[fic meme] doing damage? sounds like fun (for not-my-savior)
She broke it…the crazy fucking bitch broke it.
Snarling quietly in the bathroom, Cain turned on the cold water in the sink and let it run over his hand, ice cold and painfully hard on the sensitive skin that would be marred with bruising come the morning. It promised agony and heat at the same time, and in his mind he was already picking the right kind of violence to make her pay for the loss of control.
Then she was there in doorway of the bathroom, a reflection of dark, predatory lust in her red silk robe.
“Is it broken?”
“What do you think?”
She moved into the room, hovering near his left shoulder, calm and cool. “I didn’t mean to break it.”
It’s the truth, too…she doesn’t care if she hurts him, maims him, beats him bloody and leaves him writhing because she knows he loves it as much as she does. She’s normally careful, though, not to break bones or damage him so badly in bed that they can’t fuck. She cares about his health…insofar as it serves her own pleasure.
Nobody else will hurt her the way he will.
She’s not sorry…she just didn’t mean to break it without his permission.
“I’ll live.”
He wasn’t aware of her moving, she was almost too quick. She was, however, by his side in an instant, his hand in hers. Her touch was too gentle, too delicate, a parody of a lover’s caress.
She brought the hand to her lips and kissed the back of it at the same time she squeezed, sending a flare of unbearable heat up his arm and through his body.
It wasn’t an apology…just a way to make up for her mistake.
Lifting the broken hand, he winced as his actions caused him pain, cradling her cheek and swiping his thumb over her split lip, already healing.
“You’re a sadistic little whore, ain’t ya?”
Her head turned into his touch, features contracting with a hidden wince as she bit his thumb sharply. More pain…more heat.
“Only a whore for you.”
It’s a lie, but he loved her a little for it as he used his good hand to shove her hard back against the wall and pinned her with his body. Their fingers locked, Slayer strength and broken bone as he jerked her robe open. Her free hand yanked at his sweatpants while he supported her weight…he was already hard as he found his way into her body, grinning to feel how wet she still was for him.
With every thrust, she tightened her grip. Pain and pleasure fought as he buried his face against her neck and bit, teeth finding the familiar mark she wore, the wound he never fully let heal to show every other man she bedded that she was fucking his.
His breath was harsh against her skin, hot with passion and pain. Her moans were music to his ears, punctuated by harsh keening noises as he bit hard enough to draw blood. Her pain, his pleasure, he was going to need a cast for damn sure oh shit oh God oh fucking Baileighgoddamnfuckingbitch…
He came as hard as she clamped down on him. For a delirious and giddy moment, he thought he might pass out from the combination of pain and orgasm. When she slid to her feet, he lifted his head enough to see the blood running down the side of her neck. The blood matched the color of her robe.
He didn’t call a doctor right away. First, he helped her wrap up again and cleaned the wound with gentle hands. The alcohol stung like a bitch, and the care was just another biting reminder that she’d screwed up.
Only then did he get out his cell phone and dial up an orthopedic surgeon that could fix his hand.
Snarling quietly in the bathroom, Cain turned on the cold water in the sink and let it run over his hand, ice cold and painfully hard on the sensitive skin that would be marred with bruising come the morning. It promised agony and heat at the same time, and in his mind he was already picking the right kind of violence to make her pay for the loss of control.
Then she was there in doorway of the bathroom, a reflection of dark, predatory lust in her red silk robe.
“Is it broken?”
“What do you think?”
She moved into the room, hovering near his left shoulder, calm and cool. “I didn’t mean to break it.”
It’s the truth, too…she doesn’t care if she hurts him, maims him, beats him bloody and leaves him writhing because she knows he loves it as much as she does. She’s normally careful, though, not to break bones or damage him so badly in bed that they can’t fuck. She cares about his health…insofar as it serves her own pleasure.
Nobody else will hurt her the way he will.
She’s not sorry…she just didn’t mean to break it without his permission.
“I’ll live.”
He wasn’t aware of her moving, she was almost too quick. She was, however, by his side in an instant, his hand in hers. Her touch was too gentle, too delicate, a parody of a lover’s caress.
She brought the hand to her lips and kissed the back of it at the same time she squeezed, sending a flare of unbearable heat up his arm and through his body.
It wasn’t an apology…just a way to make up for her mistake.
Lifting the broken hand, he winced as his actions caused him pain, cradling her cheek and swiping his thumb over her split lip, already healing.
“You’re a sadistic little whore, ain’t ya?”
Her head turned into his touch, features contracting with a hidden wince as she bit his thumb sharply. More pain…more heat.
“Only a whore for you.”
It’s a lie, but he loved her a little for it as he used his good hand to shove her hard back against the wall and pinned her with his body. Their fingers locked, Slayer strength and broken bone as he jerked her robe open. Her free hand yanked at his sweatpants while he supported her weight…he was already hard as he found his way into her body, grinning to feel how wet she still was for him.
With every thrust, she tightened her grip. Pain and pleasure fought as he buried his face against her neck and bit, teeth finding the familiar mark she wore, the wound he never fully let heal to show every other man she bedded that she was fucking his.
His breath was harsh against her skin, hot with passion and pain. Her moans were music to his ears, punctuated by harsh keening noises as he bit hard enough to draw blood. Her pain, his pleasure, he was going to need a cast for damn sure oh shit oh God oh fucking Baileighgoddamnfuckingbitch…
He came as hard as she clamped down on him. For a delirious and giddy moment, he thought he might pass out from the combination of pain and orgasm. When she slid to her feet, he lifted his head enough to see the blood running down the side of her neck. The blood matched the color of her robe.
He didn’t call a doctor right away. First, he helped her wrap up again and cleaned the wound with gentle hands. The alcohol stung like a bitch, and the care was just another biting reminder that she’d screwed up.
Only then did he get out his cell phone and dial up an orthopedic surgeon that could fix his hand.