Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Equation ❯ The Equation ( One-Shot )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

It is their last meeting.

Well, I was going for �cheer myself up with writing porn�, but it still came out horribly dark. Oh well� Sorry all my fandom lovers. I�ll get on writing some fanfiction soon, hopefully. I just really needed something original and dirty � I�m not really going for sexy here, so it doesn�t even have that going for it. There are no names, so feel free to fill in whatever names you wish. Also, this has no basis in real life. Just me being angsty. Some of the dialogue does come from some conversations I�ve had, but the plot isn�t based on that.

Just beware, there is no happy ending. Just like in life

Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 02.18.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 753 | Status: Completed

Title: The Equation

Author: hostilecrayon

Genre: Original, Dark Romance, Het

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 1,642

Disclaimer: I own it. Back off, yo.

Notes: Well, I was going for `cheer myself up with writing porn', but it still came out horribly dark. Oh well… Sorry all my fandom lovers. I'll get on writing some fanfiction soon, hopefully. I just really needed something original and dirty - I'm not really going for sexy here, so it doesn't even have that going for it. There are no names, so feel free to fill in whatever names you wish. Also, this has no basis in real life. Just me being angsty. Some of the dialogue does come from some conversations I've had, but the plot isn't based on that.

Just beware, there is no happy ending. Just like in life.

The Equation

It's dark. That's all she can really make out through the tiny windows in her run-down apartment. Not that it really matters. She knows he's coming - she doesn't need to be able to see outside to know that.

She wonders briefly if he's getting some sort of sick satisfaction by drawing out his departure like this. He could have just gone. He didn't need to tell her; to discuss it calmly with her as if it were the most rational thing in the world. They didn't work together, he'd said. Their encounters were a mistake, he'd said. The best way for her to move past him was for him to remove himself from the equation.

She couldn't agree with him less.

She hears the keys jingling in the lock - even now, he doesn't have the decency to knock first - and she runs her fingers through her already frazzled bangs for the hundredth time.

The door swings open and he calls her name. She takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the sound of his keys clanging against his rings. She doesn't know what to say, so she says nothing, just peering at him from her place at the kitchen table that is crammed precariously on the other side of the room.

He crosses the living room slowly, and she is curious if he is doing it to taunt her or if he is having regrets. She'll never know, of course, because once he's made his mind up on something, he sticks with it, no matter how much evidence that he is wrong is thrown at him. He's stubborn like that, and she vaguely recalls a time when she thought it was an endearing quality.

“I'm leaving tomorrow,” he says unnecessarily. It was one of the things they had talked about when he told her he was going to cut off contact with her. She even knows where he is going. It doesn't matter. After tonight, she will never see him again. She nods solemnly and he almost looks surprised that she isn't protesting again, but she just doesn't have the fight left in her to do so.

He calls her name again, softly this time, but she refuses to look at him. She doesn't want to see his face. He knows what he is doing to her, and he simply doesn't care. Why should she grace him with a look? But when his fingers wrap around her chin and pull her face up to meet his gaze, there isn't much she can do to look away. Still, she tries.

“Look at me,” he says gently.

“Why should I?” she murmurs, tears welling in her eyes, but she complies anyway.

“You know this is best,” he begins, but she has already begun to tune him out. She doesn't know this is best. And she doesn't care. If he's going to go, he should just leave. Why talk one last time?

He is still talking, but her eyes have long since glazed over, tears spilling down her already red cheeks.

“Damn it, I can see you shutting me out. Don't hide from me.”

She speaks for the first time, her voice small and broken in the thick air. “Why shouldn't I? You certainly see it fit to run and hide.”

“This will be better for you in the end. You can get over me, move on…”

But she doesn't want to hear it. “No! This will be better for you. You're running. You accuse me of hiding, but when you do it, you sure go all out.”

“Fuck, you…” he begins, but he takes a deep breath and starts again. “Look, I don't want to fight with you. I know you won't agree with me right now, but you'll see.”

“Yeah,” she says sharply, “because you're the be-all-end-all of making things right with the universe. You can't even own up to your own feelings, let alone able to predict mine.”

He sighs, letting his hand fall free of her face and she immediately rubs away the feeling of his fingers on her jaw. “This is exactly why it would never work. All we ever do is fight.”

“You insist on fighting with me. And you never gave it a chance to work.”

“I told you, I don't feel that way.”

“Whatever. It doesn't matter now.”

He sighs again, more heavily this time. “I hate it when you say that. You know that.” She doesn't grace him with a response. “Look, we'll probably still have some contact through the internet, so it's not like I'm disappearing completely…” He stops abruptly when he sees the tears flowing freely from her eyes.

“Don't bother,” she whispers. “You're the one running away. No need to bother with me anymore.”

He is stuck between anger and concern as she openly weeps, and instead of speaking again, he gathers her up in his arms and just holds her while she cries. Against her better judgment, her hands curl around his shirt and holds on like it's the end of the world.

To her, it is.

They stand there for what feels like hours before she pulls back, her eyes glittering with tears as she attempts to look him in the eye. She wants to say something; anything that would break this horrible moment between them, but she can think of nothing, and even in her haze of pain, she can feel lust hovering just below the surface.

She'll never see him again, and though she knows she shouldn't, it doesn't seem to matter much when there are no longer consequences.

She kisses him.

He resists ever so slightly, but perhaps he also realizes that this would be their last meeting, and so he gives in, returning the kiss that she has filled to the brim with her passion for him.

The evidence of his excitement over this particular kiss is hard to hide when it is pressed firmly against her.

He pulls away suddenly and mutters something like, “I don't think this is a good idea…” but the nibble she administers to his lower lips turns it into a low groan, and before she knows it, she's pressed against the kitchen wall, his nimble fingers undoing her bra.

There would be no just this side of romantic moments here, and she is well aware of that fact. But still, if hard and fast was all she could get out of him, she would take it. She loves him too much not to.

His hands slide up under her shirt, and she raises her arms so he can pull it off, along with the unclipped bra. Tears are still leaking from her eyes, but she is prepared to give this last rendezvous everything she has as she pushes his leather jacket from his shoulders.

She's shaking, and it hinders her ability to release him from his usual button up shirt, but she manages, and for the first time, she curses his need to wear three layers of clothes. She all but rips the long sleeve undershirt off of him, desperate to run her fingers along his smooth skin.

He bites her neck just a little too hard - he always was too rough for her - but she ignores it, busying her hands with undoing his oversized belt buckle. She drops to her knees, too impatient to wait for him to be naked, and pulls his cock out through the front of his pants. She'd rather make this last, but she knows he doesn't want it to, and so she engulfs him, her lips sliding almost to the base.

He groans, grabbing for the counter to keep himself steady. The other hand he buries in her hair and he thrusts eagerly into her mouth. She fights her gag reflex and slides her tongue across his shaft the best she can at the frantic pace he's set.

It doesn't take him long to pull out of her mouth, helping her back up to pin her against the wall again. He quickly removes her pants and pushes his own down to his knees.

There's nothing gentle about the way he thrusts into her, and she bites her lip to keep the cry of pain from leaving her throat. She grips his shoulders as he pounds her into the wall, and she's almost certain she'll have bruises tomorrow. Still, she moans in encouragement, lifting her left leg to wrap around his torso as he continues to fuck her like she is a piece of meat. His fingers gripping her hips nearly break the skin as he comes, and she whispers his name softly in his ear as he grows soft.

She does not come.

He kisses her one more time, somewhat coldly, and stalks off to the bathroom, retrieving his clothes as he goes. She slouches against the wall for a moment, the tears once again flowing freely. She puts her clothes back on, falling into the kitchen chair that she had been in when he had entered, and waits.

She can hear his keys again as he approaches, and he presses the key to her meager apartment into her hand. He rubs her head and opens his mouth to speak, but there isn't anything to say, so he turns and walks to the door.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I know,” he says, and she is startled. She didn't know he could hear her. “That's why I have to go.”

Their eyes meet one final time before he looks away, and then he is gone.

She sits quietly in the uncomfortable chair and wonders if she has a kitchen knife sharp enough to end her pain once and for all.

He is wrong. She won't get over him.

When you are the problem, the only thing to do is remove yourself from the equation.