Bad day at work

She knew something was wrong as soon as he came in the door. It wasn't that he slammed it or shouted as he walked in. He didn't. He just walked in quietly, dropped his rucksack in the corner on his way to the kitchen to make a coffee. He didn't need to say anything, she could see it in the way he walked, stiff and precise. It was in the simple "heya" he gave her as he walked past. She could see it in the set of his face, the tight cold smile he gave her. No warmth, but most it was in his eyes. They didn't smile.

She slipped up behind him, her arm curling behind his back to give him a quick one armed squeeze. Nothing too pushy, just to show she was there for him to talk to. He gave her another bright smile but didn't respond. "Oh" she thought "one of those days". With a sigh she thought back to the last time this had happened. He got stressed at work but it had seemed to be getting better. He still got frustrated but they talked and laughed over it. He knew things werent going to get better, it was just a matter of time before the lure of the flexible hours and the good salary were ground down by the hassle, politics and lack of job satisfaction. Most of the time they made it into a joke, taking the mickey out of things, bitching, grousing. Sometimes like tonight though something would happen that would make it personal again. It was usually down to someone in his team backstabbing or sniping. It was one thing to expect it from the other's he worked with, something else when it was your own team turning against itself.

It would always go the same way. He would go cold, formal, distant. A politeness that masked a distance that while only a few centimetres could feel like a million miles. This could go on for days. He didn't mean it, he didn't mean to push her away, it was just how he dealt with it. Closing off inside. She could almost feel a physical chill coming from him as they stood hip to hip at the counter in silence. No. Not tonight. Not again. With another quick squeeze she took her leave, taking her time as she climbed the stairs. She wanted a moment to think, to know she was doing the right thing. By time she had reached the bedroom she was resolved to the course of action.

When she returned to the kitchen he was still there, sipping at his coffee disinterestedly, gazing off to the distance. He seemed smaller, almost as if he had been crushed. A defeated slump in his shoulder, something he tried to shrug off as he heard her approach. She wasn't fooled, she knew it was still there - he was just hiding it to try and protect her in his own way. Walking up behind him she didn't say a word, waiting til he put his cup down before reaching out and grasping his hair firmly, digging her fingers in. This got his attention, with a growl he tried to turn managing a stiffled "what the hell?" before breaking off with a yelp as his head was snapped back forcefully. Dragging him by his hair she twisted him, pushing him against the wall hard before he had time to think. Pinned, face pressed against the wall he let out a growl... hands lifting to place his palms flat in an attempt to push himself back but stopped by the painful response of nails digging into his scalp.

She wanted this to be fast, to keep him off his balance before in his cold state he tried to shrug her off. Lifting his t-shirt quickly to expose his back it was barely a moment before the first stroke of the lash was striking down against his flesh. "Yowwwww" he shrieked in shock, supporting himself with his hands. Again she swung back her hand, bringing the lash she had collected from the bedroom down on his bare back. Over and over, insistant and methodical she brought it down on him, a regular even tempo. Not harsh... but direct. Definite. Purposeful. The red marks appearing on his skin, soon beginning to merge against one another as they criss-crossed. She bit her lip as she heard the first whimper, knowing she was getting through. She felt each blow as it snapped across his skin as if it were her who was receiving them. It wasn't that she disliked hurting him. Sometimes she would do it just on a whim because she knew she could and then she would love it... love the way he would cry out, promise anything. This was different though. This was for them. He didn't resist now, each blow across the already tender skin bringing whimpers that seemed to roll into one. Over and over she struck... til finally, the tears came, rolling down his cheeks as he cried, the pain breaking through the barriers. Sobbing now, tears from the pain mixed with those from the hurt inside. Her own cheeks were wet, salty with tears. She cried with him, more blows as she watched the dam burst within him. She wasn't scared of showing weakness, this wasn't that. She had the strength to hurt him as he needed despite the pain it caused her, she had the strength to cry with him to show her love.

Dropping the lash she pulled him into her arms. They stood, clinging for all they were worth, sobbing against each other as the moment brought release. Then they made love, frantically needing to heal the pain within, to come together again after that cruel distance. Her act of love restoring them to their places. The one that was hers returned, that distant stranger just a memory now.

Later, much later, they talked and he told her of the day.