Passion... it lies in all of us.
Sleeping. Waiting. And though unwanted, unbidden,... it will stir, open its jaws. And howl.
Here she is, gripping the table and grimacing with the blinding pain. She's lying on her stomach and she feels it enter her. It's her decision. Her pain, her body. And she'd paid the price already. She feels the goose bump on her bare legs, the place is cold. But it's not the cold that makes her shiver.
Mac takes a sharp breath and Weevil raises a brow. "You ok ?" She nods fiercely. No she isn't, this is fucking painful, but she wants it bad. He winces, he understands. The first time it hurts. And every time after that the pain is less. He lowers his arm.
The needles shred her smooth skin again, diffusing a little bit more black ink into her back. She clenches her jaws, she so afraid she would shift to the pain and that he would screw up the tat.
His hand is firmly placed on her skin and as painful and uncomfortable at this is, she understands why he'd said it was sexy. She's almost naked after all. But hey, he's a tattooist, he'd seen other stuffs.
Under the table, she's gripping with one hand her large leather bracelet on the other arm. She holding on to it, because it'll soon be over. The pain last so less longer that a tattoo.
When he's done, she just sits back and look at him. He's cleaning his stuff. He applies cream on her wounded skin and she feels better.
They look at each other. Although it is very hard to believe, they are friends, and they sometimes don't need to talk to understand each other. He's standing in front of her, the scars he has, drawing a fine line through one of his eyebrows makes him look even sexier than before. He's out of the biz now, be he can't deny it, he can't be mistaken with a good guy.
And she is here, standing, pulling back her jeans. She's so skinny now. Yet so strong. Like those female gymnasts. Her dark eyes met his, and she grins. "Do you remember when we where happy ?" He stares, thinking for a few second, then answers honestly. "Nope."
She approaches him, sliding a hand around his neck, pulling him to her, and they kiss furiously. Yeah, they are friends, but sometimes they need to feel it. And they know that the other is the only one that won't deceive them. When he slides his arm around her waist to hold her tighter, her shirt hitches up and the tattoo shows. Mostly black, with some blue and red. Tribal shape, aggressive but yet feminine.
She breaks up and slightly smiles before leaving. She'll see him around. Like always.
It speaks to us. Guides us. ..Passion rules us all.
And we obey. What other choice do we have ?
Logan empties one more glass. Passion... is born... And though uninvited, unwelcome, unwanted... like a cancer... it takes root. It festers... it bleeds... it scabs... only to rupture. And he wonders which rupture sent it definitely overboard. He swallows the burning liquid. Was it Lilly's death ? No, it had been painful, but he could still live on a bit. His mother's suicide ? He'd slipped. His dad's murder ? Veronica leaving ? Duncan's death ?
He drinks again and collapses on the couch. He'd been lying there over and over again.
Even his best friend couldn't bear him anymore. Well, he's had issues on his own. He's lost his baby bro and can't seem to forgive himself.
And Veronica, she's still not happy. But she's almost an adult now, and he can't help her, he doesn't have any strength left. Like Dick, like him, like Mac, Veronica's been walking down the darkest path to be in peace. And maybe sometimes she is. He hopes.
Because tonight he will be. With all the chemical that are slowly taking over his body he his sure to soon hold an ex girlfriend, an old friend and his mom in his arms.
He's left a letter. Short. Just to tell Veronica how much he still loves her after all this time. And he's sorry for all his mistakes. And to tell Dick that, yeah, he loved him too, and he's sorry he pushed him away. They were the two best people in his life, he hopes they will be ok. But he can't.
Passion is the source of our finest moments.
The joy of love, the clarity of hatred, and the ecstasy of grief.
Veronica lifts herself on top of him again. She breathing loudly, her cheeks rosy with pleasure and effort. And her back is covered in sweat. It has never been slow between them. But good, absolutely. She let her head fall backward when he grabs the back of her neck and squeezes, thrusting harder.
She can't believe Logan's dead. One more that had left them. Tonight's lasting even longer because she can't be relaxed. She rolls and pulls him on top of her.
She likes it that way, it made her feel trapped and safe at the same time. She slides her hand through his thick hair and pulls him into a bruising kiss. Their teeth clash and he growls.
Dick breaks the kiss and aims for her neck, he bits it hard, with wide open mouth, he runs his teeth on her smooth and offered skin, making her yelp with pain and pleasure. He can't bear how much pleasure he can have just seeing her like that. Every times she moans he thinks he's going to die. So, when she cries out his name. When she yelps. He's just loosing it.
She stretches her neck to offer more skin. He so hungry of her. He is inside her but he wishes it could be more. And he pushes one more time, sucking a bruise in her neck. She scratches his back and he pulls away whit a yelp, thrusting deep. They lock with each other's gaze and he closes his strong hand around her ankle, making her fold her leg.
She grips his shoulders to follows his rhythm. He bends one more time to bite her neck until she opens her mouth and gasps loudly. When she's almost there he rises again and slides her leg he still holds on his shoulder and runs his other hand on her most sensible area.
She's gasping when she meets his looks. "Come with me."
And he breaks, he can't hold on to the the rhythm anymore. He collapses on her warm and shuddering body, filling her. Pain makes it stronger. Love makes it better. They have both.
He rolls on his side and she holds him tight he remains in her for a moment. They stare at each other. They are going to fall asleep like that.
He caresses her shoulder. She's beautiful.
But the spark of innocence in their eyes is long gone.
"I love you."
All they have now is each other.
They exchange a deep and slow kiss.
Even Logan has given up.
It hurts sometimes more than we can bear.
If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace.
But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank.
Without passion, we'd be truly dead.