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He watched her laying there, safe in her deep slumber, without the hint of discomfort which so often plagued his own sleeping hours. He stared longingly at his lover, at his object of affection, and thought of the joy which pervaded his soul whenever he saw her. He silently quit the room, and made his way slowly downstairs for a midnight snack, reflecting on the past year, his heart swelling at how much he loved her.

He meandered around the kitchen aimlessly, unsure if he was actually hungry. He opened the refrigerator door, and enjoyed the cool sensation that bristled the hairs on the back of his neck. Finally, he decided on a perfectly red, unbruised apple and, after closing the door, grabbed a sharp knife from the counter and sliced easily into its soft flesh. He savoured the flavour of each slice, killing time before he made his way back upstairs. His stomach satiated, he climbed the shadowed stairway, avoiding every creaky board until he reached the bedroom door. As he twisted the doorknob, an annoying floorboard squealed loudly under him, and he heard her soft, slow breathing replaced by a disturbed and wakeful sigh. He pushed against the door cautiously, so he wouldn’t frighten her with his abrupt return and smiled at her curled form while she looked up at him lazily, still not fully awake.

He took long strides to the bed and enveloping her fully into his arms, which had been aching to hold her porcelain figure all night, he began to plant tender kisses on the bare skin of her neck. She slowly realized his game and playfully struggled away from his embrace as he pretended to let her go, laughing giddily when he caught her wrist and pulled her eagerly toward him.
His tame desire for her soon erupted into a desperate sort of need and he pushed her silky nightdress above her voluptuous breasts, each of which he kissed thoroughly, while she feigned dislike. They struggled together with his belt and she pretended to be averse to his advances by clutching the buckle tightly between her pale, white fingers. He gently pried her hands away from the clasp and she finally relinquished her grip on the buckle while he quickly maneuvered the belt out of the way of his erection.

She lay there quietly now, waiting for him to make his next move, her eyes wide with naivety, begging for instruction. Taking his cue, he guided her hand down into his boxers and taught her to rub him in just the way he preferred. Her prim fingers quickly escalated his excitement, gripping him tightly with nails digging deep, though not tenderly. He grimaced at the kind of pain that brought him pleasure, and dismissed her tight hold as an elated arousal for what was to come. He caressed her white thighs, which had possibly never seen the sun, and she moaned in an agony that was delicious to him. He removed her hands from his head and spread her knees easily with his, keeping a tight grip on her slender, easily bruised, wrists.

He allowed his only remaining clothes to fall around his ankles, and then
to the floor as she lay there, waiting patiently for him to enter her, her
anticipation clearly showing through the desperate way that she chewed her lip. He closed his eyes tightly and entered her once, twice and again and he heard her lips part into a scream, her eyes flashing wide open in what must have been ecstasy. He felt the warm liquid trickling over his skin while he was still inside her and a moan escaped his lips into her ear. Exhausted from her extreme physical experience, she lay there limp, waiting for him to finish and staring blindly at the ceiling. He thrust into her one last time and finished erotically, then fell down on top of her still form fully satisfied.

The last of his heavy breaths died away into the absolute silence of the room and he felt the hand that lay in between their bodies fall asleep from sheer pressure. It took him a minute before he regained enough energy to open his eyes, and lift himself from her. His breath quieted as he stared down at her immoveable face that was caught in a mask of terror. Suddenly, he realized that he could no longer feel her abdomen rise and fall with lively breaths, as his still was; he could only hear the silence ringing loudly in his ears.

He looked at her again, stared into the dead face of his object of passion, still trapped in that deep mask of horror. He kissed her hopefully, and found there was no responding kiss. An unexplainable dread found its way into the thick cavity of his heart and pervaded the entirety of his mind. His attention moved to the hand that was still asleep between their entwined bodies, and he lifted himself off of her slowly, noticing as he did that there was a thick, red stain that dressed his lower half. The blood which splattered her still, bare chest was in stark contrast to her paleness, which was quickly turning grey. He moved his eyes down his right arm, which had begun to tingle, to his fingers as they tightened their grip on the handle of the kitchen knife that hadn’t left his hand since eating the apple.

The other end was buried deep into the torso of the girl who had once embodied the beauty of all the graces. She continued, unmoving in her single bed, to stare at the stranger above her as he came to a severely difficult realization.