If Things Were Different
"Why were you in prison?" I ask softly, not sure I want the answer.
He pauses for a brief second and the silence hangs heavily in the air. His eyes search mine, dark with a burning intensity.
"I enjoy hurting people."
My heart lurches in my chest and my stomach twists as the music comes back on, loud and blaring - and annoying as hell. Rudy's face twitches with anger slightly and he raises a hand, index finger pointed in a way that silently says 'one second' - and I watch as he stands and stalks out.
I jump as he slams the door hand against the wall. My pulse races as I struggle to control my quickly shifting emotions. One minute I can feel myself being lulled into a sense of comfort and warmth and the next I feel frightened for my life.
This third Rudy is unlike the other two in more ways than I can count. It feels good to let my secrets go, to talk to someone - but I feel out of place since his statement. He enjoys hurting people. Why doesn't that scare me as much as it should?
The music cuts off suddenly and I turn around and kneel on the leather of the seat. I look through the window to find him just behind the speakers. I can't see him in full - but I can see his fist flying backwards and forwards.
I quickly use my x-ray vision to see through the speakers. I find the man in charge of all the music and setting everything up on the ground beneath Rudy - and Rudy just keeps hitting him and hitting him, again and again.
I don't know what to do - but I can't just sit by and watch, not when it looks like he's not going to stop.
So I don't think, I just act. I run out, my breath huffing out of my as I feel sick, twisted at my core. I reach him and call out his name, grabbing a fistful of the material of his jumpsuit. I jerk him backwards slightly and he whirls around, fist raised as if to hit me too.
But his eyes search mine, his skin flushed a dark read.. I swallow hard, my eyes wide and fearful as his hand slowly unfurls. He reaches his hand forward and his fingertips skim across my cheek ever so slowly.
The soft touch makes me breath shudder out of my mouth. I wouldn't say he calms instantly but the pshycotic glint vanishes from his eyes.
He whirls around and moves towards where the music is changed. I glance quickly over to where the man is lying on the ground and although it's dark, I can see the slight rise and fall of his chest.
The soft music returns, filling the hall. I turn to quickly see if all the doors are closed - for some reason I feel like they might be locked. I feel trapped, my pulse thrumming.
His hands suddenly rest on my shoulders and I turn around slowly. He holds out his hands to me and I hesitate, before placing mine into his. Mine tremble slightly as his curl around them. I'm surprised at how warm they are. And strong too.
He pulls me close, slowly and carefully - as if worried that if he makes a fast move, he'll scare me off. He raises are hands and he slowly weaves his fingers through mine, his other hand coming up to rest at the back of my head.
My face presses against his chest and I can feel his heart beat. It's slow and heavy and I close my eyes momentarily. It feels good. Wonderful. To be held like this, so close and warm - when was the last time I was held like this?
I let out a shuddering breath as his finger tips stroke back and forth across my cheek. The tiny touch sends shivers trickling down my spine and I inhale slowly, my breathing coming out soft and weak.
"What do you want with me?" I ask, frustrated with how many times I've asked him.
"Right now, all I want is a kiss," he replies softly, his voice warm.
My pulse picks up again. I don't know if I want him to kiss me. I don't know how I feel. All sorts. Out of place. This is crazy.
I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. I close my eyes and as the emotions threaten to overwhelm me, I feel the sudden need to sob my heart out. I squelch it, not wanting to cry, not now.
"Would you, eh, mind if I kissed you?" He asks, his lips near my forehead as he leans his head against mine.
I open my mouth and it takes a few tries to get the words to come out. "I don't know."
He pulls back and tilts his head down slightly as I tilt mine upward. His lips are an inch from mine and his warm breath fans over my lips.
"If you don't want me to, I won't."
I hesitate, but only for a second. I reach up to rest a hand on his cheek. My fingers tremble slightly but the warmth of his skin is beautiful. I lean up and press my lips to his.
At first his lips are soft, ever so careful and brilliantly warm. I keep my eyes firmly shut as every nerve in my body tingles with fire that threads my veins. I place my hands on his chest and unbutton the top and and reach my hands inside so that I can press my hands to the skin of his neck and chest.
A moment passes and suddenly the kiss is a lot more. Burning and brimming with intensity as a possessiveness takes over the kiss. His hands are on me, his arms around me - his mouth hot and wet against mine.
This is it. Everything I've been needing, craving. It's brilliantly perfect.
My last kiss. The kiss I had with... him. It was nothing like this. This is beautiful and wonderful - and my skin is alive with fire. It scalds me to the core and I cling to him tightly, wanting nothing but him, just his lips, his touch...
I pull back with a small gasp and a slight smile takes over his face and the warmth and familiar intensity of his eyes makes everything just... fucking perfect.