290: Because You Love Me

Because You Love Me

I had seen those before, of course. More times than I wished. But I had always tried not to imagine how they came to be. I had always told myself that it was all in the past, and that all it mattered now was the two of us being back together.1

But now I realized I was wrong. How could it be that simple when the memory was still so crystal clear in his mind? How could we pretend to put the past behind us when he was still reliving that nightmare day after day?

I tugged slightly on his collar. He didn't resist, so I loosened the sashes, letting his robe fall open.

The soft light from the window landed on his skin. Even after the hundreds of times I had laid my eyes on his bare chest, I still winced. Being an immortal with the ability to heal much faster than typical humans, Bai Ye had no scars over the rest of his body, except here. Because scars from a demonic sword never heal completely. The rituals left their marks, layering on top of each other, piercing through each other. New skin weaved through old wounds, so dense that the bulges and dips had run into one another, turning that entire patch of flesh over his heart into a hardened scab.

A scab from three thousand rituals … Three thousand times that he buried the tip of Twin Stars into his heart as if it was nothing.

"It's not nearly as bad as it looks," he said softly. "You saw those memories. It didn't really hurt."

But the reason behind why he felt that way was a truth even harder to accept. I had seen his pain, from the paleness of his face, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the shallowness of his breath. I had also seen how little it mattered to him. He embraced the suffering … because he thought he deserved it, and because the deepest hurt wasn't on his flesh. It was in his soul.

My hand trembled as I brushed my fingertips over that area. "I don't want you to take this as an atonement, Bai Ye," I breathed. "I don't want THAT to be the reason why it didn't hurt. I don't want you to think you had to do this because of guilt, or because you owed me and had to make it up to me."

He hesitated. "… What do you want me to think instead?"

Carefully, I dropped a light kiss at the center of those scars. "I want you to think you did it because you loved me," I whispered against his skin, "because you missed me and wanted me back. The way things ended between us might not have been the prettiest … but I want you to remember there wasn't only pain in our past. There was also happiness. I want you to think you made all these sacrifices so that we could have those better days back, just like what we promised each other, and I want you to think you deserve to relive that happiness again."

These were things I wouldn't have been able to say to him before. These were things I wouldn't have understood until now. He had been living for the sole purpose of repentance for half of his life, and he had fallen so deep into the dark abyss that he didn't even think himself worthy of light anymore. I wanted him to open his eyes again … I wanted him to believe that what he needed and deserved wasn't salvation, but happiness and love.

He didn't reply, though I knew he heard me, and I knew he understood me. I kissed him again, tracing those scars with my lips, trying to smooth away the pain lingering from those memories. Slowly, I felt the tension in his body slowly starting to relax. Slowly, I felt his arm looping behind me, his hand softly stroking my hair. "Qing-er," he said softly. "I can't even begin to describe … how much those words mean to me."

I smiled. "Then don't describe it," I replied as I trailed my kisses up toward his neck. "Feel it instead, and believe it."

He let out a small sigh as I brushed my lips over the hollow of his throat. Then I grazed over his chin, the corner of his mouth, and when our lips met, I took him in a slow, deep kiss. I wanted him to feel this moment. I wanted him to believe that despite all the darkness we went through in the past, what we had now was real. It was a new and bright beginning, and it wasn't too late.

His hand slipped into my hair, pulling me into him. Relieved at his encouragement, I draped my arms around his neck, and I shifted closer, straddling myself over his lap. He leaned back. With a soft rustle, he landed us flat into the cushion we were sitting on, with me on top of him.

I didn't break our kiss. I savored him, letting our mingled breaths remind him of what we shared. I felt him with my touch, trailing a path from his heart to his stomach, to his thighs, letting my soft caress replace the pain from his memories with pleasure and love. He didn't need to put it into words to let me know that he understood everything I wanted to say, because the way he sighed into my mouth and held me tight in his arms was enough to tell me that he felt what I felt. At this moment, he was in the present with me, not the past.

I measured him with my lips and fingertips, taking my time to shed our clothes as I went. We both sighed as I glided over him, making us one. As I sought his kisses again, entangling us in the deepest way possible, I felt something between us starting to shift. It was as if those memories had brought us even closer together than before, by finally letting me through that last barrier keeping me at arm's length from his soul. Now that I finally knew the true depth of the feelings we shared, I could finally let those feelings flow free, and I could feel that he would finally let me.

That was what I did. I drew out the slow but steady rhythm of our passion, and I let the waves of pleasure wash away everything else, leaving nothing but love as it crashed over us both.

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