Fic: Dissolved Girl
Mar. 1st, 2012 01:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinelagrandeTitle: Dissolved Girl
Summary: It's a tradition.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 2774
Rating/Contents: NC-17. It's M/F noncon, so I'm just gonna go on and cut this off here. Double penetration, voyeurism, violence, face slapping, face fucking, homophobia, memory erasure, size kink, shame kink, possessive behavior. God almighty, reading this list it looks like I got more kinks than words.
Pairing: Azazel/Raven, Riptide/Raven, Erik/Raven
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: Very conflicted about posting this story, flist. Because what are the two things we need less of? Depictions of rape and kink shaming. And oh, the "fun" times to be had when the need to avoid both of them results in tension. And I feel like writing it and not posting it (for reasons other than "oh this is not technically good" or "oh I want to keep this to read in my closet all alone") is hypocritical of me, as well as a fuck off to people like, y'know, me, who're cruising around trying to find this type of stuff. So. You wanna hear it, here it goes.
--
The first thought she has is that the bed has gotten really, really hard; she's just woken up out of an unusually deep nap, and everything is a little bleary for a minute.
And then she realizes she's not in bed at all, nor is she in her room. Of all the random places to be, she's in Erik's study; of all the random things to be doing there, she's handcuffed and laying across Erik's desk, her feet almost touching the floor on one side and her head almost hanging off on the other.
She goes to get up, but there's a hand at her back, pushing her down hard. "Good afternoon, Mystique," Azazel says. "We were wondering when you would join us."
"What the hell is going on?" she demands, struggling against the handcuffs.
"It's nothing, my darling," Azazel says, stepping in front of her. "Just a tradition- a way to welcome our new female membership."
"Except that before we had a telepath and a girl who spits acid," Riptide says.
Azazel grins, his teeth bright against his red skin. "So we're starting it with you."
"Nice prank," she says. "Charmingly misogynistic of you. Now let me go."
"We haven't even started yet," Azazel tells her. "Though you are already naked. That's a step in the right direction."
Her eyes widen, suddenly realizing what the fuck is going on here. She shifts her form quickly, trying to shuffle through anyone small she can remember, anyone with tiny wrists that will let her get her hands loose so she can fight them off. They're just too fast; maybe if there was only one of them, but with the both of them holding her down, it's no use. "You can pick whatever face you like, but you're not going to stop us," Azazel says. "Choose wisely."
Everything about that statement is sickening and terrifying; she lets herself change back into her natural form. She can just see the wall clock, checks the time. "Erik's going to be back any minute, and he's going to kill you when he gets here."
"When Erik gets here," Azazel says, laughing.
"If he can defend his property, then he can have it back," Riptide says.
She thrashes wildly again, all at once, trying to startle them, but it doesn't work; this time Azazel whips his tail around, sending it towards her tip first, and Raven freezes. He stops it maybe a centimeter from her neck, and she doesn't dare move again, flicking her eyes down at it warily. "That's very smart of you," Azazel says, and he comes around to stand in front of her, his tail staying exactly where it is, unwavering.
She swallows, hoping that the motion itself won't bring her closer to it. Azazel unbuttons his pants, zipping them down, and it's a problem that the least disturbing thing about all of this is that his cock is the same bright red as the rest of his body. He's already hard, and Raven wants very badly not to look, but she's petrified, maybe too much to even close her eyes.
"If you bite me," Azazel says, and he pushes the tip of his tail ever so slightly into her skin, just enough to draw a drop of blood, "I don't have to tell you what I'll do." With that, he grabs her, pulling her onto his cock. She tries to shout, but there's nothing to be done. He doesn't waste time, moving her head back and forth, pushing in hard enough that her eyes start to water.
Riptide spits onto his fingers, and she knows what's coming; but then he surprises her, touching them to her clit instead, rubbing a little less than gently but not too hard. This is maybe worse, making her body respond instead of taking her purely by force- that way would be so painful, but this way is so shameful. He slips two of his fingers inside her, fucking her with them, and she wishes it hurt more, she wishes it hurt so much more, just so that no one could blame her, accuse her of wanting this.
But then he's pushing inside of her, and they've got her filled up. The thought is still distant, insulated, wrapped in too much disbelief, but that's rapidly shattering, breaking down every time they push and pull her back and forth, taking her, violating her.
"I bet it's not like this when Lehnsherr fucks you," Azazel says, and a chill goes up her spine. He pulls on her hair, forcing her to look up at him; she thinks about what kind of picture she must make right then, her eyes wide, his cock still in her mouth, and she's so glad that she can't blush, can't give him the satisfaction of knowing how incredibly embarrassed she is. "He doesn't even fuck you, does he? Everyone knows how much you want him. He just lets you pant after him like a bitch in heat, makes you walk around naked for him." He shoves in harder, hard enough that she starts to choke. "Such a whore for him, and he hasn't even taken you to bed." He laughs. "And he's not going to after this, not after we're through with you."
He finally pulls away, and she sucks in a breath, as much air as she can, enough that she feels dizzy; Azazel laughs at her some more, and she tries very hard not to flinch as he trails the tip of his tail down her cheek, scratching her lightly. "Switch with me," he says to Riptide. "I want to try the other end."
They change places, and she's not any better off than she was a moment ago. Maybe she's a little worse; Azazel's fucking her harder than Riptide was, his claw-like fingers digging into her hips. When Riptide shoves his cock into her mouth, he tastes like her; it might be intimate, appealing somewhere else, but here it's vulgar, humiliating. "Suck me," he says, and she shakes her head; he can do what he likes, but he can't force her to help.
He pulls her off his cock, his hand gripping her hair so tightly that tears spring to her eyes. He backhands her, but she manages to take it, shaking her head again. He does it again and again, until it's really hurting, until she thinks her lip might be bleeding.
"Stop," she says weakly. "I'll- just stop."
He pushes his cock into her mouth again, his hand on the back of her head. "Make it good."
She shuts her eyes, trying to think about anything else. Maybe if she just does it well enough, does it fast enough, maybe she can end this as soon as possible. Maybe it'll take her attention away from Azazel's hard thrusts, the way his fingers dig into her skin.
"Jesus Christ," Riptide mutters. "This bitch was made to suck cock."
"Worth waiting for, wasn't it?" Azazel says. He suddenly takes his hand away from her hip; she struggles, fighting to keep him out when he presses his thumb into her ass. "Good," he says. "She knows what's coming." She didn't even think about it, didn't consider that this could get worse, but if they try that, then Azazel's just going to have to kill her, because she won't stop fighting.
She's trying so hard to keep it together, to not fall absolutely to pieces, but it's not working. Riptide is fucking her mouth slowly as she sucks, his hand fisted in her hair, like he's got no interest in coming any time soon. He pushes in deep, and when her eyes tear up from it, she just stops trying not to cry.
They keep fucking her and fucking her, using her, and it's only an eternity later that the door to the study opens.
"Magneto," Azazel says, abruptly pulling out of her. "We didn't expect you back so soon." She's been wanting and dreading this moment so much, so much more than she could express; her stomach churns at the thought of Erik seeing her like this, what they've reduced her to, but thank god he can stop it, end this nightmare.
"What is going on in here?" Erik says. His voice is disinterested, steely, the way that he's been trying to cultivate since they formed the Brotherhood, but there's no way anyone could miss the rage boiling behind it.
Except Riptide, apparently. "What does it look like?" he sneers. It's an error in judgment, because suddenly he's pinned to the wall, a pair of daggers through his shoulders.
"Erik," Raven says hoarsely, "Erik, help me."
"Just a little fun," Azazel says lightly.
"This is your idea of fun?" Fingers- Erik's, no talons- brush against her palm, and she grasps at them for reassurance.
"It is quite diverting," he responds, and she can hear his Cheshire Cat grin.
"You can do what you like, but this one's mine," he says coldly. "You leave it alone." Azazel snorts. "What, do you want me to prove it to you? We can do that right now, if that's what it takes to keep you idiots in line. I'm not the least bit concerned."
This can't be what it sounds like it is; he can't be offering what it sounds like he is. "Erik," she whines.
"Shut up," he snaps, but he's rubbing her back, almost like he's trying to soothe her.
"Go on, then," Azazel says. "Prove it."
When she hears the sound of his zipper, Raven puts her face down against the desk, sobbing; all her hopes are dashed, and if she had a choice right now, she'd rather die than let this go on. Erik's doing something behind her, getting himself ready, and he bends down over her.
"I have to do this, Raven," Erik says urgently into her ear. "I have to do this or they won't stop, Raven. Just get through it. Emma can fix it later. You'll never have to know."
"Please, Erik," she begs. "Please just let me go."
"I want you, Raven," he tells her, "but not like this, never like this."
"Erik, don't," she pleads, but he doesn't listen, just spreads her legs wider and pushes into her. His cock is thicker than anything she's ever taken, and it just doesn't stop; he's finally all the way inside of her, and she's never been more full. She gasps for breath, but it only gets harder when he starts moving, thrusting into her.
It's different now that it's Erik; it's not supposed to be, she knows that, but at least there's a small measure of comfort in the fact that he's not trying to hurt her- or at least, he says he's not. She's not sure how the fuck this is a good plan, but it's hard to think about that, it's hard to think about anything other than Erik's huge cock inside of her. This is the wrong goddamned time to find out that she likes it, the way it's spreading her open, lighting her up inside, touching her everywhere.
The pleasure is outstripped by how much she hates herself for it, but it's starting to get away from her, starting to get harder to fight back, starting to get harder to remember that anyone's even watching, that this isn't between the two of them, isn't just a power struggle played out using her body.
"Raven," Erik says gently, softly enough that she knows it's just for her to hear. "Raven, it's okay. Just trust me."
He moves faster, pressing in just the right way, and she comes around him, arching off the desk and shaking, her fingers clutching at nothing. "You see that?" Erik growls, and everything crashes back down in again, the oppressive shame of it all, only made worse by what she's just done, what she's given up, what she's admitted. "My whore only wants it from me. The two of you put together aren't as good as I am. You might as well go back to sucking each other's cocks."
Riptide starts to say something, but then he screams; Raven doesn't need to see to know that Erik's just twisted the knives in his shoulders. Erik starts fucking her harder then, shoving her up against the desk, pounding in, and now it's enough to hurt. She can feel it when he starts to come, throbbing inside of her; he pulls out before he's done, just so that the last pulses can splash across her back, so that she's marked inside and out.
She can hear him zipping up, and then his hand is heavy on her back, his fingers clutching at her skin. "Now get the hell out of my office," he snaps; she hears the daggers drop to the floor, quickly retreating footsteps.
Erik's hands are gentle as he snaps the handcuffs open, and she flexes her fingers, trying to get the circulation back. He carefully rolls her over onto her back, and the light overhead is painful even through her eyelids. "Raven," Erik says, his hand stroking down the side of her face, but she keeps her eyes shut; she won't look at him, can't look at him.
He picks her up gently, cradling her in his arms; she feels slick and swollen and sore everywhere, and it hurts when he starts walking, the way her body moves when he takes a step. He's walking through the house, and she clings to him, hoping that no one sees, not that there are many of them left who don't know.
His footfalls get softer and there's the scent of jasmine; they must be in Emma's room. Erik lays her out on the couch, his hand resting gently on her shoulder.
Someone- Emma, it must be Emma- approaches, standing over her, and she sighs. "This is why we can't have nice things," she says, but nothing about it is mocking or callous; she just sounds resigned and sad.
And then everything fades away.
--
She and Erik-
You don't date, in their line of work. You are or you aren't, and one day they just were. Raven doesn't remember even having a conversation about it; she just remembers their first time, how gentle he was with her, how unlike himself he was, how he just held her forever and ever, until sunlight was streaming in through the windows.
It got old really fast, but it was nice anyway.
One thing she really should have seen coming- not that she saw any of this coming- is how incredibly possessive Erik is. In another situation, it would probably drive her crazy, maybe even be a dealbreaker, but that's not how their life works; except people they're actively trying to kill, their social circle consists of Emma, Angel, Azazel, and Riptide. She's straight, so the first two are out, and of the remainder, she's pretty sure that Riptide's an idiot and even more sure that Azazel might actually be the Devil- the Devil from mythology.
Sometimes she catches one of them looking at her, sidelong; it's annoying and crass, but not exactly unexpected. They're learning very quickly not to do it when Erik is around; he won't hesitate to bawl them out, pulling her to him and glaring at them murderously. She sees them exchange confused glances, like they're wondering what the fuck they did wrong to make Erik so determined to put the fear of God into them.
He's always harder on her later, when they're in bed. He pushes her knees up to her chest, fucks her so hard she gets sore- the good kind of sore, the kind where she remembers everything the next day whenever she moves just so.
"Tell me," he always says, low and desperate.
"Yours, Erik," she pants. "Always yours, just yours." It's never the reverse, never "mine," as if he wants her to give but he doesn't want to claim. It doesn't matter to her, not as much as the relief on his face when she says it, the way he groans, clutching her tighter, rocking into her harder.
"You don't have to be anybody else's," he tells her afterwards, holding her, and he looks so sad, so lost; sometimes there are tears, and she can't bear to look. "You don't even have to be mine."
"Of course I want to be yours," she tells him, stroking his hair. "I always have." He doesn't answer, just leans down and kisses her, and she settles in beside him, sleepy and lax.
Just once, as she was drifting off, she thought she heard him say, "You shouldn't."
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/390931.html.
comments over there.
Summary: It's a tradition.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 2774
Rating/Contents: NC-17. It's M/F noncon, so I'm just gonna go on and cut this off here. Double penetration, voyeurism, violence, face slapping, face fucking, homophobia, memory erasure, size kink, shame kink, possessive behavior. God almighty, reading this list it looks like I got more kinks than words.
Pairing: Azazel/Raven, Riptide/Raven, Erik/Raven
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: Very conflicted about posting this story, flist. Because what are the two things we need less of? Depictions of rape and kink shaming. And oh, the "fun" times to be had when the need to avoid both of them results in tension. And I feel like writing it and not posting it (for reasons other than "oh this is not technically good" or "oh I want to keep this to read in my closet all alone") is hypocritical of me, as well as a fuck off to people like, y'know, me, who're cruising around trying to find this type of stuff. So. You wanna hear it, here it goes.
--
The first thought she has is that the bed has gotten really, really hard; she's just woken up out of an unusually deep nap, and everything is a little bleary for a minute.
And then she realizes she's not in bed at all, nor is she in her room. Of all the random places to be, she's in Erik's study; of all the random things to be doing there, she's handcuffed and laying across Erik's desk, her feet almost touching the floor on one side and her head almost hanging off on the other.
She goes to get up, but there's a hand at her back, pushing her down hard. "Good afternoon, Mystique," Azazel says. "We were wondering when you would join us."
"What the hell is going on?" she demands, struggling against the handcuffs.
"It's nothing, my darling," Azazel says, stepping in front of her. "Just a tradition- a way to welcome our new female membership."
"Except that before we had a telepath and a girl who spits acid," Riptide says.
Azazel grins, his teeth bright against his red skin. "So we're starting it with you."
"Nice prank," she says. "Charmingly misogynistic of you. Now let me go."
"We haven't even started yet," Azazel tells her. "Though you are already naked. That's a step in the right direction."
Her eyes widen, suddenly realizing what the fuck is going on here. She shifts her form quickly, trying to shuffle through anyone small she can remember, anyone with tiny wrists that will let her get her hands loose so she can fight them off. They're just too fast; maybe if there was only one of them, but with the both of them holding her down, it's no use. "You can pick whatever face you like, but you're not going to stop us," Azazel says. "Choose wisely."
Everything about that statement is sickening and terrifying; she lets herself change back into her natural form. She can just see the wall clock, checks the time. "Erik's going to be back any minute, and he's going to kill you when he gets here."
"When Erik gets here," Azazel says, laughing.
"If he can defend his property, then he can have it back," Riptide says.
She thrashes wildly again, all at once, trying to startle them, but it doesn't work; this time Azazel whips his tail around, sending it towards her tip first, and Raven freezes. He stops it maybe a centimeter from her neck, and she doesn't dare move again, flicking her eyes down at it warily. "That's very smart of you," Azazel says, and he comes around to stand in front of her, his tail staying exactly where it is, unwavering.
She swallows, hoping that the motion itself won't bring her closer to it. Azazel unbuttons his pants, zipping them down, and it's a problem that the least disturbing thing about all of this is that his cock is the same bright red as the rest of his body. He's already hard, and Raven wants very badly not to look, but she's petrified, maybe too much to even close her eyes.
"If you bite me," Azazel says, and he pushes the tip of his tail ever so slightly into her skin, just enough to draw a drop of blood, "I don't have to tell you what I'll do." With that, he grabs her, pulling her onto his cock. She tries to shout, but there's nothing to be done. He doesn't waste time, moving her head back and forth, pushing in hard enough that her eyes start to water.
Riptide spits onto his fingers, and she knows what's coming; but then he surprises her, touching them to her clit instead, rubbing a little less than gently but not too hard. This is maybe worse, making her body respond instead of taking her purely by force- that way would be so painful, but this way is so shameful. He slips two of his fingers inside her, fucking her with them, and she wishes it hurt more, she wishes it hurt so much more, just so that no one could blame her, accuse her of wanting this.
But then he's pushing inside of her, and they've got her filled up. The thought is still distant, insulated, wrapped in too much disbelief, but that's rapidly shattering, breaking down every time they push and pull her back and forth, taking her, violating her.
"I bet it's not like this when Lehnsherr fucks you," Azazel says, and a chill goes up her spine. He pulls on her hair, forcing her to look up at him; she thinks about what kind of picture she must make right then, her eyes wide, his cock still in her mouth, and she's so glad that she can't blush, can't give him the satisfaction of knowing how incredibly embarrassed she is. "He doesn't even fuck you, does he? Everyone knows how much you want him. He just lets you pant after him like a bitch in heat, makes you walk around naked for him." He shoves in harder, hard enough that she starts to choke. "Such a whore for him, and he hasn't even taken you to bed." He laughs. "And he's not going to after this, not after we're through with you."
He finally pulls away, and she sucks in a breath, as much air as she can, enough that she feels dizzy; Azazel laughs at her some more, and she tries very hard not to flinch as he trails the tip of his tail down her cheek, scratching her lightly. "Switch with me," he says to Riptide. "I want to try the other end."
They change places, and she's not any better off than she was a moment ago. Maybe she's a little worse; Azazel's fucking her harder than Riptide was, his claw-like fingers digging into her hips. When Riptide shoves his cock into her mouth, he tastes like her; it might be intimate, appealing somewhere else, but here it's vulgar, humiliating. "Suck me," he says, and she shakes her head; he can do what he likes, but he can't force her to help.
He pulls her off his cock, his hand gripping her hair so tightly that tears spring to her eyes. He backhands her, but she manages to take it, shaking her head again. He does it again and again, until it's really hurting, until she thinks her lip might be bleeding.
"Stop," she says weakly. "I'll- just stop."
He pushes his cock into her mouth again, his hand on the back of her head. "Make it good."
She shuts her eyes, trying to think about anything else. Maybe if she just does it well enough, does it fast enough, maybe she can end this as soon as possible. Maybe it'll take her attention away from Azazel's hard thrusts, the way his fingers dig into her skin.
"Jesus Christ," Riptide mutters. "This bitch was made to suck cock."
"Worth waiting for, wasn't it?" Azazel says. He suddenly takes his hand away from her hip; she struggles, fighting to keep him out when he presses his thumb into her ass. "Good," he says. "She knows what's coming." She didn't even think about it, didn't consider that this could get worse, but if they try that, then Azazel's just going to have to kill her, because she won't stop fighting.
She's trying so hard to keep it together, to not fall absolutely to pieces, but it's not working. Riptide is fucking her mouth slowly as she sucks, his hand fisted in her hair, like he's got no interest in coming any time soon. He pushes in deep, and when her eyes tear up from it, she just stops trying not to cry.
They keep fucking her and fucking her, using her, and it's only an eternity later that the door to the study opens.
"Magneto," Azazel says, abruptly pulling out of her. "We didn't expect you back so soon." She's been wanting and dreading this moment so much, so much more than she could express; her stomach churns at the thought of Erik seeing her like this, what they've reduced her to, but thank god he can stop it, end this nightmare.
"What is going on in here?" Erik says. His voice is disinterested, steely, the way that he's been trying to cultivate since they formed the Brotherhood, but there's no way anyone could miss the rage boiling behind it.
Except Riptide, apparently. "What does it look like?" he sneers. It's an error in judgment, because suddenly he's pinned to the wall, a pair of daggers through his shoulders.
"Erik," Raven says hoarsely, "Erik, help me."
"Just a little fun," Azazel says lightly.
"This is your idea of fun?" Fingers- Erik's, no talons- brush against her palm, and she grasps at them for reassurance.
"It is quite diverting," he responds, and she can hear his Cheshire Cat grin.
"You can do what you like, but this one's mine," he says coldly. "You leave it alone." Azazel snorts. "What, do you want me to prove it to you? We can do that right now, if that's what it takes to keep you idiots in line. I'm not the least bit concerned."
This can't be what it sounds like it is; he can't be offering what it sounds like he is. "Erik," she whines.
"Shut up," he snaps, but he's rubbing her back, almost like he's trying to soothe her.
"Go on, then," Azazel says. "Prove it."
When she hears the sound of his zipper, Raven puts her face down against the desk, sobbing; all her hopes are dashed, and if she had a choice right now, she'd rather die than let this go on. Erik's doing something behind her, getting himself ready, and he bends down over her.
"I have to do this, Raven," Erik says urgently into her ear. "I have to do this or they won't stop, Raven. Just get through it. Emma can fix it later. You'll never have to know."
"Please, Erik," she begs. "Please just let me go."
"I want you, Raven," he tells her, "but not like this, never like this."
"Erik, don't," she pleads, but he doesn't listen, just spreads her legs wider and pushes into her. His cock is thicker than anything she's ever taken, and it just doesn't stop; he's finally all the way inside of her, and she's never been more full. She gasps for breath, but it only gets harder when he starts moving, thrusting into her.
It's different now that it's Erik; it's not supposed to be, she knows that, but at least there's a small measure of comfort in the fact that he's not trying to hurt her- or at least, he says he's not. She's not sure how the fuck this is a good plan, but it's hard to think about that, it's hard to think about anything other than Erik's huge cock inside of her. This is the wrong goddamned time to find out that she likes it, the way it's spreading her open, lighting her up inside, touching her everywhere.
The pleasure is outstripped by how much she hates herself for it, but it's starting to get away from her, starting to get harder to fight back, starting to get harder to remember that anyone's even watching, that this isn't between the two of them, isn't just a power struggle played out using her body.
"Raven," Erik says gently, softly enough that she knows it's just for her to hear. "Raven, it's okay. Just trust me."
He moves faster, pressing in just the right way, and she comes around him, arching off the desk and shaking, her fingers clutching at nothing. "You see that?" Erik growls, and everything crashes back down in again, the oppressive shame of it all, only made worse by what she's just done, what she's given up, what she's admitted. "My whore only wants it from me. The two of you put together aren't as good as I am. You might as well go back to sucking each other's cocks."
Riptide starts to say something, but then he screams; Raven doesn't need to see to know that Erik's just twisted the knives in his shoulders. Erik starts fucking her harder then, shoving her up against the desk, pounding in, and now it's enough to hurt. She can feel it when he starts to come, throbbing inside of her; he pulls out before he's done, just so that the last pulses can splash across her back, so that she's marked inside and out.
She can hear him zipping up, and then his hand is heavy on her back, his fingers clutching at her skin. "Now get the hell out of my office," he snaps; she hears the daggers drop to the floor, quickly retreating footsteps.
Erik's hands are gentle as he snaps the handcuffs open, and she flexes her fingers, trying to get the circulation back. He carefully rolls her over onto her back, and the light overhead is painful even through her eyelids. "Raven," Erik says, his hand stroking down the side of her face, but she keeps her eyes shut; she won't look at him, can't look at him.
He picks her up gently, cradling her in his arms; she feels slick and swollen and sore everywhere, and it hurts when he starts walking, the way her body moves when he takes a step. He's walking through the house, and she clings to him, hoping that no one sees, not that there are many of them left who don't know.
His footfalls get softer and there's the scent of jasmine; they must be in Emma's room. Erik lays her out on the couch, his hand resting gently on her shoulder.
Someone- Emma, it must be Emma- approaches, standing over her, and she sighs. "This is why we can't have nice things," she says, but nothing about it is mocking or callous; she just sounds resigned and sad.
And then everything fades away.
--
She and Erik-
You don't date, in their line of work. You are or you aren't, and one day they just were. Raven doesn't remember even having a conversation about it; she just remembers their first time, how gentle he was with her, how unlike himself he was, how he just held her forever and ever, until sunlight was streaming in through the windows.
It got old really fast, but it was nice anyway.
One thing she really should have seen coming- not that she saw any of this coming- is how incredibly possessive Erik is. In another situation, it would probably drive her crazy, maybe even be a dealbreaker, but that's not how their life works; except people they're actively trying to kill, their social circle consists of Emma, Angel, Azazel, and Riptide. She's straight, so the first two are out, and of the remainder, she's pretty sure that Riptide's an idiot and even more sure that Azazel might actually be the Devil- the Devil from mythology.
Sometimes she catches one of them looking at her, sidelong; it's annoying and crass, but not exactly unexpected. They're learning very quickly not to do it when Erik is around; he won't hesitate to bawl them out, pulling her to him and glaring at them murderously. She sees them exchange confused glances, like they're wondering what the fuck they did wrong to make Erik so determined to put the fear of God into them.
He's always harder on her later, when they're in bed. He pushes her knees up to her chest, fucks her so hard she gets sore- the good kind of sore, the kind where she remembers everything the next day whenever she moves just so.
"Tell me," he always says, low and desperate.
"Yours, Erik," she pants. "Always yours, just yours." It's never the reverse, never "mine," as if he wants her to give but he doesn't want to claim. It doesn't matter to her, not as much as the relief on his face when she says it, the way he groans, clutching her tighter, rocking into her harder.
"You don't have to be anybody else's," he tells her afterwards, holding her, and he looks so sad, so lost; sometimes there are tears, and she can't bear to look. "You don't even have to be mine."
"Of course I want to be yours," she tells him, stroking his hair. "I always have." He doesn't answer, just leans down and kisses her, and she settles in beside him, sleepy and lax.
Just once, as she was drifting off, she thought she heard him say, "You shouldn't."
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