A/N: I'm going insane... bear with me.
Tumultuous
Her legs straddle his chest; her perfect heart-shaped face leans in so close to his that it's a breath away from touch; and her hand is holding firmly onto a knife that is pressed against his neck, right next to the jugulars. This position is just way too familiar, and he doesn't know whether he feels fear or arousal. He thinks it's the latter.
"Answer me, Cajun. What the hell do ya think you're doing back here?" She snarls her question again.
"Been missing dis, chere." He responds suggestively while his hands inch closer to her butt.
"Ya move those damn hands any farther up and ah'll cut your throat." She threatens, pressing the blade slightly deeper, causing another drop of blood to grace the silver blade.
"Can see y' haven't changed, chere." He states, half-bitter because of her icy reception and half-relieved with knowing that something's never change.
"Can see ya haven't either. Now, are ya gonna give me a straight answer, or do ah get t'see how deep ah can cut ya before ya do?" She demands in such a harsh manner, that momentarily he remembers what excitement is again. Not wanting to lose the sensation, he lifts his head forward and presses his lips against hers. Startled by his unanticipated action, she is stiff on the receiving end, but as he kisses her more ravenously, she remembers what it feels like to be completely enamoured with another person and the ecstasy that comes with it. Dropping the knife, she kisses him deeper while she runs her fingers through his hair. His hand has crept from her butt to her hips as he pulls her down to him so he can feel the warmth of her body against his.
"It's been too damn long, Rogue..." He murmurs in between their kisses.
"Just shut the fuck up, Cajun, before ah come to my senses." She replies as her hands dive underneath his shirt and trace the lines of his well-defined muscles.
"I want y', Rogue. Right here...right now." He mumbles. It will be the exact opposite of what she wants to hear though, as she pulls away from him immediately and gets up.
He follows her and gets up from the floor as well. He isn't surprised by her action the least bit. A part of him expects it. A part of him wants her to stop before they start this tumultuous road that will undoubtedly lead to one of them killing the other if they're not careful. But he can't help gazing at her longingly, trying to read her thoughts and figure out what she wants; though, he has never been able to do so then, nor does he expects to able to do so now.
She does the same to him as well. The way his lips thin out, the way his left nostril twitches ever so faintly, the way those ruby orbs burn into her very soul; she can tell you every single thing about his facial expressions and the many masks he wears, but she won't be able to tell you the one thing she has never been able to figure out about him and that is simply what he wants. More specifically, what he wants from her.
"This is a goddamn joke. Eight months... it's been eight damn months and ya walk in here like everything's the same." She begins and breaks the eye contact.
"Why do y' still live here like everything's de same?" He questions her and clearly hits a sore spot.
"Get the fuck out of here!" She yells and reaches for the knife again. She won't be so quick this time around as he lunges for it, and grabs it before she does. With adrenaline still coursing through her veins, she leaps at him from behind, but he manages to fling her onto the bed while pinning her down with him on top of her now.
"Seems de table has turned, cherie." He says cockily while he places the blade on her breastbone - where her very heart lays beneath it.
"Ah dare ya t'make a cut, Remy. Ain't like the physical pain will hurt as much as the emotional ones that ya have caused me. Do it, Remy. Make a scar that will only force me to remember what a goddamn prick ya are." She challenges, her eyes narrowed into slits that seem to hold only hatred for him.
Unable to stand the look of her eyes anymore, he throws the knife across the room. "Y' hurt me just as much as I hurt you." He states, opening the wounds that have never healed in either of them.
"Bullshit, Remy! Ya left me! Ya chose to leave me! This is all your doing." She hisses and elbows him off of her.
"I did de physical, you did de emotional." He states simply while rolling out of bed. His hand reaches into the inner pocket of his trench coat where his packet of cigarettes lies. Taking one out, he charges the end of it and smokes it while she glare at him from across the room.
"That's gonna kill ya." She says.
"Better dis than you." He replies and puffs out a smoke ring right in her direction.
"Why are ya here? Still haven't answered me." She demands impatiently with her arms crossed and her untrusting eyes shooting daggers at him.
"Missed your warmth, chere." He says sardonically.
"Ah fucking hate you." She responds angrily, while trying to subdue the urge to pounce him again but this time driving the knife into his heart.
"Ain't too fond of you at de moment eit'er." He states bitterly, while trying to restrain himself from grabbing her and showing her just how much he hurts too. An ironic laugh escapes him when he realizes that all this time of coveting the ability to feel again, it will be hatred, the least desirable, that consumes him first.
"Ah didn't ask ya t'come back here." She sneers.
"But looks like y' expected me too. Seems de room hasn't changed one bit in de last eight months." He says while his eyes stare at his mug that still sits on the table next to his side of the bed.
"Ah don't clean up after your shit then, nor do ah do so now." She states coldly.
"Maybe dat's de problem, Rogue. We were too busy covering our own asses dat we forgot about caring for each ot'er." He suggests the truth that she will instantly oppose.
"Remy.., ya were too busy covering your own ass t'care about me. Ya left me. Ya wanted out. Ya got out, regardless of me. It has always been you, not me." She says in a low calm manner that sends chills up his spine. He has forgotten how her words can simply make him feel a mixture of fear, hatred, and desire all at once – so entangled with each other that he isn't even sure if the sensation is possible.
"Fuck de bullshit, Rogue. Y' didn't want to commit t'me just as much as I didn't want t'commit to you. I just had de balls t'finally get and leave dis fucked-up relationship!" He yells at her, while the emotions suppressed in his black heart finally unleashes.
"Ya always think it's as easy as that! Ya always think that whatever the fuck you feel must be what the hell ah feel as well! Ya always pretend to know me. Ya pretend to know everything that's about me! When are ya gonna wake up and realize that for the year we were together, ya didn't know a goddamn thing about me and that is why ya chose to get up and leave? When are ya gonna finally accept the fact that why this relationship is so fucked-up was because ya were too damn scared t' learn who ah am?" She cries at him.
"And what about you, Rogue? Y' think y' know everyt'ing about me? Y' think you have dis all figured out! Dat y' can see me for everyt'ing I am? Y' didn't know a goddamn t'ing about me eit'er! Y' didn't bot'er to learn! And y' say y'love me yet you don't even understand de first t'ing about me. What kind of love is dat, Rogue? How can I accept a love dat holds no understanding - no knowledge of de man I am?" He barks at her, enraged that she is trying to put the blame on him.
"How the hell am ah supposed t'understand ya if ya didn't even let me?!" She shouts at him exasperatedly.
"How de hell am I supposed t'know y' when y' don' tell me anything about y'?" He questions, more calmly than she does since he recognizes it now. A second later, she does too. Their hatred is based on nothing, just like their love. But it won't stop her from using the feeling in vain.
"Ah hate ya for doing this to me!" She cries out of frustration as she reaches for his cup and throws it at him. He ducks just in time as the cup misses his head by only an inch. He notices that she's eyeing the knife again, but before he can even register his next move, she has it in her hand and she charges at him. He slides out of her way so she whizzes past him. However, he will grab her from behind and clasp his hands firmly on her abdominal. She struggles within his grasp but he merely holds her tighter to him.
"Ah hate ya for coming back here! Ah hate ya for screwing wit' mah mind again! Ah hate you, Remy! Ah hate you!" She cries incoherently as angry hurt tears flow out of her eyes.
"I know y' do... but de problem is, y' love me just as much as y' hate me." He says ever so softly, and she relents.
She drops the knife. He turns her around so she's facing him. He drowns in her pained loving eyes. She stares up into his incomprehensible red ones, and even though she still doesn't know what he's thinking or feeling, she can't help but miss the feeling of looking into his eyes. Her vulnerability gets the best of her and she pulls him down for a searing kiss. He lifts her up and places her on the bed gently, making an effort not to mar her even more than he has already done so.
He undresses her carefully.
She undresses him impatiently.
He has never felt this good to her.
She has never tasted so sweet to him.
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