Chapter Text
Her voice to him sounded sweet. She sounded like she was pleading, even when she received what she wanted. She sounded like she wanted more of him. Pleasure overtook Judar as he arched his back, releasing a groan as she released her own moans. Her fingers clawed down the skin of his back, a pleasure he found she gave him without applying enough force to make him bleed or leave marks that would stay until morning. Even when she sought to hold onto him, Judar noticed she treated him with a sort of gentleness he couldn't put his finger on.
Judar wasn't one who appreciated gentleness. As a matter of fact, he hated the very notion of it. Everything that he touched, he wanted to break. He wanted to see how things came apart in his hands, how they shattered and crumbled, returning to dust and ashes.
But when he was with her, alone in his room, he found that his destructive touch was not needed. Where he had exposed the desperate reactions of victims begging at his feet for their lives, he couldn't see the purpose of that with her.
(Y/n). The one who was no different from others except for the way that it seemed evident sometimes that she participated in the game of living reluctantly. Judar found it funny, almost stupid, how she seemed to care only because she had to. When he thought about it, she was a lot like him. Except as much as she found caring for others troubling, she still did it. Judar just didn't have the time for that.
He wanted to see if she would break in his hands at first; give into his harsh words and abuse. But she couldn't be broken. Not because she was strong. No, it was something like the exact opposite. She was like water. Something that was both separate and one. Judar couldn't break her, because she didn't give him the chance to. He couldn't break her, because she was so soft and malleable in his hands that she escaped in a form that continued to go on, no matter what force he applied to her.
Judar found that no matter what he took from her, if there was anything, she didn't react the way he thought she would. He'd tried to hurt children in front of her, and she'd taken them back like he was a child having a tantrum over a toy. He remembered the madness and excitement that took him over when he held the children, threatening to kill them, awaiting the reaction he got from this sweet human.
She'd stalked up to him calmly, as if they'd only just met and she was about to introduce herself to him. Judar took interest in her actions until she looked up at him desperately, reaching for his shoulders. His interest dwindled, that was until, the desperation changed into a look of deadly chill as quickly as a turn of a page. She looked angry and tired at the same time.
It was then that Judar noticed the string around his neck.
Release the children or die. That was the choice that Judar was forced to make, and she made it very clear that she wasn't bluffing. She knocked him out right after, and when Judar woke up, she left behind no traces of their incident.
She was deadly in the subtlest of ways. And she was weak in others. Judar poked, probed until he drove her into the corner. He wanted to know all of her secrets, all of her weaknesses. He wanted to bend her until she broke.
But she already knew all of her secrets. She already knew she was weak. She already knew that she couldn't be as strong as others. She knew it, and she accepted it. And somehow, Judar speculated, that made her stronger than a lot of people.
She was boring. Impeccably so.
But for some reason, he was only further intrigued. He wanted to know if people like her could fall. Into depravity? He tried. He did.
Seduction, he found, wasn't that difficult.
She was callous, but curiosity persevered and he discovered that she was shy. It was incredible, finding that having her hands on him and giving her an intense stare made her so flustered. It happened once, and even when he tried again and failed, Judar knew what he saw.
Under that form of unbreakable material, he found her innocence. And Judar was tempted to take and destroy it. He knew then how to hurt her. How to grind her into dust.
But then again, he'd been wrong.
She acted like it was nothing. Even after he touched her skin and made her whimper, she was back to being her. He took her at night, and by morning she was gone along her clothes, her side of his bed made. There was nothing left of her but her scent.
Judar found himself chasing after her, before he knew it. She was such an unchanging character, indifferent to his antics. No matter how hard he made her heart beat in that one moment, he couldn't make it happen again whenever he wanted to. Judar discovered that she was the one in control.
And he couldn't bring himself to hurt her anymore.
It was in the way she touched him back. Judar never felt so precious until her hands stroked his face in what he would dare to call lovingly. She looked at him with a sincerity as she smiled at him. And her kisses were soft and gentle, like his lips were meant to be savoured. She was supposed to be falling under his spell, but it wasn't long for Judar to figure out whose magic was stronger here.
She confused him. She drove him mad.
One night she would be whimpering his name and grasping at his hair, and Judar would see pink rukh around her, mingling with his blackened butterflies. And the next morning, when he'd approach her, her rukh would flutter by with passiveness, as if the pink touching the essence of her being never happened.
There was a clench in his stomach when he asked her about it. It grew tighter when she answered. He didn't understand. He didn't know. Why was he feeling this way? Why did he feel like his heart was being clenched in a fist?
Why was it that he was the only one who felt this way?
She was unbreakable, and instead of seeing her crumble, he saw what it was like to see a person bloom, unravelling into a flower. She opened her arms to him, and he saw a bird spreading its wings before flight. She called to him, and he heard a song that he knew only she could sing. Judar never thought he would take any pleasure watching anything other than the destruction he caused by his own hands.
But here he was, her in his arms, singing his name into his ear as he held her close. Her body was so warm, the sweat clinging to both of them. He breathed onto her neck, placing light pecks on her nape. Was he the only one conscious of everything? Did she pay attention to the way their bodies fit, how their skin pressed against each other? Did she notice the way his arms held her close, hands splayed onto her back and pressing her even closer to him? Could she feel every motion of affection Judar wanted to give her, all sent in actions for the words he couldn't bring himself to tell her?
Her arms still held tightly around him, even as she panted for breath. He revelled in the way she held onto him; like she was clinging onto a precious treasure she didn't want to lose. Or was that the way Judar held her? Her fingers that threaded through his hair and gripped it had loosened and started to trail down. Judar found that in the afterglow she loved to trace her hands over his body. And to be honest, he liked it too.
Judar rested his head in the nook of her neck, breathing in her scent. Her fingers traced his nape, before roaming over his shoulders, his shoulder blades, and his back. Her palms pressed against each slope and curve, tracing his toned muscles. After going down, she brought her hands back up, to bury her digits in the mess of his hair, and cradle his head in her hand as she turned to trail kisses from his neck to his jaw.
If this was what it felt like to be loved, Judar didn't want it to end.
When she finished touching him, she held him close to her, arms almost as tight as his. They lied together, the two of them holding each other, her stroking his hair. He stayed still and let her do what she want. He found that she did sweet things with him when she thought he was asleep. Be it playing with his hair or humming a soft lullaby while stroking his cheek. Sometimes she played with his fingers, giving them little pecks on the tips and intertwining them. She was a fond person, and Judar liked it.
But it bothered him all the same.
She did loving things to him. When they were alone together, she let him touch her with familiarity. She touched him back and then they were close. But when it was with other people around, she was just as civil to him as she was with everyone else, holding him at a distance.
When they were alone, Judar swore she loved him. He swore that every touch she gave him was gentle for a reason. He was so sure. So sure that her eyes looked at him with a yearning for him. Not for his body, not for the pleasure, but for him. His entire being.
Yet, when morning came it was all gone. And Judar was left with an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. Like something that was supposed to be there was just taken away. And he wanted it bad. He needed it back.
It was a just few hours later, Judar just listening to the beat of her heart, when he felt her shuffle under him. He thought that she left just before he woke up in the morning, but he didn't think that she left him to be alone for so long.
His arms tightened around her and he felt her freeze. A few seconds later, she tried to leave again and Judar nuzzled his face deeper into her neck.
"Don't leave," he mumbled. He didn't care how pathetic he looked to her. She'd just about seen everything about him, and she'd already made him feel things he didn't think he'd ever feel.
"Judar," he heard her whisper. She said it the same way someone would say sorry, and when she did he felt that same clench around his chest that made him want to stuff his face into a pillow and never get out of bed.
She kissed him on the cheek, and trailed her light lips down his neck to his shoulder. Her hands did that thing she loved doing, moving up and down Judar's body, caressing him and pressing him closer to her. Why would she do this? Why would she make him feel this way and then leave?
"Judar," she whispered again. This time it sounded like she was urging him. She wanted to leave.
"Stay," he muttered into her neck. "I don't want you to go."
She sighed, and for once Judar didn't find pleasure in feeling her warm breath tickle his skin. "I'm going."
No. No. He didn't want this. Her voice was a little distant now, not as soft and gentle when she whispered to him. It was like she'd already put up the barrier between them, keeping Judar at arms length when it was day time, no matter how hard he tried to get her attention.
Empty. Lonely. Judar would probably describe the moments after she left with those words. He entertained the thought that maybe she was trying to do him mercy by letting him fall asleep first with her in his arms. Because Judar found that no matter how long he kept his eyes closed, all he could think of was the smell of her hair and her warm skin against his. And how cold the bed felt without her.