Summary: An intense one-shot. Fang's relationship with Max. Intense scene, not dramatic, but suggestion of rape. M, for your own discretion.
One: Me
He knew he should've eaten something that morning, but he'd woken up nauseated and panting from nightmares, not wanting to pause to eat, just wanting the release of physical activity, to burn out his dreams in bruises and sweat.
He found his way to her room.
He rocked his pelvis against her, slowly, harshly, as she squeaked and moaned in discontentment, still half-asleep. He was penetrating her in her sleep, but he couldn't help it—he needed this. Was this raping her?-He didn't know. It would only be rape if it was against mutual consent.. but she was half asleep at this point, and whimpering as his pelvis rocked against her.
He put the thought out of his mind as he continued on his focus of physical assertion, groaning a bit as he finally released himself inside of her. He sighed, satiated, and plopped himself down on the bed beside her as she curled up into a ball by his side and silent sobs let go.
He laid there, splayed on the side of her bed, wondering what he had just done.
She was curled into a ball at his side.. and he had raped her just now.
Good job, Fang. Good job.
And then she had turned over, face stained with tears, to grab hold of his face beseechingly, desperately.
Her face was filled with sadness, and the result of physical surprise and pain. Rape.
"Fang.. fang.." her voice let out, her eyes wettened and her cheeks covered with a watery sheet of salty tears and sweat.
"Kiss me.." she begged quietly, "please," desperate, even in her defiled state by him.
As if that was all that she needed to forgive him—to know that he truly didn't mean it. To find some, any, form of affection and love within him.
Fang stared at her eyes with pain shuttling onto his lower teeth, clamping his jaw shut. He had done this to her.. done so much, that she was now begging for a kiss, just to be reassured by his presence--comforted.
Painfully, he closed his eyes, his face still nestled in the palms of Maximum Ride, and lowered his head gently onto hers.
She was being comforted by the very person who had been torturing her physically just a moment ago. He hadn't even seen her face as he'd consummated their relationship--he hadn't even cared to--and the thought had never struck him, straddling the back of her thighs. The side of her face had been pressed into her pillow as she had whimpered quietly, not showing her face to him. He hadn't even noticed the stream of tears falling down from her as he had groaned in ecstasy.
And here, she was, asking him for a kiss.
So he tried to give her the saddest, most chaste, intense, kiss he muster. To show all his affections, and all his love for her.
To ask her to forgive him.
And she had calmed down.. stopped whimpering.. and her eyes had stayed closed even after he had released her, her hands falling down from his face to fall down beside her own. She fell asleep in the condolence of the kiss, his kiss, right after she got raped by him.
What had he just done to her?
Author's Note
I meant for this to be a one-shot... but if this gets a real big positive response, I might extend it into a story. If so, it would probably be focused on the character of Fang--how he fucks up. The story of a teenage boy who really doesnt know what he's doing, put into a terrible situation which demands him to know exactly what he's doing. He fucks up anyway. Responsibility, nightmares, dreams, thrust onto his shoulders in fashion that he doesnt quite know how to handle it--causing him to do things to fuck up. Just a story of pressure and how he deals with it. In this story, Fang would have alot more protaganist lead than Max would, giving him alot more problems.