The air in the living room feels heavier, or maybe it is simply the space between them that has grown too warm.
Sylvia tries hard not to shift now. Shifting would mean escalating whatever is happening under her right now. The texture of his hair behind his neck feels more prominent against her palm. The awkwardness of the situation is palpable, a grown woman straddling someone's lap in one of the most embarrassing positions possible.
At this moment, she senses a movement. Her gaze glances down briefly, and her eyes fall on his hand, which has shifted near her thigh at some point, furtively. "Ryan, what…?" She just stares at his face.
Ryan gulps, his hands shaking as he tries to hide it somehow. She feels warm… no, too warm. Was she always like this…? The heat radiating from her dulls his senses. His left hand slides slightly closer to her thigh, fingers brushing against her through the fabric of her trousers.
"Don't." She murmurs, her body leaning closer to him unconsciously. Her forehead hits against his, her breathing quickens. "Don't do this…" She still doesn't move.
He finally presses his palm against her thigh, lightly at first, then more boldly. "Syl…" His words break. Her breath, hot and heavy, hits against his skin. His eyes close automatically afterwards.
Her lips finally press against his, dry, hot, and incredibly soft. His own lips part and meet hers without any thought. The kiss starts messy, uncoordinated, and confused. On his chest, her fingers hold his shirt tight, caught between pulling back or going further.
Soon, the last of the resistance vanishes too.
Her lips part wider, the strands of her hair fall over him as she leans closer. The distance between them evaporates completely. She presses her body forward, his hands roam over her body as the kiss deepens further. Her lower lip catches between his lips, then another moment later, she takes over his lower lip…
The kiss turns less civilised. A messy rhythm. A battle of domination. And the increasing wetness around their lips.
For a moment, there is only the sound of their lips and the hurried rustling of their clothes against each other.
Mm… Hah… Mmh…
Just then, Sylvia feels something weird brushing her lips. Her eyes snap open. Her hand presses against his chest as she pulls herself back immediately. She stares at his mouth and his… tongue. "Hah… shit."
Ryan opens his eyes too, and suddenly feels guilty for trying to escalate things so quickly. However, his hands drop down on the couch, his eyes still looking at her, though less hungry and more aware of this uncomfortable tension between them right now.
She climbs down from his lap quickly, her movements unsteady. When she finally stands some distance away from the couch, she doesn't meet his eyes. Her fingers hover near her mouth, then she wipes there with the back of her hand. Then, she looks at him. "Ryan, that was reckless!"
Her voice comes out confused and shaky.
Ryan doesn't answer.
Without waiting for his reply, she turns away abruptly and stomps toward her room. He is left there alone to face the aftermath, while she faces her own thoughts in her room.
"God… way to screw myself. But…" His eyes squint slightly as he stares at nothing. "She made the move first, though… but I guess I am the reckless one?"
Ryan doesn't go to his room during the whole night. He just lies on the couch and then sleeps right there.
The morning is bright, the weather is clean, and the house inside… is a battlefield of silence. The start of the day is casual. Sylvia wakes up to complete her morning routine, but no tease comes out of her mouth today after seeing him. In the kitchen, Ryan still makes two cups of tea, but just leaves it on the counter for her to take rather than giving it to her directly.
However, there is no mention of what happened last night. Neither is there anyone blaming or being angry at each other.
Sylvia is at her desk again, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she works. There is no confusion on her face, just the same attentive intensity to her work. However, the brief glance toward the doorway betrays her composure. Her door is left open today, halfway. But for what reason is unknown.
Ryan, meanwhile, is less composed. He stands ready for college, with neat clothes and nervous taps of his shoe on the floor. He stares at the open door of her room and wonders…
Why is her door not closed today? Is it for me… or did she simply forget to close it?
Time flows faster and his patience wears thin. Finally, he takes a step forward toward her room, and then another…
After a moment, he stops in her doorway. She doesn't look away from her screen, but her hands stop moving. Finally, she turns her head toward him, her eyes narrow before she asks. "You need something?"
His eyes track her expression for any sign of anger or anything else. He asks then, his voice low and restless. "Is it the… same? Or has everything changed?"
Her jaw tightens at his question. Silence. Then, the tension bleeds out of her as she turns her head back toward her screen and shakes her head slowly.
"No… Not everything, just something."
He exhales slowly and nods finally. Taking a step back, a small smile appears on his face as he says just before leaving, "That's good… Take care, I am going now."
She waits for his footsteps to disappear completely. Only when the click of the door sounds from the hallway does she let out a sigh. A slightly resigned, but a smile nonetheless, appears on her lips.
"That's what it is… I guess?"
The house goes silent after that. Only the sounds of her fingers tapping on the keys come from her room. The tension doesn't disappear entirely, but it feels shared now, rather than a burden to be carried alone.
The days that follow after that incident are different, but not much. They still talk, but now there is a strange sense of familiarity in those conversations. They still watch movies together, but with some space left between them when they sit on the couch, not out of anger but simply because of the probability that they might lose themselves again… and the fear that one of them might really decide to leave if that happens.
Despite this, they stay together. They don't know what that 'something' is. But 'something' has indeed shifted between them.
***
***
THWACK! CRACK!
AHHH!
"Ha… No, please… not again…" The whimpering comes when the sixtieth lash smacks against his back. His body is spread open as thick ropes tie his wrists and ankles, keeping his body off the ground.
The man holding the whip glances toward 'the figure', waiting with his hand clenched tight around the handle. The figure simply nods. "Forty are left. He won't die. Medics have checked his condition already after the fifteenth hit. Keep going."
The man takes a deep breath and grunts once before looking back toward the young man. "You have high standards for punishment, but those standards… seem to reek of intent." He doesn't wait for his reply. His arm stretches backward once, the whip swings once, and then he moves again. "Don't worry, boy. I will hit you hard, but leave your vitals intact. It will still hurt though."
The young man braces himself, and then… it lands again.
CRACK!
AHHHHHH…!