Page 94 of Sticks & Serpents

As the pants slid down his legs and pooled at his feet, I could see him more clearly—each line of muscle was accentuated by the soft light filtering through the window. My breath caught as I took in the entirety of him: strong thighs with those scars that hinted at power; a flat stomach that flexed with anticipation; arms that looked capable of both protecting and destroying.

“Come on,” I said softly, leading him into the bathroom. I turned on the water as steam began to rise. The sound filled the air, mingling with our unspoken tension. The warm mist enveloped us like an embrace, but neither of us moved forward.

Damien stood there—bare and exposed—the steam curling around his body like fingers caressing marble. For once, he didn’t shield himself from my gaze or turn away in shame or anger. He simply held my eyes with a heady look that made my heart race even faster.

I wanted to take this moment for all it was worth—to capture it in my mind forever—the way he let me see him like this, stripped down to nothing but skin and soul.

I took a deep breath, my heart racing as I slowly peeled off my dress, piece by piece. The air felt cool against my skin, contrasting sharply with the warmth of Damien’s gaze as it followed my every movement. I didn’t look away from him; I wanted him to see me—every inch of me, stripped bare of all pretense and fear.

When I stood naked before him, vulnerability wrapped around me like a shroud, something shifted in the air between us. His eyes darkened, filled with a mixture of hunger and something softer that I couldn’t quite name. The tension crackled like electricity, urging me forward.

With hesitant steps, I approached him until I was close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. My fingers trembled slightly as they reached out toward his thighs. When they brushed against the scars that marred his skin, his breath stuttered and muscles tensed beneath my touch.

But he didn’t pull away.

He let me see. He let me touch.

And in that moment, something deep inside me unraveled. My heart swelled—sadness for the pain he had endured and a fierce desire to show him that he was more than his scars. Each mark told a story—a testament to battles fought and survived.

I traced the edges of one scar with gentle fingertips, marveling at how such roughness could coexist with such raw beauty.

Damien’s eyes locked onto mine, fierce yet open The connection between us intensified as if we were sharing an unspoken truth—the weight of our pasts pressing down on both of us. This wasn’t just about physical intimacy; it was about acceptance and understanding.

His breath quickened under my touch, and I felt something shift in him—a flicker of hope buried beneath layers of anger and pain. My fingers continued their exploration, each caress becoming more deliberate as I sought to bridge the distance that had long separated us.

We sank into the bath together, the warmth of the water enveloping us like a cocoon. I pressed his back against my chest, feeling the tension in his muscles slowly begin to unwind. My arms wrapped around his middle, holding him close, grounding him in a way I desperately hoped would soothe him.

“It started young.” His voice came out quiet, almost lost in the gentle sounds of splashing water.

I nodded against his shoulder, letting my forehead rest there. It felt right to be close to him like this, even when everything else felt wrong. “And it never stopped,” he added, and my heart twisted at the weight of those words.

My eyes burned with unshed tears as I held him tighter. I wanted to say so many things—wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair, that no one should have to endure what he had. But instead, I pressed my forehead against his shoulder and remained silent. I didn’t say I was sorry or that it was okay because it wasn’t. It never would be.

Instead, I whispered softly, my voice steady despite the tremor in my chest. “You didn’t deserve it.”

Damien exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the memories clawing at him from within. “I feel like my body betrayed me.” His admission cut deep; I could feel his vulnerability seep through the cracks he had built over the years.

“And when I was with you…” he trailed off for a moment, swallowing hard as if the words were too heavy to bear. “I could forget.”

A lump formed in my throat at his confession; it hit harder than any blow he’d taken on the ice.

“Until she found out,” he continued quietly.“Until… until she made me pretend.”His voice broke slightly on that last word, and I tightened my grip around him instinctively. “I didn't want you tainted by her,” he confessed, vulnerability pouring out of him like a floodgate released. “I had to push you away because I couldn't fucking let you go.”

Each word pierced through me—every syllable wrapped in pain and regret—and yet somehow offered solace in knowing just how deeply he felt about our connection despite everything that had happened between us.

I hugged him tighter, feeling the warmth of his body seep into me, chasing away the chill of the world outside.

“Your body kept you alive,” I whispered, not entirely sure what else to say. I just wanted him to know that he was more than what had been done to him, that he had survived it all.

He didn’t respond, but his fingers tightened over mine, anchoring me in this moment we had carved out for ourselves. The steam curled around us like a protective veil, wrapping us in an intimacy I hadn’t thought possible just days ago.

We sat in silence for a long time; the water soothing our skin while everything else faded away. It felt as if time had stopped; the chaos of our lives outside this bathroom couldn’t reach us here.

Then Damien spoke again, his voice rough and raw. “People only wanted me for four things.”

I didn’t move. I simply listened.

“Money. My family legacy. Hockey. Fucking.” He laid each word out like a confession, heavy and honest.

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