The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the dimly lit living room.
Nyx sat on the edge of the leather couch, legs drawn up slightly, her fingers clenched into the fabric of her loose sweater.
Across from her, Raphael sat with his usual composed air, watching her with patience that both comforted and unsettled her.
Tonight was different.
Tonight wasn't about rules, submission, or expectations. It was about something far more difficult.
Touch.
Nyx hated how her body reacted to the simplest of gestures. A hand on her shoulder, a brush of fingers against her wrist every interaction sent her spiraling back into memories she wished she could erase.
Severin's hands, rough and demanding.
The way he forced control over her body, over her very existence.
Raphael knew.
And so, tonight, he was going to help her relearn touch.
"I need you to trust me," he said, his voice a deep, soothing baritone. "And I need you to trust yourself."
Nyx swallowed hard. She wanted to desperately. But fear sat in her throat like a stone.
"I'll let you set the pace," Raphael continued. "You decide how far this goes."
Nyx hesitated before giving a small nod. "Okay."
Raphael extended his hand, palm up, a silent invitation.
It was such a simple gesture.
But her fingers twitched in her lap, unable to move.
"I…" Her throat felt dry. "I don't think I can."
"That's okay." His voice held no judgment. "You don't have to. But try something for me?"
Nyx lifted wary eyes to his.
"Breathe," he said.
She exhaled shakily.
"You're safe," he added.
Safe. The word felt foreign. Unreal. But as she sat there, staring at his open hand, she realized she wanted to believe it.
So, slowly, tentatively, she lifted her fingers and placed them on his palm.
Warm.
That was the first thing she noticed.
His hand was warm, solid. But he didn't close it around hers. He didn't take control.
He just let her touch him, giving her the power to decide what happened next.
Her breath hitched. "I… don't know what to do."
"You don't have to do anything," Raphael murmured. "Just feel."
Nyx's gaze flickered up to his face, searching for hidden intent. But all she found was patience.
He wasn't trying to manipulate her, wasn't trying to mold her into something for his pleasure.
She let her fingers trace lightly against his palm, her touch hesitant but curious.
No pain.
No punishment.
Just warmth.
A shaky exhale left her lips.
Then, suddenly, she pulled her hand away. The panic was instant, curling around her chest like a vice.
Raphael didn't move toward her. Didn't demand.
Instead, he spoke in that steady, grounding tone. "Breathe, little one."
Nyx squeezed her eyes shut, willing her heart to stop pounding.
This is different.
Raphael is not Severin.
She repeated the words in her head until the panic eased.
And then—
"I want to try again."
Raphael's lips curled at the edges, the faintest hint of approval lighting his gaze.
"Good girl."
A shiver ran through her, not from fear, but from something else something new.
She reached out again, pressing her palm into his. This time, she didn't pull away.
---
The Power of Choice
The following nights continued in the same way. Small moments of contact, always on her terms.
Raphael never forced. Never demanded.
When he handed her a glass of water, he let his fingers brush against hers.
When they walked through a doorway, he guided her with a gentle touch on her lower back.
Each time, he gave her the chance to step away.
And each time, she stayed.
One evening, as they sat in the lounge, Nyx found herself staring at him, a realization forming in her mind.
Submission wasn't about losing control. It was about choosing to give it.
"I want to try something," she said suddenly, her voice softer than she intended.
Raphael arched a brow. "Tell me."
Nyx hesitated, but she had made up her mind.
"I want you to touch me."
His expression remained calm, though she didn't miss the flicker of pride in his gaze.
"How?" he asked.
She swallowed. "I don't know. Just… gently."
Raphael studied her for a moment, then slowly raised his hand. He moved with deliberate patience, giving her every opportunity to stop him.
She didn't.
His fingertips brushed against the side of her face, featherlight.
Nyx stiffened on instinct, but…
There was no pain.
No pressure.
Just warmth.
Her breath shuddered out of her. She didn't realize she was holding it until Raphael whispered, "Exhale, little one."
She obeyed.
And when she looked into his eyes, she saw something that sent a different kind of shiver through her.
Approval.
Not the twisted approval Severin had conditioned her to crave. Not something tied to obedience or punishment.
This was different.
This was earned.
Nyx's lips parted. "Did I… do well?"
Raphael's fingers lingered against her cheek for a moment longer before he lowered his hand.
"You did perfectly."
A warmth spread through her chest.
She felt like she had finally achieved something.
The praise made her feel warm inside.
For the first time in a long, long time, she didn't feel so broken.
Maybe, with Raphael, she could unlearn the past.
Maybe, just maybe...
She could relearn touch.