Title: Silence

Author: Angelee

Fandom: Nip/Tuck

Pairing: Quentin/Oliver Brandt

Rating: Adult

Summary: Some encounters are silent

Beta: By my sister Anna. All remaining errors are mine-with apologies.

Silence

I’m holding onto the comforter for dear life as he pounds into me with all the anger and frustration in him. It hurts. I can’t say that it doesn’t because it does-a lot.

I don’t really want gentleness at this point. I didn’t even ask for kisses. Knowing instinctively, big, macho Corporal Oliver Brandt wouldn’t give them to me even if I did ask.

I seek the pain with the same violence he’s using to gain fulfillment in my body. The pain feels good. It’s not suppose to, but it does. It eases the ache deep in my soul.

I will never be whole. A part of me is missing. Readily given to others, but for some reason I was skipped. The Gods have chosen to punish me. Rightly so, I suppose.

I wonder with a part of my soul that still aches. What did I do in my other life that caused them to become angered with me? To punish me inside my mother’s womb?

I will never have what other men have. A home. A wife. Children. Conceived by my own seed. Never will I have these things.

I punish the world, for what I will never have. Yet I punish myself just as harshly.

Ah. A particular hard shove sends shooting pain up my spine. It is no more than I deserve.

I can here the dear Corporal muttering obscenities as he continues to thrust into me with a violence that makes my punishment all the sweeter.

No words are spoken. Not since I taunted him into taking me.

I’m good at that. I taunt Christian as well as Sean. Christian subtly. He won’t know what I’ve done to him until the time is right. Sean I do outright. Dating his beloved ex-wife and flaunting it in his face.

I loved the look in his face when he found out what I had done. Priceless.

I make no move to encourage the Corporal to find his pleasure in my body. Why should I? I can not do what he does. Why make it easier for those who do?

He’s getting angrier, unable to find release. He’s going to take it out on my body. That’s alright. I want it. I want all the anger and frustration and rage at his command. Aimed at me. Aimed all at me.

I want the pain. I want the blood this encounter will bring. No amount of preparation will stop the flow from my abused flesh.

I want the pain.

I seek it, hungrily.

As well as the blood.

When he’s done with me and I am alone, I will reach down between my legs ignoring the fact that I am a freak and touch the flowing blood. Bring it to my face and touch it with my tongue.

I bite my lip hard enough to make it bled when he shoves into me so hard I see stars. Pain, a sweet, sweet pain. I think that’s all I’ve ever felt. Why should this encounter be any different?

I don’t seek kisses. Who would kiss one such as I?

Certainly not Oliver Brandt.

I don’t seek gentleness.

One such as I doesn’t deserve it.

Though there’s a part of my soul. The part that can still feel who’d like to be touched with gentleness at least once.

Kissed with passion.

Kissed with love.

Touched with love.

I will never know these things.

Never.

I am doomed to find illicit encounters by strangers who could care less about the person they are fucking.

Silent encounters by total strangers.

No love.

No comfort.

No kisses.

Emptiness.

Because I don’t deserve anything else.

It’s what I seek.

What I want.

Isn’t it?