Just a one-shot from Jules' perspective throughout the events in Personal Effects, which was FANTASTIC may I add. Okay, I'm done, enjoy.
You see it in his eyes when he shuts the apartment door behind you and gives you the stare of a lifetime as he slowly steps in closer.
This is how he wanted it. He wanted you to be the one to trail him home—not the other way around. He liked seeing you in this state of paranoia, no matter how much it hurt him to see you in this way.
He steps within inches of your body.
"So…" Is all you hear him whisper to you, following some rambling about how you were right—a statement at which you can only nod in return to.
Your creative mind sets in as you open your mouth, "So…", you choke and realize that you only repeated what he said before. Though, it doesn't matter at this moment.
He takes control—he leans into you and begins to smother you with rough kisses and tugging of your clothes. It reminds you of the times you'd show up at his door in the past and he'd immediately remind you as to who owned this place, and you could only repay him in the same way on the nights he'd appear on your front step.
There was something about him being in control that seemed to always turn him on in even just the slightest bit. Being the one to take the lead, being the one to lift you off your feet—He let you know who was in charge.
Your cardigan begins to slide down your shoulders, and his hands begin to shift up and down your legs—Well, all of course until his sister blasts into the doorway, sending you running down the hall in pure embarrassment, him calling your name as you race down the stairs.
It's late when the hectic day comes to an end. He's explained to you his forgiveness for the earlier afternoon's events, and offers you to follow him for a drink, which you rightfully decline.
It isn't until around midnight when you finally get into your car and head away from work—your job that you had placed on the line each time you took at look at him—and when you realize you're turning into the parking lot of his apartment building, and see him pulling into a spot right in front of you that it hits reality as to where you truly belong.
He takes a long look at you before grabbing your hand—which you had rejected in earlier hours—and drags you up the stairs with him.
The door to his apartment creaks open and he calls out to see if his sister was back—praying to not have to relive the earlier show you put on.
Silence is the only reply returned and the two of you head in—not exactly sure of what to expect. The long, pure traumatic day had gotten to your heads—it was only a matter of time before you did something terribly stupid.
You find the note she left behind, "I guess we scared her away." Is all you manage to send off as a joke. The note falls back to the table and his firm grip takes hold on your arm.
"You sure about this?" His voice is gentler than normal. He's giving in—He's letting you take the reins and tell him what's right and wrong.
"There's no place I'd rather be." You shoot back at him with a similar statement of what he had made earlier. It throws him off and you know it. You're now back in charge.
He takes a moment to look at you before closing the inches and kissing you twice. Though, not the equivalent of the earlier afternoon craziness, these kisses were soft and truly meant something.
He takes your hands and waits for your body language to agree to it before leading you off to his bedroom.
It may have taken some time and doing—but you've now got him in the palm of your hands. It sure is nice to be in control sometimes.
Don't even ask where this came from, because I still ain't got a clue.
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