James Hetfield one-shots

Loverman

A little bit of a different piece than the previous ones. I always wanted to do something with this song--because it's just a freaking awesome cover--so I was jazzed when an idea had finally crossed my mind. It was actually written quite long ago, I found it again in a hidden untouched folder on my laptop, touched it up, and there you go. This is it.

There might be other sequences to this, maybe this is the only one, and that's it. I haven't decided yet.

Hope you'll enjoy it. :)

***

The dim light of the city illuminates her pale face as she sleeps on her bed. She grips the pillow to her face, which wears the sign of worry. I try to smooth the lines on her forehead by gently caressing it, but she grumbles quietly, so my fingers stop. She looks so worn and so fragile. How could I think that I only wanted to use her? Just to exploit the weakness of this woman? As I look at her small figure, her weary face, all I want is to protect her from everything that's ever harmed or could harm her.

She moves her arms lower--one of her elbows barely brushing my chest--now the pillow is held against her upper body, giving me a better view of her face. Her touch and this simple movement have me cast my mind back to a few hours earlier.

I recall her silky skin against my body and the taste of her soft lips, which I'm still longing for. I didn't think that having sex with her would change anything in me. I thought she'd be just one of the many girls who'd give me some pleasure for a certain time, and then it'd be over.

Oh, man, how fucking wrong I was! The closer she let me to her, the more I fell under her charm. She's mesmerized me.

I start humming a melody that's just come to my mind. I can see the corner of her lips curl up: she smiles. I go on while I cannot resist touching her beautiful face again with the top of my finger. I gently discover her face inch by inch with my eyes, and draw circles on her cheek with my thumb, my forefinger caressing her bottom lip.

She seems calmer.

I grab her hip gently and crawl closer to her. Her face quivers as she grumbles, and in the next moment, her sleepy eyes slowly widen until they find mine. My lips unwillingly turn upwards--she mirrors my expression that gives me an oddly warm feeling in my chest.

"I didn't want to wake you up," I whisper as I plant a soft kiss on her forehead. I feel too coward to kiss her lips; I'm afraid that I'd accidentally pry myself open in front of her, something that I've always been very careful about.

"I'm surprised you're still here," she speaks, her voice sounding weak and hoarse.

"Really?" I'm befuddled by her statement. "Why?"

"I thought when I'd wake up," she says, "you'd be long gone." She never breaks the eye contact, as if those eyes were staring right into my soul seeing all my secrets, things I might not even know about. "Or haven't I slept that much?"

Her words hurt--as if they clawed at me leaving bloody scratches behind--even though she's right. My original plan was to leave, but many things have happened since then that even I am unable to comprehend. The only thing I'm aware is that this woman by my side has turned my life upside down just in one night.

"I don't do that," I try to speak in a casual tone. All the previous disappointing experiences I've gone through stop me from wanting her to know how strong my feelings are. It'd make me feel ridiculous. Weak. Vulnerable.

She remains silent--her only answer is a smile with a hint of disbelief, and then she closes her eyes.

"You're so beautiful," I whisper. I grab a lock of dark hair between my fingers and twirl it around them.

A cynical sound leaves her mouth.

"You don't believe me, do you?" I try to hide my disappointment with a half-smile.

"It's only one small meaningless thing," she says as she looks straight into my eyes again. "How many girls have you told this before?" She asks. "Five? Ten? Twenty? A hundred?" Her gaze is inquiring, but I cannot form any words. "Even you don't know the answer."

The claws dig deeper, my wounds bleed more. And yet she's right again: even I don't know the answer. She, on the other hand, isn't aware of the change that stormed through me while we were making love. Because that's what we did. It was love. I could feel it in every bone and every vein that encompasses my body.

"I'm serious."

Of course I am. I might initially have only wanted to have sex with her, but her beauty did immediately catch my attention when I first spotted her. I'd never seen such wonderful thing in my life before. I might've wanted her for one thing, but now I need her. I need her to be mine.

"Me too, James." My stomach flinches as my name escapes her mouth. "I'm not hurt, by the way," she says. "You don't need to worry about my well-being."

I can hear the unsaid words that painfully hang in the air: you didn't care about it when you decided to use me for your own pleasure.

"But what if I do? What if I care about you?"

She smiles and closes her eyes again. I'd like to talk to her, I'd like to open my wounds and tell her what she's done to me, but she doesn't open her eyes again--she declares our conversation over. I let out a sigh as a sign of failure, then I crawl closer to her as I put my arm around her waist to feel the warmth of her body--to feel her. I kiss her face then I try to follow her in her dreams.