TW: Milly’s story contains Coercive Behaviour
Milly wanted to stay put, her legs intertwined with Hunter. The tiring day saw her melt into the cotton bedsheets and the soft mattress beneath. Her fingers stroked Hunter’s hairless chest. A fine layer of sweat covered his skin, which rubbed off on her. The aroma of stale cigarettes, mixed with lavender, was hers now. Milly buried herself deeper, covering her nakedness with the sheet. She heard the beginnings of the twin’s hungry cry. A verbal one from her lover asking what she had prepared for dinner. His stomach grumbled, and hers replied. Milly imagined tucking into the lasagne Scarlett brought, a meal she would claim to be of her hand. It was a promise made to Scarlett to ensure Hunter would eat. On unsteady legs, she collected her clothes and headed into the nursery.
Hunter stretched out, the sheet covered enough to give the imagination a pause. He smiled, satisfied at his performance, the best he had given that day. Becoming a musician was difficult. Fingers calloused from the exertion placed on the fretboard. There were songs where chords stretched his hands, contorted them into uncomfortable positions. It was a small price to pay, but the gigs were shallow. He found performance opportunities in dive bars filled with chain smokers, with no place better to enjoy an afternoon. Alcohol came free, a bonus to top up his minimal pay. People coughed, jeered, or ignored him as he strummed out the first set. Hunter wanted a shot at a professional gig. A wedding or a birthday, something where people wanted to hear him play. An opportunity for the record label to see his worth. For this, he needed an agent. The cost in the short term would mean further restrictions on their luxuries. What other choice was there when he was the sole provider?
He settled at the table. The tomato sauce, with its rosemary, sage, and thyme, brought an earthy warmth to his nostrils. The neat slice melted on the plate. Layers of thin pasta sheets separated the beef-laden sauce. A fine layer of white sauce, with a hint of mozzarella, gave it a creamy texture. Extra shavings of the same cheese melted on the top, begging someone to devour them. Hunter watched the steam rise from his plate, the clinking cutlery opposite him. She lied. He knew.
The mouthful lodged in Milly’s throat. She could feel it burning, yet it refused to budge. Hunter worked hard to give her and their children a life. All he asked in return was a home where he could relax. Milly should be affectionate and there to ease his stress. It was a homemade meal, a happy child, and a clean house. He felt this was a small ask of her. Instead, she invited a friend who held negative opinions of her partner. Milly ignored the needs of their children and the dust collecting on the surfaces. She opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He had taken her to the concert and not berated her for hugging another man. These trips were a luxury they could ill afford, one he wanted to give her because she was his girl. Hunter admitted he was a jealous man. Loving her increased his desire to protect her. No one else in this world would love her as he did. When she looked her worst, Hunter remembered how beautiful she looked after a shower. He loved how she smiled when laid beneath him. Another man would never accept she was still learning how to keep her man happy. Hunter wanted to teach her and help her become the perfect woman.
Hunter chewed. Milly could hear it squelching. His lips smacked together as he shoveled in another mouthful. He hated when she cried, accusing her of emotional blackmail. Her tears were a way to manipulate him into letting her behave like a child. Milly could feel the salty liquid and dare not blink as it rolled down her cheeks. A tingle in her nose warned of more tears to follow. She listened between the mouthfuls to the rules of her womanhood. Friends were something they should share together, and couples like them with children. James and Selena needed a dedicated mother to prepare them for life. He needed a woman to keep his home and his heart. To create a safe and loving space for him to feel embraced. Milly had shown herself untrustworthy as the infants lay crying. She was socialising, demonstrating a degree of neglect not tolerated in his house.
The tingling became a hardened lump in her chest, a dam waiting to burst. It took considerable strength to fight the urge to cry. Milly wanted to scream at him. Hunter had it wrong. The babies were sleeping until he slammed the door. The words did not come. Her silence gave Hunter time to consider his final rules. Milly needed to remember he was her family, and she was selfish to impose on her cousins. Scarlett had enough to do without providing them with meals, Milly should be cooking. They would visit for special occasions, and Milly could call once a month when he was home to chat with them. Her mouth slackened, her breathing heavier as she fought her panic. Hunter held her hand, his voice low, stern, eyes meeting hers. He repeated the same threat as he had before. Failure to follow these simple requests would see the court deem her incapable. Milly would no longer be a mother to James and Selena.
Hunter and Milly in Bed https://www.patreon.com/posts/77430339
Hunter and Milly at the Table https://ts4-poses.tumblr.com/post/624116162073067520/sitting-and-chatting-so-i-started-this-pack-a
If you are affected by Milly’s story, help is available: https://www.womensaid.org.uk/
By the Grace of Sim Gods 