I Am (Not) Your Hero

15

What was that? Starlette grappled without herself, trying to extricate herself from this feeling of need. She did not need him, did not like him, did not want to be around him.

And yet, her body seemed to believe she did. She felt herself push closer to him. He lifted her chin, looking into her eyes.

"I don't...understand," she whispered, his hands clenched the edge of the counter. He stood between her thighs, his large erection pressing deeper into her clothed pussy.

"What don't you understand?" He grunted, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The countertop cracked under his grip. "I told you...we're connected."

She shook her head. "I shouldn't want you like this. I didn't. I don't."

"You don't?" He whispered softly, "But I feel you. How warm you are, how wet you are. I see you, look at you, your mouth is open," he brushed his thumb against her lower lip.

"Your legs are closed against me. You don't want me to move. I hear you. Your heart is pounding," he pressed his finger against her chest. "Harder now. I smell you. The light sweat—you're nervous. Anxious. You're wet, Starlette. So wet for me."

Starlette's eyes welled with tears. Fuck him. Fuck Jim he was right. He wiped them away before they even fell.

"You are arousing every one of my senses, little star," he edged closer. "Every one. If there's one person you can't lie to, it's me."

Starlette shook her head her body trembling with fear, with disgust and desire. She couldn't pinpoint whose but she'd decided she'd put a name to it—and it would be his.

Smite. Smite, did this, forcing his wanton desire onto her. He wanted to fuck her so bad he was making her think she wanted to do it too. To fuck him. To take him into her body and let him break her—and he'd break her, like he had so many times before.

She shook her head again. He took her hostage. Abused her—tortured her really. Trained her to be his little bitch. And she was just falling into it, like a spineless weakling.

"Every day," he said softly, interrupting her flurry of self-hatred that was quickly turning into a snowstorm, "I flew around, saving people. Because I felt like...something was wrong with me. And they knew it. And if I didn't do something big to cover it up, it'd be exposed."

Starlette let her vision clarify looking into the lavender fields of his eyes. He smiled.

"I tried to hide it. But I didn't want to, really. Just knew that I should. But I...I wanted someone to see me, Starlette. And you did. And I hated it, like I knew I would. And I punished you for it."

She swallowed and sniffled. "I am not the only one, Smite."

"It feels like something wrong and they know it. Like everyone else is in on the joke and I'm not. And I don't know what to do, Star. Because they're right. Something is deeply and terribly wrong with me."

She nodded. "I know. You are fucked up...creature, Smite. You wear a human skin but you are...other. And they see it. But you're good at playing the Hero. But not to me."

He smiled, cupping her cheek. "I know. And I love it and I hate it at the same time. That I'm not your hero. It makes me crazy. I want to break you until you reach for me to save you. I wanna save you, Starlette."

"And I wanna be saved. But not by you. Not ever by you." She whispered.

"Then I won't. Didn't I tell you? I'll never be your hero, Starlette: never again. You are the only person in this galaxy I won't save," He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek softly. Then her nose. And then her lips. He pulled back, their breath mingling looking deeply into her eyes.

"The galaxies are your eyes. Really." He smiled softly.

And for a moment she forgot where she was and she thought she was on a date. And he'd taken her to his for a 'nightcap' and she knew what it meant, and she didn't mind.

After all, he was tall, and handsome and so, so built. His eyes were lavender and the beauty mark on his left cheek made him seem exotic and otherworldly.

He had just told her the galaxies were in her eyes—and he'd been there, amongst the stars, and with his beauty it was where he belonged.

He was a star, this date of hers. A real star, bright and gorgeous, and oh so deadly if you got too close. But life giving, if you were far enough away—just the right amount—just 93 million miles.

"Which one?" She whispered back.

He smirked. "All of them. Your name is apt."

He kissed her cheek again. "I won't take you."

"You won't," she whispered back, hopeful. "Promise me."

"I won't, Star. I won't. I'll be good from now on. I will. You'll be proud of me, tell me what a good hero I am." He whispered, falling to his knees, wrapping his hefty arms around her.

She raised her arms her brows lifting. "Oh..."

"Everyone else is so obsessed about the person I pretend to be. But you...you know what I am. And I want you to like it. I want you to like me. And I hate that."

Star smiled. She could work with that.