Brahms Heelshire - Lamb to the slaughter

Part Seven - Kiss me

"No kiss tonight, Brahms. It's your punishment, remember? From this morning, when you tipped over the toy chest?"

No reaction. Nothing. Brahms continues to stare up at me, his green eyes not showing any signs of understanding of what I just said. His hand makes no attempt to loosen itself from around my wrist. At least his grip is not tightening.

"Brahms?"

As still as before. It's like I never said anything. Or like he was a character in something, like a game or a movie, and someone hit the pause command. He's as unmoving as the painting of himself as a child in the family painting downstairs.

How long will he keep this up? He tugs slightly at my arm, like a boy would pull at his mother's clothing to get her attention. It's clear now. He will refuse to let me leave without following the tenth rule, no matter what I say or do. He's been overly pampered by his parents, that's way too obvious. He needs to learn that not everyone will treat him the same way.

I tug my arm back towards myself, trying to get release from his grip, but yet, it stays. Only now, it's getting progressively tighter, bit by bit.

"Brahms, let go now... Brahms!"

His hand pulls back quickly from me like I have caught him about to steal something. I turn back round and make my way to the door once again, this time with no interruptions.

I turn to look back at Brahms. He's getting up out of the bed, having tossed the blankets to one side, a glare behind the eyes of that mask.

Between us, there is no sound. If a pin was to drop in this moment, it would be as loud as a grenade. Even the simple distant ticking of the grandfather clock down the hall seems louder now and much clearer then it should be; Especially considering it's at the other end of the hall, on the right side of the staircase.

Brahms and I both stop moving when our eyes meet. His eyes go blank of all childish anger for a split second before something I don't recognise fades back in. He does not move and, like the reflection in a mirror, neither do I.

He steps forwards. I step back. We both stop our movements and turn back into contemplating statues. I'm wondering what he is going to next. Whether or not if he's going to have some sort of tantrum and break something or go running back into the walls, where I cannot see him. Brahms, well... he might be contemplating on what should be done next, too.

With no warning, he lunges forwards, barely doing so much as breaking the silence that has encased the pair of us. I stumble backwards out of surprise but don't get too far before his hands grip onto my sides, hard enough to keep me fully up right and not running away from him but not too strongly that it brings me pain.

His hands lower slightly and he guides me closer to him by the hips, gently placing his much wanted kiss on my lips. Would it be a lie if I was to say that it isn't at least a bit enjoyable?

When his porcelain lips hit my own, a little rush of adrenaline shoots through my body, like when cold water touches your skin on a boiling day. But as the lips of the mask are pulled away again, I'm also pulled back into the all too familiar warmth and that slight adrenaline I didn't know I needed so much is gone.

"Are you sure you don't want another one?" I half joke, almost mentally praying for a second.

Brahms' eyes widen and his head tilts to the side while my own hands make their way up to his elbows. I lean in slightly myself, closing my eyes and waiting to feel porcelain against my skin again.

I don't know how long goes by before I open my eyes again when I don't feel anything. Brahms is still staring down at me, wide eyed and a strange and unfamiliar disappointment fills my stomach. His hands fall from my hips and mine fall right after.

Brahms crosses the room and sits on the bed, not looking over at me. Just as quiet as when he got out of it, Brahms lays back into the bed, re-pulling the blankets over him.

"Harmony?" A rougher, deeper voice calls out to me from the bedroom I'm now standing outside of that makes my stomach knot in a good way. I turn to look at Brahms, completely surprised that such a voice could come from the same man who has only spoken like a boy so far.

"What is it, Brahms?" I answer, wondering what ever it could be that he could want. If he uses that voice, he can ask me to do nearly anything for him that I can do in this house and I'd do it in a heartbeat.

"A second kiss?... Please?"

Sorry this chapter was short and shitty. But I was wondering if anyone was possibly wanting some sexually filthiness in the next chapter? Just a little bit? Maybe?