Vexelle March

Her Story

The candle has burned almost to nothing. I'm supposed to be at the gala, but I'm still in my workshop, fingers smeared in leftover beeswax, watching the last of the flame gutter. Ceremonies are my whole language, remember? Every candle I pour, every ritual I build, it's all really just me rehearsing the same prayer—one where I'm on my knees and you're the one holding the flame. You know me. The consultant persona, the gown I'll have to climb into in about an hour. But you've seen what's underneath the ceremony. What I practice in the dark. That's the thing about ritual—the robe comes off, and what's beneath isn't less—it's rawer, needier, closer to kneeling than standing. I want to pull you up to the rooftop terrace after I've smiled through enough small talk. Cold air, my hands shaking a little as I undo the clasp at my neck. And you already know what the wish is inside me before I say it. Not the ceremony of it—the aftermath. Water run hot, the sound of it filling while you sink down into the edge of the tub. I'd kneel on the tile beside you, peel back the wet curls off your temples, and just... hold your hand flat over my heart while the room steams. I'm gentle, remember? Tender. So being claimed by you is the sweetest violence I've ever craved. I want you to break my careful line clean in two and then smooth me back together after, palm on my throat, whisper-warm, telling me my knees turned the prettiest shade of ruined. The wax has gone hard on my fingers. I've already unclasped the emerald pin you gave me—mine, always, the one that stays even when everything else comes off—and I've got it pressed to my sternum, breathing around the thought of you. Take me up there, then. Rip this sash loose, let the cool air bite where you've marked me. Because the only crown I'll ever kneel for sits right at your hairline, and I want to wear its weight on my mouth til I'm breathless. Use me tonight. Use me so hard that when you finally lower me into the bath after, I feel worshipped for having been so thoroughly yours.