"I swear it won't happen again."
"You always say that."
"Well, this time I mean it, asshole."
It was a lie. They both knew it.
She said the same thing everytime they woke up in this situation. Their clothes scattered on the Ground. Hickeys covering her neck and shoulders, bruises forming on her hips. Long red lines on his back, where her nails pierced the flesh.
"Also, stop smoking."
"Or what?"
"Or I will kick you out. Without your clothes."
She hated this-this longing. Longing, because it sure as hell wasn't Love. That was one of the things that the both of them agreed on.
Love was discribed as Butterflies in your stomach, your skin tingles where they touch you, you blush, you are happy when that special someone is with you.
She only has Butterflys in her stomach before she comes, the moan beeing cut off by the throat she sinks her teeth into. Her skin burns when he touches her, because he knows when and where to do it. The heat in her Face grows with her Pleasure and not because of something else. And the only Emotion she feels during their activities is frustration.
"You wouldn't."
"Tch. Bite me."
"I already did that Yesterday."
"I swear to-"
The Morning after is always like this. They wake up, she regrets everything, he smokes, they speak (He beeing the smug asshole that he is and she getting more and more angry), one showers- the other one makes coffee- and then the roles are reversed.
Sometimes, after that, they will sit down in the kitchen and drink their coffee together, in silence, and then go to their Partners. Other times they will go immediately and not spare a Glance at each other.
"I will go first."
"I don't care."
He stands up and she looks at the marks she left. Dried Blood. Good. He deserves it for teasing her. Every. Fucking. Time.
His Hair -long, silver, his weakness- falls down his back, swinging slightly as he walks. It's the same Hair she pulled at Yesterday, which made him moan and growl. She can see his muscles flexing. He has the Body of a-
O-Hell-No.
Her thoughts didn't just go there! She stands up and curses when she sees herself in the Mirror. Her pale skin is red -slowly changing to purple- ,where he bit her, and she ghosts her Hand over them.
"You really are an asshole!"
She shouts and walks out of the Room. He won't answer -she isn't even sure if he heard her- and she wouldn't care anyway.
After all, starting her Day with a Coffee sounds good.
I have no excuse.