Chapter Text
Ava wakes about an hour after Beatrice’s shower, while Beatrice is in the middle of preparing their lunch as silently as possible. Beatrice studies her out of the corner of her eye, remaining silent to let the other woman return to consciousness and acclimate to her surroundings (and Beatrice’s returned presence in them) on her own.
It’s slow and groggy at first. Ava’s eyes flutter and one of her hands comes up to scrub at her face before she realizes there’s a blanket on her. She snaps up. The blanket falls down around her hips as her eyes dart around, only for her to slump back into the couch pillows when she immediately finds the notebook still flat against her chest where it was when she fell asleep.
She pulls in a long, slow breath as she slips the book closed and finally turns to study Beatrice.
Beatrice is turned far enough away she knows Ava only sees her back and can’t tell Beatrice can see her from that angle, so she continues her observation while still meticulously chopping their vegetables.
Ava studies her a few long seconds, face cycling through an odd mix of emotions that Beatrice tracks but doesn’t understand. Worry. Longing. Sadness. Fear. They all dance around on her features before she tips her chin down toward the notebook still in her lap. One hand slides along the open page, as if tracing her recorded thoughts from earlier that day, before she snaps it closed and tucks it on the coffee table with a pat. Her fingers tremble just the slightest amount as she pulls away.
Beatrice keeps chopping, even while the pit in her stomach deepens with each action.
“Hey, when’d you get back?” Ava calls.
Beatrice straightens and flashes a smile over her shoulder without disrupting her chopping fully. “Maybe an hour ago. I hope I didn’t disturb your nap, did you rest well?”
Ava rises from the couch and groans through a stretch. The bottom of her shirt lifts a bit with the motion, exposing another flash of skin, and Beatrice finally drops her eyes away from the other woman.
Soft footsteps ring through the room before the scrape and groan of a chair ends them.
“It was good, I just didn’t even mean to dose off. I was just writing some stuff in the notebook and then next thing I know you’re back.”
Beatrice nods down toward their vegetables. She finally finishes her chopping and lifts the cutting board over to the pot on the stove so she can scrape the ingredients in. “I’m glad to hear the notebook was proving useful.”
“Yeah, it was. About that though?” Ava says, voice suddenly hesitant.
Beatrice finally places the cutting board down and turns to face the other woman fully, careful to keep the limp and wince buried as she moves her sore body. “Yes?” she prompts.
Ava clears her throat and slumps down a little in her chair. Her hands pick up a relentless beat against the tabletop. “I just wanted to- Did you really mean what you said? About the notebook?”
Beatrice’s brow furrows as she replays their conversation in her mind quickly before choosing her response carefully. “Yes. I will never look in that notebook again without your permission, but am always eager and interested to hear any symptoms or thoughts you’d like to share. If I can be of any help in your recovery, I want to be.”
Ava’s eyes stay locked on her for several of Beatrice’s now-rapid heartbeats. They flit around her face and drop down her posture before Ava finally cracks a shy smile and nods. “Okay, thanks for confirming.”
Beatrice nods back and hesitates before turning back to their food. After another few beats of silence she decides to push. “Was there anything from today you wanted to share?”
Ava’s eyes fall to her own fidgeting fingers and she doesn’t look back up. Her mouth twitches and pinches a few times before a sad resolve slides over her features. “I’m still really achy today. I realized I’m really just achy every single day and I think I’ve just learned to live with it, but it does really bother me in the back of my mind. Always.”
Beatrice locks her knees and clenches her hand at her side, fighting back the urge to approach Ava and stroke her face until she can smile again.
At the same time, her mind starts to spin.
And spin.
As the information she’d researched yesterday mixes in with her own experiences from the past, an idea for how to help begins to form.
The reaction inside of her is instantaneous.
First, the rush. Jittery excitement floods her mind at the prospect of a new solution, a new way to help. Heat explodes in her chest. The idea of being able to help Ava, to provide her comfort and relief, melts into her limbs like liquid. There is a small part of her that knows the heat is also due to the prospect of being that close to Ava and helping her in this way, and that pools deep in her stomach even as she studiously ignores it.
At the same time, the crash. Images flash through her mind, first practically. Innocuous images of the steps needed, the science behind it, the goal. Then, they shift. Images of her explaining to Ava and Ava’s reaction. Of trying and Ava freaking out in the middle. Of Ava, glaring at her with a mask of betrayal, suspicion, and pain for the rest of their time together. A pain Beatrice was the cause of and could never help ease.
The heat shifts to fire, igniting every inch it had enveloped with a blinding pain.
She locks it down, burying the pain and shame deep into her chest and filing it away, careful not to let any of it show on her face, now more mindful than ever of how much Ava reads from her.
She doesn’t make a sound.
Slowly, carefully, she forces herself to nod with what she hopes is a thoughtful and sympathetic look on her face.
Ava’s eyes flick up briefly to look at her before returning to her own hands.
Beatrice packs it down. She’ll evaluate it later. Alone.
The idea still floats through her mind, all of the benefits and research to support zinging around like advertisements on a webpage.
She doesn’t trust them, worried for the intentions behind the mind putting them there for her to see. Demanding for her to take the action they want.
She packs it down.
She’ll evaluate it later.
Alone.
For now, she forces herself to speak. “Thank you for sharing with me. That sounds awful. I will consider what options we have to help. For now, I think more hot showers and anti-inflammatory foods are a good first step.”
Ava nods a few more times, gaze foggy and distracted. She doesn’t respond and she doesn’t look back at Beatrice while whatever thoughts are keeping her company in her own mind.
Beatrice leaves her to it. Stiffly, she turns back to the food with her own mind still snared by her own demons.
Despite her best efforts, she can’t keep the idea locked away while she finishes their meal.
Mental images follow her every step.
Ava’s tense and pained muscles present themselves to her as she stirs, highlighting their woes and begging for relief. She sees tendons, pain points, and solutions.
The livewire of tension and heat that radiates from Ava during a flare jumps out at her when she increases the temperature of the burner.
The soft play of Ava’s skin against her fingertips haunts her as she tries to pull their bowls from the shelf, her grip almost faltering.
Worst of all, Ava’s possible reactions echo through her mind. Anger. Relief. Gratefulness. Disgust. Mistrust.
Why would Ava ever trust her to help her so intimately?
How could she ever trust her again after?
What would she see in Beatrice’s face? Would she be too eager?
What even made Beatrice think of this? Was it really her research and experience, or her own desires bubbling up under false pretenses?
Beatrice fights and fights against it, doing everything possible to grab each image and thought and pack them down into that spot in her chest until she’s nearly bursting at the seams with a chilling ache sitting just behind her heart.
She holds her breath when she finally turns back to Ava with their meals in hand and joins her at the table.
Ava accepts the food with the flash of a smile and a thank you, but otherwise doesn’t initiate more conversation, whatever is on her mind still clearly weighing on her to the point of distraction.
Normally, Beatrice would push. The bleary fog of Ava’s eyes sits uncomfortably against her normally bubbly countenance. Today though, she lets the silence blanket them with weary relief as her own ribcage begins to creak with the weight and pressure.
Ava struggles to pull herself out of her thoughts the rest of the day. They float in and out, never staying too long or causing too much trouble individually, but overall refusing to leave her alone.
Beatrice watches her.
She catches her multiple times, peering at her from the corner of her eyes or across the room.
Every time, she’s relieved when the other woman chooses not to push. She clearly wants to. There’s some kind of war going on in Beatrice’s eyes, Ava can tell, but she leaves Ava to her own and Ava deeply appreciates that.
For a while, she tucks herself back into the couch and returns to the notebook.
She holds her breath for the first few minutes, expecting Beatrice to ask or pry, despite her promises, but she never does.
The unfamiliar feeling of respected privacy wobbles over Ava’s heart.
Small, seemingly inconsequential memories from the orphanage float through her mind for a while after that.
Nuns disposing of her books and other personal items while cleaning, without asking her.
Old roommates reporting her dreams or comments.
Other children peeping in on her from the door while she’s dressed or cleaned.
The nuns ignoring the giggling and teasing that echoed through the halls.
All of it individually had contributed to her general unhappiness there, but she’d never really put them all together into one train of thought before.
She hated the orphanage and most of the people there, and that was it.
Now though, she starts thinking about it for what it was. She always knew she wasn’t wanted. She always knew she wasn’t respected or cared for.
Only now, after receiving a taste of it from someone who had even more power over her and didn’t need to offer her this. Only now is it really starting to settle in how starved she was for any form of kindness.
The thoughts flow freely out of her, landing in the notebook in incomplete sentences that barely make sense.
And it’s all because of Beatrice. Beatrice who demonstrates over and over again that she cares for Ava and wants to help her.
Who says over and over again that she’s not a burden.
Who makes her food and gives her space and holds her through the night because she says she wants to.
Why?
The thoughts tumble and trip around her, leaving Ava feeling lost at sea among the waves.
At the same time, something builds.
Deep behind her bones, tucked up behind her organs and in the cracks of her soul, something grows.
It’s the same thing she’s been feeling for weeks, every time she rolls over in bed to take shelter in the heat of Beatrice’s body.
Every time her heart flutters at one of Beatrice’s gentle caresses.
Every time the nun makes a solemn vow that cuts deep into Ava’s insecurities, only to sooth instead of exacerbate.
Ava doesn’t dare name it now, but she knows.
She knows.
And she writes, spilling everything onto the pages before her.
At first, she tilts the notebook down any time a load of laundry or other chore brings Beatrice close to her orbit. After a while, when the other woman made no move to ask about it or look, she relaxes into her task with less and less fear of being forced to share.
As the thoughts seep out of her, a weight settles deep into her muscles. Just like before, while Beatrice was gone, releasing her emotions in this small way lulls her down into a sleepy, relaxed calm like she’s never experienced before.
Before she knows it, she’s blinking awake on the couch again to the sight of Beatrice leaning over her. There’s another blanket covering both her and the notebook, and the room is dark and warm.
Beatrice’s face is apologetic but firm.
“I’m sorry to wake you but it’s night and I think it would be best for your healing if you continue your rest in the bed. Can I help you move?”
Her voice is a soft murmur that nearly lulls Ava back to sleep on its own. She gives her a slow blink in response before the words finally register and she nods to follow.
Beatrice smiles at her before pulling away the blanket and offering Ava a hand up.
Ava fumbles, flipping the notebook closed and hastily setting it on the coffee table again before reaching for the other woman. Beatrice’s fingers are warm but the skin is rough, the day of training and cleaning having clearly taken a toll. There are scrapes, bruises, and abrasions all over her hand, mapping out a story that the gloss on Ava’s brain keeps her from reading properly. Even still, Ava can’t stop herself from running a gentle thumb over a particularly large bruise on the side of Beatrice’s palm as she helps her stand and begins leading her to the other room.
When Ava’s sleepy weight shifts and she leans a little too far into Beatrice’s side, Beatrice sucks in a sharp breath that sends a spike into Ava’s brain, bringing her a little closer to true wakefulness.
As they take a few more steps, Beatrice’s breathing remains a little too labored and her steps supporting Ava’s weight are too stiff. Abnormally stiff.
Ava clumsily brings the strings together, doing her best to figure out what she’s seeing, but before she can the crisp gloom of their bedroom surrounds her and before she knows it Beatrice is tipping her back into the welcoming embrace of their sheets.
She watches from her pillow, a bleary smile on her face, as Beatrice does her usual sweep of their apartment, checking the locks and windows before returning to join Ava in the bed.
There’s something off about it. Something stiff and uncomfortable that Ava can’t quite grasp.
Even as she slips under the covers and pulls Ava into her side, something pulls at the edge of her mind.
The heat of Beatrice’s chest combined with the steady thud of her heartbeat under her ear sinks her back into sleep before she can figure it out.
Beatrice is jittery again.
Ava has been watching her.
All morning, through their wakeup and breakfast routine, Ava has been watching her. Sometimes she smiles. Sometimes she frowns. More often than Beatrice would have expected, she reaches for her notebook to scribble something down.
Beatrice itches to ask. Her fingers burn with the desire to flip through the pages and hear Ava’s unfiltered thoughts.
To know.
To know.
But she holds herself back. She keeps everything packed tight, despite the creaking of her bones, and maintains the peace and normalcy.
She can’t let herself imagine what would happen if Ava were to see her weakness.
Either of her weaknesses.
Sins.
And she knows that remaining silent will only help keep them sheltered. As long as Ava isn’t distressed, she can manage.
She can keep going.
She can help.
The idea also still hasn’t left her mind.
It sits, lurking, in the corner of each thought, urging her to see the benefits and ignore the risks.
It’s persistent and persuasive, stalking each of her actions until it’s all she can do but hold back the energy building under her skin.
By the time Ava finally asks about their plans for the day, Beatrice knows she’s already a hair away from snapping.
And caving.
She clears her throat. “That depends, how are you feeling today?”
Ava shifts from her spot next to her on the couch and Beatrice turns to face her more fully.
Her palms are rubbing circles on the tops of her knees, as if bracing and double checking she can still feel it at the same time. “I’m feeling a bit better. I think the sleep’s been helping. I’m still achy and have the sharper pains sometimes, but I haven’t had one of the larger attacks in a few days. Things feel looser.”
Beatrice nods, tracing her eyes around Ava’s posture as if to read the truth from her muscles.
The idea burns in the back of her mind.
“That’s great to hear. In that case, I think we need to take it slow. How about we go for a light run today, followed by some stretching. We can see how you feel after that and go from there.”
Ava’s eyes are wide as she blinks back at her. “That’s enough?”
Beatrice nods rapidly. “Yes, absolutely. Your wellbeing is more important right now. We won’t ever be able to progress your training until we address that first.”
Ava’s jaw works.
Her shoulders tense.
The idea burns in Beatrice’s mind.
Eventually, she agrees.
The run goes fine. Beatrice leads them on the shortest path she dares, just long enough for Ava to work up a light sweat along her hairline, before stopping them in a small clearing to do their stretching. Ava is still a little stiff, especially around her hips and neck, but she moves through the positions smooth enough for a little bit of the pressure to slip out of Beatrice’s spine.
The idea still burns.
When Ava spends a few seconds digging her knuckles into her lower back, just above her left hip joint, Beatrice has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the words down.
They jog home even more slowly.
When they’re done, Ava disappears for a long shower and Beatrice plops herself down at the table with clenched fists pressed into her eyes.
Afterwards, once Ava re-emerges from a cloud of steam with pink-tinged skin, she disappears into the bathroom for her shower despite Ava’s repeated warnings that she used all of the hot water.
Beatrice assures her it will be fine.
She needs it.
The idea burns.
And, the cold helps sooth her own scrapes, which are irritated and red from their exercise and her continued efforts to keep them buried under her clothing. Nothing looks infected though, so she ignores it in favor of cleaning herself as efficiently and silently as possible under the icy flow.
They’re back on the couch with Ava debriefing Beatrice on how she’s feeling after the run when the words finally slip from her tongue without her control.
“Massage is one of the most recommended ways to help reduce chronic pain and tension in muscles.”
Every muscle in Beatrice’s body locks in on itself as the images she fought so hard to keep locked away burst through her ribs and flood her mind in a dizzying rush. She holds her breath and bites the inside of her cheek until the pain flashes hotter than the panic screaming through her.
It’s all she can do to keep her face blank.
Ava’s mouth snaps shut at the words and Beatrice’s chest relaxes by millimeters when it’s clearly more from shock at the abrupt suggestion rather than anything else.
“Massage?”
Beatrice nods, balling her hands at her sides and sitting up a little straighter. The remnants of her ribs knock against each other with each breath, stabbing her regret deep into her marrow. Still, the words are out. There’s nothing she can do about that now, so she resolves to get through it as unscathed as possible. At least she will be able to do Ava some good.
She will.
This will be worth it.
Ava never needs to know anything more.
“Yes, massage is widely reviewed as a very effective treatment plan. If you’re comfortable with it, I could try massaging some of the key areas you identified the other day, neck, hips, and back mainly, to see if light training combined with massage can bring you some lasting relief in the day to day. I know you mentioned that the daily aching is something that really sits with you. This might help.”
Ava stares at her.
“You- you wouldn’t mind doing that for me?” Her voice is small in a way Beatrice has learned to hate. “That’s a lot to ask. Definitely going above and beyond.”
“Of course. I would do anything that might help you.”
Ava blinks, eyes refusing to leave Beatrice’s face for a long time. Eventually, she drops her chin in a shaky nod. “I’d be willing to give it a try. When you were rubbing on those spots the other day, it really seemed to help.”
Beatrice nods, swallowing down the blood from her torn cheek to keep it from showing on her teeth. “Good. In that case give me a minute to get some things set up and we can give it a try.”
Ava agrees and Beatrice floats out of the room on a wave of her panic.
Her muscles shake. Her ribs creak. Her breathing fights to match the beat of her heart. It’s just about all she can do to keep herself moving forward on steady steps, relying on her training to keep it all off of her face. To keep her actions steady.
In a way, it’s like moving with the same kind of autopilot she used to use when preparing for a mission. Succumbing to pre-mission jitters is only ever a way to get someone hurt, so she doesn’t let it overwhelm her. She smooths out the sheets on the bed, making sure the comforter is flat and ready. She pulls their pillows down, resting them next to each other to mimic a cradle for Ava’s face while she’s laying face down. Then, she grabs the bottle of lotion from their bathroom, sets it on the bed, and takes a long breath in before calling Ava to join her.
Ava’s eyes fall to the setup on the bed as soon as she enters the room, but she frowns with an eager curiosity rather than disgust, relaxing Beatrice’s muscles just a little bit more.
Beatrice keeps her eyes focused on her as she explains the setup, ready to step back or apologize at the slightest sign of discomfort or concern.
Ava doesn’t show any.
At the last second, encouraged by Ava’s receptiveness so far, the final words Beatrice had been holding onto slip out without her permission. “This is also most effective skin-to-skin. Would you be comfortable removing your shirt?”
There’s a pause.
Ava’s eyes finally leave the bed to meet Beatrice’s once more.
Beatrice keeps her own shame and sin off her face, careful to leave nothing but her concern and genuine care for Ava’s wellbeing in its place to meet the other woman.
Ava knows about that.
Ava is comfortable with that and actually wants to see it from her.
That’s all this will be.
That’s all.
She can’t quite tell what the expression on Ava’s face means, but she’s pretty sure it’s not anger or disgust. If anything, it’s disbelief, and Beatrice can do nothing but wait while Ava sorts through it on her own.
In the end, Ava nods.
Beatrice swallows and nods back. “I’ll just step out of the room while you get comfortable. Give me a shout when you’re ready?”
Ava nods mutely and Beatrice slips back into the living room before her face can give her away.
Once alone, the sheer stupidity of her actions claws at her from the inside, tearing at her bones and tendons in reckless rage while her thoughts cycle through all of the worst case scenarios over and over again.
This is such a bad idea. She knows that. She knows that for every possible benefit this has for Ava, it has ten more ways to go apocalyptically bad for Beatrice.
Ava can never see her weakness.
She can never know the extent of the corruption and sin infecting the woman responsible for her care.
Never.
Ava’s voice calling out a soft “Ready” shocks Beatrice back into her skin.
She pulls in a deep breath, once more relying on her training to center herself despite her own panic.
She walks back into the room.
The plane of bare skin that greets her knocks away what little composure she’d built up. It catches her squarely in the middle of her throat and rips, pulling all sense of control out along with it. She only barely manages to keep the sound of her dismantling from spilling out on the wreckage.
She’d left the overhead light off, choosing to only turn on a few of the lamps around the room. Ava’s skin practically glows in the soft light, shining out from the top of their dark comforter.
Beatrice can’t breathe.
She presses a hand flat and hard into the center of her torso just over her diaphragm and squeezes, digging her fingers in until the muscle remembers how to work.
Miraculously, Ava’s face is tucked securely between the pillows, so she doesn’t witness any of Beatrice’s struggle.
Ava hums quietly into the pillow, wiggling her feet back and forth on the bed. “I’ve never been much of a stomach sleeper, even before the accident, but this might convince me. I hated how hard it was to breathe and the pain in my neck from turning it. I never thought to put the pillows like this.”
Beatrice squeezes in another breath and responds with a noncommittal hum.
“Thanks again for giving this a try. I couldn’t believe how much it helped when you did it before,” Ava continues.
Beatrice sends out a silent prayer for grace, patience, and strength, and forces herself to move forward one step after another. “Of course, Ava. I only want to help. Let me know if anything hurts or feels bad, ok?”
Ava agrees and returns to humming, feet still rocking back and forth on the bed.
The skin on Beatrice’s knee and back ache as she climbs onto the bed to kneel at Ava’s right side. She ignores it in favor of settling into the cushion and reaching for the bottle of lotion. She lathers her hands quickly before stretching the fingers out in front of herself and staring down.
Ava’s back glows even more up close, interspersed with small lines of silver and red from the horrors she’s already been forced to endure. The raised lump of the halo sits just in the middle of her upper back, staring back at her like an unblinking eye.
Her fingers shake.
Beatrice swallows. “I’m going to start slow, let you get adjusted, before focusing more. Let me know how things feel as we go.”
Ava nods into the pillow.
The first touch sends a bolt of lightning up Beatrice’s arm and it’s all she can do to keep from jumping back. She keeps the pressure light, just barely ghosting her fingers and palm over Ava’s skin so that the younger woman can get a feel for her touch.
Despite the light soft touch, Ava’s skin shivers under her. Beatrice watches transfixed as the muscles shudder and twitch, following anywhere her hand moves over her back.
“Are you ok?” Beatrice asks, barely breathing.
Ava nods into the pillow again. “Feels- feels good.”
“Good. Good.”
Beatrice’s hand continues, putting in slightly more pressure as the muscles warm up. Little details present themselves to her fingertips for inspection.
The texture on the back of her shoulder blade, smooth and firm.
The soft play of muscle at the dip of her back, just above her hips.
The rough play of scarred skin over the hot metal ring below the surface.
Beatrice’s skin singes at every new discovery while her mind focuses in on nothing but this moment, slowing all else to a stop.
Her heart pounds.
She refuses to let the images resurface.
Her breathing rips in and out of her destroyed throat with silent gasps.
The pain of her own wounds slips deep into the back of her mind, only calling out when she shifts or slides against the mattress in a way that tears at the already irritated areas.
Ava remains mostly silent, only sometimes groaning softly or hitching her breath at a particular spot.
Beatrice swallows.
She increases the pressure again, feeling out the play of muscle and tendons beneath the surface.
One area jumps out for her immediate attention when she finds the muscle connecting her neck down to the base of her right shoulder blade is swollen and tense. Beatrice eases a thumb into it, testing out the reactivity and feeling for specific knots or triggers.
Ava groans again.
Beatrice shifts, sliding her thumb slowly, carefully along the inner edge of that muscle.
Kneading.
Pressing.
“Take a deep breath,” she whispers to Ava.
Ava complies, her back rising a few centimeters as her ribs expand. Beatrice waits for her to begin exhaling before pressing on the muscle again, harder, and following it all the way down to the connection at her shoulder blade.
Ava groans harder.
“Good?” Beatrice checks, hand freezing.
Ava nods rapidly into the pillow. “Yeah. Yep. Uh-huh.”
“Ok,” Beatrice says. “Breathe in again.”
Ava does and Beatrice presses in again, digging along the muscle until she finally feels a slight twitch, followed by a tangible decrease in the tension along the muscle.
Beatrice smiles and flattens out her hand, running her full palm back and forth along the spot a few times before spiraling out to soothe the surrounding muscles and find the next target.
It presents itself quickly just above Ava’s left hip. One of the muscles connecting Ava’s lower ribs to her pelvis is even tighter than her shoulder had been and Beatrice’s own hip twinges in sympathy as she runs her palm across it a few times, warming it up.
She shifts to her thumb and Ava sucks in a deep breath before Beatrice even has to ask.
On the exhale, Beatrice presses in and Ava’s breath stutters to a halt, the groan ripping itself out of her throat with more pain than Beatrice knows is good. She immediately flattens her hand back into a palm and rubs several more soothing circles over the spot.
“I’m sorry. Easy, slow breaths. Sorry.”
Ava shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. S’fine. Damn, that’s tender though. Fuck.”
Beatrice shifts, hissing softly herself when the skin of her knee pulls too taut. She’s sure it tears a bit and she bites her lip to avoid alerting Ava even more.
“No, it shouldn’t be that bad. Let me try a different approach.”
Beatrice keeps her palm flat and moves around the muscle, finding the connection points at the bottom of her ribcage and top of her hip. From there, she starts digging her thumb and knuckles into the muscles around each connection, waiting for those to lose a little bit of their tension first. When things start to feel a bit more flexible, she returns to the main muscle.
“Ok, we’re going to try again but slower. Deep breath.”
She suppresses the warm flutter that develops in her stomach when Ava does as asked without hesitation.
So much trust.
On the exhale, she presses down the muscle with her open palm, barely putting any more pressure than the soothing swipes.
Ava groans.
They go again. Beatrice slides her hand along the muscle, soaking in the heat that tingles up her palm from the smooth play of Ava’s skin against her.
She bites her lip, fighting to keep the tremble out of her hand.
Ava groans.
Beatrice shifts, leaning further around Ava from her position next to her to get a better angle.
More skin tears and Beatrice can’t suppress the louder hiss that slips from her lips.
That finally pushes Ava to lift her head from the cradle of her pillows to look back at Beatrice.
Her face is wrinkled and creased from where the bunched pillows had indented her skin, but Beatrice can still barely breathe at what she sees. Ava’s face is slack and relaxed like she’s never seen before, even despite the furrow of concern covering her brow as she looks back at Beatrice. There’s a glint to her eye, some kind of mix between relaxation and pleasure, that Beatrice already knows will be living in the back of her mind for the rest of days.
Beautiful.
Happy.
Cared for.
Ava’s eyes find Beatrice and she studies her position awkwardly folded over her.
Beatrice struggles to shift her face into something more controlled, but Ava doesn’t even seem to notice. After a beat, she blinks and nods.
“If it’s easier to just straddle my hips, you totally can. S’fine by me. That looks painful for you.”
She plops her face back down into the pillows, leaving Beatrice frozen and alone with the fiery shock pulsing through her veins.
Straddle her hips.
Just straddle her hips.
Even while her mind rushes to offer her every possible negative and inappropriate outcome of that choice, Beatrice can’t deny how much easier it would make approaching this muscle.
It would help her address it more properly.
It would help Ava.
And that, that’s apparently all her mind really needed to have her swinging one knee over Ava’s back to leave her straddling the other woman’s hips.
Everything from her back down her leg screams at her against the action, including her brain, but he ignores it to settle into position.
She doesn’t let herself sink down to rest on Ava, keeping all of her weight on her own knees, but it’s enough.
The mental image of being in this position alone is enough to rip Beatrice’s throat right back out of her.
She keeps the thoughts down.
She can’t keep the trembling out of her hands as they return to work. Slowly, carefully, rubbing back and forth over the muscle, warming it back up. When she’s ready she shifts to her thumb and Ava pulls in a deep breath.
Beatrice sinks in with the exhale, dragging all along the muscle until she reaches the end, where she shifts and presses back up. Her thumb drags all the way back up the muscle’s other side while Ava sucks in a shocked breath.
Beatrice bites her lip.
This position really is better.
Ava takes in another deep breath and they go again. And again. When the muscle finally releases, Beatrice has moved to using her elbow, pressing with most of her leverage along the troubling spot.
Ava sobs when the muscle finally twitches and releases, leaving her slumping into the mattress suddenly boneless.
She keeps groaning for a while after that, basking in the relief flooding through her.
Beatrice releases a shuddering breath in response, leaning back so that she can return to rubbing soothing palms all around Ava’s back.
The areas they focused on are red and angry looking, but Beatrice can tell the muscles beneath are feeling much better.
She lets Ava settle until her groans and whimpers stop. “We should probably leave it there and see how you feel for a day or two before trying more. Those were pretty big knots and I don’t want to overdo it.”
Ava’s head jerks sloppily into the pillows while she mumbles incoherently.
Beatrice takes it as agreement and shifts off of Ava, biting her cheek yet again when the skin she’s been ignoring screams in further protest. A sticky heat follows the pain and she knows without looking she’s done more damage that she’ll need to cover up.
As soon as Beatrice’s weight shifts off of her, Ava’s head snaps back up and her bleary eyes find Beatrice. “Wait, will you sit with me a few more minutes until I come back a bit? That was amazing, Bea, really. Wow.”
Beatrice swallows but nods and sits back down next to her without complaint. After a moment of hesitation, she also allows her hand to travel back to Ava’s skin, following the path of her spine up and down with soft fingers while Ava readjusts to her body.
Ava groans.
They sit like that for an unknown amount of time. It takes everything Beatrice has to keep her thoughts as quiet and blank as she can, choosing only to feel Ava’s skin beneath her fingertips and her heat at her side.
Eventually, Ava moves the hand closest to Beatrice blindly a few times before landing on Beatrice’s knee and squeezing.
Pain lances up Beatrice’s spine and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth to keep from voicing it.
Ava squeezes again before moving her hand away and pressing herself up on her elbows.
Beatrice turns her head immediately to avoid even the possibility of accidentally seeing more of Ava’s topless form, so she doesn’t see what Ava does next but she does feel when the shift in Ava’s mood and body language plunge the room into an icy tension.
Beatrice closes her eyes.
“Bea,” Ava whispers, shifting in a way Beatrice can’t see.
Beatrice hums, not trusting herself to speak. Carefully, she lifts her hand from Ava’s back and folds it in her own lap, just in case.
“Bea, why is there blood on my hand? Is your knee bleeding? What the fuck.”
Beatrice drops her head to hang between her shoulders, still without opening her eyes. Her own hand comes up without prompting to press into the fabric of her sweatpants over her knee. Sure enough, a noticeable amount of sticky wetness greets her over the sting of her destroyed skin.
She breathes out a long sigh.
“It’s nothing, I apologize for creating a mess. Just something small from yesterday’s training that I must have aggravated. I’ll go clean that up while you get dressed.”
She doesn’t wait for a reply before launching herself from the bed and hobbling over to lock herself in the bathroom, her legs somehow far wobblier and stiffer than she expected.
“Wait, What? Bea- fuck! Wait!” Ava calls after her.
She slams the door behind herself and presses her superheated face into the cool wood, ignoring the sounds of the halo bearer’s calls and the rustling of fabric and she shifts on the bed.
Ava stops calling for her when the door slams and Beatrice lets herself deflate with a choking gasp.
When she turns to face herself in the mirror, she can’t stomach the crazed, dazed look staring back at her. Before she knows it, she’s pivoting toward the toilet while a wave of nausea forces her back down onto her abused knee. All of those thoughts she’d packed down come tumbling out of her along with everything else as she heaves.