The Fiery Sort of Obsessed
1037 Words
I swallowed hard, my chest heaving as I turned to the video again. It didn't look like a police report or a news video. It was just a personal video that seemed to have taken specifically for me.
"You... you did that for me?"
He leaned behind me, his hand dipping in the water. Slowly, he brought his fingers up and let the roses fall on my skin, his face nuzzling in the side of mine, his breaths hot against my skin, his chest heaving lightly.
He reached for my hand and held it tight, his lips brushing my skin, his presence setting me on fore, lighting up embers I had wrongfully assumed to be quenched.
"There is nothing I wouldn't do for you."
I turned, letting his forehead rest on mine, his lips a mere inch against mine. For some reason, I couldn't find guilt in me towards Damien. All I could see were the horrible things he could have done to me if Florian hadn't been there. Violating my body. Trampling on my will. Ruining my life. f*****g with my mind.
He would have ended me right there and then, and I would have had no means to escape. I would have been truly dirty. Truly ruined.
"Stop thinking about him," Florian whispered, his voice low. "He won't be leaving the hospital any time soon, and when he does, when he does, I will put him back in there for you. Over and over again. For conceiving the idea to hurt you. To touch you. He is never seeing walls that do not belong to a hospital."
I nodded, my hand resting on his shoulder, grabbing a handful of his shirt. "Yes, Florian."
He cupped my face, his eyes meeting mine, his orbs dark with so many things. The sort of things that devil sung at night. The sort of tune that had them scurrying for shelter.
"I hate the fear in your eyes. The tremble of your body."
I nodded, and he leaned in, kissing my face, my nose, my eyes, my lips, my shoulders. I felt like every kiss was a bandaid over the cracks of my soul, a balm over all of the wounds I have acquired so far.
"But I am here," he whispered, lightly biting down on my earlobe and sending ripples of pleasure through my skin.
"Am I going to stay here?" I asked, my voice shaky. "I don't want to ever..."
"Shhh... I would have had you stay with me even without this. This is home, can't you see? This room, this bath, that shelf, that closet... six years, I tended to it, waiting till you could see. It was your dream and what I was made for. It is why I have money that I will never be able to spend. It is why I live till right now. Because of you."
I met his eyes. They were the fiery sort of intense. The fiery sort of obsessed.
"It is my dream. How did you know, Florian?"
"I just did. And it made all the years worth it seeing you in here. It made it all worth it, watching you come back here at night. Your smile, the little dimple on the right edge of your lips..."
"What if I had gotten married? What if..."
"You wouldn't have," he said, his voice deep, husky, his breaths caressing my skin, his hands running up and down my neck and face. "At least not to a man who doesn't deserve you."
"Do you know of a man who does?" I asked, knowing exactly what the answer to that question was.
I guess this was how it was always going to end. With Florian Hunt. He had once been nothing but a dream. Now, he was the only reality I knew. The only reality that I could entertain.
"I will let you see for yourself, Roxanne."
Somehow, this was even better than him telling me that he thought he was that man. It gave me a sense of autonomy that almost everyone in my life had worked hard to snatch away from me, and I felt more powerful in my own decisions than I had ever felt.
"Thank you," I whispered, placing small, soft kisses on the edge of his jaw.
It was a peculiar position, but I remember all of those years ago when I had fantasized about his sharp jawline, wondering how it would feel against my lips if I ever got close enough to his calibre for him to let me kiss them.
He let out a small sigh of my name, his fingers slowly trailing down my spine, his lips slowly parting as he simply let me kiss him. He didn't force me or ask me to kiss anywhere else. Just let me take control of my own lips, letting my body do what it wanted.
When I let the screams from the video serve as a background for us as I pulled him closer, kissing his forehead gently, my finhers intertwined with his, tears running down my cheeks, he didn't stop me either.
It felt good to be in control when hours ago, it felt like I had been grasping at straws in desperation to regain the reigns of my life.
Now there I was, in a bath, the screams of the man who had toppled my life over serving as a healthy background as I kissed Florian on his knees. As I took my time living the fantasies that I had woven back then, while watching him from a distance.
I slowly leaned away and met his eyes, my breaths fast and hard. He let his hand slowly caress my face and run down with my damp hair.
"Do you want a change of water, or do you want me to take you to bed?"
I swallowed. "Take me to your bed, Florian. That is where I want to be right now."
He kissed my hand and pulled me into him, my body, damp and bare against him, wetting his obviously expensive shirt, but that, according to the look on his eyes, was the last thing he cared about.
I... I was the first.
- Writer
