Whore


Author's note: I'm not ready to start of another multi-chapter fic, but I still have a million ideas running in my head. This ficlet is a lot darker than I normally write, but angst is a valuable emotion. Enjoy and review.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

You zip up the fly of your pants. You're still breathing heavy. You entire body is sore, especially the tender skin between your legs. You attempt to regain you composure as you pull your hair off your face. You look at your watch, shift starts in 15 minutes.

You look at him still sitting on the bed. He's staring at you. You felt his piercing blue eyes the entire time. You don't know what to say. You figure you'd be better off not saying anything at all. Silence is virtuous.

You bend over and pick up your bag. You move to the door. He doesn't make any attempt to stop you. You pause for a second and look at him. You're hoping for something, anything, but there's nothing. You close the door of the on-call room behind you and you breathe a sigh of relief. You hope no one saw you go in there.

How did this happen? How did you let your life get so out of control? You used to think of yourself as a good person. You used to have standards and morals, but that all changed when you met him. He threw you're life in a tailspin, and now you're just stuck.

The night of prom you went home with Finn. Derek went home with his wife. It was the right thing to do, but since when are you concerned with doing the right thing? You went home with Finn because he's safe. You went home with Finn because he would never hurt you. You're dating Finn because you don't want to be by yourself at night when he's home with his wife. You're fucking Finn over, and you know it.

Every night you come home to Finn. He's always up waiting for you. Usually he's cooked you something to eat. He pretends not to notice how scary and damaged you are. He pretends not to notice you don't really care about him. He's a good pretender. You lay next to him at night. You always have trouble sleeping at night. You're back is turned to him. You pray he doesn't touch you. You still haven't fucked Finn. One night you felt badly, so you went down on him, like you were still in high school.

It's different with him. You know you can never have him. He's so far, but he's so close. He makes you feel real. He makes you feel alive. Jesus Christ, you feel more real than you have in a long while when he simply looks at you. You have to have in anyway you can.

You don't have him at all. You never have. You belong to him. He's using you. He's made you his. You're not the one in control. The first night in the exam room was unplanned. The second time you did it out of desperation. You just wanted to feel something, anything. You swore you would never become a man's mistress. You swore you were better than that. Slowly you're realizing that you aren't.

You know that Addison knows. She's only pretending that she doesn't. She's working in the next room as he's fucking you and scream his name as you come. Sometimes you wish that you could scream so loud that she would have no choice but to catch you. She would have to stop pretending. She would have to leave him. You wish she would just leave him.

There's something about the secrecy that turns you on. Your cries have to be muffled. No visible marks above the collarbone. You like to leave little red marks on his chest. It's like marking something that isn't yours. He pays you back by fucking you as hard as he can. He doesn't know you like it that way.

Is it love? You don't know anymore. Right about now if you had to describe it you would say raging, emotional passion. You know it's wrong when you're with him, but you feel right.

You close the door behind you. You're back for more. You always come back for more. He's sitting on the bed. Waiting. You don't say anything you take off your top and throw it to the floor. You turn off your phone and drop it to the floor. It hits the cold tile with a loud crash. You don't care.

He gets up from the bed, and pulls your body into his. He kisses you furiously. He pulls the string that's holding up your pants. They fall to the floor. You step out of them. Never breaking the kiss. He pulls your hair and pulls you head back and kisses your neck. You love it when he does that. He then enters you. Fast. Hard. There's nothing sweet or innocent about what your doing.

He screams "you fucking whore" as he comes inside of you, and that's what you are.

You are Derek Shepherd's whore, and you're okay with that. You have to be. What other choice do you have?