Disclaimer: I Own Nothing
It was probably because of your smart mouth and my short temper. Because you grabbed a little too hard. Because you pointing your finger in my face - you must be mistaken, cause I'm sure as hell not a mirror. I grabbed that boney wrist - the one that the accusing finger was attached too - and pulled my right arm back and let you know exactly what I thought about that. You retaliate before your head has even snapped back to its proper position. I feel every one of your knuckles as they collide with the side of my face. I release your wrist and push you as hard as I can and you fall back, your upper back colliding with the back of the sofa. You gasp and your fact contorts in pain and I feel a bolt of worry but then you're back on your feet.
"You wanna fight like a bitch?" You ask and your hand shoots out and grabs a fistful of my hair. I grab your wrist on instinct but that does nothing. You slam my head into the wall and I see flashes of color. I can't even think straight for a moment, I do however feel your hand traveling down to my neck. I kick out, my foot collides with your knee and you hiss. Your hand tightens, your thumb effectively cutting off my air. I'm truly surprised when you throw me like a rag doll. I land on the floor, barely avoiding that stupid fucking table you insisted on having. I push myself up and see you squatting in front of me.
"You done?" You ask and I'll be damned if I am. I want your fucking blood now bastard.
"Fuck you," I spit and I kick and I know I get you in the balls. You fall back on your ass and I'm on you in an instant. I clamp my knees against your hips and grab your jaw - I'm sure there will be bruises, because you always did bruise easy with your China Doll skin. When you raise your hand I reach between us and grab and you stop, your mouth falling open and a chocked, pained moan spills out.
"You done?" I ask and when you just start to raise your hand again I just grab harder and you stop.
"I'm done," You grit out and I smile.
"Good boy," I say condescendingly and bend down and kiss you. I loosen my grip and undo your jeans - because Mama taught me to always say I'm sorry. You gasp through clenched teeth and I remove my lips from yours. I pull back and look at your face. A bruise is already forming on the side of your face - a defined bump there too. You're eyes are confused and conflicted - you don't want to give into pleasure, you want to be mad at me for something I didn't even do. You're lips are expressionless. I bend back down, this time I go for your neck, forcing your head to the side. I bite the pale flesh and you gasp, grab the scruffy hair at the back of my head. I let you pull me away and your blood is on my teeth, on my lips and I'm smiling. I lick my lips and start jacking you off - because your dick's so suddenly hard.
"You're a fucking bitch," You growl and then force my mouth against yours. Your tongue sweeps the inside of my mouth, desperate for a taste of your own blood. I laugh into the kiss and flick my jagged thumbnail against the head of your dick and your hips buck slightly. This is sick, this is twisted, unhealthy and disturbing - you pull away, pull my bottom lip between your teeth, which you move with precision and split my lip - and I wouldn't have it any other way.
God I so don't know if I'm even allowed to post this here...I think so I've seen sex scenes here...whatever. This was inspired by Florance + The Machine's Kiss With A Fist (Love that song). I wrote it as an Axel/Roxas with Roxas being, essentially, the dominant one. I like this one just because I'm in love with the idea...i have issues.
