Outlaw Star Fan Fiction ❯ Wide Scared Eyes ❯ Wid Scared Eyes ( One-Shot )

Wide Scared Eyes

I don't know why I did what I did. We had been paid to kidnap this girl who was the daughter of some enemy of our client. Her home was surprisingly heavily guarded, and harder to break into than imagined. But when I finally got to the girl, I couldn't take her. She was so innocent-looking and frightened. She reminded me of myself when he took over. So I let her go, and sacrificed myself to Ron's anger.

When I met up with Ron he steamed. His anger continued to rise until we got to the living quarters of our ship. Then he exploded in a jumble of words and fists.

That is where I am now. I don't dare ward off the punches. That will only make him madder. He is so much stronger than I that I know I have no chance against him if I fight back.

Finally, he backhands me hard enough to send me to the ground. I barely catch myself in time to avoid landing on my face. Submissively, I roll on my back, like a dog saying, "You're in charge." Ron gives me a feral sneer and walks to my side. I close my eyes in fear, trying to hold back tears. When a boot connects with my ribs, I attempt to curl into a protective ball, but his other foot drops onto my chest and holds me in place.

After a few blows, the pressure on my chest is removed, and Ron straddles my hips. Fearfully, I open my eyes to find Ron sneering at me as he pulls out a knife.

"You are so fucking worthless. I don't know why I had you made." The words ring in my ears. He always tells me that when he's pissed. I know he doesn't mean it, or at least I hope he doesn't. But it still hurts to hear that.

Suddenly I feel steel a sting across my chest, and I can't suppress a hiss of pain. I prepare myself for the unavoidable blow, but it doesn't come.

Hesitantly, I look up at Ron to see a face full of fear, concern, and confusion. I hear the knife clank on the floor, and his hand reaches toward me. One finger dabbles lightly in the blood on my chest, and he stares at it in horror.

It is always blood that brings him out of it. Always my crimson life that shakes him into reality. As I watch tears roll down his face, I know my physical pain has ended, but the mental pain has just begun.

Ron embraces me, whimpering apologies and insulting himself in my ear, and I wonder if he knows how empty the words are. I know he will do this again, but I can't do a thing.

I hug Ron in return and whisper forgiveness. I must do this because it hurts me to watch him cry.

"You know I love you Harry. Right?" he asks.

"Right. And I love you too," I reply, humoring him. In reality, I'm not sure if he loves me or not. Nor do I know if I love him. All I know is that we need each other.

Then I notice tears slipping down my face, and I sob. I don't understand anything. Why do I exist? Am I Ron's emotional outlet, born for him to punch, hate, love, and soothe? It makes no sense, but does life ever?

I feel Ron pulling me into his lap, and he holds my head to his chest. `I'm his doll,' I think to myself, as he rocks me. He leans his lips to my ear, and sings a soothing song to me. I sink into Ron, becoming one with him. He combs his fingers through my hair. My sobbing stops, and I savor the feeling of comfort in his arms. If I'm his doll, I could live like this.

He holds me for a long time, and I enjoy it. I don't understand why he can be so cruel one moment and so kind the next, but I am the same, so I can't complain. I try to forget that though, and only concentrate on his current kindness.

Unfortunately, my utopia is shattered as I feel wet warmth in my ear. His tongue. As always, he wants to do more than hold me. I'm scared, but I find the nibbles on my ear arousing at the same time.

How can someone beat me, yet give so much pleasure? I want to shout this at the top of my lungs in frustration, but I moan instead. Ron claims my mouth, caressing me roughly. I'm so confused I want to cry, but my body doesn't belong to me anymore.

I can feel him creeping into my mind…the other me, the one that pleases Ron. He lusts for battle, blood, and sex. He obeys Ron's every command, and knows what he wants without orders. He wraps my legs around Ron's hips, and wantonly thrusts my erect cock into him.

I don't think I want this, but I don't have a choice either. The leech in my mind wants it, so it has it. And I do the only thing I can. I ride the waves of pleasure. I don't think about the fact that I'm a scared child sharing my body with a homicidal psycho. I can't. I certainly don't think of the way I look at Melfina for help, and how he takes over and tries to hurt her. Instead, I concentrate on Ron's huge cock thrusting in and out of me with increasing speed.

It doesn't work. Even as I orgasm, spraying my seed on my stomach and the floor, I can hear him laughing cruelly at me. And I can see a little girl's wide, scared eyes mirroring my own.