No one knows where Naoto goes on a Saturday night, or where she is all through Sunday. All they know is where ever she is, whatever she is doing at about five forty three every Saturday she gets up and leaves. And for someone who can run like the wind and be as graceful, who would ever think she could run faster. Like a hurricane, losing its elegance and just determined to meet its destination.
It's always in an abandoned house, or an expensive hotel room, or maybe (if they feel dangerous) some dark alley that no one would dare walk down. Either way, she always receives a letter, without fail, at noon on Saturday saying where he will meet her. She doesn't really know him. Nor does he really know her. But something between them has blossomed and they can't live without that Saturday evening, and the following Sunday.
Tonight it's at a hotel. The key arrived at noon, no letter. Just a key with a tag "Millhouse Hotel Suite 31." Expensive, like his taste in suits, but she liked that he was willing to spend that on her.
Even if he didn't know her.
Even if she didn't know him.
She takes the elevator up to the fifteenth floor where the third floor of suits are. Walking across the expensive carpet, she stops to glance in a mirror and pat down the dress she is wearing. One that Granny Liza let her borrow while her other clothes are being patched and cleaned. Not too frilly, and not too girly, but still pretty. Long and a deep red it fell to her knees with a sexy slit up the side stopping a little higher then midway up her thigh. It made her feel uncomfortable walking around in but knows it will make him go crazy. She likes making him go crazy. Her combat boots were exchanged for more fitting black pumps. And a shawl was thrown at her instead of her tan coat. She felt it fit, expensive looking attire for an expensive hotel.
She didn't bring her sword. She only did the first few times after she met him in that bar.
Because he carried guns. She knew they were a part of him in some way, always harnessed snuggly under his suit's jacket. She knew from the bulge she felt when running her hands over his body, or from the sound they made when they hit the floor. But when she realized he no longer brought them after the first few times, she felt guilty and left her sword at her apartment.
Not that he made her feel completely safe…
But at the same time he did.
He had this way of working under her skin that made her feel safe while in his presence, in his arms, despite knowing that he did some sort of killing for a living.
But then again, so did she.
She patted down her vaguely ruffled hair, nervous in a strange way, before making her way down to the room with number 31 in gold on the front of the door. She usually arrives first. Waits no less than a minute, and he arrives.
Tonight feels different.
She opens the door with the key given to her by her lover and slips in. It's dark except for light illuminating from candles. There are dozens just in the hall. She clicks the door shut and locks it out of habit more than necessity.
Making her way down the lit hall she entered the large bedroom. A king sized bed covered in silk sheets, the large fluffy down blanket folded back to allow easy access. There was a large window on the far wall, overlooking the darkening city with the sun's rays dying behind the horizon, the strange tower in the distance. She glanced to her right and there he was.
Tonight is different.
Leaning against the wall, a plethora of candles illuminating the room, his body… his face. His hands are immediately on her, he's next to her, holding her, kissing her. He smells of blood and gunpowder, and death. There have been only a few times that he arrives in such a state, but still always clean of the tangible substance that he smells of. He doesn't like to arrive with such an odor, as if wishing in some way to make these precious nights sacred and untainted in some way. She began reciprocating this need, never arriving straight from a fight.
His lips are on her ear licking, nipping, biting.
"I missed you… I needed you…." He manages to whisper between his movements. There is a tinge of pain in his voice but it's gone before she could clearly catch it.
The green lenses that rarely leave his face, if ever, gleam in the light as he pulls back and takes her towards the bed. She stops him, pulling his short trimmed blond hair and dragging him back to her lips. The times between meetings are hard and excruciating, living lives separate from each other.
They don't know each other.
But it doesn't stop them from feeling something for the other.
EDITED!!!!
So, sorry for this. I found an inconsistency in the story and fixed it so I lost my original comments down here and such. Anyway, so here is the story.
GiovannixNaoto. I enjoy this pairing thoroughly and I wish there was more of them in a kind of loving way rather than in the sick-gross-weird-not-really-love way. It all started with a picture.
He was a kind of different character to write because he is such a mystery but not completely.... but then again all the characters in this darn series are that way.
Anyway, enjoy, tell me what you think of it.