Burn Me

12: Opera

Malen Bellator

Just when I thought I didn't have to see her for the whole weekend, there she was.

Why must she always be where I am? Why is she always there? It's fucking annoying. Especially when you're not sure why she's popping up in a dream, or why you stare at her, or- or- UGH.

My curiosity takes control and pushes me forward, my steps slow and confident behind her. Her stance is secretive and hidden, one hand weirdly holding a burnt out lantern behind her back and sticking out like a stick, the other against her cheek as she peeked through a lit slit in a door.

The door of the king? The office doors?

Oh stupid stupid girl.

I quickly consider all the decisions I could make right now.

To let her fumble and get found out.
Get found out and get in trouble.
Get in trouble and get eliminated from the competition.

Or...

Force her to tell me if she's an elemental or else I expose what she was doing to the authorities.
Unless it's seen as distrustful and I get shit on...

I should definitely watch her fuck it up.

But no. My feet walk behind her, my body presses against hers, my left hand covers her gasp, my right pulls her back by her stomach.

Her skin was soft.

And her hair smelt good. Like coconut and vanilla.

The door shuts, darkness surrounding us.

She mangles in my grasp in response to my whisper in her ear.

Then, like a lower class girl would—she bites me.

"Ow." I say emotionless, removing my hand from her mouth.

"Get off of me." She spits. As expected.

"Are you always this hot?" I whisper-talk, leaning my head down so I can properly mumble in her right ear this time.

My hand still rests on the slit of warm almost burning stomach, warm and soft and squishy like a cinnamon roll. My groin is in control, and my hand starts lightly rubbing back and fourth on the exposed skin.

"Mhm... almost as warm as fire." I try to get it out of her, I try to get her mad.

Seriously she's wicked hot right now. My hand is starting to get sore from the heat.

But apparently she's gotten better at hiding her fluster since Monday night.

My fingers caress the gentle tan skin, I don't even have to look at it to know that that's what it looks like. She would've pushed me away by now if she didn't want my hands on her, she would have the strength to, I wasn't holding onto her that tightly.

"Let... go." She huffs, a very breathy huff.

"Say stop and I will." I make it clear, I'm not a harasser. I'm simply a man who understands women. I would never do anything with woman unless I had her verbal consent that she was okay with whatever we did. However, in this case, judging by her flushed cheeks and her warm skin, and how she leaned back into my body... I could tell she was enjoying herself.

I scale it to the left, my thumb making a small circle. Close to the size of the one in the apple. Then I draw it back, extremely slowly, taking my time with the intimacy.

What the fuck am I doing?

It's like I'm two people.

She takes a quickened deep breath, like she's debating what she wants to do.