Ruin
Title: Ruin
Author: biggerbeans
Characters: Molly/Max Grossman/Matt
Rating: R for mature themes.
Notes: This fic definitely delves into the dark!fic areas and deals with issues that some people may take offense to. So read at your own risk. boudecia7 was my patient and wonderful beta for this fic.
"Don't wait up for me," Molly said as she secured a small hoop earring to her left lobe. She plumped out her lips and smeared them with a light pink gloss that made them look moist and supple.
Matt, leaning against the doorframe of her room, smirked. "I won't wait up for you if you're home by eight thirty."
"It's eight o'clock now," Molly replied.
"I know." Another smirk.
"Don't be a dork, Matt," Molly said affectionately and brushed some makeup onto her eyelids. "The movie ends at eleven and then we'll probably go out for pizza after, okay?"
"Fine, nine o'clock it is."
Finished with her face, Molly took a step back from the mirror and examined her outfit, turning her shoulders this way and that, trying to find any wrinkle or crinkle that would ruin her figure. Her skirt made her butt look perky and cute and her blouse gave her modest cleavage a little boost. Feeling like a woman, she turned to face Matt. "How do I look?" To her surprise, Matt suddenly looked less than enthused. His eyes were soft and loving, but there was a sad curl to his lips. It was like he was recognizing the loss of something that he loved.
"You look beautiful, sweetheart."
"What's the matter? Did I use too much make up?"
"No, no. Nothing like that. You just grew up too quickly, is all."
"Matt, it's just a date. And a first date, too! It's not like I'm getting married off or anything."
"Still."
Molly stepped gingerly towards him, smiling at the big dork for always being so sentimental and mushy. She was becoming a woman and he just needed to deal with it. Despite going through a period where she had grown like a weed, Molly still had to stand on her tip toes to kiss Matt's cheek. "Seriously," she whispered into his ear, "don't wait up for me."
"Just be safe," Matt replied and kissed her hairline. "You know how I like to worry."
"Yes I do. Now goodbye." Molly scooted past Matt and hurried out of the apartment before that longing look in his eyes convinced her to stay. The moment she stepped out of the door, however, the butterflies that had been resting quietly in her stomach suddenly came to life, fluttering around and causing general mayhem. She had waited ten long years for a date with Max Grossman and now it was only half of an hour away.
Ever since that fateful day in Miss Gerber's class when Max had tried to kiss her, Molly had been hooked. There had always been a tension between them, a look here and a smile there, but neither of them had acted on that tension, afraid that if they were to go near it, it would run away and disappear forever. They had classes together in high school, but always sat apart, preferring to look at each other rather than speak. Max had been the first to test the waters when he had asked her for a dance at a school function. She'd said she would with as much disinterest as possible but was so nervous that she plodded on his feet more than once. They sat closer in classes after that, but still didn't bother to talk. Max had started to date Yuri Chu for a while, but he'd always had eyes for Molly. Likewise, Molly had went on a few dates with other boys, but always thought of Max when they kissed.
Max had ended up going to a University in Connecticut while Molly stayed in New York. The first year of University had been such a whirlwind of excitement that Molly had forgotten all about Max. She'd dated a couple studly college boys, embarrassingly losing her virginity to a guy named Sven, but had never felt the butterflies like she did when she saw Max looking at her looking at him back in high school. A few days before final exams were over, Molly had gotten an e-mail from Max. He was coming back to New York for the summer and was wondering if she would, maybe, if she had the time, want to meet up with him, although he would totally understand if she didn't want to. Her heart had nearly leapt out of her throat. She'd said she would love to, of course, and to call her the minute he got back to New York. He'd called about fifteen minutes before he got in, actually, and they'd set up a date.
And so Molly found herself waiting outside the movie theater in her simple but sexy outfit and tried not to turn into jelly. She was early, way early, but apparently so was he. He was slender but meaty, his hair gelled a thousand different ways, his excited eyes betraying his cautious smile. He walked straight over to her, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"Molly...how are you?"
"Max... hi!" She could feel herself blushing, and that wouldn't do, so she forced herself to relax.
"You're here early."
"Yeah. So are you."
"I didn't want to miss you."
"Yeah....me either."
He smiled at her and she smiled back and the frenzied butterflies suddenly calmed. They were still flying, but it was more like a glide on a happy summer day. They went inside, bought their tickets and sat in the almost-empty theater, talking earnestly about everything but what this date meant. When the lights dimmed, they fell silent and turned towards the screen. The movie was cheesy, as was the pizza they had afterwards, but Max ended up holding her hand through most of it, so she already deemed this date a success.
After their pizza they ended up walked through Central Park, reminiscing about high school. They talked about boring teachers and stupid assignments, school dances and promiscuous girls.
"Remember that time in Biology when Ms. Bloom couldn't spell meiosis?"
"Oh yeah! That was hilarious!" Molly chirped, her face lighting with the memory.
"I, uh...I really liked you back then," he said and even in the dark Molly could tell he was blushing.
"Yeah, me too," she replied and linked her hand with his. And then the moment felt right. She leaned forward and stared at his face, eyes, nose, lips. The butterflies were bursting through her stomach and ravaging the rest of her body. She pursed her lips, closed her eyes...and met air. The butterflies stopped mid-flight, turned into iron and crashed. She opened her eyes. Max was staring at her, his eyes light and playful, his smile mischievous.
"I want to show you something. Back at my place," he said, squeezing her hand tightly.
"Oh...o-okay," she said, too stunned by the spectacular failure of their first kiss to fully comprehend what he was saying. He stood up and she followed, her hand still linked with his., as he led her out of Central Park and the few blocks to his house.
"It's really cool, you're going to love it," he kept saying to her. Reassured, the butterflies took flight again. Before she knew it they were climbing the steps of his front porch. The house was dark and the windows closed. Max unlocked his door and led her upstairs to his room where he rummaged through some drawers before coming up with a thin hardback book. He handed it to her with a smile.
"A...yearbook?" She asked incredulously and began flipping through the pages. Was there a secret message in here? Did he circle her picture with a heart? Why was he showing this to her? "I don't get it," she said, looking up from the yearbook.
In that moment when their eyes met, Max pounced. Forcefully, with the lust of ten years, he pressed his lips against hers, cupping her face in his hands. Molly gave in, she had to, and placed one of her hands behind his head. At first it was messy, all intensity and not enough sensuality, but after a while they settled into something that felt right. Their mouths opened, their tongues swirled, their bodies touched. They moaned into each other's mouths and rubbed against each other as they found their way too the bed.
"That whole yearbook thing," kiss, "was just a ploy", swirl, "to get me here."
"PDA's aren't really my thing."
Molly fell back on the bed and Max leaned over her possessively, kissing her mouth, her chin, her neck, her shoulder, down. Molly gently placed her hands on his head and guided it back to her mouth. Their lips met again and his tongue slid across the back of her teeth. Molly moaned and Max moaned and they rolled over each other. He placed a hand on her breast, which she allowed, even going as far as lifting her chest into his grip. He placed a hand on her thigh, which she allowed. His skin was soft and warm and full of electricity. But when he began to slide his hand up her thigh she broke off the kiss.
"Woah, Max," she said, gently pushing him off of her and sitting up straight. "This is only our first date."
"But it feels right, doesn't it?" he asked, pressing his soft lips against her neck. It did, but when his hand found its way back to her thigh she pushed it off again. She wasn't that kind of girl.
"I think we need to slow down a little, get a glass of water or something."
But Max insisted with his lips, mouthing his way up her shoulder and neck, kissing across her jawline and finding her lips. She couldn't help but give in, it was Max after all, but when she felt that hand on her thigh again she pushed him away. "Okay, I think we need to stop."
But Max didn't want to stop. The hand was back, this time more insistent. "Come on, Molly. I know you want this as badly as I do," he said, laying his other hand on her chest and pushing her back onto the bed. "We've both been thinking of this for a long time. Let's not spoil it now..."
Molly felt his warm tongue against her lips, one of his hands squeezing her breast, the other sliding up her skirt, up, up, up. "Max, stop," she murmured around his lips. Up, up, up. "Stop..." She could feel his full weight on her, pinning her down, one hand on her breast, the other moving up, up, up. "Max..." Up, up up...
Molly slid her key into the lock as silently as she could. She had told Matt not to wait up for her, but now all she wished was that he would be standing on the other side with open arms. But he wasn't there. The apartment was dark and she was alone. She pressed her back against the door and slid down, her chest heaving, her arms shaking, her face stained with tears. She wrapped her arms around her knees and sobbed into her wrists. She felt dirty. She felt dirty and violated and all she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed, but she found she couldn't move. Her body refused to let her move until its anguish was heard. And so she sat there by the door for almost an hour, clutching herself, scolding herself, sobbing silently until her body finally declared 'I've had my say' and the tears stopped. But still she sat, staring into the darkness, her eyes shiny and wide with fright. 'I've had my say,' her body repeated, 'now clean me, I want to be clean.'
Molly stood on unsteady legs and wobbled to the bathroom. She turned the heat up, stepped inside, but the warmth didn't help her. It felt heavy and smothering and just served to reminded her. She turned the heat off and sat down, letting the cold water run over her still clothed body. She wouldn't feel safe naked, not even here. She closed her eyes, but her heart started pounding wildly so she opened them again. The shower wasn't helping, she wasn't getting clean. She would never be clean again. She gave up trying to be clean and decided to go to bed. She turned off the water, stepped out of the tub and shuffled to her room, a river of dripping water following behind. She managed to change into her pajamas and slip under the covers, but got out almost immediately. The bed was uncomfortable and felt unsafe. She grabbed her pillow, curled up on the floor and fell asleep.
***
She could hear Matt clamoring around the kitchen and could smell bacon. She was still on the floor, in the exact same position. 'I'm hungry', her body said, 'I want some food'. So Molly stood up, ignoring her aching thighs, and lurched towards the door. Her head was spinning and she felt like throwing up, but her body was hungry so she opened the door to her room and shuffled towards the kitchen.
"Morning Sunshine!" Matt called as he scooped some scrambled eggs from the pan he was holding onto an awaiting plate. He must have seen the look on her face, because his face fell and he looked sad. "Oh...bad date?"
Molly looked at him blankly for a few seconds, her mouth an emotionless line. "...It wasn't what I expected," she finally answered. "Can I have some eggs?"
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. You were looking forward to this date for so long. What happened?" he asked, setting a plate of food in front of her and taking his place beside.
Molly didn't answer. She just dug into her eggs and ate, shoveling food into her mouth, her body demanding 'more, more, more!'
"What happened?" Matt asked again, forking some eggs into his mouth.
Molly looked up and stared at him, blinking a few times. What did happen?
She wasn't sure if he read her mind or just saw something in her ruined face, but Matt's face suddenly fell, all the joy and humour leaving his cheeks. "Molly," he said, dropping his fork, "tell me what happened." His voice was low and thick with dread.
Molly continued to stare, but this time through tear blurred eyes. Matt reached out a hand and gently touched her wrist, a gesture that he had done a million times before, but she withdrew it with a frightened jerk, the first of a lifetime of tears running down her cheek.
Blood surged in Matt, reddening his face before leaving his skin pale and lifeless.
Molly, unable to watch the horror run through Matt's ruined face, leaned over her eggs and began to sob so violently that her lungs hurt. In a moment she felt Matt's huge, warm body enveloping her, crushing love into her soul. She gripped his shirt, pulled him closer and cried over what Max Grossman had suddenly become to her. She cried over her own violation and sense of betrayal. And now that she was in his arms, she cried because she knew that now, no matter what, Matt could never see her as his perfect little angel again.
Author: biggerbeans
Characters: Molly/Max Grossman/Matt
Rating: R for mature themes.
Notes: This fic definitely delves into the dark!fic areas and deals with issues that some people may take offense to. So read at your own risk. boudecia7 was my patient and wonderful beta for this fic.
"Don't wait up for me," Molly said as she secured a small hoop earring to her left lobe. She plumped out her lips and smeared them with a light pink gloss that made them look moist and supple.
Matt, leaning against the doorframe of her room, smirked. "I won't wait up for you if you're home by eight thirty."
"It's eight o'clock now," Molly replied.
"I know." Another smirk.
"Don't be a dork, Matt," Molly said affectionately and brushed some makeup onto her eyelids. "The movie ends at eleven and then we'll probably go out for pizza after, okay?"
"Fine, nine o'clock it is."
Finished with her face, Molly took a step back from the mirror and examined her outfit, turning her shoulders this way and that, trying to find any wrinkle or crinkle that would ruin her figure. Her skirt made her butt look perky and cute and her blouse gave her modest cleavage a little boost. Feeling like a woman, she turned to face Matt. "How do I look?" To her surprise, Matt suddenly looked less than enthused. His eyes were soft and loving, but there was a sad curl to his lips. It was like he was recognizing the loss of something that he loved.
"You look beautiful, sweetheart."
"What's the matter? Did I use too much make up?"
"No, no. Nothing like that. You just grew up too quickly, is all."
"Matt, it's just a date. And a first date, too! It's not like I'm getting married off or anything."
"Still."
Molly stepped gingerly towards him, smiling at the big dork for always being so sentimental and mushy. She was becoming a woman and he just needed to deal with it. Despite going through a period where she had grown like a weed, Molly still had to stand on her tip toes to kiss Matt's cheek. "Seriously," she whispered into his ear, "don't wait up for me."
"Just be safe," Matt replied and kissed her hairline. "You know how I like to worry."
"Yes I do. Now goodbye." Molly scooted past Matt and hurried out of the apartment before that longing look in his eyes convinced her to stay. The moment she stepped out of the door, however, the butterflies that had been resting quietly in her stomach suddenly came to life, fluttering around and causing general mayhem. She had waited ten long years for a date with Max Grossman and now it was only half of an hour away.
Ever since that fateful day in Miss Gerber's class when Max had tried to kiss her, Molly had been hooked. There had always been a tension between them, a look here and a smile there, but neither of them had acted on that tension, afraid that if they were to go near it, it would run away and disappear forever. They had classes together in high school, but always sat apart, preferring to look at each other rather than speak. Max had been the first to test the waters when he had asked her for a dance at a school function. She'd said she would with as much disinterest as possible but was so nervous that she plodded on his feet more than once. They sat closer in classes after that, but still didn't bother to talk. Max had started to date Yuri Chu for a while, but he'd always had eyes for Molly. Likewise, Molly had went on a few dates with other boys, but always thought of Max when they kissed.
Max had ended up going to a University in Connecticut while Molly stayed in New York. The first year of University had been such a whirlwind of excitement that Molly had forgotten all about Max. She'd dated a couple studly college boys, embarrassingly losing her virginity to a guy named Sven, but had never felt the butterflies like she did when she saw Max looking at her looking at him back in high school. A few days before final exams were over, Molly had gotten an e-mail from Max. He was coming back to New York for the summer and was wondering if she would, maybe, if she had the time, want to meet up with him, although he would totally understand if she didn't want to. Her heart had nearly leapt out of her throat. She'd said she would love to, of course, and to call her the minute he got back to New York. He'd called about fifteen minutes before he got in, actually, and they'd set up a date.
And so Molly found herself waiting outside the movie theater in her simple but sexy outfit and tried not to turn into jelly. She was early, way early, but apparently so was he. He was slender but meaty, his hair gelled a thousand different ways, his excited eyes betraying his cautious smile. He walked straight over to her, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"Molly...how are you?"
"Max... hi!" She could feel herself blushing, and that wouldn't do, so she forced herself to relax.
"You're here early."
"Yeah. So are you."
"I didn't want to miss you."
"Yeah....me either."
He smiled at her and she smiled back and the frenzied butterflies suddenly calmed. They were still flying, but it was more like a glide on a happy summer day. They went inside, bought their tickets and sat in the almost-empty theater, talking earnestly about everything but what this date meant. When the lights dimmed, they fell silent and turned towards the screen. The movie was cheesy, as was the pizza they had afterwards, but Max ended up holding her hand through most of it, so she already deemed this date a success.
After their pizza they ended up walked through Central Park, reminiscing about high school. They talked about boring teachers and stupid assignments, school dances and promiscuous girls.
"Remember that time in Biology when Ms. Bloom couldn't spell meiosis?"
"Oh yeah! That was hilarious!" Molly chirped, her face lighting with the memory.
"I, uh...I really liked you back then," he said and even in the dark Molly could tell he was blushing.
"Yeah, me too," she replied and linked her hand with his. And then the moment felt right. She leaned forward and stared at his face, eyes, nose, lips. The butterflies were bursting through her stomach and ravaging the rest of her body. She pursed her lips, closed her eyes...and met air. The butterflies stopped mid-flight, turned into iron and crashed. She opened her eyes. Max was staring at her, his eyes light and playful, his smile mischievous.
"I want to show you something. Back at my place," he said, squeezing her hand tightly.
"Oh...o-okay," she said, too stunned by the spectacular failure of their first kiss to fully comprehend what he was saying. He stood up and she followed, her hand still linked with his., as he led her out of Central Park and the few blocks to his house.
"It's really cool, you're going to love it," he kept saying to her. Reassured, the butterflies took flight again. Before she knew it they were climbing the steps of his front porch. The house was dark and the windows closed. Max unlocked his door and led her upstairs to his room where he rummaged through some drawers before coming up with a thin hardback book. He handed it to her with a smile.
"A...yearbook?" She asked incredulously and began flipping through the pages. Was there a secret message in here? Did he circle her picture with a heart? Why was he showing this to her? "I don't get it," she said, looking up from the yearbook.
In that moment when their eyes met, Max pounced. Forcefully, with the lust of ten years, he pressed his lips against hers, cupping her face in his hands. Molly gave in, she had to, and placed one of her hands behind his head. At first it was messy, all intensity and not enough sensuality, but after a while they settled into something that felt right. Their mouths opened, their tongues swirled, their bodies touched. They moaned into each other's mouths and rubbed against each other as they found their way too the bed.
"That whole yearbook thing," kiss, "was just a ploy", swirl, "to get me here."
"PDA's aren't really my thing."
Molly fell back on the bed and Max leaned over her possessively, kissing her mouth, her chin, her neck, her shoulder, down. Molly gently placed her hands on his head and guided it back to her mouth. Their lips met again and his tongue slid across the back of her teeth. Molly moaned and Max moaned and they rolled over each other. He placed a hand on her breast, which she allowed, even going as far as lifting her chest into his grip. He placed a hand on her thigh, which she allowed. His skin was soft and warm and full of electricity. But when he began to slide his hand up her thigh she broke off the kiss.
"Woah, Max," she said, gently pushing him off of her and sitting up straight. "This is only our first date."
"But it feels right, doesn't it?" he asked, pressing his soft lips against her neck. It did, but when his hand found its way back to her thigh she pushed it off again. She wasn't that kind of girl.
"I think we need to slow down a little, get a glass of water or something."
But Max insisted with his lips, mouthing his way up her shoulder and neck, kissing across her jawline and finding her lips. She couldn't help but give in, it was Max after all, but when she felt that hand on her thigh again she pushed him away. "Okay, I think we need to stop."
But Max didn't want to stop. The hand was back, this time more insistent. "Come on, Molly. I know you want this as badly as I do," he said, laying his other hand on her chest and pushing her back onto the bed. "We've both been thinking of this for a long time. Let's not spoil it now..."
Molly felt his warm tongue against her lips, one of his hands squeezing her breast, the other sliding up her skirt, up, up, up. "Max, stop," she murmured around his lips. Up, up, up. "Stop..." She could feel his full weight on her, pinning her down, one hand on her breast, the other moving up, up, up. "Max..." Up, up up...
Molly slid her key into the lock as silently as she could. She had told Matt not to wait up for her, but now all she wished was that he would be standing on the other side with open arms. But he wasn't there. The apartment was dark and she was alone. She pressed her back against the door and slid down, her chest heaving, her arms shaking, her face stained with tears. She wrapped her arms around her knees and sobbed into her wrists. She felt dirty. She felt dirty and violated and all she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed, but she found she couldn't move. Her body refused to let her move until its anguish was heard. And so she sat there by the door for almost an hour, clutching herself, scolding herself, sobbing silently until her body finally declared 'I've had my say' and the tears stopped. But still she sat, staring into the darkness, her eyes shiny and wide with fright. 'I've had my say,' her body repeated, 'now clean me, I want to be clean.'
Molly stood on unsteady legs and wobbled to the bathroom. She turned the heat up, stepped inside, but the warmth didn't help her. It felt heavy and smothering and just served to reminded her. She turned the heat off and sat down, letting the cold water run over her still clothed body. She wouldn't feel safe naked, not even here. She closed her eyes, but her heart started pounding wildly so she opened them again. The shower wasn't helping, she wasn't getting clean. She would never be clean again. She gave up trying to be clean and decided to go to bed. She turned off the water, stepped out of the tub and shuffled to her room, a river of dripping water following behind. She managed to change into her pajamas and slip under the covers, but got out almost immediately. The bed was uncomfortable and felt unsafe. She grabbed her pillow, curled up on the floor and fell asleep.
***
She could hear Matt clamoring around the kitchen and could smell bacon. She was still on the floor, in the exact same position. 'I'm hungry', her body said, 'I want some food'. So Molly stood up, ignoring her aching thighs, and lurched towards the door. Her head was spinning and she felt like throwing up, but her body was hungry so she opened the door to her room and shuffled towards the kitchen.
"Morning Sunshine!" Matt called as he scooped some scrambled eggs from the pan he was holding onto an awaiting plate. He must have seen the look on her face, because his face fell and he looked sad. "Oh...bad date?"
Molly looked at him blankly for a few seconds, her mouth an emotionless line. "...It wasn't what I expected," she finally answered. "Can I have some eggs?"
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. You were looking forward to this date for so long. What happened?" he asked, setting a plate of food in front of her and taking his place beside.
Molly didn't answer. She just dug into her eggs and ate, shoveling food into her mouth, her body demanding 'more, more, more!'
"What happened?" Matt asked again, forking some eggs into his mouth.
Molly looked up and stared at him, blinking a few times. What did happen?
She wasn't sure if he read her mind or just saw something in her ruined face, but Matt's face suddenly fell, all the joy and humour leaving his cheeks. "Molly," he said, dropping his fork, "tell me what happened." His voice was low and thick with dread.
Molly continued to stare, but this time through tear blurred eyes. Matt reached out a hand and gently touched her wrist, a gesture that he had done a million times before, but she withdrew it with a frightened jerk, the first of a lifetime of tears running down her cheek.
Blood surged in Matt, reddening his face before leaving his skin pale and lifeless.
Molly, unable to watch the horror run through Matt's ruined face, leaned over her eggs and began to sob so violently that her lungs hurt. In a moment she felt Matt's huge, warm body enveloping her, crushing love into her soul. She gripped his shirt, pulled him closer and cried over what Max Grossman had suddenly become to her. She cried over her own violation and sense of betrayal. And now that she was in his arms, she cried because she knew that now, no matter what, Matt could never see her as his perfect little angel again.