AN: This is dark. And kind of violent. And definitely M. You've been warned.


Cold concrete floor under her feet and back, cold muscled body under, her inside her. He's dispelling harsh snorts of breath, and she remembers to breath in between his gasps. The bruises he left on her thighs, and the bite marks on her breasts, and the scratches that criss-cross her back are pulsing in time with his movements and they all combine to remind her that she can hurt and bleed and sting and ache. That she can feel the way the living do.

He draws nearly all the way out and her feet push into the floor, her hips following his. Hurt me, punish me, more, more, more, MORE.

Hands like ice find her back, run along her spine and it feels so baddirtywrong good, she arches all the way up off the floor. The hands trace down, down, down until they find purchase and hold her there, and then he's invading her space all over again.

Oh god, oh god, he's on his knees and she's bent double in front of him, neck and shoulders scraping the concrete and she may be speaking in tongues but no one prays like this, and it's all too much. Her hand flies out, digs into the unyielding floor, she feels a nail snap. He jerks as the scent of fresh blood hits the air, dark eyes clap on hers full of lust and something else that she can't abide so she clenches, traps him deep and squeezes harder, harder, harder, smears her blood across his lip, drags her nails down until she feels his chest tear open. Harder, harder, harder until he's shaking, and the black of his pupils swallows all the blue.

She lets go and they collapse. Blood and sweat sting her until his tongue finds her chest and licks it all away and when she can't stand to look at him she turns her head. There's a chair within arms length and she considers breaking it. Wait until he reaches the highest he can go and make sure he never comes down. She could do it. Plunge wood into his heart. Grab his head and twist, twist, twist. Better yet, force his face between her thighs and make sure he never gets to leave.

She pictures it. The man above her reduced to nothing but ash, coating her, sticking to the sweat and blood and fluid that already coats her body.

She comes.