He waits for the moment when they will meet again like an addict waiting for his fix. He's restless and the adrenaline that's always running when she's near is slowly burning through his body, waiting to explode in a rain of fire and blood. When she finally surfaces again he's waiting for her.
It goes against everything he used to believe in, everything he once stood for, but he still can't stop himself. When she does show, he stands exactly where he told her to meet him, Ryan Fletcher standing next him, a gun to his head and wide eyes.
She takes in the scene, her eyes lingering on Ryan's far longer than he likes, and the fire burns just a little bit hotter. She dosen't look surprised, she's probably been expecting him to act, just not knowing what he'd do. In her eyes he thinks he sees a shimmer of regret, and he takes far more pleasure in that than he should. She's been playing far more than she should have with him, and in their world everything has repurcussions, she should know that. She do know that, but she's no better than him, still wanting to get a bit closer to the fire, still inching closer and closer with every strike of their invisible clock. To far away is too cold, too close too hot, burn baby burn...
Soon that look is replaced by a more confident one, the one that gleams with the challenge of the fight. His body repsonds to her challenge and he smirks, and with a quick flick of his arm Ryan lies on the ground next to him, unconscious. That throws her for a second and she flinches, her eyes drawn to the fallen figure at his feet for a second, before she launches herself up and towards him. He deflects easily, her action brought on by feelings, making her act before thinking. He pushes her back, for now ignoring the urge to pull her closer instead, and their eyes meet, the rage in hers firing his own inner demon, the one that screams that she should never be looking at anyone but him. Still they don't speak, prefering to let their bodies do the talking for them.
This time they both move at the same moment, their arms meeting, one throwing, one blocking... a kick to his stomach makes him bend over, and her knee hits his face harshly, making him fall over with a grunt. She stands over him, a triumphant look on her face that makes him grit his teeth, and before she can react he's on his feet, his arms holding hers prisoner behind her back. Their eyes are inches apart, the glare in hers making his body sing in pleasure, and when he leans forward and their lips softly meet it feels like all he's been waiting for, like all the roads travelled has led them here, like he's been walking forever and someone just sprinkled his lips with water. Her lips taste just like he remembers, like wine and chocolate, pain and pleasure... sins and absolution. She pulls back and her eyes that closed at the first touch of his lips open to gaze at him. A few seconds pass as the tension grows, and in her eyes he sees the doubt and the pain. His hot breath washes over her face as he exhales, his arms tightening around her, and for a moment he thinks she will fight him, this, them, but she dosen't, and this time her lips crash to his hotly.
His reaction is instant, and he press her back against the wall, using his body to keep her tight against it. He pulls back to press his lips against her neck, and in a move as old as time he clamps his teeth around her skin and bites, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark. She almost hisses at him in response, and her hand in his hair tug roughly, forcing his head back and her lips back to his in a brusing kiss.
His hand reach up to teach her cheek, before sliding downward, coming to a rest against her heart, and he pushes her back, even more firmly to the wall before lifting his head to look into her hooded eyes. For a few seconds they both contemplate where this will lead them, their eyes asking questions their mouths are unwilling to answer.
In the end the tension that's always been between them becomes to much, and when their lips meet again a shudder pass through them, from his body to hers, and when their clothes fall ruined to the ground nothing exists except for them. It's not gentle, but it's what they need. The wall behind her scratches her back and she drags her nails down his in response, hard enough to draw blood. He groans, and presses againts her even harder, his hand fisting in her hair and pulling her head to the side so he can once again gain access to her slender neck. They lose themselves in each other, in their obsession, and they know that it's never ending, never stopping. It's mindless and it's painful – and it's them.