Daddy and Mommy

Jackson 

Michael is too quiet.

I know what's brewing inside that head of his. The same thing that's brewing in my head.

I am fuming. I am hurting.

She's been hurting for two fucking years because of that bastard. That ungrateful bastard.

How dare he take advantage of our girl?

She's been nothing but good to him. All he does is spend her money with that whore he's been seeing. I don't understand why Samantha kept up with this for so long.

My ears perked up when I heard loud crashing sounds downstairs. I heard Michael's loud angry roars and dashed out of the room.

I walked into the lounge area to see Michael wreaking havoc. The coffee table was upside down, broken into shards, with all the contents spilt. The couches were shoved, and there was a broken glass thrown on the wall, with liquid dripping down. He was panting, standing in the middle of the mess. His eyes looked up at me, and I pursed my lips.

This isn't the first time something like this has happened. Michael is an angry man. He gets angry quite easily. Even though he's the gentlest person – well, outside the bedroom – he's also a physical man. He's never afraid to throw in a punch when you piss him off.

It can even get very dark. I've witnessed it. He's never been rough or abusive to me. Or Samantha, our best friend. I love that no matter how much I tend to rile him up, he's never been physical with me. He's quite calm and collected. Sometimes he treats me like I'm his most precious possession.

Fuck if I don't love that.

He's my dream man. The day we both figured out our feelings for each other was like a breath of fresh air. We went from being friends to being in a relationship. I'd never regret making that decision. He's everything I've ever wanted in a person.

Even though the both of us tend to get naughty and bring in a third person, it's usually for a sexual purpose and nothing more. We like sharing with whoever we allow into our bedroom. We made a rule.

Whoever we bring, we use a different room and not our master bedroom. We value our privacy and our space.

We don't fall in love with that person. Never. We have ourselves, and it's been that way ever since. I'm quite smitten by him, and I'd like to think he is too.

I love everything about this man. He's not one to talk. He keeps to himself. To anyone outside of our group, he's a mysterious, quiet man. We've known each other our whole lives, so we are comfortable with being vulnerable and open to each other. He's fun to be with when he lets loose.

He also takes his work very seriously. I, on the other hand, tend to drag out working. I love my job. Honest truth. I just have one of those 'oh fuck it' days. Michael knows how to snap me out of those. I've lost count of how many we've fucked at the office. We've had people walk in on us, and Michael makes no move to stop.

I love how he's not afraid to express himself. If he needs me to do something for him, he tells me right away. He's straightforward about it too. He made it his mission to let me know how 'celestial' I am when we're fucking. He tells me he loves my moans, my body, the faces I make, and how good I feel when he's inside of me. It always makes me blush. I still get flustered because for a long time I've been insecure about how I am.

To anyone, I come across as a masculine person. I'm leaner than Michael, but I sure do pack a few muscles here and there. I'm 5'8", and Michael is 6'5". I don't particularly possess boyish qualities. I was never a twink, which is what most men prefer. I'm quite manly and dominant-like. When I'm with Michael, though, that's all out the window. The man brings out the boy in me. I love every moment of it. With him, I can be vulnerable and open. I love being his submissive because he takes good care of me, and we both tend to our needs when we finish being sexual.

Michael likes it raw and rough, and I have to admit, I live for that. I love how he manhandles me and is still caring. Sometimes he fucks my brains out until I'm on the verge of passing out from so much pleasure. I know I can trust him to take good care of me when I'm most vulnerable. It's the best feeling in the whole world.

I could never ask for a better man than him. And he's hot, so that's a bonus.

I trudged down the steps to where he is. He hadn't moved, and he was still panting. Despite the outburst, he was still angry. I could see that. When I stepped closer, he stepped back. "Don't come closer," he warned quietly. "I don't want to hurt you, love," he said.

"It's okay," I reassured him, closing the distance between us. "I know you won't hurt me." I took his face in my hands. "You never gave me a reason to be afraid of you." I gave him a soft smile, which he couldn't return.

Yep. Still angry.

I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him. He did the same, tightening his hold on me. He let out hot breaths in an attempt to calm himself. When it didn't work, he let out a growl. "I can't..." he stammered under his breath.

"I know." I pulled back to look at him. I know he's struggling. I know that whatever's on his mind, it's dark and vicious, and it won't let him go. I know that he wants to go to that bastard who hurt our girl. I know that he wants blood. "I can help with that." His eyes found mine in confusion.

Pulling back, I took his hand in mine and led him back upstairs. He followed silently, not questioning me. I walked in our bedroom and stopped at the foot of the bed, turning to him. I eyed him to see any reaction. All I saw was hesitation.

Anger and sexual desire are strong, overpowering forces. They are both forms of passion. When a couple engages in ravenous, unbridled sex because they are angry or enraged, it's the best thing. It tops lovemaking for many reasons. It serves as a make-up tool when words can't be exchanged, to avoid saying hurtful things. It is the only exception to riling up your partner and giving him or her a good spanking – with consent, of course – without the fear of abuse. We both may not be able to walk the next day, but it's worth it.

And I'm quite a pain slut for Daddy Michael. He might not be mad at me, but we're both angry. For our girl, Samantha. We're furious. I'm the calm one in this group, but that doesn't mean I don't crave blood just as much as Michael does. I tend to throw punches here and there, but I can control myself. That comes with giving people a calculated, slow, painful revenge. I like to drag out my punishment.

And when I finally see that bastard, I'll show him that I can be a monster too.

No one messes with our princess and gets away with it.

Looking up at Michael, I bunched up my T-shirt and pulled it over my shirt. His eyes lowered to my abdomen, and I saw lust flashing in his eyes. "Jackson, we can't," he said, stepping back.

"I trust you," I said, gripping his forearm. "I do. With my life. You know I don't mind a little pain. We both need this. To blow off steam", admittedly, we've never had angry sex. It's always the hardcore dominant pleasure, and it was in control. "I'm pissed off too by what happened. By what that imbecile did to our girl, and I'm scared I might just kill him when I see him," I said

Michael eyed me, debating whether to give in or not. "I'm yours." I closed the distance between us, taking his face. "Yours to do whatever you please. I can handle it. I promise. And if it gets too much –

"Your safeword," he said, his chest rising and falling. His eyes shone with a new light. The fire is licking what's left of his control. He gripped my waist, and my heart jumped with anticipation. He nodded to himself. "You know I love you, right?" He tells me.

"And I love you," I said, pecking his lips softly. He lets me take control for a moment. "I trust you," I whispered against his lips. He lets out a growl when I nibble on his lower lip, pulling it.

Before I could even blink, Michael swiftly turned me around until I was facing the bed. He pushed me down until half of my body was lying on the bed. Moving my hips up in the air, he yanked the jeans down and my underwear too. If anything, I was turned on by all of this. My cock throbs painfully.