No More Wishes (Cheating!Reiner X Bertholdt Fanfic)

Part 7

Ad nauseum.

It was something Latin. Reiner had mentioned the phrase very long ago, back when he was gung-ho about history and ancient civilizations (most prominently, Rome). Nothing ever became of that interest, though.

Ad nauseum.

To repeat something until it has become tiresome.

"Do we have cigarettes?"

Reiner pushed himself off of the bed with a soft groan. "Uh, yeah. There should be some in the top shelf."

Bertholdt was already standing in front of the drawer. He pulled it open, and as expected, found nothing — just assorted clutter. Mildly irritated, he shoved it back. "Any other ideas?"

"No clue. I don't have any on me." He yawned. "Have you checked your pockets?"

"I've already done that." There was an edge to his voice — his body's response to the shame and frustration flooding his system. Bertholdt sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

He heard the bedsheets shift. "You feeling alright?"

"Yes, I'm — I'm fine, I just..." He clenched and unclenched his fists while his stomach knotted. Bertholdt couldn't decide who he was more mad at: Reiner, for seducing him, or himself, for succumbing to his weakness. All that he could sense, however, was a thick smog of anger irritating his throat and lungs. If he coughed, he would scream, and then he would cry — none of which would be happening tonight.

Bertholdt didn't like to smoke after sex, much less stark naked. It made the back of his mouth dry and left a sulphuric taste. The smell of burnt paper would cling to his skin and only be removed with a thorough shower. However, he liked the prospect of cuddling with his husband even less, so he'd chose the lesser of two evils.

After they'd thrown away the condoms, Bertholdt knew exactly what Reiner enjoyed. He liked enveloping him in his arms while they were still catching their breath, twine their legs together, and be mollified by the sound of racing heartbeats. It was almost adorable how quickly he switched from ravenous and lust-drunk to sappy and sweet.

Almost.

Therefore, to circumvent any pleasure Reiner would derive from holding or being held, he'd blurted out the only excuse he could think of to get out of bed. Yes, he was sweaty and uncomfortable, but at least he was leaving the bed empty. In the war that was marriage, such victories were to be savored. They were the equivalent of pushing the battle line forward; a concrete way of knowing that you were doing damage, that the other side had a reason to panic. He had to take whatever win he could, especially when he was at a perpetual disadvantage.

That rallying of his faculties soothed the sting of his earlier defeat. Bertholdt's surrender to Reiner's touch was still deserving of contempt and chastising, but depriving his husband of heartfelt affection made him smug. Like he finally had control.

"Babe?" Reiner's voice was soft and entreating for answers, but the nickname frayed the ends of Bertholdt's nerves even more. "Are you feeling okay?"

"No," he blurted out immediately. That was as far as he dared his tongue to continue, but the sound of the bed creaking and footsteps approaching made him regret allowing it even that sliver of honesty.

He tried not to tense up as Reiner wrapped his hands around his torso, pressing his chest against Bertholdt's back. "What's wrong? You normally don't smoke at home." Reiner lightly kissed his shoulder and tried to slowly pull Bertholdt back. "Are you stressed?"

Bertholdt spoke right before Reiner finished. "I just need some fresh air." 

Silence made the darkness in the room expand. Moonlight fell through the curtains in slanted beams and painted everything with a glowy pallor. The clock was unnaturally loud, or maybe it was the two of them who were unnaturally quiet.