Author's notes: Okay. So I wrote a second chapter. I'm not sure if I want to turn this into a full-length story or what. So review and tell me. Should I or shouldn't I?
He looks at me from across the dinner table with malice in his eyes. He's such a beautiful boy. A beautiful man. I still feel the sting of his bite upon my shoulder and the tear of his fingernails in my flesh. Goten is shoving food in his face like a normal sayian, oblivious to the silent electricity that raged from me to Trunks.
The family is happily chattering amongst themselves and I am quiet. I always regret the animalistic behavior between us. I know that in his mind lurks evil, and it seems only towards me. But that anger that he carries, the desire, it's more than I could ask for. No one would be able to understand the urge I have for him. I want to feel the intensity.
Because there is no passion like the passion of anger.
He stands with his plate still half full and pushes his chair in, "I'm done." He announces in a low voice. "But you still have half your food on your plate!" Chichi exclaims. "I'm not feeling well." Trunks answers. He shoots a warning glare towards me. I know what it says, 'follow or it'll be worse next time.'
I wait two minutes after he leaves the room and I excuse myself as well. Slowly I wander the halls of the house, peeking in each room cautiously. My footfalls are nearly silent on the floors and adrenaline is pumping through my veins.
From behind me I am grabbed and pulled into a room. His arm is constricting around my waist. I could scarcely breathe due to the pressure of his muscle. "Are you afraid?" He hisses into my ear. I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. He pushed me on a desk, pencils and pens flying to the floor. I grip the edge of the desk tight and manage a gasped "Yes."
He slaps me across the face. He loves the sound of the smack, skin hitting skin. His eyes are alive and dangerous in their lustful state and I bit my lip hard in anticipation. His hand trails up my torso and to my ribs, but he hesitates. This, of all things, scares me. Never once has he ever stopped even for an instant. I look into his eyes and see they are growing cloudy.
"Despicable." I spit. My remark rekindles the fire in his mind. He pulls at my shirt and sends the buttons airborne. His feverish hand finds its way up and down my body and his teeth find the wound from before. He bites back into the wound, re-opening it and letting a tiny river of crimson trickle to my collarbone. He's fumbling with the zipper of my jeans when we hear a knock at the door.
"Hello? Trunks?" I hear Goten call. He pushes me off the desk with a great amount of force and I fall to the right side of the bed. He wipes his mouth were traces of my blood could be found. "Yeah?" He calls back to Goten casually. "What are you doing? Are you alright?" Goten asks. He fixes his shirt and runs his fingers through his damp hair.
"Yeah one minute dude." He calls. He sends me one more fiery glare telling me that tonight I shouldn't sleep. He opens the door a crack and slips out, leaving me with a button-less shirt and a bleeding shoulder.
But I know one thing. He'll always be back.
