Judas Bane

by Hera August

  For the next half-hour, Bane dominates every round, the whole club even, with his alpha-male presence. She watches, in awe, at the man who had come to mean so much to her. Somewhere between hiding from the world and a broken heart, Judas shifted from an intruder to a lover and then to someone who made a permanent fixture in her life. In her heart.

  A cheer goes up from the crowd as Bane shifts his weight and circles toward his opponent in the final round. Shadows from the beams above dance on his face.

  God, he is so breathtaking when he fights. His movements are graceful but explosive. Belle almost gets lightheaded from watching him, drinking in his whole package, drinking in his low-riding shorts that take all her attention to the prominent V-lines that dip right into where—

  Bane lunges, his fist catches Minotaur’s jaw. Bane is quick. Skillful. Strikingly impressive. Bane shoves his elbow into the other fighter’s chest who strikes out and punches, landing it on Bane’s jaw who reels back. But Bane lives up to his reputation; he recovers insanely fast.

  Bane grabs his opponent’s shoulders and slams him into the ring-floor, where he lands a few solid punches into Minotaur’s gut. Bane’s victory is so close as the other man seems to be quitting, but then, somehow, Minotaur forces himself out from under Bane and slams him into the ropes, wrapping his hands around Bane’s neck.

  Belle’s breath catches in her throat, but then Bane smirks, and before the crowd knows what’s happening, Bane swings his arms up and smacks them down on his opponent’s elbows, forcing Minotaur to let go. That’s when Bane goes in for the kill, punching him, hard, with his infamous Insane-Bane punch. Belle swears she hears the crunch. Blood sprays everywhere from Minotaur’s nose and he falls backwards. He doesn’t get up. Bane’s adoring fans go wild, chanting his name: Bane.

  Judas.

  He has become Belle’s constant, her reassurance; the one thing that she knows is going to be there when she wakes up in the morning. He is Judas, just Judas, and he is feeling everything she is feeling, walking the same steps with her. And just when she thinks she can't love the man anymore than she already does, she’s proven wrong. Her heart bleeds and her body aches to touch him. To be touched by him.

  Despite the crowd going crazy for him, he doesn’t stay and drink up the worshiping at his feet. Instead, he jumps out of the ring and heads straight for her.

  Every part of her—the nerve-endings, the tiny membranes attached to her thoughts, her every day emotions—are somehow connected to the man who dominates her sight at this moment.

  When she laughs, she feels him. When she cries, she feels him. When she wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming from her nightmares, scared and hurt with images of her and Emmett alone in the attic, Judas is always there to comfort her, telling her she's okay, and that if anyone is out to hurt her, they’ll have to go through him first.

  The image of Judas Bane sauntering toward her, his muscles even more defined and pumped from the fight, is so vivid, it robs the breath from her body, steals her sanity for a momentary lapse that is a moment too great to hold on to reality.

  She’s sure the girls behind her are shouting their undying love for him, but they’re just a buzzing noise in her ears now. She is completely captivated by Judas’ undeniable beauty and something wild and primitive tugs at her center. Her limbs seize in awe.

  Dripping with sweat, he looks incredibly hot. Fantasies of being wet against his slippery firm flesh infest her mind as beads of sweat trickle, slow and fast, down his body. She has to stifle the urge to run her tongue over each and every drop she can see on his sexy bronzed inked skin, when he finally reaches her.

  “You look stunning,” he says, breathless. He angles his head down, wraps his elbow around her neck and pulls her tightly to him. His hand strokes the side of her neck and she groans at the feel of his calloused hands. The pleasure of his touch and caress stimulates every nerve-sensory she has as his lips claim her like a raging storm.

  A few wolf-whistles holler out amongst the buzzing crowd. Suddenly, nothing matters, except this moment. Judas deepens the kiss, his hand moving to caress down along her spine with just the right amount of pressure to send her into ecstasy. He pulls away reluctantly, biting his lip.

  “I couldn’t focus on the fight with you teasing me in that... Jesus Christ, Belle. Every man is looking at you in that dress.”

  “Judas—”

  “Gimme ten minutes. Then we leave. Don’t know how much longer I can hold myself back from not fucking you right here.” She can only nod her reply, still on fire from the kiss.

  Once Judas showers and changes, they head out through the entrance on the first floor. They waste no time mounting his Dyna and riding into the night ahead.

  When they’re alone, the world falls away and they can just be. Together. Just like in the attic, when no-one was around and he’d finally gotten past her defenses; they had connected in a way that still lingers with her. There is no running from something that is unexplainable but senselessly real.

  And Judas Bane is her real.

  The obstacles, roadblocks, that deterred their bond, were inconsequential next to what they share now. From two different worlds, two different walks of life, with nothing in common but this fierce attraction, that somehow never would have happened if they’d met under any other circumstances.

  She was pure.

  He was so tainted.

  Maybe the line between their lives never should have been crossed, but Belle can’t regret him as much as he can’t regret her. Regretting him diminishes the effect he has on her life, the light and joy he brings, and that’s something not even death can force her on her knees to do. Judas draws out the soul in her, an element of her she never thought twice about bringing into existence.

  But that life, before Judas, is not the same life as now. Neither is she the same person. She is stronger, more capable, she doesn't hide behind her shyness, and she is no longer handcuffed to the shame her secrets from the past caused her for so many years.

  Judas keeps on riding until they reach the edge of the south coast. Helping her off the bike they walk, hand in hand, and amble up the mountain path.

  “Where are we going?” she asks.

  “Tate told me about this place. Babe, you’re gonna love it.”

  An unusual humming sound vibrates in the air. It sounds like a swarm of bees. Then the buzzing transfers to the rock beneath her feet. It travels through her body and she feels a tingle run up to her fingertips. When they round the corner, the source of the sound reveals itself. The view takes her breath away.

  “Judas… it’s beautiful.”

  He doesn’t take his eyes away from her when he replies, “It is.”

  It's an enchanting waterfall and at this distance, it looks like silver tear-tracks on the wrinkled face of the mountain. The Sun is only just setting and she can see the waterfall plunging into the depths of a paradise blue pool. As they begin to get closer, it growls and rumbles, its pounding strength reminding her of the man by her side.

  "Are we going in?" she asks.

  He just nods his reply with a cocky smile as he takes his boots and socks off. She steps out of her heels and begins to pull down her straps but Judas stops her. "No. That dress isn’t coming off. It's my right as champion to fuck the most beautiful woman in the world in the most beautiful dress—in paradise."

  God, this man is too much. It really turns her on when he takes charge of her, displaying his masculinity, his pure animal side. Her pulse leaps as something powerful sparks in his eyes and it rushes through her body like lightning.

  Judas takes off his leather jacket but keeps his white collared shirt and jeans on as they enter the pool and head toward the waterfall that foams into lather at the base. Placing his hands on a large rock behind the cataract, he leaps up before picking Belle up from the waist, bringing her to his side.

  The waterfall forms an impossibly gorgeous background to the impending lovemaking she's about to experience. From
here, the waterfall seems to fuse itself into distinct threads of watery fabric; it's as if a loom of liquid silver is pouring down the rocks. The sound is cacophonous now. The spout is hitting the cavernous hollow of the pool like a thunderclap. It rushes down the mountain, roiling and bubbling, boiling and churning, just like Belle's desire for Judas.

  He brings his elbow around the back of her neck, drawing her in for a primal kiss. When he pulls back, the world seems to spin a little.

  “One year,” he says, his hair dripping with water. She’s hearing what he’s saying, every syllable thrumming inside her body, knowing what’s coming next. His brooding eyes tell all.

  “One year,” she repeats, feeling the touch of his fingers trailing down her spine and over her buttocks.

  He leans into the base of her neck and trails soft kisses upward, until he reaches her ear and whispers, “I have something to show you.” His words tickle her and she feels hot sensations begin to burn between her thighs.

  He unbuttons his damp white shirt that clings to his body like a second skin, his rippled muscles straining through.

  “What is it, Judas?” She bites her bottom lip, a twinkle in her eye.

  “Look closer,” he says, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Can you see it?”

  She examines his body, licking her lips in anticipation of having this hard Adonis body pressed firmly up against her soon. And then she sees it.

  “No… Judas… I can’t believe you would…” Her smile is so wide, her cheeks begin to burn. She trails her fingers just under his ‘Olivia’ tattoo. In script, he’s had the words ‘Little Bit’ tattooed underneath his mother’s name.

  “There’s more,” he says, extending his arm out to her. There, on his wrist, another tattoo: ‘L.B’.

  “Little Bit?” she asks.

  “Love, Belle… and, yeah," he says, sounding pleased with himself, "Little Bit, as well.”

  She giggles, overwhelmed by his gesture. “Very clever, Judas. Not just a pretty face… You know, I don’t know if I like the reason you call me Little Bit.”

  “I lied.”

  “About what?” she asks, confused.

  “Why I call you Little Bit. Don’t get me wrong, you did annoy me at first and you still sometimes do, especially when you leave the cap off the toothpaste—”

  “Judas!” she says, slapping him playfully on the arm.

  “Belle…” His head angles close to her lips, his features turning serious. “You’re the little bit I never expected. The little bit I can’t live without.”

  His words fill her with goose-bumps as he plunges into her mouth. She moans and grips his shoulder, digging her nails in. His tongue delves hard against hers and sensations explode in her body. Groaning, he pulls away.

  “Why can’t I stop kissing you?” he asks, his dimples deepening.

  She feels her cheeks burn with a blush and looks down. “Maybe I should get a tattoo to... cover up my scar—”

  “No you won’t.”

  “You can’t tell me—”

  “To me, you're perfect. Especially..." he says, brushing his hand over her left breast. Her nipples pucker against the thin material of her dress, yearning for his touch as he circles, teasing, around her hardened tip. "...your scar.”

  Belle can't help but think about the night she danced with death. She'd had a small puncture in her heart and she lost a lot of blood, but they were able to get the bleeding under control and repair the damage in time. The small scar she bears on her chest at first horrified her. But Judas taught her to wear it with pride. It isn’t a reminder of Emmett abusing her. It’s a reminder that she is a survivor. A reminder of the night when she thought all hope was lost, but then Judas came crashing through all impossibility and saved her.

  No charges were made against Judas for killing Emmett Irving. The evidence was clear that Emmett had attempted to rape and murder Belle and that Judas killed in self-defense.

  Judas is staring, watching her like he always does, absorbed by her. “When you told me who you were—the girl from Providence Valley… Belle, when I killed that man who tried to hurt you… that was the last good deed I’d done. You were my chance—my only chance—to do something right for once.” His dripping wet chest rises and falls in a deep pant. “My redemption… You’re my forever, Little Bit.”

  He is so quick, Belle doesn’t even see him move.

  He pushes her up against the rock behind them, his lips crushing down on hers in a sensual bruising force that tangles them together, netting her mouth to his with each brutal gulp. His pelvis grinds into hers as his mouth opens and closes against her, both their gasps splitting in the air like charges of energy.

  His hands maul at her frantically, clasping at locks of hair, burying deep into her scalp to push her face closer and deepen the moist hungry kiss. She wants him to push more into her, feel his hard pectorals against her soft bare breasts. She tugs pieces of his hair and a raw groan rocks from her mouth to his as her middle grinds desperately into him.

  Their bodies smash mercilessly against one another; both their mouths turning sideways, ferociously seeking, as they sink into each other, advancing on one another with stalking gluttony.

  Judas’ appetency for her is limitless. Aggressive. He lowers his head eye level, dragging her mouth up and down, sucking on her bottom lip and nipping at the plump edge as she squirms for control, yanking his hair at the roots.

  He breaks away for a short second to see her ravenous sedated eyes pierce up at him, teasing him, and she feels his cock go steel-hard between them. His mouth takes and catches her lips, licks the slick walls inside her mouth then finds her tongue. He strokes her hard. There is no delicacy in each lap as the rough flat of him surges against her, moving like a possessed animal in heat.

  His hand latches on to the back of her knee, steering higher, deathly slow, as she moans into his mouth. His fingers slip under her dress and thong, cupping her bare ass and squeezing the soft flesh with eager appreciation as her groan flutters out louder, harsher. Her leg curls instinctively around his thigh, making the dress ride-up on her stomach. The fabric of his jeans heave into her soaked center, her body pawing at him like a starving animal, begging for relief.

  The grind of their bodies together is wild, unkempt, both turning each other on with each deep penetrating mill; the rock digs into the back of her thighs with each hard push and fall, but she doesn’t care.

  His teeth scrape down her chin, her neck, her whimper shattering into the air, growing shorter with each animalizing nick of his teeth. His mouth is everywhere, his tongue licking the bruises his fevered kisses have made.

  Judas tongues the slit of her cleavage and her center quivers in hot moist release. She encourages him further, pushing her shoulders back, as one aching tip pours out on its own, strained red and pointed.

  He doesn’t hesitate, stroking the hell out of the small berried nub, petting the point down into submission before sucking her in deep, gripping her ass tighter into him with each deep pinch of his closed-off mouth. He rubs his erection up and down, her clit throbbing out underneath, each nerve-ending aching in a torturous tingle.

  “Judas...” The word ripples from her mouth and he peers up, foggy, his stare eclipsing black as she bites her bottom lip with every suctioning fuse of his mouth. “Oh God, please!” She cries from the bottom of her stomach, clamping a hand on his neck and scratching at the skin as her head falls back.

  She has to have him inside of her. Now. Before she is undone.

  Bringing her other knee around so that her body straddles his, he lifts her up in one swift movement and settles her down on the rock above him.

  A soft flick of his mouth before he commands her, "Lie back for me," sends her reeling back and she lies against the cool, wet, surface underneath her.

  He can’t stop touching her, his kisses are gentler, worshiping, long damp strokes that have her legs spreading and welcoming him closer. His fingers crawl up her inner thig
h, a barely felt swoosh of callous skin. His index finger hooks on to the center of her saturated thong, grazing her clit and tearing at the flimsy fabric, which immediately shreds in his large hands.

  “Take me, Judas,” her unbridled cry splits into the air.

  A tormenting whine resonates in her chest, her body shudders in small aroused douses that make her limbs shake uncontrollably. He reaches out and yanks the dress down her chest in one hard whip, exposing her other breast.

  Blindly he goes to remove his jeans but when his fingers fumble in his rush, she lifts herself up and gently pushes his hands away, unabashedly staring up at him as she unbuttons them herself. Judas goes rigid over her, as though fueled to pin her down and fuck her senseless.

  She loosens his belt, each loop giving way to his feral desire. She is frantic now, trying to unloop the holes with wobbly fingers. Unable to stand there and watch, he helps, whipping the belt out and throwing it into the pool below.

  He gazes down at her as she waits, flushed, aroused and ready. Her deep sensual breaths full, her fleshly plump breasts lifting with each need for air, dying for him, aching for him.

  He rips off his shirt, and gripping behind both her knees, he pins her down against the surface of the rock. The uproar in his face, the reddening in his complexion, deepens, as she lies arched, her body curling in pleasure, already driving for the feel. He leans over her, uses the tip of his cock to taste the wetness of her inner thigh, then her damp folds.

  “Please… Judas… I'm begging you..."

  The strain of his shaft burgeons like tight fire against the nerves there. She remembers the exact texture of his large, full cock penetrating her sex, a warm suffocation. Riding on the compulsive burn of her memory, he leans one hand near her head and mutters—as though angry with something—against her lips, “Seven days too fucking long,” and enters her.

  And enters her again and again. Short undulating strides that are deliberately slow, each slick pump of his body drawn out as he parts her knees wider and she wraps her ankles high on his waist. A shadow over her, hungry for each and every reaction she awards him, he, as always, hunts for the ecstasy to glow across her face, reveling with each whimper she paws out.