tw: female reader, dub-con/non-con, drug/medicine abuse, hinted drug addiction, disfynctional relationship, slight degradation
It's the coldest winter yet, you think.
It's the first winter when you don't move from motel to motel, don't pick cigarettes off the ground. The first winter without heat and the first winter when you have to merge flesh with someone so you both don't freeze off to death.
You stare at the screen, you hear his steps - you sigh. You look at the small black letters, rubbing your hands together, but the skin remains stiff and prickly.
"Here." Adam throws the small orange box on the steps carelessly, sitting next to you with a swift jump - it vaguely reminds you of a snake wrapping around prey. He puts one heavy arm around you, but he's not really looking at you, drafting something incomprehensible on a scrambled piece of paper.
You hold the box with two hands. The sheer weight of it puts your heart at ease before the small white pill has even touched your lips. You follow the big bold letters with your finger, feeling the coarse curve of each symbol spelling Pexytril. Such a beautiful name - and such beautiful dreams it would bring, so you turn around and kiss him hard, harder than last time because now you have some resemblance of energy.
He grins against your lips, squeezing your chin with full grasp.
"What's this for, slut?" your boyfriend teases, poking you between the ribs, and although it actually hurts (you're sensitive all over for a long-unexplained, already forgotten reason), you smile sleepily. Fuck, you can hardly wait to take a handful and swallow them dry - you just need some spit.
"Y'know. For the zips." you reach in to kiss his cheek this time, and he grabs your head and twists it towards him leaving a wet trail all over you jawline until his lips meet yours in a sloppy reunion of tongue, cigarette dust and exhaustion.
"Of course." he strokes your thigh over your tight jeans, ripping into a ripped hole, ripping it some more - and you wonder if that makes it more or less fashionable somehow. "It's the least I could do for my girl." he draws circles through the peeking skin, then flowers, hearts, initials.
"Besides, you kinda go crazy when you skip a'night. Remember last week?" he chuckles more to himself than to you. "I had to fuck the exorcism out of you. Fucking thought you were possessed or something - you were wailing so hard you drooled all over me." the man takes your free hand and puts it on his hardening crotch.
"It was really fucking hot." he then gets closer, so close you might just pierce through his neck and jugular, and let him swallow you whole. "Remember, baby?" his voice gets raspy, low, perverse - his hand on yours becomes demanding, forcing you to palm him through the boxers. You do your best, although you still feel groggy and disoriented.
"Remember how I gripped your little throat," Adam repeats the notion as he speaks, making you whine and jump in discomfort. "Shh, stay still. It's nothing we haven't done already. Can you feel the air slip outta your lungs?" he makes you lean on him from one side, stroking your hair as you desperately try, and fail, to inhale deeply.
"Do you remember how you'd tighten up with each choked sob, baby? Hm? You were so nice, so pliant, so still, fuck... I thought I could fuck you forever." your boyfriend pulls you into his lap, grabbing your hips with a deathgrip - purposefully trying to leave a red-hot mark.
"Imagine, one wrong move, one kiss more, and you go limp in my hands. And I will keep thrusting and thrusting and thrusting," he gropes your left breast underneath your blouse, forcing his knee between your legs to spread them wide. "until your lips turn blue, and I'll keep kissing your breath away. How does that sound, love? You'll be so soft for me."
You can feel you breath hitch in ragged gasps, eyes bulging slightly as you finally drop your phone down. Then, without warning, the tears surge up, shameful and spilling all over your cheeks, and he laps at them, and licks them away to his rotten heart's content. You reach out with one weak hand, begging for air - and he pins your wrist to the wall and locks your fingers together.
"There will be no more pesky friends, or bar colleagues, or fucking parties to run off to. No more voices in your ear except mine." Adam is breathless now, so worked up you can feel his hardness under you. You hear a loud crack, and your phone flickers one last time under his booth before it dies down forever.
"I will take good care of you - bring you all the shit you like. All the candy worms and chocolate and pexxy your fucked up little brain can handle until it all melts away." he loosens his grip on your neck and kisses you, slipping you a sweet mushy pill that quickly dissolves on your tongue, reaching your most intimate nerve endings.
"So c'mon, doll, open up." he pops a few more pills, all colourful, into his mouth. "There's a lotta more where that came from."
