Tristan pouted, wrapping himself in the new towel, kicking off his pants before sitting on the couch in only his boxers. However, he was quick to pull the blanket over his lap. He hissed as the soft fur press against the burning cut on his leg, struggling to ignore it, "I didn't want to get your couch wet." He stroked the blanket timidly; even her accessories cost more than he was worth, "I'm causing you a lot of trouble."
"No, you're not." She sat down next to him, looking towards the fireplace, the warm glow dancing along her loose strands of hair. Her shoulders lifted as her gaze lowered to the floor, her toes curling against the sumptuous, black rug beneath their feet, "I'm the one who caused you trouble. I freaked out and hurt you for..." She grimaced, "A stupid reason. I can't believe you still want to talk to me even after that." She laughed softly, her hand rubbing against her neck, "Much less be with me."
"Why wouldn't I?" He lifted a hand to her cheek, long, delicate fingers gently tracing her skin, "I'm not blind. I know that you have demons. I know that you have memories that haunt you." He tilted his head, watching her eyes twitch, her lip trembling, "I don't understand it, n-not everything. But that doesn't mean I don't want to try." He lowered his head to her shoulder, pressing his forehead against the muscle, "I have shitty memories too. Some of those really hurt and scare me. S-so I want to help. I want to ease whatever pain you have. This may sound selfish, but maybe it'll help ease my pain too."
"Your pain?"
He flinched, closing his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth, "...Yes. Like I said, my week has been absolute garbage." He pulled her into his embrace, wanting to be as close as he could to her, "I'm in seriously deep shit with the Dan-" He caught himself, "...Some terrifying people." He bit his lip, shuddering, "I-I shouldn't be here."
"But you are here with me."
He smiled, guilt in his throat, "...I don't want you to be in danger."
"I can handle myself." She kissed his cheek softly, comforting him, "I can protect you."
"You seem so sure..." He laughed softly, still trembling, "What's hilarious is that's not even the worst of it."
Her arm returned his embrace, her hand trailing to curl against his damp hair, "How is being in danger, not the worst?"
He trembled, his hands gripping her, fingers clinging onto her robe, "I saw someone I had prayed was dead. Someone from my shitty memories." He released a hiss, his head lifting, his brow tightly arched down and furrowed, a raging tempest in his eyes, "He's here in town and knowing that is eating me up inside."
She looked into his eyes, the embers of the hearth reflected against her gaze, "Why are you telling me this?"
Tristan released a bitter laugh, burying his head against her shoulder, "I recalled our conversation in the bar. I guess I wanted to hear you t-tell me that he deserves to die." He felt his eyes well up, guilt clawing at his throat, making his voice come out in a raspy stutter, "Th-that y-you wouldn't th-think less of me..."
She moved away from his arms, turning her body to face him, her fingers gently stroking his chin and lifting his head to look into her eyes, "What do you want to do, Tristan?"
His eyes widened, and he gripped the couch, Eva's words echoing in his ears, "...Something I may regret. Something I know is wrong." The storm in his eyes was calming down, leaving only haze and clouds in his gaze. His face softened as a familiar shame stole away the rage he felt, "I hate that son of a bitch, but it's wrong to want him to die."
She snorted, moving her hand away from his chin, "Why?" She tilted her head to the side, "Why is it wrong to want someone you hate to die?"
He bit his bottom lip, remembering how angry he was at Eva. Now he was using her very words against himself, "Because no one deserves to die-"
"Didn't we have this conversation?" Her face was close to his, a small smirk on her face, "Some people certainly don't deserve the life they were given. Tristan..." Her voice lowered, a growl in her throat, "Sounds like this man had hurt you..."
That growl made him tremble, fear, and desire mingling together, causing goosebumps to grow against his skin, "...He did."
"Then, it's not wrong to want him dead."
He chuckled softly, his hand moving over his forehead and then covering his eyes as he took in her words. Those words were branded in his mind, along with the words she used to describe lady karma, "You're nothing like Evie. She would never say that."
Ira scoffed, her tongue hitting against the roof of her mouth, releasing her telltale click of annoyance, "Well, I am not exactly a fan of hers. I can tell why you'd feel safer with me."
He moved his hand down to her thigh, gently stroking the muscular curve through the soft silk, "...Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really. Do you want to talk about what happened between you and Mr.' Son of a Bitch'?"
He had left the door to that memory open just enough to give her a peek. His fingers trailed the edge of it, tempted to let it open as wide as it could go. He closed his eyes, flinching before releasing a light laugh, and slamming that door shut, "Not really."
Ira tilted her head to the side, her hand moving to massage a knot along the back of her neck, "One day, you'll open up to me."
Tristan smirked, long bangs wavering side to side over his eyes, "I hope the same with you, babe." He looked down at the flesh exposed from between the long slit of her robe, his touch making that thigh twitch, "I hope to have you wide open for me."
He noticed that deep sigh and shuddered from her, her voice coming out with a reluctant tremble, "Pervert." She stood up, moving away from the couch, her hand rubbing her head through those thick, knotted curls, "Think about what you want to do. Not what someone else tells you to do. Be selfish because, in the end, what you want is all that matters." She gave him that soft smile, reserved only for him, "Right now, I want a drink. How about you?"
He watched her walk towards the kitchen, his eyes once more on those curvy, healthy hips, the same ones that held him down on this extravagant and expensive couch. He closed his eyes, his fingers twitching as he recalled her arching against his touch, her voice deep with a soft purr in her throat as he made her moan.
She had left painful, pleasurable marks on his skin, and he was given only a few mere moments to make her quiver. His jaw throbbed, recalling another promised night ripped from his grasp as her hell took her away from him, leaving him cold, alone, and empty. Danger or not, He didn't have to think about what he wanted to do.
Not when she was standing right in front of him.
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