Work Text:
The positions are reversed
She is crying on his chest while squeezing his neck,
she was crying that time too, when she was a child.
But those were tears of fear.
These are tears of rage.
he knows it.
His grip is too tight to be human,
but it's too late to work.
she's screaming at him: die. die. die. die.
even though she knows it won't work.
He's clinging to her wrists.
Squeezing and begging with his eyes.
It makes her angry.
She slams him to the ground
again and again and again.
Each blow is a stab of pain
Straight to his brain
he's her rag doll to break and tear.
and she can throw him away and cry if she wants to.
His impact against the floor is loud
the springs dig into his exposed flesh,
pierce him, tear him, tear him through.
and he screams, like the pathetic, frightened animal it turned him into.
He gasps without a breath he doesn't even need.
His vision is red as he looks for her with his eyes.
She's staring at him now, and he feels stupid
the way it makes his heart pound.
He'd like to sit down, but he can't. And so he wants to break her, destroy her, tear her apart piece by piece.
But her body is too used to the pain to even try.
And then she leaves and then she comes back to him.
clinging like it's the only thing in the world that makes sense.
straddling his lap. metal against plastic with a hungry touch.
and his kiss tastes like poison.
And her touch burns him.
But still he's yearning for more.
she touches him where a girl's hand should never have reached.
(with intent, with hunger)
But he lets her do it, lets her play
it's not worth the fight
her legs already witnessed that
So they lie/they do
deeply intertwined
to the root of hatred and blood
and he's looking for her mouth,
loving her as if she were his olive branch
she hates him, when he began to worship him?