Retroactive

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So who knew?
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Recidiva
Recidiva
28 Followers

At a party. First night back out after the disaster that was her previous "love match." Fuck. How do you do these things? Shouldn't she be home with a gallon of ice cream and tissues? Still, she didn't feel like crying or wallowing, enough was enough. Time to be herself again and get out there, make friends again. Time to figure out who she was again and stop making excuses for her 'other half.' Now she could be whole. Less a wrench and more of a relief, she was feeling stronger by the minute. Just the social awkwardness of admitting she was wrong about her chosen mate.

Again.

Damn.

Well, no time like the present. She looked good, and if she still had a little roiling unease going on under the surface, so be it.

Checking her reflection for the umpteenth time in a picture frame, she sighed and cleared the furrows from her brow, turning to a group of friends and edging her way into the warm circle of laughter.

"The prodigal daughter returns!"

She's pulled into the embrace of her friend Rachel and is hugged, forgiven for all her flaws and foibles. "Child, it is good to see you, we missed you. Especially without that awful man whose name shall not be spoken. There, I said it. Now, everyone else, be nice to our girl Cynthia here. There. Done." Rachel smiled and released Cynthia's arm with one more squeeze, then turned back to the story she was telling and began doing more gesticulating to underline her point.

Cynthia's ears were roaring a little and felt like she'd been called out on the carpet, but there was no helping it, it had to be done. Rachel had ripped the Band-Aid off and it's out. She gritted her teeth and tried to think lovely thoughts like in "Peter Pan." Maybe someone would sprinkle her with fairy dust and she could fly away from this.

But no.

No dust, well, not the childish kind. Some drugs here and about, but she didn't do that kind of dust either. Dammit. No escape.

And it gets worse. A knowing smile is walking her way, one she's particularly not enjoying confronting.

She heaves a deep sigh and says "I know, please don't start."

His smile is pure sugar and his voice is the opposite. "God damn, girl, you have atrocious taste in men."

Her head hangs and she looks mock ashamed. "Carl, please. My first night back. Is there any chance that you..." she raises her head and looks at him. No. No chance.

His eyes meet hers and he hands her a drink. Offhand she notices it's her favorite. How the hell did he know...never mind. Here it comes.

"Cyn, I swear, I have to strike while the iron is hot before you find another loser to prop up."

Cynthia sighs. He always managed to say her name in a way to make it sound like "Sin" on purpose. She couldn't stand it and he knew it. Nobody else calls her this. She takes a sip of her drink and braces herself against the sharp fumes and the sharp atmosphere.

"Fine. This is my 'flog the heretic' night. Please, don't spare me."

"Cyn, if you're looking to be flogged, I volunteer."

She starts to laugh this off and then meets his eyes again. He's not joking. Her hands curl around the cool glass and beads of condensation slip between her fingers. "I'm a little raw this evening, if you could tone down the cat o' nine tails to maybe a cat o' five tails, I'd appreciate it." She delivers this is a quiet voice and tries to take another sip, eyes downcast.

His hand closes over her glass and his smile is again silken and his voice harsh. "No. We're leaving. Unless you want a public flogging and not a private one."

The glass is extricated from her nerveless hand and his arm pulls hers into the crook of his own with a steely hand holding her in place. Much warmer than hers. Much more determined and all the fight's just gone out of her. Raw and willing to escape in any way, and unwilling to become a public bullseye, she knows him well enough that he'll do exactly what he says without mercy unless she goes with him. But this is Carl. He wouldn't hurt her. She knows this and is relieved to be going, to have it done and out of her hands, to be rescued from tonight. And she doesn't trust herself anymore. And she's so tired.

He makes the rounds with her saying good night in what appears to be a friendly promenade, but is underscored with his hand on her forearm, solid and unyielding. She says goodnight in a confused and anticipatory blur. Anticipating getting her ass kicked, but that's better than the bleak loss she's been feeling.

Thankfully they didn't have far to go, Carl and Rachel lived in the same building, and his apartment was only an elevator ride away. Familiar territory, but this time, not a rowdy and fun ride. He was staring at the numbers, watching them tick by as if he could will them to travel faster.

Silence as his key grated in the lock and he ushered her inside, gesturing her to go before him. As if he didn't trust her, and she'd cut and run if he wasn't bringing up the rear. With his present mood, she might. He knew it.

Since he wasn't taking any chances he even locked the door behind him and leaned against it once inside. She grinned and tried to make light of it.

"Carl, I'm not going to try to escape. I can take it. I think. Can I take it?"

Silence and a glare from Carl. "No. You can't take it. But you're going to."

Her head rolls back in exasperation and she closes her eyes and says "Please, just say what you're going to say. I can't stand the suspense."

Pushing off from the door and stepping behind her, he moves her hair out of the way and tips her head forward to knead her shoulders. "It's been bad, hasn't it?" he asks simply.

"Awful."

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how stupid do you feel?" His voice is warm and teasing.

"Three."

"Three? No way, you should be lower than that. One."

"Two."

"One point five, and that's my final offer."

She starts to laugh and groans softly at his hands massaging her shoulders. "I should pay you for this. Can I make an appointment for this in the future, this is nice."

His voice is closer to her ear than she expects and he says "I insist on future appointments. I see your calendar becoming crowded."

She nods slightly and says "I should get back into the game."

He shakes his head and kisses the nape of her neck. "Not THE game. My game."

Her head jerks up suddenly and her voice is no longer relaxed. "Carl, you're acting very strange this evening. This is a little more "Confuse Cynthia" than I'm used to."

He laughs and slides his hands down her arms and pulls her back against his chest. "Good. I like you confused. It's when you try to think that you're scary."

Taking this as more friendly chiding, she tips her head back against his shoulder and looks at him imploringly. "Please, tell me, when does the flogging end?"

He wraps his arms around her and sighs "I don't know. We have to get past the grudge fucking first. Then I'll consider being civil."

She freezes and twists her head to study his expression, which is steely again. "You're scaring me."

"Good."

Turning her in his arms he holds her face between his hands and draws her closer for a kiss that sears and shocks, surprise holds her still for a moment, and then ignoring the sensation she starts to struggle. "Carl. Not funny."

Growling at the interruption of the kiss, his expression darkens to anger and his voice is a lash of intent. "No. Not funny. Not intended to be. Shut up, Cyn."

Squirming with what she feels to be the deepest humiliation she's undergone, she bites his lip and pulls back, the back of his hand going to his mouth and dragging over a smear of blood.

"God damn it, you bastard. Like I need you to make me feel like I'm being used. I've had enough of that."

His laugh is bleak. "Enough? No. Not enough. You never expect enough. And you get everything wrong, as usual. I swear, you are the stupidest woman on the face of this Earth. What the hell do you think is going on here?"

Cynthia stammers and grinds to a halt in her anger and apologizes for the blood she drew. "I don't know. This is your idea of punishing me. For my bad judgment, for my lack of control, for something only you know. Why don't you tell me."

He releases a bark of laughter and pushes against her shoulders, rocking her back a pace with every sentence. "No. YOU are the one with the bad judgment, not me. YOU are the one with horrible taste, not me. YOU are the one who can't see someone in love with you when he's kissing you."

Her eyes narrowed and she scoffs at him "You. In love with me. When did this happen?"

"You are one of the most Godawful stupid people. I swear to you, I can't understand how I fell for such a stupid woman."

His stalking advance induces her into flight and she starts to scoot around the couch to put some distance between them, hands in front of her to ward him off somehow. "No. No. This is crazy. You're acting crazy. Is this some "Scared Straight" program where you're trying to put me off men altogether? It's working. Carl. CARL. It's me!"

"I am not chasing you around this couch. Hold still or I'm not going to be responsible for the consequences, brainless."

Heedless, she backs away one extra step and with a sudden leap over it, she's caught in his arms again. "Bloody hell, woman. Can't follow simple instructions."

His mouth lowers to hers and her arms are pinned this time to her sides. She's caught between him being serious and thinking he was slipped something in his drink. Either way...leaning against him, she's beginning to believe in serious.

She draws back and looks at him. "You're serious."

He nods and draws one slow breath. "I'm serious."

Her eyes close. "What the hell?"

He laughs and wraps his arms around her completely, caressing her back and shoulders. "I've decided that you're a heedless treasure and you need a dragon to guard you."

"You're a dragon?"

"I'm a dragon. Don't let the handsome face and incredible body fool you. Pure reptile. I'm working on the wings. Maybe next year."

"And here I thought the breathing fire was just an act."

"Cyn. I'm telling you now. No more men."

"No more men?"

"No more men. Only me."

"Only you."

"You're not allowed to think about this."

"I'm not?"

"No. You're supposed to feel this."

His head tilted down for a gentle kiss, nuzzling her lips and kissing the corners of them, his teeth playing with her lower lip and his hand coming up to trace the curve of her ear and tuck her hair gently behind it. "I'll try to grudge fuck you nicely. Stupid."

She starts to laugh and her finger traces over his lips and over the spot where she bit him. "I am such a trial to you, huh?"

"Felony trial."

"Manslaughter?"

He nods solemnly. "Cyn. Tell me you're staying here with me or you'll never leave here alive."

She giggles again "That doesn't make any sense."

He nuzzles her neck and whispers "Sure it does. It makes Cyn sense. As much as you ever do. Tell. Me. You're. Staying. Cyn." He punctuates each word with a kiss on the nape of her neck.

Her head tilts back and she sighs with one long exhalation. "I'm staying."

All the anger and tension drains out of his body and he looks wrung out for one moment, then playful again. "That is a binding legal contract. I'm holding you to it."

"What gets me is that there's a grudge fucking clause to this contract." She looks pensive.

"Oh yeah! Grudge fucking, I almost forgot." He seizes her suddenly and carries her to his bedroom, tossing her into the center of the bed with a heavy "OOF" on impact.

"That's about the most unromantic..."

"Oh shut up. I'm the injured party here, you're only going to be vaguely bruised. But you'll like it."

"I will?"

"You'll have a bruised smile."

She starting to edge off the bed again, but he circles around and leans over her, unclasping his belt and slowly drawing it out from each loop, then dropping it dramatically on the floor.

"You are a scary son of a bitch, you know. If I'd known earlier..."

He interrupts her "If you'd known earlier, you probably would have fallen for me sooner, huh? Predictable wench. Okay. First there's the rending of the clothing. Mind if I tear your dress off you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"It's really for effect. I'd like you to have the whole package."

She looks down at her dress and then up at him, starting to unbutton his shirt and spread it open to lay her hands on his chest. "I'd hate to miss the whole package. Go on. Tear me." Her voice is huskier and she kisses the center of his chest, rubbing her lips and cheek against his skin in a sensual drag.

"That's so not fair. You're supposed to be intimidated by me."

"C'mon, Carl. Or do you not know how ladies' clothing works?"

"You're enjoying this way too much."

She looks up at him and her eyes are warm and welcoming. "I am."

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

She shakes her head slowly. "Show me?"

His smile deepens and he kneels on the bed, pulling her to him and tipping her chin up to look in her eyes, then dipping his lips to kiss her, tangling his hands in her rumpled hair and combing it through his fingers.

Disarmed and shaken from the sudden shift of events, sapped weak by his kiss, her thighs start to tremble and a shudder reaches up her spine and into her hands, clutching spasmodically at his shoulders accompanied by a weak little gasp, brought to stinging tears that she tries to blink back.

But this is Carl, who knows her better than she knows herself, leaning her back in his arms, across his lap, in his embrace, caressing her back as she starts to cry. "Shhhhh. Honey, nothing's going to hurt you. I won't hurt you. Well, not unless you ask nicely."

That produces a watery chuckle and she bites down on his shoulder playfully. "It's okay. You don't have to be nice to me. I...I know...I know you're just trying to make me feel better...and...and...that's sweet. You don't have to lie to me."

He growls softly. "Sweet. Sweet? You think I'm being sweet. Again. Stupid. I am not feeling sweet. I'm feeling ravenous."

"Well...ravage, why isn't there ripping yet?"

"You started to cry, doofus."

"Oh. Sorry. I do that."

"Me kissing you made you cry."

"I'm sorry. I'm no good at this."

"New rule. You're not allowed to talk. Or think. Only guttural noises or moans. Do you understand me? Maybe my name. If you can get it right."

She presses her lips together. "Check. No...um...talking."

He glares at her again and mutters the word "moron" under his breath before tearing the bodice of her dress clean through the front, yanking her forward and lowering his mouth to her breast, sucking her nipple deep into his mouth in a sudden, painful bloom of sensation.

She whimpers softly and said "Oh, God..."

His mouth is withdrawn and rains soft kisses on her nipple, whispering softly "Carl. My name is Carl. Use it."

"Carl..."

"Yes, Cyn."

Ripping the rest of her dress off her, he lays her on her back and wrenches his shirt and pants off with barely controlled violence and covers her with his body, grinding his hips into hers. His mouth teases hers into opening and his tongue delves into her mouth, wrenching little moans from her. He draws up her legs on either side of his hips and the only bit of clothing remaining on her is high heels on her perfect legs, the heels digging into the bed as her toes curl inside her shoes.

Looking down at her he smiles lazily and rolls over on his back beside her, drawing her up to lay on his chest, her back braced against him and his legs locking around hers, to spread her apart. His cock nestled and pulsing against her, his hands travel down her arms to capture her hands and put them where he wants them, one hand on her breast and the other on her clit, caressing softly.

Hands entwined, he guides her through pleasure, watching her breasts heave and kissing the back of her neck, waiting for her breath to grow hoarse and catch, for her legs to clutch around his for support and balance, arching back against him until he drives deep inside her and impales her, rolling her onto her stomach to a clenching orgasm. He braces his arms on either side of her and drives hard, lifting her hips until her feet, still in her shoes, are braced against his upper thighs. Leaning into the sharp pain of the heels, he grinds out his release inside her until they're both limp and trembling, gasps and sweat mingling on their skin and their mouths, twisted into a kiss until she's turned to face him, wrapping her arms around him.

His shoulders shudder and he buries his head in her throat, kissing at her damp skin and murmuring her name like a prayer or a blasphemy. Right now it's all the same to him, with her in his arms. As long as she stays there.

She holds his face in her hands and kisses him softly, then settles back to lay her head on his shoulder. "Carl?"

"Yes, Cyn?"

"We should have done this sooner."

"Yes, but you were being stupid."

"Fair enough. Carl?"

"Yes, Cyn?"

"Next time you know something important that I don't...tell me, okay?"

"From now on, I promise."

Recidiva
Recidiva
28 Followers
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3 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 17 years ago
predictable bullshit

absolute horrid.

CopyCarverCopyCarveralmost 18 years ago
Proactive hooray!

rg is right. Very few women can draw male characters so well. (Not a sexist comment-most men do worse with female characters.) I can't find a single thing to complain about, and I'm a notoriously tough grader.

rgraham666rgraham666almost 18 years ago
Nice little story

Sweet and hot at the same time.

I admire the male character, wish I could be so forthright.

Well done.

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