Chapter 2
Tell me-
Do you still love me? After all that’s happened- after what I let happen...
“Don’t stop-”
Love or not, it feels so good. The silk sheets against her bare back, his sturdy arms pinning hers down, the unbearably full feeling of him inside her.
Wonderful.
Can you still love me? Even though I let Yahiko die?
She doesn’t get an answer, but at the very least he doesn’t seem to hate her body. In fact, Nagato can’t seem to get enough of it.
He treats her so gently, like a treasure. Like a goddess. Runs his hands along her hips, over her chest, never once taking his eyes off her.
She’s wholly unworthy. Disgusting. Defiled and undeserving. But he makes love to her as if she were a goddess.
(A goddess, maybe. And he’s a jealous god, unwilling to let anyone else look at her.)
Their fingers tangle together. She’s getting close, and she can tell he is too.
Are you jealous of him, Nagato? Of what we had before? I know you say you never minded, but I worry-
He gathers her up in his arms, holding her tight as his climax hits. Hers follows on its heels, making her arch her back and moan through clenched teeth.
“Konan-” he breathes, with more reverence than she could ever deserve.
(he says it with Yahiko’s voice. With Yahiko’s mouth, which never should belong to him.)
She can’t call his name. It feels like betrayal. It feels like admitting defeat, when she’s already so pitifully weak as to succumb to this decadence in the first place.
(she feels dirty- so dirty- for wishing it were Yahiko holding her.)
Every time, she tries not to cry. Every time, she fails.
Nagato doesn’t. He never cries, anymore. She wonders if she stole that power from him, as well.
Tell me-
His face is unreadable, his eyes as blank as a corpse’s. Even as he cradles her close.
Can you ever forgive me for what I’ve done?