nishka//loki (nishka) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-03-06 18:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | freyr, loki |
raw beauty is ruthless
Who: Nish & Rafael
What: Things fall apart.
Where: Nish's apartment
When: 6:30 p.m., Thursday, March 2nd
Rating: NC-17
Rafael expected her to be angry; or if not angry, then at least frustrated. The weekend prior he had canceled another date due to work. An interview had come up, an opportunity to promote his recent work with Johnny and Chad. He had not wanted to go, had not particularly wanted to give a single interview about it. But the film's studio was large and well known, the shoot stood to make him a great deal of money, and a little promotion for such a thing could go a long, long way. Simply put, it truly had been too good to pass up. But these were not things he could easily explain to the woman on the other side of the door. They were things he was not certain he even wanted her to know. So he held both his tongue and his knock at the door until he was sure he had collected himself, and then -- and only then -- did he knock, at let himself into her home.
"Nish?" he called. He shut the door closely behind him, then reached down to pet the cat that had appeared at his feet. "Hey, Bear."
She’d almost cancelled.
Last night she’d sat on the couch staring at the bag of white powder on the coffee table for over an hour before finally losing the battle. She hadn’t expected...just how powerful it would be after five years of being clean. That first line hit her like a tidal wave, and she spent the rest of the night there coasting on that sweet oblivion, and woke up the next morning still in her clothes from work, on the floor with a cat insistently pawing at her head. She hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time.
Today was brutal though. She had another meeting with her asshole client in the late afternoon, and she’d had to do another line in her office before leaving just to get through it. Sure, it was a little hard to sit still and focus, but her ‘give a shit’ had completely left her by then, making the meeting bearable. By dinner time she was starting to come down, but not so bad that she was jittery or despondent. She’d managed to cobble together a fairly easy recipe of lentil dal with brown rice and roasted cauliflower, so now her apartment smelled like an Indian restaurant and she was feeling rather pleased with herself. She watched Bear race to the door as soon as he heard the knock and smiled when she saw Rafe appear.
“Hey,” she greeted, setting down the tea towel she was holding and heading over to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips and smiling, “you came.” It might have sounded a little passive-aggressive, but her give-a-shit was still back in her office where she’d left it.
Rafael accepted the chastisement as his due. He returned the kiss, his hand sliding low around her back to pull her close. He tried to smile -- and felt it flagging -- as he released her, padding into the kitchen behind her, following the smells.
"What can I do?" he asked, pausing just before the stove. He looked around, trying to find something with which to busy himself, to make himself smaller and less noticeable in the wake of her prickly greeting.
She smirked a little at his routine question and turned away back to the kitchen. “You can eat...it’s ready,” she said, busying herself with dishing out rice and covering it with a healthy scoop of spicy lentils. “Ohh, wait,” she turned and pulled the yogurt out of the fridge. “I hope it’s okay, I think I made it a little too spicy,” she said, “but then you’re used to that, aren’t you? Is food from Brazil usually spicy? Or am I confusing that with Spain?” She licked off a little bit of sauce that landed on her hand, raising an eyebrow at him, “I hope this is okay, I found the recipe on Pinterest this afternoon. I’ve never made it before, but it sounded really good.”
"It smells really good," he said. "And I'm used to spicy, yes. I'm sure it's excellent."
He took a dish and utensils, and served himself. A small scoop of yogurt finished the plate. Then he moved to her table, taking care to step neatly around Bear. "You seem… cheerful," he decided, unsure even as he said it if that was the proper term for it.
She sat down across from him and started immediately playing with her food, realizing that she actually wasn’t all that hungry, but it did smell amazing. “Do I?” she asked, her thoughts racing in the few seconds she paused. “I guess so, I mean...I finally found a bit of direction in that case, so there’s that. The pre-trial is on Monday, and I think I’m actually ready for it. What’s it like in Brazil?” she asked out of nowhere. “California is the furthest south I’ve ever been...I bet it’s a lot warmer, or is it? Doesn’t it get colder the farther south of the equator you go? The south pole is just ice, right?” She finally paused to take a bite of her dinner, giving him a chance to pick something to respond to.
He blinked, blankly, carefully finishing the bite of lentils currently balancing on the end of his fork before beginning to speak. Her behavior, uncharacteristic as it was, lent itself to explanations Rafael found decidedly uncomfortable. He set down his fork, watching her closely.
"Are you alright, Nish? What's… what's going on?"
She frowned just slightly, just for a moment, looking at him like he was the one acting strange. “Nothing,” she said, smiling and hoping it sounded genuine. “Well, lots of things. There’s always something going on, right? I just...got tired of being depressed and conflicted and shit. I decided last night I was done with that. There are things that I just...can’t do anything about. I can get upset or I can just move on. That’s just life.” She ate some more dinner, pushing a piece of cauliflower restlessly around her plate and then looking back up at him when another thought surfaced. “Are you okay? I haven’t seen you in days,” she said, yet again calling attention to her solitary weekend without really meaning to.
He nodded, but there was an unusual hesitation in it. "I am…" But for all his agreeable gestures and words, he could not but be certain something else was going on. Nothing about her behavior backed up her reassurances. He had seen this attitude, this restlessness before, but not from her. It was unsettling. He put his hands flat atop the table, in part so they would not shake when he spoke.
"If you're angry with me, Nish, I wish you'd just tell me. I am sorry about this weekend. But I can't fix things if you keep pretending everything is alright."
She sighed and sat back, her smile souring just a little. “Alright, so I was pissed off with you for a bit, but it's not your fault, I get that. It's your job, and you can't say no to that any more than I could say no to defending a despicable asshole who makes me want to murder him every time I open the file.” She violently stabbed a piece of cauliflower on her plate, smirking a little as if what she'd said was amusing instead of disturbing. “But none of that matters now, right? You're here now, and that makes me happy.”
She paused for half a second and tried to reassure him with her eyes that were perhaps slightly unfocused. “I'm fine, really. We’re fine.”
Her expression fell far short of reassuring. He pushed away from the table, plainly unwilling to continue on as though everything was perfectly normal. Still his voice was soft, and calm, as he knew all too well how it felt to be on her side of this difficult conversation.
"I don't think we are fine," he said. "I didn't…" He pulled a hand through his hair. "I can't and won't make demands of you. I won't dig into your personal life. But I didn't know you were into…" He gestured at her, uncertain how to put this to words. "I didn't know you used. Please don't tell me you don't. This obviously isn't just… turning over a new leaf. I'm not stupid, Nish. And that… that changes things, for me."
She actually started to protest, to deny it, but for some reason she couldn’t. And for the first time since he got there, she had nothing to say. She hadn’t realized it was that obvious, and now the horrible feelings of guilt and embarrassment were starting to seriously mess up her good mood. Sudden anger flashed in its place, and her smile melted away. “Fine,” she muttered, getting up from the table, taking her dinner with her, barely touched, and started cleaning off her plate into the garbage. Obviously, dinner was over.
"You don't…" Rafael rose from the table, ignoring Bear's questioning mew. He left his plate where it lay; she would need to eat something, later, once her heart and stomach settled and she was back on this terrestrial plane. He followed her into the kitchen, worry darkening his ever-bright face. He reached out to her, his fingers light where they brushed over her arm. "Please don't do this, Nish. We said we'd be honest. Didn't we?"
His warmth invaded her skin and calmed her just a little. She sighed, head tilting back slightly, eyes briefly slipping closed. “It’s a crutch,” she said, “that’s all.” She finally met his eyes, turning so that she rested her hips against the counter behind her. “And I promise you it has nothing to do with you. I mean…” her hand lifted, pressing lightly against his chest. “You’re what’s keeping me going right now.”
’Him and drugs, right?’ she heard dimly.
’Well look who’s back,’ she answered. There was a sort of mental shrug, but the voice sounded distorted, like it was under water.
’You’re coming down, I can finally speak again.’ She allowed a wry smile.
’Noted.’ She focused back on Rafe.
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day; I thought it would have worn off by now, but It's been so long since I did anything...” she said with a slight apologetic shrug.
Rafael shook his head. For a time he said nothing, merely settling his hands at her hips, consoling himself with continued touch. He chewed his tongue, as though he might bite free the words that did not want to come. "A year or so ago," he said, "I had a problem. I've gotten out of it. I don't want to see you fall into that. And I… I can't go back to it. If you're going to do this, I can't tell you not to, but I can't be around you when you do." His hands squeezed her sides, reassuring himself they were both still present, still there with one another. "I'm sorry." She felt tears fill her eyes, reading between the lines of what he was saying.
“Please don’t go,” she murmured quietly, trying hard to keep from sounding desperate. “I won’t do it when you’re here, just...I need you.” She avoided his eyes, suddenly feeling vulnerable, terrified of losing him, her heart racing and her limbs itching to move, but she forced herself to stay still and quiet.
He sighed, and the small frown that curved his mouth made clear his decision was made. He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Need was such a difficult word, he thought. So loaded and dangerous. Between her earlier application of alcohol and this, Rafael found it difficult to ignore the steadily growing alarms in his head. But for now, at least, his heart spoke louder, and he merely slipped his arms tighter around her.
Her eyes closed when he kissed her, the tears in her eyes finally tracing their way down her cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face in his neck, clinging to him as if he’d let her go, sobbing softly with relief and other overwhelming emotions. After a moment of quiet she moved, pressing a kiss to his neck, and then another, and another, each becoming a little more aggressive, a little more demanding, moving up his neck, his jaw, and finally his lips, pulling his face to hers with both hands as if he was a life preserver.
He moved as she directed him, as he so often did. Their meal was forgotten, as was any trace of the night he had thought they were to spend together. Instead there was this, frantic kisses and desperate touches, and he let himself be led into each. He kissed her deeply, tasting the tracks of her tears in the corners of her mouth. His hands laced tight at the small of her back, pressing her close against him, letting her feel his comforting weight, the close grasp of his arms around her.
She moaned softly into their kiss as he responded, enjoying the feeling of his body pressing flush against hers, trapping her against the counter. Her high made every touch, every kiss feel amplified, as if the usual warmth and pleasure of his touch was now tinged with electricity, exciting every nerve ending he touched. But as good as he was making her feel right now it wasn’t enough, and she wanted more. Any other time, she would be concerned about this, that she was doing more taking than giving, that he had been hesitant to even start this with her, but none of that mattered right now, if she even noticed it at all. All that mattered was how she felt in that moment, and how to make it even better.
Kissing him deeply, her fingers started tugging at the buttons on his shirt, slowly popping each one open so she could slip her hand underneath the fabric, sliding her palm over his soft skin, drawing even more of his warmth to her. But soon even that wasn’t enough, and her hand moved further down, fumbling with the button on his pants. He shifted away from her only enough to allow the passage of her hands. He rolled his hips, letting his jeans slide down around their narrow span, exposing himself to her hungry touch.
"Right here?" he said, trying for a laugh that died on his lips. She laughed into their kiss, not at all picking up on his subtle reluctance.
“Ohh my god, that’s hot,” she murmured against his lips, pulling him closer to her, one hand wrapping around his length between them with slow firm strokes. His hips rocked to meet her touch; his eyes fell closed with their next kiss, and he kept them so, letting himself imagine this scenario in a very different context.
His hands moved to her waist, pushing at her clothes. He broke their kiss, but his mouth returned to the line of her jaw, to the soft place just beneath her ear. "Tell me what you want," he whispered. He sucked at her earlobe, skimming his teeth lightly over tender flesh. She shivered, groaning low in her throat as her skin tingled from where he nipped at her ear all the way down to her toes. His words did something else though; there was a flash, barely a blink, when she heard a different voice at her ear and felt different lips on her throat, and those words weren’t asking, they were commanding. And it wasn’t love she felt, it was fear.
She arched her neck into his lips, biting at her lip as pleasure coasted over her skin. “I want it to hurt,” she murmured, squeezing him a little tighter in her hand, her thumb coasting lightly, teasingly over the tip.
He hesitated, then, but only for a moment. Then his teeth pressed into her throat, following the taut line of muscle down to her collar bone. Her clothes were pushed to the floor, pooling around her ankles. He knew this dance by heart; he did not have to look down as he pulled her left leg free of that tangle of clothes, or as he wrapped it around his bare waist. His body kept hers pinned to the counter at her back. He reached into his back pocket, now slumped low against the backs of his thighs, and deftly slipped a condom free of the wallet there. His teeth stayed on her, a sharp distraction, as he opened it and rolled the condom over his length.
Then his hands were on her, holding her against the cabinets as he lifted her leg higher against him. The pad of his thumb brushed soft over her raised thigh. Then he drove into her in one deep, hard thrust. She gasped sharply, squeezing her eyes shut at the mingled pleasure and pain of it, her head falling back against the cabinets behind her. She braced herself against the counter with one hand, the other wrapping around his neck, encouraging him with taut fingers in his hair and whispered words on her lips. She lifted her head, finding his lips again with hers and kissing him deeply, moaning into his mouth as he moved inside her, and then blindly finding one of his hands on her hip, lifting it up and encouraging it to wrap around her throat.
His nails dug into her leg, holding her up as he thrust into her. At first his grip was soft on her neck, a sort of caress in spite of everything else. Then his hand tightened, the heel of his palm fitted to her throat's soft hollow. He held her firmly in place as he bucked into her, every snap of his hips hard enough to bruise. His fingers squeezed, careful in some ways, vicious in others, a challenging combination whose nuances he had learned long ago. There was enough room for her to breathe, but only just; though she remained perfectly safe in his care, her body would convince her otherwise. He felt her every breath come more shallowly than the one before it. He kissed her again, drinking in those short, sharp breaths, still driving into her all the while.
She trembled in his hands, the pain and pleasure threatening to overwhelm her already overstimulated senses. Her hand wrapped around his wrist as he tightened his grip on her throat, fighting for breath with little gasps at each brutal thrust. Black started to feather her vision, euphoria coasting on its heels as the flow of oxygen to her brain began to slow. Her grip on his wrist relaxed slightly even as the rest of her started to tense up, returning his kisses eagerly and moaning into his mouth as her orgasm tore through her, weaking her limbs so that she clung desperately to him as she lost control.
By slow degrees he released her throat, guiding her to take in small sips of air, rather than the great heaving gasps her body craved. His movements slowed in her, his body sliding gently in the tight circle of her bruised flesh. With soft fingertips he smoothed away the faint marks he had made; he kissed her cheek, and slowly, gingerly, withdrew from her.
She slowly came back to herself, breathing hard, taking in more air with each breath, eyes closed as she enjoyed the dissipating waves of pleasure breaking over her skin like a gentle surf. She leant against him, her cheek against his, for the first time his skin feeling comparatively cool against hers. She could feel different spots on her body where she was sure she’d have bruises in the morning, her throat slightly raw where he’d held her, her limbs aching from being in an awkward position. But it was a good ache.
He set himself to rights quickly enough, disposing of the condom and adjusting his clothes with gestures so small and quick they were almost unnoticeable. His hand swept light over her cheek, feeling the dark flush he had brought to her skin. She opened her eyes, finally meeting his, her arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders for support. “Ohh my god,” she murmured softly, a smile tugging at her lips as she pressed them against his. “I had no idea…” He’d always made her happy, every time they were together. But this was, well, completely different. A half-formed thought occurred to her then, that she wouldn’t need Abel ever again if she could have...this.
Rafael smiled when she did, though it was a shadow of a thing. He concealed this with another kiss, another gentle squeeze of her body to his. "You never asked," he said. This time, his tone almost sounded as light as he meant it to be. He nuzzled soft against her, easing her away from the cabinets. When she felt steady enough, he at last let her go, leaning down to gather up her clothes and hand them over to her.
"So… are you hungry yet?" She took her clothes from him, somewhat disinclined to put them back on, but she started dressing anyway.
“Maybe a little,” she said with a non-committal shrug. Once she pulled her shirt back on and she was more or less back to normal, she changed her mind. “Yes, actually,” she chuckled. She moved over to the stove, pulling a piece of cauliflower out of the baking dish and nibbling on it. “You gonna feed me now?” she teased, a little of her old playfulness coming back now that her pounding heart and racing thoughts were starting to slow.
He chuckled. "No," he said, "but you can have my plate. Or we can share, hm?" His fingers trailed down her arm as he left the kitchen, moving back toward the table and his now cold plate. He took it up from the table, inspecting closely for any signs of feline thievery. Finding none, he brought the plate to the kitchen, watching the microwave intently as he reheated it. He only spoke again when they had made their way back to the table, returned to their seats. Nish pulled hers to the other side of the table so she could sit closer next to him, sitting sideways to face him.
"You should try to sleep tonight," he said. "I know you probably won't feel like it, but still."
She smiled, stabbing another piece of warm cauliflower with her fork and nibbling on it. “Am I gonna get a lecture now?” she asked softly, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her head on her hand, watching him. He cleared his throat and stared down at their shared plate.
“I'm sorry,” she said, not knowing she would say it until she heard the words. “I shouldn't have snapped. And…” she sighed, not wanting to say it but not able to stop. “You're right. But I didn't plan this. I haven't...not in five years.” Admitting it like that made her nervous. It made it real. “I thought I was better. It's just...stress. And it was there, and I couldn't say no.”
Rafael shook his head. "I told you," he said, "I'm not going to tell you what to do. You don't owe me an explanation. You make your own decisions. But my decision is that if you're using, I need to know it, and I need to stay away." He looked up to her, something weak and wounded hiding in his gaze. "Please understand." She swallowed her mouthful of food, lowering her eyes from his and nodding.
“I do,” she said softly, “and I’m sorry.” It was all she could think to say to him now, but she wasn’t sure why she felt so apologetic.
’Because you’re acting like a selfish bitch, my dear,’ she heard, a little clearer than last time. She clenched her jaw in answer to the voice’s mocking tone, scooping up a little more lentils.
“I just...needed to make the shit stop.” He didn’t want an explanation, but she found that she needed to give one, for her as much as him. “I won’t...when you come over, I won’t use anything.”
His instinct was to thank her, but that seemed trite and too easily taken the wrong way. So he nodded, though he could not find a smile, and raised his spoon to half-heartedly pick at another bite. He ate little, and let the meal pass in relative silence.
By now her thoughts had slowed enough that she noticed the silence a lot more keenly, causing a bit more restlessness than she would have liked, her leg bouncing a little under the table. She bit her lip, and when she couldn’t stand the silence anymore, she glanced up at him, a little hesitantly. “Want to watch a movie?” she asked quietly, wanting to do anything that would keep him with her and make their evening still be somewhat normal.
"Sure," he said. He set his spoon aside and reached for her instead, slim fingers curving soft around her wrist. "I'd like that. You pick, okay? I'll get the dishes." She smiled softly, enjoying the touch, but it was gone too soon.
Without waiting for an answer Rafael rose from his chair, picking up the plate and utensils as he went. . He needed to busy himself with something, to serve some purpose that would satisfy them both. He found no such purpose in the kitchen, though it felt good to be among familiar things, cleaning and setting to rights, as he so liked to do.
She watched him go with a frown, sitting at the table for another minute before heading to the living room. Her heart was still beating too fast, her skin a little too warm, but she wasn’t feeling nearly as...off...as she had been when he first got here. She sat on the couch, crossing her legs and scrolling through the offerings on Netflix while the subtle sounds of Rafe puttering around in the kitchen grated on her slightly. She didn’t want him doing that, she wanted him here with her, but she also knew that look on his face. He needed space, and she didn’t want to make things worse by pushing.
Her face lit up when one particular title caught her eye, one she’d been wanting to see for months. She pressed play just as he came in to join her, the opening credits of Deadpool starting on the screen. Without a word, she pulled him to her, pushing him back so she could curl up next to him, stretched out on the couch. Again he moved as she demanded, settling in close against her, his arm around her shoulders. The movie was one he had seen, but he kept this to himself, content to watch her responses as it played out.
Something seemed to put her in better spirits; Rafael did not particularly care if he had done it or the movie had. He simply settled closer, the pad of his thumb brushing over her arm.
She lay her head on his shoulder, one leg twined with his, hand splayed on his chest and eyes glued to the movie. The slower pace of his heart beneath her cheek seemed to calm her a little, her own starting to slow a little more in response, some of the tension melting from her shoulders. She giggled softly at the movie, muttering the occasional comment to Rafe at a particularly good scene or witty joke, but her body was finally relaxing, and in his arms she felt safe. Somewhere around the one hour mark her eyes slid closed, and by the end of the second act she was asleep.
He let her lie there, comfortable and seemingly content, until the movie ended. Then he rose from the couch, carrying her close against him as he did, and took her back to her bedroom. There he lay her down atop the sheets, sliding the pillow neatly beneath her head. He turned to go, moving out of the room on quietly shuffling steps.