Romani Noor is an aspiring chemist- well, possible ex-chemist, after she can no longer afford the rise in her university tuition fees.
Her best friend and sister, Juno, is living across the country with her wife, sending Romani occasional cheques t...
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Slaters lips on mine are punishing, the possessive and restrictive way he holds my wrists beside me means he gets to take what he wants.
He sighs deeply into this kiss, like he'd been holding his breath this whole time and he can now finally release some tension.
I know it felt the same for me.
Our tears mingle on our cheeks, and he pushes himself into me, almost like we'd merge into one if he pushed hard enough.
The small whimper I let out is the only indication that he's pushing too hard. He loosens a little at the sound, but still holds my wrists firmly to restrict my movement.
He separates our lips and rests his forehead on mine, "I'm not trying to hurt you." He says, voice raw.
"I know." I tell him, resting my forehead against his in return.
"Show me how." He mutters, breath coming in ragged pants as his eyes move up to plead with mine.
He looked like a puppy like this.
A rottweiler puppy – but still.
I nod against him and try shifting my wrists in his tight grip.
They're still pinned tight to the wall, but he seems to understand what I want when he releases them and takes a step back from me.
He watches me silently, eyes dealing with serval conflicting feelings as I bring my wrists to my chest instinctively, the bruising pain simmering through the flesh.
There are red marks around them from where his brutal grip was, and his mouth stammers with unspoken words as he looks down at them.
"I'm-" He begins to say, but I shake my head softly, my hair falling around my face.
"It's okay." I cut him off gently, but he doesn't seem convinced.
Anger boils through him quickly, and I realise his temper is about to burst. Again.
I take a step towards him, and glance to his hands, "May I?" I nod.
The inferno in his eyes seems to pause momentarily at my request. He gives me a curt nod with a clenched jaw, giving me permission to touch him.
I reach out to softly grip his scarred hands. I realise now in a literal sense that he doesn't know how to be gentle, his hands are bruised and scarred from years of violence. Though now I know it may not have been consensual.
I bring his hand up to my face slowly, holding eye contact with him as he tracks my movements.
"Hold me here..." I tell him softly, putting his large palm on my cheek so he cups my face.
When I let go his hands curl around my head and jaw a little roughly, and I squint my eyes in a slight wince.
"Gentler." I tell him and his eyes twitch with the words, "Like this."
