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You sighed, you huffed, you made any possible sound that would be able to relieve your stress, but nothing helped. Any attempt to feel better was in vain, so for a week or so you ignored the throbbing pain in your head and the high-pitched ringing that echoed in your ears. You didn't want to talk to anyone but you still couldn't ignore the voices of those around you, so you forced yourself to answer. Maybe it was work, your relationship, your friendships, you had no idea but something was eating away at your head like a brain-eating parasyte. Stress is a natural feeling of not being able to cope with specific demands and events, however, in your case, stress had become a chronic and routine condition that dragged you down.
It's not like your drastic change of mood went unnoticed, but most people preferred to ignore it rather than ask you what was happening. This was not the case with Chris, who with each dry response hinted more what might be going through your head.
You lifted your computer screen to find hundreds of words that you didn't care to understand, but still had to read. You weren't willing to continue working, your head hurt from the lack of sleep, but the lacerating brightness of the screen dried out your eyes and made you hold your head up. It wasn't really late, but the very frustration you felt had begun to bring you insomnia, which made your sleeping hours shorter and you felt tired all day. Every night you lay down on the bed and closed your eyes trying to be lulled into a deep sleep, but your mind kept burning with prodigious overwhelming thoughts that not even mortal exhaustion could calm down.
You didn't pay much attention to Chris coming from the kitchen, who was now approaching you with a plate in his hand. He extended his arm and shoved a poorly assembled sandwich in your face, inviting you to eat, even with its lack of visual appeal what mattered was the intention.
“I made you this.” he blurrted.
“I’m not hungry.” you replied, looking out of the corner of your eye, still not completely looking up from the screen in front of you.
“But you need to eat.” and he wasn't wrong, no matter how much work you had or how much stress you were feeling you couldn't deprive yourself of food. He put the plate directly in front of your eyes but you pushed it away with one hand.
“I said I’m not hungry.” you said, serious.
“What the hell is your problem? You’ve been acting like this the whole week.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You don't even answer when someone asks you something, and if you do you answer like a bitch. You complain about everything but you don't let anyone help you, you're tired all day and you don't approach anyone, not even me, do I keep going?
“Do you think I fucking like acting like this? Do you think I fucking choose it?”
“Stop being so defensive, I just want to help you.”
“How do you expect me to not be defensive when you act like a dick? I don't want your fucking help, I want you to leave me alone. It's always about you, always about how bad you feel and how bad everyone makes you feel. I don’t need your help, you cannot help everyone.” you snapped at him, face completely red and jaw clenched due to how angry you were.
Chris just looked at you dead in your eyes. Normally you could decipher what he wanted to tell you just by looking at his expressions, but this time you couldn't read his face. You couldn't even guess his reaction through such empty eyes. He stepped back and dropped the plate next to you, ready to turn around and leave. “Talk to me when you get your shit together.”
"Is that it? Is that all you are going to say?” you said standing up from the chair, leaving your work on the computer or the plate behind. “You are unbelievable, truly unbelievable. You're going to leave now, right? Are you going to ignore everything I told you?” you continued to complain as you followed him. He wasn’t facing you, heading towards the stairs to go up to his room. He still didn't answer, he just let your complaints hang around in the air and didn't get a response.
Probably it was the fact that he wasn't answering you that made you angry. The same way you ignored everyone he did it with you, and it made your blood boil. Loneliness had turned into stress, and stress now turned into anger that made you snap in front of someone who actually cared about you. It was frustration working as a barrier that didn't let you see that Chris was really doing you a favor by leaving you alone. You grabbed Chris's shoulder and in one quick movement you turned him around so he was now looking at your face. Without thinking twice, you raised your hand and let a hard slap land across his cheek. You had never laid your fingers on him or vice versa, but this time it was not like you were aware of your decisions. You also didn't see violence as a viable means of expressing your emotions, hitting mattresses had gotten old, so you genuinely couldn't find a logical explanation for why you just hit him.
Chris stared at the floor as he covered with his hand where you had hit him, and he slowly made his way up and straightened himself up. Before you could see it coming, two hands larger than yours went directly to your neck and squeezed with a threatening force that knocked out the air you had left. Chris pushed you and made your back hit the wall, when you had time to look at his face you paid attention to the burning red mark on his cheek that you were responsible of. His jaw clenched tightly and his pupils were dilated with anger, assimilating the face you had a few minutes ago. You touched a button on Chris, not even a torch above your head could illuminate the narrow depths you had crawled yourself into. You were scared, but something inside you thought that being on the verge of fainting was what you needed to feel better again.
“Who do you think you are?” he said through clenched teeth, noticing that you couldn't respond properly he eased the prominent grip on your neck. You thought about apologizing but no words came out of your mouth and you just looked at Chris on tiptoes to be as close to his height as possible. “Fucking answer.” he yelled in your face, still holding your neck and shaking your head like you were a rag doll. You felt yourself fighting to stay conscious, you were slightly turning purple. The little air you had left in your lungs was leaving as the seconds passed and everything around you felt heavy. Before you lost consciousness, Chris released your throat to put all his strength on your hips, squeezing them in such a way that they left a violet mark on your skin. Taking you by your handles, he guided you to the couch to push you violently, hitting your back again with the backrest. You kept your eyes closed trying to catch the air that had escaped, but when you looked down you had Chris kneeling between your legs, threatening to pull down your pants.
“I’m so sorry-” you tried to apologize with a whimper, but Chris interrupted you.
“You're gonna have to beg me to stop.” he growled. He began to pull down your shorts along with your underwear, your own body betraying you by letting him do so. In a quick yank you were naked in front of him, and he didn't waste any more time diving between your legs.
The sudden sensation of his hot, wet tongue licking up and down your slit made you arch your back at a perfect angle. Chris placed your legs on his shoulders, your thighs squeezing his head every time he stimulated your aching clit with his tongue. The paradisiacal view you had was too pleasant to be believable, he looked like a depraved man, eager to taste you and take everything from you. He ate you out with such a dazed and determined gaze, as if his only job in the world was to devour you, as if he was the one feeling the pleasure. He would only lift his mouth from your pussy to spit into it, making the job increasingly sloppy.
You let out a loud moan as you felt his tongue enter fully inside you. He twisted it, coating your already wet walls in his saliva and exploring every part of your hole. His nose rubbed your clit, rubbing against it every time he moved his jaw and the friction was enough to tire you out. With one hand you tugged at Chris's brown curls, trying to push him away from you to give you a break from the stimulation, but your treacherous legs kept closing on his head. It's not like he minded having his skull crushed by your thighs, but even if he tried you didn't give him a chance to get his head off your wet cunt.
“Stop, stop, stop-” you threw your head back, put your hand on his forehead and pushed, intending to get him to get away from it, but it was in vain. “I can't, I can't-”
Chris managed to get out of your hold as he pulled your legs towards your body, pressing your knees into your chest. He blocked part of your view, but you could still feel him rub his boner against your core. Through his gray pajama pants you could see the print of his dick already 100% erect, he felt like he was going to explode if he didn't free his meat from the confines of his boxers. With one messy hand he pulled down his clothes and freed his cock, it sprung out and slapped against his stomach, it was already throbbing and the tip an angry red matching his face. He rubbed it against your slit, covering it in the mixture of your juices and his saliva.
“We don’t even need lube.” he growled, tugging at your hair, making you look down. “Looks like you like when I force you to do things.” as wild as that statement sounded, you couldn't deny that he was right.
Chris gave himself a couple of lazy strokes until he lined his cock with your entrance and let just the tip enter, which was enough to drive both of you crazy. You covered your mouth with your palm to avoid letting out unnecessary sounds, but Chris forcefully took it off and put it behind your back. Without warning he filled you up with his entire length in one thrust, making you let out a loud moan that could be misinterpreted as a scream. You squirmed and moved around the couch, but Chris held you in place with a bruising grip on your waist.
He didn't give you time to adjust to the size because he was already moving. It wasn't a torturous pace, but your body felt so weak that the slightest touch was enough to feel overwhelming. Your pussy had already molded to his shape, your walls had already adjusted to each prominent vein that ran through his meat, but even with that you would appreciate a little preparation. That time was not given to you as you could feel his dick stabbing your insides in a matter of seconds, the strong sensation making your legs tremble.
“Try and slap me now,” he groaned, looking directly at you with his piercing blue eyes. “Come on, do it.” gathering a little energy you raised your hand to hit him with very little, almost zero force. He responded by slapping you three times harder, a smack that made your entire face turn to the side, leaving a burning, stinging pain on your cheek. No matter how much you tried to deny it, you liked him correcting you that way.
With both of his hands he wrapped your throat easily, your small neck fit perfectly between them, and he pressed at the perfect spot that made it difficult for air to pass through. The increasing intensity of his thrusts coupled with the threatening pressure on your neck only resulted in you being a mess of moans and whimpers, trembling legs and pleas for breath. Only in the ghostly visions of drugs and delirium can a person assimilate a sensation like the one that passed through your body.
His pace wasn't particularly fast, but with each thrust Chris made sure to go deep, to hit that button inside you that would fix your attitude. With each movement he reached deeper and deeper inside you, his cock destroying everything in its path regardless of your begs. “You wanna act like a bitch? Then you’ll get fucked like one.”
“I'm gonna cum, please-” you mumbled in a puddle, begging for something even thought you didn't know what.
“Please what?”
“I- please, don't stop…” you whined in response, voice high-pitched and close to breaking.
“I never knew you liked getting fucked like a slut this much.” he chuckled, and it felt humiliatingly hot.
Even with the intensity of his thrusts, Chris increased his speed, bringing you over the edge in a matter of seconds. As if it were possible he tightened his grip on your neck even more, and you grabbed his bicep with all the strength you had left, clawing at his skin.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, preventing him from pulling out, the same way you wrapped your thighs around his head while he ate you out before. He let go of your neck, not even seconds passed that you were cumming, letting out a loud scream of Chris's name. Any neighbor listening would believe you were being murdered by him.
“I know baby, I know,” Chris whispered, his voice shifting to a more soothing tone as your orgasm spread throughout your body, hitting you like a wave. “Just let it all out.”
You shook like jelly as you allowed Chris to use you for a few more seconds until he orgasmed. With one last thrust you felt him cum inside of you and he ended up hiding his head in your neck to catch his breath. You felt the hot liquid drip from your hole onto the couch, possibly leaving a stain that you would have to take care of. Either way, cleaning was the last thing on your mind at the moment.
A calming silence saturated the air that a few seconds ago was filled with moans and grunts. Chris lifted his head to look you in the eyes.
“How are you feeling now?”
“Tired.”
“Not like that, do you feel any better?”
“Yes, thank you, Chris.” you responded, you weren't angry anymore and you were so tired you felt like you could sleep for an eternity. When you looked at Chris this time you could decipher what his expression was telling you; he looked at you with affectionate eyes, and a silly smile that indicated “you’re welcome”. In a way, he had done you a favor.