2P GerIta: Fallen

7

Still, I stayed close to him, and blindly kept on hoping, that treacherous, slippery feeling I kept holding on to as I felt little by little back from the man of my attention.

Luciano loved to practice with his knives, and while in the past - before I confessed my heart and began my pursuit of the feisty, stubborn Italian- I would have drank beer and lazed about on the couch, I now opted to follow Luciano into these practices, if only to watch how the fire sparked in his eyes and his teeth gritted at the release of each glinting knife, how he let small smirks grace his face with each successive thud, before he was off whirling around a new knife before sending it spinning into its target's vital regions. Ouch.

But that week, Luciano was a little off, and it was easy to see in his mounting rage that he was pissed about it, and, naturally, the blame soon came to rest upon me as I watched impassively from the corner, keeping my satisfaction at the fluster I was causing inside and to myself, not wanting to bait the beast any more than my presence did by itself these days.

I was not overly shocked to find Luciano calling me over for target practice either then, and the fact that he did not just outright say it but instead just told me to line up with rigid posture did nothing to disguise it, nor was it meant to - it was merely a sign of how distracted Luciano must have been, and how hard he was working to realign his brain. It was also a forbearer of the outcome, with the blade thudding right next to my head - undoubtedly where Luciano aimed it - but the slightest bit off, having nicked my ear and taking a bit of flesh and blood with it - mere millimeters difference, but the whole world off for Luciano, who had been born with a knife in his hand, and deadly accuracy with it.

I still did not move when Luciano's inevitable explosion followed, even as he stormed closer and closer to me still spewing obscenities at himself and I, unable to make up his mind who he was really mad at I assume, and it was not until after he had slapped my face that I finally reached out and caught his wrist in my fist.

He struggled against me for a moment, cursing the day I was born, the day he took me in, the day I said I loved him, the day he -

"Luciano."

He let himself be cut off, though he seemed no less irritated as I showed him his hand and questioned if that was the source of his bother and he snapped a yes back to me, though we both knew it was me he was angry with, less so than his miniscule betrayal from his hand, though that certainly did not please him either.

I turned our hands so mine cupped his and our fingers laced together, and for half a second I allowed myself to savor the wonder of being able to hold his hand in my own, feel our fingers touching, have contact between us that was not harsh and painful. Delicately, I grazed my face with the offending palm, appreciated how the skin that was so used to the handling of murder weapons could feel so wondrously gentle on my own, everything I could have hoped for. More than I could have hoped for: Luciano was not pulling away, and instead had a perplexed look on his face as if he was actually thinking about what was going on, and the way he told me to stop was not his usual snappy impatient retort, but rather utterly confused and unsure of itself - unsure that he actually wanted this to stop.

I peppered his knuckles with kisses, looking into his red eyes, seeing all the shades of uncertainty there and trying to reassure him that this was okay, that we were okay, that love -

He wrenched himself away from me, his scarlet eyes anything but unclear now as he backpedalled away from me, turning so that he didn't have to look at me, pinching the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed, his body trembling from the force of the action he just committed.

So close, and yet the meager distance between us spoke of impossibly far lengths still yet to cross.

Watching that body shake though as Luciano took deep breaths trying to clam and likely recompose himself, I could not help but to step up to his back again and wrap my arms around his waist as I rested my head on his shoulder, wishing it were permissible that I provide some kind of comfort to him.

I probably should have seen it coming that a knife found itself buried in my shoulder up to the hilt, but I let out a grunt in surprise and watched Luciano's face as he realized his alleged attacker was simply his overly attached henchman clinging on to him despite the fact that he had just turned away from me a moment before and that should have been my cue to dismiss myself, though we both knew it would not have been it.

It took a moment of me looking at him for Luciano to pull the knife out of my skin. Seeing the concern on Luciano's face was worth the hole by my heart, and I only managed a half-hearted joke as he hesitantly reached towards the wound, the blood staining his sun-tanned fingers a shade of red rivaling his eyes, which remained filled with worry.

Of course, he soon collected himself enough to scowl at me as I smiled a little too smugly back at him considering his face had just had hurt written all over it after stabbing me in the chest. And maybe he thought I was too eager when he ripped my shirt off of my body and I believed for a moment that I may be getting some kind of make-up reward or even a putting-in-my-place punishment - his face was very self-pleased as he proceeded to rip the shirt to shreds and tightly bind the injury.

Still, when I caught his chin in my hand and studied his face to properly gauge what was happening with him, it was only a moment before he crashed his lips on to mine, the force behind it rather astonishing considering this man had difficulty deciding if he truly wanted to hate me more than ever, or let himself give in, even just the tiniest of a fraction.

I wrapped my arms tightly around his body, let his tongue claim my mouth for his own, let Luciano have control of me as we kissed deeper, harder, longer, breaking for air and panting as if we had just sprinted a mile in training, then coming back together before either had caught their breath fully, breathing in the other instead of oxygen, turning this into a competition, a contest to see who can outdo the other, outlast, outperform - triumph and take victory over.

Luciano bit down on my bottom lip with the ferocity a lion uses to bite down on its prey, and the taste of blood was added into the mix even as a moan escaping my mouth pried me open further to Luciano's mercy.

What more could I ever had wanted? Looking at Luciano now, I could almost see the word love clicking into his brain as he looked back at me, I could feel how he could love me too, I could think this might even work, we could finally have something together -

And he ran out of the room on the spot, as if there were no other option available to him now except to escape. And while I was dazed for a moment, unbelieving that I could go from everything I could ever imagine possible to once more having Luciano run from me and the feelings he by now must share, I was very quick to dash after him at a speed I knew would earn me credit in training sessions.

I pinned him up against the wall, and we were both so close, sharing the same air, the same look, the same desire, and then we were kissing again and Luciano was dragging us into the bedroom and there was nothing else I could even formulate a thought on except that I had finally cracked open his heart.