Kink: rough, not really kinky, sad
Ship: Patrick/Gerard
Top: Patrick
Bottom: Gerard
Words: 1061

(A/N): Potentially triggering: contains rape.

I know. Patrick needs a snickers.

"Gerard~" Patrick sang from the living room, his voice a little too bright to be normal. His words a little too slurred to be normal. His mind a little too intoxicated to be normal. Despite his happy voice, he scared me when he was drunk.

He had a drinking problem and it wasn't comforting, he was dangerous when he was drunk. I thought he'd be out longer than he was but no. He was here and I couldn't leave the house fast enough. I silently shut and locked the door to the bathroom, isolating myself a begging him not to come in. Pleading to nobody in general that he'd just leave.

"I know you're home, Baby. Come out, I'm not gonna hurt you." He called, getting closer to the door.

"Patrick, please go away, you're drunk." I said in a shaky tone.

"Gerard, Baby. I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise, open the door." He replied his hands testing the knob.

"You scare me when you're drunk..."

"Honey, it's just me. Open the door."

My hands reach for the knob. I can't believe I'm doing this but maybe... Maybe he really doesn't want to hurt me... Maybe this time it'll be different...

I open the door slightly, seeing him there with his "innocent" face and beautiful blonde hair.

And then he had me by the wrist and he was throwing me against the wall.

"I'm so fucking horny..." He whispered into my ear, "Have you been a bad boy?"

"Patrick, stop. I don't like doing this when you're drunk." I replied, trying to be brave, "Please just go to sleep..."

He slammed me against the wall again, leaving bruises on my back and bringing tears to my eyes.

"You've been a very naughty boy, resisting me..." He growled into my ear.

"Patrick, stop. You don't have my fucking consent." I whined, desperate to just make him stop.

"Then I guess I'll just have to force it." He said, his mouth right at my ear.

There were tears of fear at my eyes because I was scared. I knew I shouldn't have opened the goddamn door. What's wrong with me?

He threw me into the bedroom, on the bed before he yanked off his pants, not even bothering with his shirt.

I tried to roll away, I tried to get out of there but he had my hands pinned above my head.

"Patrick, stop," I cried out as he yanked down my pants to the floor, followed soon after by my underwear.

He looked up at me with his drunken glare and I was scared. I was so scared. I was fucking terrified of him because I knew how rough he could be. And I knew how aggressive of a drunk he was. And I knew this was going to hurt.

He didn't even bother with prepping before he was slamming into me.

I screamed out in pain. It burned and it hurt like hell. My vision flickered for a split second but I stayed conscious as he rammed into me whispering, "slut," and, "whore," under his breath.

"Patrick! Stop! Pleeeaase..." I yelled out, sobs and chokes emitting from my throat.

He slapped my ass as he rammed harder into me, not even aiming for my prostate.

"You've been such a naughty boy," He growled into my ear.

"Patrick, stop, please it hurts..." I whimpered, tears falling from the corners of my shut eyes.

"Punishments are supposed to hurt," He barked, making me flinch.

He went impossibly harder, I was sore. I was really fucking sore and I was in so much pain. I was so desperate for it to end. All this pain. The intensity. Everything.

His thrusts began to get a little sloppy and I hoped he was almost done because I couldn't take much more of this.

"You're such a fucking slut." He growled, "You know you fucking deserve this, whore."

He moaned loudly as his thrusts began to slow down and the burning subsided slightly.

I felt him stop, his release spreading inside of me and I immediately scrambled away while I still could, while he was still tired. I took my pants from the floor as I rushed to the bathroom, tears in my eyes.

I cried myself to sleep in the bathtub
that night and he didn't even come to check on me.

The next morning, I didn't dare come out of the bathroom. I was scared that he'd only hurt me more. I was scared that he'd do something worse.

I was sore and it was hard to get out of the bathtub because it hurt so much. He had hurt me. But I couldn't leave.

"Gerard?" Patrick called from outside the door, "Where are you? What happened last night?"

I tried to quiet my sobs but they kept coming and Patrick knocked on the door. He knew where I was. Would he hurt me again?

"Babe? Are you okay? What happened?"

The door opened. Shit, I forgot to lock it last night.

I backed away from him, tears still in my eyes.

"Gee? What happened? Holy smokes..." He tried to reach out for me but I was too scared he'd hurt me. He backed away, "please tell me what happened..."

I wiped the tears from my eyes, "I-it hurts..." That's all I could say, I couldn't find the courage to say anything else.

His hands went to his mouth in shock, "I hurt you..." He had a look of pure guilt and shock on his face.

"You need to get this drinking problem fixed because you fucking raped me last night and- and- I can't keep doing this..." I burst into tears again.

"Baby, I'm so sorry..." He held out his hand to me, "Come here..."

I was hesitant, I was really hesitant. What if he hurt me again? What if he only raped me again? But I saw his guilt. His sober expression. I took his hand with mine, shakily. He pulled me into a hug.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Patrick whispered into my ear, "I'll get this problem fixed and we can live happily again..."

"P-promise...?"

"Promise,"