Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Language:
English
Collections:
Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
Stats:
Published:
2020-11-04
Words:
770
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
14
Hits:
2,424

Facets

Summary:

author's note: written for my skripka, for her birthday. happy birthday, baby. i love you. you make my life better just by being in it.
Characters created in a story for NCIS
Submitted through the NavyNCISslash2 mailing list.

Work Text:

facets
by rebecca

He's a bundle of contradictions. He's quiet, reserved around people he doesn't know. Even among his friends, he tends to be quiet unless he's got something to say. Those who don't know him well would call him mild-mannered, and those who don't know him at all might think he's a milquetoast.

It generally takes about two minutes of talking to him to realize that's completely not the case. Quiet, sure. A doormat, Stephen isn't.

But even his friends don't always see the other sides of him. They think he's a little uptight, definitely a type-A personality, a caffeine addict, maybe a workaholic. Ask Amy or Paul about his temper and they'll probably look at you blankly.

I know better. I live with him.

The last time Stephen lost his temper, we lost two mugs, a clock, and a particularly ugly picture frame Stephen had won at a company party. When I tried to hold him back, I nearly ended up with a black eye. More of an accidental elbow than anything else; Stephen takes out his anger on inanimate objects, not people. That doesn't make it any less scary to witness.

Dealing with Stephen when he's that upset is...difficult, to say the least. Most of the time I end up staying out of his way until he's done throwing things and I can try and talk to him again. And if I'm lucky, it'll be done with. He blows up, we lose a mug or a glass, and it's over.

What I have to watch for are the times he doesn't blow up. The times he pulls in, when he doesn't like me to touch him, when he doesn't tell me what's going on. That's when I know something is truly wrong, something deeper. It might just be stress, or it might be something he can't find an outlet for.

That's when I have to take him down hard, when I'll let him fight me and struggle and curse me until I've got him tied on the bed or against the wall and he's so deep in headspace he doesn't even know his own name. He hates me for doing it to him, and he loves me for giving him what he can't admit he needs.

What happens when I've got him that far down--that's something I've never even come close to with anyone else. The way he falls apart for me, the way I can peel him open with each slice of the whip--he begs me and he pleads for it and he writhes against his restraints and God, it's all I can do to keep from shoving into him and taking him just like that.

But I wait, until he's broken, until there's nothing left of him but what he needs, what he feels. It's only then that I put the whip (or the cane or the switch or whatever) down and go to him and kiss him and drink in his tears and his pleas and make him come for me, whether it's with my cock in his body or his cock in my mouth or my hand. Sometimes I come, sometimes I don't--delayed gratification is sweet, and I'm not stupid or cruel enough to make Stephen focus on me when he's that far gone.

I tend his back, and I uncuff him, and I hold him. And slowly, as he comes back to himself one piece at a time, he talks to me. Sometimes he doesn't tell me what was wrong; sometimes he can't. Sometimes all it takes is one word and I understand.

It takes him hours to settle into himself again, and when he does, he's not who he was before this began. There's a lightness about him, an ease that wasn't there before. I see him smile a little as he shifts and the marks rub against his shirt. I recognize the faint hum of satisfaction when he sits, the welts on his ass rubbing against the couch. Sure, it hurts, but it's also a reminder. One he wants, and one I take pleasure in giving him.

No one else sees this side of him. Not even David truly saw what he needs. But I do, and that...that's enough for us.