Disclaimers: I don't own any of these characters.
Summary: How does one fill up on emptiness after a lifetime of denial and self-imposed isolation? Old wounds fester, and certain purported cures are meant to hurt more than heal.
Like a shipwrecked sailor dying of thirst, he held the knowledge that merely one drop of the surrounding water would speed up his inevitable demise. Yet like a cruel lover, fate taunted a dying man with the image of what he craved the most, knowing full well that it would be the sole element of his downfall. His lips twisted sardonically at the irony, even as his heavy footsteps increased against the rain-slicked pavement.
Hopeless eyes riveted upon the smooth, clear surface of the ocean.
Tonight, he needed to drown himself in it, in whatever took away the hard edge of his thoughts, his memories. For underneath that cold and calculated exterior hid the weariness of a soul that had been running away from himself for far too long. Even a person such as he needed a temporary respite, as sparsely as it was given. It was almost worth the trouble of having to deal with his returning demons the following morning. Almost.
Sheer familiarity kept his strides brisk and sure as he reached the corner of the small motel. Heedless of the rain and mud covering his clothes, he swept through the swinging doors and into the small lobby. This is what I need right now, he thought to himself, even as his body reacted with instinctive disgust. Inside, he exchanged glances with the elderly owner, who inclined her head towards the staircase in greeting. Grunting in acknowledgement, he strode upstairs toward room 141.
A dying man's water… in the end, it is better left untouched.
As he fumbled for the key in his pocket, an unusual hesitation suddenly overtook him. Fool, he spat silently, what the hell do you think you're doing? All that ever came of this periodic indulgence were feelings of guilt, layered with an overwhelming sense of disgust. And feeling in itself was altogether unacceptable, for to feel was to allow weakness. He could not tolerate weakness, least of all in himself.
For a moment, the image of his previous partner flashed through his mind, and he briefly closed his eyes in defeat. After all, wasn't it ultimately his desire to disprove his own weakness that drove him to hunt her? Yes, she'd asked him to do it, but up to the very end, hadn't he been compelled by his own personal motives? He had needed to show himself that he was not above killing his own partner if necessary. Unfeeling bastard.
With an iron will, he forcefully shoved away any residual conscience that was left in him and turned the key. There was no going back now.
Trembling hands, dipping into the deceptively cool water.
"There you are." He flinched inwardly at the soft feminine voice. "I almost thought you wouldn't come."
His only response was to divest himself of his soaking wet coat and fling it towards the nearest chair. He needed respite without questions or words. He never asked for much and expected the same in return. His drenched shirt followed the coat.
"I know it's been rather…inconvenient lately, with someone else living in the apartment…" His hands suddenly stilled in the process of unbuckling his belt. She noticed it, but mistook his actions for exasperation at their situation. "…but I can speak to her if you'd like, so this…" her hand gestured around the cheap motel room, "won't be necessary."
"No," came the curt reply. Somehow, the mere thought of his new partner caused a peculiar feeling inside of him that he didn't care to analyze. That voice, which never appeared to rise above a low soothing cadence, always seemed to be giving out a silent plea. But it was those fawn-like green eyes that unsettled him the most, as if calling, beckoning him to… nonsense. "Leave things the way they are."
At his harsh tone, she abruptly turned away, but not before he caught the hurt in her eyes. Damn it. Damn this entire situation. As was always the case, he was instantly plagued with a sense of stabbing guilt. What was left of his humane side reminded himself that she didn't deserve this, that no one did.
"I told you before. You don't have to do this."
Her head snapped up in surprise at his words. It was then he saw that her eyes were brimming with tears. Shaking her head, she suddenly flung herself from the bed and into his arms. The next instant, she'd wrapped herself around him and was raining kisses down his throat, his chest. Her body pressed and molded against him in the exact way she knew he needed it. Of their own volition, his own hands came up and tangled themselves in her long chestnut tresses. Grabbing a handful for leverage, he pulled back, forcing her half-unfocused gaze to meet with his now burning one.
It was the last straw for him. He'd given her the chance to leave, to escape this downward spiral he'd brought her into time and again. Yet her refusal only meant that she was now subject to his will, his needs. Throughout it all, he hadn't forgotten the reason why he was here in the first place. The dormant beast had been patient all this time, but no more. It screamed to be released, to escape its ironclad restraints. Curving his lips into a twisted smile, he brought his face so close to hers that his hot breath tickled cheek.
"You do know what this means now, don't you?" he rasped softly, his voice harsh with unbridled lust. Her own breathing had become shallow and uneven, her face flushed with an answering desire.
"Just do it," she whispered almost breathlessly, eyes riveted to his parted lips. In the next instant, his mouth was upon her, claiming her own with a near savage hunger. And then her hands were upon him, stroking him, relying on familiarity to touch him where he needed it the most. Her fingers left a white-hot trail of searing heat down his body, causing an involuntary tremor to go through him. This was what he craved, what he needed for the moment. But later, his mind rebelled, what will you do later?
Unable to resist, weak unsteady hands cup a handful of seawater.
Their tongues clashed wildly with each other in a battle of wills. Her wandering hands found and pressed against his now aching hardness. With a barely suppressed groan, he grasped her blouse with both hands and tore, heedless of the buttons that scattered everywhere. The beast was now unleashed, and it was too impatient for any sort of foreplay. Cupping her rounded bottom with both hands, he lifted her and strode towards the nearest wall. Pushing her against it, he lifted her skirt and slid one leg between her thighs, pressing her heated center directly against his aching hardness. His teeth flashed in a predatory grin as she instinctively arched against him, small whimpers escaping her parted lips.
Pushing away the torn fabric of her blouse, he buried his face between her breasts and inhaled the familiar scent of heavy arousal, mingled with a trace of her flowery perfume. He needed this, this temporary indulgence where the carnal pleasures of the flesh overrode the demons that raged within. Growling like a savage beast, his mouth descended upon her soft mounds, biting and suckling and licking her to an exhilarated frenzy, even as he forced her to ride his thigh roughly.
"Please," she finally managed to choke out, "I can't…take this much longer…" His teeth bit down on her flesh and she threw her head back, an anguished cry escaping her lips.
"Free me," his uneven voice rasped against her sensitive breasts. Lifting his head, he pinned her with his hot burning gaze, daring her to defy him. With unsteady hands, she pulled at his trousers, managing to free him of its confines. He let out a startled gasp when her slender fingers circled around his throbbing shaft, stroking it with gentle caresses.
He couldn't take much more of this. His arousal was so thick now that it was painful. Pushing her hands away, he suddenly grasped her panties and pulled, tearing them as well. Dropping it onto the floor, he slid her skirt up to her waist and spread her thighs, positioning himself against her heated center. He urgently rubbed his tip against her opening, letting the slick juices of her arousal coat him. She was more than ready for him.
Yet as he prepared to penetrate her, a sudden thought flashed through his head. She's not the one you need.
The dying man, taking his first sip of the deadly water…
Like hell. With a harsh groan, he thrust into her hard and deep. Their simultaneous cries of pleasure rang out against the walls of the room. This was what he needed. It didn't matter who it was, as long as he got what he sought in the end. Reveling in the hot, wet warmth surrounding him, he began to move, driving into her again and again. She arched against him, her ragged moans fueling the savage hunger of the beast within. Leaning his forehead forward against the cool wall, he clenched his jaw against the carnal cravings.
He closed his eyes, willing his brain to cease functioning, to let his body take over for once. Yet unbidden, his mind was unexpectedly assailed with the peculiar vision of soft green eyes and wheat-gold hair. The scent of vanilla and grass intoxicated his senses. Suddenly, it was not the throaty moans of his lover that he heard, but soft anguished cries of passion and wonder. Damn it.
She was the last thing he needed on his mind. Yet inexplicably, her image only fanned the flames of his lust. The thought of her willing body spread before him as he pierced her flesh again and again was enough to make him lose all vestiges of control. But the notion that a mere slip of a girl could have this kind of effect on him also angered him beyond reason.
With a snarl, he shifted, changing the depth and angle of his thrusts. He claimed her lips roughly, his tongue invading her mouth mercilessly as she arched and moaned brokenly against him. But still, he couldn't rid himself of her image pinned beneath him, arching against him, teeth clenched on his name at the moment of fulfillment. Dear God…
He was drowning in the deadly water…
By now, the coupling had reached a frenzied pace. Bodies drenched in perspiration, they moved slickly against one another in an attempt to reach completion. Sensing that her release was close, he dragged his mouth away from hers, his breath coming in short hot bursts as it trailed down her throat. Sucking at the juncture where her pulse beat, his thumb simultaneously reached down and brushed against the pulsing nub between her legs. That was her undoing.
"Amon!" she screamed brokenly, her body wracked with wave after wave of rapture. Her long nails were digging so hard into his shoulder blades that they drew blood. He groaned at the feel of her wet heat clamped tightly around him, milking him with the juices of her release. In his mind's eye, it was straw-gold hair, and not chestnut, that hung about a heart-shaped face like a wanton veil. It was emerald-green eyes, not brown ones that he saw glazed with the after-effects of climax. Lord help him, but he could bear the hunger no more.
With a guttural cry, he sank his teeth into her shoulder, simultaneously thrusting into her as deep as he could. She cried out at the unbearable pleasure-pain, her body cresting into another climax, driving him over the edge as well. With a violent shudder, he spilled his seed deep within her, his teeth gritted against the violent throes of carnal ecstasy. Afterwards, he held her there against the wall, both their bodies sticky, sweaty, and shaky, as the culmination of their passion trickled down to the dirty carpet.
His hunger thus appeased, the harsh rays of reality began to seep in. Willing his eyes open, he grimly acknowledged that the woman in his arms was not the one he had made love to in his mind's eye. This one was slumped against the wall, her hands clutching at the last remnants of her clothing and most likely, her pride. Her gaze was averted from his, as was always the case after such encounters. Once again, the feeling of guilt was overwhelming, washing away all other sensations.
"I'm sorry," he finally said when he'd managed to find his voice. It was all he could do to keep the bitterness out of his tone. Disentangling himself from her, he turned to retrieve the clothes that were so carelessly discarded in his previously lust-filled haste. His cool, collected demeanor belied the turmoil that was currently raging within. He didn't care to assess the amount of damage that was inflicted this night. After all, it was just another brick in the wall. Tonight was no different.
Liar, his traitorous mind retorted, do you think substituting one for the other is going to solve your problems?
He let loose a foul oath, cursing himself, cursing her. For therein, lay the problem. No matter how he denied it, he could not get the girl out of his thoughts. Try as he might, he could not ignore the pull that she had on him. It was perplexing, intoxicating, and ultimately lethal. Like her fire craft, he knew that anyone who got too close would eventually get burned. He was not foolish enough to think he would be the exception.
Then why is that that every time you look into her eyes, you see the one hope against your waking nightmares?
Forcing such disconcerting thoughts aside, he donned the last of his clothing and prepared to leave. At the last minute however, he hesitated, sparing a glance at the woman who now sat hunched on the carpeted ground. Her arms were wrapped around her drawn-up knees, her chin resting on top of it. Her vulnerable position sent another stab of guilt piercing through his gut.
"You'd best go home now," he suggested mildly.
Her brown eyes met his, lost yet proud. "I'll go when it suits me," she responded evenly.
"Very well, then." He had met his obligations. Without another glance, he was out the door.
*****************
Once downstairs, he approached the innkeeper, who was a bit startled to be sought out by the enigmatic man. Other than the first time he'd made arrangements for the room upstairs, he had never bothered to speak to her. Striding up to the front desk now, he wordlessly tossed the room key onto the counter, along with a thick wad of cash. As he turned silently to leave, she finally found the voice to speak.
"Wait! Does this mean that…?"
"Yes," he responded curtly, somehow managing not to break pace with his strides, "I've no more use of it." Without another word, he swung through the double doors and out into the streets. This was the end. There was no turning back.
Outside, the rain had stopped altogether, the clouds slowly dispersing to reveal frail rays of moonlight. Closing his eyes, he took in a lungful of the evening air and exhaled. It held a whiff of promise and something else that felt suspiciously like hope. Yet hope was the last thing he should be feeling. After all, what did he have left, now that he'd given up on his temporary respite?
For a moment, the image of bottle-green eyes flashed before him. Smiling sardonically, he turned his mind away and chose to ignore it. How typical.
Perhaps one day, he thought silently. But not now.
Letting the cool water slide from his hands, he waited patiently for the moment when he would finally be saved.
Fin
Author's Note: This vignette takes place before episode 10, and is my take on the characters and their relationships. I don't know how much I've kept them in character, but I hope it wasn't too off. Please drop any comments or constructive criticisms that you have, I very much appreciate it!