#post-scene

Content note: This post discusses kink, impact play, and the emotional aftermath of scenes, including internalized shame. Please take care while reading.

It always hits after.

Not right away—not while my skin is still tingling or I’m drifting in that floaty space. It waits. Quietly. Until the room stills. Until the air changes. Until I’m left with nothing but myself.

And then it comes rushing in. The shame. The overthinking. The pit in my stomach that says, You went too far again. You always do.

Sometimes it’s immediate—right after he says good girl and kisses my forehead like I didn’t just beg him to break me. Sometimes it’s delayed, creeping up an hour later when I’m washing my hands and suddenly can’t look in the mirror.

I try to tell myself it’s just my brain being loud. That this feeling isn’t proof I did anything wrong. But I still get caught in it. The post-scene spiral.

“Did he actually enjoy that or was he just going along with it?” “Was that even sexy or just sad?” “Why did I need that so badly?”

I wish I could say the shame came from being pushed too far, but honestly? It comes when I get exactly what I wanted.

When I ask for something filthy or degrading or rough and he gives it to me—beautifully, tenderly, perfectly—and I still end up lying there feeling hollow. Like maybe there’s something wrong with needing it at all.

It’s not the scene that does this. It’s the voice that shows up after—the one that says I’m too much and not enough at the same time. The one that thinks aftercare is something you have to earn, not something you’re worthy of.

Sometimes I wish I could just turn it off. Slip back into soft arms and stay there. But even in the safety, my shame is clever. It wears different masks.

Was that okay? Am I okay? Did I ruin it by wanting it too much?

I haven’t figured out how to self-soothe yet. Not really. Sometimes I scroll. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I repeat the same mantras over and over like maybe this time they’ll stick.

This is not who I am, it’s just how I feel. This will not matter the way it feels like it does right now.

But more often than not, I just sit in it. Quietly. Hoping the tide goes out soon.

***

“I’ll go start a bath for you,” Kensi told Deeks as he sat down on their bed with a groan. He’d managed to push through closing the scene and giving his statement, but she could tell that he was stiff and aching.

The ride home had only seemed to exacerbate whatever injuries were hiding beneath his clothes. He’d insisted he was fine though and shot down any talk of going to the hospital.

“Thanks babe,” he said gratefully. Kensi stepped between his knees, pressing a kiss to his lips. It was terrifying to think that they’d almost lost the chance do this ever again. She still couldn’t believe that her crazy idea had actually works.

“Anytime.” She combed her fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to push him down and get started on the baby making they’d talked about. Sighing, she headed for the bathroom.

She filled the tub with water hot enough turn her skin red and dumped in a cupful of lavender bath salt Deeks liked. She was rooting around in the cabinet for a candle when Deeks shouted like someone had stabbed him.

“Deeks, what’s wrong?” she asked, running back into the bedroom as she pictured him lying on the floor, hemorrhaging from an unnoticed head injury.

Instead, she found him sitting just where she’d left him, but now with his shirt half off, stuck on his shoulders. She started to laugh, but then caught sight of his back. There was a deep purple, almost black, bruise covering his mid back all the way to the top of his tailbone.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” She ran her fingertips over his skin. Deeks yelped even though she was barely touching him and craned his head, trying to see for himself.

“I didn’t realize it was,” Deeks answered with a shrug that made him wince. His back muscles tensed as she pulled back the waistband of his jeans to see where the bruise ended. Up close it looked even worse; the his was already a deep purple and slightly inflamed. “I guess the adrenaline from almost getting blown up-again-dulled the pain for a while.”

“This is my fault,” she said, feeling terrible. Deeks frowned at her.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t remember you setting the bombs that caused all this.”

“No, but I did tackle you after we were safe.” She ran her finger just outside the edge of darkened skin, remembering the way his back smacked into the metal door when she landed on him. “I’m surprised you don’t have a concussion too.”

“Well, my head is a little sore,” Deeks admitted sheepishly. At Kensi’s horrified look, he quickly added, “But it’s not that bad. I swear. I’ve hit my head way worse than this before.”

“Somehow that doesn’t comfort me,” Kensi said wryly, rubbing her temple. “Does anything else hurt?” Deeks shrugged and made another face.

“Uh, my left shoulder is a little stiff.” That explained why his shirt was scrunched up around his pecs. Shaking her head, but resisting the urge to scold him for not telling her sooner, Kensi carefully helped him ease the fabric over his sore muscles.

Once the shirt was off, he rolled his shoulder a couple times. It was a good sign that he could move it around at all, but Kensi had a feeling he’d be babying it for a couple weeks.

She moved onto his head, lightly running her fingers over his scalp. There was a small bump at the very back. Like Deeks had said, it probably wasn’t anything serious. Still, she didn’t like seeing him in pain and whatever he might say, she felt responsible.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, looping her arms around his neck. Deeks rested a hand on her lower back, encouraging her onto his lap despite her protests that she was going to hurt him. His hand slid up her back and into her hair, gently guiding her mouth to his.

He kissed her firmly, exuding warmth and comfort. When he pulled back his eyes were soft and filled with love.

“I’m good, baby. We’re good and more importantly, we’re alive,” he told her firmly, constantly running his fingers across her skin. Kensi felt the same urge to keep in constant contact, as thought he might disappear if she didn’t.

This time when they kissed, it was more urgent and Kensi surged against Deeks. He hissed in pain, but refused to let her go, holding her tightly against his chest.

Several minutes later, he pulled back, gasping, his playful.

“I don’t blame you for any of this, but if you are set on making things up to me, he said, pausing to give her a pointed, mischievous look. “I wouldn’t say no to a sponge bath from Nurse Blye.”

“I think that can be arranged,” she told him and he grinned happily. Kensi helped him to his feet, which involved a fair amount of groaning on Deeks part. As she helped him shed the rest of his clothes he added,

“And, uh, there’s a few other parts of me that could use a little special attention.”