ROMAN SIONIS | BLACK MASK (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maskurbates) wrote2010-05-30 10:47 pm
maskurbates) wrote2010-05-30 10:47 pm
Entry tags:
FIC
Title: Hairbrush
Rating: R
Characters: Roman/Circe
Words: 380
Note: Language, brief abuse. Takes place just before she dumps him.
"You spend more time staring at yourself in that mirror than in bed with me," Roman chastised, standing behind Circe and watching her brush her sleek, red hair. "That mirror ain't gonna give you a bigger rock than I did, baby."
Circe rolled her eyes, looking up at his reflection.
"The face of Janus needs to be flawless, Roman," she told him patronizingly.
He snatched the brush from her hand. Her face went from bored to annoyed.
"The face of Janus needs to be whatever I want it to be, and right now, I want it to be disheveled and in my bed," he smirked, holding the brush out of her reach.
"Give it back, Roman!" Circe screeched, jumping up from her chair.
"Is that the way we ask for things, Circe?"
She jumped again, giving an exasperated shriek.
"Now!"
"Wrong answer."
Roman yanked the brush beyond the reach of her hands and grabbed a clump of her hair in his free hand, twisting the strands between his fingers, causing it to knot. Circe squealed angrily, swatting his hand away.
"Roman! Give me the brush and I'll come to bed," she wheedled.
Roman threw the brush into the air and caught it.
"Come to bed and I'll give you the brush."
Circe pouted, her arms akimbo.
"Roman Sionis, I am not in the mood for your games. No brush, no bed."
His lip curled.
"That's funny. I was of the distinct impression that my mother was dead."
Circe's face turned crimson, and when she finally spoke, her voice was low and dangerous.
"Don't you dare compare me to that bitch."
Roman tossed the hairbrush from one hand to the other.
"Guess it's true what they say, that you end up marrying your mother. Shoulda known you'd be a money grubbing fire crotch cunt just like her, huh?"
Circe slapped his cheek, a welt in the shape of her hand rising immediately.
"Stop it right now, Roman," she threatened, her voice quavering with emotion. "I swear I'll leave you..."
Roman scowled at her and swatted her across the face with the hairbrush.
"No, you'll leave when I want you gone, Circe."
She backed away, a hand to her split lip. Roman threw the hairbrush to her feet.
"Now come to bed."
Rating: R
Characters: Roman/Circe
Words: 380
Note: Language, brief abuse. Takes place just before she dumps him.
"You spend more time staring at yourself in that mirror than in bed with me," Roman chastised, standing behind Circe and watching her brush her sleek, red hair. "That mirror ain't gonna give you a bigger rock than I did, baby."
Circe rolled her eyes, looking up at his reflection.
"The face of Janus needs to be flawless, Roman," she told him patronizingly.
He snatched the brush from her hand. Her face went from bored to annoyed.
"The face of Janus needs to be whatever I want it to be, and right now, I want it to be disheveled and in my bed," he smirked, holding the brush out of her reach.
"Give it back, Roman!" Circe screeched, jumping up from her chair.
"Is that the way we ask for things, Circe?"
She jumped again, giving an exasperated shriek.
"Now!"
"Wrong answer."
Roman yanked the brush beyond the reach of her hands and grabbed a clump of her hair in his free hand, twisting the strands between his fingers, causing it to knot. Circe squealed angrily, swatting his hand away.
"Roman! Give me the brush and I'll come to bed," she wheedled.
Roman threw the brush into the air and caught it.
"Come to bed and I'll give you the brush."
Circe pouted, her arms akimbo.
"Roman Sionis, I am not in the mood for your games. No brush, no bed."
His lip curled.
"That's funny. I was of the distinct impression that my mother was dead."
Circe's face turned crimson, and when she finally spoke, her voice was low and dangerous.
"Don't you dare compare me to that bitch."
Roman tossed the hairbrush from one hand to the other.
"Guess it's true what they say, that you end up marrying your mother. Shoulda known you'd be a money grubbing fire crotch cunt just like her, huh?"
Circe slapped his cheek, a welt in the shape of her hand rising immediately.
"Stop it right now, Roman," she threatened, her voice quavering with emotion. "I swear I'll leave you..."
Roman scowled at her and swatted her across the face with the hairbrush.
"No, you'll leave when I want you gone, Circe."
She backed away, a hand to her split lip. Roman threw the hairbrush to her feet.
"Now come to bed."
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I didn't say I didn't like it!!