Natural Selection (Elijah Kamski x Reader)

Preordained Position (NSFW)

*Graphic NSFW content (F/F & M/F)

*Trigger Warning - Extremely dubious consent/noncon themes

You weren't entirely sure what to expect walking into your home after being away without contact for so long. It had been like a forced vacation that was constantly interrupted by guilt instead of calls from work, and you couldn't really say you felt recharged. You shut the door behind you, blinking wildly at the shards of glass crunching beneath your boots. It was a frightening scene – all the pictures that'd proudly been displayed on your walls now shattered and lying out on a red carpet of broken memories.

"Elijah?" You let out a small, nervous call.

As you walked closer to the living room, a certain thumping rang through the silence. You dismissed it as the washer, or dryer...surprised he'd actually know how to use either...and your eyes landed on a cutting board with freshly cut vegetables. You smiled at that, remembering how the two of you loved to cook together and how the apartment in Colbridge used to smell on Sunday mornings. A good memory.

One that was quickly ruined by an outstretched hand grasping at the counter above the cutting board, and a delighted moan escaping a female mouth.

You rounded the corner. Any ounce of warmth or happiness was replaced  with the sounds of a standardized RT600 getting pounded while bent over the counter, knife still in hand, obviously interrupted.

Elijah barely acknowledged you were there.

He didn't stop. He kept going, sliding in and out of her, one fist full of her hair, the other on her waist to keep her in place. She stared blankly at the wall, while he was fixated on watching his work. The sounds were wet and smacking. One of her breasts slipped out of her shirt as  he adjusted himself. Put both her hands flat on the counter, spread her legs with his foot, and used both arms to pull at her waist as he fucked her harder.

Something about the way she held on to the knife made you uneasy. You recalled a time when you raised  your own blade to him, and how little it took to get you there.

Regardless, you weren't sure you'd be upset if she cut him. You started planning your escape immediately. He was not well in the mind, and neither were you. You suddenly felt naïve and stupid and all the other things he called you in the recent past. What did you expect to come out of this reunion?

Still, Anthony had just dropped you off. You couldn't call him...couldn't give up what little dignity you still had after what he'd already done for you. Not after you'd embarrassed yourself like that. Come what may, you'd deal with it like you dealt with anything else leading up to this – stuffing it so far down that you could lie to yourself enough to justify it.

You took a deep breath and adjusted the strap on your shoulder, stepping over an empty beer box on the floor, making your way towards the bedroom. You'd lock yourself in there for awhile and turn up the TV...loud.

"And where do you think you're going?" Elijah asked between ragged breaths.

You stopped, turning to face him. He was looking at you now, anger in his eyes, and not much else. He kept going like it was normal to fuck a robot while talking to your wife. Maybe that was the new normal.

"Come here." He demanded.

A command that he expected you to follow with obedience. Your eyes lowered to the view of him, entering her, pulling out, stuck on repeat. Thought about how long it'd been since you felt good. Felt a real release that didn't end with a $100+ tab or a hangover. Imagined yourself in her place. Thought about how fucked up it was that you had to, because what kind of man would sit here, doing this, instead of looking for his missing, "pregnant" wife.