Title: Claim Day
Chapter 18: Naked Truth
Wendy
I paced the apartment for what felt like hours after my encounter with Cedric in the hallway. His disappointment in me was like a physical pain: I’d failed him by not being attentive enough to Gabriel. The thought made my stomach twist with anxiety. I needed to do better. I needed to make Cedric proud.
When I heard the key in the lock, I rushed to the door, smoothing my skirt and putting on my brightest smile. Gabriel stumbled in, looking even worse than he had that morning, his eyes bloodshot, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. The sight of him stirred something in me. Concern, yes, but distant, like watching a stranger struggle through rain.
“Gabriel! You’re back,” I said, reaching for his jacket. “Let me help you. You look exhausted. I could run you a bath, or make some tea? I found some of that chamomile you like in the kitchenette.”
He shrugged away from my touch, not even looking at me as he dropped his bag on the floor. “Don’t.”
I froze, uncertain how to proceed. This wasn’t what Cedric wanted. He wanted me to take care of Gabriel, to be here for him. But Gabriel wasn’t letting me.
“I love you,” I said, the words coming automatically. “I’m sorry if you’re suffering because of… the situation. Anything I can do to help, I will. Just tell me what you need.”
Gabriel ignored me, moving to the small desk in the corner and shuffling through some papers. “The cafeteria is serving food in an hour,” he said flatly.
I tried again, moving closer, searching for some way to connect with him. “The way you say it, I imagine it’s not something I’m supposed to be looking forward to.” I laughed, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “Though we’ve probably had worse... Remember the disgusting food they served at that hotel in Boston?”
Gabriel turned to look at me, his expression hardening into something close to disgust. “Stop it, Wendy. Just… stop. I know exactly what you’re doing, and it’s not working. You don’t give a shit about me or our memories.”
“That’s not true,” I protested, moving closer, reaching for him. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my body against his. “I still love you. I still want you. You’re my husband, my lover.”
He stood stiffly in my embrace, neither returning it nor pushing me away. I could feel his heart beating under my cheek, the familiar scent of him filling my nostrils but somehow failing to evoke any emotion beyond a detached recognition. I slid one hand down, brushing against the front of his pants, trying to arouse him like I had the night before.
This time, his reaction was immediate and violent. He shoved me away, hard enough that I stumbled backward, catching myself on the edge of the sofa.
“Enough!” he shouted, his face flushed with anger. “I’m not an idiot, Wendy! I know exactly what’s going on. You’re just like Elaine and Lenore. They were engaged, for God’s sake, and now they can’t even look at each other. The only difference is that your ‘master’ has been kind enough to lend you to me.”
“That’s not true,” I insisted, even as something inside me recognized the truth in his words. “I do care about you. I do want to be here.”
Gabriel laughed, a harsh, broken sound that bore no resemblance to his usual warm chuckle. “We’ve always been honest with each other, Wendy. Always. And now you’re standing there lying to my face.”
He stepped closer, his eyes boring into mine. “Do you truly want to be here for me? To take care of me?”
“Yes,” I said immediately, the answer coming from the part of me that knew what Cedric wanted me to say.
“Then tell me the truth from now on,” Gabriel said, his voice dropping to a dangerous quiet. “The absolute truth, no matter how much it hurts. Because if you can’t do that, then I’ve already lost my wife, and you certainly can’t be here for me.”
The thought of Gabriel pushing me away sent a spike of panic through me. I would be disappointing Cedric, and that was unbearable.
I sighed, my shoulders slumping as I realized there was no way out of this. Gabriel was right. If anyone could tell when I was acting, it was my own husband. We’d built our relationship on honesty and openness, and now here I was, performing my own marriage like an actress in a play.
“Fine,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the sofa. “You want the truth? I’ll give you the truth. I promise.”
Gabriel stood over me, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of anger and pain. “How do you feel right now? What do you want, and why?”
I took a deep breath, sorting through the tangle of emotions and programming in my mind. “I want to be a good wife to you,” I said slowly, the words feeling both true and hollow simultaneously. “But I want it because it’s what Cedric wants from me.”
I met Gabriel’s eyes, forcing myself to continue despite the hurt I saw there. “If he hadn’t told me to take care of you, I’d probably be like Elaine and Lenore. I wouldn’t even think about you unless prompted to, because Cedric… he occupies my thoughts. He’s the only one who truly matters to me now.”
My voice softened. “It’s not that I don’t love you, Gabriel. I do. I remember our life together, our plans, our dreams. But that love feels… distant now. My devotion to Cedric overshadows everything else.”
Gabriel snorted, but his reaction wasn’t as explosive as I’d expected. Some of the tension left my body.
He stepped closer, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. “Did you even enjoy having sex with me last night? Truly?”
The bluntness of the question caught me off guard, but I’d promised honesty. “I thought it would make you feel better,” I admitted. “I didn’t particularly enjoy it. It wasn’t unpleasant, but what mattered to me was pleasing you, because…”
“Because Cedric wanted you to take care of me,” Gabriel finished, his voice tight with anger though he remained surprisingly calm. “Of course.”
He sighed. “So what? You just assumed fucking me would help you achieve your goal, the goal Cedric set for you, and so you just did it? Just like that, without desire?”
I nodded, uncertain how to respond. Gabriel’s anger was palpable, but he seemed to be controlling it, focusing it inward rather than lashing out at me, for now. “It just felt right... I’d fuck you day and night if I thought it could help.”
“Jesus, you’re just a hooker now and Cedric is your pimp...” He ran a hand through his hair, his wedding ring catching the light. The sight of it did not elicit the same response as it once did. I felt a pang of frustration. It felt wrong, like the symbol of a misplaced allegiance. A lie.
“I want you to stop,” he said finally. “I don’t want you to do that again.”
“You mean the sex?” I asked, confused.
“I mean the pretending,” he clarified. “The fake smiles, the forced affection, the emotions you don’t genuinely feel. If you don’t care about me, then show it. Be honest. At least then I won’t have to torture myself wondering if any part of it is real.”
Panic rose in my chest. “But I’m supposed to take care of you! Cedric told me—”
Gabriel groaned in frustration, cutting me off. “I’m not going to send you away, Wendy. I’m not going to make you cry in despair because you failed your precious master’s instructions. I just want the truth from you. Is that so much to ask?”
Relief washed over me, though anxiety still lingered. If Gabriel sent me away, I would have failed Cedric completely. At least this way, I could still fulfill my mission, even if the parameters had changed.
“How can I be useful, then?” I asked, my voice steadier now, stripped of the false warmth and enthusiasm I’d been forcing.
Gabriel sat down beside me on the couch, then suddenly pushed me back against the cushions, his body looming over mine.
“What are you doing?” I asked, genuinely confused by this shift.
“If you want to be useful,” he said, his voice low and rough, “then I’m going to fuck you.”
I blinked, processing his words. Then I reached for the buttons of my blouse, starting to undress. “You told me not to fake emotions,” I reminded him. “So I won’t pretend to desire you.”
“You don’t have to,” he said, watching me with those tired, angry eyes. “You said you’d do it day and night for me if you thought it’d make me feel better. What? Do you mind all of a sudden?”
I considered the question honestly. “No, I don’t mind. I’m supposed to be here for you. If it can make you feel better, you can fuck me as much as you want. I’m perfectly okay with it.”
Gabriel pushed me back against the couch cushions, his hands rough as he yanked my skirt up around my waist. I didn’t resist, simply lifted my hips to help him remove my underwear. There was no tenderness in his movements, none of the careful attention he usually paid to my pleasure. This wasn’t lovemaking. This was something else entirely.
“If this is all I have left of my wife,” he growled, unfastening his pants, “then this is all I’ll take.”
I watched him with detached curiosity. The man I’d shared a bed with for twelve years looked like a stranger now, his face contorted with a mixture of desire and rage. I should have felt something, fear, perhaps, or sadness at what we’d become, but all I felt was a mild satisfaction that I was still fulfilling Cedric’s instructions. I was taking care of Gabriel, just not in the way I’d expected.
Gabriel positioned himself between my legs, not bothering with foreplay or preparation. “You’re not Wendy anymore. You’re just a fucktoy now, aren’t you?” he said, his voice harsh as he thrust into me. “Just a cum dumpster for whoever claims you.”
The words should have hurt, should have made me angry or ashamed, but they simply washed over me like water. I wasn’t aroused, but I wasn’t distressed either. My body responded mechanically, lubricating enough to accommodate him under his touch. I was simply performing a function.
“Is this what you want?” he demanded, his thrusts becoming harder, more erratic. “To be used like property?”
I didn’t answer. There was no right answer, and we both knew it. What I wanted didn’t matter anymore—hadn’t mattered since the moment Cedric had claimed me in that alley. My desires had been replaced by his, my will subsumed by the programming that now governed my every thought.
Gabriel’s movements grew more frantic, his breathing ragged. I could tell he was close, could read the signs in his body as easily as I’d always been able to. I wrapped my legs around his waist, not out of passion but efficiency, giving him better access, helping him reach his climax faster.
When he came, it was with a strangled cry that sounded more like pain than pleasure. He collapsed against me, his weight pressing me into the couch, his breath hot against my neck. For a moment, we lay there in silence, our bodies joined but our minds worlds apart.
Finally, he pulled away, tucking himself back into his pants with mechanical movements. He wouldn’t look at me as I straightened my clothes, smoothing my skirt back down over my thighs.
“The cafeteria opens in fifty minutes,” he said as he checked his phone, his voice flat and empty. “Don’t forget to eat.”
I heard him sniffle quietly and, without another word, he was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click that seemed to echo in the sudden silence of the apartment. I sat there on the couch, feeling his semen slowly leak out of me, and wondered if I’d done enough to please Cedric. If this strange, angry encounter with my husband counted as “taking care of him.”
I hoped it did.