Where'd You Go? (Track Twelve, III), chapter 22
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Wren leaned forward and roughly kissed him. Poisonously, she added, "I hate you Mike." Finally, a fire sprang up in his soft eyes, hardening them like stone. She reveled in his pain as his face twisted in anger.
"You can say that after all we've done?" His hand caught her chin and they began a battle to see whose lips could crush the other's first.
"Fuck you," she snapped between attacks. "Better yet, go let Tré fuck you."
"He doesn't even compare to you," he replied.
Furiously, she kissed him, making muffled complaint as his conquering tongue slid into her mouth. She tore off his bandana, hating it because it was his. He pulled her onto his lap, bending her back until she thought her spine would snap. He resumed the virulent kissing, it was deep and drawing, as if he was trying to suck out her soul. All the sounds that could be heard were hastily drawn breaths.
She heaved against him as his hand ripped off the concealing bandages. Seconds later, teeth closed over the exposed bruise. The pain felt oddly good, but Wren could inflict it as well. Mercilessly, she grabbed his hair and tugged hard. He leaned back with an animalistic baring of teeth. Victorious, she glared at him. In a flash, he'd pulled off his shirt. Shaking his head, he pressed her down onto the bed. A bit of fear flashed through her mind at the roughness at which he did so. Vengefully, she dragged her fingernails down his chest, drawing blood. For a few seconds, he loomed above her, occasionally twitching from the pain.
"I love you," he growled.
"I know."
When she went to scratch at his back, he pinned her arms and began seductively licking her throbbing jugular. She rose up and clamped her teeth into his ear. He let her pull him down, and then freed himself. Wren tried to kiss him back as he bit her lip. She just missed when she attempted to kick him in the crotch. As he carefully stroked her leg, she bit her lip in order not to cry out.
"Mike."
"What?"
"Quit trying to be nice." He yelped as she bit his shoulder. "Wuss," she challenged around a mouthful of his flesh.
"Wanna bet?" He held her down by her shoulders and used his legs to hold her still. Ancient instincts screamed that she was too vulnerable like this, restrained and laying on her back. Snarling, she struggled against the much stronger teenager who continued to pin her with ease.
"Wren! Hey." He tried to get her to stop. "Quit it! Wren. Think! Take it easy."
As if I'm going to do anything you tell me. 'Lay still so I can rape you', I don't think so! She managed to free her hand and use it to bend his fingers backwards.
At this, a multitude of emotions danced over his face. Pain. Anger. Despair. Finally, resignation won out. He reared off of her. As soon as he was far enough away that she was not forcing his fingers to curve unnaturally, she dropped his hand.
"Wren. Why are we doing this?"
"Because I hate you."
"Really?"
An uncomfortable silence followed.
Wren had no idea how she felt. On the one hand, she wanted to beat him up. On the other, she wanted to just comfort and be comforted by him. She edged out from under him and went limp.
"You know what Mike? Do whatever you want. I don't care." She closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. All that pent up tension was flowing away, leaving her just empty again. He did not move. She could hear him breathing.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Just like at the rollover, every breath she anticipated hearing. Tears stung at her eyes.
What would have happened if he had died? I would not be here right now. I would not have just came inches away from having something like mutual rape. I'd be somewhere missing him and wishing he was alive.
Without thinking, she blindly sought out and grabbed his hand.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. He held her hand and ran his fingers over it. Wanting to see his reaction, she opened her eyes. She was a bit shocked to see tear traces on his cheeks. Mike never cried, not over injuries or (unlike Tré) trivial things like who got to eat first. The anger was gone, as was the resignation, now it was just sorrow.
The door flew open, and they both jumped. Hastily she adjusted her clothes. Mike hunched over to hide the nail marks on his skin. Billie Joe and Tré came in.
"You can say that after all we've done?" His hand caught her chin and they began a battle to see whose lips could crush the other's first.
"Fuck you," she snapped between attacks. "Better yet, go let Tré fuck you."
"He doesn't even compare to you," he replied.
Furiously, she kissed him, making muffled complaint as his conquering tongue slid into her mouth. She tore off his bandana, hating it because it was his. He pulled her onto his lap, bending her back until she thought her spine would snap. He resumed the virulent kissing, it was deep and drawing, as if he was trying to suck out her soul. All the sounds that could be heard were hastily drawn breaths.
She heaved against him as his hand ripped off the concealing bandages. Seconds later, teeth closed over the exposed bruise. The pain felt oddly good, but Wren could inflict it as well. Mercilessly, she grabbed his hair and tugged hard. He leaned back with an animalistic baring of teeth. Victorious, she glared at him. In a flash, he'd pulled off his shirt. Shaking his head, he pressed her down onto the bed. A bit of fear flashed through her mind at the roughness at which he did so. Vengefully, she dragged her fingernails down his chest, drawing blood. For a few seconds, he loomed above her, occasionally twitching from the pain.
"I love you," he growled.
"I know."
When she went to scratch at his back, he pinned her arms and began seductively licking her throbbing jugular. She rose up and clamped her teeth into his ear. He let her pull him down, and then freed himself. Wren tried to kiss him back as he bit her lip. She just missed when she attempted to kick him in the crotch. As he carefully stroked her leg, she bit her lip in order not to cry out.
"Mike."
"What?"
"Quit trying to be nice." He yelped as she bit his shoulder. "Wuss," she challenged around a mouthful of his flesh.
"Wanna bet?" He held her down by her shoulders and used his legs to hold her still. Ancient instincts screamed that she was too vulnerable like this, restrained and laying on her back. Snarling, she struggled against the much stronger teenager who continued to pin her with ease.
"Wren! Hey." He tried to get her to stop. "Quit it! Wren. Think! Take it easy."
As if I'm going to do anything you tell me. 'Lay still so I can rape you', I don't think so! She managed to free her hand and use it to bend his fingers backwards.
At this, a multitude of emotions danced over his face. Pain. Anger. Despair. Finally, resignation won out. He reared off of her. As soon as he was far enough away that she was not forcing his fingers to curve unnaturally, she dropped his hand.
"Wren. Why are we doing this?"
"Because I hate you."
"Really?"
An uncomfortable silence followed.
Wren had no idea how she felt. On the one hand, she wanted to beat him up. On the other, she wanted to just comfort and be comforted by him. She edged out from under him and went limp.
"You know what Mike? Do whatever you want. I don't care." She closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. All that pent up tension was flowing away, leaving her just empty again. He did not move. She could hear him breathing.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Just like at the rollover, every breath she anticipated hearing. Tears stung at her eyes.
What would have happened if he had died? I would not be here right now. I would not have just came inches away from having something like mutual rape. I'd be somewhere missing him and wishing he was alive.
Without thinking, she blindly sought out and grabbed his hand.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. He held her hand and ran his fingers over it. Wanting to see his reaction, she opened her eyes. She was a bit shocked to see tear traces on his cheeks. Mike never cried, not over injuries or (unlike Tré) trivial things like who got to eat first. The anger was gone, as was the resignation, now it was just sorrow.
The door flew open, and they both jumped. Hastily she adjusted her clothes. Mike hunched over to hide the nail marks on his skin. Billie Joe and Tré came in.
