A/N: Okay, I am back after a LONG hiatus of not writing and having no internet, but I am back and more conditioned than ever. I regret to inform you that I am between a rock and a hard-place when trying to decide where I should go with my Christie and Elliot Story. So, here is something my strange mind concocted as a trivial compensation for a drastic wait.
Corruption
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Part 1: Intimate Beginnings
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Christie.
His emerald green eyes are truly a mesmerizing hypnosis, but they are void of any real emotion he holds towards me. Lust and Passion are holding the reigns of this wild Russian stallion and he is driven off impulse and pure arousal. "Let me see you darlin'." his whispers are an erotic turn-on that always found an exotic way to ignite my internal flame. I complied by widening the width between my legs to expose my delicate flower for his hungry gaze. He smiles in response and prepares himself with the latex armor he found in his bottom-drawer. "Just as I remember it."
I do not know how I found myself in his bed again after so many sessions in my bedroom practicing this very scene with my pillow; only, instead of my answer being a soft whimper saying 'yes', my stoic attitude is my cloak against peril and I find myself saying 'no'. We have been the infamous on again, off again couple for years now; last spring being the first time we officially called it quits and decided we were best single. He cheated with another one of his women he had back in Russia waiting for his return, Erma or Eileen was her name I believe, while we were still an item; but it didn't faze me too much because I had my own little rendezvous 'one-night stands' during the course of our inconsistent relationship that he never really 'discovered'. The thing that tore us apart was the simple fact that he said…he didn't love me, he loved the thought of me and I was nothing more than an optical illusion.
He grabbed my curvaceous waist and brought my limp body towards his hard, sweaty one, my erect pink pearls coming in close contact with his well-toned mocha-caramel pectorals. "Brace yourself." His warning was simple.
I grinned and began to trace and outline of my name along the lines of his toned neck. "I didn't know you cared so much there, Bayman." I kissed the spot between his ear and his shoulder blade, smelling the intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne as the kiss deepened to nothing more than a light suckle of flesh. Oak, apple-cider and spice. He smelt of a man. "I want to leave one of those 'love-bites' Bayman."
A light rumble of amused laughter was delivered to my ear as he entered my tight cavern with ease, a single gasp of pure ecstasy escaping my partially parted lips in result that rocked the stilled air-waves of his massive sized bedroom. That familiar feeling of completion that I almost forgot existed came running back in full-speed, full force and came strong. "Bayman." It was all my mind could register.
"You missed this…didn't you?"
His voice was in a husky murmur but had the fire and intensity to light even the most ferocious of volcanoes. I nodded and rode the age-old rhythm he set for us, an Evergreen headboard knocking the maroon colored drywall behind us, the silver and gold plated metal frame of the European king creaking due to intense motion. I wanted to tell him no, but I couldn't resist that feeling of neediness. He was the only man alive that understood me, the only man alive that could accept and understand the bloodstained burden I was cursed to carry as an assassin, the only man alive that could ever truly say I wasn't just an assassin.