Sun, 5 April 2009 - 11:42 am

Marked

Last night, Ben drew me into the back room of the store and told me that he needed me. It was so dark that I could barely see him, but I caught the look in his eyes. I’m right here, I told him, I’m right here. A dam broke in him and what followed was the most intense sex I’ve ever had. He wasn’t rough – he’s never rough – but it was a lot about letting something give way, about not holding back. We hadn’t been together since we got to his sister’s building, and I think we both needed it.

It wasn’t until he got up this morning that I saw the splotches on his back, just like the ones on my arms. Neither of us had noticed them in the dark; even if the lights had been on, we wouldn’t have seen them during that. I asked him about them, and he got touchy until I showed him mine. He’d had them for a few days, he said.

I was sore and drained, far more than I should have been, even after such a bright bout of activity like last night’s. I didn’t like it, or the way the fear scuttled around in my stomach. A part of me knows that I was probably being over-sensitive and over-reacting, but what if I wasn’t?

 

Ben fetched Masterson over to us and made him check the marks. The doctor sighed and asked a couple of questions, and said that we’d all just changed our clothes. There was probably something in them that we’re allergic to. It’s also possible that the Rats booby-trapped the garments – maybe they made their own version of itching powder – and that could be causing it.

An allergy. I’ve never been allergic to anything in my life, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. It’s a relief to know that’s all it is. I’ll just switch to my old (yuck) clothes for a couple of days and wait for it to calm down.

Now, if only it would stop raining.

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