Blood Deep
Author: Eden Lee Raven
Rating: Er.. NC-17, for violence and abuse. I think...
Pairing: Fuffy (who else?) and hints of spuffy. I promise there's a reason for it
Authors Notes: I hate spuffy, it's vile an' horrible. But I promise there's a reason, and I promise it's only hints and nothing overt or anything like that. Oh, and it's kinda angsty. Back to form I guess lol. And it hasn't been beta'd 'cause I'm an impacient bugger.
*
He wasn't the first person to hurt me physically. On the nights when he lazily explored me he found the scars. The ones she left behind, a purposeful remind of her that I could never be rid of. Buried into my skin, like the memory of her. He never asked me who those scars belonged to. We both knew it wasn't me. He never tried to cover them with his own and he never asked why I bit my lip, sometimes so hard it'd bleed, because he knew how much I didn't want to call out the name that was marked so permanently into my mind, it was like the scars on my body.
A perfect set of teeth marks on the curve of my hip. Furrows on my back from a set of fingernails, designed to make me bleed. And I did, over and over again. But sometimes it wasn't from the outer scars she gave, but from the inner ones. Because she'd always make herself leave, even though I could see she never wanted to.
Some nights she'd make me scream for so long, and so loud, my voice would sound rough and hoarse the next day. Another reminder of her. She tried to constantly make me always think of her. I could have told her she didn't need to bother; she was already blood deep before she ever made me spill a drop.
And even though my memories of her are all hard and scarred, there was something under it. A hint of tenderness, of something softer that she just didn't know how to share. Of those times when she looked at me a certain way when we were out with my friends, so dark and curling, but there was always something at the edges. Like she was telling me even before we got to the screaming and bloody parts, of how much she wouldn't want to leave, but she just didn't know how to stay.
She was like a caged animal; growling and violent. But exactly like a wild animal, when that cage door was opened, you'd never be able to close it again. And I could see it, stirring inside of her, which is why I never made her stay. But she made herself stay one night, and I thought my wild animal might've been ready to be tamed.
I was wrong.
So was she.
The next few months were full of pain, of tears and nights I wished she would take all the hurt away with a sharp bite and stinging nails. It ended with a knife to her gut. Oddly fitting that we've marked each other as our own with scars that'll never fade, and always remind us of the blood we made each other scream.
So he knew that there was another who took pleasure in making me bleed. He knew the memories were like the scars and would never fade. It's why he knew I could never love him. My heart was never big enough to hold the darkness of them both.
A pale hand curls around the iron balcony railing a few seconds before she hoists her body over to stand in front of me. She gently takes the half drunk bottle of beer out of my hand and takes a long swallow. I watch as her throat convulses and feel as things low in my body tighten.
"Stay." It's soft, and if she weren't more than human she wouldn't have heard it.
Without replying she takes my hand and pulls me into the circle of her arms, gently kissing my shoulder.
"I can't. Not yet." I don't try and convince her, I know better than to try and tame her animal before it's ready. One morning I'll wake up and she'll still be there, and that's how I'll know that she's ready. But until then we have this; a hot night in Rome and a cool bottle of beer before she leads me inside and loves me in the only way she knows how; with teeth and nails and screams so primal they make the throat bleed.
Until she's ready to be tamed, blood marks us both.