The whole ride there my pulse is pounding. I want to leap across the center console and tackle him, making the space between us nonexistent. But I don't, I wait.
I've known Slade for quite a while, but in all that time, we've never gotten intimate. I was always holding myself back, unwilling to let our relationship go very far because of the fear that once I'd let myself go, that it'd be harder to pull away from him if he went back on his word.
And he, such a gentleman, has never tried to make me fall in love with him; never tempted or seduced me. Though I know, he loves me too and no doubt wants me as bad as I want him. He has only tried to be a better man for me. And really, that's all a girl can ask for.
Finally, after what seems like hours but is really only a few minutes, we pull up to an apartment complex. Slade parks and gives me a sideways look before he gets out that makes me feel like tearing his clothes off with my teeth. Rawr!
I take his hand and together we make our way to his room. He unlocks the door, then turns and with a grin, swiftly pulls me in. I laugh, kicking the door shut behind me.
We don't bother to turn on the light. We don't need it. The white curtains that cover the window to the right allow in a faint glow, just enough to see by in his dimly lit bedroom. He towers over me and I stand closer than I ever have to him, gazing into his eye as he gently runs his hands up my arms. Those hands that have killed hundreds, that have punched, tore, and fought, are as gentle as the wind when he touches me, as if I'm made of glass. Finally, they rest at the back of my neck. I bite my lip as I stare up at him. Then Slade leans in and kisses me. His lips, those lips that I've been dreaming about, finally have found their way to me. The kiss is soft, delicate and yet breathtaking; my heart is beating so loud I feel like I must be shaking.
When he pulls away, I tip forward, chasing after his lips. I open my eyes and gaze up at him; his eye is hooded and dark, his mouth slightly open. I reach up, grab his tie, and pull him in again, this time the kiss harder and sloppier. All I want is more, more, more of him. I moan as I tug at his tie and break away just long enough to pull it over his head. He pulls out his shirt from his pants as he brushes his lips across my neck, and I, with nervous and eager fingers, unbutton his shirt and strip it away.
In front of me is his exposed chest, hard and sculpted. I run my hands up it until I find the thin swath of chest hair that traversed his pecks. I stop there, my right hand finding his heartbeat. In turn, his hands rove down my waist and settle at my curves, then pull me as close to him as I can get.
Then he delicately pulls the cardigan from my shoulders and drops it to the floor.
"Sla—" I'm interrupted by his deep kiss, breathtaking and wild.
When he pulls away, I lose any control I once had and can't seem to pull off my shirt fast enough before we go tumbling towards the bed.
"Oh, Chastity," He groans, between kisses, as I stretch out on my back and he leans over me, dark and powerful. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this."
I smile and slowly work kisses all over his jaw line, which is strong, but surprisingly soft. I've been waiting too, Slade. I run my fingers over his skin, warm and smooth beneath my touch.
Then I open my eyes and stare at his face, and there, smooth and dark, is his eye patch. I've always loved it, but now, for some reason, I feel as if it is masking him. Covering up a part of him I don't know. I part of him I want to see.
I reach up and run my fingers across the strap.
"What are you doing?" He asks, his face suddenly cautious.
"I want to see what it looks like underneath. I want to see you as you were. Before you became Deathstroke. When you were just Slade Wilson the mercenary."
He stares into my eyes for a moment, then swallows and looks away. "You won't like it, it's not pretty."
Well, that's not a no. So I don't reply, only catch the strap at the back of his head, and begin to work it up. When it's almost off, when I have only to lift it and reveal his eye, he closes his right eye and furrows his brow. I lift my arms.
My first reaction is shock. The eye is gone, not even a trace of it left. All that's left is a drooping eyelid and a surprisingly deep scar that comes from his lower eyelid to his cheekbone, something the eye patch disguised.
"It's okay if you're freaked out." He whispers, his voice husky and his other eye still closed with his brow tense, as if he doesn't want to see my expression.
"I'm not." I whisper. I reach my head up and gently press my lips to the eyelid that sags over his empty socket. I hear Slade take a sharp intake of breath. I pull away and when he opens his eye, his expression is of disbelief. I shake my head and gaze at him lovingly. "I will never be scared of you."
He exhales and it is as if a burden has left his shoulders. He runs a hand through by dark brown locks. "My Chastity, you are an angel that went through hell for me. That delivered me from that inferno. Do I really deserve all this?" He asks, his voice low.
"Slade." I cup the side of his face in my hand. "Everyone deserves a second chance. I'm just grateful that I met you."
"I am the luckiest man alive." He mutters, then he leans down and kisses me again.
And I melt into his body, at his every touch, at every kiss, taking everything he gives and absorbing it. Finally, I can give myself into him.
THE END