I wanted to make this a long story, but it kind of works as a one-shot. I guess let me know what you think.
D/c: I don't own these fictional characters. Just the fucked up situations I put them in.
W: Language. Het sex. Hinted femmeslash/yuri. Mentioned abuse. Not for children.
Yep. Enjoy.
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Lie to me.
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She tried not to scream as he slammed into her over and over, his fingers bruising her upper arms as he held her against the mattress. Her teeth sunk into his bare shoulder and she tasted the salt of his sweat.
"Bitch," he hissed, but there was no real tension behind it.
Her head slammed back into the pillow as he hit the places deep inside her that only he could. And for a while, she tried to forget that he was a boy and that she only liked him for the fury that could match her own.
He never mentioned it when she kept her eyes closed and whispered curses in Spanish that sounded suspiciously like Brittany's name. Instead, he fucked her hard and deep, trying to forget all the shit in his life for a little while.
"Almost there," she muttered desperately, arms twisting to break the jewish punk's hold, but to no avail. "Come on!" she demanded, dark eyes snapping open to glare at him.
He smirked and took both her wrists in one hand, the other reaching down to press calloused fingers against her swollen clit. Her eyes fell closed and her jaw clenched tight. He almost lost it when a shiver went through her body, making her twitch around his cock.
Her body arched under his hold and he felt her coming undone. She shook with desperation while his fingers drew rapid circles over her love button. Tremors ran through her and she spasmed around him, juices slicking his sensitive skin. He couldn't control himself any longer and his hips thrust against her as quickly as his body could manage until the heat became too much to bear and he let it go.
She heard his groan and turned her face away so she wouldn't see him in pure ecstasy. She felt his hands tighten their already vice-grip on her wrists and knew she'd have some explaining to do tomorrow. She felt his seed shoot inside her and drip over her thighs as he pulled out. His grip loosened, but held her for a moment as he panted above her.
As they always did, she turned her face away so she didn't have to see him clean her up. She finally looked his way as he was throwing a shirt over his head. She saw the scars on his back crossed by new, angry, red lines. And before he could cover them, she saw the dark bruises spotting his ribs. She had ignored them while he was pressing kisses over her neck and lining himself up against her. And now that the fabric was covering them again, she wasn't going to mention it unless he brought it up.
He turned to her and met her eyes. He gave her a small smile.
"Love you, San." He said gently, voice still low. He crossed to her and kissed her quickly.
"You too, jew-hawk." She smiled back and he sat beside her, pulling her small frame against his. His thick fingers traced the tan skin of her arms up to the dark places where his hold had been.
"I'm sorry," he sounded genuine. She shrugged against him.
"I like it rough." She answered, but he nuzzled into her hair.
"Thank you," he whispered. "I needed it tonight."
"Want to talk about it?" she asked carefully. He was quiet a moment before she felt the grumble in his chest from his voice.
"Rough weekend." He said, stroking her sweaty hair back. "Ma's gone with Sarah. Left me alone with him. He lost his poker game." Puck shrugged as though that were a satisfactory reason. Santana wasn't going to accept that.
"What was it this time?" Her small hands reached back to run through his mohawk in a way she knew calmed him, but she still felt him squirm a little.
"He was yelling, I tried to walk away from him, he didn't like that too much." Puck took in a shaky breath. "Belt." he answered the unasked question.
The latina girl snuggled tighter against him and let him pull her close.
"That's not all," She said softly, thinking of his bruises.
He exhaled sharply and she almost thought he wouldn't answer.
"Guy's an asshole." The boy said nothing else and she didn't push it.
They were quiet for a long time, Santana staring out the window and Puck stroking her hair gently, caring. She felt loved for a while and he felt like he had some reason to keep going. Neither knew how long it had been when her clock beeped and shook them back into reality.
"I don't wanna go back there." His voice was soft, pleading hopelessly.
"I don't want to be alone." her voice echoed his.
They both asked a silent question to one another. 'Lie to me?'
"You'll never be alone. You'll find a good guy who doesn't come running to you when he's broken. Maybe you won't even have to find him, maybe he'll even come to you." He knew it wasn't what she needed to hear, but as long as she was lying to herself, he would continue to tell her what she wanted.
"This fucker will get tired of punching on you and will run out. Or maybe your mom will come to her senses and kick him out. Keep holding on, babe. It won't be long." He could have cried in desperation to believe her, if it wasn't such an unmanly thing to do. Instead, he settled on shifting away from her and standing. He forced himself to smile at her and step into his shoes. When she smiled back, the look in her eyes said what they both thought; 'If only...'
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Mmhmm.
Till next time,
-J X