Romancing the Pain - Part 8
Title: Romancing the Pain
Rating: NC-17 (for language and a violent confrontation)
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia
Summary: Post episode 104 as well as my last fic, Come Back to Me. It’s basically its sequel; the events that occur after Silvia was released from the hospital.
A/N: This chapter’s dedicated to my wife, Xe. *waves shyly* I hope you’re feeling better, baby. Stay in bed and don’t make any swift sudden movements. Besitos! To the rest of my readers, thank you for continuing to read this story. Comments, insults and uh…banana peels are welcome. *smiles* Enjoy!
ROMANCING THE PAIN - Part 8
Silence blanketed the atmosphere, draping both women in a layer of tension. Pepa scraped her fork against her plate, pushing her paella around absentmindedly. Don Lorenzo had generously made them dinner upon bringing Pepa home from their outing and had threatened them both to finish every last morsel or so help him. The older man had purposely left that sentence to hang, allowing it to flourish their imaginations of what kind of punishments he would and COULD exact out on both women. Then he kissed the cheeks of both his daughters and left them to the quiet of the night.
Now nearly an hour later, both women’s plates were still proving to be more full than empty. At least Pepa tried, picking up miniscule lumps of rice and bringing it to her lips for chews and swallows. Across from her, Silvia simply dragged her fork back and forth, creating troughs in the rice, the expression on her face clearly stating that she was miles away. Pepa wondered just what horrific place Silvia’s mind had wandered off to but was afraid to ask. However, the silence was deafening and it stung Pepa’s ears with such shrillness that it made her blood run cold. She tried for some small talk.
“How was your day with Sara?” Pepa’s question pierced the tension between them, crackling and disturbing the air so much so that Pepa winced as the words floated back to her, scraping harshly against her skin.
Silvia jerked up, the sudden noise startling her. In reaction, she dug her fork under a pile of rice and brought it up to her lips, shoving the forkful into her mouth forcefully. She chewed slowly, stalling for time, not wanting to answer. It was all too apparent to the redhead that she had no choice in the matter when she finally swallowed and felt herself burn under the intensity of Pepa’s gaze. She forced herself to speak.
“It was fine,” she answered brusquely. She motioned for the saltshaker in the middle of the table, a simple yet significant divider placed purposefully between the two hurting women. “Pass the salt, Pepa.”
Pepa flinched at the impassive tone. It did not even sound like her wife, but a stranger Pepa did not want the pleasure of knowing. Pepa had had enough. Weeks of watching Silvia sink further and further behind her defensive wall, combined with Pepa’s own drinking, the events of that day; it was all too much. The brunette slammed her fork down onto the table. If there was one emotion she relished right now, it was anger. Anger was a consistent friend of Pepa’s throughout her childhood and into her adult years. It boiled her blood, crackled her nerves and shot down her veins like an injection of heroin. She cherished its sharp, crisp taste, allowing it to fill her senses. Eyes narrowed, she looked at the redhead opposite her.
“JODER, Silvia!” Pepa bellowed. She gestured between them with a violent flick of her hand. “Is this how you’re going to behave towards me for the rest of our lives?” She sought out Silvia’s eyes, willing herself not to flinch at the empty gaze. No, she wouldn’t give her wife the satisfaction of hurting her anymore. “Pass the salt?!” Pepa sneered. “You think this is some suburban commercial? Christ!”
Silvia didn’t react. “It was a simple request, Pepa,” she intoned passively. “If you can’t do it, I’ll get it myself.” The redhead reached over for the object only to have her hand smacked away. A flicker of irritation bubbled up in those dark eyes. “Don’t push me, Pepa,” Silvia warned.
“Don’t push me,” Pepa imitated mockingly. She sat back in her chair, spine tensed, ready for the fight to come. “Fuckin’ hell, Silvia. Listen to yourself. What the hell happened to you? Where’s the woman I married huh? Where’s the woman I fell in love with?”
“WELL MAYBE IF YOU LEFT ME ALONE OR JUST STAYED THE HELL AWAY FROM HERE, WE WOULDN’T HAVE HAD TO BURY THREE OF OUR FRIENDS!” Silvia screamed.
Silence. Complete and utter silence. Silvia’s outburst reverberated from her throat only to hang in the air like an impending death sentence. The redhead cupped a horrified hand to her mouth, unable to do anything else. The damage had been done.
Pepa felt like her wife had just slapped her in the face. She stared at Silvia in disbelief, unsure if she heard properly. But the tangible apprehension that lingered in the air only confirmed what her ears had tried to deny. Pepa felt a vice close around her throat. She stood up slowly, legs trembling slightly.
“So that’s it, huh?” Pepa rasped out, barely containing the pain in her voice. “You blame me for what happened?” She gripped the edge of the table with both hands, tears threatening to burn her eyes. She blinked furiously. “You think I’m responsible.” It was not a question. She looked hard into Silvia’s eyes and for the first time she didn’t feel their connection. It had been decidedly severed by the redhead’s accusation.
Silvia’s brain screeched in its tracks, trying to do some damage control. But what? What could she do to repair this? She saw the distance in Pepa’s eyes and it scared her. Scared her so damn much that it hurt to breathe. Why did she say those things? Why? “Pepa…”
The taller woman cut her off, holding out a hand. “No,” Pepa interrupted. “No. You think all this,” she waved a hand around them. “All of this is my fault. I get it. Fine.” She pushed her chair back further, her body language clearly indicating that she was about to bolt. “Fine,” she repeated shakily.
Silvia felt the dam burst and her anger returned in full force. She tried to keep her mouth shut, but when had it ever obeyed her? “Not everything is about you, Pepa” Silvia scoffed. She got up as well, picking up her plate in the process with the intention of heading to the sink. “If you would stop being so selfish, maybe you wouldn’t have interpreted the conversation wrong.”
Pepa couldn’t believe her ears. Rage filled the taller woman, searing a path down every nerve ending in her body. Her blood burned so hot that Pepa felt as if her soul was on fire. She made her way around the table in four quick strides, and roughly grabbed Silvia’s elbow, spinning the smaller woman around to face her. Scorching brown eyes met angry chocolate ones.
“I’M selfish?” Pepa yelled. “How DARE you? I’M not the one spending my days at a cemetery, shutting myself out from the world. I’M not the one avoiding their emotions, their feelings. I’M not the one acting like a complete BITCH!”
The last word was spat out with such contempt that Silvia reached up a hand to smack Pepa in the face...only to have the taller woman’s hand shoot out to lock around her wrist. She snarled down at the smaller woman. “What you’re going to hit me again? Once at the precinct wasn’t enough?”
Silvia attempted to wrench her hand off Pepa’s. She tossed her plate violently back onto the table, uncaring of the mess as food scattered off the plate and onto the floor. “Get your fuckin’ hand off me, Pepa. You have no right!” she shoved her palm against Pepa’s chest angrily. “Get the FUCK off me!”
Pepa growled and pulled Silvia closer, bending her head down and capturing Silvia’s lips in a bruising kiss. She felt the smaller woman resist and moved closer to Silvia, arms snaking around the redhead to lock her in a tight embrace. She pushed Silvia back against the table, lifted her on it and reached behind them to swipe all the plates and cutleries onto the floor. They fell to the ground with a resounding crash, plates cracking and shattering, food spilling into a distorted mess. But Pepa paid it no heed. Drowning under a sea of rage and now lust, she practically threw Silvia onto the table, crawling on top of her wife and recapturing bruised lips.
Silvia did not resist for long. She reacted on instinct and kissed Pepa back, biting down hard on the taller woman’s lips, indenting them with neat short lines. She bucked up against Pepa, only to have the brunette’s hand slam down on her hip, pinning her in place. Silvia, angrier than she had ever been, but the anger punctuated with such an overwhelming feeling of lust, retaliated, reaching one hand up to grab a painful fistful of hair, using the grip to yank Pepa’s head back. With the taller woman’s now exposed neck, Silvia craned her neck up, latching lips, mouth and teeth to the side of Pepa’s neck, biting down harshly. She felt Pepa gasp in pain and bit down harder, sucking at the pulse point.
Pepa practically slammed Silvia’s head back onto the surface of the table by grabbing a fistful of red hair in return, forcing Silvia to detach her lips from her neck. Silvia’s bite pulsated angrily, sending wisps of pain to cascade down her veins. Pepa momentarily looked down at Silvia, at her wet, bruised lips. Part of her was scared at the way they were acting but her libido and her rage had taken over. She clamped down hard on Silvia’s bottom lip, tugging and pulling, grazing her teeth roughly against the soft texture. A bead of blood speckled from broken skin and Pepa licked it away. She snaked her tongue out, plunging it into the depths of Silvia’s mouth, scraping its tip at the back of Silvia’s throat.
Silvia felt the way Pepa ravished her mouth down to her core. This was wrong, a part of her knew that. But she could no more stop the coming storm than she could revive her dead friends. She jerked her knee up between Pepa’s legs, rubbing insistently over the taller woman’s crotch, feeling Pepa tremble above her.
Pepa wrenched her lips away from Silvia’s and sat up on the smaller woman’s stomach. She glanced down into stormy eyes and ripped open Silvia’s shirt, scattering buttons all over the place. In one swift motion, she pulled Silvia up, the action causing Pepa to slide down and sit on Silvia’s thighs. Reaching behind the redhead, she unhooked Silvia’s bra, practically dislocating Silvia’s shoulder in her attempt to discard both the bra and the now ruined shirt.
Silvia wasn’t planning to be submissive. Far from it. She bunched the ends of Pepa’s t-shirt in her hands, forcing it up the woman’s torso, making Pepa lift her arms in the air as she pulled the t-shirt off with a flourish.
Pepa did not give her the time of day to watch the t-shirt float to the ground as she re-covered the smaller woman’s body with her own. She grasped Silvia’s jaw with one hand, forcing the redhead to turn her head to the side. Tonguing the now exposed neck, she ran wet trails up and down Silvia’s nape, using her teeth to graze a path down from Silvia’s earlobe to her collarbone. She felt Silvia claw her fingernails down her bare back in response, and gritted her teeth against the pain, knowing that the redhead’s manicured nails would have left red streaks down her back. But she didn’t care.
Pepa’s other hand drifted down to Silvia’s jeans. She deftly unbuckled the belt, yanking it out of its clasp. She fumbled shortly with the button on the jeans before releasing it and tugged down the zipper forcefully. She glanced down, shimmying both Silvia’s thong and her jeans down to her knees before maneuvering a hand up the redhead’s inner thigh to play in the wetness she knew would be there. Pepa wasn’t in the mood for foreplay. Anger still burning through her veins, she simply wanted to give into the primal emotion of fucking Silvia senseless and making the smaller woman come apart in her arms.
Silvia’s breath hitched in her throat as she felt Pepa’s long fingers drag down her slit before back up to roll her clit between a thumb and forefinger. She groaned and tried to lift up her head to watch Pepa’s actions but the taller woman reached up and yanked her head back down onto the table.
“You don’t get to watch,” Pepa hissed, eyes narrowed to slits. She moved that hand down and roughly fondled Silvia’s breast, pinching and teasing the nipple to a stiffened point. Her other hand that was between Silvia’s thighs, swam through the thick wetness to circle Silvia’s opening. Pepa gave the redhead no warning as she slammed in two fingers, pulling them in and out forcefully. She felt Silvia buck against her fingers and worked a knee up to pin down Silvia’s bucking.
“You don’t get to move either,” Pepa spat out. She leaned up until her lips were pressed against Silvia’s ear. “I’m going to fuck you til you come so hard, your head will spin,” Pepa husked, voice dripping with lust and more than a little fury. She accentuated her promise with a bite to Silvia’s earlobe.
Silvia moaned and shuddered, half in fear, half in anticipation. She had never heard Pepa speak to her in that tone of voice before and part of her was afraid. However, her fear was overridden by her arousal and she succumbed to her fate. She whimpered as Pepa added a third finger, purposely pumping them in and out but not giving Silvia the relief she so desperately craved. She gasped in shock and tensed as Pepa worked in a forth finger, stretching her to her limit.
“Gods, you’re so fucking tight,” Pepa grunted, the muscles in her arm standing out starkly as she stilled her fingers momentarily, allowed Silvia to get used to the fullness. She felt Silvia relax slightly and began thrusting into her wife, half fisting the woman beneath her. She brought her thumb into play, flicking Silvia’s clit as she drove her fingers deeper pass clenching vaginal walls. Pepa felt Silvia’s arousal wash over her buried fingers, signaling the redhead’s impending orgasm. She twisted her wrist slightly, fingers shifting position inside Silvia, rubbing against the wet and pulsating passage.
“I want you to come for me,” Pepa demanded. “I want you to come hard, all over my hand.” She twisted her wrist the other direction and curled her fingers, thumb pressing down hard on Silvia’s clit.
Silvia came screaming into the night as her orgasm ripped through her, shattering every single nerve cell and dusting every inch of skin in goosebumps. Her legs went limp beneath Pepa’s, muscles quivering as aftershocks battered at all too tensed muscles in her thighs. She shook violently, unrelentingly, shivering and shaking from the intensity of her orgasm. Her shakes and quivers dissolved into sobs as the aftermath of weeks of pent up emotions smashed through her defensive wall, crashing down on her with a fury Silvia had never experienced.
Pepa looked up in concern as Silvia sobbed, tears streaming down her face at such a speed that Pepa was afraid she had somehow hurt her wife. She withdrew her fingers gently and slowly, cautiously working each finger out. Scrambling back up, she picked up the redhead and folded her into her arms.
“Silvia? Silvia? Baby?” Pepa rocked the redhead, trying futilely to wipe away her wife’s tears to no avail. She ran a critical eye down Silvia’s body, searching for injuries (besides the ones she administered during their lovemaking). “Baby are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” Pepa was beginning to panic. “Tell me where it hurts, pelirroja.”
Silvia shook her head, burying her face into Pepa’s shoulder. “I’m *hic* I’m so sorry, Pepa,” Silvia sniffled, her body shaking so hard that she practically vibrated against the taller woman. “I’m s-so-sorry…” She hiccupped dangerously and wrapped her arms around Pepa’s neck, holding on for dear life.
Pepa finally understood. She gathered Silvia more firmly into her arms, her action almost suggesting that she was trying to get her wife to crawl into her skin. She sat up straighter on the dining table and pressed comforting kisses into sweaty red hair. “Shh…” Pepa soothed. “It’s ok. It’s ok. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” She felt Silvia tighten her hold in response and Pepa felt her eyes fill with tears in return. She let them fall, scattering them into the red hair below her chin. “I love you,” Pepa swore.
For the longest time, the two of them stayed in that position, wrapped so tightly around each other that nothing could pull them apart. Not gravity, not the mafia, not the world.