|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Jun 15, 2011 11:36 pm
Robert was still scratching his head as the group headed back to their dorms. He stopped in front of his dorm, made a real intense expression of confusion, and then turned around again.
Then he turned around AGAIN and stared at his door some more.
A third spin had him looking down the hall, his face still tight with absolute loss of understanding.
"So.. wait. So that was all a fake-out?" He muttered to his neighbor, before she could head into her own dorm room and slam the door in his face. His hand scratched deep in his dark hair, and he chewed on his lip in frustration.
"The ******** have we gotten ourselves into, sunshine?" He gave Petra a deep pout, trying (with no subtlety) to look as sheepish as possible as he closed in on her. When he arrived at her door, however, the pout, and the act, disappeared.
"So, can we talk now? Please?" He whispered quietly, ducking his head to meet her ear and keeping a cautious eye down the hall for any stragglers who might have been nosily watching.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 12:00 am
"It would seem so," came a low, monotone response, one that would have sounded almost annoyed, had it been coming from someone who didn't talk like that a good portion of the time. And considering that they had just been essentially trolled, for a second time in the last couple days or so, it might not have been an invalid response. In this instance, however, this wasn't the case -- if anything, Petra Walker looked more tired than anything, the long-since-dried mud spattered on her clothing lending itself to this appearance, bandages still wrapped around her arm and thigh, her black hair a little tousled from what could have easily been construed as an epic battle. Except that there were no wounds beneath the bandages.
It was going to be a long lifetime at Deux Ex Machina. If they survived Deux at all.
Petra continued down the hallway even when Robert paused to look around, only waiting when he got a little too far out of range for comfort (whether his or her own, it was impossible to say,) and glancing over her shoulder to watch him with what could have been construed as patience. Only when he had caught up and was almost walking next to her did she continue, mostly in silence, her ocean-blue eyes every once in a while glancing at the silver numbering on the doors, looking for her own. She didn't mention that she still believed, with her very soul, that it wasn't what have we gotten ourselves into, but what had she gotten them into. Whether or not this was true was up for debate -- as with all stories, theirs had been warped and convoluted by their own distorted memories, emotion getting in the way of a clear picture of what had happened. Two sides to every coin, so different yet exactly the same.
Finally, she stopped in front of one of the numbers, facing the door and glancing over at the one next to it idly before reaching into her pocket where she'd put the key they'd given her, already starting towards her dorm even as he leaned down. She could feel his breath against her ear, tingling a little against her skin pleasantly, familiarly, his hair mingling with her own when he leaned down -- it gave her reason to pause, and she did so, though only for half a second. "What is there to talk about?" she replied after a moment, not looking back at him over her shoulder this time. Looking at Robert was a mistake -- he had a way of charming even the coldest of hearts. Herself, case and point. Turning the key in the lock to her door, she pushed it open with her palm to let it swing open, stepping inside in an almost dismissive action. Almost, because she left the door open.
If he mentioned Roberta, God help him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Interesting Conversationalist
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 12:13 am
Her attitude wasn't very reassuring. All things considered, he hadn't expected to feel reassured by it - but it stung nonetheless. It wasn't as if he didn't deserve every cold brush, every steely-eyed glare. He did. But it never stopped him from wanting back what he'd lost.
It'd never stop him from wanting her back.
He winced, because he had expected the door to slam in his face. Even his hand had twitched upward, to try and stop it - or perhaps to protect his face from the hard frame slamming into his nose. Either way, it never made it far, because the door had not so much as budged once it was opened.
His twitchy hand rose up around the back of his neck, thick fingers rubbing thicker muscle in an attempt to look like he hadn't been expecting the worst.
Then he walked in with a confidence that made it seem like he owned the place, and shut the door behind him.
"Okay." He blurted out, pacing the room as soon as he was in it. "Okay. I get it. You know I do. You hate me. You wish I wasn't the scummiest boyfriend in the world. You wish I was.. better. I really, truly ******** get it, Petra."
He stopped his pacing, and turned to her, his hands laid palm-upward. "I wish I was better, too. You deserve it. But we have a serious problem here, okay? This-" His hand flew up in the air, waving around like a madman. "-Whatever the ******** we've gotten ourselves into here, this is permanent. This is you, and me, and a whole shitload of ********. And I'll be damned if I'm going to spend the rest of my life, sleeping right next door to the woman I love, and never get to touch her again."
His footsteps fell hard against the paneled flooring as he closed the distance between them suddenly, and without warning. His arms were around her before she could inhale another breath.
"So I am begging you." He whispered, sliding down so that he was on his knees, with his arms wrapped around her lower body instead. "Please, baby. Tell me what I have to do to start over with you."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 12:52 am
If she had caught his slip-up with the door, she didn't make mention of it, or really even look at him as she walked into the room, instead focusing on the bland, white-walled room that would be her living quarters for... well, for however long she survived this. So far, it was hard to say how long that was going to be -- between pods and Insanity (had that been what Caelius had been eluding to?) they hadn't even been remotely close to any danger. But that could just be because they were trainees. He had also mentioned they'd been approved for their weapons ceremony. Whatever that meant. Except weapons meant fighting, so who the hell knew anymore. Approaching the desk, she lifted her hand as if to run her palm over the surface, hesitating at the last minute and merely pulling open one of the drawers just as Robert began talking again. The drawer still open, she finally looked over her shoulder at him again, her eyes flicking to the door as if trying to decide whether to close it before she shut the drawer and turned around, walking past him to close the door with a gentle 'click,' turning around again in the same motion.
"I don't hate you," she replied in a tone that was slightly harder than the one she had used before. This one was one of growing annoyance, firm in a way that said 'don't try to tell me otherwise, you won't like how I respond,' and one that she fully expected him to ignore. Out of everyone, he was the only one to have the balls, for the most part. Most others tended to just avoid her, after that. This hardness only seemed more defined the more he talked, his words grabbing her attention enough to warrant her turning around fully to face him, no longer bothering to look for small distractions. In fact, it had crept into her expression now, her eyebrows furrowing into a hard look, chilly in a way that could have given a polar bear frostbite, except when she spoke, her words seemed completely at odds with the emotion, a little jarring. "You don't know what I deserve."
Things were quickly starting to escalate. The tension in the room was growing, whether Robert realized it or not, so much so that if she stood really quietly, she might have felt static electricity along her skin. He'd stopped pacing, whirling towards her so they were face to face, which only seemed to further bristle her, the muscles in her shoulders visibly tensing. His words only made it worse -- her eyes had begun to grow as he spoke, but her expression was not one of surprise, but of fury. They followed him as he suddenly closed the distance between them, and Petra visibly stiffened as he wrapped his arms around her, not because she wanted him to feel her rejecting him, but because if she didn't, she knew she'd lose it. She'd break down and cry, and wrap her arms around him and tell him it was all ok, and that she was sorry for everything and how it was her fault they were here but that it was better because he was here too.
But she didn't. Even if it would have been a better response.
"Don't worry, you won't be sleeping next to the woman you love," she replied, her voice as stony as her names sake, no louder than a hiss, "I am quite confident that if Roberta chose to go with the Hunters at all, she is laying quite comfortably in a coma in one of those pods!"
The words had not even left her lips before she instantly regretted saying it. Immediately, her face turned downward and away from him, covering up that flash of hurt in her expression so that she could smooth it over. He'd said just the right things to hurt her, and she'd said the things she knew would hurt him back. It was such a destructive relationship, ending so many times in fights that were made up just as passionately as they were fought, so that no one could argue that they at least weren't that. But unfortunately, like her words, his had done the damage, her thoughts already wandering. Starting over, truly starting over, had lead her right back to him, like god and destiny were shooting dice with their lives. Petra, you rolled a one -- your boyfriend is in love with your sister. Or... was? Was he even? She didn't even know anymore.
There was a moment of hesitation, but she finally sighed a little, turning back to look down at him where he held her around the waist, his face against her stomach. Lifting her hands to his face, she felt the stubble along his chin with her thumb, expression soft, far softer than it had been since before. "You don't... start over, Bobby. You just mend what you have," she murmured in an undertone, her fingers carding through his hair to brush it out of his eyes in a soothing gesture, as if just to enjoy the feel of it.
Damn him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Interesting Conversationalist
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 1:07 am
There was no monster or shadow that would ever take a beating from Petra Walker, the way Robert's heart was taking it now. Her words felt like tiny, sharp slivers of ice slipping just under the surface of his skin. Too small to pull out, too painful to leave in. He shuddered, just once, before his arms fell limp to his side and he dropped down to sit on his legs.
The name Roberta made him wince, and his hands rose to cling to his face, nails digging in deep. Petra was right - her words did their job. That shaky confidence he'd managed to hastily gather up and stride into this room with was shattered like a kicked in mirror.
Had she not mentioned Roberta, Robert would have taken the feel of her fingers brushing against his hair as a sign of encouragement. He would have enjoyed the soft touch, the skittering electricity against his skin. Now, he barely acknowledged it. Just as he was always prone to do, he retreated inward, pulled in by some gravitational force of nature that his broken heart was exuding like a black hole.
"But I can't." A scared, immature voice piped up. Robert's baritone had dissolved into a higher pitched tone of shakiness, which was the only indication he was crying. His hands hid his face well.
"I just want to start over. Why can't I start over, Pet? Why can't I just-" His words cut off in a choking sound. "-Just be a whole new man?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 1:45 am
She tried so hard to be angry with him. She wanted so badly to be angry with him. She'd wanted to hurt him like he'd hurt her, knowing she would never be good enough, not for any tangible reason but because she hadn't been there first, and therefore was always second best. And she'd succeeded -- she could see him break in front of her, his expression shattering as if she'd just smashed something delicate with her mace, but it did not bring with it any sort of satisfaction that she so desperately wanted. It hadn't even leveled the playing field -- it hurt her more than anything to watch him drop drop his arms, crushed beneath her own heel. As the weight of his arms left her waist, her own fingers paused in his hair, for once visibly fumbling, not knowing what to do. Lifting her hands, she just stared at him for a long moment, holding them away from him as if mimicking his own
She slapped him, hard, across the face with her open palm.
"Just... just shut up."
Her voice was shaking a bit, although whether from anger or being near tears, it was hard to tell. "Why do you have to be so... so perfect all the time? Why can't you be angry like any other selfish a*****e would be?" If you were angry, it wouldn't hurt so much. You never had to be a whole new man -- it was me who changed completely. We started over, and I was the one who tried to be better.
Although it was the wrong decision, Petra took a step back at this point, her fingers curling into fists by her chest. She didn't know what to do with them -- she didn't know what to do with any of it. At first it looked like she might run, continuing to back up until she hit the dresser with a soft 'thunk,' only then stopping. As if it were a catalyst, the dark haired girl shut her eyes, reaching up to cover them out of frustration.
"Why can't you just be angry so I can hate you?"
Unbidden, a line from some sappy movie they had once watched popped into her head.
I hate the way you talk to me. And the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick-- it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh -- even worse when you make me cry. I hate it that you're not around, and the fact that you didnt call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you - - not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Interesting Conversationalist
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 2:05 am
The slap had him lean to the side, and both of his hands dropped down to the floor on his right side to keep him from falling. His hair shifted in movement a moment after the rest of him, the long strands tossed an inch farther than his face was and then shifting back into place a moment later. A stunned moment passed, before he moved back to sitting on his legs, with one hand cupping the reddened cheek.
Petra never pulled her punches.
He felt like this spot, on the floor, crumpled and defeated, was where he belonged. He watched her from this spot, this deserved torturous hellish spot that felt a million miles away from her, until her words hit him as hard as the slap had.
"Angry?" He spat out, with just a little too much force. It rose him suddenly to his feet, clomping to stand in front of her again, and pinning her against the dresser. His hands rested behind her, on the wood, and clenched dangerously hard.
"ANGRY?!" Well he sure sounded angry. "I AM angry!" And so he was. "Why do you think I'm here? Don't you get it? The only person I'm angry at right now is MYSELF."
His hand reached up and cupped her face, a little harder than he meant it. He lifted her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes. They were wet, and alive with fury and passion. "I can't let you hate me, Pet. I CAN'T. If things were different, and we were back at home, maybe- maybe then I would just let you. I'd stay out of your way, and I'd let you forget me, and I'd live with the pain of losing the only thing worth a s**t in my life. I'd live with it, for you."
His eyes flickered to her lips, just for a moment, but they were back on her eyes before he could breathe again. "But things are different now. I can't go by what's fair anymore. I can't let you hate me, Pet, because I'm in love with you. I'm always going to be in love with you, and I'm always going to be right here, every day, waiting for you to let me love you. If that takes the rest of our lives, then our lives are gonna ******** suck."
His fingers loosened around her chin, brushing against the skin. He knew the feel of her, it was ingrained in his memory. Every inch. "But I can't give up now. I'll never give up on you again. I'm in love with you, Petra. And you'd better get used to hearing me say it, because I'm gonna be right there-" He pointed at their adjacent wall, "-Repeating it until you let me back in."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 2:43 am
He was completely lost to her, and Petra had no idea how to get him back. Except that wasn't true -- she knew exactly the right words to say to make everything better, knew so well that a smile and kiss and sweet words would make everything better. She could imagine it now, how it would happen, how good it would feel, and in her minds eye it was so sweet and so exactly what she wanted she almost cried just out of the frustration of not being able to do what would make everything better. Anything but that, she could be cold and heartless and could resort to physically hitting him, doing all the wrong things to try to make it better somehow. But he would always react the same -- he crumpled visibly right in front of her, broken far more from her lack of empathy than from the physical abuse, but it was the combination of both that crushed her as well, ten times worse.
Sagging a little against the desk, Petra placed her palm against the wood to support herself a little, her free hand still covering her face a little in shame and frustration and misery, so much so she didn't even notice as Robert got up. The anger in his voice had registered too slow, and by the time her hand had dropped to look over at him, he had already crossed the room, looming over her in a way that oozed strength and power. Jerking back a little in surprise, she leaned backward over the desk a bit, staring up at him, for the second time that day looking fearful, although this time it was not because of a monster that should have never been real. She was afraid, not because she thought he was going to hurt her, but because she was afraid she might have pushed him too far. The hand against her chin was met by no resistance, pulling her head up a little to look at him full on.
'I'd stay out of your way, and I'd let you forget me, and I'd live with the pain of losing the only thing worth a s**t in my life. I'd live with it, for you.'
She stayed quiet, not trying to respond in the short time he had paused -- she wouldn't have known what to say. He was so... charismatic, even now as he half yelled at her, angry because she'd made him show it, perhaps even more so because of the passion in his voice. He said everything, not holding anything back, while she held everything back -- how could she compete with that? Even as he finished, she didn't even look at the wall he pointed at, still silently focused on him, until the seconds after his speech turned into stifling silence, like a deer in the headlights. Then, only then did she speak up, in an infinitely softer voice, barely above a whisper.
"I couldn't ever forget you."
And there she was, on the verge of saying everything she had told herself she wouldn't say, tears she had refused to acknowledge starting to collect in her lashes. Throwing her arms around his neck, she half clung to him in a way she might have before, for once not half-assed about whether she wanted him there or not.
"I'm sorry you had to give up Juilliard for me," she added, the sentence half broken with what sounded like little gasps of air that sounded suspiciously like the beginnings of sobs, one of those sentences that had nothing to do with the conversation.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Interesting Conversationalist
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 2:57 am
Robert froze for a moment when Petra's arms wrapped around his neck. He didn't know what he was expecting, though strangling him wasn't completely out of the question. The moment of surprise passed, and Robert took her arms, and her words, in a victorious clench of acceptance. His chest rose and fell in a harsh, deep breath. It felt like he hadn't really been able to breathe since the moment he woke up in that pod, and her arms had finally given his lungs the strength to take that first, long inhale of breath. He felt it fill him, and his exhale only came when he pulled her into his arms and crushed her body against him.
From then on, he couldn't stop breathing. His breaths were coming quick, and ragged with over-excitement. His head curled under her neck, and his lips had just barely begun to press greedily into her skin, when everything just.. stopped.
And once again, he was back to that feeling. That terrible, clenched feeling where he couldn't fully breathe. He hated that feeling, but he hated the words she'd said even more.
Still, he stayed exactly where he was, making no movement, and spoke in a tense voice. The words were brushed against her neck, as his lips still moved there - but now, only to speak.
"How did you find out?" He whispered.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 3:20 am
For a few, wonderful moments, everything was right. For once since the hellish trial by fire, she felt happy and content, like maybe everything would work out for the better and it wouldn't be torture getting up every morning to short-circuit social contact and emotion. Everything that she'd had came back in that moment, in the feeling of his heartbeat, his chest rising and falling against her own, warm in all the ways she couldn't ever seem to be, and how sleeping next to him was the place she always wanted to be, never wanting to get up. But it was short lived. The sensation was fleeting, barely getting a taste of his breath against her neck before she felt him tense, his voice echoing what his body was screaming.
It was apparently the wrong thing to say. He didn't drop his arms, but already she was pulling hers back, flinching a little even before she could catch herself. She realized her mistake immediately -- why wouldn't he be upset? He gave up his future in order for her to throw both of their lives away. As soon as her hands fell, she was already turning away, back to the steely cool-ness of before -- her eyes lifted blankly to the mattress a few steps away, her body starting to move to it. "Did you think they would let full-scholarship student disappear without checking up on them?" she asked with no real inflection, almost sounding rhetorical. Still, it seemed she couldn't resist flicking her chin over her shoulder to half glance at him, sadistically.
"They continued to send you mail when you didn't show up. I guess they hoped next year you'd reapply."
|
|
|
|
|
|
Interesting Conversationalist
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 3:29 am
Petra was pulling away, and it was no surprise. Robert's arms were locked down around her, however, and try as she might, he wasn't going to let her get away this time.
The revelation that she knew, perhaps the entire time.. it hurt. It hurt, and the pain was visible on his face. His arms may not have let her go, but his eyes were unfocused, lost in thought.
"How long have you.."
No.
Suddenly the arms around her tightened, and pulled her off of her feet. He slid one hand deep into her hair, holding her head in the palm of his hand as he focused his penetrating gaze on her one more time.
"I don't think you're listening." Robert growled, the deep baritone vibrating back into his voice. "Right now. It's you, and me, and this place. There's no more Juilliard, baby. There's no more-" His eyes glimmered for a moment, threatening to spill forbidden tears, but he wouldn't allow it. "-No more of anything between us. It's you, and me, and this."
His head dipped down, and his hand kept her head steady so she couldn't pull away.
It felt like drinking a cold glass of water after a week in the desert.
His lips were relentless, bearing down on her with a kiss so desperate, it almost hurt. They traveled down her chin, along her neck, and then finally, finally he lifted his head and let it hang back, trying to suck in a staggering breath. When it slowly lolled back into position, there were no more tears in his eyes. There was nothing left but a burning, passionate intensity.
"Now." He bent in and whispered fierce against her lips. "Are you going to let me love you, or not."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 6:51 pm
Oh god, make it stop. Petra's gaze snapped back to the well-built boy as he held on tightly to her, eyes flicking from where his arms were still wrapped possessively around her smaller athletic frame back up to his face, so contorted with pain. His entire body exuded the betrayal she knew he felt, but it was nothing compared to his eyes, all the passion suddenly stolen from them, leaving behind a hollow shell. Not for the first time that night, she regretted saying anything at all, the knowledge that they had been so close, happy for that brief little instance, where everything had been perfect before she had ******** it up again. It was like she couldn't let herself be happy... they couldn't let themselves be happy, their lives forever tangled in a web. She would rather face a swarm of the shadow creatures than be where she was now, forever the reason for his misery. In her palm, she held the key to his happiness and the key to his desolation, and she hated it. She'd give it all back, that power over him, but for the fact that it would only make things worse.
There came no response with that half-asked question, his voice trailing off mid-sentence, her own not lifting to offer any assistance. She had looked away, now, letting her eyes drift, just so she didn't have to look at how hurt he was, although she could see it just as painfully in her mind's eye. There would likely be many nights where she'd see it too -- it wasn't going to go away easily. It was this that actually made the tightened grip all the more surprising to her, and she reached up go fist the front of his shirt as he did so, as if to prove her attentiveness. And although the feeling of his lips against her own caught her equally by surprise, her body knew what to do in that instance -- instinctively, Petra tilted her head up to press up against it, squeezing his shoulders tighter as if to try to match his fervency, even after he pulled away. There were the remnants of tears in her eyes as he continued to kiss down her neck, so familiar and comforting, like everything about him, she jeans leaned against him in response, as if her own legs couldn't hold her up.
"You're not going to let me refuse," she replied in an equally low voice, although none of his passion had seeped into her own. Then, as if that answer wasn't good enough, it dropped even lower, barely audible as she ghosted her own lips against his.
"I would let you do anything you ever wanted to me."
|
|
|
|
|
|
Interesting Conversationalist
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 7:36 pm
He'd been so, absolutely, completely sure.
Thoughts and ideas never came quickly to Robert. It took him a while to figure things out, and by the time he managed to do so, it was usually too late to act on them. Rarely, though, when it was really important, he had his little moments of clarity. He wished this wasn't one of them.
His brow furrowed deeply, and he pulled her back an inch, staring deep into those eyes that seemed so far away. He stood there, and stared, for quite a few minutes, with an expression that looked as though he was trying to solve a difficult math problem in his head. Like dividing 1 into 0. It just wasn't adding up.
Then his lower lip jutted out just slightly in a faint pout.
"You don't love me anymore, do you sunshine." He whispered, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice so that it wouldn't affect her answer. His hand left the confines of her hair, and reached around to brush her cheek softly. The skin was red from his roughness, and he laid a feathered touch against the redness, as if it could soothe the pain.
His eyes were following the trail his fingers made across her skin, but they flickered back up to her eyes as they looked for an answer.
Maybe he was too late. Maybe, no matter how much he refused to give up, he had failed to take into account just how much he needed her to do the same.
"I'm sorry." He whispered one last time, as his eyes flickered away again to stare down sightlessly at her shoulder.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 17, 2011 11:20 pm
It was the sweetest thing she had ever seen, Robert trying to figure her out in that moment. His eyes had regained that little spark she so loved about him, staring so fervently, so intensely into her own, as if he were trying to read her very soul. She could see the way his eyes narrowed just slightly, his brows furrowing together as he thought, searching for something she could not identify, but it was his eyes that had become windows for her. He had always been like that -- so unabashedly honest in everything he did, every move he made and every word he said unable to hide who he was. He couldn't lie to her for the world, and it was this, along with his undying passion for life and love, that forever drew her to him like a moth to a flame. Everything he was was just... perfect. He was perfectly flawed. Petra looked at him now, pouting at her, so much of himself poured into even that simple expression, his arms still wrapped tightly, possessively around her, and she tilted her head just slightly against the fingers that ghosted over her cheek.
It made her a little sad. She could not wear her heart on her sleeve the way he did. She could not confess neither love nor sins so easily.
There was a hint of something in her eyes as she listened to him apologize for the fiftieth time, lacing the indecipherable expression she always wore. Slowly, she slid her arms out from where they had been against his chest, untangling her fingers from his shirt to reach up and cup his face in both hands. Despite the frustration seeping out through her own skin, they did not twitch or tighten, a false picture of self control. She didn't know any other way -- her own passion was lost on him, misdirected anger only making things worse. She had to lift herself up on her toes a bit, leaning her weight just slightly against his rock-solid form, but she ever so gently pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Interesting Conversationalist
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jun 18, 2011 1:28 am
Robert's unfocused glare of her shoulder ended when the touch of her hands brought him back to looking at her eyes. His head tilted just a fraction, too scared to move too much. His eyes flickered back and forth from her eyes, to her lips; unable to keep focus on either one, but so desperate for their attention. He swallowed, hard, and his lips parted to say words he'd promised himself he would never say - but those words were crushed underfoot by the touch of her lips against his.
At first, there was nothing. He questioned his own sanity, unable to accept that it was she who'd lifted herself up onto her toes and pressed those achingly soft lips onto his. Maybe the fog was still making him suffer that Insanity bullshit that-
These thoughts took too long to think through, and they were getting in the way of enjoying something he craved for more than food, or sex, or beer. His lips came to life, pulling her kiss out before diving down into it passionately. His tongue had absolutely no restraint, as it set to re-stake it's claim on territories previously owned. His kiss respected no boundaries. She was his, and he was hers, and there was nothing left to think about.
Several minutes later, pure physical need had him coming up for air. He broke away, gasping heavily to catch his breath. It was so easy to forget to breathe, when he lost himself in Petra's kiss. He could probably pass out one day, if he wasn't careful.
Despite the finality of breaking away, his curled arms tightened around her, and hefted her up in a hard lift - his hands cupped underneath her before she could fall down again, and all of a sudden he was holding her in his arms. He took one, two, three steps back, until his boot hit the bed, and then he sat back down on it.
Things would never be the same. He realized he'd been fighting so hard for a second chance, a clean slate, a fresh start. The woman in his arms was the same one he'd hurt, and the same one he needed more than his own life. If this was going to work, a fresh start wasn't the answer anymore.
And he knew, above all, he needed this to work.
"I wanna be with you, Pet." He whispered, his voice quiet as if he was making realizations even as he spoke. "I want you to be mine, I want you to want that. I wanna know if there's any chance you're going to ever want me as badly as I do you. 'Cause if there is, sunshine, I will spend the rest of my life making sure you have everything you want."
And it hit him, like a brick to the side of his head. He'd just said it himself, and it was visible when the lightbulb actually popped on (and possibly exploded) in his head. His eyes glittered, and his eyebrows rose.
"That's it. I wanna be with you for the rest of my life. Whether it's here, or even if we get out of this place one day. I don't care. I seriously don't ******** care. Pet. Petra, I really do want you for the rest of my life."
He sounded like he was having a revelation. There was even a hint of stunned laughter in his voice, but it died away at his next words. These came out solemn and quiet.
"I don't know how this would go in a place like this, or if it's even possible, but.."
He picked her up slowly off of his lap, and set her beside him on the bed. Then he crawled off, dropping down to one knee in front of her, and took both of her hands into his. They disappeared within those big, overworked palms. His eyes turned up to hers, with an expression so exposed, it was heartbreaking. He took a big, long inhale of breath in, and said two words he never expected to get the chance to say.
"Marry me, baby."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
