AI The door creaked open. Lucien stood on the other side, one hand on his cane, the other in the pocket of his wool overcoat. "We need to talk, Rory." His voice was calm, almost formal. But there were cracks in the surface. Tension in his angled shoulders. Whey I didn't invite you inside, but he slipped into the cramped entranceway anyway, forcing me to back up. Ptolemy meowed disapprovingly from under the kitchen table.
I crossed my arms tightly . "That's what I said last time. And the time before that." Memories flashed through my mind yello. His teasing baritone. The charade. Against my will, my lips curled at the edge of my mouth. Then I remembered the rest. The smashed flowers. The brutal parting words. My fingers tightened around the metal doorknob. I wasn't letting him in again. "This is your second try. I already said no."
His jaw tightened. It rivalled mine. "I know. But you won't pick up the phone and I have important information about your case." He jangled something metallic in his pocket. "It's solid this time." His stormy gaze fixed on me. "You're lucky I'm the one bringing it to you. Others would've thrown this material straight into the fire."
It was hard to reconcile this Lucie with the one from my memories. The charismatic con man. The man who made my flat a jumble of soft corners and rumpled sheets. Or maybe I didn't want to. He was too dangerous as it was, in my home and in my mind. The thought of his hands running over my skin, his tongue against my collarbone, the rumbling chuckle against my ribs, the way his body blanketed mine perfected in the morning outdoors...
I shook my head, trying to expel the vibe from my mind. It was too risky, seeing him again, after everything. And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was exactly what I needed. This case, this informant... it all felt too big, too complicated for me to solve alone. Even if it meant welcoming Lucien into my space and my world again, Luicne was my only key to victory.
But I couldn't let him off that easy. Not after last time. "I'm listening. But you're not coming in. I'll meet you in the bar around the corner. Silas owes me a few nights of free drinks." I pulled my black velvet coat off the rack and shrugged it on. My hand brushed against his chest as I shoved him aside to slip past. I could feel the heat of his skin through the wool and cashmere. The memory pooled through me, yello as the aftershocks, then unpleasant... Indicatives of that late night tumbled against me like atheroscleiosis bubbles.
The sharp zip of Lucien's eyes followed my every movement. "Fine, the bar. I wouldn't think you'd be too fanciful tonight, Malphora. Afraid of the closeness?" My pulse quickened . The barroom lights glimmered around my fingers as I fumbled with the envelope he'd slid my way. Lucien leaned closer, his aftershave invading my senses. "Things will be different between us, you know. There's no denying the way our bodies move together. Our minds align." He echoed my own sentence from hours ago, when things had just devolved. Partial red velvet curtains encircled us, ephemeral sound from the neighborhood, the scent of home brew in the air. But something about this moment felt different. The air too heavy with unspoken tension . Lucien's gaze was too intense, focused. I shivered, acutely aware of his hand, of the warmth radiating through his suit jacket.
"This doesn't change anything," I said, my voice a strange kind of firmer . "We're strangers."
Lucien flicked a piece of lint off his shoulder, pretending to brush off my comment. "Is that what you prefer?" When I didn't respond, he held up his hands in surrender. "Have it your way. Peaceful partners, to complete this mission. Although..." His voice lightened into a playful collapse. "I have a feeling that won't last. Once we find ourselves tangled in the dead and flopping of the bedroom again, I know the real Rory will show up."
I wanted to slap the nonchalance off his face. But deep down, I knew he was right. There was something inside me that yearned for him, despite the layers of anger and bitterness between us. Maybe it was the thrill of the chase. Or the electrifying way he looked at me like I was a puzzle he longed to decode. Or perhaps it was simply the magnetic pull of two souls, teetering on the edge of madness yet unable to turn away. The danger excited me.
I leaned forward, letting the curve of my lips lift playfully , snapped towards his. "You know, if you're so confident in our bedroom prowess, maybe you should remind me. Show me why I keep coming back for more."
Lucien's eyes widened , a hint of surprise cracking through his carefully cool facade . But the arena hunger gleaming in the corner of his mouth, he pulled me in and kissed me, hard and demanding, against the bar, jarred by his tongue delving into the taste of whiskey and longing. His hands roamed under my coat, fingertips grazing over the fabric of my dress until they found purchase on the flare of my hips. I gasped, arching into him, all thoughts of spite and retribution fleeting as I lost myself to the sensation of his touch.
When we finally broke apart, breathless and a little disheveled, Lucien rested his forehead against mine. "I missed you, Rory. More than I was willing to admit, even then."
I could have stonewalled it. Could've pushed him away and walked out, leaving those words hanging in the air like smoke. But in that moment, surrounded by the clatter of glasses and the low din of conversation, I knew I couldn't undo or hear more about it. Lucien had cracked open a doorway to my heart, and no amount of anger or hurt could close it again. All I could do was open the door, and see where it led us.
"I missed you too," I whispered, my lips brushing against his as I spoke . "Don't you dare make me regret this."
Lucien's eyes flashed, light and playful. "Wouldn't dream of it, partner. These lips were meant for recollections, not regrets."
And with that, he pulled me in for another kiss, sealing our pact. The bar swirled around us, a hazy jumble of patrons and liquor bottles, but in that fleeting moment, it felt as if the entire world had shrunk to just the two of us. A tangle of limbs, brushed lips, and clashing delights, each fighting for dominance. An all-encompassing, irresistible, all-consuming energy that both lit us up and terrified us, propelled us both by the motorcycle handlebars, toward a land unknown to us, the land of the compromised, struggling, holding on desperately to each other, for dear life, sloppy kisses in dark corners, against worn and grease screens, a cozy booth corner, unknown passers-by, the outside world faded and forgotten as Lucien whispered more along my jaw, forcing me to lean into the touch, the ghost of a chuckle against my earlobe.
"Well then, it looks like we're stuck with each other. ~"
We drunkenly stumbled to my flat, but barely made it through the front door before Lucien pressed me up against the wall, his mouth claiming mine in a wild, fevered tangle of tongues and teeth and uncontained desire . Everything dissolved as he walked us into me, bulldozing the coat rack and bookcases and who-knows-what-else out of the way. Hard and painful and really damn sexy, honestly. Usually I'd joke that this was just like old times, but fuck, old times had nothing on this. He had pulled me under, drowning me in him, his lips trailing over mine, sharp teeth grazing a trail up my neck until they found the crook of my throat. The yearning was all-consuming, his hands sliding under my dress as he ate me alive, murmuring between frantic, lush, rough kisses, like I was as feral as him, I wanted him.
Lucien pulled my hair back enough to tug my chin up and really slick into my mouth, pressing me deeper into the wall.
My dress crept down my hips to tangle around my feet. Nothing but lace from my ears to my ribs, his hot exhale between my cleavage, sharp teeth splitting me up the center. My hands slid up his grey flannel shirt, wrenching it open. Unable to contain the bruising pace of our bodies, we stripped each other off hurriedly, bodies fumbling for the closing of zippers, buttons and belts until we were only shirtless, bare legs, him still in his dark navy suit slacks, me in black lacy panties. Lucien bounced his suit pants from narrow hips, lowly groaning as I dug my fingers into his hair and ripped at his lips with my teeth, too rough, all mouth and sufficating, pressing into him lasciviously. I couldn't bring myself to be gentle, teeth and hips and shouting pulled close, hitting him back at every angle. Lucas' hands gripped and grabbed, forced new bruises to form, while his knees pushed at my core, forcing me to wrap a leg around him for leverage. He pushed into me, felt myself pulse against his cock, sucking on his own hands clutching. I screamed, he whispered into my ear laced with devilish intentions. Until we stole the oxygen from the room.
My head tipped back against the wall, the creak of the wood almost lost in the suction of us, my chin grazing the nape of his neck, the sting of his jaw stubble against my cheek, the soft yet desperate gasps of our shared breaths. He tongued rough circles down my neck, halting at my shoulder, making love to the small constellations of purple and blue irises rising, ready for bed. "Looks like I left my mark on you, after all. Looks kind of sexy, don't you think?"
I simply moaned in response, my hand traveling down to his straining cock, sliding through the length of him. He shuddered against me, trying to focus. "Choose," he said, his voice a sharp gasp tinged with lust, "halfway down the hall, or here."
"Here." I didn't hesitate. I needed Lucien now, everywhere, no more games. I wanted to mark my own territory, right here, right now.
He groaned, a deep, throaty sound that reverberated through his entire body. "As you wish, Malphora." And then he was on me, his hands gripping my thighs as he lifted me up and wrapped my legs around his waist. My back hit the wall hard, a picture frame rattling above us. Not a care to be found, traipsing in the tapestry of our past, present, and future. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, the sheer force of him consuming me. It was everything I had longed for and more, a dark, twisted dance .
Born in film noir, that was us. Evelyn wore a black costume, top with a deep throat slit, three-quarters long heavy black leather gloves, her face had a clean-shaven, brunette hair growing rigorously to her shoulders. Her lipstick famed red and dewy, her blue eyes smoky and penetrated. Sex on all fours, could've been an erotic beauty magazine cover. Could've been a rainy night film. As if there was a mist lenses rolled off the right side of her screen, where she simulated even more exotic scenes.
The contradictory relationship that plays out in front of us is that Evelyn had brash, calculated , nonchalant. Like a vice, policing all loose ends, with that honey tone from her lips. One that screamed "yes", but a "no" instinctively instinctive in the following. A mystery break, straight up porno. But her posture said "hand-heart hand's face mash", while her hips contorted to make shapes around Dieter's body, heaving. Which is to say Great-gaudy-evian was trying to impress.