title: leaves me gasping
summary: a chance encounter in an alleyway. —blackx, drabble.
word count: 809
a/n:
partially inspired by a piece of fan art by mariyand-r on tumblr (linked in my profile).
you guys have probably noticed by now a running theme of my fics being named after songs lyrics (eh, sue me). this one is named after lips like morphine by kill hannah.
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The streetlamp illumination barely stretched to where Red X stood his ground, back parallel to the stained brickwork of the wall behind him. A spilling dumpster to his left, a stack of limp cardboard boxes to his right. It was four o'clock in the morning, the thief fresh from an eventful burglary — gold dripped from his fingers and the xenothium store in his belt was alarmingly bare.
This wouldn't have been much of a problem, were it not for his present company.
Blackfire suspended herself a metre above the ground, hands on her hips and elbows splayed as if to bar as much of his exit from the alleyway as possible. She wore the same expression she always had in previous encounters: that knife-edge smile, the sultry slant of her eyebrows. At this point, to X, it almost seemed fixed — practiced (and he should know). Her indigo eyes darted, magpie-like, between his mask and his stolen goods. "We really must stop meeting like this."
X knew he was in trouble. Still, that was no excuse to lose face. "Isn't that my line, Maleficent?" he quipped, idly handling the five necklaces. "Between that and the dramatic entrance, I'd say you're trying to steal my thunder."
She waved a golden-toned hand. "Please. Your 'thunder' is barely worth the effort." Again, her eyes flickered — mask, jewellery, mask. "Though perhaps something here is."
"What, these old things?" He lifted a necklace as if to study it, the diamond patterning flickering in the low light. "Just trinkets, really. Family heirlooms."
"And whose family would that be?"
"I forgot to ask."
Blackfire's laugh was rich, almost pleasant, but more importantly unexpected; Her Highness had never deigned to acknowledge his flippant remarks with feedback before. She drifted towards the ground, her metal soles touching down. X remained static during her lazy approach, dimly aware that she'd left him an opening to slip past and disappear, somehow failing to feel the urgency to capitalise upon it. Her arms were now loose at her sides. There was something different about her smile now, subtly so, and it took X a moment to place his finger on it. Had it become genuine?
She was close now. Too close, directly before him. She could reach forward and splinter his arm before X could register it. He knew he was in trouble, logically.
(So why didn't he feel cornered…?)
Blackfire tapped her chin, appraising. "Hm. You know, you're rather talented. For a human."
Was that her hand at his neck? "Should I take that as a compliment?"
"I would." Her varnished nails pried at the bottom of his mask — exposing his chin, mouth, nose, and the thief froze. Crap. He'd seen this coming. Why hadn't he stopped her? Yet her exploration halted there, fingers lingering at his jaw. "We might make a good…team."
X opened his mouth to respond — with what, he hadn't decided, something, anything — yet he never had the chance. With a sharp tug, her mouth was on his and all coherent thought and witty retort scattered in his astonishment. His eyes widened behind the mask and locked onto hers, which remained open, sparkling, deliberate; then her lips started moving and his eyes slipped closed, hands at her waist, her mouth guiding his. Blackberry lip gloss and coffee. His breath snatched.
Her back found the wall. Blackfire put a hand to the back of his head and led him down to her jaw. X went willingly, hand pressing her dark hair against the back of her neck as his tongue grazed her carotid pulse point; Blackfire's eyelids fluttered, sharp gaze losing focus, clutching at the material on his chest and emitting a low hum from her throat. Her skin was warm, warmer than any human's, burning him.
He shouldn't be doing this. This was dangerous. This was…this was…
God, he didn't care.
When Blackfire pulled away — no, slipped away, his hands still clutching at air — his breathing was ragged and his cheeks flushed. So were hers, though she'd managed to school her expression back into one of regal arrogance. In a moment she'd propelled herself into the air once more, out of reach, not quite succeeding in disguising the triumph in her eyes. Her left hand was closed around something.
"Like I said, Red. We'd make a good team." With a flick of her hair, she turned her back to him. "Think about it."
His mind was slow to recover; by the time it had, she was gone. Blinking rapidly — attempting to process exactly what had just happened — X glanced down at the stolen goods in his hand. Three necklaces. He inhaled sharply.
Oh, he was in trouble.
He was in so, so much trouble.
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a/n:
note to the "grant wilson anon", before you decide to post a review to this story: yes, i get it by now. you like the grant wilson theory and know how to copy and paste from wikis. please stop sending the same thing in response to every single red x story i post. it's become incredibly irritating and i don't want to keep deleting your reviews.
(constructive criticism, on the other hand, it always welcome in the review box!)