Janthony fanfics

Contradiction

"I don't know, Pippa ... I mean, I love him, of course I do, but sometimes he treats me like a porcelain doll." I sigh, shoulders slumping.

It was six in the evening on a Friday. I had the house to myself for the weekend, and Anthony was out with Daveed . I lay on my back, a bowl of grapes balancing on my stomach as I lamented to Pippa about my sex life over the phone.

"So he's boring?"

"No!" I defended him automatically, before pausing to think. "Okay, maybe he's a little boring, but it's because he doesn't want to hurt me. He's very... sweet, you know?"

"Have you tried telling him to be a bit... rougher?" Phillipa giggled.

I laughed, too. "No way. It might hurt his feelings," I sighed. "I'm just tired of having to fake orgasms, you know? I know I should talk to him about it, but, like, what if he doesn't know how to? What if he only has one speed or something?"

Phillipa was laughing pretty hard by now. "Oh God. Okay. Wow. I'm dying." Her sentences were punctuated by laughs. I muttered a few "shut up"'s, but I was kind of laughing myself.

"I'm not surprised, to be honest. Anthony's always seemed pretty vanilla." I sighed, my shoulders slumping.

"Vanilla as hell," I agreed, then sighed. "I don't want to be made love to. I just want to be used, damnit."

"Oh really?" Came a voice from the doorway. I sat up quickly, knocking the bowl of grapes to the floor.

"Oh," I whispered, my eyes wide. "you're home,"

God, I was lame.

And, judging from the look on his face, I was also in trouble.

Anthony didn't look amused. At all. He walked towards me, jaw clenched, eyes blazing and grabbed the phone I still had in my hand.

"Jasmine's kind of busy right now. She'll call you back tomorrow. If she hasn't lost her voice by then."

I was too worried to worry about exactly what that meant. Shit, he was going to get upset.

He hangs up, dropping the phone onto the couch.

And all I can think of is shit he heard me calling him boring in bed.

I figure an endless stream of apologies is the way to go, because I can see the anger on his face and I know he's not fucking around.

"Anthony , I'm sorr-"

"When I get into that bedroom-" he points upstairs, towards my room, "I want you naked, and on your hands and knees. Is that fucking clear?"

Holy fuck.

"Yes," I manage to say, not questioning it, but he cocks an eyebrow, and I amend it to "yes, sir", just because it feels right, my panties getting a little wetter as I do so.

I stand, trying my best not to run to my room. I manage a fast walk. To say I'm kind of scared is an understatement. I've never seen him this mad before; and, evidently, he's going to work out his anger on me.

I repeat: holy fuck.

My dress is pulled up over my head and hitting the floor the second I walk into my room. I toy with the thought of leaving my underwear on for a while, just to make him even madder, but decide against it, unclasping my bra and pulling off my panties.

My teeth wedged in my bottom lip, I go to sit on the bed, just as he's walking in.

His eyes trail over me once, and folds his arms. "Pretty sure I told you to be on your hands and knees when I got in here, jasmine ,"