He wasn't sure when he decided to fuck her, or why. Perhaps it seemed like the best way to shut her up, but if so, he had to admit it failed.
Oh, beyond the obvious way – and she was very good at that, really she was, and if he'd kept his fingers in her hair in case she bit too hard, too often, it wasn't long before his grip had slackened and his thumb moved slowly across the shallow curve where the back of her neck became her skull. Such a vulnerable joining, that, where bone can snap and skin can tear and the body be left a shell, bled-dry or brain-dead – beyond that, there were still moments when he'd silenced her -
But not many. Even as he'd kissed her, her lips seemed to move, not to return the kiss, but to shape words he didn't want to hear, until he'd abandoned habit and stopped pretending there was anything he wanted from that mouth that she hadn't already given him, not two steps in from the door, when he'd pushed her to her knees and leaned back, the wall cool against his shoulders.
He'd used her mouth to come in with a lack of consideration that sobered him more than the moment he'd found his hand clasped around her throat and couldn't remember deciding to move.
Odd to feel the guilt of discourtesy over that final too-deep jerk of his hips that filled her eyes with tears he was fairly certain he'd never get to see shed for any reason other than the purely physical reaction to choking. Even odder to have that slightly apologetic kiss, on her wet-damp lips, be the last he'd given her and the only time he'd felt any kind of response from her that wasn't planned and orchestrated. Because her mouth had trembled, just a little – hadn't it?
Return to Home