by Hera August
The heel of a palm, hard but soothing, works its way up and down her back. Not wanting to, but unable to stop herself, she goes rigid, her defenses up. She wipes her wet nose and then her cheeks, apologizing before she even turns. “I'm sorry."
“Hey,” Judas says, brushing the veil of hair so he can see her face better. “Belle."
When her head remains down, he comes closer, twisting the chair so that she’s completely in front of him.
He never lets her hide.
“I was just upset... It’s no big deal," she croaks.
“Stop."
Her eyes peer up at him. “Stop what?"
He skims his thumb down the side of her forehead to her cheek, resting comfortably on the edge of her chin. “Stop pretending you're not hurt."
She nods. “I'm fine."
“Don't believe you.” His other hand comes up, cupping her shoulder. Judas’ expression mirrors her own—lost, but peacefully hungry in that state.
“Sorry.” Her tongue sweeps across her lower lip, the flesh begging for moisture from the cold.
Judas’ gaze strays lower, shadowing in a haze of distant want. “Don't be sorry."
Belle's effort to keep her head straight from swimming is half-hearted. “It’s just hard hearing his voice… It brings back all this pent-up… stuff."
“I promise it’ll be over soon."
The promise subsides the storm of emotion inside her, pressing it down until nothing is left but a whisper, “I know."
“It’s me who should be sorry."
The magnitude of his stare brings her to the edge of her seat. She leans closer, her forehead grazing his. “Don't be. You saved our lives. You saved mine... again."
His eyes smile down, twinkling like stars over moonlight. “That's not what you said before."
She can’t smile, can’t even breathe to make herself think. All she understands is that the pain inside her is vanishing and is being replaced by something violent, overpowering, plowing everything else aside. “Things change."
The whirlwind sweeping through her reflects in his stare, overtaking him like he’s as much a victim to the magnetic pull between them as she is. “Yeah, they do."
“Judas,” she breathes in a warning, not sure who she’s speaking to.
The back of his knuckles slowly trace across the span of her skin, each knuckle, rough and weathered, ignites a flame underneath in its leave.
“Can you…?” Her full mouth opens then shuts.
“Belle.” His eyes close and his other hand tightens over her chin. “I can make you forget.”
Arching her back, and leaning up to meet him, the dark desire that’s swelling inside her, echoes in his words. Helpless against his power, she lets him kiss her, long, soft and deep. He kisses her with care, with unleashed recklessness. Discovering and frantic, their gasps mount over one another, each one more stunned and destroyed than the next.
Wrapping his arms around her whole back, Judas lifts her off the seat and her legs lock around his tight torso. Their kisses never break, never retire from their starving pace of need, as they feed off one another, get so lost and so tangled, that somewhere along the way, without their knowledge, they find themselves in one another.
SHE UNDERSTANDS NOW.
Her whole life has been a prelude to this moment.
Wrapped up so tight in the warm safety of arms and legs, breath and hands, small figments and fragments that all piece together, Belle frees herself.
It’s always in those quiet rumbling seconds where Judas first touches her that always sends her excuses away, never to be seen again. Now she revels in their departure; happy for once that her brain ceases from its rampant upheaval, easing her soul and letting her banquet in the glory of this fanciful-like dream.
It’s raining outside. But neither of them have noticed. Neither of them care to even step out of the sweet enclosed space of the living-room. Life and time have come to a stop, obliging their need to just be. Damning their futures, the inevitable breaking of their hearts, they pretend nothing else exists but this enclosed break of time. This is their life, right in this second of kissing and hot murmurs. Everything else can wait.
They’re lying on the couch. Practically naked. Belle, in only her sweatpants, and him, in just jeans. Judas is over her, into her; his body, his skin, a patchwork of his and her flesh. He kisses her, hard, deeper, ordering for further access that Belle isn’t sure is possible to give. She remains shaky under him, still in awe to his large masculine form and how his vast presence compromises all her goodness.
Judas’ hand dashes out, cups her head that’s laying on the pillow behind her and draws her to him, crushing her face to his, suspending her face and his in midair, like they’re frozen together, locked in that sensation and moment.
His enduring need for her seems never-ending. Nothing is able to satisfy or sedate it. The man is wild. A vessel of white-hot lust. Insatiable. The past twenty-four hours only being filled with kissing, intimate touches, whispers, only breaking for food and minor necessitates. Judas has become her world, filling her vision, the start and stop of every thought. It scares her, excites her.
It shakes her to the very essence of her soul.
Her moan turns urgent, “Judas...” His mouth is greedy as it delves, sinking into her with open kisses that suck the breath from her lungs, sending her back down to the couch and taking him with her.
Her whole body flowers open, inviting him in. Her legs trap around his, the heels of her feet dig into the back of his knees. His hands glide between her face and body, going back and forth as though both feel too good to choose. Her head shifts from the side, facing him, taking his mouth in hers. The tip of her tongue traces the outlining of his bottom lip, then the open space of his mouth, lapping out in a roll that calls for him but finds empty. She stretches up farther, gliding her tongue across the bottom row of teeth, then the top, waiting for him to meet her blatant proposal.
She feels his body hold off a bit, linger, as he watches the begging state of her body groaning. Being servant to his will, her fingernails bury themselves into his scalp and the back of his neck. Belle is half-crazed, her brain melting with desire.
Patiently, with intentional exaggeration, his tongue, coarse and slick, finds hers, conquers hers down from her fumbling pause into her mouth and drinks from her. First in slow, soft strokes, then in arrogant strokes that heighten the sensations in her to the point of total submission; until all she feels is the wetness between her legs, the shake of her shoulders, and the brush of fiery wings low in her belly.
His right hand slowly drifts down, melding her breast; the mass of his hand devours the round jiggling flesh. The pad of his thumb lands right on her nipple, but he doesn’t skim the aching bud, just stays planted there, waiting, burning a hole with the weight of his finger as Belle arches her back and moans into his mouth.
He squeezes, possessively. “You make me wanna do things I’ve never done before…” Judas groans throatily.
Instead of continuing in his taunting clutches, his hand skates down, the weathered tips of his fingers brushing across her naked tummy like a rocket of fire, before continuing the journey down, untying her pants in one, quick jot.
Awaiting and careful, his hand glides across her stomach, setting the touch of him on her skin in its place. His fingers slip between the crease of her pants, in and out, touch and go, breezing like electric feathers over her body. She bites her lip as Judas looks down, entranced, as though he’ll die if he doesn’t go inside her soon; embed so deep, she’ll be sweating and gasping under him.
“Judas,” she whimpers in her throat, “please." The diving exploration of his kiss freezes and shatters. Judas doesn’t move, doesn’t back away like Belle expects. He remains just as close as if he’s kissing her. But he isn’t. His breathing becomes ragged as it falls across her still open mouth. “Judas.” She licks her lips, making him groan as his forehead leans into hers. “Make love to me again.”
Judas wants her.
She wants everything with him.
Her hand comes up, sheltering his cheek with it, wanting to comfort him, but not knowing what it will take to release him of his commitment to maintain a certain distance between them.
“Judas.” She kisses the corner of his mouth. “It's okay. I know now what I want."
His head waves, dismissing her sentiment and the unconscious incitement that it carries beneath it. “You don't know what you're saying," he lightly rasps into her ear.
“Yes. I do." His body seems to be stuck on her, craving the taste and feel of her.
“Belle. I won’t do this.” His swollen mouth lingers over hers. “I can't."
“Why? I want to.” Belle's graceful caress seems to burn his thinking, almost banishing his steel restraint. “I need you—”
“Shssh.”
He kisses her, the center of his mouth puckering out to press gently against hers. Then he is up and away from her. His warmth gone, vanishing, leaving only the raging ghost of his penetrating self. She breathes a few deep breaths.
“I thought you wanted this… wanted me… I thought…"
“I do,” Judas says in a ragged breath. He leans in her direction, his arm coming up to lay around the back of the couch. His voice is deep, a caving mystery, “I do, Belle."
She sits up, leaning on her elbows, peering at him through filmed eyes. Using her elbows, she voyages the rest of the way up. Her bottom slides up as her arms circle her bent legs that come to rest against her heaving chest.
“Then why are you holding back with me?" she asks, pulling her white undershirt over her head.
His eyes stab truthfully into hers. “I'm not," he mutters.
“You're afraid."
A playful, almost sinful smirk tugs at his lips. “The last thing I feel around you is fear."
“Then what is it?” His silence pushes more distance between them. “This can’t be forever, I get that. I can live with that, Judas." Her insecurity claws for release as heat stampedes her cheeks. “Unless… I know I'm not as experienced as the other women you've been with…"
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Suddenly she can read everything Judas is feeling. His hurt, his anger, the direct hit she’s just slapped across his face.
“You think that?” he accuses with a hooded brow, but speaks the words as a question.
“I don't know what to think,” Belle explains, weakly. “Why are you holding back?"
“I don't want to hurt you, is that so wrong?” he says, his voice gruff. “For once in my goddamn life I'm trying to do the right thing."
Belle shakes her head lightly. “Right thing…? How? I want to be with you. If this is our time, if we only have one chance then—”
“That's not a good reason!” he roars. “You don't jump into something just because you think it might be gone the next minute!"
“But it will be!” she yells back. “All this will. There is no ‘if’…” Her voice echoes hollowly in the air. “I don’t want to hide from you, Judas,” she murmurs. “Never with you.”
The silence gathers and escalates between them, parting them in two separate directions. Head hung, Judas looks away from her, but as though the rise of his emotions has a mind of its own, they finally break and bridge the small gap.
“I want you,” he confesses, under the breath of his words. She hardly hears him, but it feels like he’s screaming it to her. “I want you so bad it’s killing me inside.” She can feel his body trembling, crumpling beneath. Lustful agony scorches through her skin at his poignant want. “The things I’ve done… I fucking hate myself!” he thunders.
“Judas—”
“There. You satisfied?” He stands, but Belle for once is faster, shooting up and blockading his attempt to escape her. She ignores the dizziness it brings.
“No."
“What?” he mutters. His hands come up, agitated.
“No.” Belle swallows, laying her hand in the middle of his bare chest and pressing her fingertips where she can feel his heartbeat—erratic, like a wild drumbeat against her skin. “No, I'm not satisfied. Only you can…" Her fight is a lost one and she hesitates, tipping her head up as she moves closer. “…satisfy me.”
Drawing in a steady breath, he asks, “Why do you want me knowing this can’t last... after what I did, what I've done?”
“You’re beautiful Judas—I don’t mean physically. I mean…” She presses her hand further into his chest. Over his heart. “…here.”
His jaw tightens and stares down at her with tortured blue eyes as he murmurs, “The things I’ve done—”
“I've seen the good things you’ve done,” she says, determined.
“Doesn’t outweigh the bad I’ve inflicted,” he says in breathless anger.
“It’s enough.”
His hand clenches and his eyes narrow. “I won’t sleep with you again,” he says, tersely. “I’m rotten—”
“No, you’re not, Judas,” she shoots back. Her hand caresses upwards, along his neck, across his jaw, and cups the side of his face. “Listen to me. Would a bad person save me?” His head angles down as though her words torment him. “Tell me, if you’re so bad, why did you save me and my family from Mr. Kulich? Risk everything?” He doesn’t say or do anything. “Tell me!” she roars.
He finally raises his head, but doesn’t quite look at her. His usual icy-blue eyes look like they’re made from glass.
Tears.
Tears that haven’t fallen yet.
Judas Bane, the heartless killer of a crime lord… bleeds for her.
“I owed you my life,” he murmurs, his face tight.
“No, you think a bad person would care if I’d saved them or not? Doesn’t that tell you something about yourself? Stop fighting the truth. There’s more to it than that and you know it.”
He hardens his voice, “There is nothing more.”
“Yes there is.” She moves her free hand to cup the other side of his face, pulling his head to hers, and looks straight into his devastatingly blue eyes. “Look at me. I’ve seen you, Judas. Seen you like you saw me once. You can’t hide from me either. God knows I'm an expert at hiding from the world, so I know when someone else is doing it. You’ve sacrificed yourself for me. You just need someone to have a little faith in you. Let me be the one. Judas, you’re a good person. Deep down.”
“Don’t,” he strains out through clenched teeth.
“You are,” she says, unable to hide the trembling in her voice. “You don’t think you deserve happiness.”
“I don’t,” he whispers angrily.
“Yes, you do!”
“I’ll only drag you to Hell!” he thunders into her face, his chest heaving. She flinches back from his dark temper, severing any connection they had. She can’t win with him.
The militant hold slips a little, his voice husky as he peers down at her. “I'm trying to protect you.” The soothing quality of his voice descends on her just as his warm palms wrap around her waist and gently squeeze the tension away. “Can't you see that?" He presses his forehead against hers, his face anxious. Torn.
“No, you’re a coward.” She juts her hips back, hoping he'll receive the not-to-subtle gesture and remove his hands. “Evil is not who you are. It’s a choice. With me, you chose to be good—”
“Belle,” he warns, refusing to let her go.
She doesn’t move and neither does he. His body is still barricaded against hers. The heat of him is filtering though her, making her dizzy for sleep again. It’s weakening and dousing like he has some natural elixir seeping from him to her, making her stay in place when she wants to remove herself more than anything.
Judas closes his eyes. She doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or not, but she fights the instinct to shut down and
hide away. Judas finally opens them with a heavy sigh, placing them fully on her with a focus that makes her squirm. “Belle,” he murmurs, with brutal softness, “I'm doing this for you. I don't want you to regret anything."
“I won't."
“Or hate me.” Her strength of desire falls empty on his ears and yanks hard at her heart. He shakes his head as though fighting himself of what he needs. “I thought I was just like them… I thought I could take what I wanted from you and throw you away after… But it’s the last thing I want now... I can’t be like them…”
“Like whom?” she asks, desperate.
“Another piece-of-shit who uses you then walks away. You’re too precious for my world, Belle. I could never live with myself if I… broke you."
“I could never—"
“Don't,” he whispers harshly. “You hated me before.”
“That’s not fair, Judas.” She whips around, turning her back to him. “God, I was too stupid to ever think—"
“Belle…” He grabs her again, forcing her to face him. “I can make it up to you.” He brushes his hand up her arm and caresses her neck. “You know I can." His tone becomes gruff, making her flesh tingle in between her legs. But she can’t allow herself to follow a dead-end path.
“Just stop,” she snaps, holding her hand up in between their bodies. “I’m not getting through to you, am I?” she chokes, the lump in her throat threatening to consume her. “I… just… I need some space.” Taking a step back, she wraps her arms around her chest, her breasts visible through the sheer fabric of the undershirt. Judas reaches out to grab her, but the effort isn’t enough to catch her as she moves away. His brow curls, his eyes darken, watching her.
“Belle." God, why does he have to sound like that—all guttural? Every word feels like a hook is reaching down his throat and ripping at his intestines. It confuses her. He confuses her.
She shuts her eyes for a second, licks her parched lips. “When am I leaving?"
Clearly unprepared for that swift turn in direction, Judas’ mouth slits open, his eyes widening, then squinting. “What does that have to do with what we're talking about?"
“I want to know. I miss my family.” Her answer is stiff, holding herself in place inside. Protecting herself. “It's soon right?"
