A/N- hi guys :) so I am in an exceptionally good mood today, because I just got back from a HUGE track meet (states finals)! I made it to nationals, they're happening next Tuesday in New York! I'll be doing hurdles, high jump, relay, and the 200. I'm so excited! so, in honor of this wonderful event, I have churned up a bade fic to a song…and then I spewed out this fic onto the interweb. this isn't exactly a songfic, I was just inspired after listening to a song... and whoever reviews and guesses the song first can tell me a fic they want to read and I will do my best :) enjoy, r&r :D
she paints her fingers with a close precision. a deep, brilliant red. bathing her hands in his blood.
the world swims. he comes to be, eyesight hazy.
she grins. her lips match her hands. he starts to notice empty bottles of gin.
in the back of his head, she's still that fascinating stranger from across the bar.
it's changed, he tells himself, just look at those dainty fingers.
his mind is filled with bloodcurdling shrieks and knives slashing through his torso. he remembers.
sinful woman, he hisses; her white-toothed grin grows wider. the makeup around her once-innocent eyes runs down the side of her face, stains her flawless pale skin.
you've paid for my sins, she whispers, slithering across the dimly-lit basement. the floor is cement, jagged pieces of rock protrude at points. her stockings catch on one, rip. he hears it and looks down.
black.
black stockings. black like her heart.
she rises from the ground, leaning deliberately low and close to him. he catches a deeper glimpse of her chest, knows it was her intention.
his mind is filled with unwanted lust for the woman with no soul.
her knee is dripping something warm onto his pants leg. he knows what it is, yet wishes he didn't.
she's standing close enough for him to see that the onyx dress she wears is tattered.
he looks the only place there is to look.
down.
suddenly she's behind him, too close to him for his liking; her breath is tinged with cigarette smoke.
the chair he's tied to seems too small all of a sudden. the world spins again, his mind is clouded with red lips and black dresses and white skin against his.
her eyes are grey.
he looks away.
she's slowly telling him her deepest, darkest, foulest sins. he listens silently, willing himself to disappear away from this stranger as he squeezes his eyelids shut.
who are you, she asks at last; he says nothing. a lonely speaker in a conversation that once existed.
her words swim through his ears, his head aches.
you want to know, she tells him quietly, a sly smile threatening to appear on her porcelain face.
there's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you've paid for…
he shouts something incoherent, eyes still shut tightly.
say what you mean, she purrs, tell me i'm right…you want me and my sins, the sins you dearly paid for…
he wants then, more than anything, the sun.
the dark overwhelms him.
he comes about soon enough; she stands over him with a small smirk playing on her lips, oh, those fatal lips that brought him into this mess in the first place…
you want me to love you, she murmurs against his neck, his pants seem to tighten considerably.
he wants to believe her. she cocks her head and takes his head in her cold hands.
he wants to see her frown.
once. just once.
he tells her.
her smile grows. i call the shots, dear, she says softly, and continues to caress his face.
i want to go, he tells her.
her eyes grow cold, legs wrap around his waist.
he's still in the chair.
he senses something shift in the air, call it desperation.
no, she says urgently, never, you can't, no, no, no….
another dollar, another day, she manages sullenly.
tell me, he presses his lips to hers.
it's torture and paradise all at the same time; he doesn't know what to do or feel, or why he did it.
he pulls away.
tell me, he says again.
she tilts her chin.
if i had the words, she says, but then i wouldn't have anything else to sell you, now would i…
she kisses him again, heatedly.
tell me i'm right, she pleads, panting.
his tongue moves swiftly along the smooth skin on her neck.
she arches her back.
his hand slides under her dress, she slides it off without a care.
he kisses her breasts, her perfect, round, pale white breasts, and can feel her inhale sharply.
i love you, he mutters, freeing himself from the chair and shifting them to the cold hard flooring.
i want to believe you, she confesses, but i can't.
he still hasn't gotten that frown.
wear me out, he begs, now, just take me.
and she does.
frown for me, dear, he pleads.
his mona lisa.