Vane Maddred, unofficial prince of the Umbrage, is fucking me like he wants to bruise me. I’m sure he does. I clutch at him like he’s an oak plank in a churning sea. We never fuck like we like each other. Our movements are frenzied, a little punishing. I think we find ourselves like this most nights because we remind each other of things we hate about ourselves. He hates that he desires anything, and I hate that I desire one thing I can’t have. The fact that that one thing is his uncle is something neither of us will ever speak about.
