He grabbed some soap and we finished in the shower, getting dressed and laying down in bed, having nothing that needed to be right away. I enjoyed his embrace, it was so calm in our room, the twins asleep, and us just cuddling.
It was silent for a while, I was tired but I couldn’t fall asleep, I didn’t have a problem with it. We didn’t need to speak.
“Bee?” I softly asked after a while. He hummed. “I was thinking, we’ll talk it out, of course, but,” I moved so I could look at him. He turned my way so we could talk, propping his head upon his hand. “N-now, don’t get pissy with me.”
He narrowed his eyes, wondering.
“I-I was just thinking that you know, maybe just k-kill him,” he tensed up, eyes showing the rising mood change. “Because it’s just s-stressful and I think you should- we both should just let it go…” I trailed, feeling uncomfortable, but I wanted to talk about it.
“Yeah, no, honey. That’s not happening,” he dismissed it and went to pull my back to him but I pushed his hand away. He sighed out and rubbed his temple as he blinked at me.
“It’s s-senseless to keep messing with him. Just be done with it,” Benlyam closed his eyes for a second. “Either kill him or just let him g-go-”
“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he cut me off.
“We aren’t arguing about this! I’m not being stupid!” I frowned.
He sighed again as he laid on his back, rubbing his temple, “you sure are acting like it, Viv.”
“Stop,” I warned. I refuse to have this disagreement take this turn. “You’re not listening to me, Lyam.”
He turned back my way. “I am listening to you, Viv- honey. I’m not liking what you’re saying at all, I’m not doing that, I don’t give a fuck what you say,” he said that so gently. “I’m not going to fight with you on this, you’re making it hard. I’m sorry, honey, but no.”
I stared at him for a second.
“Benlyam, just- um,” I swallowed, looking away from him because I couldn’t hold his stare. I didn’t want him alive, it might sound cruel but I didn’t want it. “Keeping him alive, just torturing him s-seems wrong.”
“Violet, listen to me, honey,” he reached his hand out to my chest, even though it wasn’t a promiscuous reach, I still pushed his hand away. He exhaled, slightly irritated. He closed his eyes for a second.
“Stop, I’m not going to do anything,” he reached out against and tapped above my breast. “This,” he tapped, “is too big, honey. Too kind. And this,” he tapped my head and I lightly flinched, “is often led to decisions by that,” he tapped my chest again.
I pushed his hand away from me with a frown.
“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, honey. But on some occasions, it’s not best. Like this for instance,” he frowned at me, “I’m not killing him anytime soon, that would be too rewarding. I’m going to play with my prey for as long as I want, a taste of his own medicine.”
“He did a lot to me. I-”
“And it’s all coming back to him,” he smiled at me, it wasn’t warm.
I raised an eyebrow at him, “a-all? But s-somethings were…”
“I know, honey,” he waved off, “and he’s getting just that. Sex toys are fun if you ask me.”
My mouth fell open a little bit, “Ly- I-”
He shrugged, “shouldn’t have put his hands on an innocent girl.” I sighed out, realizing there was no moving him on this and he pulled me back into him.
“I don’t use my heart too much,” I grumbled as my hand mindlessly traced patterns on his stomach, my hand up under his shirt.
He lightly chuckled. “Yes you do, Flower. Like when you refuse to let the pups ‘self-soothe’. You baby them.”
“Because that’s mean!” I gasped at him, he laughed.
“See? Or when I say to wake up the other twin if one wakes up, keeping them on schedule. Or when-”
I tried to pull away from him, angry. He tightened his grip, sensing my mood.
“Stop it,” I grumbled, cutting him off. “I can ‘baby them’ if I want, you’re not the boss of me.” I glared up at him and he smiled down at me, eyes shimmering with adoration. “They are only four months old.”
“Almost five,” he added and kissed my forehead.
“I don’t care, I will ‘baby them’ for as long as I want!”
He hugged me closer to him, kissing my forehead. “You do that, Flower.” He ran a finger through my hair, “I think Layton is developing your love for socks.”
I glanced down at my sock-covered feet and smiled up at him. “Good. I don’t think Lana likes them,” I frowned. I loved socks, I wore them practically all the time. So comfy and safe. A sense of security.
“I know, I always have to take them off, poor thing,” he laughed. “Which reminds me, your parents said they’ll visit in about two months.”
I nodded, trying not to show my hurt.
Why would they wait? If they haven’t seen their daughter in how long? Maybe they just didn’t care?