Title: I Forget
Genre: Twisted angsty romance? Sort of?
Rating: M
Pairing: Emily/Sam
Words: 500 even!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Prompt: "I don't need to be saved."
AN: Yes, three drabbles this week! I liked the prompt ;)
This is the same Sam from the Leah/Sam drabble Surrender (chapter 18 here). It's Emily's perspective. Told y'all I'm in a mood this week…
~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~
I Forget
Your kiss is tender, your words so sweet. You move above me, inside me, and my body answers each plea with joyous submission. And I forget.
With each healing stroke and each silken whisper, I forget. I forget the endless days of pain, and anger, and, even worse, the apathy.
I forget the cold, cold nights when every quilt in the house won't keep me warm. I forget the furious accusations of a resentful, angry lover. I forget.
I forget my cousin, my sister, my best friend. I forget her tears and screams and sharp nails raking down my arms. I forget her hopeless sobs as we walk away, together.
I forget that you loved her first, that you love her still, that you love her more. I forget that you take her side, you take her hand, you take her body. I forget that I will never be enough.
Your lips caress my skin with traitorous affection. You kiss my scars, the scars you gave me, and some part of me knows you are glad they are there. You are pleased with the permanent marks of your anger.
Your hand drifts down my body to squeeze my breast. Heat floods through me at your touch, and I am helpless in your arms.
I writhe in ecstasy as you thrust unceasing into this body you own. The spirits decreed that I am yours, but you are not mine. Not only mine.
All of that is pushed aside when you grasp me tightly, pulling me closer and closer as the urgency builds. It rushes between us, through us, rolling to a crescendo that has me screaming your name as I plunge over the edge.
Your weight presses me down for just a few seconds more, and then it's over. It's all over. You've had your fun, you've gotten your dues, and now you'll leave again.
You turn your back as you roll to your feet, never once looking down at my tangled hair, my heaving chest, my bruised lips. "I've got patrol," is all you say as you walk away.
My eyes drift shut in exhaustion as my mind replays the past minutes. You are so good to me, when you want to be, that I forget. I begin to hope, to wonder, to wish. I begin to believe that I don't need to be saved.
A howl rings out through the still of the night and another soon answers. My heart speeds up, then slows in resignation. I remember. I remember that voice, that voice that will always come between us. Her voice, speaking to you as no other woman can.
I feel a tear drip down my face, knowing you left here to see her. I stand up and walk to the shower to wash away the feel of your hands on my skin, and the bile of your betrayal from my mouth.
In the end, it doesn't matter. The next time you come for me, I will forget.