Break Me (Ginny/Draco)
Title: Break Me
Author: Tonya
Disclaimer as usual.
Rating: R-ish
Summary: This is no fairytale romance.
Your relationship was never about love, gentleness. Everything was hard. Cutting. Painful.
The kisses were never sweet.
Lips were bitten. Blood was drawn. Hair was pulled. Kisses weren’t about romance for you; they were about causing each other a bit of pain.
Cause pain and hatred and blood was your foreplay.
The sex wasn’t about being in love.
It was brutal, primal. He would tear into you, to the point where you’d want to scream but would hold it in. You’d bite your lip, your scream being reduced to a groan as you tasted your own metallic blood in your mouth. You didn’t scream because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had the upper hand in your relationship.
But you caused your own share of pain.
You fought back hard, and his slender body wore the marks. The nails that dug into his back, breaking the skin and drawing small lines of blood across his spine. The bruises where your teeth would dig into the salty flesh of his shoulder.
There was no cuddling afterwards, no whispers of sweet I-love-you’s into each other’s ears.
He’d roll his body off yours, and you’d lie quietly as you listened to the sound of him getting dressed. You’d lie with his sweat covering your body, his seed dripping from between your legs, and his blood clinging to the underside of your nails. Curled up on your side, you’d watch him dress and make snide remarks about his performance, and he’d retort with a nasty comment of his own.
It was the way your nights together always ended.
With sweat. With blood. With hate.
And before he would leave you, he would always lean over and take a handful of your hair in his hands, bringing your lips roughly to his. And with a final scrape of your teeth against his bottom lip, he would go.
There was never a goodbye.
Because trading goodbyes meant something that this relationship wasn’t.
Because this wasn’t about love.
-end
Author: Tonya
Disclaimer as usual.
Rating: R-ish
Summary: This is no fairytale romance.
Your relationship was never about love, gentleness. Everything was hard. Cutting. Painful.
The kisses were never sweet.
Lips were bitten. Blood was drawn. Hair was pulled. Kisses weren’t about romance for you; they were about causing each other a bit of pain.
Cause pain and hatred and blood was your foreplay.
The sex wasn’t about being in love.
It was brutal, primal. He would tear into you, to the point where you’d want to scream but would hold it in. You’d bite your lip, your scream being reduced to a groan as you tasted your own metallic blood in your mouth. You didn’t scream because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had the upper hand in your relationship.
But you caused your own share of pain.
You fought back hard, and his slender body wore the marks. The nails that dug into his back, breaking the skin and drawing small lines of blood across his spine. The bruises where your teeth would dig into the salty flesh of his shoulder.
There was no cuddling afterwards, no whispers of sweet I-love-you’s into each other’s ears.
He’d roll his body off yours, and you’d lie quietly as you listened to the sound of him getting dressed. You’d lie with his sweat covering your body, his seed dripping from between your legs, and his blood clinging to the underside of your nails. Curled up on your side, you’d watch him dress and make snide remarks about his performance, and he’d retort with a nasty comment of his own.
It was the way your nights together always ended.
With sweat. With blood. With hate.
And before he would leave you, he would always lean over and take a handful of your hair in his hands, bringing your lips roughly to his. And with a final scrape of your teeth against his bottom lip, he would go.
There was never a goodbye.
Because trading goodbyes meant something that this relationship wasn’t.
Because this wasn’t about love.
-end