Same song, different verse
This is Faith's POV to the ficlet FOUND HERE by lost_myshoe. *Anon what? LOL* I highly suggest you read it first.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Faith is used to having eyes on her so the feeling is nothing new. She knows the way she moves, knows the kind of attention having that much control over her body attracts. It‘s half the reason she does it. There’s always some poor sap in a place like this that’ll be able to give her what she needs, be able to take that edge off and make her scream in all the right ways until her voice is hoarse and she can‘t move for being fucked out. It’s a game with no rules, and everyone goes home happy because nobody really wins- it’s just a matter of picking out the right player. When she finally catches sight of the guy doing the watching, a hungry smile slides into place. Even sitting she can tell he’s tall, all dark hair and muscled body, but the look on his face-- damn, she recognizes that look. It’s equal parts hungry and hurting and she knows just the cure for both.
She watches him, watching her for a while as she dances, and she wonders what the bitch’s name was. There’s too much in that expression for it to be all about her, them, this moment right now. The hate, lust, want, need is radiating off of him enough for her to taste when all his broken edges are there on display. A better girl would want to put him back together-- Faith just wants to break him apart and let all that repressed emotion out for her own visceral satisfaction. When she gets close enough for him to grab her, the grip he has on her wrist tells her this is going to hurt… and that she’s going to enjoy it.
He doesn’t disappoint when the game begins, opening shot a volley of kisses that threaten to leave her breathless, and its war. They battle with teeth and tongues, nails digging into impossibly soft skin and straining muscles, fingers grasping for purchase in strands of hair. He gains ground and the brick is rough against her back while he’s hard against her thigh until he’s inside of her. It’s brutal and beautifully twisted, so fucking chaotic that it’s hard to recognize if they’re fucking or fighting when the truth is that it isn’t about one or the other, but both.
She doesn’t give.
He doesn’t relent.
They both take their pleasure from the violence of it.
When she comes she nearly forgets her own name. When he comes she learns the bitch’s name was Ruby. Faith only smirks at the knowledge there are people as fucked up as she is in the world when he releases his hold on her because he’s gotten a good grip on reality again. Her pants are a loss which she realizes once she’s pulled them up, but with a fuck like that she can’t even be angry at him for it. She crosses her arms over her chest with a grin instead. Nothing like that final splash of ice cold water in your face to help you see just how far you’ve fallen off the path.
“Name’s Faith, killer.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Faith is used to having eyes on her so the feeling is nothing new. She knows the way she moves, knows the kind of attention having that much control over her body attracts. It‘s half the reason she does it. There’s always some poor sap in a place like this that’ll be able to give her what she needs, be able to take that edge off and make her scream in all the right ways until her voice is hoarse and she can‘t move for being fucked out. It’s a game with no rules, and everyone goes home happy because nobody really wins- it’s just a matter of picking out the right player. When she finally catches sight of the guy doing the watching, a hungry smile slides into place. Even sitting she can tell he’s tall, all dark hair and muscled body, but the look on his face-- damn, she recognizes that look. It’s equal parts hungry and hurting and she knows just the cure for both.
She watches him, watching her for a while as she dances, and she wonders what the bitch’s name was. There’s too much in that expression for it to be all about her, them, this moment right now. The hate, lust, want, need is radiating off of him enough for her to taste when all his broken edges are there on display. A better girl would want to put him back together-- Faith just wants to break him apart and let all that repressed emotion out for her own visceral satisfaction. When she gets close enough for him to grab her, the grip he has on her wrist tells her this is going to hurt… and that she’s going to enjoy it.
He doesn’t disappoint when the game begins, opening shot a volley of kisses that threaten to leave her breathless, and its war. They battle with teeth and tongues, nails digging into impossibly soft skin and straining muscles, fingers grasping for purchase in strands of hair. He gains ground and the brick is rough against her back while he’s hard against her thigh until he’s inside of her. It’s brutal and beautifully twisted, so fucking chaotic that it’s hard to recognize if they’re fucking or fighting when the truth is that it isn’t about one or the other, but both.
She doesn’t give.
He doesn’t relent.
They both take their pleasure from the violence of it.
When she comes she nearly forgets her own name. When he comes she learns the bitch’s name was Ruby. Faith only smirks at the knowledge there are people as fucked up as she is in the world when he releases his hold on her because he’s gotten a good grip on reality again. Her pants are a loss which she realizes once she’s pulled them up, but with a fuck like that she can’t even be angry at him for it. She crosses her arms over her chest with a grin instead. Nothing like that final splash of ice cold water in your face to help you see just how far you’ve fallen off the path.
“Name’s Faith, killer.”