Tooth and Nail

Characters: Ruin, Mary
Origin: House of Cards (WIP)
Advent Day: Day 18 (December 14th)
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1,959
Warning: Violence


Ruin slammed Mary against the wall outside the bar she'd asked him to meet her at. It forced her breath out of her in a rush, made stars twinkle in her vision for a moment. Fuck, it was cold. The snow crunched under her combat boots, and his knee between her legs, pushing the seam of her jeans against her, pulled a high-pitched sound of need from her throat. It wasn't fair. Ruin shouldn't be able to make her want so badly, to betray Rae by opening her mouth wide and taking Ruin's tongue into her.

Poor Rae. Tortured Rae. All because Ruin said Rae had spent too much time in Ruin's territory. Time for the long-dead, dethroned king to move on. But Mary didn't understand. How was tormenting Rae and his lover, Deimos, going to help Rae move on? Not even Rae could answer that for her, and Ruin... well, Ruin was too busy suffocating her with a kiss for Mary to get a word in edgewise.

Mary shoved him away with a cry and glared at him. He was flushed, beautiful, deadly, and, God, those eyes. Ruin's eyes always seemed to shimmer, move like molten silver in his face. It only reminded her of who and what he was. "You're an asshole," she panted.

Ruin smiled, all teeth and hunger. "You knew that before you started fucking me, Legs."

That name. She loved it as much as she hated it. "Leave Rae alone."

"We've gone over this," Ruin said, slowly closing the little space between them. His proximity made her so wet, her sex feeling thick and hot in her jeans. "It's just happening the way it has to. Rae has to face his sins, face his despair. Only when he is hopeless, at the bottom of the barrel staring up, can he begin to climb out." He braced his hands on the wall, trapping her, leaning in, and he smelled so good. Like gunpowder and lilies, an edge of salt and tears. "He has to have nothing before he realizes he has everything, Legs."

"So you take everything, and then what?" Mary growled, shifting between him and the wall. Shifting, but not struggling. Struggling would be a waste of time, and with the tingle of pleasure moving against him brought, it was yet another lose-lose situation. Ruin was awfully good at those.

"I leave. The rest is up to him," Ruin said, but there was a roughness around the edges of his voice.

The answer infuriated her, and she shifted again, pulling a low, deep sound from Ruin. "I can't accept that," she panted.

"That's the beauty of it." Ruin leaned down, brushing their lips against one another. "You don't have to."

Mary snarled. "Damn you."

"Too late for that, Legs."

And then he was kissing her, and she was letting him. Just like the other times, it was so easy to hate and need and want with Ruin. Mary forgot they were in a snowy alley that smelled of old alcohol and rotting garbage. Ruin's hands slipped the button of her jeans, slid the zipper down, and cold fingers moved against her. She cried out, head slamming back against the brick wall with a sharp crack. Her hands dove under his shirt, and she raked her nails down his back. Mark him. Mark that fucking tattoo of ten swords in his flesh. Mark him just as he'd marked her fucking soul.

Ruin's mouth and teeth moved over her throat as he groaned against her. His fingers knew her, knew what she liked. They rubbed hard and fast against her, making her knees weak. Mary clung to him. She hated him a little for that. She didn't need him. If she needed Ruin, then it would be such a betrayal to Rae. If Rae knew... if he knew she was fucking his tormentor...

But when Ruin's fingers pushed inside her, all thought of Rae and right and wrong were blown from her mind. She shouted, dug her nails into Ruin's back, and all but rode his fingers.

"Going to make you bleed, Legs," Ruin panted near her ear. "Going to make it hurt as much as make it feel so fucking good."

Mary came. She came biting into the fabric covering Ruin's shoulder. It was hard and good and like fire burning through her. It only made her want him more, the cold and alley be damned. She kissed him. Kissed him hard enough to taste blood. Whether it was his or hers, she didn't know, didn't care. "Have room upstairs, over the bar."

"You inviting me up?" he asked, a dark, sharp smile on his lips.

"I'm saying get the fuck up there before I rip you to shreds... or change my mind." But she wouldn't change her mind, and Ruin's smirk told her he knew as much. She dug her nails viciously into his skin, trying to wipe that expression from his face. "Upstairs. Now."

Ruin's groan morphed into a ragged laugh. "Eager to get me naked. I like that."

Mary was about to scratch him to ribbons, but he pulled away so completely, so suddenly that she nearly staggered forward. Which allowed him to catch her, damn him. She straightened and glared at him. "I'm not some fucking damsel in distress."

She cut off any argument he might have had with a sharp pull to his scraggly, shoulder-length hair that brought him down into another kiss. By the time she pulled away, Ruin had either forgotten to protest or didn't think it worth the effort. That was fine by her. She pulled him into the warm bar, and they passed the alcohol-dazed patrons of the dive, making for the stairwell and her room.

It was cramped. It smelled. But it was cheap. It was close to Rae and Deimos. Though it did amuse Mary darkly that Deimos—a god of death and time—stood powerless against a tarot card. A tarot card. She still didn't fully believe it was a tarot card that walked, talked, and caused so much anguish.

He's the Ten of Swords, Mary told herself. All he ever will be is anguish.

Still, something whispered in her mind that he was more than hopelessness, despair, anguish, and ruin. There had to be something more, or else why would she want him so much?

Because there's a part of you that knows it's all you deserve.

Mary shuddered at the thought, and then she was opening the door to her meager room that had a dresser, double bed, nightstand, lamp, and a tiny bathroom. She wasn't ashamed. It's what she could afford. It's what she needed. And as she turned to face Ruin, as he shut door, grabbed her arms, and slammed her against the cheap wood, she knew the room wasn't all she needed. Mary stared up at him, panting, poised there with her jeans still half-open, her panties soaked, and her nipples tight. She knew what Ruin offered in bed. She knew she'd take every bruise, every cut, every bite, and only ask for me. "Like what you see?" she finally asked, and was her voice really that husky?

Ruin smiled, slow and shark-like, and purred, "You know I do, Legs."

She raised one knee between Ruin's legs and rubbed at the hardness there beneath the denim. "Then what the hell are you waiting for?"

"For you to beg," Ruin groaned.

Mary couldn't help herself. She hauled back and punched him in the gut. "I'll never beg," she said as he doubled over and coughed. Even as she said it, she didn't really believe it. He'd make her beg. One of these days, he'd drive her so fucking wild, she'd beg.

Ruin gave a barking laugh, and then grabbed her by her upper arms—so hard, she knew she'd bruise—and shoved her onto the bed. He pulled off her combat boots, her sensible socks, and then peeled her jeans off. "Only a matter of time, Legs," he said, and there was such dark promise in his words. "And time's something I have an infinite amount of."

"Shut up and fuck me," Mary ground out, ignoring the way Ruin's voice sent a shiver through her. She pulled the button and zipper free and shoved Ruin's jeans down his hips. Thank God he didn't wear anything beneath them; it made it easier to grope him roughly, give him a little more incentive.

Ruin slapped her hands away with a moan and took hold of her legs. With a harsh yank, he dragged her closer to the edge of the bed. His hands pushed her legs open and pinned them harshly to the bed at her sides. It left her utterly exposed, but the sharp words that sprang to her tongue were cut off by a cry as he knelt and attacked her pussy.

Mary writhed, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling until he groaned against her. She was hot. Burning up. It didn't feel like she'd come in the cold alley. Mary was gasping within minutes, Ruin's mouth vicious against her. Teeth and tongue worked her clit, and his nails bit into the tender flesh of her thighs. When he thrust two fingers into her, she screamed. Mary shuddered against the sheets in the stuffy warmth of her rented room, coming against Ruin's eager, hungry mouth.

As she lay there, panting, her head spinning with pleasure and the stinging pain she'd come to associate with sex and Ruin, Ruin crawled up her body. She watched him toss his shirt aside, and then his hands were on her shirt. He ripped it.


"Shut up, Legs, and just enjoy yourself, hmm?"

At least he had more care with her bra. The minute her breasts were bared, his mouth was on them. She arched her back, pressed closed as the heat and hardness of his cock rubbed against the wet slit of her. His teeth bit around her nipple, and his fingers pulled and twisted the other until she was screaming again, her nails raking red ribbons down his shoulders.

It was when he'd pushed her to the edge yet again that he finally thrust into her, slamming himself forward so hard that it ripped another harsh cry from her throat. "Fuck!" she cursed, the pain mixed with just enough pleasure to make the penetration bearable. Better than bearable. Intoxicating was more like it. As he set a rough, unapologetic pace, all she could do was pull at his hair and dig her heels into his ass.

This is what they had: fucking and violence, pain and pleasure. She didn't know why she wanted it so much, why Ruin made her heart race and chills race down her spine.

Their lips met in another series of hard, toothy kisses, and she tasted blood again. This time, she was sure it was hers. Didn't matter. It just added another layer of pleasure atop all the other pleasure. She dug her nails into the meat of his back, pulled, left a wake of beaded blood along the grooves. Ruin bit her throat, made her scream yet again, and he drew the blood he'd promised her he would. It was good. So good. And goddamn him for making so good.

"Hate you," Mary growled, staring at the ceiling as his hand snaked between them, rubbed at her mercilessly.

"That's the problem, Legs," he panted against her ear. "You don't."

Mary's world became awash in shades of red as she came against his fingers, around his cock. She shouted his name as he groaned hers, as he spilled himself inside her. The world spun, and Mary didn't think it would ever right itself.

Not with Ruin walking the earth.

All works contained here are copyrighted to K. Piet. No reproduction or usage is permitted without written, express consent by the author.