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She drops her head, her feet shifting, she flicks those pretty lifeless eyes up onto mine, holding my gaze and I never want her to look away.
My knife is like an itch, thumb still locking it in the palm of my hand. Sweat beading at the top of my spine, blood roaring in my ears.
I stare at her mouth, her thick lips are cracked, the bottom one dry and bitten, and I want to sink my teeth into it.
I step into her, hands tightening on her waist, her feet tracking her backwards until she’s stumbling back into the end stall. Flicking the lock, I spin us around, slamming her back into the door, the lock bolt rattling as the door shakes.
I dip my head, catching her eye, my nose brushing over the tip of hers, my hands slipping from her waist, splaying on either side of her head instead, caging her in.
“I missed you,” I breathe, lips slanted over her mouth. “They kept me away.” I swallow, catching the split in her bottom lip with the tip of my tongue as I lick my own, tasting iron. “I never would have left you alone again.”
“It’s for the best, Flynn,” she whispers.
My fist with the knife slams into the door beside her head, making the entire row of stalls shake at her back, but she doesn’t flinch.
“It’s not for the fucking best!” the words seem to rip their way up my throat, tasting like battery acid on my tongue. She flinches then, my empty hand smoothing over her head, “It’s not what’sbest,” I say quietly, breathing deep. “Us, Angel, that’s what’s best. Me and you.” I drag my nose along her temple, breathing her in. “I can make you happy,” I kiss her cheek, mouthing along the arch of bone, down towards her cupid’s bow. “I can keep you safe.” My mouth glides over hers, my bottom lip grazing the skin. “Let me keep you, Angel, let me have you, Poppy.”
Her breaths are loud in the echoey room, her chest touching mine with every inhale. I kiss her cheek, open mouthed down her face, one side and then the other, my eyes never straying from hers. She watches me too, never closing those dying eyes. Her hands are flat to the door at her back, body pressed into it. Her loose shirt gaping at the torn neckline, exposing the delicate, pale flesh of the curve of her shoulder.
My tongue glides down the side of her neck, circling the hollow of her throat, my teeth nipping along the length of her collarbone, sucking on her shoulder. I stare at her as my teeth dig in, tongue licking around the inside of them. I bite free of her shoulder, scraping my teeth closed over the fresh bruise to her skin.
“Tell me to stop,” I breathe, her chest heaving, I hold her gaze, her eyes flicking frantically between my own, searching. “I’m not going to ever let you go.” It’s a promise, I cannot warn her away from me. “You’ll never be able to cut me free, Angel, I’m your own personal disease.” I peck at her lips, “I’m bone deep,” I breathe, licking over her mouth. “There’s no fucking cure for me.”
She groans like the sound’s been bubbling in her throat, desperate to break free, and I swear to fuck, I almost die.
Our lips collide, desperate and needy as our teeth clash. Her moans echo their way down my throat, my tongue in her mouth, her hands digging into my shoulders. I’m pawing at her skirt, stretchy, tight, knitted fabric. Fingers clawing at the loop of her baggy shirt tucked into the high elastic waistband. I bend myknees, our mouths still connected as she pushes her fingers up into my curls, nails dragging over my scalp as she holds me to her, not letting me go.
I’m panting, shoving her skirt up as I straighten my knees. I flick my blade free with asnick, her lips fused with mine, she stills, her eyes opening, slowly, so slowly, rove to the knife in my hand beside her head. The glaring strip bulbs above us glint off of the blue tinted steel. She draws back, her lips leaving mine, crown of her head flush with the door, but she doesn’t let go of my head, her nails curving into my scalp.
“Tell me why you were on the stairs,” I pant over her mouth, drawing back just enough to see her face clearly.
“To see you,” she whispers, holding my eye, and my heart flip flops in my chest, but she drops her gaze again, that thick bottom lip being abused by her top teeth.
“What for?” I cock my head, ducking down just a little to see her beneath her hair.
“To hurt,” she whispers, eyes on the sliver of space between us.
“Poppy,” my exhale is shaky, adrenaline like a livewire in my veins. “Look at me,” I tilt her face up to meet mine, blade beside her cheek, she doesn’t flinch.
“Why d’you wanna hurt, Angel?”
Her lilac eyes dart between mine, her tongue catching my mouth as she licks her lips, her fingers tightening impossibly hard on my head, it feels good to have her hold me.
“To feel,” she hushes, shame thick in the choked words.
“Why me?” I think of Bennett, of Raiden, Rex, even Lynx, all of them could do this for her.
“Because I trust you the most,” it’s a broken confession, something that seems to pierce my heart. “Because I feel safe with you.”
I shudder as she claws her nails across my scalp, my eyes fluttering closed, open. My hand cupping her jaw, the knife dangerously close to her eye, but she doesn’t care, she doesn’t even look at it. She’s only looking at me.
“You want me to look after you, Angel?” she nods, slowly, once, twice.
My fingers slip down the door with an uncomfortable squeak, but it’s like neither one of us hears it, the clamminess of my palm against the plastic coated door. Hand coming to her hip, skirt and shirt shoved up high between us. Flat of the blade to the jut of her bone, I flick my eyes between hers.
“Yes,” she breathes. “Make me feel, Flynn.”
I drag the blade down lower, the knife's edge against her skin.
