the sweetest con [d.m]

six

Mavi shuts her father's bedroom door behind her, quietly drying her tears with her sleeve.

It's mid-September and this is the second batch of magical Draughts she's tried on him — to no avail. She's already hesitant about feeding him anything too potent because she doesn't know how his body would react to all the magical ingredients within.

But there isn't even a shred of improvement — nothing to give her a sliver of hope. He just lies there. Smiles at her and holds her hand and tells her to be good before he drops off back to sleep.

"Hey, sweet." Easton's voice makes her look up and she freezes. He was supposed to be out with his friends tonight but here he is, kicking off his shoes.

"I thought you were staying at Greg's tonight," she says, cautiously. He'd yelled at her before he left — she'd zoned out so much, she can barely remember why — but now he seems to be in a better mood.

"Yeah but I thought..." He swaggers over to her, a smile on his face. He's got such a nice smile. It was what attracted Mavi to him in the first place. "It'd be better to stay in with my girlfriend tonight."

Mavi avoids his touch as his fingers brush her cheek. "What's the real reason?"

He sounds offended as she walks away towards the balcony. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean," she says, folding her arms across her chest. "There has to be another reason."

"I can't spend time with my girlfriend?"

She says nothing — just looks at him, blankly.

He sighs. "Greg got with some girl at the pub. He took her home and left me—" He points at himself. "Alone."

Mavi watches as he comes closer, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his flannel. "I don't want to have sex tonight, Easton."

He freezes, eyebrows pulling together. "Why not?"

"I'm just not in the mood. I'm tired."

"Come on." He pouts like a child. "Please?"

Mavi shakes her head. "I really don't think—"

"Please." He grabs her hands tight, looking imploring. "You know it's something I need. It's only natural, you know — for men."

She pulls her hands from his grasp. "I understand but I really think I should go. It's getting late—"

"Mavi." He steps closer and she can sense the tension coiling in him. He's getting ready to snap. "It'll be quick. Just relax."

He starts kissing her neck, hands already sliding off his flannel. "I'll make you feel good," he mumbles against her skin and she shuts her eyes in frustration. "I promise."

You never have before, she wants to say. Instead, she tries again. "I should...really go..."

But he continues, shoving a hand down her jeans, and with the roughness that he does it with, she can tell he's desperate. And if she denies him now, he'll yell and shatter plates and cause a scene.

So Mavi gives in once again. It's consensual, she tells herself as he lays her down on the sofa. You never pushed him off. You never screamed.