Post by Artemis Zeal on Apr 5, 2010 20:13:29 GMT -6
(this isn't Harry Potter related,but I was itching to post it up here. It's...a tad dark, but I hope you like it! 
)
The young blonde woman waved goodbye to her best friend as she stepped out of the elevator. She had gotten out of work late and the halls were dark and utterly devoid of human life as she strolled down them toward her own small, one-bedroom apartment.
She was just reaching for her keys when two strong, pale arms reached up to encircle her waist. Almost immediately, she stiffened.
"Miss me?" His suaveness sent an undesirable shiver on its' way up her spine and she had to fight the urge to simply melt into those strong arms. It was so much easier than resisting . . . she had already learned that.
However, she wasn't going to give it to him. She was tired of being just a plaything. Summoning all the courage – or perhaps it was recklessness – that she knew she possessed . . . somewhere she turned herself to face the speaker. Her blue eyes met his own dark orbs – bottomless pits that held so many dark and horrifying secrets. It was the thought of those secrets that sent a second tremor through her body.
"Not in the slightest," she retorted, barely keeping the note of fear from her voice. His lips twitched before melding seamlessly into a cool smirk. Fuck. He had caught her.
"Ah, of course not," he breathed, leaning forward. Nodding abruptly as if to signal the end of their conversation, the girl broke from his arms, walking down the hall once more, unsteady on her three-inch heels.
"Not when you have that Michael boy." His words were soft but they echoed around the dim hallway for what seemed like ages.
She couldn't help it, she froze, her blue eyes wide in fear. How does he know about Michael? She was suddenly grateful that her back was to him – usually such a dangerous move – yet she could imagine his self-satisfied smirk all the same, seeing that he had gotten to her.
Fighting to keep her face expressionless, she turned to face him once more. Yes, there was that smirk she had known would be there. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that she knew him so well.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said coolly, wincing as the words came flying out of her mouth. She knew it was a bad idea to lie to him; he always seemed to know when she was lying. She closed her eyes, awaiting what was to come.
A forceful hand reached out to grab her chin and she couldn't help but flinch as he tipped her head up to face his . . . with those black eyes that haunted her dreams.
"Tut, tut, Victoria, you know better than to lie to me. I am so disappointed in you." He spoke mockingly, shaking his head, his smooth, black curls bouncing with him. She remembered the first time she had met him, how she had been so entranced by every aspect of him, particularly those curls. He had seemed a dark Gabriel at the time.
But no – dark or not – he was certainly no angel.
As if to prove this point, she felt herself slammed against the wall, those same powerful arms holding her in place, making escape impossible. She cried out in pain, but a fierce glare silenced her. She knew what would happen if someone came running. . . .
His black eyes glittered with anger as he leaned still closer, putting barely an inch between them. "You will never see that filthy bastard again. Do you hear me?" he hissed.
"You can't tell me what to do, Marcus." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
SLAP!
A sharp pain exploded on the right side of her face as he slapped her; the tears that she had been fighting so fiercely spilled down her cheeks. Meeting Marcus's eyes, she did not see remorse or even pity – merely pure and unadulterated pleasure.
"You know very well I can tell you what to do, Victoria," he growled, one strong hand grasping her chin, hard enough to leave marks. She cried and struggled – exactly what she knew he wanted – but to no avail.
"It's no use, Victoria. You should know by now that I can do whatever. I. Want." Trailing one finger softly down her cheek, he crushed his lips harshly against hers.
Victoria's scream of protest was muffled as he pressed her still harder against the wall, twining his fingers into her blond hair, pulling at it as she groaned with pleasure. She whimpered as she felt a few of them part company with her scalp.
Bored with merely caressing her lips, Marcus forced her lips open and began his attack anew on her mouth. His tongue moved deftly around her mouth, exploring every depth and crevasse with the air of one who has done this many times before. Pushing one last time against his hard, muscular chest, Victoria allowed herself to go limp. She heard Marcus laugh, the sound reverberating inside her own mouth. Yes, this was what he wanted alright.
She simply stood, a limp rag doll, as he began to trail kisses across her jawline and collarbone, down her neck. . . . Victoria was forced to grab a handful of Marcus's shirt, struggling to keep from moaning aloud. She would not give him that pleasure. After what seemed like forever, he finally pulled away, letting her drop to the floor on trembling legs.
"Never forget that you are mine," he whispered, bending down so as to be on level with her, lust clouding his black eyes. "Only mine. Remember that." A smile lit his pale features as still more tears cascaded down the woman's cheeks.
Of course, she thought bitterly, watching his retreating form, like you'll ever let me forget.
It seemed to take forever until Marcus finally disappeared into the darkness, yet Victoria was not enveloped by the feeling of safety as she usually was, but was seized by a much darker impulse. She had the urge to run after him, find him – not for any sexual pleasure, but to hurt . . . allow him to feel just a small amount of the pain she felt after each and every one of these nighttime visits.
She did none of these things, however, but instead fumbled with her keys once more. Grasping them with slightly shaking hands, she pushed open the door to her apartment and, without bothering to turn on any of the lights, collapsed, allowing the darkness to overcome her. . . .
)The young blonde woman waved goodbye to her best friend as she stepped out of the elevator. She had gotten out of work late and the halls were dark and utterly devoid of human life as she strolled down them toward her own small, one-bedroom apartment.
She was just reaching for her keys when two strong, pale arms reached up to encircle her waist. Almost immediately, she stiffened.
"Miss me?" His suaveness sent an undesirable shiver on its' way up her spine and she had to fight the urge to simply melt into those strong arms. It was so much easier than resisting . . . she had already learned that.
However, she wasn't going to give it to him. She was tired of being just a plaything. Summoning all the courage – or perhaps it was recklessness – that she knew she possessed . . . somewhere she turned herself to face the speaker. Her blue eyes met his own dark orbs – bottomless pits that held so many dark and horrifying secrets. It was the thought of those secrets that sent a second tremor through her body.
"Not in the slightest," she retorted, barely keeping the note of fear from her voice. His lips twitched before melding seamlessly into a cool smirk. Fuck. He had caught her.
"Ah, of course not," he breathed, leaning forward. Nodding abruptly as if to signal the end of their conversation, the girl broke from his arms, walking down the hall once more, unsteady on her three-inch heels.
"Not when you have that Michael boy." His words were soft but they echoed around the dim hallway for what seemed like ages.
She couldn't help it, she froze, her blue eyes wide in fear. How does he know about Michael? She was suddenly grateful that her back was to him – usually such a dangerous move – yet she could imagine his self-satisfied smirk all the same, seeing that he had gotten to her.
Fighting to keep her face expressionless, she turned to face him once more. Yes, there was that smirk she had known would be there. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that she knew him so well.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said coolly, wincing as the words came flying out of her mouth. She knew it was a bad idea to lie to him; he always seemed to know when she was lying. She closed her eyes, awaiting what was to come.
A forceful hand reached out to grab her chin and she couldn't help but flinch as he tipped her head up to face his . . . with those black eyes that haunted her dreams.
"Tut, tut, Victoria, you know better than to lie to me. I am so disappointed in you." He spoke mockingly, shaking his head, his smooth, black curls bouncing with him. She remembered the first time she had met him, how she had been so entranced by every aspect of him, particularly those curls. He had seemed a dark Gabriel at the time.
But no – dark or not – he was certainly no angel.
As if to prove this point, she felt herself slammed against the wall, those same powerful arms holding her in place, making escape impossible. She cried out in pain, but a fierce glare silenced her. She knew what would happen if someone came running. . . .
His black eyes glittered with anger as he leaned still closer, putting barely an inch between them. "You will never see that filthy bastard again. Do you hear me?" he hissed.
"You can't tell me what to do, Marcus." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
SLAP!
A sharp pain exploded on the right side of her face as he slapped her; the tears that she had been fighting so fiercely spilled down her cheeks. Meeting Marcus's eyes, she did not see remorse or even pity – merely pure and unadulterated pleasure.
"You know very well I can tell you what to do, Victoria," he growled, one strong hand grasping her chin, hard enough to leave marks. She cried and struggled – exactly what she knew he wanted – but to no avail.
"It's no use, Victoria. You should know by now that I can do whatever. I. Want." Trailing one finger softly down her cheek, he crushed his lips harshly against hers.
Victoria's scream of protest was muffled as he pressed her still harder against the wall, twining his fingers into her blond hair, pulling at it as she groaned with pleasure. She whimpered as she felt a few of them part company with her scalp.
Bored with merely caressing her lips, Marcus forced her lips open and began his attack anew on her mouth. His tongue moved deftly around her mouth, exploring every depth and crevasse with the air of one who has done this many times before. Pushing one last time against his hard, muscular chest, Victoria allowed herself to go limp. She heard Marcus laugh, the sound reverberating inside her own mouth. Yes, this was what he wanted alright.
She simply stood, a limp rag doll, as he began to trail kisses across her jawline and collarbone, down her neck. . . . Victoria was forced to grab a handful of Marcus's shirt, struggling to keep from moaning aloud. She would not give him that pleasure. After what seemed like forever, he finally pulled away, letting her drop to the floor on trembling legs.
"Never forget that you are mine," he whispered, bending down so as to be on level with her, lust clouding his black eyes. "Only mine. Remember that." A smile lit his pale features as still more tears cascaded down the woman's cheeks.
Of course, she thought bitterly, watching his retreating form, like you'll ever let me forget.
It seemed to take forever until Marcus finally disappeared into the darkness, yet Victoria was not enveloped by the feeling of safety as she usually was, but was seized by a much darker impulse. She had the urge to run after him, find him – not for any sexual pleasure, but to hurt . . . allow him to feel just a small amount of the pain she felt after each and every one of these nighttime visits.
She did none of these things, however, but instead fumbled with her keys once more. Grasping them with slightly shaking hands, she pushed open the door to her apartment and, without bothering to turn on any of the lights, collapsed, allowing the darkness to overcome her. . . .
