CONTAINS CONTENT:
Mild sensual themes.
{{Unedited}}
Everyone filed out of the room, leaving Vincent, Marielle, and Austin alone. Austin leaned over the back of the couch to stretch his back; fingers laced behind his head. “I need to talk to him,” Marielle explained to Vincent in a low voice. “Please let me?” she asked.
Vincent looked down, sadly. “I don’t control you, you do not have to ask,” he replied, his tone saying the exact opposite of what his words did. He pinched her chin. “I’ll keep watch for Tundra,” he explained, giving her a small kiss on the forehead.
Austin was already at the bar, and he was pouring himself a shot of something. Vincent left the room, and both could hear him make his way up the stairs. Austin paused, swallowing, his expression distant. “Drink, darling?” he asked dismissively. He knew that before the chase earlier, she’d been angry with him. Now, he might be pushing it talking to her about much of anything.
He sipped the amber liquid that he’d poured. She looked over the bottles, “Do they have absinthe?” She chuckled, sarcastically.
“That bad, huh?” She shook her head and turned away from him, staring at the fire and trying to hide the fact that she was crying again. “You have no idea,” she whispered, holding herself around the middle and rocking.
He came up behind her, and pressed the glass to her forearm, offering her some of his whiskey. She took it, and sipped. “What can I do?” he asked. “I’m supposed to be helping everyone. No one’s here except you. You’re included in everyone. Talk to me.”
She sat back down on the couch and continued to watch the flames, guardedly. He sat with her, stretching his free arm across the back of the couch… and her.
Both were on edge. Would Tundra try to attack? Vincent had said they were safe, and that he was watching, but Austin was still uneasy.
She turned away from him and closed her eyes. He tried to read her mind, but was blocked out by the confusion plaguing her. It hovered over her head like a dark cloud, confiscating every thought. He caught an occasional word… –Vincent…Tala… so confused… I hate it… Why is it… How come… He licked his lips, finished the whiskey, and set the glass down on the ground, where he squatted and came in front of her. He lifted a hand and put it on her face, stroking a bit of stray hair back. “Talk to me, darling,” he whispered tenderly, endearingly. It was achingly intimate; like they were married and always had been. “It’s okay. I’m with you.”
She shook her head, “I don’t- I don’t even know where to begin,” she stammered, and her eyes glistened, again.
“Let’s begin here,” he whispered, and he lifted a little and pulled her tightly against him, holding her for a moment. Both closed their eyes, and their breathing aligned, “in, and out,” he whispered, guiding her, she did so. “That’s it, darling.” He gently ran his fingertips down her arm until his hand found hers, and they were palm to palm where she pushed into him, and their pulses mixed deeper, stronger. She put her forehead to his shoulder, and he did the same; feeling, listening… feeling complete.
Then she pulled away from him, and leaned back against the couch once she felt more emotionally sturdy. “Vincent told me a lot tonight,” she explained.
“Yeah?”
“I feel it only right to tell you, too,” she said biting her lip hesitantly. Then she blew out through rounded lips. She gestured with her head towards the street. “We were married,” she explained, quietly. “You and me.” His eyes widened in shock, and he zoned out for a moment, considering her words, trying to process them. “That’s what Vincent said- and that…” She took in a shaky breath. He squeezed her hand, looking into her eyes. “He said that you hurt me,” she paused, barely able to finish, “a lot.”
He stood, whirling away, fingertips to his mouth and his eyes focused on the fire for a moment. “I can’t imagine myself hurting you. Not for real.”
She looked up at him, cautiously. “But you have imagined it.” She said matter of factly.
Shame etched every part of his face. He had… when they’d first met and he felt like her resistance to him would drive him mad, he’d thought about repaying that kindness with twisted fantasies that he’d been sickened by. Austin knew that there was a difference between fantasy and what you really wanted and would do. “I have. But… not for a while now,” he replied shakily as he turned to her, again. “He – he said that I beat you?” He looked off. “Vincent’s not super honest, you know?”
“He was telling the truth, Austin.” He took in a ragged breath; mouth ajar for several moments. “Made me dress certain ways, beat me, froze me,” Austin closed his eyes tightly. “Forced me to go through you.”
He felt himself going numb, and somehow sick at the same time; his stomach twisting. “Did I…” he couldn’t finish, but glanced out toward the street.
“Yes.”
He put a hand over his own face, feeling his insides twist in disgust. “You- you don’t think that I would-”
She shook her head, “I don’t, Austin. But I’m very confused right now.” She shook her head. “How are we supposed to understand ourselves, the world, any of this?”
He paced a little, his fingertips to his mouth. “I- I’ll admit this isn’t an area that I’m trained in because… why would I need to be, right?” He blew out through his lips and combed his fingers through his hair. “Because you’re right, this is crazy,” he added. He sat back down by her, and looked her in the eyes, “Do you think that I’d hurt you?”
–He did. A lot.
-Me, Marielle. Let’s not talk about him. Also, let’s remember that you’re not you. I mean, you’re not your double. He combed some of her hair back, and smiled softly at her, adoringly. “He… he said we were married?”
“Yeah. I married you, first.”
“If we’re going to get through any of this, we have to stop thinking about these things as you- me-” he swallowed hard, “The other Marielle married the other Austin,” he corrected. “That was the problem with all of this from the get go, Marielle. I’ve said it before and it’s not beyond me saying it again… you are not Vincent’s wife. There’s a comprehension problem on your behalf, I don’t know, maybe mostly on his, but it’s not as simple as she was your shadow… there are differences.” She closed her eyes, looking away. “Listen to me,” he said pulling her against him again. “I don’t think you’re naïve, Marielle,” he said. “I think you were seduced. He’s still seducing you. He’s chosen now to be completely honest with you so you will bond yourself to him further.”
“I know, Austin… I know and yet-”
“You can’t stop yourself…” he exhaled, hating everything. “You love him,” he said it like a curse under his breath.
“I do, but-” she shook her head against his chest.
He broke away, perhaps telling himself no; temptation becoming too great for him. She wasn’t entirely sure. He sat in silence for a few minutes, putting both thumbs into the space where his eyebrows met the bridge of his nose, and trying to think beyond the wreckage that this situation – her, Tala dying, other Austin – was.
“Let’s… can we talk about like anything other than this?” He pleaded.
“That gelato was excellent,” she said after a moment.
He smirked, and rubbed his bottom lip with his middle finger for a moment, “Yes, yes it was.” He turned back to her, rubbing his hands together. “Are you still angry with me?”
“Yes,” she bit out, crossing her arms.
“Why?” he asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to understand more deeply.
“I said- before we were attacked… you’ve left nothing for me. You think that you want this- you want us,” he nodded, “but you’ve left nothing for me. While I agree that it’s beautiful that you’ve kept your kiss, and I don’t know- maybe it’s for me.” His heart sped up, “but what else? A kiss is just a kiss, Austin.”
He shook his head, licked his lips, and took her hand. “No, Marielle, it’s so much more than that,” he insisted. She gently pulled her hand away from his. He closed his eyes, pain hitting him in every corner of his mind. “It’s disappointing,” he sighed. “And so, so painful.” He looked down.
She waited a beat before saying, “I can’t change how I feel about this.”
“No, but will you allow me to counter it?”
She drummed her lip for a moment, in silence. “What would be the point?”
“Please, darling,” he whispered, tenderly, “Please just let me counter it.” She swallowed, nervously looked down into her lap, and nodded. “I truly thought that you were about more than sex,” she cocked her head at him, curiously, the words not making any sense to her, her expression was almost offended. “You said- you said it back there at the water before the chase- you said that I can’t give you anything new… but Marielle, all that I’ve given you is new,” he explained and he reached for her hand again, taking it, and lacing their fingers together. “I’ve never told anyone who I was outright,” he reminded. “I’ve never been in a motorcycle chase with a woman,” he continued. “I’ve never played games or wanted to play with someone I care about.” He went on. She shifted, uncomfortably, “I’ve never waited for someone…especially when I’m well aware that I might never get her,” he said shakily. It was obvious that that statement hurt. “I’ve never taken a woman to opera, and wanted to do it again,” he explained. “I’ve never held someone the way that I hold you… Marielle. So close that you can feel everything, and for so long that I can’t tell who is who.” She felt her jaw tense, and liquid heat began to move through her veins. “I’ve never read someone’s thoughts,” he said chuckling ironically. “I’ve never had a woman pass through my body. I’ve never shared a fantasy with someone,” he added. He smirked, gently. “I want to explore that, by the way. We had the same fantasy. I want to have one again.”
She looked off; a bit disgusted. “For sex?”
“For everything. That fantasy wasn’t about sex, Marielle. It was about innocence.” He smiled, then licked his lips. “We were children. We were playing. I wanted to kiss you.” He smiled, simply. “There might have been a witch that we had to defeat.” He tucked some hair behind her ear. “That fantasy was about us. Our exploration of possibilities, of letting go, and we both had it,” he explained, excitedly, “at the same time!” She smirked, trying to hide the color filling her face. “Can we try that again?”
She shook her head, cagily, “Maybe someday, not now.”
He sighed, dejectedly. “I want to explore that. I want to understand how we can do that and how far we can push it. I can hear your thoughts- can you show me something you’re looking at, or-?” He grinned wildly, “what are the possibilities?” he bit his bottom lip momentarily. She looked away, watching the fire. “Can you show me something?” he asked. Then he pleaded, “Please.”
She looked down. “What would you like me to show you?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know how any of this works.”
She stood and started to walk away.
At first he was scared that she was leaving, or trying to run away again, but she went behind the bar and glanced over the rows of alcohol. She looked down at one, and then glanced up at him from over the bar.
“Okay, I’m going to look at one, and you tell me which it is.”
He nodded, and closed his eyes, “Show me, darling,” he whispered. He strained, shutting out all thoughts, feelings, and sounds until all that he heard was his own breathing. An image slowly materialized in his head. “St-strega…” he whispered. She put her hands over her mouth in shock. Could be a coincidence. She looked at another one, on the other side. “Wait… Frangelico.”
She backed away; hands still clasped to her mouth. “Y-you can see that?”
He came to her, and looked down at the liquors. Surely enough, they were there. He let out a ragged breath, and turned to her. She was leaning against the back bar, her green eyes wide in terror. “Why is this happening to us?” She breathed. “Do you understand how confusing all of this is?” She covered her face for a moment. “What is happening?” He stood close to her, looking down at her. “I feel cornered,” she said, starting to shake.
“You can go around me, or I’ll move… or you can come into my arms, where I’ll hold you,” he said matter of factly. “Just tell me what you want.”
Her eyes met his -hold me. I’m terrified.
He nodded, and slowly put his arm around the back of her neck, drawing her to him. His fingertips grazed the small of her back and cooled her again. She shivered and held tightly to him. “Why, Austin? Why?” She asked, brushing her face into his chest where his heartbeat was and taking in her favorite scent in the world.
“I have theories,” he whispered.
“Like what?”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, afraid to speak the next words. “You love me?”
“No.” He closed his eyes, wishing that she wouldn’t have clamped down on that so hard, and so quickly, but knowing that because it was so quick, there was hope. Replies that came that quickly were often deflection. He wouldn’t argue it for now, he was just glad that she was in his arms, he gently rocked her.
“You don’t have to be scared,” he said, but he wondered if he was lying as he looked towards the front of the rental, knowing full well that Tundra was out there. More and more he wanted to go out into the darkness and find the bastard. He shook his head; Vincent was keeping watch.
He felt little tears beginning to soak his chest and sleeve, and he squeezed her more tightly, hating her pain. “I’ve never hated someone’s pain so much that I wanted to do anything and everything to stop it,” he continued his list of nevers.
“Never?”
“Never,” he whispered. “I mean, I wanted to take care of Erin, and I did; took care of her when she was sick, drove to the hospital once or twice. But to me those things were duties and always an inconvenience, even if I pretended and acted otherwise. I want to make you happy. I want to take away your pain. I want to comfort you until you’re filled and satisfied. I want to cause you pleasure…”
She smiled softly, enjoying the pleasure he was causing her now. “You do?”
He chuckled humorlessly, “Yes, this used to be about me, and what I wanted. Now it’s about us and what you want.” He took another deep breath in. “And what I want,” he added with a snicker. She grinned, abashedly. He pulled back from her enough to look down into her soggy face. It didn’t take her long to realize that he was slowly leaning down towards her face. “I will find a million more firsts… a million more I’ve never… a million more new… for us,” he was whispering. “I promise.” He was continuing down toward her lips, and she knew that he was going to kiss her. “Stop me,” he pressed. She was frozen, “stop me,” he pleaded. She put her hand between them. He nodded, dejectedly, but accepting. Not ready for that. His safe zones remained hand holding, and holding her. That was okay for now.
“Too confused… too uncertain,” she murmured, holding him close. The fact that she initiated the holding gave him pause, and he breathed her in deeply for a moment, enjoying that faint scent of roses that still lingered on her skin even through the events of the evening. She never had showered, he had, and had also changed.
“You said…” he stammered, “you said on the plane, that we’re having an affair,” he sighed and turned away from her shamefully. “I’ve done that before, I’m not gonna lie to you- I mean I’ve slept with married women. I don’t mean that I did this while I was with Erin.”
“I understood what you meant.”
“Okay… so let’s say that I agree- we’re having an affair; at least an emotional one.” He turned back to her, the back of his thumb back to his lips. There was an uncomfortable pause as their eyes met, “To what end?” he asked. “Why do this?” Her eyes glossed over in thought. “Don’t get me wrong, Marielle, I’m enjoying this, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, right now. I’ve wanted you to touch me the way you did on the plane since I met you; there’s no part of me that wants to stop this.” He paused again, “Okay, there is one…” he took in a deep pull of air and let it out slowly, “Vincent. I don’t like that we are hurting him.”
“Is it avoidable at this point?”
He looked distant, “I don’t know.” He looked down, “I guess not. No matter what road we take here, it’ll still hurt him. Unless we just stop.”
“It’d still be there, though, wouldn’t it?” She asked lifting a brow.
“It would for me.” Both looked at one another with sadness. “And I’ll be honest, I don’t like the ambiguity of where we’re at.”
“Well, all of this might change, soon.”
He tilted his head at her, curiously, “Why?” he asked cautiously.
She traveled back to the couch and sat down in front of the fire. She could hear creaking above head and knew that people were going in and out of seeing Tala. She could hear Kirra crying, and her and Austin exchanged glances, both thinking the same thing… wait a minute, let’s see if she comes to us. She didn’t.
Austin came and sat near her, but not close enough to make her uncomfortable. “Why?” he repeated, and there was genuine concern in his tone.
Her green eyes met his, plainly, “Vincent asked me to go to France with him after this is over.” She swallowed hard, “To marry him… go into hiding. Have a life of our own.”
Austin’s jaw tensed, the chords in his neck becoming taut. He’d lose her, forever. “It’s not what you want,” he insisted.
She shrugged, “Maybe it is.” She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing. Hot and cold both driving her crazy. Searing pain in her back, her skin creating gooseflesh at the very thought of that kind of life.
“It’s not what you want,” he repeated, his tone failing at his attempt to hide the terror gripping him.
Her eyes glittered at him; head throbbing from the fight earlier. She had gotten a good bang from one of those lackeys, and was reminded of it when she touched a spot near her hairline that was developing into a nice bruise. “I hardly know what I want, Austin. Maybe I’ll just stay here,” she sighed. “I mean, at home… Valorant.”
He gently put his fingertips to the forming bruise, and cooled that as well. She felt a little better. He looked off for a moment, and put pinched fingers to his lips. “Well… sadly, if you stay, you’re going to be alone.” That’s when her heart sped up. “They’re calling me away.”
She leaned in a little, concerned. “When? To where?”
“I have to go to Hong Kong at the end of the year.” The firelight danced across his face and blue eyes. “Just after Christmas.”
“For how long, Austin?” Her voice was trembling.
“It’s until, Marielle,” he whispered tenderly, and he tucked some of her hair behind her left ear. Some part of him was exhilarated that she was terrified of losing him. “Until the job is done. Six months, a year… more.”
Marielle hadn’t considered until this moment that he wasn’t going to stay with Valorant, and that he had another job to do that didn’t involve any of them. The only reason that he was here now was because he was technically on loan. A tight heat spread across her chest. “Won’t they put you back on Chamber?”
He shrugged, “They have another guy on him right now-” he looked off, “when he can tail him, anyway.” He flicked his gaze towards the street reminding them both that Chamber was here, and still probably being tailed, but he was nearby at the least.
She couldn’t hide her trembling. “But they will eventually put you back on Chamber, right?”
He shrugged, and pursed his lips, glancing away. “Maybe?” He raked his hair and stood. Screw it, he was going to go for another drink. He poured another shot of whiskey and threw it back, letting the acrid, bitter taste move around his mouth before he spoke the next words. “I want you to come with me.”
Her expression read as are you insane? “Can you… even do that?”
“I can pretty much do whatever I want so long as I’m where they ask me to be. All I have to do is keep a low profile, and my contract says that things like women are to be at my own discretion. It’s dangerous, yes. But, that’s up to me.” He poured a third shot and threw that back, too, his hand shaking.
“Things…” she started to stand, venom in her tone, “like women?” She asked. She wasn’t a thing… and she wasn’t women.
He shouldn’t have said anything. He took a sip, and swished it around his mouth before swallowing… maybe the sharp bitterness would wake him up a bit.
–I panicked at the thought of losing you, Marielle. I should have chosen my words better.
–That’s not even my problem with this right now, Austin. You’re shaking… you’re losing it. You don’t mean any of this.
-That’s not true, I mean all of it.
-But you’re not ready for any of it. He exhaled slowly, and took the bottle with him as he made his way to the piano. “You want to know why I choose Vincent? You want to know why I resist you? Because you’re still miles away from where I would need you to be, Austin Rancor,” she said, flatly. He brushed his fingertips over black and white keys, exhaling as he nodded; becoming distant. He knew that she was right. “Do you understand anything about me in this regard?” She pressed. “I do not put up with cheaters.”
He’d already started playing something, but she wasn’t listening to the melody. “And yet, you are one,” he replied, his tone icy as the arctic.
She angrily came to him, and slammed the lid down over the keys, the piano made a hollow gong sound. “Look at me,” she hissed. He did so, his gaze full of intense annoyance. “This is not my normal mode. I have never done anything like this in my life. You know that none of this is normal. None of these circumstances are normal,” she gestured with a hand upwards, “What- two and a half months ago?- the strangest thing on this planet was that some of us had special abilities.” She put finger quotes around special abilities. He put his face in his hands, and all his hair spilled through his fingers. “Then this man shows up and yes he seduces me, fully. I wanted him from nearly moment one,” she admitted. He looked up at her, his jaw tensed, he fisted his knuckles, and his cheeks burned. “I have a feeling that my double also did,” she explained. “But my double was with yours… and he’s – your double I mean – I don’t even know exactly what he is, but it’s not good.” She was speaking quickly, and again he felt that urge to go out into the darkness, find this bastard and try and slit his throat for him, her, and everyone involved. “And none of this makes any sense.” She shook her head, “Then… then you come into my life- and you’re this…” she wanted to be careful here, but knew that she’d fail miserably, “this total jackass who – you know – would probably screw anything that was even marginally attractive,” she growled. He looked down shamefully, another punch that connected. “And now you want to change and be righteous or whatever it is that you think you’re trying to be-”
He cut her off there, “A good man?” he spoke a little louder than she was. She glared at him. “A good man,” he repeated. Both were silent as he thought quietly, “a good man…” The words were foreign to him, and bitter in his mouth. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, and with the other hand, he took a swig off the bottle of whiskey.
“Easy, tiger,” she growled under her breath. He put it down with a thunk on top of the piano, a little sloshing out. She wiped it up with the end of her sleeve. “You come into my life, Austin… and everything changes,” she explained, her voice trembling. “I no longer know which way is up or down. I’m arguing with myself day and night…” She lifted a finger between them as if to stop him from speaking, when he parted his lips. “Then– then you try and seduce me-”
He cut her off again, “There was never a time when I wasn’t trying to seduce you, Marielle,” he said flatly. “At least plant the seeds, subconsciously…The reasons were just different then than they are now.” He leaned on his knuckles and closed his eyes.
There was a pause, and in it she took the bottle from the top of the piano and took a swig herself. At this, she made a gagging face and looked the front of it over. “Everything changes, Austin,” she continued from where she’d left off, and drank more. “I don’t know what to make of us at all,” she said. “It’s like… right now? I can’t imagine my life without you,” she leaned in, and he was painfully aware of the fact that her leaning on the piano bench into his face made her breasts full and gorgeous, “I don’t want to live life without you,” she admitted.
“What are you saying?”
She dared to brush a bit of jagged hair from his face, and his eyes fluttered close for a moment at her touch. “How… can I build or have a deep relationship with anyone when the deepest, closest, most intimate relationship that I can have is with you?” she growled, her tone a dangerous mixture of need, frustration, and rage at that particular realization.
“Again, what are you saying?” he begged.
“That neither of us are ready for these things.” She pulled back. “I’m not making a single decision for anything until all of this is over and you show me something more.” She put the bottle down and tried to leave. He thrust a hand out and grabbed her wrist, keeping her. She phased, moving through his grip, briefly causing him elation in the process, and eyed him. “No,” she growled. He stood, frustrated and did it again, and again, she phased. “I’m not your toy,” she hissed, knowing that deep inside she was talking to other Austin.
He grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her against his chest, internally begging her to understand him. “And, I’m not Tundra,” he whispered gently as he held her there.
She didn’t try and move on this time, and instead melted against him, giving in, and realizing that Tundra bore the weight of her anger far more than Austin. She was enraged with Tundra, she wanted him dead. “Let’s go kill him,” she growled through hot tears. She pounded his chest with her fists, “I want to kill him, I want him dead!” She growled, then she sobbed, “I want him dead for what he did to Tala, and to me!” She barked.
“Do you want to do it, darling? You and I probably could,” he whispered, gently rocking her.
“Do you believe in me that much?”
“I believe in you more than I believe in myself sometimes,” he said with a soft, adoring smile.
Her heart hurt. Somewhere inside she knew that Vincent did not believe in her this much. Or, if he did, he was so full of the desire to keep her alive, that he wouldn’t allow her to put herself in any kind of risk that he wasn’t in control of.
She growled a little, shaking her head as she thought back to the problem outside. “No, we shouldn’t. It’s reckless.”
He chuckled humorlessly, “Do you know how often I have to be reckless in my job?”
She glared up at him, changing the subject; Tundra now a thousand miles away from her thoughts. “You need to stop pushing me,” she growled. He took a step back. “If I say no, I mean no… stop thinking that just because I have given in before, or because I am thinking yes, that that means that you can do it.”
He sighed, exasperatedly. “If you’re thinking yes, how do I know the difference?”
“Ask me,” she replied, bluntly.
He nodded. “Okay, you’re right,” he said lifting his hands in surrender and letting her go. “I’m sorry, all new territory.”
She nodded, understanding. If her heart said yes, then it was difficult for him to understand why she would really mean no, and things were confusing enough as it was. “I’m trying to learn control,” he added. “I’m just a man. Control is difficult when Helen is leaning against you.”
She rolled her eyes, and put her chin to her shoulder. “Oh, you and your cheesy lines.”
He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at her, “Am I being honest?” he dared. She didn’t need to search his eyes; she knew that he was. “Besides, that wasn’t cheesy, really.”
“Oh? You’ve got more?”
“A dime a dozen,” he replied, dismissively sitting back down to the keyboard, but facing her on the bench with his hands resting slack over his knees. “This is supposed to be a perfect moment,” he chuckled, “but it feels like a fight.” She came to him and stood, nearly sitting on his lap, straddling his knees and he had to remind himself how to breathe.
Both froze when they heard footsteps above, but whoever the two people were, they went to their rooms. The hour was almost up, anyways.
Austin patted his lap twice with both hands, asking her to sit. She felt her face fill with color. He shrugged -Or, ya know- I like this view, too. He simpered. Her eyes widened at him, realizing that his gaze was lined up perfectly with her chest. She swallowed, her cheeks once again deepening in color, and he grinned at her, and patted his knees again as he turned in towards the piano. She looked at him, unsure, but desperately wanting to do it. He saw this and leered up at her as his gaze became deeply serious. Lifting a finger, he pointed sternly to his lap. -You…here…now…
Her heart raced and screamed at this; he knew how to get her, and it was dangerous. But, was he ever delicious.
It worked, and despite the conversation they’d just had, she slowly slipped onto his right knee with her uncovered back to him.
Both sat for a moment, sensing the electricity passing between them and he slowly pulled her hair to the right side, and pushed it over the front of her shoulder, exposing her back and the bright silver that beamed there. Then he put the tips of his fingers on both of her elbows, and pushed them down her arms until they reached her fingertips, where he laced their hands together, squeezed, then let go, and lifted the lid off the keys. He started to play again, as he brushed his lips against her right shoulder blade, and breathed cool air.
She chilled, her searing skin cooling and he planted a gentle kiss on her right shoulder blade. She arched a little at the ache that he caused. He smiled and rested his cheek against her. “I’ve never done this,” he whispered, continuing his list of nevers.
Then he started to sing along with the piano. It was almost a whisper as he played “Another Love,” by Tom Odell.
He continued, breathing cool air against her back.
Occasionally between words he breathed onto her skin, tantalizing her and cooling her at the same time.
The tip of his nose gently rubbed against her flesh, followed by his forehead. Each tender graze burned, and cooled, making her desperately desirous for more, and if she responded a little, little needy sounds escaped his lips between words or breaths.
He did this as he sang until he finished, then they sat in silence for a moment, the yellow and orange glow of the room dancing along with both of their heartbeats.
His forehead rested against her shoulder blade, where his breath tickled and eased her. “This is so romantic,” he breathed against her silvery skin. “I’ve never felt that,” he added to his list, loving the emotions, desire, and passion building inside of him; the way it felt like the firelight, gently lapping at his insides. “Oh, God, Marielle…” he whispered, “if this is a cage… never let me out of it.” She turned to him dreamy and distant and for a moment, their lips lingered near one another. He brushed her hair back tenderly, “What are you doing to me, Marielle, Chaenes?” Her eyes wandered down to his lips.
He swallowed and quickly looked away, killing the moment for that kiss. She understood, he was still unsure about whether he would give it to her or not because he was still unsure about everything. So was she, and she had to admit that she wasn’t certain whether she thought a kiss was too far or not.
He broke the silence with a heartbreaking tone. “If you’re going to go be with Vincent, do it now,” he whispered. “I’ll stay down here for about an hour,” he said distantly, sadness edging his tone. He hung his head, all his dark hair falling into his eyes. “I can’t handle that right now.” She stood away from him, noting the end of their intimate moment, and nodded. “Are we gonna stop this?” he asked after a moment. He was staring at the fire.
She turned, her mouth looking lovely and desirable to him in the golden glow. “We can try,” she replied softly. He scoffed quietly, and looked away. “None of this tomorrow. None of it for as long as possible after that, okay?”
“You hold all of the cards in this game, now,” he whispered, surrendering to her.
She nodded, understanding. “What’s the next boundary that you’re going to put up?”
He sighed, and looked down into his lap, thinking. What came after prostitutes? What was the next big thing. It didn’t take him long to know. “I will never have a one-night stand again.”
She stood by his side and tilted her head at him. “How about you take that one a step further?” She pressed. “Why don’t you insist on having an actual relationship, first?”
He tucked his lips in and closed his eyes, feeling more of himself slip away; and letting that empty space be remade. His teeth grit together as his stomach twisted and he felt entirely empty and knowing that emptiness could be filled if she just came inside of him; like that fire gently lapping at his insides. Reminding himself that he’d made his last promise to never be with a prostitute again regardless of what Marielle did, or didn’t do, he pressed on with this next promise. He held himself around the middle and winced, pinching his eyes shut. “I will.” He whispered. “I promise…” he feared at that moment that he’d gone too far. His stomach began to churn, and anxiety exploded in his chest.
She saw this. It wasn’t an act; he was genuinely trying not to have a panic attack.
She came back to sit with him. If he was going to help her with her burning flesh, she was going to help him with this, it was the least that she could do before she trailed off upstairs where undoubtedly, she’d be intimate with Vincent, killing Austin just a little more.
She faced him on the bench, and drew him against her, just her touch made him tense and calm simultaneously, and he could never understand how that could be. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered.
“Why am I so scared?”
“Because you don’t know who you are without this.” He nodded; she was right. “Here, stand up with me,” she whispered, and she guided him off the bench so they were holding one another again. “Deep breath,” she whispered, and she breathed in deeply with him, and out. Then again; in and out. When he took in the next deep breath, she phased her hand, and pushed it into his, until she found his pulse, strong, and vibrant within him. She grabbed hold of it with everything in her and helped to guide it back to calm.
Once he was breathing smoothly again, he gave her a soft smile, “Thank you,” he whispered.
She nodded. “Thank you for helping me with this,” she gestured to her back with her head.
“When I did this, I had to go through it alone. I would never wish that on someone that I cared about.”
She winced imagining what that must have been like for him, “How did you handle it?”
“I was very drunk for over a week, and I spent long amounts of time in a bathtub full of cold water and ice.” He chuckled humorlessly, “I’m actually surprised I’m still alive. While it’s true I can stand subzero temperatures for long periods of time, I could have drowned, starved, drank myself to death.” He shuddered.
She took in a deep breath, “I’m so sorry, Austin,” she breathed, and she was actually stroking his hair at this point. Her fingertips wandered down over his left ear, and the earring that he still had in; she touched it for a moment. He swallowed and slowly breathed out, loving every caress. -Did you get this for me? Her eyes asked.
-I got it for me. I’d always wanted one… he smiled softly, color appearing in his cheeks. -And for you. he admitted.
She turned their outward conversation back to the snake tattoo. “I had no idea. You could have shared that with me,” she said, tenderly.
He shook his head. “I wasn’t allowed to,” he explained. “Government knows, but I’m meant to keep it a secret from everyone.” She nodded, understanding as her mind moved over all those times that she’d seen him scratch at, or cover his arm.
Their eyes locked. –Come back with me to my room… We can whisper and kiss in front of the fire. I’ll cool you down with my breath and my fingertips all night long. I won’t do anything else. His cheeks reddened, he forced a smile through a wince, and he looked down. -Whoops. She shook her head at him, adoringly. He shrugged, “I just want to be with you. We could just talk.”
“Goodnight, Austin,” she whispered, and she turned and went up the stairs without giving him another look.
He sat back on the piano bench and let out a long, hard sigh. Fiddling in his pocket, he pulled out his wallet, and took out the Queen playing card, setting it next to the space on the piano where the music leaflet would go.
Then he started picking at the keys until another song came out. He only played it, he didn’t sing. Desperado, the Eagles version.
When he was near the end, Kirra wandered into the room, hugging herself around the middle. Her eyes were red, and raw and she looked vulnerable and admittedly in her vulnerability, she looked delicious to him. Her red hair was shining in the firelight, and her green eyes glistened sadly at him. “Can I talk to you?” She asked, in a shaky voice.
He gave her a soft smile and nodded, gesturing to the couches by the fire. He’d sit on one, he made her sit on one of the others.