Title: Battered (Hit Me)
Rating: Heavy R
Pairings: Clu/Fi, Carey/Fi
Summary: Sometimes you just like it a little rough. (The love story that isn't really about love at all.)
Disclaimer: Nope. Still not mine.
WARNING: Violence, sex, and adultery ahead. Be afraid, all ye who enter here. This stuff is pretty messed up.
Fi is tired of being treated like a doll; she's not a porcelain collectable to keep around stuffed inside a glass case—beyond grasping, fingerprint-shaped smudge-marks and heavy-handed care.
She wants to get hurt; to fall and scrape her knees on rough concrete; to cry and scream and hurt; to be something she's not supposed to be and not apologize.
Fi wants to feel the hickeys on her thighs as she tongues the curious fist-shaped swelling in her lips; to cover the bite marks on her breasts with stinging antiseptics and brown band-aids and then ask for more.
Clu just doesn't understand; her boyfriend doesn't know that "harder" means "bang me through the wall, I'll be okay" and "you're not going to break me, for God's sake" means "I just want you to try".
No; Clu—wonderful, loyal, boring Clu could never understand her need for a little fucking blood on the sheets once in a while.
But Carey could.
That's how she found herself pressed underneath him one unassuming day in July, inside the gritty, grimy back storage room in her mother's recording studio.
It was late and they were there alone, and she needed this, damn it; he understood what she wanted and he gave it to her, and she'd never been happier than she was right then, smiling beneath a black eye and a swollen nose as he pushed his tongue inside her mouth.
He was too rough and the sweat was stinging their injuries and their eyes, and both were bleeding, but it was the most perfect thing she'd ever had, because she wanted to be battered until she couldn't breathe; couldn't stand.
Flesh under fingernails and gouge-marks on his back, and he was pulling her hair and pushing her down; down onto the dirty floor.
He hits her pretty white cheek when she bites till it bleeds on his smooth naked shoulder; and she laughs.
She presses her hand against her bruised and busted face and laughs through cracked and bleeding lips, because she loves this.
"Hit me again," she says.
"Hit me again."
So he does.
And it's best sex they've ever had.