Categories > Celebrities > 30 Seconds to Mars > Blue Hair And Paper Flowers
Shannon slammed her against the wall, slammed her hard, knocked the air out of her lungs. She dug her nails into his bare shoulders, heard him moan, his chest rising against hers.
“Just. The. Way. I. Like. It.”
He had smiled as he said it, feeling her legs wrap around his hips, her body brushing against his, creating just the reaction they needed in that very sensible area between their legs.
She smiled back at him, bit his lip. Bit it hard. The rusty taste of blood turned her on more than ever. He shut his eyes, didn’t say a word, just rammed himself inside of her, ripped her tights.
She screamed, couldn’t help it. He clasped a hand tight over her mouth, chased air and the sound back into her throat as she clawed at his back and at his shoulders, feeling his body press against hers.
Now came the choking.
Now came the fun.
They tore from the wall to the floor, he was on top of her, knees on either side of her hips, pressing his fingers, those strong, calloused fingers, over her trachea, and she felt exhilarated as the air started to slip out of her lungs, as the familiar choking feeling made her go limp and panic, sweet panic, her drug of choice, started drowning her. He was smiling, almost grinning, venting the frustration and the stress and the negativity in that simple, savage, brutal gesture, that one gesture that would then transform itself in his hands finally letting go and stroking her cheek, letting her catch her breath. And then he opened her legs and out of nowhere came a small swiss blade. She knew what he wanted to do, and it scared her. Never had they pushed themselves so far, never had he dared hurt her there, but he had just fought with Alena and Rebecca new he needed to vent, so she didn’t say a word, not even a whisper. And when the blade started to trail her thigh, droplets of blood delicately drawing roses on the white rug, she bit her lower lip and moaned while pain and fear and pleasure mingled. He was desperately trying not to jam the blade deeper: the rage and the need to vent it all was crushing. Alena suspected he was seeing someone else. After all, she had seen the bruises, the scars, the fresh wounds, the scabs. And the arousal he felt was there only when he inflicted pain, but Alena didn’t know that, Alena couldn’t even imagine how much he suffered. How much his suffering, in his distorted and twisted mind, made him so special. And how lucky he had been to find a girl who had his same problem. Everybody thought Jared was fucked in the head, and he was, he sure was. But hating yourself for eating was nothing compared to his illness, right? He was sick, he hurt others because it turned him on, he was so, so, sooooo sick and he needed help. There were loads of people with anorexia but sadists and masochists were seen as some kind of monsters and maybe they would’ve finally realized that Shannon Leto was special, too, Shannon Leto was just as special as his little brother.
Shannon didn’t notice the blood flow, Shannon didn’t notice he had cut too deep, Rebecca’s mind was paralyzed, because her friend was scaring her. For the first time, Shannon had broken the boundaries. He had gone too far.
She felt the red, hot blood splash her legs. Her mind immediately tried to normalize it all, her mind immediately said something around the lines of Go get a pad and she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t give Shannon away. She couldn’t give them away. He pinned her wrists to the floor and kissed her. He was hard. He was turned on. She felt her heartbeat explode inside her ears, as awareness slipped away, as her body went limp because her mind was too clouded even to breathe.
The last thing she heard was a door open, and a scream, and somebody ripped Shannon away from her, and she recognized Jared Leto’s eyes stare into hers, look for any remaining sign of life.
All went black, and the taste of rust flowed between her teeth.
“Just. The. Way. I. Like. It.”
He had smiled as he said it, feeling her legs wrap around his hips, her body brushing against his, creating just the reaction they needed in that very sensible area between their legs.
She smiled back at him, bit his lip. Bit it hard. The rusty taste of blood turned her on more than ever. He shut his eyes, didn’t say a word, just rammed himself inside of her, ripped her tights.
She screamed, couldn’t help it. He clasped a hand tight over her mouth, chased air and the sound back into her throat as she clawed at his back and at his shoulders, feeling his body press against hers.
Now came the choking.
Now came the fun.
They tore from the wall to the floor, he was on top of her, knees on either side of her hips, pressing his fingers, those strong, calloused fingers, over her trachea, and she felt exhilarated as the air started to slip out of her lungs, as the familiar choking feeling made her go limp and panic, sweet panic, her drug of choice, started drowning her. He was smiling, almost grinning, venting the frustration and the stress and the negativity in that simple, savage, brutal gesture, that one gesture that would then transform itself in his hands finally letting go and stroking her cheek, letting her catch her breath. And then he opened her legs and out of nowhere came a small swiss blade. She knew what he wanted to do, and it scared her. Never had they pushed themselves so far, never had he dared hurt her there, but he had just fought with Alena and Rebecca new he needed to vent, so she didn’t say a word, not even a whisper. And when the blade started to trail her thigh, droplets of blood delicately drawing roses on the white rug, she bit her lower lip and moaned while pain and fear and pleasure mingled. He was desperately trying not to jam the blade deeper: the rage and the need to vent it all was crushing. Alena suspected he was seeing someone else. After all, she had seen the bruises, the scars, the fresh wounds, the scabs. And the arousal he felt was there only when he inflicted pain, but Alena didn’t know that, Alena couldn’t even imagine how much he suffered. How much his suffering, in his distorted and twisted mind, made him so special. And how lucky he had been to find a girl who had his same problem. Everybody thought Jared was fucked in the head, and he was, he sure was. But hating yourself for eating was nothing compared to his illness, right? He was sick, he hurt others because it turned him on, he was so, so, sooooo sick and he needed help. There were loads of people with anorexia but sadists and masochists were seen as some kind of monsters and maybe they would’ve finally realized that Shannon Leto was special, too, Shannon Leto was just as special as his little brother.
Shannon didn’t notice the blood flow, Shannon didn’t notice he had cut too deep, Rebecca’s mind was paralyzed, because her friend was scaring her. For the first time, Shannon had broken the boundaries. He had gone too far.
She felt the red, hot blood splash her legs. Her mind immediately tried to normalize it all, her mind immediately said something around the lines of Go get a pad and she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t give Shannon away. She couldn’t give them away. He pinned her wrists to the floor and kissed her. He was hard. He was turned on. She felt her heartbeat explode inside her ears, as awareness slipped away, as her body went limp because her mind was too clouded even to breathe.
The last thing she heard was a door open, and a scream, and somebody ripped Shannon away from her, and she recognized Jared Leto’s eyes stare into hers, look for any remaining sign of life.
All went black, and the taste of rust flowed between her teeth.
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