AN: Paul comes home angry and takes it out on Rachel. AH/AU. I didn't mean to bash Paul, or Rachel for that matter, in this story but it kind of just... happened.

Not my best work but it just came into my head and I had to write it.

I might re-write another version of this with more... romance? I guess...

Warnings: Sexual content (rape themes) - mildly-abusive Paul - Language

Sam can really go fuck himself for all I care, Paul growled mentally, slamming the door of his beat up, old car as he jumped out from behind the wheel. It was days like these when Paul really hated his job and began to question why he still worked for Sam Uley.

Oh right, because where the fuck else am I gonna work around here?

Paul glanced through his kitchen window, still standing beside his car, running sweaty hands through his shaggy, jet-black hair. Rachel was there, floating around their kitchen as though she didn't have a damn care in the world. Mostly, Paul appreciated her optimistic, happy nature. Not today. Today, just looking at Rachel's good mood annoyed Paul. I'm only working to support her ass.

As a good husband should, he shook his head angrily at his father's words from when he was a teenager. Why did I have to get married so young? Because that was life. Around here you left school and got a shitty job to support a woman you barely knew because you were both expected to just get married. Bullshit, that's what I say.

Paul eventually stalked through the front door, dropping his tools and jacket at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes glanced at the hole he'd made beside the front door some weeks back and thought how he'd really like to do that to Sam Uley's face right now. If Paul was honest, there were multiple holes around the house from where he'd lost his temper over the years. Why didn't the woman just leave me? Paul knew as soon as he'd thought it, that he didn't mean it.

"Paul?" Rachel's voice shook him from his thoughts and he turned to face her, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Hey baby, are you alright?"

"Sam," he answered, walking past her to sit at the kitchen table. "Get me some water would you?"

Rachel placed a glass of water in front of him, squeezing his shoulder as she did so but Paul shrugged her off, coldly. Right now, he didn't want her to try and make him feel better. He just wanted to be pissed at Sam for a while longer.

"What happened?"

Rachel had moved to the sink, running the tap to wash the dishes. Paul appreciated how she understood not to push him to feel better.

"He wants me to work more fucking hours next week for less fucking pay," Paul spat, glaring at the wood grains in their cheap dining table, his fingers getting tighter around the glass in his hand. "He said he needed to make some cut backs for this big job and for some reason that's our fault. He told me and Jared that if we don't like it, tough and if we won't do it he'll have to 'let us go'," Paul imitated Sam in a pretentious voice.

Rachel didn't reply, just listened, like she usually did when Paul was upset. No need to anger him further. Her hands dived into warm, soapy water as she began to clean, thinking over how she could make some spending cuts next week. Her teeth began to worry her bottom lip as she thought of Paul's mood in the next week or so.

Paul stood from the table, the chair legs scraping heavily against the floor. He placed his glass with the dirty dishes and as he did, his crotch rubbed against Rachel's ass, stirring feelings in his lower abdomen. Maybe a quick fuck will ease my mood, Paul mused, fingering the hem of Rachel's baggy t-shirt.

She glanced behind her, raising her eyebrow at Paul when she caught his eye. He looked back, his face emotionless but thoughtful. His hands travelled lower, moving over her ass and hips. Stepping forward, he pulled her hips towards his, lowering his lips to her neck and running his hands under her t-shirt and up to her bra-clad breasts.

Rachel moaned softly at his actions, feeding the fire inside Paul. In seconds, Paul had yanked down Rachel's denim shorts and panties, surprising her.

"Paul, just give me a minute to finish these dishes," Rachel was used to Paul initiating sex regularly but he'd never just pulled off her clothes without warning. "Paul!"

Rachel exclaimed, dropping the pan in her hand, as Paul ignored her, thrusting himself into her in one quick movement.

"Paul, wait," Rachel urged, trying to hold onto the side with her slippery hands as Paul continued to thrust into her, grunting in her ear each time.

Paul didn't even hear what Rachel was saying, he was only focusing on the feeling of being inside her and taking her against the sink. He liked the feeling of being in control as he grabbed her roughly, pulled her hair tightly, pounding her like a bitch, because in that moment, she belonged to him. He tried to slow down, realising he was taking all of his anger out on her when she whined painfully, her hands trying to brace herself on the tiles in front of her.

Slowing his pace, Paul kissed her neck softly, loosening his grip on her body and carefully removing himself from inside her. He turned her around in his arms, lifting her onto the kitchen side while kissing her reluctant lips.

"I'm sorry baby," Paul rested his head on her shoulder, shamefully, realising that he'd not even given her a thought.

Rachel's eyes were wide, almost fearful, but not angry like he'd expected. He kissed her some more, on her neck, behind her ear, down her jaw and finally kissing her soft lips, his large hands cradling her face. Rachel pulled herself towards him, shoving her hips into his but had no emotion on her face. Paul understood. She wanted him to finish. Not for her sake but for his.

He shook his head as he positioned himself at her entrance once more, annoyed that he couldn't, for once in his life, be a gentleman and go run her a fucking bath or something. Later, he promised, not sure if he really meant it.

He entered her slowly this time, leaning into her so his hands were on the counter either side of her ass and his head was rested on her shoulder. He rocked, breathing sharply into her ear at the feel of her tightness. It was selfish. But that was Paul. When he could feel his climax coming, his hips started to move faster and, instinctively, his hands grabbed a hold on his almost lifeless mate. Pushing into her for the last time, he tried not to collapse, as not to push her backwards. Instead he used every ounce of control he had left to push himself up off of the counter. Rachel's face hadn't changed. Bath, Paul concluded, guiltily.

Once Paul was standing, Rachel stood too, pulling on her panties and shorts and without a word, went back to the sink. Paul's teeth chewed, worriedly, on his inner cheek as he backed away and headed upstairs.

Rachel, although unsurprised at Paul's behaviour, hated how used she felt. She was supposed to be his wife, his partner. Not his... His bitch. Shaking her head sullenly, she placed the last of the dishes onto the side, wiping her soapy hands on a towel.

"Babe?" Paul's soft, cautious voice made her jump a little. Rachel just stared at Paul and he could see the hurt in her eyes.

Walking towards her, Paul reached out his hand, circling it around her waist and using the other hand to tentively stroke her long, dark hair. His eyes were sheepish and regretful, something Rachel wasn't used to seeing after one of Paul's temper tantrums. Because that's what that was, a temper tantrum.

"I'm gonna pick you up now," he whispered, hooking his arm under her bare legs. Rachel gave him a confused look, silently asking him what he was doing. He didn't say a word. Paul simply carried her carefully upstairs, into the bathroom, where a fresh bath was waiting for her.

She sighed and her face softened as she realised that he did really feel bad this time. When he'd placed her down, he kissed her head and turned to leave.

"Paul," Rachel's soft voice was like music to his ears. He didn't like it when she was quiet. "Aren't you gonna stay? You can join me, if you want..."

Relief. That's all Paul could feel. As he carefully undressed her and then himself, he promised never to treat this woman bad again. Even as he thought it, he didn't really believe it.

Yet, he didn't believe he'd actually run her a bath...

Thanks for reading and I hoped you liked.

Any ideas for a more romantic version of this, click the review button...

Maybe even the Favourite button as well ;)