You want to lie. You want to tell Ice that you slept absolutely fine. You even open your mouth to put voice to the lie. But then, because lying to your partner has always felt wrong, your eyes track away from Ice’s face. You can’t hold eye contact as you prepare to voice the lie, though.

“Mav.”

It’s one word and only your name, but there’s a weight of disappointment in his voice. It makes your stomach sink and you look back into his eyes.

“I need you to be honest with me, Mav.” Ice’s voice is calm. Gentle, even. It’s the tone of voice he uses when you act like a skittish wild animal, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. And he matches the tone with a light, gentle touch; stroking his fingernails lightly down your chest. And it doesn’t hurt, because Ice never hurts you the way you believe you deserve.

“Maybe I don’t want to tell you, Ice,” you mutter. “You ever think of that? Maybe all I want is for you to fuck my brains out, so I don’t feel anything but you.”

His hand moves a little lower and he gives your thigh a squeeze. A warning, maybe. “I won’t hurt you the way you want me to, Mav.”

“Why not?” Your voice breaks and, to your horror, you feel the tears blur your eyes. They don’t fall. Not yet, at least. You need a bit more of a push before you can let go the way you want to. The way you need to.

It makes your stomach clench and your hands sweat. It terrifies you. You don’t want Ice to push you to the brink, even though you know you need him to. You want to push him away.