Willing Victim

A/N: You know the drill... i own nothing. And finally! The smut! hehe..

Mya Chandler stood at the door, unsure as to whether or not to knock. She hadn’t heard from her friend Darcy in almost three weeks except for a few hurried phone calls. She’d tried to convince Darcy to let her come over or take her out several times, but each time, Darcy had blown her off with some excuse. She understood that her friend was having a rough time, but that was no reason to cut herself off from the world. It wasn’t healthy. Somehow she knew that Darcy had spent the last month since the accident lying in bed watching Oprah. She hadn’t even contacted the other members of the band about whether to start looking for a new guitar player. Shotzi, the bassist, had already threatened to quit. It seemed that Belladonna’s Kiss was about to be disbanded without the knowledge of their frontwoman.

She reached up to knock lightly but didn’t get the chance, as Darcy opened the door first. “Mya!” she gasped, grabbing her chest. “You scared me.”

“Darcy… you…” She stopped and grabbed her friend, hugging her tightly. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Why?” Darcy embraced the girl detachedly and pulled away quickly. “I’m fine.”

“But when I talked to you last, you were a bit… fragile.” Mya looked at her questioningly.

“I’m doing lots better, really I am, Mya. But thanks for worrying about me.”

Mya smiled. “No problem. Can I come in?” She stepped forward past Darcy and into the apartment. She obviously wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Sure, Mya.” Darcy narrowed her eyes and followed the other girl inside.

Mya was glad to see that the apartment appeared to be clean and organized as usual. Everything in it’s place, as it always had been before. She’d been afraid that she would come over and find the place a mess, food and empty liquor bottles strewn here and there and find a drunk Darcy lying tangled in dirty sheets popping pills. Instead, Darcy looked more put-together than she ever did. Her choppy black hair was pinned back in tiny barrettes off of her face and she wore a white dress shirt, unbuttoned to the top of her cleavage with a pair of tightly fitting blue jeans. Large cardboard boxes were scattered around the living room. “So this miraculous change of mood… you must be seeing one hell of a therapist.”

Darcy smiled a little too wide. “You could say that.”

“Well that’s good. Talking about your issues with… you know. It’s good for you.”

“Mmmhmm…” Darcy didn’t seem to be paying much attention, but went back to throwing books into the boxes stacked around her.

“What’s all this?” Mya approached one of the boxes and peered inside.

“Just some old stuff that I’m getting rid of.”

Mya leaned down and picked up an old picture of Erik and Darcy, examining it. “Darce… are you sure you want to get rid of this?”

“What is it?”

“A picture of you… and Erik.”

“Toss it.”

“Darcy! You don’t mean that.” Mya rose from her spot and went over to her friend, jerking the book out of her hand, forcing her to look up. “You’re putting all this stuff in the attic? Why?”

“I’m not putting it in the attic. I’m getting rid of it. It’s all going to the dumpster. Tonight.”

“Getting rid of it? Why?”

“I don’t need it anymore.”

“But this is all of Erik’s stuff. His records, his clothes, pictures… what has gotten into you?” Mya looked at her with a worried expression.

“Nothing. I just don’t need all of these things lying around the house. I can’t keep thinking about him, Mya.”

“Yeah, but… throwing it all away? What if you change your mind later? You can’t get this stuff back once you throw it away.”

“That’s the idea. I don’t want to change my mind. I want it over and done with.”

“What about Erik--”

“What ABOUT Erik?” Darcy’s voice got louder as she rounded on her friend, a darkness clouding her green eyes. “Erik doesn’t care, Mya. He’s dead.”

“What in the hell is wrong with you?! You hide out in here for weeks, you don’t return anyone’s calls, you don’t even tell the band anything. They’ve turned down three gigs this week because they didn’t know what to tell the booking agent! If this is what your psychiatrist is telling you to do, then maybe you should find a new one!”

“You don’t know anything about me or Erik or my life… or my psychiatrist for that matter! Nor should you even presume to know anything about my mental health, Mya! I am not going to sit around here and wait around for Erik because he’s not coming back, Mya! He’s never coming back! So why should I sit around and wait to die!”

“Well Jesus Fucking Christ! You can’t just throw everything away like this part of your life never happened!”

Darcy glared at her friend, running her fingers roughly through her hair. “Maybe I wish it hadn’t.”

Mya caught a glimpse of something strange as Darcy raised her arm. The unbuttoned sleeve of the shirt fell down to her elbow, and she thought that she could see… no.. it couldn’t be. “Darcy… let me see your arm.”

“What?” She looked at Mya fiercely.

“Your arm. Let me see it.”

“No.” She suddenly realized that the shirtsleeve had fallen down her arm and she replaced it nervously.

“Why not? What are you hiding, Darcy?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why won’t you show me your arm?” Mya crossed her arms and stared at Darcy like a suspicious mother.

“Fine. Fine… there… you happy?” Darcy pulled up her sleeve and revealed a large, angry looking bruise, speckled with track marks, on the inside of her elbow.

“Oh my god… what have you done, Darcy…” Mya jerked the girl’s arm over and examined the bruising. “You can’t be taking drugs…”

“It’s not what you think. It’s just something to help me sleep, that’s all.”

“Darcy! You shouldn’t be taking drugs for any reason!”

“Oh look at Miss Goody Two-shoes! You take a little Xanex from time to time.”

“It was prescribed to me for anxiety! I don’t take it every day and I certainly don’t inject it into my arm! That looks like you’ve been doing it a lot! It looks like heroin! Don’t you remember what smack did to Tommy?”

“For fuck’s sake, Mya! I’m not a heroin junkie! Would you get off my back, please!?” She turned away, not wanting to hear anymore.

“No!”

Darcy rounded on Mya insanely. “Then get out of my house. Go on... get out! And take your sappy, sunny disposition with you! The only reason you were ever friends with us is so you wouldn’t have to have a life of your own!” When Mya didn’t move, Darcy started shoving her towards the door, nearly throwing her over a stack of boxes by the door.

“Darcy… please… listen to me.”

“Fuck you! I don’t want to listen! None of you understand what I’m going through, so just stay away!” As soon as Mya’s foot was out of the door, Darcy slammed it. Mya could hear the lock click behind her.

***********************************

“I felt so bad after she was gone. I shouldn’t have said those things to her. She’s been my friend for so long.” Darcy reclined on the fluffy leather couch and traced the tiny creases that were scattered across the shiny surface with her toe.

“She should learn to keep her nose out of other people’s business. She doesn’t know what you’re going through.”

“I know… but, she’s only trying to help.” She followed him with her eyes as he kneeled on the floor beside her on the couch. “Maybe I should call her and apologize. I have precious few friends.” Jonathan’s eyes fell and he looked at the floor sadly. “I didn’t mean that you weren’t. You’re probably the best friend I have right now.” She smiled at him weakly as he started preparing the syringe.

“You’re only saying that because I’m your connection.” He laughed under his breath at the absurdity of his words.

“No I’m not… I… I’ve really started to look forward to being with you.” She flinched as he tied the tourniquet around her arm. “And I hope the feeling is mutual.”

“If I didn’t enjoy your company, I wouldn’t keep it.” He smiled and thumped the bruise on her arm a few times, trying to get the vein to pop up.

“Have you ever… you know… thought about me?” She watched as he raised the glistening glass bottle up, punching the needle into the lid and drawing the clear fluid into the syringe.

“Thought about you how?” He was being deliberately obtuse, still playing the role of the good doctor… for now.

“As my friend… or maybe more?” She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks as he maintained complete composure, but a single icy blue eye slid higher to stare into hers. She noticed his jaw tense and though his hands were steady, he slipped with the full syringe and poured the liquid all over his hand and wrist, giving himself a sharp prick with the needle.

“Fuck.” His expression of displeasure was almost breathless as he dropped the syringe and vial.

“You stuck yourself. I can see the blood.” She took his hand, examining the small spot of blood on the web between his thumb and index finger.

“Not to mention spilling your entire dose for tonight all over my wrist. Hold on, let me get a cloth to get it up with.” He tried to get up, but Darcy kept hold of his hand tightly. She could see the slightly viscous liquid dripping from his fingertips and down the pronounced bones of his hand. Instinct took over quickly and she leaned forward, licking the bitter fluid from his fingertips. Catching each escaping drop with little catlike flicks of her tongue. He watched her with an almost clinical interest. He wasn’t completely ignorant of sex. He went to university like everyone else. But he’d always viewed sex as something used strictly to satisfy an animalistic urge. He wouldn’t say that he had been genuinely attracted to any of the girls he’d had sex with. They were merely toys to do with as he pleased then toss aside. But the way her lips smoothed over the sinewy tendons of his hand and then slid around the ends of his fingertips, sucking the last drops of the drug from his skin-- to say it was attractive would be an understatement. “I should get another syringe---”

“That won’t be necessary,” she whispered, her eyes pleading for him to return her affections. “I think I’ve had almost more than I can take.” Grabbing the collar of his shirt, she pulled his face closer and pressed her lips against his. She exhaled, relieved that she could finally feel his mouth against hers instead of just imagining it. For a moment he tensed, unsure as to whether he was going to allow this to happen, and then without warning, took her face in his hands, tilting it and deepening their kiss. His lips were soft, much softer than she had expected, and they caressed hers between them one at a time before forcing them apart and slipping his tongue into her mouth. Darcy gasped at his sudden enthusiasm and opened her mouth to his probing, wrapping her arm around his neck and inching closer to him.

She could feel the warmth of his body as he pulled her closer to him, finally dragging her off of the couch and into the floor with him. He let her crawl on top of him, kissing along his jawline, following it down to his throat where she nibbled and licked hungrily, enjoying the salty sweetness of his skin. His cheek was rough and she purred softly, rubbing it against hers. She sat back on her heels, straddling his midsection, and trying to pull the tattered Gotham University t-shirt he donned over his head. He grabbed her wrists, rolling over on top of her, using his knees to pin her wrists to the floor. “Don’t do that.”

Her eyes widened and a small well of fear bubbled up in her chest. “Do what?”

“I don’t want you to look at me. I mean… not like this.” His eyes suddenly darkened. “I don’t like it.” She could see that there was anger lurking beneath his calm, even tone.

“But I want to see you… really see you.”

He laughed and stared at the ceiling. “That’s impossible. No one can see me… really see me.”

“Help me, Jonathan… help me to see you…” she whispered, slipping her wrist out of his fading grasp. She slid her fingertips up his side and tested him, scraping her nails under the edge of the shirt and across his midsection. He gasped at her touch, but didn’t stop her this time. Her fingers were ice cold as she used them to feel her way around the sharp, angular lines of his chest. “Love me… to death…” Her lips lingered on “death” as she helped him pull the shirt over his head again. She sighed and started to sit up beneath him, raising her lips to his meager frame. He watched her lap and bite at the dark nipples, but tried to show no sign of pleasure. But as powerful as the mind was, it couldn’t stop the inevitable signs of physical arousal. Goosebumps popped out all over his skin and his breath quickened with every kiss until he was afraid of losing control entirely. She arched up to him, offering her mouth again, but he put a hand to her chest, pushing her back against the floor roughly.

She still wore the shirt that she’d swiped from his closet a few nights before, but he made short work of it, pulling it open savagely and making the buttons fly everywhere. He pressed the palms of his hands against her stomach, his thumb tracing around her bellybutton as he leaned forward and brushed light kisses over the exposed skin. He worked his way up her body, then leaned back, his fingertips hesitantly tracing the patterns of lace that covered each breast. It was as if he wasn’t sure if she would let him go this far, but she took his hand in hers and pressed it firmly to her breast, showing him how she wanted to be touched. And always a quick study, he picked it up instantly. She arched her back, offering more of her body to his touch. He became impatient with the unwavering undergarment and finally pulled at the fragile material until they heard it rip and give way, spilling her breasts into view. Darcy laughed, “I’m going to have to buy a whole new wardrobe after tonight…” He paid her no mind, but attacked her breasts savagely, biting down on a the center to stop her laughter. She gasped and wove her fingers into the messy waves of his hair, pulling him closer. She panted with arousal as he scraped his fingernail over one nipple while pulling the other between his teeth and rolling it gently against his tongue.

With a mischievous grin, Darcy slid her hands down his back, slipping them just under the waist of the jeans he still wore and pressed him tightly against her. She couldn’t help wrapping her legs around his waist in a gesture of impatience, but he was determined to make her wait. It wasn’t until she sneakily slipped her small hand between them, seeking out the hard core of his masculinity, that he stopped her, again twisting her wrist over her head and pinning it down. She whimpered as the little bones in her wrist bruise from the pressure against the hardwood floor. “A little pain to make you feel alive,” he whispered, smiling cruelly and pressing harder.

“Oww…” she groaned, trying to move her arm with little success. Her heart raced with the frightening realization that he wasn’t going to let her go.

He bent down and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent deeply. “I can smell your fear dripping from your pores. You’re afraid of what I might do next,…but more afraid that I might not do it.”

“Yes…” she whispered, arching up to him again. “Please…” With a mysterious wink that she was sure she’d seen before, he pulled her leg over his hip and stood up, taking her with him. He was surprisingly strong for a person who looked so frail.

They stumbled towards the bed, ramming into things as they passed until he finally tripped over the edge of the bed and they fell into it awkwardly. They barely noticed as they went to work, each tearing at the remainder of the other’s clothes. Under the cover of darkness, he was no longer self-conscious of his appearance and became bolder with every passing moment. They rolled over again and again, both fighting for dominance, until he finally won, trapping her beneath him and kicking her legs apart roughly.

When he finally took her, it was so sudden that she cried out in surprise. One sharp movement and he was buried completely inside. Erik had always been a slow and gentle lover. When they’d had sex, she’d always felt loved and complete. This didn’t feel like love, but crazed desperation. And she liked it. Unsure movements became hurried and pounding strokes that were certain to leave her marked for days afterwards. It wasn’t long before her whimpers became rhythmic cries then jerky screams as he manipulated each and every sensation. He kept an eerie composure that was slightly unnerving. Sensing that she was nearing her climax, he pulled back, almost ceasing to move, and laughing as she groaned with disappointment. His blue eyes blazed with a cold, icy stare that never wavered even as he forced his cock back into her fully. His only expression a slight tensing of his jaw and narrowing of his eyes. She clawed at his back until blood ran down in red streaks. Bringing her fingers to her mouth, she tasted his blood and rubbed it across her lips before he kissed her, biting back in retaliation until their blood mingled. When her orgasm came, it was fast and intense, her whole body shaking with its force. Before the shudders subsided, he pulled her up to him, holding her body tightly against his. Burying his growls of pleasure in her neck.

They held one another like that for a long time, waiting for the will to move. Slowly he lowered her back to the mattress and rolled over on his back beside her. He was silent, but pushed his hair back from his face and rubbed his eyes. He could feel the morning dose of clarity starting to crash and he closed his eyes against the whispers that were starting in his mind.

“Jonathan? Are you alright?” Darcy sat up on one elbow and watched him as he put his hand over his forehead.

“I’m fine.”

“You just look strange. Did I do something wrong?” She reached out to touch his chest but he pushed her away violently. “What? Whatever it is… I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything. Just… just leave. Now. Please.” He covered his face with his arms crossed over his head. “Don’t ask questions, just get out. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He knew that once the voices started, he wouldn’t be able to make them leave. And he wasn’t ready for her to know them yet. He got up quickly and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Darcy sat in the middle of his bed silently for a minute. Looking around in the darkness and wondering what she should do. She was afraid to leave for fear that she’d never hear his voice again. But what else was there to do? Sighing, she got up and began to redress. Walking to the living room, she found the shirt she’d worn lying buttonless alongside her tattered bra. Unsure of what else to do, she grabbed the Gotham University shirt that he’d been wearing and pulled it over her head.

She stood outside the bathroom door and knocked lightly. “Jonathan?”

“What?” His voice sounded labored and gravelly.

“I’m leaving now. I took your shirt… Mine was destroyed.”

“Fine.”

“Can’t I just see you and kiss you goodbye?” Darcy leaned on the door heavily, willing it to open.

“No!” he answered quickly and forcefully, then softened a bit. “I mean, no… not right now. But I’ll call you. I promise.”

“If you need anything--”

“Just go!” he shouted painfully and she backed away from the door, stepping backwards until she stumbled over an old briefcase, then turned to run from the apartment.