Author's Note: This is a drabbly thing written for a prompt from Disney Kink on LJ: "Anna in a love hate relationship with Hans, especially when it involves sexual matters." Rated for disturbing themes and sexual content.
She'll never admit it to his face, but she likes it when he's rough.
"Anna," he growls as he slams into her and she winces, knowing it's going to bruise. But she feels alive; the delicious soreness that emanates from her core after she comes is warm, tangible.
And so Anna wraps her legs around his waist, screams his name into his neck, traces bloody lines down his back with her nails.
She doesn't hate him because he tricked her into being engaged to him for her kingdom. She doesn't hate the fact he nearly killed her sister, and would have if she hadn't gotten there in time. She doesn't even hate the way she fell for his tricks with embarrassing ease, and was played for a fool.
She hates him because she loves him.
And how he makes her love him.
"What's on your mind?" asks Hans as they lay tangled in the sheets, exhausted. His neck and chest is an angry red patchwork of bites, and Anna takes a moment to appreciate it before replying.
"Nothing much." Her fingers glide over the clotting blood on his arms; he catches her slim wrists as they pass. She winces.
"As always." Hans' tone is mocking, designed to wound. She's angry, but her rage is mixed with desire in a dysfunctional way she can't begin to understand.
His hands turn to her body now – the yellow-green of fading bruises, and purple-blue of fresh ones colour her skin like her freckles alone used to. His touch is now deceptively gentle.
"Bastard," she whispers, and her anger sends a stirring of lust to her crotch.
Hans licks his lips. "You slut," he murmurs into her ear. "You still haven't had enough?" He's pressed to her inner thigh; she can feel him want her more with every word.
She wants to say no, to throw his poisoned words back into his handsome smirking face, but instead she kisses him deeply.
"I love you, Anna," he says when they part.
"I know."
He's smirking his pretty-boy smirk again. "Do you love me?"
"Right now, yes."