Monsters

Ishka - Age 15: Restless

It had been over five months since Kirg had confessed his self-harming tendencies and asked her for help. Ever since then they'd alternated sleeping in either his bed or hers, but she made sure he was never alone at night or too long in the mornings; she sometimes even sat in the bathroom while he took a shower. 

She couldn't help what he did at school or anywhere else, but she made sure he had no opportunities to slip up at home. 

Every night she made him show her his arms and legs, more so he'd always think about her seeing a new cut than her actually believing he'd do it again. 

As far as she knew, he hadn't hurt himself again, though he said the ice trick they'd found online helped. She still worried he'd give himself frostbite, but as the weeks passed, he even did that less and less. 

His biggest issue remained the compulsive masturbation, and neither of them knew really how long he was supposed to not do anything before he could start again. She wished he's speak to a therapist, but she'd kept her word and not pushed, so they were muddling through blindly together. 

Trying to make sure a hyper-sexual teenage guy didn't get handsy with himself had been insanely difficult, especially while still keeping it a secret. 

Still, she felt like it'd brought them closer, and Kirg actually seemed happier now--more alive. He was less distant, less sad, less angry. Now he was just frustrated and moody, but she knew why that was. She knew, because she was too. 

Keeping Kirg celibate had the added unfortunate benefit of keeping her chaste as well. And even in those rare moments when she was alone, she found herself feeling too guilty to give in. Usually. 

Still, she didn't live with the guilt when she did give in. After all, though he was under continuing orders to be hands-off, it wasn't like he was completely going without. After sleeping with him every night for the past few months she now knew both what a wet dream was and why it was so accurately named. 

He'd been completely mortified the first time it'd happened, especially when he'd been forced to explain it to her. 

What she hadn't told him was that she'd actually caught him sleep-humping a few times since, woken up by the movement. Early that morning she had actually watched him cum. She'd felt like such a sleaze, but she couldn't help herself. To a girl that had never been kissed, watching the guy she'd been in love with for years as he made love to the mattress--well it had been the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed.

And here they were again, ten-thirty at night, with her sitting on the closed toilet as he took a shower. 

Her eyes started drifting closed as the steam from the shower warmed her. She didn't hear him cut off the water, didn't hear him tell her he was done, didn't see him open the shower curtain and startle. Didn't see him smile at her with eyes filled with tenderness and love.

Somehow she ended up in one of their beds, snuggling into his arms, and there she remained until morning.

***

She dreamed she was touching herself, but no matter how fast she spun her fingers, no matter how hard she pushed, she couldn't quite get there. 

She woke up frustrated, hating that the dream hadn't been real. It had been over a week, and after watching yesterday's show... 

She glanced at Kirg uncertainly and thought about sneaking back into her own room for a couple minutes of privacy. 

His arm fell across her waist, and she froze, looking at his face. Had he known somehow? 

But he was sound asleep, his morning wood poking her the outside of her thigh in a way that had become almost reassuring. Like the sun rising every morning, she'd begun to expect he would rise every morning too.