kee (bs)

You hope that the god who put you in this hell gets struck down. Better yet, you hope they get dropped into it. Then they'd understand.

They'd understand what it feels like to have the flesh peeled from you by rough, bare hands.

To watch your own limbs hang on by threads of muscle, and to stare long enough at the dangling veins that your pain-sick mind starts mistaking them for worms - burrowed in, settled.

They'd understand what it feels like to have your teeth pulled one by one. The cold press of metal against your mouth. The sharp, rhythmic resistance, and then the snap that lives in your skull long after.

The wet, slimy fullness of your own mouth. Every swallow tasting like metal. The hollow, gum-soft absence where something solid used to be.

Most of all, they'd understand the helplessness - the kind that never settles, never becomes something you get used to. Each time it would hurt more than the last.

You've tried. And tried.

You tried complying - listening, apologizing, begging for forgiveness. You still watched your tendons stretch and snap, his smile never faltering.

You tried the police station, timing it for the night you knew he'd come. One nap. That's all it took to reset everything.

You tried staying awake. Caffeine until your hands shook. One slow blink and the day started over.

You tried fighting back. Running. Killing him. Killing yourself. None of it mattered. The loop just continued.

There is no way to win. And somewhere along the way, you stopped seeing a reason to.

You reached over and checked your phone. A few texts, a missed call or two - all the same. The screen read 4:00 AM.

He would come in a few hours. He always did.

The apartment, the street, an alleyway - the grocery store, once. It didn't matter where. He would find you.

You set the phone down. A dull ringing sat in your ears, and beneath your skin, the ghost of pain was still settling.

Fine. Alright.

If none of it counts, then none of it counts - you've decided you might as well have fun. Right?

ᯓ

You must have drifted off.

An arm wraps around your waist and pulls you back against a warm chest. Too familiar.

Your eyes open to the ceiling. The cracks haven't changed.

"Don't scream," Daniel says, his voice raspy and deep - rough and gravelly against your ear.

You don't move or say anything.

"Missed you," he murmurs against your neck, his breath hot. His nose brushes against the nape of your neck, triggering goosebumps to rise along your arms. "Missed you so much," he says again, softer this time, and you can feel him inhale into your hair.

You still don't move, allowing his hands to roam around your lower torso.

"'ve been workin' on myself," he continues. "Seeing a psychiatrist. I'm gettin' better."

You turn to face him. In the dim light, you catch the surprise flicker across his features before suspicion takes over.

You lift your hand and press it against his chest, your finger tracing slow circles into his skin. "Hi," you say softly. The sweetness in your voice tastes wrong in your mouth, but you force it out anyway.

His eyes narrow immediately to the otherwise sweet gesture. "What are you -" He stops himself. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." You reach up and touch his face, fingertips brushing his jaw. You let your hand slide down slowly to his chest.

His heart is pounding hard beneath your palm - you can feel it hammering against his ribs. Something inside of you takes pride in that, unfortunately.

"You're lying," he says flatly. His grip on your waist tightens, fingers pressing into your skin. "You're planning something. You think I don't know when you're - "

You cut him off with a soft kiss - sudden but gentle, shutting him up mid-sentence. You lick his lips slowly and his breathing hitches. You pull away just enough to speak.

"I'm not running," you say softly, your voice still sickly sweet.

His face is a mess of confusion and suspicion, eyes searching yours like he's trying to figure out what you're doing.

You surge forward and crash your mouth against his again - this time it's hard, violent, all teeth and tongue. Your tongue forces past his lips and he makes a surprised sound in his throat.

For a second he's caught completely off guard. Then something shifts. His hands grip your waist harshly, fingers digging in deep, and he's kissing you back just as hard - matching your aggression with his own. His tongue meets yours with equal intensity, wet sounds of the kiss filling the space between you.

Small, breathy gasps escape between your mouths as you both breathe, desperate and urgent.

Your hands move between your bodies. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear and start sliding it down while you kiss him, wet and aggressive. The fabric catches on your thighs for a moment before you work it lower.

As you peel the underwear down, you feel his entire body go tense. His grip on your waist tightens almost painfully, fingers digging in harder. His breathing changes - becomes heavier, more ragged against your mouth.

You break away suddenly. A thin string of saliva connects your mouths for a moment before it snaps. His breathing comes out ragged and uneven. His lips are swollen, slick with spit.

You kick your underwear off completely - it tangles around your ankle for a second before you shake it free - and toss it aside.

Daniel stares at you. His chest is rising and falling fast. His eyes drop down between your legs and go wide. His mouth parts slightly.

"What are you - " he starts, voice breathy and shocked, like he can't get enough air.

You don't let him finish. Your hands slam into his shoulders and shove him down hard. His back hits the mattress with a dull thud. His blue baseball hat flies off his head and lands on the floor with a soft thump. The mattress shifts and creaks beneath you both.

He tries to push himself up immediately, eyes flashing with anger despite his previous temperament. "What the fuck are you - "

"Shut the fuck up," you command, voice sharp, "and be good for me."

You climb over him, knees bracketing his head on either side, and drop your full weight down onto his face hard and fast. No warning.

He goes completely rigid beneath you - shocked by the sudden pressure, the weight of you pinning him down.

His hands fall away, pressing flat against the mattress. His eyes are wide, staring up at you from between your thighs, pupils blown with surprise.

He's not moving. Not even breathing.

Your pussy is pressed firmly against his mouth, your full weight bearing down on him. The shock of it seems to have stolen his ability to react.

The warmth of his breath hits you first. He makes a small, strangled sound in his throat - surprise or confusion or something else entirely. His whole body tenses beneath you, muscles going taut.

For a moment, nothing happens. He's just frozen there, and you wonder if you've actually broken him.

"Come on," you murmur, shifting your hips impatiently, you can feel his lips rub against the slick folds of your pussy. "Use your mouth."

His tongue slides out tentatively - just the tip at first - licking up the length of your pussy before it lays flat against you, unmoving.

He's fighting it - you can feel the tension in his jaw, the way his hands are clenched into fists against the mattress. His breathing is ragged through his nose.

You shift your hips forward slightly.

"I said use your mouth," you demand looking down at him, your voice still breathy. "Daniel."

His tongue flicks hesitantly once before licking a long stripe against your inner folds. His eyes are narrowed but then his tongue slides deeper making you jolt slightly, a small gasp leaving your mouth.

Another lick, less tentative this time. His hands twitch against the mattress, fingers uncurling slightly.

You press your weight down harder into him - deliberate, unforgiving.

His hands come up and grip your thighs hard, fingers digging in deep enough that you know there'll be bruises tomorrow.

His tongue plunges into you - deep, aggressive, fucking into your cunt with sudden desperate need. The slickness of you and his saliva mixed coats his tongue immediately. He's making raw, muffled sounds against you, groaning like he's starving, like he's been waiting for this - wet, sloppy groans that echo against your pussy.

"Fuck," you breathe out, grinding your hips into his face with a back and forth motion.

From above, you watch his eyes lock onto yours for a split second - dark, intense, burning - pupils blown so wide they swallow the color completely. His eyelids flutter.

The wet sounds are obscene and loud in the quiet room. Your hips jerk involuntarily, trying to pull away from the intensity of it, but his hands clamp down like a vice and shove you back down onto his face.

He doesn't care that you're squirming. Every sharp gasp and moan that leaves your mouth makes him more desperate, more frantic. His tongue plunging deep inside you, dragging up to your clit, back inside again. Over and over. Relentless. He sucks on your pussy, the pressure intense and overwhelming, and when you let out a particularly sharp cry, he groans against you.

When you glance down again in between pants, his eyes are glassy and unfocused, rolling again like he can't control them. His face is flushed a light red beneath you. He looks absolutely wrecked - this version of him is completely intoxicated - nearly delirious.

Not once have you seen him like this.

Not in any loop.

"Good boy," you gasp out, and he groans against your pussy - the vibration sends a shiver through you. "Fuck - yes - so good for me."

He loses it completely. His tongue moves faster, sloppier, more desperate. He's eating you out like he's trying to devour you, like he can't get deep enough, can't taste enough of you. His hips thrust up against nothing, seeking friction he's not getting. All he cares about is your cunt on his face.

You can feel him shaking beneath you, his whole body trembling with need. His eyes flutter open for a moment and lock onto yours again - pupils blown wide and dark, completely lost - before they roll back once more.

When you try to shift your weight, overwhelmed by the sensation, he yanks you back down hard, pinning you to his mouth with bruising force. His tongue thrusts back inside, fucking you relentlessly.

His breathing comes in ragged, desperate pants between movements of his tongue - hot air against your skin.

His tongue drags up to your clit and flicks rapidly, precisely.

You gasp, your hand shooting out to grip the headboard for balance.

His hands shake where they grip your thighs, and he's making these broken, needy sounds against you - half-groans, half-whimpers - like he's the one falling apart. His eyes are barely open now.

The pleasure coils tight and hot in your core. His mouth is relentless - sucking, licking, tongue pushing deep inside you before returning to your clit.

You try to lift yourself again on instinct, overwhelmed by how close you are, his hands force you back down aggressively, keeping you pinned to his face.

His eyes flutter open one more time, that glassy stare meeting yours.

The orgasm hits sudden and sharp. Your body locks up, thighs clamping around his head as pleasure crashes through you in waves.

You bite down on your lip hard enough to taste blood - metal and salt on your tongue.

He doesn't stop. He works you through it, tongue gentling but never ceasing, drawing out every last aftershock.

He's still making desperate sounds, greedily lapping at the wetness - his tongue working to catch every drop. He sucks, then licks, then sucks again, like he's trying to pull more out of you, like he doesn't want it to end. The sounds that fill the room are almost grotesque.

You lift yourself slowly, thighs trembling as you pull away from his face. His hands slip from your skin reluctantly, fingers dragging down your legs like he's trying to hold onto you for just a moment longer. He gasps for air the second you're off him, chest heaving beneath you.

Face flushed and wet, eyes glassy and unfocused, he looks completely wrecked. His hands are still reaching for you, fingers twitching like he wants to pull you back down.

You collapse onto the bed beside him, chest heaving.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks.

ᯓ

You blink. Your eyes are sore.

You wake to a smooth, cream-colored ceiling.

No cracks. No peeling paint. Soft morning light filters through unfamiliar curtains. A rooster crows in the distance - harsh and grating.

You sit up slowly, heart pounding.

Your eyes scan your body - arms intact, legs intact, skin smooth and unbroken.

You run your hands over your ribs, your stomach, checking for the familiar marks of his handiwork.

Nothing. No missing pieces. No wounds. No blood.

Besides the chain around your left ankle, everything is intact.

The loop should've restarted. It always does.

But it didn't.

Fear crawls up your spine.

You haven't felt this since the first time you woke up in this nightmare.

Since you realized there was no escape - no reset button, no way out.

Now it's back - and you're not sure if this is worse.