(Heavy Trigger Warning)

Aurora's Point Of View

Magnificently appetizing aromas of food teased my post-hangover senses. I indulged in the smell, shifting my body in the covers, adjusting to waking up. I let out a groan, feeling spent.

The sun wasn't obnoxiously strong as it was in the morning, signaling it was surely late evening. How long had I slept?

I reveled in the comfort of the bed without the sulking feeling of waking up to the demon, Arlan, himself. The Uber had dropped me off very late, and now it was probably mid-afternoon, Tuesday. Well, there goes going to school today.

I greedily inhaled the smell of food; It was so strong, despite being all the way downstairs in the kitchen. It was odd, because nobody usually cooked but Nate in the evening. Elise only cooked around breakfast time. Seeing as he and Arlan were supposed to be gone for two days, who would be cooking besides Nate?

Unless they were back early?

Peeling the covers off, I look down to my wrist.

"Cherry Lips West Hollywood Club" Wristband adorned it. I laughed under my breath, my bare feet pad against the floor and softly open the bedroom door. Queen is playing...which means it's Nate. And that means Arlan's back too. I quickly tear the wristband off, crumple it and shove it in my sweatpants pocket.

But I'm too hungover to dread seeing Arlan so soon. I just want the comfort of being with Nate. I pad my feet down the winding staircase in my oversized cotton T-shirt and sweats.

Whistling to 'Under Pressure', Nate directed his spatula in different directions, tilting his head to the beat.

"You're back," I smile gently, relieved to see him in black sweats and a maroon hoodie.

A bit startled, Nate turned, pearlescent honeycomb eyes on me with his hood over his head. He offered a small grin, looking very exhausted, and turned the music off. I missed that smile, it brought a lot of relief to me. I wonder when he got back, why he's cooking after such a long flight. Surely he'd want a nap, but maybe he was stressed. He did mention to me that he cooks while being stressed out.

"Hi, Aurora. How are you kiddo?" He greets warmly.

I settled onto the cold, wooden floor beside his legs, relieved to have his presence. My head leans against the sandpaper of his leg hair and my eyes flutter close.

"Tired," I mumble.

"Hm, yeah?" He cooed above the sizzling cooking sounds, scratching my hair briefly. "I can see. It's 1 PM, kiddo. We got back ten minutes ago."

"And you're already cooking?" I mumble tiredly. "Are you stressed?"

He laughs gingerly beneath his breath. My arms wrap around his leg. I don't know if it's the hangover or my emotions, but I'm clingy. I'm clinging on to the security and soothingness Nate brings to me.

"A little," He murmurs.

"What're you making?" I mumbled gingerly, trying to ignore the migraine gnawing at my skull. I wonder if he knows I'm hungover and I pray to God he doesn't.

"Just some rice," Nate stroked my hair.

I grinned and closed my eyes at the soothing nature of it. I had missed the comfort of his presence. While I was mourning the loss of Beck, at least I had Nate, who always felt so protective over me. If I didn't have Nate for some comfort to my anxiety, I don't know what I'd do.

"Aurora, get away from Nate," A spank hit my ass, causing a whimper to erupt as I gasped.

Nate quickly turned around, grimacing at Arlan slightly. My body began trembling. I didn't turn to face him, I didn't even move an inch.

"Now," Arlan's voice was fully authoritative.

Nate's feet inched away from me, making me elicit a defeated sigh. I stood hesitantly, only for Arlan's muscular arm to lift me all the way. His tough hand constricted around my forearm, forcibly tugging me up the stairs. Once he pushed me into his room, I jumped and had icy-blood when he slammed the door.

Arlan's 6'3 stature is torturing over my 5'0 frame, it's impossible not to feel small and cornered. Clad in a dark, luxury suit and pants, his hair is gelled sophisticatedly behind his neck. His eyes hold sheer fury as he scowls, face in an unflinching, sheer mask of vexation. My gut wrenched in cold fear.

"I don't like how close you two have become," He growls. His jade eyes scrutinize me.

I can see the prominence of the veins in his neck constricting and his hands twitching. Hands twitching to punish. Anxiety sweeps through my nervous system.

"I was just saying hi," I insist, and he cuts me off.

"I come home from a sixteen hour flight and the first thing I see is you clinging to his body!" Arlan snarls.

"B-but, Arlan," Tears surge into my eyes and a cry breaks from my lips, my body is vibrating. I hate when anyone yells at me, it triggers my anxiety - especially my captor's yelling. "I-I didn't know you were all coming back today. I-it's nice to see you," I stammer the lie. "How was your flight?"

"I don't like that you've been going to him for your anxiety instead of me," He snaps, something breaking in him. "You shouldn't be depending on anyone but me, Aurora. You want to spend all your time with him - in the car, at school, at events. You fucking dared to sit by him, wrap your fucking arms around him! Enough is enough, you can't talk to him anymore!" He seethes, finger pointing in my face accusingly.

With the shaking of my legs, the crumpled club wristband falls from my pocket to the floor. I try to hide my gasp of fear and quickly lean down to pick it up, shoving it in my pocket.

"What is that?" He coldly demands.

"Nothing," I blurt.

My heart rate skids at an alarming pace as he gives me a testing look.

"It's nothing, it's just the tag. Hadley bought these for me," I muster. My wild clary eyes lower as I quiver beneath his sharp glare.

"You know you're only supposed to be wearing my clothes, Aurora," His mouth flatlined into a grimace and I gulp. "So now you wear other clothes, and going to other people for your anxiety?"

"B-but you're the one who causes the anxiety!" I accuse in a whimper, stomping my foot in exasperation. "Can't you see that, can't you understand?"

"No, I don't!" He screams instantly, making me jump. My arms wrap around myself on their own accord, protecting myself.

Of course he doesn't! He can never understand anything rational!

"You just have to get used to the way I love!" Arlan insists with a tone full of frustration. "Like a fucking adult."

The entire ordeal is maddening; He's always calling me a child, now he insists I have to act like an adult. He plays tug-a-war with each one everyday, I never know what I'm going to get. Is it, 'Pull yourself together and desensitize to my abuse, like an adult', or 'Shut up, you don't know what you're talking about, you're a child'. Frustratedly, I hang my head low, groaning.

Arlan pulls my arm to his broad frame. My head clangs against his abdomen, just beneath his chest, and it's like a bowling ball against my hangover-migraine. I groan quietly in pain. Nothing make sense.

"Just because I love differently and unconventionally doesn't mean I don't love you," Arlan seemingly 'justifies'. He takes hold of my arms to position me at a slight distance so I look up at him.

The tightness in my throat barely allows a pathway to swallow but I try.

"Do you understand?" He challenges.

"I-I just,"-

"Stay away from Nate," Arlan barked, stone-cold.

I flinched, goosebumps rise on my bare arms.

"Please," I begged in a small voice. "You aren't being fair. Everyone deserves to have a friend."

"No," Arlan snapped impatiently, teeth gnashing violently together. "I'm your friend, so why do you need to spend time with Nate?"

"Because Nate is better than you!" I yell blindly, seeing red.

A slap met my face, so rough my weakened knees buckled to the ground. Just as I collapsed with my cheek stinging, Arlan yanked me by the ends of her hair, and I groaned in pain as it pulled at my scalp, he backhanded me once again, and dragging me towards the bed as I was breathless. As soon as he was sat down on the edge of the bed he was throwing me onto my stomach across his legs, I cry in pain when my ribs meet his knees. He pulls my sweatpants below my bum and I whimper, attempting to squirm up, but he pushes me back down, my mind goes to such a small space. In a last attempt of effort to save myself, I palm my hand over his dick.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," I whimpered in anguish, tears cascading one after another down my face. I sniffle as the wetness drips along my cheeks. "I'm sorry."

Arlan stills, seemingly shocked. I was in full survival mode, my brain going to: If I seduce him, he won't hurt me anymore. And it's seeming to work. He doesn't throw my hand away. The spankings haven't come. So I begin to rub him a bit more over his pants, swallowing down the bile in my throat.

He sighs in pleasure under his breath. I can't believe it actually worked. I can feel the tenseness in his body loosening, his constricted, muscular legs stop flexing.

"What are you even doing home?" He grumbles, slouching down a bit to get comfortable and allowing me to rub him harder. It becomes harder for him to speak, his brow furrows. "Why... aren't you on campus, Dove," There's still a sternness in his tone.

I search my scatter-brained, fear-ridden brain for an answer. The tears keep dripping in horror down my face. I can't tell him I was clubbing and drunk off my ass, that would make matters even worse. So the lie was that I missed him - as if anyone would miss his toxic, evil, intolerable and inhumane ass.

"I missed you," I lied through the thick of my tears. "I waited around for you...in case you might come home."

"Mmm, that's my girl," He groaned, starting to coax his hand gently over my hair. "Harder, baby girl."

I tighten my grip and rub him more aggressively. He's panting in no time, tightening against his pants.

"I missed you too, fuck," He hisses as a feeling of sensitivity builds. He sucks in a breath, then exhales slowly. "Jesus, just like that, Dove," He praises. "So good."

I close my eyes in exhaustion and wait for this horrific nightmare of an interaction to be over. At least he is easily distracted by the sexual advance.

"Why are you sorry, aurora?"

"What?" I ask, caught off guard. My eyes flutter open, lashes soaked, to look up at him. His eyes seem to have soften with lust, instead of sharp anger.

"You said you were sorry earlier. Why are you sorry?"

Who could fucking remember? I was desperate, I was trying to protect myself. I muttered some sort of desperate apology- what for? I don't know.

My mind's in a fog. What's the right answer?

"For being the worst," I sputtered. I figured that's what he would want to hear.

A dejected sigh leaves Arlan's lips.

"Darling...you're not the worst," His voice was strained, compromised due to the rising pleasure he was feeling. He groans loudly, his hips buck once. "Why are you really sorry?" He exhales.

"I-I don't know," I whined helplessly, shrugging. It's starting to feel too overwhelming, can't he just let me do this for him?

"Shhh," Arlan insisted, quieting me. "It's okay, just focus on my cock, okay, pretty girl?"

With a few pats to my hair, and my own great self-control, I willed the tears to stop and quieted down. I sniffled, ending the tears.

Arlan's hands cupped my cheeks and softly guided me to look at him. My hand lifted from his crotch.

"Take me out of my pants, baby," He murmurs as I gaze at him.

My eyes lower slightly and Arlan leans forward to capture my mouth with his. After a few kisses, disgusting ones, he leans away. With trembling fingers, I unloop the button of his pants and unzip them. His cock is straining against the fabric of his underwear. My fingertips sink into his boxers and tug them down. But instead of my hand, Arlan's own hand finds his erection that points towards the ceiling and he pumps it. His eyes stare directly at me.

"Do you know how many girls I fucked in Russia, Aurora?"

Hopefully at least one was good enough to make him go back there, and stay there forever.

"None of them," Arlan grunted, shaking his head. His hand picking up speed. "I fucked my hand to you every night, just the thought of you. Not even porn."

How heroic.

"You're the only woman I'll ever fucking want, no one else. I came so hard, baby, every time in the hotel room. I said your name, loudly, I wanted everyone to hear me moaning it."

I fought off a face of disgust, my stomach growing sick.His hand lifted off his erection, chest heaving as he released heavy pants.

"Can you take it from here, Princess? Do just as I did?"

Though I'd rather die, I hesitantly obliged.

"I'm the only man you'll ever need," He panted, "No - I'm the only ever fucking person you'll ever fucking need," Arlan muttered bitterly. "No one else has your best interest but me. Tell me I'm the only person you'll ever need, Aurora Mulven. Fucking tell me."

My eyes welled, and I dared myself to look up at him.

"It's important to have friends," I whispered.

"Friends are fake as fuck," He spat out, growing mad. "They're all going to use you for some reason or another. Their intentions aren't true. I'm all you need, tell me," Arlan panted.

"But..please, understand," I grew upset again. "You know Nate. You know he is a true person."

With that, he shoved my hand off his dick.

"Well, you've officially turned me off," Arlan scowled. "And you're done associating with him, so fucking get used to it. Don't bring his name up again. I try to tell you nicely,"-

Earlier was being 'nice' ?

"... now I'm done being nice. You and I have been dating for four months now, it's not like this is something new; You know all I want you to have is me. Grow up, get used to it."

I gulped and looked down.

"I-I'll try, I guess," I surrendered, a frown painting my face.

"Good. Now take off your clothes. I want to take a bath with you," Arlan grunted. He leaned up, straightening himself out . "I had a long flight, let's just relax."

I whined quietly in fear, face quite swollen with tears. I shifted off his lap and onto the bed beside him.

"I already had a bath," I lie.

With skepticism, his eyebrow raises at my appearance: my bedhead, unbrushed teeth, and some remainders of mascara under my eyes.

"Maybe in your sleep you dreamt you did," He retorts. "Come take an actual bath with me, sweetheart," He rises, shimmying out of his blazer and advancing towards his dresser.

My hands wring together nervously. He opens his closets to carefully hang his blazer. His fingers get to unbuttoning his shirt. I will myself to speak, licking at my dry and cracked lips.

"I'd prefer if I didn't," I start, trying to be polite. "I'm still shaken up with our last time in the bath," Arlan turns to me, his eyes flashing with disdain, and my gut clenches cold again.

"I-I know you, like, apologized, um," I swallowed again, "for drowning me..."

He hasn't blinked once. A cold, unnerving, unfaltering stare meets my eyes. I gulp sideways in my dry throat.

"But, I still am feeling fearful, and unsure I can trust you in there. I need more time."

My body trembles under his heated stare. It's relentless, unflinching. Not a single blink, not one eyelash moves. Maybe he will be so fed up and exhausted that he'll just bathe by himself. It's not so important for me to be there, he can relax on his own. Any rational human would understand my fear and hesitancy.

"No," His words are clipped.

My heart sinks with a heaviness to my gut, which pools with dread. Arlan stares at me expectedly while I eye him back with disbelief. I can't believe him. I truly cannot believe how unrelenting he is. We're playing a staring game, which honestly turns too uncomfortable to handle. So, I wordlessly rise and follow him into the bathroom.

I shyly stand against the closed doorframe as Arlan fully strips. Then, he adjusts the light settings to turn red and dim. He lights tall candle sticks around the bathtub, before leaning up and approaching me.

His fingers hook into my sweats and my stomach clenches anxiously. He surprises me by laughing lightly, then Arlan tugs my sweatpants to my thighs, and I'm embarrassed for my panties to be seen. His fingertips gently trace the lace outline of my panties, fiddle softly with the bow, before pushing the rest of my sweats all the way down. He submerges his toned figure into the bath with a relaxed groan. And I quite literally remain frozen, sweats around my ankles.

Arlan opens his muscular, long arms, beckons me. "C'mere," He murmurs. "While I love the sight of you blushing with your pants around your ankles, I want you here with me."

I open my mouth to retort something back when the heated bruise on my cheek reminds me not to. I have to be calm and collected when expressing my disdain or disagreement.

"I-I told you," I stammer, keeping my tone even keeled and biting my lip. "I don't feel safe. I'm not going in the bath with you. I really don't want you to dunk my head again," My limbs start to quiver again.

"And I'm not going to, and I'm bored of fighting you. So get naked and come in."

I'm silent. Arlan shifts comfortably in the bath, looking down at the right side of the tub.

"Was it really so bad?" He teases, regarding my drowning.

"Yes," I vehemently reply, incredulous at his playfulness. Offense takes over my face and he fights off a smug grin. "It was unexpected, it was terrifying." Arlan shrugs a shoulder.

"Most girls are kinky and into stuff like that. I guess you're one of those boring, vanilla girls."

"So be it," I shake my head in disbelief. I'm not going to let him attempt to shame me for being scared in that moment. "I can talk to you from here. How was your flight?" I mutter.

"You're way more scared of me than you let on. You try to act tough sometimes, hm, baby Dove? But you won't even get in a fucking bath tub with me. I'll keep that in mind."

Frustration peaks through my bloodstream.

"What do you want me to say? Yes, I'm scared of you. You already know that. If you needed to hear it again, there. You just did. And if you're bored of that, then you should just let me go."

Arlan smirked knowingly over his muscular shoulder at me.

"I didn't say I was bored of that. I never get bored of hearing people fear me, Dove. It feeds me. I said you're boring because you're vanilla. It means you don't take risks, do you, Dove?" He taunts.

Actually, ass hat, I do -

I'm in school, working for a degree, I've introduced myself to new people-