[CONTENT NOTE: Here be dragons.]
“Did you get them?“ she asked as he walked through the door. She’d been pacing relentlessly since waking, and clearly hadn’t yet looked in the mirror; her hair was tangled and sticky, and last night’s makeup had transitioned from contoured to impressionist.
He smiled and held up a drugstore bag.
“Thank god,” she exhaled, slumping dramatically against the kitchen counter-top. “I can’t fucking believe you.”
“Believe me what?” he asked, tossing her the bag.
“You fucking bred me, you maniac!” she giggled, watching him shed his coat and kick off his shoes. “Who does that on a first date? I mean, it was the single greatest fuck of my life, no question, but you should— seriously, don’t ever do that with anyone else, okay?”
“What do you mean?” He dropped into a nearby chair.
“What— are you kidding?” She straightened slightly and regarded him skeptically. Her grip on the bag tightened almost imperceptibly.
“About what? What do you mean?” He reached for her upper arm and pulled her forcefully on to his lap. She went limp for a moment, before her brain remembered that it had an unanswered question.
“Look, I told you I loved it,” she said, watching his face intently. She rattled the bag. “You got me the emergency pills, so we’re good. Better than good.
“But, that shit you pulled— you know you can’t just do that to girls, right?”
“Did it to you,” he observed casually, punctuating the statement with a slap on her ass.
Again she straightened herself, and her eyes narrowed.
“Yes, asshole, you did.” She felt him groping her and chose to ignore it. “I told you we couldn’t, you said I was asking for it, I said you were right but we still couldn’t, and then you fucking pushed it in and finished in me anyway.”
“Made you cum,” he pointed out, and then bit her neck.
“I— yes, I thought that was clear. I admit it. Do you need me to announce it?” She dropped the bag in their collective lap and cupped her hands around her mouth. “I’m a disgusting fucking whore! Okay? Are we agreed?
“Good. Now goddamnit, promise me that you know what you did was wrong.”
“Wrong in what sense?” he asked.
“Are you fucking—?!” She pushed against his chest in an attempt at launching herself upright, but his wandering hands suddenly made themselves at home, locking her in place. “This isn’t funny.”
“I think it is,” he replied.
“Look,” she began, as his grip turned into a slowly suffocating hug. “This is— why are you making this hard? I— I want it to be easy, okay?
“I loved it. I regret nothing. But that was rape, baby. What you did was rape. I’m not— I want so bad to be cool about this, and I just need you to help me. Just a little. Just— please, just tell me you’ll never do it again.”
“I’ll never do it again,” he recited dutifully.
“Thank you.” She relaxed.
“You are easy,” he said with a grin. “C’mon, I mean, clearly, I’m going to do it again. It wasn’t my first time, and won’t be my last.”
She could only stare at him.
“Hell, that won’t even be the last time I do it to you,” he promised, returning her gaze. “Pretty sure I’m going to do it again in just a few minutes.”
Her expression was frozen in horror, but only for a moment; then her eyes hardened. She drew up both legs, drove her heel into his kneecap, and shoved at his face with her free hand. His howl of pain and disorientation gave her an opening, and she seized it, wriggling out of his grasp and falling to the floor.
She hadn’t even managed to make it to her feet before he was upon her again. He grunted angrily and tackled her, sending them both sprawling across the coffee table. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head up sharply, and then smashed it against the tabletop. She twisted just enough to prevent the impact breaking her nose.
But that small victory was her last. Fear, exhaustion, and a rapidly developing concussion seemed to convince her to surrender all at once. Her struggles ceased, and as if out of habit, she helpfully raised her hips while he ripped at her panties. He draped himself over her as he pushed inside her mystifyingly wet cunt, and she arched her back to help him find the angle.
The mournful look on her face suggested she would never forgive her body for those little accommodations.
He began to slowly grind himself into her, growling half-articulated obscenities into her ear with every painfully deliberate stroke. After a few minutes, her eyes slowly meandered around the room, taking in the array of objects that had been strewn about during the fight.
“What —wuh— was in the bag?” she asked dispassionately.
“Aspirin,” he said, and then bit into her shoulder. She nodded slightly and moved on.
“You still —unf— read magazines?” she whispered, increasingly disconnected from the travails of her flesh. “Who —dnh— does that?”
“Magazines make a house look lived in,” he assured her, never breaking his rhythm.
“Wh— what?” she said, her voice growing smaller and thinner.
“I come over— mn, yeah,” he began, momentarily lost in the ecstasy of narrating triumph to the conquered. “I come twice a week —fuck yes— and cook onions and garlic, to make it smell human in here. Once a month, I –your cunt is so good— rent it out, to disturb the dust and scatter strange DNA.”
“You don’t —tngh— live here?” She sounded like a woozy little girl, up far past her bedtime.
“No, this isn’t where I live,” he assured her. “This is where I come to create life.”
And with that, he finished. He made no sound, other than a long, ragged sigh, like a man expelling some vile humor.
“Oh,” she said, her consciousness draining away. When she spoke again, it was both a question and a lament. “Is— is anything real?”
He kissed the crown of her head and then pulled himself out and up.
“Don’t worry, girl,” he said as oblivion came for her. “What I’ve put inside you is as real as it gets.”
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