Chapter Text
Jack paused at the end of the chapter of the Peter Wimsey mystery he had been reading aloud to Phryne. He couldn’t see her face, but she lay so quiet and still against him that he assumed she must have fallen asleep. Lord Peter’s antics and witticisms usually had her chuckling along.
Ever since she had first asked him to read to her, he had come to enjoy the strange intimacy of it. It wasn’t only that they were most often in her bed, partially or completely undressed, and it wasn’t only that she had made clear on many occasions how she loved listening to his voice. It was domestic in a way that he had never dared to hope for.
Holding his place in the book with his thumb, he used his free hand to stroke her hair behind her ear. To his surprise, her eyes were open.
“Tired?” he asked.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” she replied.
Dread immediately flooded his gut. Was this it, then? He had thought they were happy; they had made passionate love just that morning, and he didn’t know how he could have misread the look in her eyes as she moved over him. Perhaps, though, they had simply come to the point when Phryne needed something more. Something – someone – different.
He closed the book and set it aside, then pushed himself up into a slightly more upright position. Phryne shifted with him, though she laid her head back on his chest, toying with one of his pyjama buttons. Jack closed his eyes and waited for the blow.
“There’s something I want to do with you,” she said.
That was unexpected. He opened his eyes and frowned at the wall opposite them. “Oh?”
Phryne lifted her head then and met his eyes. “It’s something I’ve wanted to try for a long time, but I never… It requires the utmost trust, and I never had that with anyone.” She cupped his jaw in her palm. “Not until you.”
Still reeling from what he had assumed this conversation would be, Jack could only blink and say, “What is it?”
“You might not like it, and I won’t blame you if you don’t. I want to be very clear about that.” Her gaze fell to her hand, as if her fidgeting with his button had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world. “I’d like you to try holding my throat while we’re making love. Hold it so that I can’t breathe.”
“You want me to… to strangle you?”
“In a manner of speaking, I suppose. It’s said to increase the intensity of the climax.”
“I’ve heard that said, but…”
He didn’t know what else to say. He fully felt the weight of Phryne’s trust in him, and for many months she had taught him to be open about his desires for their mutual pleasure. But this! The risk of hurting her was too great, and the thought of watching himself choke her was repulsive to him.
“Jack,” she said gently. She leaned forward and kissed him. “Jack, you can say no. I won’t be hurt or disappointed. I know it’s a serious, sensitive thing I’m asking.”
“I can’t answer tonight,” he said. He traced his fingers down her slender, fragile, graceful, strong, beautiful throat and watched her eyelids fall, her lips part. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he managed to say through the tightness in his chest, and the multiple meanings were lost on neither of them.
“You would never,” she replied.