The End of Eden

XXXII

In the days that follow Sleep's visit in the rose garden, he remains aloof, and I feel withdrawn.

I rise late from my bed, and retire early in the evening, though no matter how much I rest, I still feel tired. Four immediately noticed my exhaustion, the others following shortly afterward, though none of them asked just yet about it. Instead of us joining together every night though, they let me rest with them by my side.

When I have a rare jolt of energy, I seek Four out, and if I can't find him, I find Two, or Three, or Vessel and drag them to bed, because with that energy comes insatiable desire that cannot be relieved. I don't even know where it comes from; I just know I need to ease it.

I suppose I'm lucky to have my pick of the vessels, whenever I want, though they all slide the satin ribbon across my eyes to blind me from their faces. I even begged Four to start doing it again, and he reluctantly starts wrapping the ribbon around my eyes again.

A week after Sleep's visit to me in the rose garden, I wake with a start. I went to bed much earlier than everyone else, tiredness pulling me under. But I can feel the need ticking through me. I try to ignore it, readjusting myself too many times, then just rolling to my side and stuffing a pillow between my knees, but it is incessant; I must find release.

I slide from my bed, pull on the white satin robe Vessel gave to me over my nightgown, and I silently walk to the door that joins my room with Four's. I put my ear up to it, and hear nothing, so I quietly let myself into his room.

It's just after sundown and he remains awake, reading on his bed, one ankle crossed over a knee, his still blackened finger under his mask as he plays with it, pulling it away from his face, and letting it snap back into place again. He still had his hooded jacket on, the hood pulled up, as he fidgets with his mask. At my intrusion, he lifts his head to see me, and he sits up, uncrossing his legs, his book falling to the side.

"Little bird," he says, rising from his mattress. "What's wrong?"

I hedge, shifting from foot to foot. "I woke up," I begin, then sigh, stepping into his room more. "I need you."

"The come," he says, as he stands, and beckons me over. I go to him willingly, immediately, and when I get to his side, he tucks me into his body, his arms wrapping around me. I feel safe, and protected.

"You haven't been feeling well," he comments, brushing his hand along the back of my head, over my loose hair, and pulling away just slightly to peer down at me.

"I'm just tired lately, from the heat of summer," I answer. It has been unbearably hot the last few days, and my tiredness matches the hot spells. He hums in slight skepticism as he looks down over me, his hands traveling down my hair, dragging his hands down over the white robe, careful to not mar the delicate pure white of it, pushing it down my arms to let it fall to the ground. "Four, it's nothing more than that. It's just the hot summer days and unrelenting nights affecting me."

"Are you sure about that?" he whispers, and he lowers himself down to his knees. He kneels in front of me, his eyes meeting mine as I look down at him and I rub my hands along his head, the fabric of his mask soft under my fingers as I slide them under his hood. It falls gently from his head.

"Of course I'm sure," I whisper, his fingers pulling tightly at the fabric of my nightgown, so that I just let it slip from my body. Goosebumps instantly rise up. "What else could it be? It's not the food, or the flu, or anything else."

My fingers are around his jaw, sliding under his mask, pulling it up and away from his mouth to expose his lips. His eyes flutter closed as he presses his mouth to my stomach, my body immediately blazing hotter as he sinks his fingers into the soft flesh of my waist. I'm burning, and he is burning with me. And still, my fingers are pushing around his head, his lips pressing chaste kisses from one hip bone to the other. My fingers slide up, up... up.

I forget myself.

I forget what Sleep told me.

I forget the satin ribbon, the simple plea I made to Four, and his acquiescence.

The mask comes away from him easily with my fingers, and I squeeze the loose fabric in my hand, my eyes closed, my nails dragging along his scalp, and he moans against my stomach.

I drop the mask to the ground, and bend down, pulling him by his hair so his face tilts up to me. My lips are against his, and I am nearly feverish as our tongues meet. My arms wrap around his neck fully, fingers still sliding in his hair. He stands slowly, not breaking our kiss, and then lifts me into his arms. Our kiss only breaks when he places me reverently on his bed.

We aren't parted for long, and he follows right after me onto the bed, his mouth capturing mine again, his body sliding between my legs, his hands leaving a trail of black paint up my body to my breast which he touches, then kneads.

"Careful," I gasp, and he sighs in acknowledgement, his mouth separating from mine to replace where his hand was, kissing away the spike of tenderness he caused. And just like I always have, and like I always will, I forgive him silently for any sort of pain he may cause me.

Later, he kisses the side of my head. Our naked bodies are entwined, a sheet barely covering us, the lights in his room dim in the night time.

"I have to get to work at some point tonight," he whispers, and I smile.

Of course he has to work. He has to do whatever it is they do under the cover of the night, with the salvia leaves, the poppy seeds, or something else hidden away in the not-yet-explored parts of Eden.

I do not want to leave his side, but I slide from his bed, and he follows me. We silently get dressed, and he kisses my forehead before I turn away and head to the door joining our separate rooms. I turn to him in the doorway, halfway between his room and mine, my hand pushing open the door. He's sliding his mask back on, preparing to step out into the night.

"I love you," I whisper, and his eyes meet mine, his smile spreading across his face before it disappears under the mask.

"I love you too, little bird," he replies as I step into my room and I close the door behind me.

I walk over to my bed, the exhaustion dragging me down again, the ravenous desire low in me fulfilled, for now. I lay down, pulling a sheet up to my chin, and roll to my side.

Before I can let my heavy eyes slide closed, I see the crack in my front door that wasn't there before.