𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒅 𝑶𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔

Pathetic - Part Two

WARNING: This chapter contains degradation, choking, sadism, and Spencer kinda taking advantage of somebody's fragile state so please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable.

With trembling steps and crystal cloaked eyes y/n walked towards where Spencer stood, honey tinted hickory curls glimmering oh so effortlessly in the brutal glare of the hall lights, eyes that shone like priceless gold, vines of veridian and bronze creeping like veins. Features still sharp, magnificent yet this time they appeared more daunting, a godlessness replacing the sensual, passionate expression that had been playing in y/n's mind since the night before.

Her voice wavered before a single note could so much as slip past her painted lips, throat already constricting each shaking breath that tried to pass through. She knew he was aware of her presence, yet he remained focused on the board before him, shoulders tense and muscles rigid as he scribbled hypothesis upon the crowded blackboard before him. His hands flexed around the chalk, veins protruding from his painful grasp. His tongue sliding across his lips, a tool that could be used to bring such immeasurable pleasure, so much untamable bliss yet with a sharp mind and a silver-tongue he could bring even more pain.

Dangerous like a thorn amongst the most divine rose, enticing you with its magnificent scarlet grandeur, such effortless grace and radiance that it distracted you from the barbaric blade as it sliced your fingertips and made you weep the same sacred scarlet as that of its silken calyxes.

And yet his lips still gleamed in a soft rouge, so lustrous and enticing, like the petals of the flower that lured you in before it struck. But the pain was so bittersweet, so agonizing yet so delectable, drowning you in masochistic pleasure, suffocating, choking you, yet you would become so high on the lightness in your head and rush in your veins that you would touch it again. And again. And again, until the lines between pain and pleasure blurred and there was nothing but red. Lights, skin, lips, eyes, everything the same devilish hue, such a sensual yet cruel shade, captivating and ominous all at once.

"Spen-, Professor, Could I speak with you a moment?" Y/n spoke quietly, eyes brimming with tears for no real reason, her heart aching from a pain she hadn't yet felt. Her chest pounded and tears prickled at her eyes from the haunting memories of the night before, so epicurean, so carnal, yet so harrowing, torturous. How could a night of meaningless pleasure have grabbed such a tight hold on her heart? She knew she was a rebound, the violence in his actions making it clear enough, so why did her soul crumble when he whispered another name, how his hands moved expectantly over her body, wishing there was something different there, someone different.

Y/n had convinced herself for a moment, a sporadic anomaly within her mind, that perhaps he did feel something other than momentary attraction, that maybe his heart ached alongside hers. But she didn't realize something until it was too late, until her heart had already grasped a hold of the frail threads of affection. What she didn't realize was that the adoration she had persuaded herself to feel from him, wasn't real, that love didn't manifest itself in panting breaths and animalistic desire. His actions were nothing more than desperate divulgence, a way to satiate the ache deep within him.

"Of course, I don't think I caught your name?" He lied through gritted teeth, cheeks aflame and eyes blazing. Y/n's eyes shattered like glass, Spencer's fragmented reflection shining back at him in thousands of crystal shards, a broken gaze that cut deep into his own.

"Really? Are you just going to pretend like last night never happened?" Rage bubbled in her throat, why was she so angry, so heartbroken, so desperate for his touch again after nothing but a single night? It confused her beyond belief, adding to the overwhelming flood of emotions that ravaged at her mind in that moment.

"Don't be childish y/n, you sound pathetic groveling like that" His words held the same biting tone as that from the night before, as his lips brushed her ear and filthy words spilled from his sharp tongue. His voice may have been rough, degrading, but with each cruel word he pulled her in again. Spencer placed the chalk back down on the oaken table, oblivious to how it rolled off the table and marked the rugged carpet beneath them. His breath was deep, steady as he approached y/n face stoic and eyes gleaming with the same sadistic spark she had seen for nothing but a fraction of a second beforehand.