cannibal; kendall roy

23

Waking up to Kendall Roy is a strange feeling. Marguerite had started off feeling safe, sort of trapped inside a bear hug—his arms around her waist, and head neatly tucked into her shoulders. But she began to feel more panicked.

Stretched thin.
She felt less air.

The panicked and sober feeling of having him in her presence—and that last night hadn't been a blissful dream. Sober Marguerite couldn't handle his limbs twisted and conflicted with hers— a soon to be waking man who would attempt to thrust out complicated words and sentences she didn't have time for.

This was a terrible idea.
It was bad.

She felt sort of wracked with guilt as her eyes set over her father's diaries—one of which was sitting on her nightstand in front of her. He'd be ashamed of her, wouldn't he? The fact that she'd brought the Roy back into her home, especially after reading through hundreds of his concerned and love lorn pages about the family and how dreadful they could be.

How he'd worried for her when she'd been in their company, how he was unsure of who she was. How he didn't necessarily approve of Kendall's lingering presence in her life. All he knew. All he had known before he had passed.

She'd kick him out when he woke up.
She'd asked him to leave.
She'd be polite.

Even if that wasn't what she wanted to do. But it was what she needed to do—it was what she owed him, wasn't it? Be the big girl? The girl away from it all? Hell—but then she could remember most of the previous night and most of what she wanted to do was repeat it all.

That was what her heart wanted at least. Or her heart—partially hungover, busted and wheezing, wished her to rely on for the moment. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand glide up her arm gently, spreading an extra layer of warmth to her.

"Morning." He said groggily before sitting up, looking down at her wide eyed. Sobriety looked nice in his eyes. Big and brown, almost swollen.

"Hi Ken" she said, pulling the covers up, earnestly trying to cover herself and hopefully evade any further activities, even if she desperately wanted them.

"What? Are you getting shy on me?" He teases "I've seen you all before Lou, I like it." Kendall bends over, pressing a kiss to her forehead, causing her cheeks to heat up a little bit.

"Ken, stop it" she mutters blinking a few times to let her eyes adjust to the light. They'd been here before, in the same situation.

Only now, Kendall didn't have to go home to anyone. He was unemployed. His father had fired him. He had no wife, and his kids were undoubtably with Rava. He crawls over, on top of her and sort of just sits there for a minute, before crashing down next to her, seeming wildly fascinated with her hair in the light, New York sun.

"I've missed this" He murmurs, picking at a thick strand of hair, fingers mulling over it, watching the hair fall into pieces—so there was just one left. A piece for him to pick and prod at.

"Missed what? Having sex?"

For someone set on kicking him out, she was doing a poor job of illustrating such.

"Nah. Fuck off. Why would I become a priest?"

She shrugs "Was it good though?" She asks, tilting her head a little bit

"Hmm" he trails off "What do you think?"

"Has to be better than it was back then."

"It was always fucking good. Don't lie." He says, practically grinning like a god damn cat.