Title: Fight or Flight
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.
Summary: Oneshot Trory. Never pretty. Never happy. Always hot.
Reviews are appreciated.
He slumped into his huge black leather armchair across the elaborate penthouse view of the sleeping city. He closed his eyes sighing attempting to block out the pulsating pain inside his head that would foreshadow tomorrow's massive hangover.
Right now he was still drunk.
He frowned wondering about where the headache came from if he was still drunk. He didn't remember banging his head anywhere.
He did remember causing a scene, he also remembered Rory's ethereal blue eyes trying to kill him with her stare and the creme de la creme of New York whispering scandalously as he stumbled out of the soiree just half an hour ago.
He didn't really know why he had done it. Somehow standing there, watching as she stood calmly next to her husband who was greeting shareholders with an annoying grin had made him want to snap. Made him want to down drinks, one after another until making a scene seemed like an incredibly smart idea.
He closed his eyes as he recalled walking up to her through the crowd. She'd noticed him and probably his state as well. He could tell by the color of her eyes.
She had a different color for everything. A color for calmness, a color for rage, a color for arousal, one for happiness. Although he'd rarely seen that one.
She had a warning color too. One that any sane person would read in a heartbeat, that would make anyone reconsider his next move.
Anyone who wasn't stone drunk and stupidly jealous.
He didn't know what the last straw was. The thing that made him lose it.
He narrowed his eyes staring at a skyscraper. Come to think of it, he did know.
It was her husband touching her, ever so lightly. As he made a joke to one of the vice presidents. As he stood there proud and gleaming, stroking his trophy wife.
That had been the moment that made Tristan snap. He walked over and pulled Rory over to the dance floor, leaving her husband staring after them stunned.
Now, sitting in his apartment, he recalled the whole scene with surprising precision. He suddenly remembered her scent, her nervous whispering as she ordered him, then begged him not to cause a scene.
He had pulled her close despite her resisting and danced with her body close to his, his hands wandering on her back like he owned her, really and truly, not just for a couple of stolen hours every now and then.
He remembered everything, her nervous demeanour, her uneasy glances, her furious blushes as she closed her eyes. As if she were saying a silent prayer to be somewhere else, anywhere else.
And then there was her husband, tugging at his hand, not quite harsh enough for him to be intimidated, but strong enough for him to want to shake it off and punch the sucker in the face. That's when Rory had stopped him and given him the stare. All she said was 'Enough'.
One simple, heartbreaking word. And that stare.
The one that seemed to make his determination melt into nothing, the one that could bring despair, he thought, to anyone with any trace of feelings left inside them.
He turned around and left them standing there as he made his way towards the exit, the stunned crowd parting in front of him like the sea.
'I am the Moses of society functions' he thought snickering, but groaned immediately as the throbbing pain returned.
He sighed again, letting the cool leather comfort him. He looked at his wristwatch and concluded she would be here any minute now. Never the one to let him off the hook with just one of those "I am going to kill you" stares. It was rarely an unfulfilled promise.
He snickered as his head sank back against the chair.
Surely it would be any minute now.
And right as rain, the massive oak door of his apartment slammed open making him wince in pain as he was reminded of the throbbing headache.
"Right on time" he murmured, without opening his eyes.
He listened to the door being slammed shut and the usually feather light but right now enraged and stumping footsteps approaching him.
"What the hell where you thinking?" she screamed as she came to stand in front of him, blocking the view to the solemn skyscrapers.
He opened his mouth as if he were contemplating an answer, but it was futile to do anything, he was already expecting her angry rant to start.
"I can't believe you did that! I've always known you were a jerk Tristan, but this has got to top all of your stupid stunts. What makes you think you can just waltz in there and cause a scene?" she screamed and he slowly opened his eyes focusing on her form.
She was still in her black dinner dress, her decolletage dangerously low, and the rest of her dress hugging her curves, her hair dishevelled but still beautifully flowing in loose curls, her eyes sparkling and determined.
"That was an important evening" she went on "you had no right to go there and embarrass me in your drunken stupor"
Everyone knows" came his cool reply, the words escaping his mouth like a conviction.
She took a sharp intake of breath, not surprised by the content of the sentence but rather the way it was said.
Her face fell and for a moment she stared out towards the city, perhaps trying to tell herself she didn't care the whole town talked about her messed up life.
"You still had no right" she said, her voice now quiet, hurt.
"Was he disappointed his clients were distracted?" he asked quietly, his voice stinging and cruel.
She looked at him again stunned, her face hardening.
"You are an asshole" she whispered.
"That's it, isn't it? I bet he was pissed that his business soiree didn't go perfectly" he said studying her face as she looked away angrily.
He got up from his armchair, like a hunter stalking his prey, gone wild at the first smell of the blood of the wounded, suddenly sure on his feet that seemed to be stumbling up till now.
"He wasn't disappointed because it was once again made clear to him he cannot make you happy, he was disappointed because his perfect evening was ruined" he went on inching his way closer to her.
She looked away, scanning the apartment as if trying to distract herself. She focused on his jacket tossed carelessly on the floor and walked towards it picking it up.
"You are drunk, I am not even talking to you" she murmured.
"He wasn't pissed because I am the one you come running to when you feel like you are miserable, he was pissed that he can't go on pretending to the world he's got the perfect marriage" he went on, his voice becoming feverish.
"Shut up, Tristan" she snapped as she turned back to look at him, her eyes once again ready to kill him.
He stumbled back a step, seeing her determination, her anger. Her pain. Her beautiful blue eyes weary and tired, as if that young glow had been slowly extinguished from them by years and years of cruel reality.
He sneered and sat down on the sofa watching as she smoothed out his jacket placing it on the hanger by the door.
"What are you still doing there Rory?" he asked quietly, his voice suddenly vulnerable "Why are you still with him?"
"You know why" she replied, not looking at him.
"No I don't" he protested stubbornly.
"Because I have children, Tristan. And an obligation. And a life"
"What kind of a life is that? The one you want to constantly run away from" he murmured staring at a spot on the carpet.
"Tristan, please" she sighed again, her voice exhausted as she rubbed her eyes.
"I don't understand how you can live while you are so miserable, Rory, why can't you just..."
"Enough, Tristan. We aren't 15 anymore. Things aren't so simple" she broke him off, her voice raising and once again angry.
"You're in love with me" he said.
A fit of laughter broke from her lips.
"In love? With you?" she sneered "You are cruel and mean and no better than him. You don't want me to be happy, you just want to own me. To show him you've won" she said narrowing her eyes, her words quiet and exhausted.
"Don't say that" he whispered.
"Why else would you do this?" she asked sighing exhausted "What reason would you have to come there and act like you did?"
He suddenly felt ashamed.
"You know the deal, you know how it works, you accepted it" she said, her voice turning pleading.
"I had no other choice" he broke her off.
"You accepted nevertheless" she shot back, raising her voice again.
"So I should be happy having you once a week?" he stood up, once again emotional "I should be satisfied by fucking you every once in a while when you feel like it? When you have some down time between playing the society wife and mother and career woman?"
"God how I hate when you are drunk" she rubbed her eyes, trying to ignore his angry rant "You get so profane"
He scoffed at that knowing exactly she didn't mind the profanities. On contrary.
"Don't be so hypocritical" he sneered and she shot him a look.
"Isn't that what you come here for?" he asked, his voice once again offensive as he stood up and stepped closer, his hands grabbing her waist as she tried to resist.
"Isn't that what you came here for tonight?" he lowered his voice, lust suddenly taking a hold of him.
"I came here to tell you what a huge ass you are" she protested, once again looking him in the eye.
"You came here because this is the only place where you feel alive" he said, his voice dropping to an angry murmur as he pulled her closer, breathing in her smell "you came here because I am the only one that brings any passion into your life. You came here because you were fucking turned on by my scene, and you are even more turned on by my profanities" he smirked, his eyes cruel and cold.
"You are delusional" she said pushing him away "And I am leaving" she said turning her back to him and walking towards the door.
He stared for only a second before walking after her, his long steps making it easy for him to catch up to her just as she was about to open the front door. He stopped her by placing his arm against the door, making her gasp slightly. She spun around, her breathing quickening.
He stared at her, his blue eyes focusing on her mouth, parted ever so slightly. For a loose second he realized that mouth was his downfall. Those perfectly light, smooth, pink lips, those subtle lines. They would be the death of him.
His whole demeanour calmed as he watched her pant frustrated only inches away from him. Her brows furrowed, her eyes troubled, her whole expression frustrated, looking everywhere but him.
A slight smile crossed his face. "Let it go, Rory" he whispered, his smirk growing.
Her eyes snapped up, boring into his, a questioning expression on her face.
"Give up the fucking charade" he went on, his voice cruel "and just tell me what you came for"
Her anger boiling over, she tried to push him away turning to open the door once again, but he held her firmly against the door.
"Just say it" he spat through gritted teeth, feeling his own arousal growing by the second, his lust clouding over his brain. He concentrated on her mouth, wetting his own with his tongue unconsciously.
"I'm leaving" she said again, her voice not coming out as determined as she probably would have liked and he smirked again.
"You're not" he said simply, before he slammed against her, kissing her passionately, pushing her up against the door. She resisted for a moment, then gave in, granting him entrance and he groaned as his tongue slid inside her mouth.
His body came alive, all his nerve endings firing up, as though he had finally arrived home after a horribly long journey. As though her touch, the feel of her skin could sooth his troubled body.
He groaned again, tugging her closer and she whimpered feeling his force.
And suddenly all conscious thought was gone. There was only her, her sweet scent filling his nostrils, her wonderfully soft curls washing over him, her smooth skin warm against his own.
He felt himself go painfully hard and he forced her dress up, his hands going to her panties and tugging at them impatiently. She gasped as she heard the material tear and he discarded the article, his hands immediately parting her legs to find her center with his fingers.
He cursed feeling her wetness, the tight wet walls enveloping his fingers and bathing them in their slick juices. Feeling her dripping for him made his breathing even more ragged. He wanted to stretch her out, to dip inside her even deeper, to bury his fingers inside her wonderful wetness. He groaned and for a short second stepped away, never breaking the kiss, in order to undo his belt and push his pants down, relieving some pressure of his massive erection.
He felt actual pain that could only be relieved if he could finally sink himself into her tightness, her wonderful center that always seemed to feel like he was ravaging a virgin. All he could think of was being inside of her, of finally burying himself deep into her, of slamming hard into her without concern.
He pushed her against the door, lifting her slightly off her feet, spreading her legs enough so he could push up against her, his hardness sliding into her wetness as she gasped in surprise. That little moan was proof of how she loved his intensity, how she loved to be taken by force, how she got turned on by being ravaged.
She moaned incoherently, her mouth opening and her eyes fluttering shut as he slowly slid in as far as he could, holding back with every last ounce of self control.
She felt warm and tight and he let out a loud groan, almost unable to breathe. He revelled in the moment, too rare and way to fleeting, motionless and straining for control.
He opened his eyes to see her eyes shut tight, her mouth distorted by the moans she tried to hold inside.
It made him go wild.
"Tell me what you came for Rory" he whispered trying to control his shaking voice, with a poignant thrust of his hips, making her whimper and moan.
He pulled out slowly concentrating on the movement, never taking his eyes off of her.
"Tell me you came for this" he said with another thrust. He let out a shaky breath as he tried to keep his body from pounding away into her.
"Tell me" he whispered as he went on with another deep thrust, then slowly continuing with another, setting a steady rhythm, eliciting moans from her.
"Tell me you came because you can't stop thinking about me inside you" he went on, his voice getting more feverish with his pace quickening, his heart seemingly beating in his throat.
"About my dick ravaging you" he went on, not being able to hold in the profanities anymore, as they seemed to surface without him being able to stop them. As if with the words he could fuck her mind too, fuck her in every way humanly possible. He whispered in her ear, her answers only incoherent moans, forcing out the words as her whimpering became more frequent.
His own eyes fluttered shut, the sensation of her wetness clamping around him taking a hold of his body.
"Say it" he forced out the words between thrusts, his movements getting more and more violent.
She moaned in return, incoherent words coming out of her mouth, her head falling back against the door, her hands desperately clinging to his shoulders, as his violent thrusts seemed to bring her closer and closer to her edge.
He could feel her coming close, her moans becoming short and high-pitched, the deep burn slowly starting inside his abdomen signaling his own coming release.
"Tell me you came here, because no one fucks you like I do" he moaned, feeling so close that his last ounce of control had disappeared, his thrusts fast and hard.
"...because he doesn't fuck you like I do" he whispered.
Her eyes snapped open as she pushed him away suddenly, taking him by surprise. He fell back on the floor with blurred vision, his mind not completely registering what just happened.
He forced his eyes open through the haze, his hardness feeling painfully unrelieved as he stared up at her, her breathing fast, her face sweaty, her hair damp and her eyes angry and determined.
"You...are...fucking crazy" she spat out trying to catch her breath as she angrily pulled her dress down and opened the door turning to walk out and slamming it shut behind her.
His head fell back on the ground, his mouth groaning her name, his eyes closing in frustration as he scoffed, trying to regain control over his raging body.
He steadied his laboured breathing squeezing his eyes shut, trying in vain to get some clarity through the alcohol and lust clouding his brain. He cursed as he felt the incredible need inside of him, having come so close to the edge.
His erection felt like one throbbing pain between his legs, aching to be relieved, to be inside of her, to cum into her.
He groaned frustrated as his hand moved to finish what she had denied him, the alcohol clouding his brain once again.
His hand clamped around himself, trying to squeeze hard enough so he could resemble the feeling of her walls around him. His hand moved up and down slowly first, then faster and faster, squeezing his hardness, his own skin feeling painfully rough after her smooth touch.
His face becoming hard, he squeezed his eyes tighter, biting on his lips to keep himself from screaming as he approached his edge. He felt his body go numb and he couldn't push her startlingly blue eyes out of his mind as he came into his own hand, his moans echoing in the empty apartment.