[A little note: I toyed with the idea of doing a fight then make-up nsfw scene for Zig and Dia for a long time but I could never quite get it the way I wanted to. I also wanted it without dialogue, just as a challenge for myself].
[Summary: When Zig and MC uses words as sharp edges to hurt each other, they are usually explosive – angry and dangerous. But sometimes, their fights can turn into the nearly opposite effect. ]
There is silence in between the deep breaths and tension that oozes from every gesture, every non-committal sigh and every curt remark. A seething silence of almost bitter intent that speaks louder than the ticking of the near-by clock and the blasts of street cars from the window of her apartment.
When they speak again, venom seeps into every word. Fueling resentment that stirs the air and seems to shake the very foundation of their relationship. Partnership, co-dependency – complicated convictions which doesn’t truly define what they are.
The tension boils and builds. It leads to aloof body language and intolerant mutters; flushed cheeks and heated glares that seems to nearly sear their flesh. It is all apart of the problem; and the lackadaisical grievances over the course of months blends together in singular memories.
Finally the storm hits; threatening the quiet resilience of their relationship. A calamity in the making that spirals them into more shouting than speaking, and the overbearing flare of budding tempers has ignited more than either one is prepared for.
Their gestures between each other have become angry and quick. Her hands have formed tiny fists that raps against his chest, while his remain tightly clenched by his sides and the rest of him tenses with standoffish rage. Both exchange ugly words, and clash together with tendencies they have repeatedly shown, whenever the dam is too full and threatens to break.
She clutches the anger; sees red when they have finally reached to screaming. Adrenaline fuels her as she inclines her head and glares; sinking further into painful outrage. Adrenaline seizes him and he refuses to back down; his lips turning into a resentful sneer.
With desperate hands, they both shove and shove, neither one backing down and neither one showing any complacency. Her fingernails scrape against the planes of his arms, and his larger ones are not gentle when they grab her shoulders.
Their illusion shatters; the image they have spent months cultivating has increasingly become compromised. The illusion that love conquers every problem while in truth it doesn’t bare the weight of certainty. And it certainly doesn’t eliminate the bad nights such as tonight.
Looking inside his dark eyes; she still sees the small angry child he’s spent his life avoiding. The kid he shoves so deep and pretends otherwise that he isn’t affected by the loss of his dad. The kid that’s never had the time to grieve. The kid who’s never gotten a chance to bury this indisputable anger. The disgruntled teenager and his penchant for trouble resurfaces; fist fights and cigarettes that attests as patterns of coping. These are the parts of himself which threatens to explode.
Looking inside her expressive blue eyes; he sees her shutting down in front of him. The way those cool frigid arctics have began glazing over after nearly twenty minutes of arguing. He sees the familiar slump of her shoulders as she begins her steady retreat; burying herself so deeply that she has started pretending she can no longer hear him. The little girl that lost her brother and never forgave herself from it resurfaces. The pouty and broody teenager that rebelled against most figures of authority and sabotaged all her relationships flashes. Reverting back to the old her; the parts she’s always hated. These are the parts of herself which threatens to explode.
Their screams eventually dissipate into silence until they are aware again of the sound of cars below and the ticking clock that beats in rhythm with their heartbeats. They stare at each other with a mixture of exasperation – pain, hate, love, and regret.
Then suddenly they are moving again. Closing the final distances the room represents until they are nearly stumbling to catch each other.
Her hands are impatient as they grip his favorite tee, yanking it over his head. His arm encircles her waist with an urgency while his other fluidly hitches her tank from across her shoulders. Together their agile hands knows exactly how fast to go, and resonates their breakneck speed. Damaging the clasps of her bra; his hands are faster than hers to remove these barriers in their fleeting frenzy. When they slam together – almost skin against skin, he presses her along the cool texture of the wall. His lips are rough, just the way she likes them. Invading her personal senses and causing explosions to reverberate inside her head. His kisses are invasive, and his hands grip the side of her face while they continue their relentless pursuit. They leave her breathless as he explores her with his tongue; darting in and out.
They don’t waste anytime with shedding the rest. Under garments have been carelessly tossed aside in a sensuous flurry of movements. Her hands finally have enough strength to shove him back, until she nearly tackles him and knocks over her lamp, before he places her roughly on top of her dresser. They switch motions and fasten inside his hair while his roams across the softness of her back.
She’s impatient for more. He’s impatient to give her more.
Her eyes are almost accusatory as she shifts her legs and entwines them around his hips; pressing firmly against his length until he fumbles to grip the side of her dresser.
Losing his balance, they stagger and fall until they land across the soft plushness of her carpet. Neither of them are perturbed by the mess left in their briskness as they roll over; trying to gain the upper hand over the other. His back smacks into furniture and they are only dimly aware of glass shattering.
His hands delve between her thighs and she moans inside his ear when she feels his fingers finally brush her center. It is a sound that pleases him; fuels fresh desire to his groin and causes his heart to erratically beat in rhythm with his expert exploring. His lips crash against her hot and waiting mouth. He kisses her ruthlessly, coaxing her mouth further. Her moans of pleasure have dwindled into soft whimpers when he slips three fingers inside.
He’s gained the upper-hand again and relishes the sound of her coming undone with his incessant strokes. He retrieves his hand to run them through her pale hair, basking in the steamy gazes of raw satisfaction. He applies pressure until she tilts her chin to meet his expectant lips, once again claiming hers. Until she hisses and bites down wickedly, drawing blood from his bottom lip.
She forces his hand back in between her thighs, and shifts to meet his ardent fingers with the rise and fall of her hips. Their rhythm is fast, as is their growing impatience for each other. Half-hooded, he watches the pleasure on her face; exciting his own need to bury himself inside her. Her stomach burns with the same longing; lust and frustration mingles together until they can’t be told apart.
He clasps her hands above her head, stopping her from throwing them around his neck before she can think better of it. She closes her eyes when she feels his coarse lips to her jaw; trailing downward kisses that sends hot shivers down her spine. Her breath hitches when he bites into her shoulder and she can barely resist an inaudible moan.
Their earlier fight nearly forgotten, she whimpers again, until he inexorably recedes and ends his seductive torture. With a grunt, he hooks an arm under her leg and finally sinks into her.
She doesn’t know whose screaming louder – him or her; their cries have mingled and blends inside her ears. In unison, they rock back and forth, quickly picking up speed to match the sound of their heavy breaths.
There is no patience in their passionate impulses to reach the highest peak. It’s only a matter of time until they both feel it. The inexplicable connection that has kept them together for so long. The chemical reactions which sizzles together whenever they are alone.
She buries her head into the crook of his shoulder as his hips gather momentum, until he’s nearly slamming into her with need. This isn’t about love, this isn’t about hate – it’s about pleasure; taking what each wants without asking.
His hands by her waist tighten, turning white and bites into her flesh while her fingers have made tiny rakes across the smooth planes of his chest. When they let go, the only shred of emotion left behind are ones of pure exhaustion.