#saintedcrown

23. Your muse roughly kisses mine.

She’s been angling for it for months.

And okay, his logic behind saying no has always made sense. She’s young. She doesn’t know what she wants. He’s dangerous, he isn’t good for her... et cetera, et cetera. She got bored of listening when his points got too logical. 

    But she guesses he got bored of listening to her whining for it, which would explain why now he’s actually complying. 

     She watches him as he moves closer, confused at first, but kissing is like riding a bike: you never forget how to do it. And so she smiles once it becomes obvious, reaching out for him, but as always he’s all business. He takes hold of her like she’s nothing and kisses her the same fucking way. Jane isn’t sure what she expected. Sure, she’d hoped for fireworks, that weird feeling in your gut that says this is a good decision!, but all she gets is some tongue that tastes of pizza shoved down her throat, little body backed into a corner she can’t get out of. And she wonders for a second if he really kisses people like this before it clicks -- he’s just being an asshole to get her to leave him alone. She isn’t sure what she hates more: the way his kiss is so forceful and gross right now, or the fact that his dumb plan is working. 

      Little hands come to his chest and with every scrap of strength she has, Jane shoves Boss away. “Okay, Jesus, I-- I get it.” She scrubs at her mouth with the back of a hand, sleeve pulled over her knuckles, and grimaces. Not entirely unpleasant. Bearable, but not enjoyable. But she at least she knows what he means, now. He can’t give her the gentle affection she really craves because he’s not a gentle guy, and she needs to stop expecting him to be. 

“trust you? boss, i-- fuck no.”

     jane fishes a lighter from her pocket, cigarette already stuck between her lips. she was supposed to be quitting. but then again, tonight was also supposed to be a quiet night, and now look at them. she isn’t even sure whose blood is sprayed on the side of her face, but she knows that his knuckles are wearing the same person. she flicks open the zippo, holds it up. one click. no flame. two clicks. three, four, and then she’s throwing it across the room, watching as it disappears into the darkness of a corner. she has no intention of picking it back up again.

      getting up, she starts to search the room for a lighter that will actually work. if he offered one, she would refuse, simply because she doesn’t want to owe him anything else. she was already in deep, but after tonight... tonight, it’s confirmed that she’s never going to get away from any of this. and it’s fucked. jane knew the risk of getting involved with this guy when it had all started, but in her naivety she had believed that this connection had made her untouchable. he’s invincible, after all, so why are the people he associates with not afforded the same security? she’d never imagined that she could ever be touched like that, not now. especially not by somebody who was just trying to get to him. is she even that important? jane doubts it. in fact, she doubts he actually came to her rescue, either. he was probably in the area and it was all a goddamn coincidence.

     finally, she finds a light, but her hands are still shaking too much to use it. fuck lighters, fuck smoking, fuck this fucking asshole who thinks himself the king but can’t protect his subjects.

     “you’re supposed to look out for me.” her voice is sharp, accusing as she rounds on him; she needs somebody to blame, and he happens to be the closest person to her right now. even though he saved her life, like he said, he’s also the one who’s fucked it over.  logically, she knows that he’s helped her more than he’s harmed her. but the outrage of what happened tonight makes her forget all that for the sake of tearing him to pieces to make herself feel better.  

your obedient servant / hamilton