Cinnamon & Nutmeg Volume 2: Where I Want To Be

11: Dom

It's a bitter end to a story so sweet

Like a long lost friend

That's never found

A way back to me

And I can't deny these memories

Got me all locked up inside

And you hold the key.

~ Nic Chagall, Jonathan Mendelsohn, "This Moment"

I stare down into intense blue eyes, watch that damned mask recede. Want to sigh in relief. I know Brian should leave. Ain't about to keep him from it. Fingerprints to run, vengeance to satisfy.

Him and me both. Letty deserves that much.

But for this moment, I want to be selfish. Want something for myself, because I want it. It's been a while since I did that. Years. It's difficult to be selfish. Since I stood there and watched the pain flash across Brian's face, something in him shattering before he held out the keys... I haven't done much that was driven by self-interest. Everything had a reason, and the reason always lay somewhere else.

But this... no. This is purely me. My needs. Well... obviously not just mine. Takes two to create the pool of swiftly drying stickiness adhering our skin together just now.

Two... or one bull elephant.

Mess is worth it. So worth it. I enjoyed watching Brian. The man is so intense. Throws all of him into everything he does, holds nothing back. In that, we're very much alike. That this isn't any different doesn't surprise me.

I want to bury myself in him to the hilt, claim him.

Mine.

Blue eyes, lightning-fast brain, cop-mask, scars and wounds and the rare kicked-puppy expression. All mine, no matter what the man thinks. Might take him some time to come around to the idea. God knows I'm still reeling from what it means. What it always meant, from the moment I beat Brian in that first race.

I might own him, but he always had me.

I didn't realize it until last night – but that's when this all started. Brian's own words solidified my suspicion. Bracing on my forearms, staring down into those deep eyes... it is at once both disturbing and riveting. Hypnotic, almost. I could do it all day and not get bored. I see things in his gaze that make me want to believe in myself again. Like when we're together, we're invincible.

Work. Right. Things to do. Letty. What's his name, Braga. Fenix, the fuckhead who's dead and doesn't know it yet. I let the world back in, an inch at a time, feel the lax muscles in my neck and shoulders stiffen back up.

Time enough to relax later. On a beach in the sun, with Brian kicked back next to me. Hair a halo of sun-bleached curls again.

Brian slides his hands over my ribs, gaze wandering down toward my mouth. He smiles – well, leers really – and rocks his hips up against me. I want to fuck him, hard and deep. Not sure why I feel the urge right now, this strong. So intense it's all I can think about. God, the buster is too beautiful for his own good, even without the curls. Without the weight he desperately needs back. Lithe, lean and hard beneath me.

He's not going to break or bruise if I move wrong. Thrust too deep.

Oh fuck, I want to feel that. Want to slide inside him, claim what's mine. Mark him.