Uh, alright, I know it's been nearly three years. Please don't hurt me.

Rated for some serious angst, swearing and blood play.

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Chapter 18: The Talk (Part 2)

I try to keep my tone even. After all, it's going so well, I don't want to risk fucking everything up again by reverting back to my sarky, snarky self.

"Okay, Bonnie. What is it that I'm apologising for?" There, nice and calm, no shouting. I didn't even do that condescending eyebrow-quirk thing I'm famous for.

The look that she shoots me is somewhere caught between exasperation and disbelief. "You're joking, right, Marceline?"

My temper spikes and I clear my throat before speaking to avoid my next words coming out as an angry growl. "Well, it wasn't me doing the dumping and playing bitchy control games. I don't think I've done anything that warrants an apology." The sexually charged atmosphere seems to have robbed me of all my tact. I scowl as Bonnie snorts in derision.

"You dedicated that stupid song to me in front of half the school!"

"My songs aren't stupid!"

"Totally missing the point, Marceline."

I push away from my spot on the bed and begin to pace the room. Bonnie's gaze follows me as I tread quickly, my bare feet sinking into the plush blue bedroom carpet.

I decide to opt for a slightly different tack, still refusing to apologise. "That 'stupid' song was the result of a lot of booze and probably more coke than I should have taken pre-game," I admit, only to be met with an abruptly shocked face, followed by Bonnie standing from her seated position on the duvet. She strides forward, meeting me in the middle of the room, halfway through my pacing lap. Ah, shit. Shouldn't have mentioned the coke.

"So now you're taking cocaine at parties?" she gesticulates so violently that I flinch away to avoid her flailing arms. "What the hell is wrong with you? What are you trying to do to yourself? Think of your body, think of your health! Don't you know what cocaine does to your brain chemicals? Think of-"

"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANYTHING, ANYMORE, BONNIBEL."

I'm breathing heavily, fists balled, vaguely aware that there are tears flowing down my distinctly gaunt cheeks. Bonnie is staring at me wordlessly, her eyes wide, lips slightly parted in shock. I can feel the blood roaring in my ears; her ceaseless accusations obviously caused something to snap inside me. A well of emotions has broken inside me and I can feel panic, fury and hopelessness threatening to overwhelm my ability to breathe.

"I don't. Fucking. Care. Okay? I don't care if I catch an STI from fucking half the school. I don't care if I embarrass myself by singing songs about how much you fucked me over. I don't care if everyone finds out about us and our sordid little excuse for a fling. I don't care if I become a junkie. I don't care if I fucking DIE today or tomorrow or the next day! I don't-"

Next, her lips are on mine, her hands are buried in the vast expanse of my cigarette-tinged hair tied in a pitifully loose bun and my tirade is quelled by shock. I can feel her trembling against me, can see the tears on her lashes, as her eyes are shut but mine are wide open. Her mouth moves and she kisses my lips open once, twice, and on the third time her tongue brushes against mine. The sensation is so raw that my eyelids flutter closed, and I'm suddenly aware of the smell of her again, just as I had been when she hugged me a few moments ago on the bed. I can taste the sugar free gum she must have swallowed a second before she kissed me. And oh, God, her hands. One is still tangled in the hair at the base of my neck, most likely lost for good in the depths of my inky black tresses, but the other is stroking my back in long, sweeping motions that are so comforting in their familiarity that I feel a moan building in the pit of my stomach.

Eventually we have to breathe, and the second our lips part, we gasp, chests burning from the lack of oxygen.

"Please," Bonnie whispers against my mouth, she's walking backwards, pulling me with her. We fall in a tangled heap on top of my bedcovers, her pale pink dress has ridden up and I can feel her bare legs against mine, one of her ankle sock-clad feet rubbing the back of my calve as I brace myself above her.

'Please,' what? I wonder. 'Please stop talking?' 'Please care?' 'Please let me keep kissing you?' I realise it doesn't really matter what it is she's begging me for. I have never been able to deny this girl anything.

As I trail kisses down her throat her hands work their way under the baggy band t-shirt I had so hastily thrown on, carefully tracing the dip in my spine, the hollows underneath my ribs, the pronunciation of my ribcage. I've barely eaten anything all week. Every time I tried I just puked it back up again. Her fingers lingering on my obvious flaws makes me feel suddenly angry and I bite down on her neck - hard.

Bonnie cries out, not entirely from pain, and I bare my teeth and bite her again - on the shoulder this time - hard enough to draw blood, grinding my pelvis into hers roughly. "Marceline!" she gasps, her eyes clenched shut tightly, her nails digging into my back.

I draw back from her briefly, blood smeared on the side of my mouth. She opens her eyes to see why I've stopped and makes a small noise in the back of her throat when she notices the smudge of red.

"Oh," she breathes, and removes a hand from under my shirt to wipe away the blood from my lip. I catch her thumb in my mouth instead and suck on it languidly, watching as her eyes roll back at the sensation. Without warning I grasp her wrist in my hand and pin it above her head, holding her more tightly than is probably needed to keep her restrained, since she isn't trying to resist me.

"Don't say my name," I say softly. I don't want to remember who I am during this. I want to drown in Bonnie and only Bonnie.

"Okay, I promise," she's arching into me from below, trying to reach my lips to drag me back down for a kiss.

I comply, but only because I want to be able to feel all of her, laying flush against her, my tongue in her mouth, my thigh pressed tightly between her legs. I kiss my way to the spot behind her left ear, the bit that makes her purr when administered to with lips and tongue, breathing on the sensitive patch and revelling in the shiver I earn. I hover over the spot until she's whimpering for me to do something, her hips grinding in frustration.

"I want to take your dress off," I murmur against her skin, groaning as she digs her nails into the curve of my ass.

She tries to sit up, so I straddle her to allow her room for movement. Her dress has already ridden up around her waist, so after sliding the soft, purple cardigan from her bruised and bleeding shoulder, I lift the dress easily, slipping it over her up stretched arms. She isn't wearing a bra.

This is the first time we've had sex in just over a week but Christ, it feels like it's been months. Years even. I drink in the sight of Bonnie's tanned, freckled skin. Her nipples are erect, more so to do with arousal than the ambient temperature because, fuck me, it must be a million degrees in my bedroom right now. A glow of rosy pink suddenly begins to spread from her neck, down across her chest and my gaze is drawn back to her face, which is now a brilliant shade of scarlet.

"You're staring, Marce-" she catches herself as I wince. "You're staring."

"You're too beautiful," I say as an explanation. It's the first time I've called her that to her face.

Her features soften into something that makes my insides tremble with heat. "Kiss me," she says.

My lips are on hers in an instant, firm and insistent, hot and fast until she breaks away roughly to pull my shirt over my head. The neck gets caught on my ear, briefly, and I yelp in pain as she tugs it mercilessly free. I scowl at her as she lobs it across my room with abandon, but find myself moaning a second later when she sucks my earlobe into her warm, wet mouth in lieu of an apology. In my dazed state as she administers attention to my ear, I notice mutely that her shoulder is still bleeding where I bit her, a single teardrop of blood dripping down towards her armpit.

I pull away to follow the line of scarlet with my tongue. My mouth fills with the taste of salt and iron. She realises what I've done and raises my face to kiss her again, the taste of that sweet gum mixes with the bitterness of her blood and I groan into her mouth.

"I want you inside of me," she gasps as we break apart for breath. My head swims, I kiss down her neck, to her breasts, using the space between us to lift her hips, working her purple cotton underwear down just enough to give me room to get my hand between her legs. I groan so loudly when I feel the slickness of her arousal on my fingertips that she ends up moaning alongside me.

My tongue is in her naval when my fingers press inside her the first time. I stay still for a long moment, feeling her inner walls clench and relax, clench and relax. She pulls me up to kiss her by my hair, the painful tug making me grunt. The rhythm of my hand between us is slow, the kiss is languid, and for the first time since I've started having sex with girls I wish I was a man, wish I could be inside her as Finn had been, be one with her in that way. As I curl my fingers inside her she bites my lip hard. Oh, maybe this is okay, too, though.

It doesn't take long for her to start to reach her peak, I can feel her thighs trembling against my wrist, feel her breaths start to take on a desperate, shuddering quality. I speed up the movement of my hand, not wishing to drag this moment out - we have the whole night, after all.

As her body starts to convulse and the noises she's making grow louder and higher in pitch, Bonnie opens her eyes, gaze trained on my face. My thumb finds her clit as my fingers curl for the last time and Bonnie falls apart in my arms, sweat beading on her chest and forehead, her hair splayed messily on my sheets, coming loose from her bun.

I keep my fingers inside her as I kiss her lips, her chin, cheeks, nose, eyelids. Breathing in the scent of her, giving myself over to her completely.