DISCLAIMER: The characters herein are used without permission. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tried a different writing style with this piece, so if you care to drop a few words telling me if it worked or not, I'd really appreciate it.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Whatever's Left
By Constantine


I open my eyes and stare at Maxie's unfamiliar bedroom ceiling.  It is still dark outside, which is perfect because I want to remain blinded to the last twenty-four hours.  I need the black, starless night to wash the ugliness from my soul, but it only brings it to the surface.  It sticks to my skin like minuscule bits of sand that stupidly cling to the shore when salvation is only a drop away.

My breath is not my own anymore.  It courses through my lungs and deadens my stomach with a perverted pulse of fear and disgust.  There's a piece of him here now.  He's forever lodged into my gut, twisting himself around my ribcage and suffocating me from the inside.  

I think I may have loved him once.  I know he loved me.  Maybe he loved me too much.  I'm like my father that way; we break what we love.  It's a sick family trait that hunts us down through generations.

"Why are you awake?"  Maxie knows, but she asks anyway because the deafening silence is too much for her.  It's heavier than the comforter covering our bodies and heavier than her hand clutching my thigh.

"I can't deal with your stupid fucking questions right now."  It's cruel, I know, but it's what she expects.  I think it's what she needs.  "Can you let go of me?"  She ignores me as usual and there's a comfort in that.  "Maxie, seriously, let go of me."

"I can't."  She grips my leg harder.  Her nails bite into my skin.  I turn my head and can barely make out her scared blue eyes in the dark.  I'm scared too, but I can't say the words.  Not to her.  She turns on her side.  She's facing me, now.  The hand on my leg flattens out and rubs a small circle on my inner thigh.  The shorts she let me borrow leave my skin exposed to her touch.

"What are you doing?"  Again, she doesn't answer.  Her hand trails up to the waistband of my shorts.  "Stop."  I say the word, but I think it's a lie.  There's a seed of hope planted in the hollow of my chest.  Maybe this pain will cancel out the rest.  Maybe it'll hurt so much until I can't feel anything ever again.

Her hand travels up to my breast.  She squeezes my nipple hard... then harder... then harder still, until I suck in air between clenched teeth.  She doesn't ask if she should stop.  We hurt each other best; we've known that for a while now.

She replaces her fingers with teeth that sink into my flesh.  My nipples are as hard as the knife I held in my hand only hours ago.  I open my mouth, but my groan just silently breathes into the room, scraping itself along my throat on its way out.  

She lays her body on top of mine.  I can feel her heat through her pajama pants as she grinds into mine.  My shorts are soaked all the way through.  I grab her hand and shove it between us.  She palms me and I buck into her.

Maxie's hand slides its way underneath my panties.  There's no need to get undressed.  She rubs her fingers along my wet folds.  I grab her hair and roughly yank her lips to my breasts.  Her tongue circles my nipples as her thumb circles my clit.  She settles herself over my thigh and glides back and forth.  Three fingers slide into me.  My breath catches in my throat.  We rock together without love, or softness, or anything that makes it beautiful.

"Harder."  The word comes out of my mouth like a cum drenched sob.  Her fingers pierce into me. They reach into me like she's searching for herself or maybe just some facade of who she was before today.  We start to lose control of the rhythm.  She grabs my hand and shoves it down her pants.  I quickly find her clit and rub it hard and fast and rough.

"Fuck."  I don't know if that was she or I or both of us, but the sound tightens my walls in a death grip around her fingers.  She thrusts into me hard and unforgiving and I soak her fingers with my pain.  She rubs her throbbing center onto my thigh one final time and her sticky juices slide down my leg.

Her hot breath scrapes against my neck as her head falls onto my shoulder.  We stay like that for a few moments while our hearts beat back to normal.  After a while she pulls her skin away from mine and goes back to her side of the bed.  

"Thanks," Maxie says as she turns her back to me.  I grab the comforter to cover up the instant chill.  It's still dark outside and I finally feel numb, but I know the sunrise will let me know exactly how much it cost.

The End

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