"Alec, what are you doing just standing around, get to work," Max scolds and her dark eyes meet his too briefly.

His green orbs penetrate her and it frightens the shit out of her. She knows he can read her, all the way into her soul. That he knows her better than she knows herself. And that if she let him, he would set her free; show her what it was like to dance above the clouds and have pleasure that was ripe for the taking.

-

Those ruby lips of hers mock him as her perfect pink tongue darts out to moisten them. He can think of nothing else but biting them and being satisfied by the gasps and moans of pleasure that would follow.

He is her victim. Her unwilling servant in an underworld, where freaks and fuck-ups run the streets biding their time until they are caught and sent back to their hellish existence.

He is a fool. He waits for her like a sick pervert as she doles out responsibilities and is only satisfied when she lashes him with her words, and lets him tag along.

He is needy. He waits for her praise but knows it will never come and wouldn't know what to do with it once she spoke it.

He can taste her in the air and feel her in his blood, but she will never be his. Not when he is so fucked up and she so aware.

He aches for her and it sickens him, like a sour note crushes an accomplished pianist. It twists and strains on his heart until he feels the beat speed against his chest and can do nothing but imagine her face as he takes his body to new planes. He's out of tune and out of curse words.

He thrives off the need to take her. To bury himself so deep inside that she becomes apart of him; tattooed as his.

He wishes he could stroke the soft skin of her thighs; watch her as she quivers and moans from his touch and then whimper when he withdraws. He wants it to be that easy.

It's her beauty that transcends his world and makes him feel like a fucking mortal while she is a goddess just visiting; just humouring him until something else, something greater, captures her attention.

And one day she will recognize that he is not all savage. That he can be an ugly beast, but he hides what's in his heart. She'll see that he fears for her and that he drowns himself so she won't know he hurts.

But before she sees, he must forget the nightmares that plague his nights and stitches his dreams.

Until he can be true to her, he only has himself.

On an anguished cry, her name, he lets himself go. It's oblivion. It's bliss.

____________


I disclaim.