her skin was tight with dehydration, pulled thin and taut and shiny over her bones, which jutted out at awkward angles from everywhere, all over her body. the white gossamer gown exaggerated how much weight she had lost, settled into the gap between her narrow thighs, sank into her concave abdomen. it was hard to believe it’d only been a couple of months since i’d seen her last. she’d been healthy and round then - maybe too much so, still fighting off that baby weight.
her head rolled around listlessly. her hair was dry and thin, her exposed scalp covered in sores, some of them oozing a thick black fluid, others scabbed over. her lips were cracked and white. from deep in their heavy lidded sockets her black eyes floated over my face as if trying to place me, but unable. i reached over and took her small hand in mine. her knobby knuckles pressed painfully into the pads of my fingers.
suddenly she lunged at me, thrashing wildly, struggling against the restraints of her hospital bed. i cried out in spite of myself and jerked my arm free, as she was digging her brittle nails into my wrist. she screamed at me, or at least she let out what would have been a scream had she still been capable of it. it was more like a strangled groan, but high pitched. terrifying. she was no longer in a stupor, she was aware and intent: focused on me. her back bucked violently over the bed, the tendons in her limbs flexing. i knocked over my chair backing away, unsure what to do. i thought she’d break free, but then she stilled herself as immediately as she’d gone into her frenzy. turning her head the other way, she laid back, moaning softly.
the doctor stepped in from the shadows of the doorway, a grim look on his handsome but worn face. “i’m sorry,” he said through clenched teeth.
i wiped my tears quickly and sniffed loudly, trying to steady my voice before i opened my mouth. “what now?” i asked.
he sighed and looked up at the flickering light. reaching with the clipboard he’d been clutching to his chest he tapped the casing which only made it worse. he sucked his teeth in annoyance, then held the clipboard out to me. “now that you’ve seen her, and her condition, you just need to sign the recognition form and we’ll be able to put her down.” he pulled a pen from his coat pocket and clicked it open.
i’m starving. not sure why, i just ate lunch a few hours ago. i’m standing in front of the open refrigerator, mouth twisted up in concentration. i decide on a green apple but before i can get it he smacks me on the ass. hard. i turn around and frown at him, unconvincingly - i love it when he does that and he knows it.
“why are you wearing so many fucking clothes” he asks, grabbing me roughly by the forearm and pulling my body into his. i’m only wearing black hipsters. he slides his hands up my sides, palms as much of my tits as he can. “more than a handful” he smirks, like he does every time, leaning down to flick his tongue over one nipple, then the other.
“you’re wearing more clothes than i am” i reply. i yank down his boxers mid thigh. kiss his chest. drop to my knees. wet my lips, open wide, take him as far into my mouth as i can. he’s pushing past my uvula before the tip of my nose comes anywhere near his pelvis. i start a rhythm; he groans, pulls off his t-shirt. he gathers my hair in one hand and guides me the way he wants me. controls me, gently.
i’m looking up at him, lips puckered, sliding over him; he’s smiling, he loves that. doe eyes, he calls mine, much too innocent for such an incredibly licentious woman. he’s telling me he’s going to come and i force him down my throat to a point that would gag the average. swallow down what he shoots. warm, salty, lush. his dick is throbbing against my tongue, his body is shuddering and twitching, the veins at the bottom of his abdomen are flexing. his groans soften into a simple whimper, then a satisfied sigh.
i stand back up, laugh at how exhausted he seems. “i love you,” he says, “and not just because you give great head.” he kisses me. “you love me because i love giving you head” i tell him. he quirks an eyebrow and before i realize what’s happening he’s tearing my panties down to my ankles, lifting me onto the cold granite counter top and lapping at my clit like there’s no tomorrow. and i love you because you love giving me head too i think. i would say it out loud, but i can’t get anything but moans to come.
‘ello, maggie!
i’m squirming. i’m trying not to, but it’s involuntarily.
he forces his hand between her legs; i cross and uncross my own. he chews his gum, ask her if she likes it hard; i clench my thighs together. cross them again. he pulls her by her hair from the bath, throws her into the hall; my heart is beating so fast i think it’s going to explode.
out of my peripheral vision i see him look at me. i realize i’m licking the inside of my upper lip, draw my tongue back into my mouth and close it.
“are you serious?”
i look at him, feigning a puzzled look. he’s not fooled. we continue watching for a bit longer. he sucks his teeth in annoyance and pauses the television, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. it clangs and slides to the floor.
“he raped her!” he says, exasperated, turning his body towards me.
“it’s not about that,” i reply softly, and he sucks his teeth again, this time in disbelief. “it’s not about that” i repeat.
“i know you think dude is hot, but damn” he sighs.
“it’s not about the rape. it’s not even really about tom hardy,” i tell him, leaning back into the cushions of the couch, “even if she’d been a willing participant i would have found it just as hot.”
“oh,” he says, rubbing his mouth, “i know that.” he’s so jealous of my infatuation with that thick lipped Brit.
“forget it,” i tell him. i stand up and walk to the kitchen. he doesn’t follow me.
he’s so nice. he’s so nice, all the time, day and night. in and out of bed. so. fucking. nice. he could never even imagine treating me the way freddie treated maggie in that scene. there’s no use trying to explain it, he won’t understand. it would only confuse him to try to tell him why i liked it, make him feel inferior if i told him i wanted it. roughing me up is not something he’s capable of and i appreciate that about him. i won’t ask for it, but it doesn’t mean i won’t fantasize about getting it. from tom hardy.
a girl wants what a girl wants, after all…
tyler durden; getting laid
he pulls the collar of my shirt down, exposing my shoulder. tilts my head, bites my neck, flicks his tongue lightly over me. leaning back, hips still tilted forward into my stomach, he traces his fingertips over the words needled into the thin skin across my clavicle.
“what’s this say?” he asks softly.
“only after disaster can we be resurrected.” i answer and he looks down, eyes scattering from side to side in thought. he mutters that it sounds familiar.
“it’s a line from Fight Club,” i say, “the book, not the film.”
he nods in recognition. “it’s only after you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do anything.” i nod in response. i want to fuck him even more now.
i stand on my tiptoes, lift my chin, catch his pillowy lips between my own. the stubble on his chin hurts. i love it. i grab the front of his jeans; he sucks in air sharply, holds me tighter. my tits flatten against his abdomen, he slides one hand down to squeeze my ass, the other into the front of my underwear. his fingers find the wetness, i feel him smile against me.
“i love that book.” he says into my mouth, tongue still twisting around mine. i moan, weakly.
he turned the knob slowly, pushing the door open slightly, allowing just a narrow ribbon of light to pierce the darkness of their bedroom. she was completely consumed in the covers, only her long black hair fanned across the pillow exposed. he slid into the room, folding his lips together as he concentrated on closing the door silently behind him.
feeling his way through the dark, he sat on the trunk at the foot of their bed, laying his suit jacket beside him. he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie with one hand, sighing, rubbing his eyes, trying to speed their adjustment to the night. he leaned down to remove his shoes and felt a warm touch running up his spine over his shirt. he reached back, felt her soft foot. he grabbed her big toe, wiggled it gently and she snickered. she threw the duvet from her body as she lifted her arms into a wide stretch, yawning quietly.
he stood, turned around, continued unbuttoning his shirt. she climbed towards him on her knees, he moved to the side of the bed in front of her. she ran her fingers over his undershirt and tugged on the collar gently, pulling him down. they kissed, and he moved his hands from his shirt to her waist, lifting the thin fabric of her top up slightly so that he could feel her skin.
he loved her skin.
