Work Text:
Bliss.
Everything was right being with you, seeing the light in your eyes when you see me watching you, when you see me hold out offerings to fulfill your wants. Every day felt like home, basking in your gaze and warmth. I didn't deserve to be here, but I was. You put me here, welcomed me here to worship at your feet. You’re a god, blessing me with your benevolent gaze. You may be human, but you're my God.
“Come here.” You don't even have to address me at this point. I just drop to my knees between your feet, gazing up at your splendor with all the worship and love in my soul. Every breath I breathed was for you, to fuel your heartbeat, to make you smile. As you smile down at me, my heart swells in my chest, knowing I've done exactly what you wanted me to do. Your hands gently curl around my cheeks, a soft, barely there touch, but even that has my eyelids fluttering shut, leaning into it like a starved animal. Every crumb of attention, of care and affection feeds that starving hole in my soul. I'd do anything for this touch, for this blessing of your attention and time. My eyes open to gaze on your godly form, your soft hands gentle on my face. Every inch of you is perfect, every sight of you stealing my breath as if your existence is the only thing I exist for. My lungs only feel full when I'm kneeling in your presence, my heart thudding in my chest all the more valuable by your gaze.
“What would you do for me, mine?” Your voice washes over me, a warm balm, a perfect symphony. It takes a moment for your words to truly sink in, overwhelmed by your simple presence.
“Anything.” I breathe, my head tilting down as if in prayer. “I would do absolutely anything for you. Anything you could ask.” The words are sincere with absolute conviction. I would give you the world if you asked. I would find a way.
“Stand.” Without a thought, I'm on my feet in front of you, my head still tilted down. Your voice is like a divine command I can't resist.
“Good. Get me a drink.” That small word of praise has my heart soaring, my chest full. My feet take me to the kitchen, opening the cupboard to pull out your glass. Even in my house, you have a dedicated cup. Yours. No one else can touch it. I slowly pour your favorite drink, having memorized it what felt like lifetimes ago. The cool glass grounds my mind as I pick it up and pad my way back to you, bowing as I hold it out to you. You think the bow is just pageantry, me being silly, but it's deference, worship, respect. Maybe you do know. You see through me so easily. Your fingers brush mine as you take the cup, and I bite back the gasp, sparks lighting along my skin, and for a moment, I can't even look at you.
“Sit.” My legs give out before I even register the word, nearly collapsing back down onto my knees. I drop my forehead onto your covered knee to try and ground myself, to center myself in the overwhelming presence you have around me. It almost feels like I can't breathe around you in my lungs, you in the air.
“Stay on your knees.” I just nod, trying to catch my breath.
“Hold your breath.” My head snaps up in confusion, but even as I give you a questioning look, my throat closes, my breath stopping. You just smile at me, a hand reaching out to touch my cheek. Your eyes are dark. This is the first time I've ever seen this look on your face. The moment your fingers make contact, my heart melts, my resistance and questions melt away, only caring that I'm pleasing you. Moments stretch. My chest starts to hurt, my head feeling pressure. More moments pass, our gaze locked, and I feel my body start to fight me. My chest is starting to heave. Why are you asking me to do this? My eyes close as I try to keep my diaphragm under control, but your finger taps my cheek.
“Look at me.” My gaze snaps back to yours, and my hand darts up to cover my mouth and nose in an attempt to keep my body from betraying your order. Your dark gaze watches my hand, curious, tapping a finger on the back of my hand.
“Smart. 5.” My chest spasms, my eyes rolling for a second before I force my gaze back to yours. I watch your pupils dilate. I can see the exhilaration on your face. I can see how much you're enjoying watching me struggle.
“4.” I can feel my whole body begin to shake, my other hand clutching at my thigh. Your gaze drops to that hand for a second. When you look back up, your smile is sharklike, starving.
“3.” My lungs are screaming for air. My chest is burning, my head is spinning. I feel like my head is going to explode, but I hold on. I can't even focus on your gaze anymore, but I know you're watching me like both an experiment and a meal. Fuck, it hurts so much.
“2.” My eyes roll back, and I can't stop shaking, my free hand reaching for you blindly. Why are you doing this? This hurts; you're hurting me. You're not- You gently twine your fingers with mine. Every doubt and thought melts away, and all I can do is hold on. I'm doing this for you. I'm doing it because you want it. I won't ever stop you. This time, moments stretch between you saying the numbers. I can feel my vision starting to go black around the edges, my body starting to go weak.
“1. Breathe” The first breath is like razor blades going down, and it feels like I'm choking on it. Divine pain, cleansing my soul of the doubt I had for you, of the fear and distrust that had started in my mind. My eyelids are fluttering as I raggedly gasp in my second and third breath, the air sweet and sharp and painful. All I can do between jagged breaths is whine and whimper, still shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Time stretches as my head spins, every thought sluggish and slow.
“You really would do anything, wouldn’t you?” I nod weakly, my gaze coming back up to meet your inquisitive one. My heart only beats so I can please you. Entertain you.
“You know what I want?” Your voice is calm and thoughtful as you sit back, looking down at me, and my heart flutters in my chest at the thought of being able to please you.
“What would that be, love?” I mumble softly, leaning closer, careful not to touch you. I don't deserve to touch you. You can touch me, but touching you would be to sully and defile you. I really don't deserve to be here, and I'm so thankful to be able to serve at your feet.
“You're going to call your job and quit. Right now.” My heart drops into my chest, eyes widening in surprise. Why… Why would you want me to do that? My brows furrow, my gaze catching yours. Your lips slowly flatten into a thin line, an eyebrow raising as I hesitate.
“Sweet boy.” you say softly, leaning into my space, and my mind stutters to a stop. I force myself to look away from your gaze, pushing my resistance, trying so hard to explain myself.
“I… I can't do that. Please… please don't-”
“Please?” Your voice is low and sweet, smiling carefully at me as a finger tilts my chin up, making me catch your gaze. “Please, I really want you to do this for me. I promise you'll be safe. I wouldn’t make you do something bad for you.” You lean in closer, and I can feel your breath on my face, my stomach flipping and my breath catching in my throat.
“Okay” comes out on a soft breath before I even actually make the choice. The moment those words leave my lips, your touch and closeness are ripped away as you sit back. I can't help but to try and follow you, leaning closer as I let out a tiny little whine. You just let out a soft laugh and gesture toward my phone that I'd set to the side, ignoring it. “Okay…” I whisper again, even as my heart pounds, anxiety curling in my stomach. I can feel my mind going fuzzy and slow as I drift slightly away. I'm barely cognizant, watching as my fingers type out the familiar number. I can't think, I can't absorb anything going on. My emotions slowly go numb as I put the phone up to my ear. I don't know what I've said to my boss, barely hearing their voice, let alone internalizing it. My gaze stays on yours, drowning in it, the only positive feeling I'm currently having. You're a life raft even as you're the reason my whole life is upheaving. I hang up after the words leave my lips, even though I have no idea what I've said, only knowing that I managed to string words together enough to quit.
“Good job.” You murmur, a smile so bright that it's dazzling spreading across your lips as you lean toward me. “I can tell you're slipping away. Stay with me.” Your words sink through the fog in my mind, the only thing I'm able to really think about. It feels like I'm sinking into my soul, but at your encouragement, I start swimming back up, feeling my consciousness expand again. “There you go. I want you. Not someone else in that pretty mind of yours.” I shiver. You want me? You want me. You want me. I can feel my hands starting to tremble, my breath shaky as I look up at you. I know my feelings are blatant on my face, and you just smile. I thought my mind had bent and stopped before, but this has completely wrecked every thought in my mind, the dissonance causing them to shatter into a million pieces. You want me to be here with you. I don't deserve it. I was only here out of convenience, wasn't I? Because I care for you and help you. You only have me here because I listen and take care of you. I'm just a broken, sullied, awful creature. The only thing I'm useful for is caring for you. For fulfilling your needs and wants. I can feel my alters scrambling, trying to claw their way to the surface, but I force the door in my mind shut, blocking them from taking this away from me. I know this is bad. I know this is toxic and awful. I know you're manipulating me, but every moment of your affection and attention is like a drug. Every bit of praise that falls from your lips like oxygen my soul needs to exist.
“Thank you.” I whisper, looking down at the floor between my knees, finding myself surprisingly calm, even as my hands still shake. You just turn from me and pick up a book, and I settle back on my feet, just watching you as you read. I take in every minute expression change, the way you bite your lip, the way your brows furrow. My heart calms slowly, starting to melt into my spot, just watching you. At this point, you're used to how I watch over you.
After a while, you suddenly look up, studying me before you point to the shelf of games I have. “Pick a game for us to play.” I nod easily, standing and making my way towards the shelf, running my fingers over the games. I know you like a challenge. I know you want a game that's difficult. I purposely pick games that I find challenging every time we play. I picked out a card game, bringing it back to you. You move a table between us, and I lift up onto my knees so that I can play. The game proceeds between us, and every time I start to win, you playfully pick on me, making me distracted so you can try to win. Honestly, it's hard enough to focus with how you look at me, how you look while focusing on the game. Somehow, even with all the distractions, I win one game. You call for another one and manage to win, making sure to distract me the whole time. All I do is roll my eyes, but my heart melts at how you tease me for losing.
“It's fun to play with you. You're really clever.” Your words come out as you pick your book back up, pushing the table out from between us, starting to read again. “I genuinely think you're so smart.” My heart sings with your praise, and I can't help but smile. You think I'm smart. I'm useful. My whole world lights up around me.
Time passes slowly, but I'm happy just sitting with you, basking in your presence. Eventually, I pick up my phone and snap a photo of you to keep, catching the way you're reading, your face calm and serene. I can feel my heart swell and I immediately set it as my lock screen, replacing the picture of my partners. Suddenly, your fingers scoop my phone out of my hand, and I make a surprised squawking sound as you take it.
“What are you doing?” I ask, and you shoot me a glance as you start to scroll through my phone.
“Do you really care? Won't you let me do anything?” My shoulders tense, knowing I have poems and stories describing you, knowing I have things I don't want anyone to see on my phone. Why… Why are you taking my phone? What could this do for you? Your phone is right next to you. I start to open my mouth as you start to type one-handed, your other hand reaching out to tuck my hair behind my ear.
Nothing. My mind short-circuited, breath catching with a simple touch. Your touches are so rare, and every time you do touch me, it's like my whole universe realigns. You've touched me so much today. I'm afraid my filth will rub off on you, but I could never deny your touch, even if I wanted to. You hand my phone back to me after a few minutes, looking disinterested as you pull your hand back from me. I glance down at the screen.
No… no no nonono! What have you done? Your text to my group chat with my partners glows in front of me, the pink background and black text haunting my vision.
‘im so sorry, but I think we should break up… my mental health is suffering
and i dont think i can dedicate the time any of you need from me ❤️ ’
It sounds just like me. You even punctuated it like me. My heart is in my stomach, nausea crawling up my throat. My mind is racing. What the fuck? What the fuck ? I can't breathe. The phone starts to shake from how hard I'm trembling, tears streaking down my cheeks. Why would you do this? What? Why? Whywhywhywhy it just circles in my mind, my head growing light.
Your hand carefully covers mine, pulling my phone back out of my hand as a response from one of them pops up. I don't get the time to read it before you turn my phone off, carefully setting it aside next to yours. I'm frozen, my hands in the air as if I'm still holding my phone, just looking at you in horror.
“You said anything.” My breath comes shakily and scared, unable to think or feel anything but horror and despair. Your gaze is cold as you watch my reaction before you slowly lean toward me. “You're mine, aren't you?” I just nod, gasping for breath through the growing panic. Your fingers gently curl around my throat.
Every time you've touched me today feels like a revelation, each one more intense, but this touch has both my fear ratcheting up, and my pulse slowing, the warmth of your hand on my throat soothing while also terrifying. Your gaze melts into warm liquid, making my heart follow suit, the ice around it melting. Your thumb strokes over my pulse before you pull back.
Your phone starts to vibrate on the table next to you, and you glance over at it with a sigh.
“They know you're here with me, don't they?” I swallow and nod, and you reach over, switching your phone off too. “They can't have you.” Despair swirls through my stomach at the loss, but excitement and elation grow through me. You want me. You just keep proving it to me today. I'm yours. Yours . Every breath shudders out of my chest, and I itch to reach for you, but I keep my hands to myself, gripping my thighs to keep my fingers from reaching out to you. You're so fucking perfect. Everything about you is perfect. This is fine. Everything is fine. You've always owned me. I don't need them. I don't want them. Just you. Only you. Tears still streak down my cheeks, a mix of joy and pain. You reach out and gently wipe my tears away before you tap my jaw with a fingertip, thinking before you stand, stepping around me as you casually throw over your shoulder, “stay.”
I feel like a dog, and the shame curls through me even with the feeling of joy of your care. I can hear you shuffling around, and it sounds like you're digging through the silverware. What are you doing? I can see your hands in my mind's eye digging through the drawer. Everything about you is perfect. I swear. I know I would give you anything you asked for. Everything you ask for. The tears stop, but I feel full, this feeling the closest I've ever felt to a religious experience. You come back, sitting down in your chair and crossing your legs, twirling a sharp knife in your fingers. Why do you have that?
“You know what I want most in this world?” You don't even give me time to respond. “I want to keep you for myself forever…” You lean in closer, the knife set on your thigh as you lean on your knee. “I don't want anyone to ever see you. Feel you. Perceive you.” You gently tilt my chin up, leaning in even closer, your breath brushing over my skin. “Would you let me do that? Would you do it for me?” I blink at you, trying to think through the haze in my mind and the thudding of my heart in my chest. I swallow hard, trying not to think about you that way, trying not to imagine your lips on mine, but my heart just stutters. I know you would never bless me with that; I know, I know that I'm sinful, and you know that. I don't want my sin to rub off on you.
“Anything.” My voice comes out strained and soft, barely there, nearly choking on it. You stay exactly where you are but carefully slide the handle of the knife into my palm. My heart stops, abject terror climbing up my spine, warring with the love and devotion curling in my chest.
“Slit your throat” you whisper. Silence. The only sound between us is our breathing, mine shallow and terrified, yours slow and even. I couldn't have heard you correctly. But the way your gaze is locked on mine, it seems like I most definitely did hear you. I almost jerk back, but it's like you know what I'm about to do, your hand clutching the back of my neck suddenly. Your grip is strong, holding me still. I try to fight down the terror, whispering quietly.
“Please… don't…” I can hear the desperation and shaking in my voice. I feel almost nothing. My chest is cold, my mind completely empty except for the word please echoing slowly in my mind. My hand tightens around the handle, the other coming up to carefully, lightly touch your cheek in a pleading gesture. “ Please. ” I choke out the word. I can feel the other people in my mind still clawing at the wood, and I almost let them out, knowing they'll stop this, knowing they'll save me. But you know exactly what's happening in my mind. You know exactly how to stop it, exactly how to make me give in.
“Please, my love.” The world drops out from under me. You've never called me that. You've never used those words in regard to me. Ever. Suddenly, the world is just you and me, nothing and no one else.
“I'm scared.” I say, so quiet that I wonder if I even want you to hear it. But you do. And you do something to wreck my existence even more. Your lips meet mine in the softest, barely there kiss. My breathing stops. My heart stops. The world narrows to the feeling of your lips on mine. I have to fight every instinct in my body to not deepen the kiss, to not kiss you how I want to after the nearly two decades of wanting you. I want to kiss you deeper, I want to bite your lip and taste you. But I can't. I'm filthy, I'm a sinner, I'm wrong. I can only take what you give me. God, you're giving me so fucking much. I don't deserve this! My body goes slack in your arms, giving in, melting into you. The moment that happens, you break the kiss. My eyelids flutter open to look up into your eyes. They're warm and kind. My whole existence is in shambles, my hands shaking with how overwhelmed I am. I'm breathing you in, your existence surrounding me and filling the air as you stay close. I know. Oh God, I fucking know. It doesn't mean anything. That kiss meant nothing to you. Every word means nothing. But fuck I can't. I want to believe it. So I do. I let myself believe that you really want me. I let myself believe that this won't end my pathetic, worthless life. I let myself live in the delusion as I raise the blade to my throat. The fear hits so hard that it rips the breath from my lungs, and I look up at you helplessly. I can't even bring myself to beg, though. I know you won't change your mind. I don't know how I know, but I do. This is my absolute act of devotion to you. My life only matters when it's in your hands. It's yours. Fuck, it's all yours. I'm all yours. My hand shakes as the blade lightly touches my skin. Nausea claws its way up my throat, my stomach rolling, feeling like I'm going to pass out from the level of fear. But you. You know exactly what to do.
Your hand gently curls around mine, holding the knife to my throat, steadying my grip as you lean in close again. My breath catches. Again. I know this means nothing. But this time, your lips meet mine firmly, still gentle, but with a nearly desperate edge. I can taste you and holy fuck I'm drowning in you. Your scent, your taste, the softness of your lips, the soft, barely there sound of our lips pressing and parting. I feel our lips move together, and the desperation to be good for you starts to overcome the fear. This kiss has me lost in your presence, lost in you. You deliver the final move. The last nail in my coffin.
“I love you.” The blade slashes across my throat simply in my shock. I didn't even prepare myself for the shock of ice cold pain, but it quickly fades into nothing, my whole body going cold as my eyes widen, looking up at you. I can immediately tell I didn't actually damage my windpipe, but the surge of blood one hundred percent is a death blow. Tears immediately start to streak down my face as I lose control of my body. I'm clutching at you in my desperation, even as I distantly think about my filth rubbing off on you, faintly thinking about how even my blood is dirty, and it's getting on you. You gently shush me and kiss me one more time before brushing my hair from my face. My blood soaks the front of your shirt, and you lift one hand to your lips, licking my blood off your thumb. Don't… fuck. Don't do that. Don't. I'm going to corrupt you. My blood is dirty… please! I don't know how long I have. I don't know if this will actually kill me. But our phones are off, and you're making no move to grab one. You're not going to call, are you? You're going to make this seem like a suicide, aren't you? Fuck. Fuck. You planned this. You planned this. You knew what you were going to do. God, I loved you so fucking much. I loved you so much that I didn't know how to exist without your attention. I loved you so much that I did this to myself, even though I knew it would kill me. Even though I know that you don't mean it. You don't love me. You don't. Your kiss was meant only to manipulate me. I hope this is what you wanted. I hope you miss me. I hope… I hope I get to see you again. God, please let me see you again. I don't even believe in God, and here I am on my deathbed, praying. I should be praying to you. I start to babble to you, not sure if I'll be able to get enough words out before I pass out.
“I love you, I fucking love you. Please, please, never ever let go of me. Never. I need you, I need you. ” My words devolve into desperate sobs as my vision starts to go dark around the edges. Let me believe I'll wake up and it'll be a dream. Let me believe that you'll save me. Please. Please. My vision goes black, but the last thing I hear is “I love you” and the last thing I feel is your warm lips on my cooling ones. My last thought? This meant nothing to you. I meant nothing to you.