and all the quiet nights you bear, seal them up with care
no one needs to know they’re there, or i will hold them for you
Fate is a cruel dealer, and he has dealt Brunhilde a horrid hand. She stares at the cards as they begin to shake in her hands, what poker face she once possessed melting to the disappointment of a lost game. Dark eyeliner shapes her darting eyes when she folds, slamming those fickle slips of paper to the felt surface with a soft gasp and an aversion of eyes. The grinning face of the card master morphs, reveals his devilishly handsome features and torn leather jacket.
Did her parents teach her that love will be easy? Gentle? Worthy?
Oh, maybe this is love. Maybe she is in love.
The hot trickling of her blood on her shoulders makes her gasp louder than ever before. She realizes how much she loves it just as her neck arches in disgusted protested. The brute’s teeth wrap around her mane and tug, forcing her muzzle to the sky as she releases a frightened and aroused moan. The way he forces himself into her cuts the noise straight from her throat, though, and her head drops to face the ground with the force of it. She can feel each hair as it is ripped from her neck, but she does not care.
She has not cared so little since she was young.
“Fuck me,” she whispers, but what she meant to say is fuck you. It is too late, the slip out of her mouth and into the jello-air that surrounds them. She is soaked with the rain and her tears, water dousing the very essence of her being.
“You’ve ruined me,” she gasps when Beelzebub is finished. He rests upon her back, the weight heavy and sick. She wants to rip him to shreds for feeling so relaxed as to use her as a cushion. When he slides off of her, she turns slowly to face him, eyes as broken as they are angry. The rain weighs down her long mane and sticks it to her neck. She snorts defiantly as he speaks, lifting a proud chin to his handsome face.
Brunhilde does the opposite of what she knows she should, just as she has done this entire encounter: she grabs onto his lips with her own and bites down until she tastes blood. Her lips find the edge of his ear, and she whispers, “And I’ll be fucking ready for you.”
A threat and a promise.
She turns tail and runs, hoping he cannot hear her as she breaks down into sobs.
