Two couples. Two marriages. Two loves.
One ship. One wreckage.
One death?
Two marriages clash in the first-class cabins of the Titanic, mixing four people in a war of bliss, and pleasure as well as discord and jealousy as two marriages merge above...
His lips were as dry as the deserts of Sahara his mother's side came from. They were unintentionally harsh on your softer ones as they tried to mould into yours in vain. You could sense a hurried manner in the way he kissed you; entirely different from last time when he spent more time on kissing than the actual process.
With his mouth still on yours, Taehyung brought his hands up to the collar of his shirt and ripped it off his robust frame, throwing it over your head so that it hit the wall and slid to the floor.
He leaned back into your face and regained his hold on your lips. He bit on your lower lip, hands slowly making their way down your waist and gripping onto the ends of your nightgown. His hands crept under it. Though not cold, his fingers were unyielding and had a hint of reluctance.
You pulled at the rapidly dissolving strands of your resolve to keep this thing going.
Every passing shadow of a touch he left on your bare waist left a burn which, rather than a passionate tingling as would be usual, left a burn of coldness—if such a thing could ever exist—as cold as the ice sure to be floating around in the surrounding ocean.
"We have no choice," he whispered into your ear when he stopped for breath and leaned his head next to yours on the pillow. "I'm sorry." There wasn't the slightest inkling of an apology in his tone.
Words failed to escape you since, after all, he was right. There was nothing he nor you could do about being forced to be bound together physically if not emotionally.
His hands suddenly prodded the sides of your breast without warning, raising an urgent contradictory desire in you to just melt where you were and let him do anything to you or to flee and not look back again... But sadly neither option was reasonable.
Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers inching further inwards, with his fingers digging into your flesh in a way that was repulsive and satisfying at the same time.
Drowning though you were in the sea of dilemma, you knew you had to dig into this tedious task for the sake of yourself.
But all the determination and nit and grit that you had so far tried to ingrain into your brain broke into irrevocably torn shreds when one of his nails dug harshly into your nipple, making you shrink into the bed, covering your chest with your arms.
