Inell's Fanfiction Archive

She closes her eyes and ignores the pain as he shoves her against the wall. Her shirt is damp and rips as it rubs against the rough brick behind her back. She's standing in a puddle, can feel water soaking into the soles of her trainers, and she idly wonders if they'll dry or if she'll have to get a new pair.

His hands grip her hips tightly, and she knows what she will see when she stumbles back to her flat. Blue and black, shades of yellow and purple. Colors look amazing on pale skin and she finds herself fascinated by them long after he's slid out of her and his come has dried on her upper thighs.

He thrusts too fast, too hard, and he never looks at her. His spectacles fall to the end of his nose, his fringe covers the scar on his forehead, and he bites his lip until it bleeds, but he never looks at her. With her eyes closed, Luna can believe he's staring at her with a look of love and affection. She can believe he looks at her tenderly, that this is just an exception to the normal gentle caresses, does not have to face the reality that it is never her he's fucking.

After he comes, he slides out and tucks himself into his trousers. Most the time, she never comes. It's not about her, after all. It's always about him. The smell of Firewhisky is thick on his breath when he tries to kiss her, and he tastes of peppermint and liquor as his tongue sloppily slides along her chapped her lips. He mumbles an apology and slinks out of the alley, never looking back.

Luna straightens her clothes and looks at her shoes. They'll be able to dry so she won't need a new pair. Her gaze looks up at the sky and she sighs. She doesn't ask for much. She just wants someone to call her an angel, to look at her the way he does when her eyes are closed and she's lost in what might be instead of facing what actually is.