Title: Surrender

Author: Phoenix

Disclaimer: I own none of the series or fandoms this may be used for; otherwise it is mine. I am poor.

Warnings: You may not like this fic. Too bad. It will have a sense of humor or as close as I can get to one. It may offend you. It may make you laugh. It may make you confused. You may read things into it. It is train of thought. If you can't deal, don't read.

Rating: Depends on how dirty your mind is

Fandom: up to you

Pairings: See the fandom explanation

Archive: WWOMB, CkoS, and GW Addiction if they want it, all others please ask.

Summary: Now that would spoil everything ;) just read the title. There's a battle going on...just not the kind you may be ready for.


SURRENDER
By Phoenix



Surrender he says. Give up. Give in. Let him have his way. It'll be so much easier if I do. So much more pleasant. I really don't want to know what he'll do if I keep fighting him like this. Just surrender. Let go. A seductive offer for sure. But just who does he think he is?!

Me? Give up? Surrender? Not in this lifetime. Not with what is at stake. Worse, give in to him? Don't make me laugh. I'm tougher than that. He can't just come in here and walk all over me. I'm not that easy.

But he doesn't play fair. He's bigger than me, stronger, faster. I really hate it sometimes. He uses all those things to his advantage, backs me into a corner where I can't get out except past him and he knows that won't happen. I can see the knowledge shining in his smile. Usually, a smile makes him so beautiful, yet this one is like a cat finally getting the bird it's been stalking forever. Bastard can't do this to me!

Of course he fights dirty as well. Promising pleasure. Threatening pain. Always providing immense detail of how he'd do it. How I'd beg. Plead. Writhe under his "tender" ministrations. My voice will go hoarse from it, he promises. In the end, he claims, I'll give him what he wants; it's just a matter of time. Why not take the easy way out? He actually has the nerve to ask me that.

I want to spit in his eye, but that'd only makes things a thousand times worse. Does he really believe I would ever go down without a fight? Not in my make up.

I tried sneering at him. Jerk found it highly amusing.

I tried telling him what I'd do in revenge if he so much as laid a single finger on me. His eyes caught fire. Who said I'd be able to move when he was done with me, he smirked. I admit I shuddered.

Seeing my sudden unsureness, he gets closer and closer. His body only inches from mine, he repeats his demand. I repeat my refusal.

He calls me a fool and raised his hands. I wanted to back away, but the walls kept me still. He has such a gentle touch usually; like a healer. But I've seen those hands kill, seen them break people with a single blow, and now they're moving toward me.

Repeating my command to stop doesn't do any good. The bastard can't stand not getting what he wants. Then his hands are on me and I can't think anymore. It all happens so fast. One minute I'm trying to fight him off and the next I'm helpless under him. Those long digits are everywhere and he was so right.

I do beg. In between gasps that is. It's so hard to concentrate. So hard to keep my thoughts focused as he forces my nervous system toward overload. Single syllable words are all I am capable of.

Still, I stubbornly hang on. I won't tell him what he wants to hear.


I don't care how much he tickles me, the bastard is not getting my last piece of chocolate cake!


So what did you think was going on?