Info: Degrassi, Darcy/various, NC-17
Warnings: Just know there are some. 😉
Darcy used to get so wet that by the time she got home from school, her thighs would be sticky and she’d curl up under her covers, not even removing her clothes, and slide her fingertips against her aching body and moan her own name, thinking that her own fingers were less of a sin than someone else’s and her own name less of a sin than Spinner’s or Peter’s or the Lord’s.
Once she gets to Johnny’s house everything feels so much less spontaneous and stunning, probably because she planned it, and because his place is precisely how she expected it to be – grubby and lonely and dark. His lips still start sparks against her skin and her top comes off just like she wanted it to, her breasts like beacons. But he stops when she shouts for it, his body pressing against hers, his fingers inside her panties, working over her.
She wants to be held down. She wants to see Christ under her eyelids as he fucks her shaking body.
Darcy strips in front of her mirror, her ratty hair covering the tops of her breasts, but the nipples peek through, like sad eyes. She holds her breath and thinks of Spinner, of Peter, of Johnny, of Snake, and she moves her fingers between her thighs in desperation but there’s nothing, nothing, and she forces her way in despite herself and it hurts, and she doubles over, catching herself on the mirror with her left hand. Darcy gasps, twisting her fingers, and scratches.
“Stop,” she whispers, but her heart speeds up when she pulls her hand free and sees blood.