My breathing still hasn’t settled. The air is thick, too warm, pressing against my skin like a second weight. Sabina is still holding me down, fingers locked around my wrists, her body pressing into mine. Her grip had been unyielding—not rough, not cruel, just... absolute.

The radio hums in the background. The song had been playing for a while, but I hadn’t noticed the words until now.

No masters or kings when the ritual begins There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene Only then, I am human, only then, I am clean

It hits like a blow to the chest. A shiver rolls down my spine, something primal, something terrifyingly right. This is why I couldn’t resist. Why I didn’t even want to. Why I had never wanted to. Because this is what felt real. Not the years spent pretending to be strong, to be dominant. Not the way I used to force myself to act like a man supposed to.

Here, pinned beneath her, with my hands trapped in her grasp, I wasn’t failing to be a man—I simply was.

And she knew it. She watches me. She sees me. She always has. Her thumbs trace absent circles on my wrists, but she doesn’t let go. Not yet.

“Sabina...” My voice cracks. The word doesn’t feel like enough, but I don’t know what else to say.

She exhales softly, her gaze heavy with something deep, knowing, unshakable. “I felt it the first time we kissed,” she murmurs. “You needed someone to see through you, didn’t you?”

A lump catches in my throat. “I...”

“You spent your whole life fighting yourself,” she continues. “Trying to be something your father taught you to be. Something you thought women wanted.”

My stomach twists. The memories are sharp, too sharp. The way they always left.

The way one of them—Anna—spat the words like a curse:

"You’re pathetic. I thought you were a man. You just let me take the lead like some spineless."

My breath stumbles. I turn my head away, but Sabina doesn’t let me hide.

Her grip finally loosens. Not a release. A choice. “I knew,” she whispers. “I knew from the start.”

My heart is hammering. “What did you know?”

She smiles, slow, unapologetic. “That you were meant for devotion.”

The words sink deep, curling in my ribs like something inevitable.

I was born sick, but she loves it Command me to be well.

The words throb in my skull. “All this time...” My voice is hoarse. “You—you always knew I was like this.”

“Yes.” She’s still watching me, silent. Waiting.

My whole life—every fight, every failure, every shameful, desperate attempt to be something I wasn’t—it all led here. To this moment. My hands tremble. I don’t know if it’s fear or relief.

And then—the song’s final plea:

Offer me that deathless death, good God, let me give you my life.

Sabina reaches for my hand. "Come with me" she whispers.