Home by eleven, that must have been a new record. Granny was nowhere in sight, and it was just so damn typical – whenever she did something right, it passed unnoticed. She went to the bathroom, cleaned up and got ready for bed. She hoped her mind would give her a break and shut down once she was asleep…
Still tired, she drove to work feeling completely exhausted, like she hadn't slept a wink, even though she got at least six solid hours of sleep. It was annoying, to say the least. Checking in the mirror if there were any smears on her impeccable make-up, she suddenly felt something bump the front of her car. There was a distinct screeching of tires as the car came to a full stop and her eyes went wide, knuckles whitening as she held the wheel in a death grip. Did she just hit someone? Impossible, her eyes went off the road for just a second!
Shaky and swallowing hard, she unbuckled her seat belt and stepped outside to see what happened, hoping to God that whatever she hit wasn't human. Well, hitting an animal was equally dreadful, and the mere thought of Pongo, or any other dog, squashed under the tires of her car made her teary-eyed. She hoped that the absence of screams meant that everything was fine.
Her step was uncertain as she cast a glance on the asphalt, breath hitching in her throat.
There was so much blood, and the pool was spreading. She should have moved away, because it was creeping up to her boots, but she couldn't move a muscle. Ruby could do nothing but stare, transfixed, glued to the spot. It was like all reason fled, leaving only an inarticulate pillar of flesh and bone behind. The fabric of his clothes was completely drenched, the longer strands of his hair caked with blood on one side, plastering it to his face in an entirely morbid way.
She wanted to run away, or at least turn her eyes away from the gruesome sight, but couldn't.
He was dead. She killed him.
The pool of red was expanding, reaching his golden-tipped cane, and swallowing it ever so slowly…
Ruby awoke with a startle, beads of sweat rolling off her forehead. It's been awhile since she had a proper nightmare. To be perfectly honest, she didn't miss them.
The thought of killing Mr. Gold was terrifying, and realizing that it was nothing but a stupid dream eased her mind considerably. If she did indeed possess the ability of prophetic dreams, she'd rather go to work on foot today.
She tossed and turned in bed for an hour until sleep claimed her once more.
Ruby was not a happy camper come morning. Lugging the heavy sign into the street made her more grumpy than she already was, and even though she smiled as Granny passed her by, hands full of crusty baguettes, her expression went sour immediately afterwards. Not even the sight of the hunky sheriff could remedy her foul mood. Not only did she spend the better part of last night agonizing over the current situation between her and Gold - the nightmare, and, subsequently, lack of sleep, were wreaking havoc on her already rattled nerves.
She just wanted to know where they stood. Getting the cold shoulder and a door slammed to her face didn't seem like such a bad idea, as long as it came with some peace of mind at last.
Maybe she should go to his shop after work and just ask him. That would certainly be more productive than torturing herself for days on end.
She served Graham his coffee and was quite content to lose herself in mindless work as Emma Swan entered the diner, carrying a crisp copy of The Mirror, an apple in hand. Ruby watched the woman as she sat at the counter –a clear indication that she wasn't expecting company. Once she had settled, the door opened once more, the blonde's son very nearly tip-toeing in. He placed his index finger over his lips, asking for her silence and Ruby obliged. The kid was obviously up to something, which made her curious.
Henry sat in the booth closest to the window, behind Graham and beckoned her closer with a wave of his hand.
"Could you make her a cup of cocoa with whipped cream and sprinkle cinnamon on top?"
The hushed, secretive tone of his voice made her smile, the boy was cute. He was ordering his mom hot cocoa to butter her up, that much was obvious, but the gesture was so sweet that Ruby felt her heart melt a little.
"Mary Margaret special, eh?" She grinned, and Henry nodded solemnly.
"And don't tell her it was from me! At least not right away." Henry pleaded.
Ruby flashed him a knowing grin: "You want it to be a surprise, huh?"
"Something like that." He acquiesced.
"All right, keep your secret." She mock-pouted and went back behind the counter.
Once the cinnamon was sprinkled on top, she presented the lucky mother with the gift:
"Here you go."
Emma seemed to have given up on taking a bite out of her apple, and looked confused.
"Thank you… But I did not order that."
Ruby suddenly felt very mischievous and chose to play her part well.
"Yeah, I know. You have an admirer."
Since Graham was sitting right behind her, Ruby wondered how spectacular Emma's (over)reaction would be. And, surely enough, the blonde took the mug and marched straight to his table.
"Ah, so you decided to stay." He seemed pleased.
"Observant. Important for a cop." Cue sarcasm, it made Ruby stifle a giggle. Poor sheriff, he had no idea what was going on.
"It's good news for our tourist business… It's bad for our local signage." Ruby wanted to facepalm; his sense of humor was so ridiculously awkward sometimes, but she supposed that it was a part of his charm.
Emma seemed to have noticed that, and gave him a long incredulous look which meant "seriously?" and "that was so lame".
The poor guy seemed so lost when she failed to show any amusement, and he fumbled about: "It's…it's a joke."
Emma gave him a pitying look. Still he continued to explain, waving his hands in emphasis.
"Because you ran over our sign?" That sounded a bit desperate and Ruby was torn between laughing and going over to hug the guy.
"Look," Emma interrupted before he could embarrass himself further: "the cocoa was a nice gesture, and I am impressed that you guessed that I liked cinnamon on my chocolate, cause most people don't… but I am not here to flirt, so… Thank you, but no thank you."
Ruby cringed at the sight; it was getting painful to watch.
Graham shook his head slightly and said: "I didn't send it."
Emma had little time to be confused, because Henry rose from his seat to explain: "I did. I like cinnamon too."
Emma recovered rather quickly, Ruby had to admit.
"Don't you have school?"
Henry tossed his head back, giving his second mother a look of disbelief.
"Duh. I'm ten. Walk me!" He demanded.
Emma seemed hesitant for a bit, but caved in.
That kid would definitely be a charmer one day, Ruby thought.
True love at work, if Ruby ever saw any – a mother with her child, doing seemingly unimportant, trivial things together, and having fun with little to no effort at all. It made her jealous. There was nobody like that there for her. There was nobody out there who loved her unconditionally, nobody who would sacrifice themselves for her, not a soul.
She realized how painful that was as the realization solidified, embedding itself in her heart like a jagged splinter, making her feel wounded and raw. Shit, she needed to know where they stood, the sooner the better. The uncertainty was agonizing.
After the shift, at his store… Yes, that sounded like a plan. Or not, no matter if hardly anyone went there, the people passing by could see her coming into the shop, and that wasn't a good idea. In this messed up state, if anyone bothered to be persistent enough with pointed questions, she was sure she might snap and say something extremely uncalled for, something compromising.
And then everything would be shot for good.
No. Not after the shift. Not at his shop.
At his house?
Yes, that was private enough, she could always go through the forest, skulk to his back door to minimize the chances of being seen in the darkness... That was a reasonably sound course of action. Of course, he could always choose not to open the door for her, but that didn't matter right now. She could throw a brick through the glass and see how he likes it when it ends up waking the entire neighborhood. Oh yeah, and Graham too. She'd just love to explain to him why she did it.
A woman scorned and all that.
Yes, she could do that.
A plan fully forming in her head brought a sense of ease along with it, calming the tempest in her brain. This would work.
She didn't bother explaining where she was going and just said: "Out. I'll be back before midnight."
Granny didn't ask, hopefully appeased by her granddaughter's reassurance as well as the choice of wardrobe for the evening – a simple red tank top covered by a loose black button up shirt, jeans and one of her lower-heeled boots. Ruby slipped into her jacket and stepped out of the inn into the twilight. He'd probably be closing his shop right about now, and her trek through the woods should be more than long enough for the man to be home before she got to his backyard.
Her mind was strangely empty as she walked through the forest, her pace even, strides long and sure. There was no way for her to sense the exact amount of time it took to get to his house, but it didn't even matter. Stopping on the border of the tree line, she looked at his house from behind – it was dark, all of it.
All except for a solitary window on the first floor.
After a quick glance to the right, she left the cover of trees behind, rushing to his back door as quickly and as quietly as possible, and only when she was very nearly plastered against it did she stop to breathe. Nobody saw her, of that she was fairly certain.
Her attention went back to the tinted glass door and she went for the knob, secretly hoping for it to be unlocked. That would make things so much easier.
It wasn't, of course.
She tried to push harder a few more times, but the door refused to budge. There was no bell on this side, which was making things difficult. She could shout to him, but that was a really bad idea. A downward look to her left revealed a neat row of rose bushes – overgrown, but still blooming. On the ground, she discerned gravel.
Grabbing a fistful, she backed away from the door and looked up at the light. The window was closed. She couldn't see much of anything from this angle, but it didn't matter. That's what the gravel was for.
She tried tossing a single pebble, but it hardly made any sound at all upon contact.
Then she tried tossing five at a time. The raspy sound of rock against glass echoed in the absolute quiet of the evening, and she listened, waiting for any sign of movement from above.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Nothing. Not loud enough yet.
Her patience was wearing thin, so she decided to gamble and flung the rest with as much force as she could muster. The rain of pebbles clattered against the glass and after a moment or two, the light seemed to dim as the window opened, revealing a slightly disheveled man. He was very nearly hissing:
"Who the –" He must have seen her waving at him from below, and fell silent immediately. She couldn't read his expression from that far away, it was just too far and too dark, but she pointed at the back door without a word, hoping he would get it. He lingered there for a moment, and then disappeared, the window closing immediately after.
She waited outside, where the hell was he? How long did it take for him to limp down that ridiculously massive wooden staircase? Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she felt her heart rate increase by the second. The nervousness was making it hard to breathe properly, to think.
After what must have been an eternity, the darkness behind the doors was no more, dim light spilling from the inside. A dark smear was moving through it, growing as it drew near.
The door opened with a slight creak and she saw him through the crack. For some reason, he didn't bother opening the door for more than a fraction, and she frowned at his closely guarded expression.
"What is it?" He asked impatiently, like he hadn't expected to see her, like he hated the fact that she dared do this, like her closeness was a bad thing. It stung more than she would have expected.
"Aren't you gonna invite me in?" She asked, sounding more serious than she planned to, but this was how she felt, she couldn't just fake being fine, not now. Not at this time.
The lines on his face were rigid and for a moment, Ruby was convinced that he would slam the door in her face and that that would be the end.
Thankfully, he chose not to, and the door opened all the way. He said nothing, but he moved aside to let her in. She lowered her head and took a step over the threshold. The door clicked shut behind her and she risked a look at him.
He was serious, so damn much that she wondered who this man standing before her was, for he certainly wasn't the Mr. Gold she knew. The two images were nothing alike, and were in such stark contrast that her senses felt assaulted.
The silence stretched on for more than a minute, and her throat went completely dry. They were both looking at each other as if they were trying to gauge their respective strength, quiet and intense. After it probably became apparent to him that she couldn't, or was actively choosing not to speak, he broke the strained silence:
"What are you doing here?"
No pet, no dear, no nothing at the end of his sentence. It wasn't a good sign.
Attempting to marshal her thoughts, she knew that truth would have a really hard time crossing her lips at this point, so she didn't even bother.
"I came to collect my underwear."
God, she'd never say that under normal circumstances, not because of the context, but the choice of words – it was foreign, tasted so damn alien on her tongue, bitter and wrong and fucking unnatural. The phrasing was more along the lines of something he would say, all impersonal and cold and... business-like.
"I believe it is where you've left it." His voice was measured, even. Impassive. She couldn't take it.
So, he didn't even bother picking it up after she left? He just left it lying somewhere in the basement, discarded.
Discarded and meaningless, just like her.
"You mean, where you left it." He obviously needed reminding that this was a two-way street. "You're the one who… handled them last."
Yes, he took her panties off himself, cast them into the darkness, she didn't care then where they landed, and she certainly didn't care now – the thought was, frankly, something she could do without at the moment, completely irrelevant and unnecessarily distracting.
Without a word, without as much as a flinch, he walked to the basement door, opening it for her and stepping aside. She gave him a long hard look – he was still dressed, must have not been home for long, the only exception being the fact that his suit jacket and tie were missing. The two top buttons of his black shirt were undone.
Focus. She needed to do this, needed to stick to the plan.
It was, admittedly, an extremely faulty one, but she had no strength left to think of anything else. She searched for the light switch on the right and pressed it.
Nothing happened. The cellar remained dark.
Ruby looked at him. Their gazes locked for a moment, but Gold said nothing, his lips drawn into a thin line.
"You didn't change the light bulb."
She watched intently as he twitched nearly imperceptibly, almost like he was struggling to come up with an appropriate response, only to come up short.
"You haven't even been down there since, have you?" This wasn't a real question, as Ruby had a distinct feeling that she was talking to herself.
He averted his gaze and looked away from the door, his eyes fixed to the floor. She took this as admission of guilt.
He was avoiding the cellar. Avoiding the scene of the crime. A person who genuinely didn't give a damn about the situation should be unfazed by something like this – changing a light bulb shouldn't pose a problem, picking up underwear from the floor neither. None of which he bothered with, which meant only one thing – he wasn't able to.
It would seem that Mr. Gold had chosen to run away from what had transpired between them, unable to face what they had done.
And that shouldn't be so. People ran from things that scared them, ran away from things that hurt, things that confused. Basically, from anything which disturbed their frail sense of inner peace. Never, not in a million years would the thought occur to her. He just seemed like the kind of man that feared nothing, standing arrogantly in spite of everything and everyone around him, intense and stubborn and relentless. But his reaction clashed violently with that image, cracking its surface.
"Why are you really here?" He asked, his voice razor sharp. She could hardly take the sheer intensity of his glare, his sudden hostility making her flinch and recoil. So, he could still maintain control, enough to deflect her attempts to find something out, and attack her instead.
Torn between deceit, which would come easier, and truth, which had more potential to draw some of his own honesty to the surface despite hurting like a bitch, she bit her lower lip.
"You're right. I didn't come here for that."
Silence.
"Then what, pray tell," he looked at her like he wanted to smother her, or strike her: "are you here for?"
He looked more intimidating than ever and now she could see why everybody was so terrified of him – there was just something ferocious and uncontrollable in his gaze, an unyielding quality which was capable of making even the bravest of people shrink away under its tremendous power. The look revealed a man capable of anything if pushed far enough. It made her shiver.
"I… I just need to know." She murmured plaintively, trying hard not to shy away from his burning glare, persisting, almost desperate.
"Believe me, just believe me…" She had no idea why the need was so overwhelming, but its force didn't leave any doubts as to its existence. The feeling was here to stay.
"Know what?" He sounded irritated and more than a bit tired.
She felt at a loss. The right words were stubbornly refusing to form in her head, and her body was coming up with the most tempting, but ultimately unhelpful ideas.
Kiss him, it murmured, show him what you mean.
Ruby was trying hard to restrain herself, fists clenched by her sides, her breathing suddenly heavy, coming out in ragged, uneven bursts. The truth was so damn hard to translate into words, damn near impossible.
"That woman…" she managed to squeeze out, "Emma Swan. You know her from before, don't you?"
He seemed genuinely taken aback for a moment, honestly surprised by her choice of words.
"I have no idea what you mean."
The attempt to mask what he was truly feeling came off rushed and slightly pathetic, because Ruby could see how fake it was.
"Yes, you do. Don't even bother lying, I'm not stupid."
"I have never met her before yesterday, I assure you."
His assurance? That just made it more suspicious.
"Don't give me that crap," Ruby breathed out in annoyance: "Sure, she looked like she'd never seen you before in her life, I'll give you that, but even if you hadn't met her before, you obviously knew of her. You have something on her." She finished resolutely.
Gold blinked and a slight frown drew his eyebrows closer together, which meant that she managed to hit a nerve somewhere.
"What could I possibly have on her, when I've never seen her before in my life?"
Oh, he was irritated now. She finally saw through it, to the very bottom, to the emotion that actually lay beneath all the barbed wire and landmines.
He was not happy with what she was saying, probably because she hit too close to home. He was scared. Of what, she had no idea, but he was definitely unsettled by this.
"She's Henry's real mom." Ruby stated, prodding for a response of any kind.
Gold's lips tightened.
"Oh, but you already knew that, didn't you?" She stabbed him mercilessly. It made perfect sense now, of course he would know that, as manipulative as he was, with his talons in everybody's business.
His silence wasn't helping him make a case for himself.
This wasn't the first time that children were brought up in the same context with him. Ash was insecure and frail enough to sign a frickin' contract with him, handing over her kid because nobody wanted to give her a chance to be a mom, and even she herself had doubts by the dozen. Wait…
Could it be?
Ruby's face went lax as the idea formed in her mind, a moment of perfect clarity flashing across her features.
"You got her kid for Regina, didn't you?" A hint of disgust crept into her tone. "You were checking her out, for God's sake, how screwed up is that?"
"Is that why you came here?" Gold asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Because you were jealous?"
Taken aback by his observation, and despite knowing for a fact that he just deliberately tried to derail the conversation, she still didn't manage to keep the pain out of her expression.
For some reason, his eyes went wide for a moment, his jaw slack, and he leaned back a fraction, his expression softening somewhat.
"No… That's not why I'm here." She murmured quietly, looking at the floor. Her eyes shut tightly and she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was coming. Unsure if he would press his advantage or not, which would be a bastardly thing to do, she felt immensely relieved when he said nothing.
"I… wanted to ask you something." Gosh, she sounded defeated. That was so not her.
He remained quiet.
"Are you… seeing someone?" With that, she cast a furtive glance in his direction, noticing that he looked surprised and confused, all in one go.
"You mean besides…" he swallowed, obviously searching for the right term: "this?"
Wow, he didn't even dare use anything more specific than that?
Ruby gave him a weak nod in response, anticipating his answer breathlessly.
Gold stood there for a moment, an unidentifiable, yet raw emotion fleeting across his face and finally said, shaking his head gently:
"No. There's no one."
Ruby let out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding and her posture relaxed visibly.
"Why are you asking me this?" The incredulity in his tone was unmistakable. He looked like he truly had no idea why she would want to know this particular information, like it never even crossed his mind.
The words slipped out of her mouth before she could actually think about what she was saying, the immediate need to get this burden off her chest overwhelming:
"When…" God, this was so damn awkward, "When I'm with someone…"
Great, just great. On top of sounding like a stuttering idiot, now she felt like a girl from a cheap romance novel, barely able to string two sentences together when faced with her crush. The worst part was, this was about as far from a romance novel as it was possible, for she was no silly doe-eyed Mary Sue, swooning over her Prince (or vampire) Charming. But then again, she didn't want a sparkly macho man – action figures tended to have little else going for them, their rubber heads full of nothing but hot air.
She couldn't even look at him as she continued: "When I'm… sleeping with someone… I don't generally…" Jesus, so many things to say, and it all sounded so damn wrong. "go around."
Ok, this didn't make any sense, and Ruby felt stupid. Explaining what she meant was damned embarrassing, but she would rather get the point across properly than suffer through any of his questions which would likely make her want to die right there on the spot.
"What I'm trying to say here," she said, slightly dismayed, "is that I don't normally do this sort of thing. I don't sleep with a guy after the first date, and if I do… sleep with a guy, and if I like it, obviously, then I don't go looking around for someone else." She swallowed nervously and looked at him tentatively, worried about what he would say or do, hoping that she made herself clear.
He looked more confused than she had ever seen, and realized that he was likely having a hard time understanding her garbled thoughts.
"Fuck." It seemed like he'd need further explanation, despite the fact that she did her best to be as clear as possible.
"It might be weird for you, but I'm not exactly like what the rumors say I am… I'm not…" The word festered in her throat for a while before she gathered enough strength to pronounce it: "A slut."
She could have sworn that he seemed pained for but a moment before he spoke: "I never said that."
"You probably thought it." She remarked bitterly, "God knows that everybody does."
"No." He denied firmly. "You're not… that. You're not."
His awkward reassurance struck her as sweet and she flashed him a weak smile.
"Well, with the amount of money you spent on that dinner, it probably came across that way anyhow." Fuck, this hurt so bad.
"What?" He half hissed, half spat. "Is that what you think? That I would –"
"Are you telling me you didn't?" She interrupted. "Most men would think that way, you know. I have yet to meet a guy whose hands don't go grabby for the woman after they pay for something."
That came out more vicious than she thought it would, and it made her fully expect a verbal assault in return, but he looked slightly horrified instead.
"Swine." He growled. "Not men."
Perplexed by his earnest answer, she could do little but stare at him. Even though he hardly said anything, she believed him. There was just too much hurt on his face for her not to. He didn't even seem insulted, almost like he had no pride at all, he seemed pained. There was also anger, but she could tell that it wasn't directed at her, but rather at the aforementioned swine.
"Besides, I wasn't the one to make the first move, dearie." He said darkly.
He was doing this to protect himself, not to attack her. She didn't know how, but she just knew.
"I remember." She grinned, looking more like her usual self. "You seemed very opposed to the idea. I almost gave up." The confession came more easily than it should have.
He froze, giving her a piercing look that managed to come across as soft. He sounded tired and almost… weak as he murmured:
"Why did you come here?"
Ruby felt no more need to pretend, she was exhausted.
"I don't do one-night stands, Gold. It's not me." He kept quiet, obviously waiting for her to elaborate.
"And I wanted to know if you had something on the side, 'cause I don't… And in case you don't either… I wanted to… Shit this is awkward –" She rubbed her temples and went on: "When I'm with someone, I expect us to be, well… exclusive. At least to a certain degree. Now, I don't expect you to chain yourself to me or anything stupid like that, but I would like you not to screw around for as long as you're with me. If that's ok with you."
Gold seemed honestly taken aback, but managed to collect himself fairly quickly.
"I was under the impression that you weren't up for a repeat performance."
That earned him a frown as she asked; her voice laced with disbelief:
"What gave you that idea?"
He just stood there unmoving for a moment, looking at her like it was supposed to be self-evident or something.
"You did sneak out like a thief in the night, my dear."
Fuck. Is that why he was so cold? Because he thought she bailed on him after sex? Did he actually…?
"What? You think I was ashamed?" That was preposterous.
"Ashamed, disgusted, disappointed… Take a pick." The nonchalance he was trying to produce seemed off, despite his best efforts.
"No!" Ruby raised her voice, looking clearly upset. "After all that, you think I could be disappointed?"
He said nothing, which frustrated her, doing all the talking was not what she wanted to do right now, it made her feel like she was talking to a wall. She needed his input, needed his thoughts on the matter.
What did he want here? Proof? Did he really need to be told how good it was what they shared, how amazing it made her feel? A man of his experience? It seemed ridiculous. And yet, he was clearly uncertain.
The man before her was a walking conundrum, full of unexpected contradictions, shattering her assumptions the moment she seemed certain of them, almost like he was doing it on purpose. Which was impossible, even for him, nobody was quite that good at deception. Plus, she wasn't getting any dishonest vibes from him, if anything; he seemed more forthcoming than usual. So, what were the options? What was the real question she was supposed to be asking here? Was this really about him requiring validation, or was he simply misdirecting her again? That was certainly within the realm of possibility.
But then again, there could be other reasons for his uncertainty. Maybe he simply doubted her words, thought that she was lying to get something out of him. That wasn't such a far-fetched (f-f) thought, because, let's face it, what did he really know about her except what he had seen so far? She had plenty of secrets of her own that she'd rather die than show to others, and expecting him to give up all of his own wasn't just unfair, but also mind-bogglingly unrealistic.
The last option was that he really wasn't as experienced as he seemed, but that just didn't fit the image. The pawnbroker always seemed so ridiculously composed, radiating confidence which bordered on effortless arrogance that she couldn't possibly imagine him being insecure, or anything as ridiculous as that. Someone as perceptive as Gold couldn't possibly mistake her signals for something other than what they were.
And yet, here they were. Swallowing her pride and embarrassment, she confessed:
"I came three times. If you really need a comparison, I'll draw it out for you – I'm usually lucky if I get to orgasm once. Still doubtful about that repeat performance?"
His face betrayed a strange mixture of discomfort and what looked like pride, well, if he was flattered, that couldn't be a bad thing. Men usually appreciated a nice ego boost, and she imagined that this definitely qualified as one.
Now that things were out in the open, she felt lighter than she'd been in days, weeks actually. As far as honesty went, she felt the urge to tell him about wanting to stay. About being freaked out by it. She wanted him to know how hard it was to leave that night, but she just couldn't. That was one weakness too many. He already knew too much.
"So, you're saying…"
"Do you really need me to spell it out for you? I thought you were smarter than that, jeez…" There was no real bite to that comment, merely an eye-roll for good measure.
"So, you are saying that you wouldn't be opposed to a more… permanent arrangement."
She laughed at that, raising her eyebrows: "See? Was that so hard?"
He rewarded her with a smirk and she realized how incredibly stuffy she felt in her jacket. She unzipped it, and was about to take it off, when he asked, voice smack-dab in between amusement and alarm:
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like, genius?"
Her eyes shone with mischief, her grin wide and playful. Now that the worst part was over, she finally felt more at ease. This was what she was good at.
"Drawing up a new contract."
She let her jacket fall to the floor and shut the door to the basement, a plan forming in her head already. He stood close enough for her to be able to grab his shirt and she pulled him closer with a swift yank. He staggered for a step, ending up nearly fully pressed against her chest as her back hit the wall.
Their lips were inches apart and she teased: "So… Where do I sign?" He didn't move, but Ruby could feel the rush of his heartbeats under her palm. His left hand snaked around her waist, coming to rest on the small of her back, his fingers sliding under her shirts until they were fluttering across her skin. The sensation made her jerk and press her chest against him, and a slight gasp escaped her lips.
This shouldn't feel so good. Not when she was sober, not after baring her soul to him in an entirely embarrassing way. The way he was able to make her moan with a mere brush of his hand just wasn't fair, and oh God, his scent was so strong, what kind of crazy pheromone was that, stirring her desire like it was no big deal, and then she was drowning when his lips found hers, all burning and moist and demanding, making her melt into him like warm honey. Her head swam at the taste of his tongue and she wondered what the flavor of her moans and shivers was, because they just seemed to spur him on.
For one glorious moment, she had no doubts whatsoever. This was exactly what she wanted, the only thing she needed right now. She started unbuttoning her shirt with one hand, the other one tangling in his hair – there was no way she was letting him go. She failed to discern which one of them was setting the frantic, slightly desperate pace, but the prevailing emotion was just don't stop, don't ever stop, as he drew her bottom lip between his teeth, and that was it. Turning him around with the strength which was probably borrowed from the oncoming adrenaline rush, she felt his back smack against the wooden surface behind him, and she pulled his shirt out of his trousers. She slid her hand upwards, caressing his stomach with her fingertips.
He let out a soft, inarticulate growl, his muscles twitching beneath her dexterous fingers.
She wanted to feel more of his hands, but it seemed that standing upright wasn't doing him any favors, since his right hand was still clutching the cane. A brief inspection of her surroundings left a couple of options – the uncomfortable-looking couch (which was too far for her taste anyways), the floor, which was likely an agonizing solution for both of them (not exactly comfortable, and getting up would likely be an excruciating experience for him), and a round, slightly cluttered table. That might work.
She walked backwards, pulling at his shirt, using her most inviting smile to lure him in. It proved effective, because she could see his eyes wandering. Even though she usually didn't appreciate men undressing her with their eyes (hands were much more efficient, especially his), the scalding feel of his gaze left her lips tingling. It was unbearably warm in the room, and she threw her shirt away. The tank top wasn't a priority, so she let it be, going for the button of her jeans, all of it without stopping the pull. He followed her lead well enough, his left hand grasping her hip, moving to her waist as she tried to shimmy out of the annoying garment. Damn it, why were they skin-tight? So frickin' impractical.
The bump to her thighs alerted her to the fact that they had arrived to the table, and she moved the stuff aside with a quick swipe of her hand, knocking some papers and candlesticks off of it in the process.
"Careful there, pet." He chided gently, but she didn't give a damn – he used it, the word they agreed upon, a nickname that belonged only to her, and damn did it feel good, making her responsive in the most obscene ways.
"I don't care if I break anything, I ain't paying for it."
"We could always discuss…" The way he paused for effect, licking his upper lip, made her go crazy with need, "different forms of payment."
"Only if it involves this." She said breathlessly, pulling him on top of her. The cane clattered on the floor, and he leaned heavily on his hands, hovering above her, looking like he had a million ideas about what to do with her, to her, but had trouble deciding where to begin.
She squirmed underneath him, pushing her red hipster panties lower, and shuddered as he whispered hotly into her hair: "Deal."
The word had no business being so arousing, and by all accounts, it should probably have been a turn-off, but that wasn't the case. He pulled away from her, and she wanted to yank him right back, but refrained when she saw the way he was staring at her - like she was the best thing he'd ever seen in his entire life. There was just enough of a daze to his look, and he seemed momentarily mesmerized by the sight of her, which forced her heart to beat even faster, until it was pounding against her chest like it wanted to break free of her ribcage. With one hand, he pushed her knees to her chest, exposing her most intimate part for his viewing pleasure, which made her let out a soft groan of surprise and nearly indecent approval.
This position was a first, and she didn't know what to expect, more torture or perhaps he'd spare her and just sate the need she felt without trying to draw it out until her mind was on the brink of destruction. The back of her head hit the table as the feeling of his fingers sliding in crashed against her. She remembered this from Saturday; it was the image which was the most persistent, replaying in her head at least five times a day ever since, breaking her calm and composure each and every time. The tension was unbearable, building up way too fast for her to process, and before she knew it, she was gasping for breath, every muscle in her body fighting entirely contradicting states – rigid to the point of brittleness, and, at the same time, limp like a ribbon of softest silk.
She felt dizzy, half-blind from shutting her eyes too tight. He wasn't touching her, and that had to be rectified.
"Come back…" What should have been a demand, came out as more of a plea, and suddenly, she felt him shifting above her, his voice no more than a soft murmur: "I'm right here, pet…"
His reassurance made her want to cry. Why did it mean so much? It shouldn't, not in her post-climax high, she should be deliriously satisfied and blank, but she was just delirious instead, clinging to his shoulders like she needed to make sure that he was still there, that she didn't end up killing him in that stupid car accident, that he was here to stay, grounding her, real and tangible and warm and hers.
"Take me…" She called out to him, trying to pull him closer, feeling his hair under her fingers. His outline was a blur, and she couldn't see a thing, the world was just a big swirl of despair, and she was clinging to the only thing which shone in the darkness, a guiding star, or perhaps it was the tiny flickering light thingy that deep-sea fish had dangling from their heads – a lure for unsuspecting prey, but she cared little at this point, because he was there, his skin burning hot and slightly sweaty under her hands, and in this all-consuming darkness, it was enough. It was everything.
Without a single word, he buried himself deep inside of her, coaxing the most dissolute of sounds from her throat. Her spine was starting to hurt, and so were her legs, still crushed against her chest, but the opposing sensations of alternating pain and pleasure spun her mind around like that magnetically propelled thing made by Tesla or whoever, or whatever it was, God knows she was always rubbish at physics, but it felt so good that it made her forget about the rest of the world, numbing even her mind until it shut down, leaving her body to cope with all the sensations on its own.
She was getting dangerously close as he picked up the pace, and felt a droplet of water fall on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, trying to focus on his face which revealed nothing except intense concentration, and she realized that he was perspiring, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He was squinting, and she brushed her palm against his furrowed brow to stop the sweat from getting into his eyes. Their gazes locked, and she was immediately drawn into the depths of his tea-colored eyes.
Why tea?
She wasn't sure, but one thing was for certain - his irises weren't dull, weren't static, their surface rippled and swirled, reflecting the surface light, bouncing off the gleaming surface on their bottom and she couldn't look away. There was something about his eyes, shimmering on the other side, hidden behind the fluttering curtains, and she could swear that they were parting for her, allowing her a generously long glimpse into his soul.
There was warmth in there. It wasn't a blazing sort of searing heat, more of a subtle undertone. Yes, his eyes were gentle somehow, like the comforting arms of a lover.
That's what he was now, not a one-night stand, nor a booty call, but a point slightly more fixed in time and space, resisting the ebb and flow of the world which wanted to rip her away from the shore and drag her into the murky, icy-cold waters.
She dug her nails into his shoulders, moaning something unintelligible continuously, almost like a mantra. He kissed the corner of her mouth, and she had no idea whether it was on purpose, or just because he miscalculated the distance, but that simple contact made her tense up, and when his left hand brushed the side of her face, the pent up energy flared up, burst into a shower of brightly colored sparks, and she was left suspended in midair, in the middle of nothingness, her existence exuding waves of something indescribable.
His muscles went rigid under her touch, and she could feel him reaching his own climax as he shuddered in her arms.
Then, for but a moment, he rested against her shins, and despite everything, she felt whole again.
