Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Rating: M (to be safe)
A/N: I'm sorry for any mistakes - i know there must be a lot.. ich really, really promise to get myself a beta if i'm going to post another one ;)
He wanted to feel her.
He wondered why she let him take the charges. He was always the one in control. He built the walls and broke them down again, when he didn't need them anymore.
She must have known she would be able to get what she longed for if she simply was willing to take the first step. No way was he going to turn her down if she was calling the shots. She must know from their date, from their kiss, from experience.
Yet, she never tried.
Maybe she got back to her senses and finally let go of that irrational thing she had for him.
Maybe she hadn't.
She definitely hadn't. Judged by the look in her eyes when she mentally stripped him off his clothes. He knew she did.
He thought of her as an intelligent woman. He wasn't able to tell why she saw so much more in him. So much more than he really was. He wasn't anything deeper than he showed her. He had to make her see. Make her understood.
She would know tomorrow. He was sure of that.
He DID feel her right now.
It didn't take him much effort to get her to where she was right now. She didn't put on much of resistance when it came to him.
She never did.
Her back collided hard and with audible noise with his door frame. Not a bonebreaking noise. But a noise that was promising dark blue marks tomorrow.
He was tempted to ask her if she was right. He didn't. Her eyes closed, absorbing the pain, a grin formed on her lips still pressed against his.
She was a masochist.
Perplexed by her behavior he lost it for a millisecond and she took advantage of it. She had grabbed his sleeve and pulled with all the strength she could muster on him.
Against everything he had expected her to do right now, she pulled him in front of his couch, not his bed. Pushed him down on it and straddled him.
The next moment they were back to kissing again. He didn't analyze her taste. He didn't even recognize how unbelievably good she tasted. How perfect her lips felt or how incredibly they seemed to match his own. He really didn't. This was just to prove his point. He had to get through it to show her. Show her, make her understood what she seemingly tried to ignore for years.
Pain. A sharp pain spread from his under lip. He bleeds. He could taste it. Still, he didn't react or protest. He knew he deserved each and every pain he got from her, even if she didn't knew right know.
The taste of his own blood against her lips vanished after a couple of moments.
Maybe she wasn't that masochistic after all.
When her clothes were displayed all over his floor, he didn't even think about how beautiful she was. And how incredibly stupid she was, wasting her precious time with him. With her looks and everything she was, she could get whatever she wished. She shouldn't want to be with him if she could have more. But she didn't see it. And he didn't think about it.
When she lowered herself onto his erection and he looked her in the eyes he realized his mistake within milliseconds. Her Eyes showed nothing but pure desire and longing for him. He looked away before she could meet his eyes. He wondered for a brief moment what his own displayed.
When she started to move on top of him, he holds onto her hips like for dear life. These marks would match the others tomorrow.
When she came and threw her head back, he couldn't help but stare at her neck, travel to her breasts and her rapidly moving chest. It was like reality hit him, when he looked down to where they bodies connected and back to her lust filled eyes that met his for a moment when she came down from her orgasm and looked at him. It was that moment his own release came. The moment his brain triggered it. That moment he wished he would be able to forget about although he knew he never could.
When she sunk into his chest for the briefest moment and he felt her heat cover his cold shoulders, he closed his eyes. Not to remember. Only to think.
He didn't even have to say or do anything; she stood up a few seconds later and put her clothes back on. In between she threw him his vicodin bottle out of his jeans. Always the caring one.
Without collecting his clothes he limped to his bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him. To his surprise it only took another couple of seconds before he heard the front door open and shut. He slid down his door and buried his face in his hands. At least he hadn't to throw her out. Smart girl.
The next morning he successfully ignored her. It didn't took him much though. She had to run the ER and he hid in his office, insulting everyone daring to ask him something.
It was nearly midnight, when she knocked on his door, waking him from a more or less quiet sleep.
She wanted to talk. He dismissed her. Told her he was just testing limits. She stared at him in disbelief. He told her to leave and that maybe he was testing Cuddys limits tonight, since he wasn't that much interested in testing Foremans.
Tears formed in her eyes and he hoped she hated him.
After she left he drove home. He didn't care he had nightshift.
Back home he looked into his mirror when he walked by and stopped dead in his tracks. After a minute of staring at himself he crushed his fist to the glass and the whole thing shattered into pieces.
He had his painkillers and his whiskey. Loads of them. And sure as hell he was going to take whatever it took to forget for some time. In a few days, or maybe weeks she would be thankful. He bit his lip and it cracked open again.
She would be fine. The injuries he caused her would heal.
He would be back to normal.
He could taste his blood, but it didn't taste the same way it did when he tasted it from her lips. It didn't matter though, the taste soon mixed up with his vicodin and alcohol.
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