Esteemed Malevolence

XXII: Volatile

Sweeney's mind was alert, even though it was the early hours. Sleep was something that he was certain would never come now. His train of thought was too focused on his late wife for him to drift off - it was like the living woman lying over the mattress beside him was non-existent, and instead the obscured ghost of Lucy took him over. His eyes gleamed with such sadness, such guilt as they sliced through the darkness, disrupting the smoke-like shadows. He lay there on his side, contemplating whether he should have even been there in his accomplice's bed at that moment.

He should have left before anything had even started.

At least, that's what he told himself.

However, his guilt did not stop the memories of what had happened those few hours before from flooding back. The sight of Eleanor writhing beneath him due to such dreamlike pleasures engulfing her completely, her impossibly soft skin brushing over his own, the heat that had emitted from their bodies was almost suffocating...

He tried with all his might to conjure up any and all memories of Lucy Barker, even details that he'd never attempted to think about before. Yet he had no such luck where his late wife was concerned, muscles of his arms tensing with aggravation as self-hatred swept over him.

He scowled and squeezed his eyelids harder, attempting to banish the volatile, yet shiver-inducing thoughts of Eleanor Lovett. He felt foolish for allowing her to steal away his thoughts and senses once again... but it was something that occurred more often than his subconscious tended to admit.

He let out a light hum of annoyance when he shuffled his body uncomfortably, like he was physically battling his subconscious to suppress his desire for the dozing baker beside him.

At his quiet murmur of discomfort, Eleanor's eyes cracked open easily. The view of him with his back to her was unexpected, and she only just concealed a gasp.

She hadn't anticipated seeing him laying by her side... especially all evening. She thought he'd already left the room and headed to his usual sleeping spot on the settee in the parlour, at most.

At first, she quietly studied him, presuming that he was deeply asleep like she had been moments before... until she heard him sigh with frustration and shift slightly beneath the covers.

He was awake, and it was clear that he was distressed for some reason.

She felt that she couldn't possibly return to her own slumber now that she knew he hadn't left her to sleep all alone. She let her eyes shut as she felt goosebumps develop all over her body, even under the warmth of her bed-covers.

She carefully shuffled over to him and stroked her hand over his bare shoulder, lightly pressing her body to his back before he could stir and stop her.

His eyes opened wider as her warm skin brushed over him, and internally he was furious at her - she'd yet again infected his thoughts about his late wife. She'd hijacked his brain so that he could now only focus on her, only feel the pleasure which surged through him with each minor touch to his senses.

He gritted his teeth and winced, urging that his anger with her overrided his pleasure... but with each fingertip that trailed over his the skin of his back, that was seeming less likely to win out.

His irritation disappeared immediately when he felt her grazing her parted lips over him. He inhaled deeply, and not one slither of guilt was present in his mind... he was lost in Eleanor again, wondering what the sight of her looked like in the darkness as she pressed kisses to his skin.

His tension eased as he felt one of her hands tracing over the side of his neck, and then up to the side of his cheek. He tried to hold back his deep breath of relaxation, but it was too strong to withhold.