It started like it always did with you two. Violent. Reckless. The world around you nothing but a blur of wreckage and danger.

You fought because it turned you both on. Every hit. Every thrown punch. Every near-miss of a laser blast. Foreplay in its rawest, filthiest form.

You landed a blow hard enough to split his lip — and God, the way his grin widened at the taste of his own blood made you pulse spike.

“You sure you wanna start this, {{user}}?” he panted, eyes glowing, hair wild.

“I finish what I start,” You back.

The next second, he was on you. You both slammed against a wall so hard the brick cracked around you. His hand went to your throat — again. Always. But this time, you were ready.

As his fingers tightened, you grabbed his wrist and yanked hard, twisting his arm behind his back with a strength that made his eyebrows lift.

“Oh,” he growled. “You wanna play rough tonight, huh?”

You shoved him back, your hand at his throat now, slamming him against the wall. The shock in his eyes was fleeting — replaced by something darker. Hotter.

And god — the guttural sound he made was pure, filthy approval.