Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > Broken Pieces

Sandman

by AxleaRose 1 Reviews

I’ll wait ‘til morning ‘til he comes to my house And he’ll give no warning when he’s knocking me out

Category: Guns n' Roses - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Erotica - Characters:  - Warnings: [X] - Published: 2013/06/14 - Updated: 2013/06/14 - 1934 words

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Warm, snuggly, dark. You settle in, close your eyes and lock your arms around Kev, the beaten bear you’ve had since you were small, there’s patches of fur rubbed off and a mismatched leg from when Scotty, the neighbour’s old Labradoodle managed to wrestle it from your toddler’s grasp and race into the garden amidst loud wailing. You breathe in his comfortable smell, smile, shift into another position, wince as you turn your head on the pillow, and try to ignore the ache in your jaw. Sleep comes slowly and is interrupted when it does, a soft curse leaves your lips and you glare at your bedroom door as if your burning gaze could travel through the house, down the stairs, along the hall and physically force whoever it was away. When this didn’t happen however you drag yourself from your warm nest with a heavy sigh; the knocking continues at regular 20 second intervals “Alright I’m coming!!” you yell irritably reaching the bottom of the stairs and unconsciously adjusting your clothes, running a hand through dyed hair to ensure you look presentable. You tug your wife-beater again, you feel nervous, unsure of why. You wouldn’t dare go with a shirt at the moment, don’t want to go to school or see anyone, haven’t spoken to your parents properly for days, you don’t want the bruises seen, the one on your jaw aches harshly and you wince, turn the latch shiny silver metal gliding smoothly and you pull the door open slightly.

There’s a worried voice and slightly panicked face before their mouth opened and words fell out in a rush “…I’ve… are you ok?”
“Wha…?” you murmur confusedly, frowning as he sighs, seeming to recover himself and steps forward pushing on the door lightly. Wordlessly you step back to let him and allow the door to slip out of your loose grasp as he pushes it shut behind himself
“I said you’ve really worried me, you disappeared the other night and then you’re not at school for days. I’m being questioned, why aren’t you at school?”
“By who?” He rolls his eyes and leans against the wall, watching you “I didn’t mean to worry you, I’m sorry” he nods and pushes a hand through his hair like he expected the apology, like it was your fault he was feeling something other than his high
“Why haven’t you been at school?” you glance at him, his eyes are cool now he’s collected himself again, they used to be filled with warmth, love even, still are when he lets them caught off guard, you know he still cares about you, can feel it by the way he holds you.

Then he came back and picked up where they had left off, drinking and drugging themselves stupid. You hate him when he’s intoxicated. You hate him. Resentment is building, can feel your stance become defensive as you sigh sarcastically
“I don’t know. Maybe, maybe because I have a bruise on my face” he scowls but you don’t miss the small hint of remorse as you tuck your hair behind your ear, displaying the vibrant colours painted over your jaw and cheek “Or maybe it’s because it hurts to move at times as my back’s sore from being slammed against a door” you muse slowly, you can smell the drugs on his clothes. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, can sense his irritation building but your words are getting faster, slipping to reveal your anger. Angry about the way he was treating you “Or maybe I think we might have been seen”

He froze and you lean back against the opposite wall, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror beside his head. You’re glad to see that you have no fear, no worry in your eyes. To the casual observer he looks cool and unruffled but you know better, you’ve seen his skin pallor and his eyes lighten with panic “What?” his voice is husky, almost a croak as you nod, watching him coolly as he glanced to the side and swallowed thickly. His reaction has told you exactly what you needed; he knew what he was doing when he hurt you, it’s not all the drugs.
“I think one of my friends saw us go upstairs and followed, I saw them just before you kicked the door shut, which would explain why you’re being questioned”
“Who have you told?”
“About what?”
“Everything!” he snapped, straightening up fingers twitching, hands balled into a fist
“… Rob. He’s the only one I’ve told anything” your voice has gone quiet, whispery and fear is creeping back into your bones. Your bruises throb suddenly as if reminding you of how foolish pissing him off could be.

He glaring, stepping closer you try not to shrink away but you can feel your body moving, pulling from him as he stops in front of you, his breath is stroking your cheek and you shiver, hugging your sides. He places his arms either side of your head and you watch him carefully, trying to ignore the small voice that is saying you should have just stayed upstairs “It’s not Rob asking the questions” he hisses venomously “So I’ll ask again, who have you told?” you speak hurriedly, internally cursing yourself for stuttering
“R…Rob, he’s the only one, I swear. I don’t, I don’t want this to get out any more than you do”
“I don’t believe you”
“I, I promise I haven’t told anyone else” you say and place a hesitant hand on his chest, you couldn’t pass it off as a caress, you both know that you’re trying to escape. He glances at your hand then back to your face. You can see your expression in the mirror opposite. You’re scared. He leans closer, lips brushing your ear and murmurs silkily
“I don’t believe you” he takes your hand in his, tangles your fingers together using it to pin your hand against the wall. Your eyes follow it panic rising, could feel it rising in your throat and he places his warm palm against the bruise on your face, thumb rubbing lightly just under your eye, you wince automatically.

“I want you to stop hanging with Rob”
“What?” you’re shocked, wasn’t expecting him to ask it now, his eyes are cold
“You heard me”
“You… I’ve been friends with Rob since 3rd grade”
“He doesn’t want just friendship. I want you to stop hanging with him”
“Saul” you’re staggered, not wanting to believe that he would deliberately force you away from your friends, people that he doesn’t like. His eyes are curious, hidden behind a silent but confident threat; he was wondering you were actually going to let him do this. “I’m not doing that” you whisper softly avoiding his gaze; a whimper slips from your lips as he flexes his fingers, pressing them warningly into your bruise.
“What was that?” he’s quiet, giving you a chance to change your answer
“I’m not doing it” you’re terrified but determined. He won’t do this. You won’t be bullied into leaving your friends.

“Do you really want to do this Tracii? Do you feel strong enough to follow through with this?” he’s annoyed, surprised that you will still argue with him. You’re not broken yet.
“You won’t make me” he scoffed lightly and he relaxes his fingers running a hand along your jaw softly, changing tact as he leans in and presses kiss after easy kiss onto the bruise, following the miscoloured flesh. Your skin is tingling with a light stinging pain but there’s the oddest sensation of pleasure to it of much missed gentleness.
“Don’t fight me on this baby. We’ll be so much happier if you don’t. What does it matter if Rob’s feelings get a little hurt? He’ll understand if he cares. I care, I love you baby why aren’t I enough for you?” his voice is soft and strangely comforting, hypnotic and you find yourself nodding along to his words as his lips travelled to your neck, sucking and nibbling tenderly.

Your hand raises hesitantly to his face as his lips find yours, your hand is released and he places a soft calloused touch to your uninjured cheek tilting your face backward, deepening the kiss. His other hand snaked to your hip, warm fingers slipping under your waistband to fondle you firmly as his tongue danced with yours. You break away, shaky gasps filtering through your lungs allowing him to pull your wife-beater off to descend your torso leaving patches of wet messy kisses wherever he saw fit. He reaches mouth-level with your waistband, a smile quirks his lips and he kisses across from one to the other before tugging them to mid-thigh. Delicate nibbles to the supple silk skin, you’re tempted to pull away, have been since he touched you everything you have done since has been you giving and him receiving, you’re more comfortable that way, more in control.

A soft, almost shy suckle to the head brings forth a quiet moan and he looks relieved, you could both agree that it is certainly an improvement. He murmurs that he loves you and warm, cool breath makes you shiver as you look down and meet his eyes. They’re warm, loving and lust filled but there’s a hint of something you can’t quite recognise but they turn away and he focuses on the flesh caught between his lips as his fingers trail lightly over the inside of your thigh. His tongue comes alive and starts to wrestle vocalizations from your throat, he’s determined to make you enjoy this and you hate yourself but you are. You hate it that his touch has the ability to terrify you or make you go weak at the knees, his hand holds your hip pinned to the wall stopping you from moving although whether it would be to pull away or push forward neither of you are sure yet. He tongues up the underside and swirls around the tip, you groan, surprised at the volume and he hums, meeting your eyes once more as your stomach starts to build and your balls tighten. It’s still there, that something, it’s stronger now, you can recognise it now.

He’s smug.
You feel sick, you know you’ve given him exactly what he wanted by letting him do this, you want to get away, want to spite him but your eyes shut against your will and you moan raggedly, rock your hips as much as you can and release. He swallows, throat working against you and you whimper. He stands, redresses you and kisses your trembling mouth and kisses your forehead as he pulls the front door open stepping backwards away from you. You look towards him, your breathing was still erratic and your eyes were fighting the tears, his fingers stroke hauntingly once more over your jaw and he whispers softly “I will always love you Tracii” then the door shuts and he’s gone and you’re left, still pinned to the wall as if his hands were still there and all you can smell is sex and him.
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