Everything always felt wrong when they were alone together. Everything always felt too right when they were alone together. They were an oxymoron together: too soft and yet too hard, too light and yet too heavy. They were everything at once when they were together, alone or not.
He always felt just right. He was perfect.
She felt too wrong. She was imperfect.
Her touches were light. His were too hard. She barely brushed skin. He bruised. She pressed. He broke skin. Her fingers were delicate. His hands were always pulling at her hair, pulling her closer and trying to break.
He was too rough.
She was too delicate.
He always held her down, as if she would run away. She let him do what he would, as if he wouldn't do anything if she helped. So, he was always on top. She was always being teased.
He liked to tease her.
She liked it.
They were together too often. They weren't with each other often enough. They were too soft. They were too hard. Too delicate. Too rough. Too perfect. Not perfect enough. They teased too much. They didn't tease enough. They were too much.
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NejiHina drabble.
Standard disclaimers apply.
