Spillage - The Plug & The Privileged
Unedited & Subject to change...
A tug of her shirt forced her back into her home and against the wall beside the door. With a loud thud, she connected to the peach colored canvas. Fabian had transformed into a ball of rage at her last statement. The thought of anyone besides him caressing her insides drove him mad. It wasn’t the talk of divorce, her father, or his mistress that stirred him. Reign’s inclination of bedding another man had driven a screw into his soul.
“Don’t ever let me here you say no shit like that again!” Fabian woofed, nose to nose.
Spit flew from his mouth, and onto Reign’s face. His index finger puncturing her forehead with every word. Rage infuriated him. Veins sprouted from his forehead, arms, and neck. The intensity of the situation was too much to bare. Backing away from Reign’s body, Fabian slapped his open palm against the wall.
Reign stood, still and unmoving. She was semi-satisfied with his anger. He’d managed to disarm her, heart dislodged and run down. It was, now, her mission to do the same. However, seeing as how distraught her comment made him, she knew that his dismantling was at the snap of her finger –few slips of her lips.
“You’re my world, yo! You can’t just be saying shit like that.” Fabian turned his back, and Reign turned hers, too. Pulling the door open, she didn’t bother looking at her husband. She had nothing further for him.
“Don’t…” Fabian reached for Reign, but she returned. Swiftly, she slammed their door and began her verbal lashing. Closing in on Fabian, she spoke in a calm –yet clear- manner. “Let me tell you something, scum. You didn’t marry an average Joe. I’m a woman in every sense of the word, but I will fuck you up like a nigga in the streets. Don’t put your crusty dick beaters on me again, or you’ll regret it each time you use them to wheel yourself in some fancy chair that’ll never award you the mobility that you desire. Each time you change your big bag of shit that is with you each minute of the day, you’ll regret it. After regret has crumbled your core, you’ll be using those same hands to pull the trigger and put yourself out of your misery while I’m dancing in the sun with my husband and possibly some little ones.” Reign stepped on Fabian’s toes. He was aware that she had reservations about children, and didn’t desire them as the average woman. For her to mention them were mind-boggling. “Don’t wreck yourself Fabian.”
Gazing from the top of his head to his toes, Reign dared her husband to make the wrong move. Their heart rate both heightened as they made eye contact with one another. Reign nostrils were wide, demanding space, while Fabian’s chest poked -claiming all around him.
“I’m just going to be a cripple ass nigga.” Fabian shrugged before lunging at his wife. Forcing her back against the wall, again, he parted her lips with his tongue. Removing his hands from her shoulders, he busied them below. Without visual assistance, he was able to unclothe her –removing her denim.
“Lift up.” His hands caressed her neck, pressured slightly.
Fabian was in no mood for amusement. At the sound of her threats, he had every intention of fucking her into a coma. By the time he finished her off, she wouldn’t have enough strength to think of leaving him. As far as another man was concerned, it would be the furthest from her thick skull.
Understanding that Fabian was rather aroused by her threats than frightened, Reign’s guard fell. It didn’t take much instruction for her to assist Fabian in removing her clothing. She tussled with her heart and brain, simultaneously, while her body defeated all three. Before she could contain her emotions or motions, she was turned around, bent over, tears cascading down her cheeks, and dick brushing against her precious pouch.
“You ain’t going no fucking where. I told you that shit, and I meant it.” Fabian smacked her ass, watching it seize on his manhood. “We’ve got twelve bedrooms in this bitch. Choose one.” His last statement accompanied his entrance.