against the window as he gathered his clothing. My bare breast grew cold in the chill winter air, and as I watched West dress at the foot of his bed I realized that I had come to accept that chilling truth: West could flay me open in the same manner as the countless others we had worked upon together and I would forgive his every incision.