☓ —- | His finger trails down her cheek, the skin beneath is trembling with either her anger or her fear. He smiles, reveling in how beautiful the confused rage pooling in her blue eyes looked resting upon him. The smell of metallic filled the air; the victims of Gieldlitz men lay just at the doorway. He did not intend to get this close to her, in fact he did not intend on approaching her at all. But her voice was like a temptress and somehow he found himself so close to her their bodies would nearly touch if it wasn’t for the gun she pointed directly upon his heart. He had her cornered against the wall, a place she retreated to on her own because she refused to shoot, despite the threat of her words promising his death.
“Aren’t you going to shoot me, Anna?”
He danced with her lies, drinking in her hesitation with his twisted little smile as his curiously gentle eyes wandered her face; first from her eyes, the smoothness of her perfectly porcelain skin and then…to her pouted pink lips. His gaze lingered there longer than he had planned. He noticed how they parted, nearly quivering for air as if it would help her regain control. Suddenly, he forgot the danger she possessed just at her fingertips because the finger that had trailed down her cheek firmly but softly gripped her chin, lifting her face slightly upwards before he forced his lips upon hers. He closed his eyes, feeling her body tense and the vibration of her shocked moans against his mouth.
But as his other hand reached to grip the end of the gun, he felt just how awfully she struggled to keep it cocked. He grabbed the barrel and helped her, directing it just upon the skin where his heart rested beneath. Despite that directed calloused act, his tongue brushed against her lips with a feathery like touch; he was desperate to taste her. Johan pushed against her, the gun digging deeper against him as she pressed even more against the wall – but it was their lips that bruised the more he pursued that he wanted. if he died right there he would be perfectly fine with it.
Shoot him in the heart instead of his head; for her first bullet had instead welcomed him into a hell worse than death - a world without her.
