Devour

"I hate you," Marilyn snarled through his teeth as he held me pinned to the ground, a phrase he seemed set on repeating as many times possible during this fight we were trapped in.
"I should've never come back when I left you!" I growled back, knowing it was an easy way to win this fight. His grip on me faltered slightly, his gaze becoming glassy and I took the opportunity to flip us over, getting him pinned before he could regain control over his emotions.
"You're right," he agreed quietly, his voice dripping in pain. My leaving was still a soft subject for him, and he still completely blamed himself for my five weeks of absence that we had managed to keep out of the news.
I looked down at him, his sad, beautiful eyes, his soft lips, the way he felt pinned beneath me, his body completely at my mercy; he was so enticing.
"You easily distracted bastard," Marilyn chuckled, his eyes slipping down to my crotch.
"Fuck you," I said trying, and failing, to sound angry. My lips slipped into a smile and Marilyn burst out laughing.
"I love you, idiot," I murmured, nuzzling his neck.
"I know," he said smugly. I pulled back and glared at him.
"I love you, too, asshole," he laughed, his smile lighting up the otherwise dim room, lit only by the fireplace.
"WE'RE COMING IN AND WE HAVE FOOD!" John yelled as he unlocked the door, Marilyn and I both jumping to our feet.
"Holy shit, what happened to the family room?" Ginger asked in awe as he surveyed the room: a beat up couch, pillows all over, an overturned vase, objects strewn over the floor.
"We had a fight," Marilyn shrugged, John gaping at the usually well kept (thanks to him) family room.
"Weren't you guys supposed to be on a date until ten?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, well, we got kicked out," John muttered, his mind probably on cleaning the room.
"I'm not going to ask," Marilyn said mainly to himself as he grabbed the box out of Ginger's hand and opened it.
"I am," I said eagerly, it was most likely a good story.
"You guys went to that really fancy restaurant that's lit only by candles and fireplaces that I said I was going to try with Twiggy first!" Marilyn accused, a piece of steak on its way to his mouth.
"DON'T EXPLAIN!" I shouted as Ginger opened his mouth. John on date night with Ginger who was dumb enough to take him to an all firelight restaurant, no explanation was wanted. John and his candles...
"Candles were everywhere, man!" John said exasperated, obviously feeling guilty for making Ginge leave early.
"HOLY FUCK this is delicious steak!" Marilyn said suddenly, his face contorted and eyes wide.
"Give me that!" Ginger snapped, snatching the box from Marilyn.
"Oh, and, don't worry about it, love," Ginger said softly to John, Marilyn shrugging as he walked over to wrap his arms around my waist. I leaned into his touch, a smile tugging at my lips.
"You guys are so cute together!" I said, they hated it when people commented on their relationship.
"Well, you have a fucked up relationship!" John snapped, Ginger just backing up a bit.
"At least we can go to restaurants with candles!" I yelled back, a grimace on Ginger's face.
"I'm leaving," I heard Ginger mutter as he left the room, Marilyn following him out.
"At least we can go a week without fighting!"
"Well, we have beautiful make up sex!"
"We don't need make up sex, our sex is always beautiful!"
"At least we don't fuck on the couch everyone sits on!"
"At least we don't role play!" John smirked, I loved role playing, it was just another random thing that got me going. Halloween, of course, was always interesting due to that particular fetish of mine.
"At least we don't need to steal other people's candles!"
"At least we don't have handcuffs that never leave the bedposts!" I, personally, had no clue what was wrong with that. It saved us a lot of time looking for them.
"At least we don't have wives and try to hide our relationship!"
"Fuck you, man. That's personal," John said shakily as he flipped me off before walking away, Marilyn reappearing in the hallway entrance, grinning at me.
"C'mere," I said smiling deviously.
"That fight was short," Marilyn noted as I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling me closer to me as his arms wound around my waist.
"Yup," I said quietly, focusing on how great it felt to just hold Marilyn.
"What are we going to do know?" Marilyn asked in a soft voice, resting his chin on my head.
"Well, I'd say I'm tired, but then I'd be lying," I said suggestively, pulling back and smiling.
"But either way we're going to bed," Marilyn said, a huge smile on his face as he tugged me down the hall as fast as he could walk and fell on the bed, me falling next to him.
"Where were we?" I muttered offhandedly as I straddled Marilyn, pinning him to the bed.
"W-"
"Shut up, love," I said, running my hands down his arms, laying them flat on the bed before handcuffing him to the bed and getting off, a frown on Marilyn's face.
"Relax, I'm just getting something," I murmured as I put a hand on Marilyn's cheek before turning to the nightstand. I pulled out a candle and some matches, inhaling deeply as the smell of a match being lit filled the air.
I put the now lit candle on the nightstand and pulled off my shirt, grateful that Marilyn had decided to walk around in boxers all day before pulling off my own, Marilyn watching me carefully.
I got on the bed slowly, straddling his stomach and putting my hands on his chest, Marilyn's eyes following my every move. I slowly trailed my hands down his chest, getting off the bed once I reached where I was straddling him.
"You're my whore tonight, love. And every night," I muttered mostly to myself as I thought about what I could do to him. He looked so beautiful, tied up and vulnerable, completely submissive. I could do anything to him. Anything at all.
I looked at him closely as ideas ran through my head, finally settling on one that stood out just enough.
I rifled through the nightstand drawer, Marilyn watching me intently. I eventually pulled out a sharp, small knife that we hadn't used in a while. Marilyn's eyes widened slightly as I straddled his hips and stared into his hypnotizing eyes, I could just stare at them for days.
"We're going to have a bit of fun, love," I said softly, a smirk tugging at my lips as I trailed the dull side across his neck, Marilyn smiling in amusement mixed with a bit of confusion.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Too much," I muttered as I flipped the blade over and traced another line across his neck, a touch of worry entering Marilyn's eyes.
I trailed the blade down his neck to just above his belly button. I pressed the knife in slightly as I trailed it across his navel, pressing hard enough to leave a raised mark in the blade's wake, but not enough to draw blood. Marilyn's breath hitched as I trailed the knife up to his chest, gradually pressing down harder, eventually a small cut forming. I stopped the knife just below his nipple and pulled back to examine the extremely vulnerable and so very beautiful man beneath me. A shallow cut trailed from about midway between his chest and navel to just below his nipple, small bulbs of blood forming slowly on top of the cut. I trailed a finger up the cut, smearing the blood and collecting some on my finger.
I trailed the finger with blood on it across his neck where a red mark was left from me trailing the knife across his neck. It looked fake, but I didn't care.
I brought my gaze to his lips. They looked so lovely, the red contrasting his pale face and creating a beautiful addition to his face. I leaned down slowly and pressed my lips against his, softly at first, but then crushing our lips together before he bit down on my lower lip.
I pulled back gasping and brought my hand up to my mouth, wiping my thumb against my bottom lip. I examine my thumb to find that he had drawn blood. I licked my lips and tasted blood. A wide grin took over my face as I turned my attention back to the man beneath me.
"Make me bleed," Marilyn said softly, a devious glint in his eyes as he smirked.
"You'll get what you deserve," I said as I grabbed the knife and brought it to his stomach, trailing the knife across and pressing down hard enough to cause a shallow cut to form, gradually pressing down harder until I had a deep cut. Marilyn made no noises, just lay there silently, biting his lip, his eyes shut.
I got off of the bed, not needing to look at Marilyn's face to know he was wondering what the fuck I was up to. Straddled him again just above his crotch, but this time facing away from his beautiful face.
I brought the knife to his thigh, pressing until I felt the skin break, a gasp falling from Marilyn's mouth as I dragged the knife across his thigh, blood forming at the edges, little beads of the red liquid appearing and growing slowly. I moved so I was still straddling him, but facing him.
I trailed my hands down his chest lightly, Marilyn moaning softly.
"You fucking bastard, you've always known just how to make me feel like shit," I said softly, Marilyn looking at me in surprise, I myself extremely surprised.
"Marilyn, I'm so sorry I don't know how that happened," I said quickly, untying him from the bed and sitting on the edge. I buried my face in my hands, not entirely sure of what else to do.
Marilyn sat next to me and wrapped an arm around me carefully, pulling me closer to him. I automatically leaned into his touch, relaxing into him as thought about how perfectly our bodies fit together.
"I'm sorry I get so abusive, Twiggy. I never mean to make you feel bad, I love you. I love you so much, but I've never been great with emotions, and you know that," Marilyn said quietly, holding me tightly to his body.
"I know. I love you, too. I just hate how abusive you get sometimes, it bothers me," I admitted, something I'd been wanting to say for a while now.
"I'm so sorry, love," Marilyn said, his grip on me tightening to where it was uncomfortable.
"Marilyn, you're hurting me," I said as I tried, and failed, to wiggle out of his grip.
"Oh, I'm so very sorry, baby," Marilyn said mockingly, his grip tightening even more.
"Stop, Marilyn, please," I pleaded, my eyes finding his and searching for any emotion, but finding none.
"You hurt me first," Marilyn shrugged innocently before finally letting go.
"You caused me pain that caused me to hurt you," I accused as I jumped off the bed and backed up to the door slowly.
"You needed to be reminded who is in charge of you," Marilyn said simply, watching me carefully as I reached the door, putting both hands behind me.
"I'm in charge of me," I said sternly as I yanked open the door and ran out, Marilyn running after me.
"John! Gi-" my screams for help were cut off by Marilyn putting his hand over my mouth and yanking me back into the room. He shoved me onto the bed and straddled me.
"Well, well, well, someone's decided to finally take control of themselves. Well, guess what, doll? It's too fucking late," Marilyn snarled, his hands coming up and gripping my shoulders tightly.
"Marilyn, stop it," I begged, honesty scared now. His eyes were... They were filled with hate and anger. Towards me.
"You never controlled yourself, always doing drugs and alcohol like no tomorrow, losing yourself slowly. Someone had to intervene. Someone had to control you before you killed yourself. I love you so fucking much that that's what I decided to do," Marilyn growled through clenched teeth, the grip on my shoulders tightening still.
"I decided to control you for your own fucking good, to keep you alive. All because I love you," Marilyn seethed, pressing me into the bed, pain shooting through my body.
"If you love me, really fucking love me, then let go of me," I struggled against him while giving him puppy dog eyes at the same time.
"I have to keep you under my control, keep you from getting hurt," Marilyn argued, his eyes softening a bit.
"I love you," I said softly, trying my hardest to break free from his grip.
"No, you fucking don't! And you never fucking did!" Marilyn snapped, his eyes set to angryfire and his grip tightening even more, pushing me further into the bed.
"Mar-" my protests were cut off by his hand coming up to my neck and wrapping his fingers around it tightly, pressing his hand down slowly as I clawed at his arm, his other hand helping the cause.
"I love you so much, I must kill you now," Marilyn said silkily, his voice soft as he spoke the venomous words.
His grip tightened more as I flailed about, my vision failing, dots filling my eyes as I hoped blindly for anything. Suddenly, my fingers found the knife and curled around its handle. I brought my arm up behind him, black and green dots all I could see as I plunged the knife into his shoulder, the grip on me immediately disappeared and I gasped for breath, my hands flying to my throat. My breathing gradually steadied and my vision came back to normal before I surveyed the room.
My eyes set upon Marilyn's body lying in... oh shit. I hadn't meant to stab him that hard, just enough to get him off of me...
The knife was in his skin to the hilt and his breathing was labored as he lay in a puddle of his own blood, John and Ginger rushing into the room, Ginger screaming to John, words flying aimlessly around, Marilyn dying.
My love, my reason for living, bleeding out on the carpet. Everything was in slow motion as sirens wailed in the distance, Ginger grabbing me, screaming at me. I couldn't open my mouth. Couldn't move my eyes from Marilyn. Somehow he manage to be so beautiful, even this close to death.
I closed my eyes, images flashing on the inside of my eyelids before I reopened them, people in red jackets flooding the room, screaming at each other, at me.
I closed my eyes once more, falling into darkness.
---------------------
"You were the one I wanted and what I wanted was someone real. You were always real, always there, always alive," I said softly as I patted the tombstone beside me and took another drink of whiskey.
"I love you, but you loved me, too. I'm sorry, but love doesn't work that way," I laughed breathlessly. I was done with love. I was done with life, but I had to prove Marilyn wrong.
Getting my revenge was as simple as making it another day.
But every day was getting easier, so was this still revenge?
Or was this getting over someone who was never really mine, as much as I was his?