|| NSFW MDI || warnings: MALE!OC x fem!OC, established relationship, dark romance, joe goldberg coded ML, obsessive/possessive ML, argument turns sexual, choking, crying during sex, rough sex, size kink, desperation, hair pulling, begging, dirty talk, "i love you" while choking, bruises, murder discussed, blood trail, she knows what he is and stays, rough to nothing, no resolution, toxic relationship, aftercare that doesnt fix anything, clingy ML, internal conflict during sex
summary: You come home to blood on the hardwood. Your boyfriend killed someone tonight because a stranger looked at your photos in a parking lot. You scream. You hit him. He takes it. He tells you hed do anything to prove youre his. You dont tell him to stop. He chokes you until your vision blurs and whispers i love you and you come crying and hating that you love him. Then you clean the blood at 6am and cover the bruise and go sing a love song and come home to coffee made exactly right. And you call that a life. ‘Not you cause this isn’t an x reader but I was to lazy to type diff, but if you want you can imagine’
Serenity Blackwood had been to enough of these things to know the rhythm by heart. The same people in different outfits. The same drinks in different glasses. The same conversations wearing different faces. Music industry things. Label events. Her fathers world bleeding into hers whether she wanted it to or not. She'd stopped wanting it to a long time ago.
She stood near the edge of the rooftop bar, the city spread out behind her like something bleeding light. LA at night never slept. It just changed clothes. High rises and billboards and the distant glow of the 101 cutting through the dark like a vein.
Alejandro was beside her. Not next to her. Beside her. There was a difference. Next to her implied equal footing. Beside her implied something closer. Something that didnt leave room for anyone else to stand there.
His hand rested on the small of her back. Had been there most of the night. Not gripping. Not possessive in any way that someone watching would clock as wrong. Just there. Warm through the thin fabric of her dress. A constant. Like a ring on a finger she'd forgotten she was wearing until it pressed into her skin.
"You want to go?" he asked. His voice was low, pitched just for her. He wasnt looking at her. He was looking at the room. Scanning. He always scanned.
"I dont know. Kind of want to see if Marcus shows up. Havent talked to him in a minute."
The hand on her back shifted. Subtle. A fraction of pressure. "Marcus from the label?"
"The one who was staring at you at the Vevo premiere?"
She turned her head to look at him. His jaw was set. Eyes still moving across the room. Calm. Almost bored.
"He was." A small pause. "I noticed."
Of course he noticed. Alejandro Monroe noticed everything. Every glance that lasted a beat too long. Every smile that showed too many teeth. Every man who let his eyes drop below her collarbone in conversation. He catalogued them. Filed them away. She didnt know what he did with the files but she knew he kept them.
She used to think it was sweet. In the beginning. Before she understood the shape of it. Before she saw what lived underneath the devotion like something pressed against the bottom of a frozen lake. Visible but distorted by the water above it.
Now she knew. She stayed anyway. She'd stopped interrogating herself about why.
"Hes just friendly," she said.
Alejandro finally looked at her. Brown eyes. Dark. The kind of dark that didnt reflect light so much as absorb it. He was handsome and he knew it. Sharp jaw. Clean line of nose. Lips that settled naturally into something serious. His mother had been a model before she died. His father was Graham Monroe. Real estate empire. Old money. Older cruelties. Alejandro had run from all of it and landed here. In her apartment. In her bed. In her life like he'd always belonged there.
Maybe he had. That was the problem.
"Friendly," he repeated. The word came out flat.
"Can we just have a good night. Please."
Something in his expression softened. Just a little. Just enough. He leaned in and pressed his lips to her temple. Gentle. "Anything you want. You know that."
She did know that. That was the problem too.
They stayed another forty minutes. Alejandro got her water when she was tired of drinking. He pulled her closer when someone squeezed past them in the narrow walkway, his arm wrapping around her waist with easy practiced ownership. When a guy tried to compliment her dress and lingered on the word stunning a half second too long, Alejandro materialized at her side like smoke and introduced himself with a smile that didnt reach his eyes.
Then there was the thing with the bartender.
She'd gone to the bar alone because Alejandro had gone to the bathroom. Just wanted another water. The bartender was young. Probably early twenties. Friendly in the way service industry people were friendly. He smiled at her while he poured the water and said "you look familiar" and she said "yeah I get that a lot" and he laughed and said "no I mean I think I follow you actually, your music is really good" and she said thank you and that should have been the end of it.
Alejandro came back and the bartender's smile faltered. Not because of anything Alejandro did. Just because Alejandro had a way of filling a space that made other men shrink. He put his hand on the bar right next to where the bartender's hand was. Not touching. Just close. Close enough that the bartender looked at it and then looked at Alejandro and then decided he had somewhere else to be.
"Was he bothering you," Alejandro said. Not a question.
"He was looking at me because I ordered a drink. Thats what bartenders do."
"You didnt have to say anything. Your face said it."
He looked at her. Then he picked up the water glass and handed it to her. "Here. Drink."
She took it. Drank it. Didnt say anything else about the bartender.
On the way to the car she stopped to talk to someone. A producer. Older guy. Completely professional. They talked for maybe three minutes about a possible feature. Alejandro stood behind her the entire time. She could feel him there. Feel his eyes on the back of her head. Feel the producer's gaze flick to Alejandro and then away and then back to her with a slightly uncomfortable energy like he could tell he was being watched and didnt like it.
She cut the conversation short. Not because of Alejandro. At least thats what she told herself.
The drive home was quiet. Alejandro drove because he always drove. One hand on the wheel. The other resting on her thigh. Not moving. Just there. His thumb traced slow absent circles against her skin through the slit in her dress. She watched the city slide past the passenger window and let herself feel the warmth of his palm and tried not to think about anything at all.
"Good night," he said after a while.
"It was a party Alejandro. Parties are fine. Theyre not good."
She looked down. Her leg was bouncing. She stopped it.
"See. Tense." He rubbed his thumb across her thigh. "When we get home I can help with that."
She didnt respond. Looked out the window. A billboard for her latest single slid past. Her face five stories tall. She wondered if Alejandro had ever killed someone because of that billboard. Because some guy driving on the 101 looked at it too long.
The thought made her stomach turn but she didnt say it out loud. Some thoughts were better left in the dark where they belonged.
The apartment was on the fourth floor of a building that cost more than it should have. Her money technically. Her fathers label had been good to her. Or good at extracting value from her depending on how you looked at it. Two bedrooms. Open living space. A kitchen with marble counters that Alejandro had picked out. He'd moved in three months into dating. She hadnt been asked. He just started appearing with more of his things each time he came over until the things outnumbered the empty spaces and the question became irrelevant.
She stepped inside first. Keys on the counter. Shoes kicked off.
The lights were off. She reached for the switch.
"Dont," Alejandro said behind her.
"Leave them off. Ill get the lamp."
Something about his voice. She couldnt place it. Not wrong exactly. Just controlled. More controlled than usual. Like he was holding a conversation and something else at the same time. Like he was splitting his attention between being here with her and managing something else in the back of his mind.
She let her hand drop and walked further in. Waited for the warm click of the floor lamp by the couch. It came a moment later. Soft orange light bled across the hardwood.
She turned to say something. What she didnt know. And then she looked down.
There were spots on the floor. Small. Dark. Scattered like someone had walked through mud and hadnt bothered to wipe their feet. Except it wasnt mud. She knew what mud looked like. She knew what this looked like too because she'd grown up around enough crime scene shows and her fathers industry adjacent stories to recognize the color when it was fresh and dark and wrong against light wood.
Her eyes followed the trail. From the front door. Through the entryway. Past the kitchen island. Leading toward the bedroom like a dotted line someone had drawn with a leaky pen.
Her stomach dropped. Not all at once. More like an elevator whose cable had been cut. That sickening lurch of gravity before the real fall.
She stood there for a second. Just looking at it. Her brain trying to make it into something else. Paint. Sauce. Something from a shoe. Anything. But it wasnt anything else. She knew what it was the way you know your own name. Instantly. Completely. Without doubt.
She turned around slowly.
Alejandro was standing by the door. He'd closed it. He was still holding his keys. Looking at her with that same controlled expression. Calm. Patient. Like he was waiting for her to finish a math problem he already had the answer to.
"What is that." Not a question. A demand. Her voice came out flatter than she wanted it to.
He glanced down at the floor. Back up. He didnt seem embarrassed. Didnt seem alarmed. He looked at the blood spots the way someone might look at a smudge on a window. Noted it. Filed it. Moved on.
"Thats not what I asked."
"I know." He set his keys on the counter. Carefully. Deliberately. The way he did everything. "Let me clean it up first and then well talk."
He looked at her. Really looked at her. And something shifted behind his eyes. Not guilt. Not panic. Something more like resignation. The expression of a man who knew a difficult conversation was coming and had decided to meet it the way he met everything. Head on. Unblinking. Without apology.
"Where were you tonight," she said. "Before you picked me up."
She crossed her arms. Her heart was hammering but she held her body still. She'd learned that too. Dont let him see you shake. Not because he'd hurt her. He wouldnt. She believed that with a certainty she couldnt fully explain. But because shaking gave him something to hold. And when Alejandro held something he didnt let go.
"Where," she said again. Quieter this time.
He exhaled through his nose. Not a sigh. More like a breath calibrated to show her he was being patient. "I went to get food. There was a guy in the parking lot."
"I dont know his name. Some kid. Early twenties. He was looking at you."
"Youd been there. Earlier today. You went to that coffee shop on Fifth. The one with the green awning and the bad pastries."
"Why were you tracking where I went today."
The question snapped out of her before she could stop it. He didnt answer. He never answered that one directly. He'd just look at her like she was asking him why he breathed. Like it was so fundamental to who he was that explaining it would be like explaining gravity.
"The guy," she said. Forcing herself back on track. "The guy in the parking lot. What happened."
"He was looking at you. On his phone. Had pictures. I dont know how he got them. Probably just screenshots from your instagram but still. He was sitting in his car scrolling through pictures of you and I."
The words hung in the air between them. She could hear the refrigerator humming. Could hear the distant sound of traffic four floors below. Could hear her own blood rushing in her ears like static.
"Handled it," she repeated.
He tilted his head slightly. Studying her. "You already know how."
She did. God help her she did. Because this wasnt the first time. It was just the first time he'd been sloppy enough to track it into their home like a dog that didnt know any better.
The shaking started. Not visible. She held it in her muscles. Locked her knees. Kept her arms tight across her chest. But inside everything was vibrating at a frequency that made it hard to think straight.
The words left her mouth and sounded foreign. Like someone else had said them from across the room.
Alejandro didnt flinch. Didnt blink. "Yes."
"It wasnt just like that Serenity. He had photos of you. He was."
"He had instagram photos. You can look those up on your phone in two seconds. That doesnt mean he was going to DO anything."
"And YOU do? You can see the future now? You can look at someone in a parking lot and know what theyre going to do?"
"I know what men like that do." His voice had hardened. Just slightly. A crack in the patience. "Ive seen it. You dont understand whats out there. What people are capable of when they."
"Dont." She held up a hand. "Dont you DARE try to make this about protecting me. This is about YOU. This is about your sickness your."
"Your OBSESSION with me. Theres a difference."
The question stopped her. Not because he was right. But because he believed he was right. Completely. Down to the marrow. And that belief was so total, so unmoved by anything she could say, that arguing with it felt like shouting at a wall.
She stared at him. He stared back. The blood spots on the floor sat between them like a third person in the room.
"You promised me," she said. Her voice cracked on the last word and she hated herself for it. "After the last one. You PROMISED you were done."
"And you walked in here with BLOOD on your shoes like it was nothing. Like youd just stepped in a puddle. Went for a jog."
"I didnt think youd be home this early. I was going to clean it before."
"Thats not the POINT." Her voice was rising now. She couldnt stop it. "The point is you did it AGAIN. The point is theres a BODY somewhere right now because a guy looked at photos of me on his phone and you couldnt handle it. The point is you are OUT of control and you dont even see it."
"Im not out of control." Calm. Infuriatingly calm. "Im precise. Im careful. I didnt leave anything. I thought I didnt leave anything. The blood on the floor was a mistake. It wont happen again."
"The BLOOD on the FLOOR is not the issue Alejandro."
"Then what is? Tell me what the issue is. Because from where Im standing I removed a threat to you. A guy with photos of you in his car in a parking lot alone at night. And your angry at ME?"
"Yes! Im angry at you! Because normal people dont KILL someone for that! Normal people call the police. They ignore it. They do ANYTHING other than."
"Normal people dont protect the people they love? Thats what youre telling me?"
"Im not twisting anything. Im telling you what I did and why I did it and your acting like I committed a crime."
"YOU DID COMMIT A CRIME. THAT IS LITERALLY WHAT MURDER IS."
The shout echoed off the walls. She was breathing hard. Her chest felt tight. Alejandro stood perfectly still and the worst part was that he looked sad. Not guilty. Not ashamed. Sad. Like she was the one being unreasonable. Like she was the one not understanding something simple and important.
"Serenity." He took a step toward her.
"Dont." She stepped back. "Dont come closer."
He stopped. But the sadness didnt leave his face. "I did it for you."
"You did it for YOU. You did it because you cant stand the idea of anyone else looking at me. Thats not love Alejandro. Thats."
"It IS love." His voice dropped. Not angry. Certain. The way he was always certain. "Its the realest love there is. I would burn this entire city to the ground if someone in it meant you harm. I would. You have no idea what I would do for you. What I HAVE done."
"I dont want you to do things for me. I want you to be NORMAL. I want you to stop killing people. Stop following me. Stop."
The question hit her like a slap. Not because it was cruel. Because he meant it. He genuinely couldnt separate the two. The killing and the loving were the same impulse to him. Braided together so tightly that pulling one out would mean unraveling the other.
She had no answer for that.
The silence stretched. Five seconds. Ten. The lamp buzzed faintly.
"You need to leave," she said. It came out quieter than she meant it to.
"Im not leaving." He said it simply. Like stating a fact. The sky is blue. Water is wet. Im not leaving.
"Thats not the same thing."
"It is to me." He took another step. She didnt back up this time. Not because she wanted him closer but because she refused to keep retreating in her own home. "Im not going to leave you alone when youre upset. Thats not who I am."
"Who you are is a MURDERER."
"Who I am is yours." He said it without embarrassment. Without drama. Just truth as he understood it. "Everything I am is yours. The good and the bad. Ive never hidden that from you."
"You didnt TELL me about the others until I found out on my own."
"I was protecting you from."
"From the TRUTH? From what you ARE?"
"From something you didnt need to carry."
"Im CARRYING it right now!"
Her voice broke again. This time she didnt hate herself for it. She was too tired to hate herself. Too tired and too angry and too scared in a way that lived beneath the anger like an undertow.
Alejandro watched her cry. He didnt move. Didnt try to touch her. Didnt comfort her. He just watched and his expression was that of someone seeing something precious and fragile and being afraid. Genuinely afraid. That it might shatter.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "You promised," she said again. Softer now. The fight leaking out of the word.
"You looked me in the eyes and you promised."
"Did it mean anything? When you said it?"
"Yes." No hesitation. "It meant everything. It still does."
"Then how. How could you."
"Because he was looking at you."
He said it like it explained everything. Like the mere act of a strangers eyes on her was an earthquake that demanded a response. Like the world had done something to HIM and killing was just the aftershock.
She shook her head. Turned away. Pressed her palms against the kitchen counter and leaned on them. Staring at the marble Alejandro had picked out. Feeling the cool stone against her skin. Trying to ground herself in something physical and real and not the nightmare logic of this conversation.
Behind her she heard him move. A few steps. The creak of a floorboard.
"A man looked at me," she said to the counter. To the marble. To no one. "And you killed him for it. And tomorrow Im supposed to wake up next to you and make breakfast and go to class and sing at a studio session and pretend that my boyfriend isnt. Isnt a."
She turned. He was closer than she expected. Three feet away. His jaw was tight now. The patience had a crack in it.
"Dont say what. What dont you want me to say?"
"The thing youre about to say. The word."
"What word. MONSTER? Is that the word? Because."
"Why not. If the shoe fits."
"Because Im not." He stepped closer. Two feet now. "Im not a monster Serenity. Im someone who loves you more than anyone on this planet has ever loved another person. And yes that love is. Its not clean. Its not simple. I know that. But its REAL. Its the most real thing in my life."
She should have been afraid. A part of her was. A small animal part that recognized the danger in how still he was standing. In how his voice had gone quiet the way it did before something happened. But the larger part of her. The part that had chosen him and kept choosing him. Just felt tired.
"Real isnt the same as good," she said.
"No. Its not." He was right in front of her now. She could smell him. Cologne and something else underneath it. Something metallic that might have been the parking lot air still clinging to his jacket. "But its all I have."
She looked up at him. He was tall. She forgot sometimes when they were lying down or sitting across from each other how tall he was. How much space he took up. His eyes were dark in the low light. Pupils blown wide. And she realized with a distant sort of clarity that the argument wasnt over. It was just changing shape.
"Step back," she said. Not as firmly as she should have.
She stared at him and he stared at her and the apartment felt smaller than it ever had. Like the walls were inching in. The lamp on the other side of the room threw his shadow across the floor and it stretched all the way to her feet like it was trying to reach her.
"Alejandro I swear to god."
She shoved him. Both hands flat against his chest. He didnt move. Not an inch. It was like pushing a wall that was warm and breathing and looking at her with those dark eyes that knew everything about her including things she didnt know about herself.
It made her madder. God it made her so much madder. That she couldnt even physically move him. That her hands against his chest meant nothing. That all the fury in her body couldnt make him budge.
"Your fucking insane." She hit him again. Open palm against his sternum. The sound was sharp and stupid in the quiet apartment. "Your actually insane. You know that right. You killed someone tonight and your standing in our kitchen like you just got back from the grocery store."
"I didnt say it was the grocery store."
"Oh my god. Oh my fucking god thats what you take from what I just said."
He caught her wrist the next time she swung. Not hard. Just his hand closing around it. Fingers wrapping all the way around. And suddenly her arm wasnt hers anymore. She pulled and he held and it was like arguing with a lock.
"Stop hitting me and I will."
"Or nothing. Im not going to hurt you Serenity. You know that."
"I dont know anything about you clearly."
"You know everything about me. Thats the problem." His voice was still quiet. Still controlled. But there was something underneath it now. Something vibrating at a frequency she could feel in her chest. "You know what I am and you stay. You knew after the first one and you stayed. You knew after the second one and you stayed. So dont stand here and act like Im a stranger. You chose this."
"I didnt choose THIS." She yanked her arm again. He didnt let go. "I chose YOU. Theres a difference."
"YES there is a fucking difference Alejandro."
"Then explain it to me. Because from where Im standing you chose a man who kills for you and youre surprised when he kills for you. Thats not a difference. Thats just you not wanting to look at what you chose too closely."
It landed. She felt it land. Felt it sink into her chest and sit there like a stone. Because some part of her. The part she kept buried deep and never looked at. Knew he wasnt entirely wrong. She had known. After the first time when he told her with that same calm voice and those same steady eyes she had known what he was. And she had not left.
She had cried. She had screamed. She had told him he was sick and broken and needed help. And then she had let him hold her while she cried about it and she had stayed.
"Fuck you," she said. Low. Her voice was raw now.
"You dont get to agree with me. You dont get to be REASONABLE right now."
"Im not being reasonable. Im being honest. Theres a difference. You just said so."
He did. Let it drop like it was nothing. Like holding her wasnt something he needed to do. Just something he'd done in the moment. She pulled her arm back and cradled it against her chest even though it didnt hurt. It was the principle.
She hit him again. This time with her fist. Connected with his jaw. Her knuckles screamed at her and he didnt even turn his head. Just took it. Looked at her like she'd told him it might rain later.
She hit him again. Chest. Shoulder. Jaw again. Each hit landing on something solid and immovable and completely unaffected. Her hands were starting to hurt. Her breathing was ragged. Tears were running down her face and she wasnt sure when she'd started crying again.
He let her hit him. Let her get it out. Stood there and took every swing like it was nothing because to him it WAS nothing. Because her anger was just weather. Because he knew something she didnt want to know. That she would tire out before he would. That eventually the hitting would stop and she'd still be standing in front of him and nothing would have changed.
She stopped. Not because she was done being angry. Because her hands hurt and her face was wet and she couldnt catch her breath.
"Feel better," he asked. Genuinely. Like he actually wanted to know.
"You dont get to tell me what I feel."
"Im not telling you. Im just saying. If you hated me you would have left a long time ago."
"Maybe we both are." He said it softly. Without drama. Just a fact he'd accepted. "But broken people still deserve to be loved. Thats what I think."
"Dont. Dont try to be philosophical right now. Dont try to be WISE. You killed someone tonight Alejandro. Tonight. A few hours ago. There is a person who is DEAD because you cant handle another man looking at me."
"He wasnt just looking at you."
"He was looking at his phone."
"He was looking at YOU on his phone. Theres a difference."
"Not a difference that justifies MURDER."
"Nothing justifies murder in your eyes. I get that. But I dont see it that way. I see a threat and I eliminate it. Thats how my brain works. Ive told you this."
"Maybe. But it loves you. However it does it. However messy it is. It loves you."
She turned away from him. Walked toward the living room. She needed space. Needed distance. Needed to not be smelling his cologne and that faint metallic underneath it that her brain was trying very hard not to identify.
He followed her. Of course he followed her.
"Im not following you. Were going to the same room."
"I know. And Im not going to let you sit in this apartment alone being angry at me. Thats not happening."
"YOU dont get to DECIDE what happens in MY apartment."
He didnt flinch at the volume. He never did. She could scream his name at the top of her lungs and he would just stand there and take it like it was weather. Like she was a storm passing over him and he just had to wait it out.
She was backing up and she didnt realize it until her shoulders hit the wall next to the window. The city lights were behind her spread out like a net and he was in front of her and there was nowhere to go that wasnt toward him.
"Your doing the thing," she said.
"The thing where you corner me without cornering me. Where you make it so I dont have anywhere to stand except right in front of you."
He looked at her. Then he looked at the wall behind her. Then back at her. He didnt move. Didnt step back. Didnt apologize.
She opened her mouth. Closed it. The honest answer was complicated. No she wasnt scared of him. Not in the way she should have been. Not in the way any reasonable person would have been. She was scared of what she felt when he looked at her like that. She was scared of how much she didnt want him to step back.
"Then whats the problem."
"The problem is you KILLED someone tonight and your acting like I should be THANKFUL."
"I dont want you to be thankful."
"I want you to understand."
"That I would do anything in the world to prove your mine. Cause you are."
He said it plainly. Not a declaration. Not a speech. Just a sentence. Like telling her the time or the weather. And it hung in the air between them and she felt it land on her skin like something warm and heavy and she hated that she felt it. Hated that her body responded to those words the way it always did. Like a key sliding into a lock she wished she could throw away but couldnt stop carrying.
Her breath was shaking. Her hands were shaking. Everything was shaking except his eyes which were steady and dark and completely certain.
"You dont own me," she said. But her voice came out thin. Thinner than she wanted.
"No. I dont own you. Youre not a thing. I know that. But you are mine. In every way that matters. Your mine and Im yours and that guy in that parking lot looked at you like he had a right to it and he didnt. He didnt have any right."
"Those are the same thing to you arent they."
He didnt answer. Which was an answer.
The silence was thick. She could hear herself breathing. Could hear him breathing. Could hear the faint hum of the city through the window glass. Her back was against the wall and he was close enough that she could see the individual lashes around his eyes and the small scar above his left eyebrow from when he was a kid. Before all of this. Before her. When he was just a boy with a dead mother and a terrifying father.
She thought about that sometimes. What he was before the killing. Whether there was a version of him that could have been different. Whether she was the thing that had made him worse or just the thing that had given him a direction.
She shoved him again. Harder this time. Both hands. He moved this time but only a step and then he was back. And his hand came up and caught her face. Not rough. His palm against her cheek. Fingers sliding into her hair. And she hated that her eyes closed. Hated that she leaned into it for half a second before she caught herself.
"No. I mean really tell me. Mean it. Look me in the eyes and tell me you dont want this and Ill back up and well talk about it like adults and Ill sleep on the couch."
She looked at him. His hand was still on her face. His thumb was tracing her cheekbone. Slow. Back and forth. Like he was memorizing the shape of her.
She should have. She knew she should have. Every logical circuit in her brain was firing. Screaming at her that this was wrong. That he had blood on his shoes an hour ago. That she was supposed to be furious. That she WAS furious. That fury and desire could coexist but they shouldnt be feeding each other the way they were right now.
He saw it. Saw the moment she didnt say it. And something in his expression shifted. Not a smile. Not a smirk. Something more like recognition. Like he'd found the thing he was looking for.
It wasnt gentle. It was the argument continuing by other means. His mouth on hers hard and demanding and she bit his lip and he didnt pull back just pressed harder and her hands were in his hair pulling and his hands were on her waist gripping and this wasnt tenderness this was war.
She tasted copper. Either his lip or hers she couldnt tell. Didnt care.
And then her brain caught up to her body and the thought hit her like ice water.
She pulled back. Breathing hard. Her hand on his chest pushing. Not hard. Just enough to create space.
He stopped. Didnt push. Just looked at her. Waiting.
"This is. I cant. You just." She was shaking her head. Trying to find the words. "You killed someone tonight Alejandro. Like tonight tonight. A few hours ago. And Im standing here letting you."
"Youre not letting me do anything. I kissed you."
"That doesnt make it okay."
"Then what are you." She pressed her palms against her eyes. Took a breath. Tried to think through the fog of anger and want that was clouding everything. "This is so fucked up. This is so fucked up. Im supposed to be screaming at you. Im supposed to be calling the cops. Im supposed to be doing SOMETHING other than."
"Other than wanting you to do it again."
She said it and immediately wished she could take it back. Not because it wasnt true. Because it was. Because saying it out loud made it real in a way that living it in her head didnt.
Alejandro looked at her. His expression didnt change. Didnt get smug. Didnt get triumphant. He just looked at her with those dark steady eyes and she could see something moving behind them. Something that looked almost like pain.
"I know," he said. "I know its fucked up. I know I make everything harder. I know that."
"Then why cant you just STOP."
"Because stopping means something gets past me. Something gets to you. And I cant live with that Serenity. I literally cannot. My brain wont let me. I try. I promise you I try. And then I see someone looking at you and its like a switch flips and Im not in control anymore and by the time I come back theres."
She dropped her hands from her face. Looked at him. Really looked at him. He was standing there in his ruined shirt with the popped buttons. Hair messy from where she'd pulled it. Lip split and bleeding from where she'd bit it. And he looked lost. For the first time all night he looked actually lost. Not controlled. Not calm. Just a boy who didnt know how to be a person without the one thing that made him feel like he had a purpose.
She hated that it made her chest ache.
She hated that she loved him.
"Your so broken," she whispered.
"Does that make me broken."
"I think we established that. Yeah."
She stared at him. He stared back. The city hummed behind her. The blood spots sat in the hallway. The night was ruined and the argument wasnt over and nothing was fixed and nothing was okay.
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in and kissed him.
This time it was different. Still hard. Still desperate. But with something else underneath it. Something that felt like grief. Like she was mourning something. The version of herself that could have walked away. The version of him that could have been normal. The life they could have had if love was simple and clean and didnt come with blood on the floor.
They stumbled away from the wall. His hands found the zipper on the back of her dress and pulled it down in one motion. Rough. Efficient. The dress loosened around her and she shoved his jacket off his shoulders and it hit the floor with a weight that felt final.
"Your making me so fucking angry," she said against his mouth.
"I love you and I hate that I love you."
He pulled back just enough to look at her. His eyes were black. His breathing was ragged. "I know. I know you do. I know its hard. I know it hurts. I know."
She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him again because she didnt want to hear any more words. Words were what got them into this. Words were how he justified everything. She wanted to stop thinking. Just for a minute. Just for long enough to remember what it felt like to not carry the weight of what he was.
His shirt came off. Her hands were on his chest and she could feel his heart beating fast under her palm. That surprised her. That his heart was racing. He always seemed so still so controlled. But his heart was pounding like hers and that made her feel something she couldnt name.
Her dress fell. She was in her underwear now. Black lace. Something she'd put on this morning without thinking about it and now it felt like a costume. Like she was playing a role in a play she didnt audition for.
He looked at her. Just looked. His eyes moving over her body like he was seeing it for the first time. Like he was memorizing it. Like somewhere in the back of his mind he was filing this moment away in one of those mental folders he kept.
"You are so beautiful," he said. And his voice cracked on the word beautiful. Actually cracked. Like the control wasnt just slipping. It was gone.
"Talk to me like that. Like your in love with me. Not right now."
"I am in love with you. Right now. Especially right now."
"I know but I cant. I cant think about that right now because if I think about that I have to think about the fact that the man who loves me just killed someone and I cant hold both of those things at the same time."
"So dont hold them. Just be here. Just be here with me. Right now. Thats all Im asking."
He said it so simply. Like it was easy. Like she could just flip a switch and turn off the part of her brain that knew what he'd done. But she couldnt. She couldnt turn it off. It was there. Right there. Every time he touched her it was there. A voice saying this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong.
His hands were on her. Pulling her close. Skin to skin now. His chest against hers and he was warm and solid and real and her body didnt care about right or wrong. Her body just wanted.
He walked her backward. Down the hall. Past the blood spots. She saw them in her peripheral vision. Dark against the light wood. A trail leading away from the door like a path left by something wounded. And she was walking past them. In her underwear. Being led to bed by the man who'd made them.
This is insane. This is actually insane. I am actually insane.
He kicked the bedroom door open. The back of her knees hit the mattress and she went down and he was on top of her immediately. His mouth on her neck. Her collarbone. His hands everywhere. Pulling at straps. Dragging fabric down.
And the voice was still there. He just killed someone. He just killed someone and now his mouth is on my body and I shouldnt want this. I should NOT want this. But it feels so good. It feels so good and I hate that it feels so good and I hate that I love him and I hate that I cant stop.
She looked at him. He was above her. One hand braced on the mattress. The other sliding down her stomach. Lower.
His fingers moved lower. Pressed against her. She gasped.
"Say it Serenity. I need to hear it."
She grabbed his wrist. Not to pull him away. Just to hold on. Her nails dug into his skin and he didnt flinch. He never flinched. And she stared up at him and the words came out of her like they were being pulled from somewhere deep.
"Im yours. Fuck. Im yours okay. Are you happy."
His mouth curved. Not a full smile. Just one side. Small and private and for her only.
He pulled his hand away and she almost whined at the loss and then he was undoing his pants and pushing them down and she reached for him and he was hard and hot in her hand and she stroked him once twice and he made a sound low in his throat that she felt more than heard.
He pushed her hand away. Positioned himself. Pressed against her. Not inside yet. Just there. Waiting.
Her voice broke on the last word. He pushed inside.
It wasnt slow. Wasnt careful. He filled her in one long thrust and she cried out and her nails raked down his back and he groaned into her neck and started moving. Fast. Hard. The bed frame hit the wall with a rhythm that matched her heartbeat.
And the voice was screaming now. He killed someone. He killed someone tonight and Im letting him inside me and it feels so good and thats sick. That is SICK. Whats wrong with me. Whats wrong with me that I can be this angry and this turned on at the same time. That I can feel his hands on my body and want more while I know what those hands did a few hours ago.
But she couldnt stop. She didnt want to stop. Thats the thing that broke her heart. She didnt want to stop.
"You make me crazy," he said. His voice was rough. Ragged. The control was slipping and she could hear it. "You have no idea what you do to me. What I would do. What I HAVE done."
"I know what youve done." She was gasping between words. "Thats the problem."
"Its not because your still here. Your still under me. Your still saying my name."
She was saying his name. She realized it distantly like hearing herself from another room. Alejandro. Alejandro. Like a prayer or a curse or both.
He shifted angles and hit the spot that made her see white and her back arched off the mattress and her hand found his shoulder and squeezed. His rhythm didnt change. Steady. Relentless. Like he could do this forever. Like he would die happy right here.
And through the pleasure the voice kept going. This is wrong. This is so wrong. He killed a man and Im in bed with him. Im in love with him. I love him. I love him and he kills people and I love him and that doesnt make sense and it doesnt have to make sense because my body doesnt care about making sense it just cares about him.
Tears were running down the sides of her face into her hair. She didnt know when she'd started crying. Wasnt sure they were sad tears. Wasnt sure they were happy tears. They were just tears. Everything coming out at once.
He noticed. Of course he noticed. He noticed everything.
"Dont cry." He slowed down. Leaned down. Kissed the tears off her cheek. "Dont cry baby."
"Do you want me to stop."
"No." She grabbed his face. Made him look at her. "Dont you DARE stop."
Something flashed in his eyes. Something dark and deep and hungry. He kissed her hard and started moving again. Faster this time. Deeper. Like her words had unlocked something.
It went from her hip to her throat. Not squeezing. Just resting there. His fingers wrapped around the column of her neck and she felt her own pulse beating against his palm and everything slowed down for a second. The room got very quiet. Even the bed frame stopped its knocking.
She looked up at him. His eyes were black in the low light. His face was open in a way it almost never was. No mask. No control. Just raw wanting and something else underneath it that looked like worship.
Not hard. Not all at once. Gradually. Like he was turning a dial. Pressure building on either side of her windpipe. Not cutting off air completely but making it smaller. Making each breath something she had to work for.
And the voice was there but quieter now. Muffled by the lack of oxygen. By the way her brain was going soft at the edges.
He just killed someone. His hands. These hands. They killed someone. And now theyre on my throat and I should be terrified and I AM terrified but Im also. I also. It feels. It feels.
Her vision fuzzed at the edges. Soft. Like the room was being dipped in watercolor. The lamp light from the hallway blurred into a smear of orange. His face above her was the only clear thing. The only thing in focus.
And he leaned down. Close. His mouth right next to her ear. His hips still moving inside her. Slow now. Deep. And his voice was the softest thing in the world.
She heard it through the watercolor blur. Clear as anything. Soft as anything. Like it was the only true thing he'd ever said. Like all the killing and the controlling and the obsession were just noise and this was the signal.
"I love you. I love you. I love you."
Each one a heartbeat. Each one pressing into her skull like it could rewrite something fundamental about who she was.
And the voice in her head wasnt screaming anymore. It was whispering. And what it was whispering was I love him too. I love him too and I hate it and I cant stop and I dont want to stop and he just killed someone and I love him and this is so fucked up and it feels so good and I love him I love him I love him.
He squeezed a little more. Her vision blurred more. The edges of the room disappeared. There was just him. His face above her. His body inside her. His hand on her throat. His voice in her ear.
She was close. So close. The pleasure building in her lower stomach like a wave that had been forming for miles and was finally about to break. And the lack of oxygen made everything sharper and duller at the same time. Like someone had turned up the contrast and turned down the brightness and everything was just FEELING with nothing else attached to it.
She came like that. With his hand on her throat and his words in her ear and her vision gone blurry and white at the edges. Her body clenched around him and her mouth opened and this time a sound came out. Something broken and raw that she didnt recognize as her own.
He let go. Air flooded back in. She gasped and her vision sharpened and the room came back in pieces. The ceiling. The lamp light in the hallway. His face above her. Flushed. Jaw tight. Eyes locked on hers like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
He followed her a few thrusts later. Buried deep. His whole body went rigid and he made a sound that wasnt quiet. Wasnt controlled. Was just raw and broken and hers. He collapsed forward onto his forearms. Careful not to put his weight on her. His forehead pressed against hers. Both of them breathing like they'd been underwater.
They stayed like that for a long time.
The apartment was quiet. The bed frame had stopped. The city hummed outside. Somewhere in the hallway there were blood spots on hardwood that neither of them had cleaned up yet.
He pulled out slowly and she felt the loss of it like a cold draft. He rolled to the side and lay on his back. One arm behind his head. Staring at the ceiling. She lay next to him. Staring at the same ceiling. Neither of them spoke.
The bruise was already forming on her throat. She could feel it. A dull ache spreading across the skin where his fingers had been. She didnt touch it. Didnt look at it. Just felt it exist.
After a while he turned his head toward her. She didnt turn toward him.
She didnt answer right away. Thought about the question. Whether okay was a word that applied to any part of tonight.
"But Im here," she added. And she didnt know why she said it. Didnt know what it meant. Didnt know if it was a comfort or a confession or just a fact.
"Your here," he repeated.
He reached over. His fingers found hers under the sheets. He laced them together. Held on.
"Im not sorry," he said. "For any of it. I need you to know that."
"Are you going to leave."
She closed her eyes. The ceiling disappeared. There was just the dark and the warmth of his hand around hers and the ache in her throat and the knowledge of what sat in the hallway like a stain that wouldnt come out.
She woke up at six fourteen in the morning. She knew the exact time because she'd been staring at the clock on the nightstand for twenty minutes before she admitted she was awake.
Alejandro was asleep next to her. On his stomach. One arm under the pillow. Face turned away from her. He slept like the dead. Always had. Like his body needed the darkness to function and when it got it, it took everything it could get.
She got up slowly. Quietly. Her feet hit the floor and she stood there for a second. Steadying herself. Her body ached in places that made last night rush back in pieces. Her thighs. Her hips. Her throat.
She walked to the bathroom. Closed the door. Didnt turn on the light because she wasnt ready for what the light would show her.
But she looked anyway. In the dark. The mirror was just a shape. A rectangle of slightly less dark in the dark. She leaned in and could make it out. Her own face. Vague. Ghostly.
Her throat was a mess. Purple and red fingerprints bloomed across the skin like a bruised flower. She touched it lightly and winced. It was tender. Swollen slightly. Not enough to be dangerous. Alejandro knew what he was doing. That thought made her stomach turn for a completely different reason than the blood on the floor had.
She looked at herself for a long time. At the bruise. At her eyes which were red and puffy from crying. At her hair which was a disaster. At the hickey on her collarbone that she didnt remember getting.
This is what I look like when I love him, she thought. This is what it looks like.
She turned off the light and went back to the bedroom. Alejandro hadnt moved. She stood in the doorway and watched him sleep and felt everything and nothing at the same time.
Then she walked down the hallway.
The blood spots were still there. Dried now. Dark brown instead of red. Smaller than they'd looked last night. Less alarming. Which was the scariest part. That they could start to look normal. That she could walk past them and not feel her stomach drop the way it had the first time.
She went to the kitchen. Got the cleaning supplies from under the sink. The spray bottle. The paper towels. Got on her knees on the hardwood and started scrubbing.
It took forty minutes. The dried blood came up slowly. She had to spray and wait and spray again and scrub hard and some of the spots had seeped into the grain of the wood and would probably always be faintly there no matter how much she cleaned. She scrubbed until her knees ached and her fingers were raw and the spots were gone. Mostly gone. Gone enough.
When she stood up Alejandro was in the hallway. Leaning against the wall. Watching her. She didnt know how long he'd been there.
"You didnt have to do that," he said.
They looked at each other. Morning light was coming through the windows now. Harsh and honest in a way the lamplight last night hadnt been. In the daylight he looked younger. Tired. The split on his lip had scabbed over. His eyes were soft with sleep.
"I have a studio session at ten," she said.
"Ill be back around two."
She picked up her bag. Walked to the door. Opened it.
He was standing in the kitchen. Coffee cup in his hand. Shirtless. Hair messy. Looking at her with those dark eyes that knew everything about her.
"I love you," he said. Simple. Clean. No blood on it this time. Just words.
She stood there for a second. The hallway outside the apartment was bright and empty. The elevator dinged somewhere down the corridor. The city was awake and moving and she was standing in the doorway with her bag on her shoulder and her throat covered in concealer and a dead man somewhere she didnt want to think about.
"I love you too," she said.
The door clicked shut behind her and she walked to the elevator and pressed the button and stared at the numbers counting down and did not cry. Not in the hallway. Not in the elevator. Not in the car on the way to the studio. She saved it for later. For the shower after the session when she was alone and the concealer had worn off and the bruise was visible again and she could look at it and know what it meant.
That she loved him. That she hated that she loved him. That she would go back to the apartment and he would be there with coffee and those dark eyes and she would walk through the door and into his arms and pretend that the spots on the hardwood had never existed.
That was the shape of her life. She knew it the way she knew her own name. Instantly. Completely. Without doubt.
And she kept walking anyway.
‘Someone sing pretty little bird anyway this was just an oc x oc with a close person of mine to stop my writers block and I hope you like it I haven’t wrote sex in a bit.. but don’t worry next story I post is gonna be Jensen ackles”
