Odi Et Amo | CORIOLANUS SNOW

14 | like a man

WORD COUNT: 2584

×××

STEAM EMANATED FROM the near-boiling bathtub, scorching Kyra's skin. Dark curls floated around the submerged woman as the water tinted red, the remnants of dried blood washing away from her pale skin. With the heat soothing her sore muscles, Kyra let her throbbing mind (curtesy of her hangover) drift over the memories of her night spent with that young god. 

While most of the night had a hazy hue to it, what had transpired in the common room was crystal clear to her. After their bodies battled together, Kyra had descended into a peacefulness unlike anything she'd ever felt before, unable to fight the fatigue that had swiftly washed over her. When she awoke, just before the crack of dawn, Coriolanus was gone.

At first, she thought the whole thing had been some sick, wonderful dream. But the purple bruises that painted her ghostly skin, the stinging scratches that decorated her, and especially the ache between her thighs, all suggested quite the opposite. The rest flooded swiftly in after that, transparent as the water she now bathed in, but there was one part of the night she still couldn't quite decipher: the last thing Coriolanus had said to her.

Slightly pre-occupied with her own orgasm, Kyra couldn't be sure if Coriolanus had told her he loathed or loved her. Perhaps it didn't matter, since yesterday had proved that their definition of hatred was a little different to everyone else's. But one thing was certain after last night, as much as it still made her nauseous to admit it.

Kyra Tanwen was undeniably in love with Coriolanus Snow.

And she had a feeling that last night was more than just another one of Snow's infamous hook-ups. Whatever that meant, she wasn't sure yet. For her or for them. But for the first time after nearly two years of grief, Kyra was ready to figure that out with Coriolanus.

"Kyra!" Her mother's voice called from downstairs. "You've got a visitor!"

And it seemed he was too.

Rushing from her bath and quickly drying herself, Kyra wrapped herself in a simple silk robe and hurried downstairs, a tad more eager than she would care to admit. She took a moment to fix her still wet hair over her shoulders, letting it frame teasingly the neck he had kissed only hours earlier, before rounding the corner into her living quarters...

...Where Medea sat sheepishly atop their maroon couch.

"Good morning," the redhead greeted with a weak smile.

Trying not to appear too shocked, or disappointed, Kyra approached the woman and hesitantly sat beside her, confusion laced in her words, "Uh, hi?"

"You never told me you play!" Medea noted with a glance towards the dusty piano in the corner of the room, her cheery attempt at small talk more awkward than anything else.

Kyra's gaze followed Medea's, picturing when she and Coriolanus had played together mere days ago, before replying weakly, "I don't, not really, only... sometimes."

"That's so cool!" Medea grinned, followed by thick silence. Silence that Kyra made no attempts to fill, prompting Medea to speak again, "Got a bad hangover today?"

"I've had worse." Kyra answered, clearing her throat, and then tensely asking, "You?"

"About the same." Medea's smile faltered, and Kyra observed how damaged the redhead's normally perfect nails were. Cracked and red around the edges, as if she had been picking at them all night, it was Medea's nervous habit that Kyra had held her hands to stop time and time again. Noticing Kyra's curious gaze, Medea breathed out in answer, "But... I think the guilt is eating me up more than the hangover."