A Moment of Surrender.
But you're breathing in my open mouth, the gun at my lips waiting to blow my brains out.
He had tried so very hard to be romantic.
A few short and mismatched candles sputtering at random intervals around the cabin. Their soft wavering flame only serving to amplify the low light and sink the tight twisting of her insides deeper in her gut.
He'd looked for her immediately at the sound of the hatch, his gaze breaking so completely from the page she was sure that he hadn't been reading it at all. His face searching hers for some hint, some sign, that she had decided against her faith and her better judgement. That she might try, for the slightest chance, to stay with him.
So, she turned her face to the floor as she shrugged off her jacket, laid it neatly over a chair by the table. Forced her focus to the slip of the lining beneath her fingers, the minute 'clink' of her bracelet against the hard wood of the seat. The almost bruised pain in the ball of her foot as she slipped off first one shoe and then the other. Lining them up neatly under the rungs of the chair for a moment more reprieve of the blue fire that threatened to burn through her skin until there was nothing left to conceal her from him. Edged her way to her place on his couch with a false ease, as if she had nothing of consequence to say.
He had settled his book, almost protectively across his lap, thumbing easy circles over her bare knee; raising tiny goosebumps as he waited, patiently, for her to speak.
She wished he wouldn't.
"Laura?"
And she shifted slightly in her seat, tucking her feet up under herself to face him better. Took his book with slow and purposeful hands and set it gently on the table beside a half glass of forgotten whiskey. Settling herself deliberately in its place instead.
"Laura?"
It was an old and familiar rhythm.
Snaking her fingers up under his jaw until they framed his face and pulled his mouth to hers.
Her preferred method of self-destruction.
It was as soft as she could stand, felt a sigh escape from his broad chest, his hands settling heavy over her hips, let her catch his lower lip between her teeth before pulling away.
"Laura?"
This was what he wanted. Wasn't it?
She was careful to watch the way his pupils blew wide as her hands skimmed back down his chest, lingering with careful sin over his want of her, cradled so enticingly between her open thighs.
A moment of surrender?
Heard his quick breath as she withdrew, only to skirt them up her own chest, offering herself to him, one button at a time.
She did not know if she wanted him to touch her, to invite him to examine what would take her from him. And let her eyes close as his warm hands eased her blouse off of her shoulders, spread possessively across the expanse of her back. Breathe deep against her collarbone, laid down the briefest kiss there before he forced her to meet his eyes. And she knew, she knew he could smell the cigarette smoke. Felt her eyes well at the thought of it.
"Laura-"
So, she silenced him the best way she knew how. Her tongue slid easily against his, tasting the smokey warmth of his liquor, knowing he could taste the bitter smoke on her.
"Is there any point… really? In trying?"
Carded her fingers through his hair, breaking away to fumble with the last of the brass buttons keeping his jacket closed.
"I'll talk about it, Bill, I promise… but not right now."
Stealing away any chance at protest with the seal of her mouth upon his and sighed in heavy relief when he did not deny her.
The last lingering remnants of the day brushed away with the strong, coarse sweep of his hands under her thighs. Her skirt bunched beyond repair around her waist as he pressed her deeper into the cushions.
"Laura…There is either a point to everything, or there is no point to anything."
So long as his mouth traced in warm, meandering paths down the length of her jaw, nipped gently at her throat as if in tender offer to rip it out. His hands splayed broad across her back, her belly, fingers dipping in gentle torment along the seam of her thigh. She could bear it; the weight of him. So long as the heat of his skin flushed her body warm, and the heady scent of what might have been home smothered her thoughts blank. Filled her space so completely there was room for nothing else.