by Cinnamaldeide

Content Warnings: Suggestive Content

Their subpar motel provided limited hot water. Hernell offered to take the second turn to wash, as always. Deceivingly polite.

‘Did you–’ Thomas began, perfectly aware of the answer even before formulating his question. Thomas knew. His conflicting emotions mingled in an uneven blend on his flushing face, as Hernell’s pearlescent spend had in water and soap at the bottom of the shower. Between the two of them, an artificial emptiness crafted in practiced hands and unresolved frustration lingered.

‘I did,’ Hernell confirmed, unapologetic, a damp towel wrapped not-quite-so-tightly around his waist. ‘Would you rather get involved next time?’


Cinnamaldeide doesn’t bite, more like she politely chews with her mouth closed. An amateur photographer and calligrapher in her spare time, she writes for fun and for despair.
Cinnamaldeide's website