Work Text:
You’re supposed to be angry. Instinctively, you know it in your gut. You do. Really, really angry.
But he has you up against the wall, his thick thighs locking you in place and two fingers curled up inside of you and you can’t remember why.
You surge forward, the misplaced rage seething, and a scarred hand on your collarbone slams your shoulders back, trapping you.
Your eyes squeeze shut because you know that if you open them all you’ll see is that marred, crooked grin, so smug, so sure that he has you now. And goddammit… his fingers speed up, skilled and talented and hitting you just right with every thrust and you know he’s fucking right. You bite your lip just in time to barely stifle a moan.
His lips are against yours, his fingers never slow, never lose their exquisite rhythm as he breathes against you, “If I make you cum, you can’t be mad at me anymore.”
You clench around him, your hands flying up to wrap around his neck as you shiver, tingling heat flowing through your limbs with your release.
He laughs, his mouth hot against your neck.
Asshole.