This contains a lot of cursing, sorry but it is anger!
This leads on immediately after the events of Lust. I'm not entirely sure I captured the sin entirely but I'm quite happy with this.
Next up is Envy, which might be connected to Lust and Wrath...We'll see :)
Anyway, enjoy and sorry for the huge delay in writing. This college project is taking up most of my available time.

Wrath

Inappropriate feelings of hatred, revenge or even denial, as well as punitive desires outside of justice

"What the hell happened last night, Vince?" The words echo in his mind as he tries to gather his thoughts and string them into a reasonable explanation. Nothing comes straight away, only one thing which he mutters under his breath while fumbling with the sheets between his fingers.
"We were drunk."

Calm.
Both are equally calm if a little shocked.
A little shaken.
Maybe still slightly drunk.
Neither can be certain.

"Tell me we didn't." He almost whispers it back at Vince wanting no one else to hear of their drunken night together. Vince turns and looks into his eyes with his own deep blue ones.

Blue eyes.
Full of guilt.
Full of passion, a burning desire for more sex.

"We did." He states while biting his lip, he runs his tongue over his dry lips then squashes the flesh of his bottom lip between his white teeth once again.

Soft lips.
A tongue with a desire for another kiss.
A taste for sex.

"Oh no..." He manages to mutter while clutching at his head making Vince realise his faint headache has grown.

His head.
Pain pounds at the front of his brain.
Smashing through the skull.
Trying to split his head in two.
Hangover.

"Why did I let you take me out!" He panics making Vince jump slightly, the younger man's neutral face creases into a deep frown making his beautiful features appear dark and angry.
"Me? So this is my fault now!"

Boiling.
Anger swims inside their stomachs.
Laughing.
Taunting.
Begging for them to yell at each other.
It wants to be set free.

"Yes! It's always your bloody fault! You're so...So..."
"So what? Go on Howard. Say it, say whatever you were gonna say!" Vince sits up away from the headboard, the quilt still wrapped over the bottom half of his body, he watches as Howard gets up and gets dressed hurriedly ignoring Vince "Say it for fuck sake!"

Boiling point.
Screaming begins.
Shredding the throat.
Piercing the silence of the flat.
The quiet of the street is shattered.
Cheeks redden.
Words increase in volume.
They become deadly and abusive.
Poison.

"You are addicted to sex." He says it quickly and bluntly without emotion "You go out, get drunk and shag whatever you fucking can! As long as it has a pulse, you'll fuck it. You don't care as long as you get some satisfaction. You are shallow!" He takes a deep breath "I may not be able to remember much of last night but I fucking regret it!"
"You can't regret what you can't remember!" Vince spits back, furious at what his friend had said.
"Don't try and get the upper hand here, Vince. You need to grow the fuck up!" Howard moves closer to the younger man's face with a threatening expression "Grow up and save yourself before its too late."

The anger becomes too much.
It spills over board.
Bubbles through his veins.
Reaches his hands and clenches them into fists.
His lungs inhale precious air deeply.
His heart pounds furiously in his chest.

"I didn't plan on shagging you y'know!" He yells, his voice wavers painfully with anger making it slightly higher than usual.
"Oh so you were gonna target a drunk defenceless woman and fuck her instead?"
"Why are you making me out to sound like some serial murderer?" Howard shakes his head while doing up his trousers, he leaves the room quickly.
"You're pathetic, Vince."
"Oh just fuck off! You've never thought any better of me!" He reaches for an object; anything, then launches it before knowing what he had thrown.

Smash.
The lamp breaks into pieces against the door.
Shards litter the floor threatening to slice anything in their path.
He yells.
Curses.
Screams.
Breaks down.

He throws the cover off his naked body and pulls on some boxers and clean jeans, sharp pieces from his broken lamp cut into his feet. His anger rises as the blood dribbles onto the carpet; he looses his temper, throws whatever he can and smashes anything breakable. He stops in front of the mirror and stares at himself.

Panting for breath.
Tears of anger well in his eyes.
His reflection glares back angrily.
His fists clench.
He edges closer.
His breath hot on the reflective surface.
One swift flash of his arm.
Smash.
His fist connects with the mirror.
Cracks develop, grow and spread from his knuckles.
His heart pounds.
His chest feels weak.
His hands shake and tremble.
Blood fills the black cracks in the mirror.
Creating a spiderweb of red.

Vince breathes hard and fast, his hand still stuck to the mirror, his fist the epicentre of the smash trembles violently causing a few pieces of glass to fall out and rain down on the carpet.
Slowly he pulls back his hand, the mirror crunches, his face drops to an expression of pain and blood gushes from his knuckles. He gazes at his hand seeing his reflection in tiny shards of the mirror stuck in his flesh, he flexes his fingers sending pain shooting up his arm.
He glances at the broken mirror; parts of his reflection are missing making his face appear cracked and uneven.

Broken.
He feels broken.
The anger defeats him.
He comes down from his deadly high.
Clutches his throbbing hand.
Pants with rage at the mirror.
Cursing his friend.
Cursing his destructive ways.
Cursing his addiction to sex.
Cursing himself.