Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine…

A/N: Just can't get a completely dominant Olivia out of my head (who really wants to?), but I think if she ever completely lost control and let her emotions rule it would scare her and make her assume she's exactly like her "father".

Alex's POV

I really wish I could remember what I said to make you act this way. If I could remember…I'd say it every time we argued!

I feel consumed by you. Your hands and mouth are demanding my compliance. As if you would need to, but that is most definitely beside the point right now.

You always have your emotions in such control, to see you like this is a little overwhelming…but a complete turn on.

I can normally see the wall that you have built around yourself. Even when it's just you and me and you seem to be at complete ease, the wall may be down, but I can see that one false move will have it right back in place.

But now…Now…I can see every single emotion. It started out as anger, then control. And the way you are devouring me now…Oh, how I wish I could see your eyes! I wish I could see nothing but the passion I know would be there.

But I am not in the position to make requests. Nothing has been said since you started this frenzied fucking, because you are most defiantly not making love to me right now, but I somehow know that anything I ask for will only be used against me in prolonging my release.

I want to touch you. I need to touch you. But you pushed my hands away every time I tried.

As good as this feels for me, I know right now is all about you. And I'm okay with that. As long as you don't stop!

My skin feels like it's on fire. You're touch is burning itself onto me. Although it was you to start the flames, I know it's only you that can put them out as well.

Olivia's POV

I can barely find the energy to roll off of you, but I know I must be crushing you. You're breathing is still forced.

As I catch my breath, I turn to look at you, and I can't breathe again.

Your shirt's torn from where I had no patience to bother with the buttons. Your skirt is hiked up to your hips, underwear still hanging from one ankle.

I'm already starting to feel nauseous at the thought of doing that to you. But then I see all the abrasions on you. There are scratches on your torso from my insistent nails, numerous bite marks along your collarbone and neck.

And as I see the redness on your wrists, I know I can't hold back the urge to vomit. I run to the bathroom, barely making it in time.

I put those marks on you by making you do what I wanted you to. All you wanted to do was to touch me, and I hurt you.

I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't control myself. I wanted to feel you. I needed to feel not what you could do to me, but what I could do to you.

Not that though. Never that.

I never wanted to hurt you. I only wanted to please you. I wanted you to be completely focused on every spot I was touching, and to feel the loss of it when it was somewhere else.

The argument itself is slowly coming back. We've had it time and time again, but the longer we're together the harder it is for me. I just needed you to need me, but you never need anyone. I wanted to show you that you in fact do need me.

I don't even remember how what just happened started though. I'm sure I was the one to initiate that little fuck-fest I just had in there, but with how angry you were, you would have stopped me. You like to get all of the yelling through before we move on to make-up sex.

Oh my god! What if you did try to stop me? I just…I can't fucking remember.

What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?

I finally stop heaving and sit back against the wall. I can't stop the tears that are rolling down my face.

How could I have treated anyone like that?

How could I have just treated you like that? You, the woman I love?

I've thought it all along, but now I know; I'm exactly like him. I am a cruel, spiteful person.

I can hear you moving now. I hope you're not hurting too bad. I really wish you would come in here and beat the shit out of me for what I did to you.

I would let you if you did. I wouldn't raise a finger to stop you because I deserve it.

You're standing in the doorway now, but I can't look at you. I can't look at you because I'm a coward too. I'm too scared to look up and see the same look I've seen in numerous women's faces and know that I was the one to put it there.

"I'm sorry," is all I can say knowing it can never be enough.