Anger Management M/F, by NYIrishRed
"No!!!!"
The ejaculation didn't affect his stride towards the living room one bit.
"I.....said....NO!!!!"
With that, she dug her heels well into the carpet she was already on... her abrupt deceleration managing to finally catch his attention. He turned to fix her with a glare, just in time to spy the puny fist swinging directly towards his oh-so-superior, holier-than-thou kisser.
Fortunately (for him!!), his reflexes were far better than her rage-clouded brain gave him credit for. She found her fist easily captured, her own momentum used against her as she was briskly spun about, arms now crossed and trapped in front of her, and hoisted off her feet.
Paws was the word that briefly entered his mind, as he felt her fighting him with all the ferociousness of a cornered tiger. What little sense and sanity she had left was apparently deposited at the front door, along with her car keys. God, how could she be so irrational and thoughtless!
A brief frisson of panic flared inside, jarring id into ego as her conscious self overpowered her self-preserving instincts in moment of realization that perhaps she could have chosen a wiser course of action. Then it was gone, and looking out for Number One kicked back in with a vengeance. God, why the hell was he such a self-important bastard!
Self-destructive twit! He knew her and what brought on her out of control behavior. He recognized, then ignored, the frantic battle she was waging with him and within herself against the inevitable outcome. Spotting the well-worn ottoman, he clasped her more firmly to his hip and hauled her spitting, furious self towards it with a single-minded intent.
She spotted the cursed ottoman, and mounted one last, desperate, surging scramble for escape. Outmatched and outmaneuvered, she still managed to land an elbow someplace soft on his person before she found herself pinned (rather gently, she would have thought in calmer circumstances) face down across his knee, legs trapped between his own, right arm locked into the small of her back, left arm flailing helplessly, her hand grasping only air as her mind grasped at straws.
His own grasp of intellect was challenged momentarily, as he listened to her rapid-fire half-truths mixed with half-lies, interspersed with words both foul and fruitless. He ducked his head to wipe the perspiration from his face onto his cotton-covered shoulder, taking a deep, calming breath in the process. With that, he made short work of (and was determined to make short work of) whatever stood between them, and finally... with an end in view... raised his hand.