Osmosis

His lover ate pain. Not in a S&M, kinky, fetish way. Literally. She could consume his hurt. All it took was her lips upon his grazed knee, her tongue licking his pounded thumb, a gentle kiss on his aching head. And the pain was pulled from his body, unravelled from him and coiled into her.

She would wince and smile crookedly. It hurt her, but not as it did him. Nor for as long. A bad headache would leave him in agony for days, tense and angry. The knot of pain dissolved within her in just a few hours. There was no one to take hers away, so she waited for it to go of its own accord.

When they fought, she refused him. The pain fast, she would taunt. Left him clutching his wounds - headaches, cramps, nausea. He forced her lips to his rigid shoulder once but there was no sense of floating relief. Instead she bared her furious teeth and sunk them into him.

Then it wouldn't work any more. Even when he cried and begged forgiveness, and she cried and begged forgiveness. Nothing. She couldn't eat his pain any more, no matter how she kissed, licked, blew or sucked. God knows she tried, if only to stop his wailing moans and loaded sighs. He said it was because she didn't love him any more. She said it was because he didn't love her any more.

It didn't really matter, but they were both right.

People stink

Of money. Blood, clean sweat. Drying ink and expensive powder that covers all natural scent, all the time. Metal.

Of sex. Dank, dark caves. Carefully hidden smells that dart through unnoticed if the moment's hot enough, distract and linger if it's not. Salt.

Of fear. Stale bread, faded fresh air. Cheap booze, and cheaper smoke. Tears.

In general.