Saviour

Self Destruction = Sex?

WARNING:

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A LOT OF SMUT, IF YOU DON'T WISH TO READ IT THEN PLEASE WAIT UNTIL THE NEXT CHAPTER HAS BEEN UPLOADED.

Also I would like to note that this chapter is unedited. Continue

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        Self-destruction is a bad habit of mine. I don't mean like when a traumatic event happens and you shut down or something. I'm talking about when you'refaced with something you're not used to and instead of learning howto deal with them you use destructive means to rid yourself of them. I suppose you guys have figured this out now due to my self-harm but if you haven't I will spell it out for you. Emotions and I do not mix and when I have to deal with them I do so in unhealthy manner. For example, when dealt with conflicting emotions regarding your best friend you find yourself in a bar picking up guys.

The club was packed when I walked up to it and the line of people waiting to gain entrance was growing. Of course me being me I was able to get in no problem with a smile to the bouncer. "Back again,Raine? Haven't you've grown bored of this place?" he grinned, his gold tooth shining brightly against his dark skin.

"Slim pickin's these days Dawson. Can't branch out much." I responded, placing a kiss on his cheek as I walked by him and through the door. I danced through the crowd towards the bar, moving between the intoxicated and sweaty bodies of others. I learned when I first started coming here that asking your way through the crowd wasn't exactly the most efficient way to get yourself drunk. After successfully grinding on strangers I was greeted with my favorite person in the world, the bartender.

"What'll ya have?" he asked, not even bothering to look up from the glass he was cleaning.

"Shots. Line em up." I answered and hopped up on a bar stool.

A few minutes later I was greeted by a voice that sounded as if it had plenty of experience with cigarettes over the years. "So babe,do you come here often?" the voice to the left of me asked.

I rolled my eyes and debated between throwing one of my shots of whiskey in his face or downing it. Fortunately for him I don't believe in wasting alcohol and threw it back before turning my heads towards him. Awe, I just realized I'm down to 4, bartender better get me more. "Seriously? That's all you got? 'Do you come here often?', and I'm not a pig so don't call me babe." I was hoping he'd ignore me after that, most guys would but unfortunately this guy was oblivious. I bet if I said "Fuck off" he'd probably think I was meaning "Come closer".

"Feisty, gotta say, I'm liking it." he moved closer to me and put his hand on my thigh before leaning down to my ear. "Wanna get out of here?"

My eyes flickered towards my decreasing amount of shots and I tossed another one back before picking up his hand and dropping it in his lap. "I'm positive that my own two fingers would be more stimulating than whatever it is that you have to offer, babe." Damn, now I'm down to 3.

I heard a snicker come from down the bar and glanced over just enough to see that my favorite person in the world was laughing while finishing up a drink. "Something funny, bartender?" the creep next to me asked. Apparently I wasn't the only one who heard it.

I glanced back over the bartender, noticing how he was slightly less focused than he was a few moments ago and chose to ignore it by downing the next shot and leaving me with one more. I pouted and grabbed the rim of the glass, rotating in between my fingers. The bartender also must have noticed that it was my last because he appeared in front of me with a few more and I let out a small 'yay!'before downing the one entertaining my fingers.