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ME: Please don't hurt him.

UNKNOWN: Then you better do as I say.

ME: I'll leave him. I promise.

UNKNOWN: Tonight?

ME: Tonight.

UNKNOWN: I'll come pick you up tomorrow, Ela.

I tried.

I gave myself a year, but nothing changed—no, something did.

I fell in love.

Amidst all the chaos, I fell in love with Sergei. I fell in love with his calm, with his kindness, with the way he never asks for more than I can give.

His love grounds me, but mine would hurt him.

He would hurt him.

My yesterday is about to catch up with my tomorrow, and I don’t want to be here when they collide.

My legs give out as I try to sober up and fall between his wide legs, my hands resting on his knees as I look up.

None of us breaking the silence as my hands trails up resting on his waist.

“What are you doing?” He questions in his thick accented voice, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he speaks.

“I need you.” I quip, trying to smile but it falters at the edges.

My gaze taking every inch of his body in, his eyes, his nose, his full lips, slightly glossy as he draws his tongue over them, his neck, the expanse of his exposed chest.

Ever since he told me about his scars, and I told him they were beautiful—proof of his strength, of everything he survived—he rarely bothers to cover them when he’s with me.

If tonight is the last time I see him, I want him etched into my blood and bones, carved so deeply into my memory that even death won’t be enough to erase him.

So that in the next life, I will recognise him without doubt, without question, as if I had never lost him at all.

My fingers wrap around his thickening cock as he visibly grows harder and pull him out of his boxers.

“Elara…ungh.” His growl turns into a loud hiss as I lick a drop of precum from his slit.

His reaction pleases me so I repeat it a few times before sliding a few inches in my mouth. He’s so thick, my fingers barely touching around his girth, as my hands move in tune with my head, bobbing up and down on his dick.

“Fuck, baby. You’re doing so good.” His hand comes around to grab my hair and he fists them firmly. “Ooh, there, Aaaaah, fuck! Malyshka.”

I can only moan as my cheeks hollow out and he presses my face closer and closer, my nose touching his pelvis until all ten inches of him is cozied up, his tip hitting the back of my throat.

He grunts. “I’m going to fuck your mouth, baby.”

He doesn’t wait for my response and moves my head back before shunting his hips so hard, the impact makes my eyes water.

“Oh, fuck.” His growl is an aphrodisiac, and I feel myself growing wetter and wetter every second he thrusts into my mouth, moaning and hissing, telling me I’m his good girl.

Except, I’m not. I’m not…good.