One-shot: Give In to Me
Brief Description: She had to do it. She couldn't. All she had to do was simply give in.
Author's Note: I was watching Troy (a movie that has way too much Brad Pitt butt-naked scenes) the other day and the scene where Briseis tries to kill Achilles in his sleep inspired me to write this one-shot. Hope y'all enjoy it.
She stood there in the darkness, silent as a fox, her eyes fixated on her target. Silently, she approached her prey, knife in one hand, anticipation in the other. She hesitated for a moment when she noticed it stir slightly in its sleep, hearing her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Breath heavy, hands trembling, she had to do this.
She couldn't do this.
She had to; it was her assignment, her task, her mission.
She shook all thoughts of doubt and conflict out of her head and tiptoed towards the king-sized bed. As gracefully as a swan she made no sound, but the tremor in her shook violently as she continued to watch him snore softly.
I can't do this, she thought, the panic again halting her motions.
No, she had to. It was absolutely mandatory, vital for her to take him out with one quick slit to the throat, according to her employer. She was the one person who could carry out this task flawlessly, the one person who needed to get the job done. She'd entered their target's life, rendering him vulnerable once he fell for the trap, and now this was her chance to seize the opportunity, do what's rightfully done, for the sake of her employer.
She was the most sly, the most skilled, the most deadly hunter ever acquired. She was perfect to perform the mission. She had the craft and sneakiness that could rival that of a ninja's.
I can't do this, she thought again, taking in his form. She had never seen anything so beautiful that could match the sleeping man inches before her. One hand tucked behind his head, he had a long mane of hair that he usually kept in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His tanned complexion seemed to glow under the moonlight, his stubble a five-o-clock shadow. The sheets rested just below his muscular chest so toned and cleanly cut. To her he was a god sent down from the heavens, particularly with the way his hair fanned out like a brown halo and the white sheets hung so loosely from his torso. It was a crime to be sent out to kill such a majestic creature.
But alas, much to her misfortunes, this was what she had to do. A simple slit to the throat and mission accomplished. Yet all she was doing at the moment was delaying the mission that should be done within seconds. She'd been standing there forever, conflicted and torn over her own gut instinct.
Kara bit her lip, eyes darting between his peaceful expression and the dagger in her hand. As much as she should be cold, heartless, and manipulative, she was only human. What she'd done for the past few months, though, screamed anything but humane. She'd toyed with his feelings, made him fall into her trap, made him fall head over heels for her through weeks of flirting, dating, kissing, and romantic affection. She was a vixen and she knew it.
But through all the times they held hands, kissed, went out on dates together, and cuddled in bed, she'd grown on him. In fact, she was instantly smitten with him the moment they met…
Sweat trickling down her forehead, Kara panted as she jogged down the pavement, Halestorm blasting in her ears through the newest Etymotic ER4 MicroPro Series her brother gave her for Christmas. Lead singer Lizzy Hale's vocals got her going; any band that had heavy bass, lots of distortion, and gritty vocals appealed to her taste. Their newest song, Love Bites, was the perfect song to jog to for Kara, for it not only sounded similar to an Avenged Sevenfold song, but it also allowed her to channel all of her emotions into her fast-paced run.
Kara snorted as she reflected upon the disastrous 'date' she had with her now ex-boyfriend a few days back. He'd promised to take her to go see Rock of Ages on Broadway only to realize he stood her up, and later when she took a cab over to his apartment to check on him, she found some busty blonde giving him a blowjob on the couch.
Some boyfriend that Mark was, thought Kara sarcastically, just like the rest of them. I don't think I've ever met any guy who doesn't scream man-whore…
SLAM.
"Ouch! What the fudge was that for?" exclaimed Kara irritably, rubbing her sore head. She swore she'd just crashed into a brick wall.
"Oh my Lord, sorry there, love."
Kara's ears instantly perked up, her heart instantly skipping a beat upon hearing that soothing Scottish accent. It was undeniable that Kara had a weakness for Scottish accents. However, when a large hand grasped hers and pulled her out she swore her ovaries exploded right on the spot.
The Scotsman stood at approximately five inches past six feet, his brooding face warm with stunning blue eyes and the slightest stubble on his chin. His long hair tied back in a ponytail, he gazed down at her with a smile that could instantly make her panties drop in a heartbeat. Big, strong arms, held her against (from what she could already tell from the collision) his rock hard chest, his palm warm against her skin. Instantly, Kara was speechless, in awe at what suddenly dropped out of the sky; it seemed as though God had decided to send her an early birthday present.
"You okay there, love?" again came the Scottish accent that sent tingles down her spine.
"Oh my God…I…I-I-I'm so sorry…" all Kara could do was stutter before the breathtaking man. Goodness, she was horrid. She hadn't known the man for at least a minute and already she could feel a pool between her thighs.
"No need to apologize, love; my fault for not paying attention," insisted the man, brushing the dust off of her arms. Kara bent down to pick up her iPod but accidentally butted heads with the man, who had coincidentally decided to do the same, in the process. This time, however, Kara couldn't help but giggle as the man handed the iPod back to her.
"This feels just like a movie," Kara blurted, rubbing her forehead. It certainly did, bumping into a handsome stranger and sharing a moment with him, feeling butterflies in her stomach and chills in her nerves.
"It certainly does, and to add to that," the man took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, "I'm Drew. Drew Galloway. And may I know your name, love?"
"Kara Winters," she managed to stutter.
"Seeing that I just knocked into you twice, Miss Winters, why don't I make it up to you with lunch?" suggested the very handsome Drew Galloway. Willingly, she said yes and followed him like a lovesick teenager, gushing over everything about him.
The way she and Drew had met that very day was too cliché, too scripted, as though she'd been cast in some romantic comedy. However, she was now in the climax of a romantic thriller similar to that of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, except this time, Drew didn't realize her mission was to assassinate him, quickly and painlessly.
She raised the trembling dagger to his throat, using all sense of control to not drop the knife. At the same time, she fought the urge to place the blade any closer to his skin.
The kisses, the hugs, the cuddles in bed every night flashed before her eyes.
Every time she and Drew were together, he would look at her with unadulterated love in his eyes, a sight that often brought her to tears. She wanted to look into those eyes again, those eyes that worshipped her every being.
She wanted to throw herself into Drew's arms and cry, begging him to get her out of this situation. She didn't want to go in for the kill; she would rather die than have him die first.
She wanted Drew to toss her onto the bed and make love to her over and over again. She wanted to feel his touch, his loving kisses, every single ounce of affection he had for her.
She would never meet a man like Drew after the slit to the throat.
He was the first one to not treat her like a piece of ass. In fact, she recalled once at a bar when a drunk patron called her a 'nice piece of fuck' and Drew beat the daylights out of him. Call her a hopeless romantic, but she loved him because he was a gentleman. He was the first man to open doors, pull out chairs, spoil her with gifts and take her out on romantic dates. He would be the only man to kiss her by the hand and call her his one and only.
And she was getting rid of him.
I'm nothing but a selfish piece of ass. I don't deserve him. Kara slowly edged the blade closer to this throat.
Her grip loosened and slowly she began to pull the knife away from him, tears trickling down her flushed cheeks.
No. I can't do this.
Within a flash, she was flipped over, pinned with her hands above her head, finding herself in the same situation she'd put Drew in, the hand that held her dagger just inches away from her neck.
The Scotsman held the knife to her neck, his eyes poring into hers, leaving her mesmerized and terrified at the same time. Kara wasn't sure what to think, whether to fear for her life or to lose herself in the ocean of Drew's brilliant eyes. Now she was on the end of a predicament; now was the scene where Drew would interrogate her before delivering the finishing blow to her throat.
"Love?" came Drew's soft, husky voice, "what are you doing here?"
I have to do it.
"I…I…" Kara could barely speak, "I…"
"Go ahead," interrupted Drew, pushing the knife to his throat, "do it."
I can't to do it.
"I…"
"You have to do it, don't you, Kara?" Drew questioned her roughly, "it's what you came here for, isn't it?"
I have to. I have to do it.
"Drew…" Kara trembled underneath him. She was losing the battle against her conscience, which begged her not to, reminding her of everything Drew had been for her.
I can't do it.
"Do it, love," repeated Drew, jerking the knife slightly closer to his neck.
I have to do it.
"I can't do this," whispered Kara. A single teardrop trickled down her cheek. She instantly dropped the dagger, letting it slide off the bed. "I can't do this, Drew. I just can't."
"And why can't you, love?" Drew tested her. He was unsure if she really couldn't do it or whether she was simply toying with him.
"I can't kill the man I love."
That was all it took for Drew to completely disregard everything that had just happened and capture her lips in a passionate kiss. Kara moaned upon feeling his soft lips against hers, and when his tongue swept across her bottom lip, begging for entrance, she willingly opened up to him. It didn't take long before his hands slipped underneath her clothes, leaving a trail of fire on her skin. No sooner had Drew stripped Kara of her clothing, worshipping her body with his touches and kisses.
As she got caught up in the heat of the moment, Kara refused to allow herself to think twice. She loved Drew more than anything in the world; not even her job could control her feelings for the sole man who made her feel alive. She didn't care about the bounty, nor did she give a damn that she was supposed to kill him. She hadn't experienced anything like this before, and she simply gave in, allowing Drew to love her like he always had.
*I will let your imagination run wild from here on!*