Mirrors
A/N Hey! Who is ready for some bathroom smut? I know I am. Sadistic power-games and loving pain. Enjoy! You sick fucks. I mean that in the nicest way possible. I don't know who's sicker. You, or myself for writing this...O.o
South Park sadly isn't mine. But one of these days Matt and Trey are collaborating with me. They just don't know it yet! XD
Inspirations: Fer Sure
Band: The Medic Droid. If you haven't heard of them, GO RIGHT NOW. That is all.
Kenny
I stared back at my battered reflection in the colorless glass, the porcelain white sink shown vivid specks of maroon liquid dripping forward. The color so eye catching, it almost took my mind off the pain I felt. Another sadistic power-game. Not that I was complaining. I never did. As always, I roll with the punches. And this time, I sickly enjoyed it. My pain is his pleasure. His fucking release. I'll do anything for him to get his oh so sweet release, because I never am the selfish lover.
His touch starts out smooth, strange really. He's never smooth. Never runs his hands down my hips. Yet, as he's standing behind me, he does just that. Resting his head again my neck, he bites. His side teeth – the sharpest, punctured the skin of my throat. The blood trickles down the front of my chest. It's warm and sticky. My eyes are trained on the mirror in my bathroom. His breathing is ragged behind me. His eyes electric blue, crazed and dangerous. Just how I like him. My blood stains his white teeth, running down his lips, he licks them. The blood blends in. drying almost instantly. He licks the newly made wounds, I mewl and scratch, snapping my head from my reflection. He chuckles lightly, ripping at my blonde hair, as I look at the reversed side of the mirror. He smiles satisfied.
"Watch me." his whisper lingers in my ear, echoing slightly, my hands are shaking, touching the porcelain. The rapid tapping caused by the shivers make him smile. He knows he has me. I can't do anything to prevent what's about to come. Our eyes lock in the mirror. My dark blue eyes catching the glance of his electric makes me gasp in a low growl. He sees my reactions, knowing I can't hide, I'm forced to show him all of me. Whatever I have to offer. My imperfections are no longer shielded by a fake smile. Slowly I'm crumbling. Which is usually what he wants. My back muscles flex as his digs his nails into my pale skin, I grit my teeth, baring my discomfort.
"You don't like that, do you?" he speaks aloud, I'm almost tempted to turn around. Maybe he's really not as cold as he looks right now. Maybe he's sorrowful and maybe he won't hurt me. Maybe the blood seeping from my neck is just apart of my imagination. The bruises may not be real. Maybe this time he'll say he loves me. Who knows with me, my own mortality doesn't exist, why should any of this be real?
As sadistic as we are, I know we're perfect for each other, I believe he knows as well.
His voice cuts my thoughts, as if he knows what I am thinking. I can swear he can read my mind.
"This isn't fake, the pain you feel is very much real. The pleasure you may feel is all your bodies doing, I'm just the cause. The bodies a beautiful thing." he traces his fingers lightly over my stomach. I shutter. "A simple touch makes you shutter. A hard enough bite makes you bleed, now how rough can I be to make you scream?" I have no words to describe him. He knows my bodies triggers, the body must be learned, to be handled the right way. The right responses, the right marks. He tells me many things I have yet to learn.
"Lean forward." he asks. It's polite, once again, not like how he usually is. I oblige, watching myself shift closer to the cold glass. He stops me with a light tug on my hair. His voice is airy, almost chilling. He speaks.
"Relax. Keep your eyes on nothing but me in the reflection. Whatever you feel go with." I nod slightly. As he starts moving his thumbs in a light circular motion all through my back. I feel my fear melt away with each touch. He moves up to the side of my neck. Both arteries that let me breath, he rubs. That same hypnotic motion. My gaze is heavy on his concentrated face. He smiles at me. I feel dizzy. My limbs feel heavy, and I no longer can support myself. I bend over the sink. My vision sways, he doesn't let me fall. His voice is so distant, but his lips nip at my ear.
"Can you feel me?" I weakly nod. He scratches my stomach, ripping through my flesh from behind, the blood flows lightly. I see it, but I don't feel it. My mind is foggy,
"Why-is there-no-pain?" my speech comes out as if I'm in a drunken haze. When I know I am very much sober.
"Amazing, yes?" I caught his lips move. But his voice comes through my ears as a deadly whisper, rather then full volume. My head is spinning. His hand lightly scratches down through the waist band of my boxer shorts. Clutching my hardened erection. I moan, again, echoing through the air. He bites my neck at a higher point. I groan, vibrating his lips through the base of my throat. He pumps harder and faster. I grind my hips against his hand meeting his pumps.
"More.." I gasp out, barely recognizing my face in the mirror.
I hear a zipper coming down, as I feel his own erection against my tight entrance. I feel light poking with his fingers, but I don't feel him slip inside. The pain doesn't come. But his lips capture mine, delaying me a look in the glass. His own erection dripping in fluid. He shoves inside me. My mouth agape. Garbled speech leaves my mouth.
"Good boy." he smiles slamming harder and harder in me.
"Love you" is all I can say. He slams hard again in me. I feel a dull sting, as he continues. A warm tingling starts through my legs, working towards my hips, climbing to my arms. I shake uncontrollably. I feel him touch my prostate. I scream, loud, ragged, deep words. Dirty with agression and pain.
My world is in slow motion as I orgasm. He is close, I feel him. I feel him pulsing in my clenching body. With a final thrust we both climax. I moan his name, he moans mine. He pulls out, I feel warm liquid against my legs dipping in and around the curves of my calves. He sinks down to his knees, in front of me. I know what he's going to do. He takes me in his throat. As I slam my head back against the glass I watched him defile me in.
Pops from his lips leaving me make me hard again. I feel my legs shake.
"S-stop. P-please." my slurring speech does not make him give up. Finally my orgasm hits me. Like a ton of bricks I slam down on the marble floor. He craws up towards me. I feel his tongue lick up my bloody torso. I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of warmth flooding me. He stopped suddenly. I opened my eyes. He's standing over me, pulling me towards my feet. My brain still not working correctly.
"I love you." He finally whispers.
"I love you too..." his kiss was soft. Yet I knew his love was poison.
Subspace was a dangerous thing. Especially when Stan Marsh is in control of you.
