Brahms Heelshire - Lamb to the slaughter

Part Eleven - Curiosity symptoms

Brahms doesn't answer me. A few seconds go by before I understand what's causing his discomfort. The mask. He can't eat with it on. "Oh Brahms... I'm sorry, I didn't realise." He lowers his head slightly.

"Do you want to eat alone, Brahmsy?"

He nods his head slightly, just enough for his short, curly hair to shift slightly around his face. "Yes, Mummy, please." I pick up my plate and make my back into the living room, sitting in the same place we've been in all day.

I take my time while eating, wanting to take some time to myself and to give Brahms the chance to eat his own food. But before long, I finish off my own plate and don't have any reason to procrastinate. I make my way back, the kitchen's door inching closer.

I stop when it stands before me, blocking my view of the room before me. It could be an empty, uninhabited space by now. Brahms could have shifted himself to somewhere else by now. I place my palm on the door, almost as if hoping to feel his presence through the block of wood.

It scrunches up into a ball and knocks twice. The slight shifting of a chair, the small sounds of pattering feet, the turning of the doorknob and Brahms comes into view. He shuffles himself back into his chair and sits within it. Picking up his plate from the table, I make my way over to the sink. They clatter together when they are placed together in the basin to be cleaned later.

My hands find themselves upon the edge of the counter top, my eyes staring out of the window. Nothing is said between us. No noises distract my blank stare. No sudden shapes take up my attention, neither this or the other side of the glass. But yet, I feel hands slithering their ways onto my shoulders, stirring me around to face the arms and body they are attached to.

His hands leave me and I sigh, their warmth slipping away from me. He glances over his shoulder at the chair behind him, pulls it towards him and sits himself within it.

I look down at Brahms within his chosen seat, his eyes searching for mine. His arms raise, welcoming me into his embrace. I sit within his lap, his masked face burying itself into my shoulder. One arm snakes itself around my hips, his other hand entwining it's fingers with my own. I place a kiss upon the crown of his head.

We stay like this for a few minutes before he looks back up at me. "Can we continue reading?" I nod my head and get up out of his lap. He leaves the kitchen, most likely heading to go get his blanket and pillow again. Making my way back to the living room for the third time today, I sit back in the same spot I was earlier and wait for him to come back.

A few minutes later, a pillow lands at my side and Brahms comes into view again. He sits in the empty space next to me, throwing the blanket over our laps and laying slightly into me. Picking up the book that I had put down, I feel at home at his side.

We spend the rest of the day reading, the sun's beams shifting around the room, throwing everything in and out of light. Before we know it, it's gone dark outside and Brahms' head keeps drooping slightly, even though we've not had tea yet.

Finishing off the last page of a book, I place it to the side and shake Brahms awake for the twelfth time. "C'mon Brahms, time for bed." He groans slightly and sluggishly gets up, holding the blanket close to him.

Squeezing the pillow close to me, Brahms and I make our way upstairs and towards his bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed and holds the blanket to his chest.

"Feeling too tired to touch me tonight, baby?" I coo, running my fingers through his hair. He nods slightly and looks up at me.

"Can I do it tomorrow?" I smile down at him, agreeing. I kiss him once on the mask and twice on his real lips before leaving him for my own room. That's something for him to look forward to do.

I slouch back to my own room, personally wanting some sleep myself. Arriving into the familiarity of my room, I get ready for bed and climb my way in, wanting nothing more then sleep to take me over.

I awake within the early hours of the morning. The sun's only just beginning to come up over the horizon. As the grogginess passes, I hear something. A conga line of quiet huffs, groans and pants from a few rooms down.

Pulling myself away from the warmth of the bed, I shuffle my way towards the door, wondering what on earth Brahms could be doing this early. Turning the handle and tip toeing down the hallway until I come across his blue door, I crouch and peak through the keyhole.

Brahms is still in bed and from where I am, I'm not sure if he's awake. What I know for a fact, though, is that he has an irritated tent between his legs. I quietly let myself in, closing the door behind me. Being closer to him now, I can see that he's still sleeping. My hand finds its way onto where the tent is and begins to gently massage it.

Thirty seconds of just doing this and I want to see just how much teasing I can get away with before it eventually wakes him. After undressing myself fully, I edge his lower clothing down to his thighs, letting him spring free. I climb on top of him over the bed and position myself.

This chapter was shit, I know, I know