The rays of the sun greet my body
I am naked in your world
Come walk me through the garden
And fill me with your love
Satisfy - Me'Shell NdegéOcello
Murder.
Victor Creed had done horrible things in his life, but he was not a murderer. The night before Ororo had left him, she called him a murderer and that was just something he wasn't.
"It ain't like I did it on purpose, baby." His arms were out in front of him, his way of apologizing and he was walking closer to her. "It ain't like I did it on purpose," he repeated. The black duffel bag full of unmarked bills was sitting on the dresser that she had just backed into. Her eye was still swollen and bruised from their last argument. She was beautiful.
Tears filled her eyes and she turned away. "Victor, I can't do this." Her voice began to tremble and that damn bottom lip quivered. Wrapping her arms protectively around herself, Ororo turned her back to him. The white hair stood out more than anything in this dark bedroom. The furniture was a dark chocolate colored wood, painted over the original Mahogany. Black satin sheets, black satin curtains, his own black boxer shorts, and her in her black robe that hung open in front.
Victor frowned and took one large step across the room and was now standing behind her. His large hand gripped her forearm, so tiny underneath his bear-like hands. She made a sound of surprise and he turned around roughly to face him.
"You ain't goin' nowhere," his eyes widened and he could tell she was afraid because the muscles in her arm had tightened. He did not release his sudden death grip on her arm however.
"You know how much I need ya'," he pressed his nose against the side of her face and inhaled her scent. "You won't leave me. I didn't mean to hurt you, Snow White." A strangled sob escaped her lips and she was fighting him.
He hadn't even realized his hand was around her throat.
"I'd die without ya'. Ya' hear me, ya' bitch. I'd die without ya'. You can never leave me. Ever." He lifted her up and tears rolled down her cheeks. Ororo's eyes had gone wide and her legs kicked wildly. As if she weighed next to nothing, he tossed her in the direction of the bed. Suddenly, blinded by his own rage and angry tears, he pulled the drawers out, frantically searching for something.
"Do you love me?!" He was full on yelling.
There was no answer, just pleading and sobbing from her end. When he had thrown her across the room, her side hit the corner of the bed and she had curled up to wrap her arms protectively around her knees.
"Do you love me?!" He demanded to know, needed to know. If she said no, he would kill her right now.
Finding what he had been so desperately hunting for, Victor pulled out his .38 and the resounding click went throughout the room. Ororo's sobs had stopped and he turned to face her. She looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes and he knelt down next to her. The cold hard steel of the gun rested against the side of her face and he tapped the side of her head gently.
"You know I'm not afraid to kill myself." He held her close to him and he could hear her silently sniffling.
They sat there in silence for what felt like hours but only lasted seven minutes.
Tears had filled his own chocolate brown eyes and pressed his lips to her cheek. She flinched but he paid no attention to it.
"Do you love me?" He asked in a whisper.
Her voice was hoarse when she answered weakly, "Yes," and she began to nod her head furiously.
Victor sat the gun aside and lifted her from the floor and pushed her onto the bed. "Do you?" He asked once more and turned her over. She buried her face into the pillow and tried to muffle her tears but failed miserably as she was sobbing by now.
"Do you?" He asked again, pushing her robe over her backside and taking her behind in both his hands, digging his nails into them and drawing blood. She cried out in what could only be pain. He tore her skin as his nails raked down her backside and over her thighs. Hastily pushing his boxers down, he hovered over her trembling body for a moment.
He thrusted into her from behind roughly and she couldn't help but do it.
She screamed.
Taking a great breath of air, Ororo bolted upright in the bed and clutched her stomach.
She was having the nightmares again.
"Somethin' goin' on?" Logan rolled over on his back and sat up, leaning over to turn on the light. Ororo turned to look at him and she could see his facial expressions change from sleepy and confused, to a concerned frown.
"I have to go," she blurted out and pushed the covers back. He didn't argue with her and she was grateful for that. Picking up her jeans and shirt, she looked over her shoulder at him and sighed. "Logan, we can't - "
"Can't what?" He brought his knees up and swung them over the side of the bed. "Can't fuck anymore?" His words would shouldn't have stung but for some reason, they did.
Ororo slipped on the blue jeans, not bothering to find her under garments. She pulled the shirt on over her head and smoothed back her platinum hair. She stumbled as she put on her shoes, hopping on one foot, then the other. It would have been amusing if it were not for the certain circumstances.
"What happened? Bad dream?" His voice was low and there was a hint of annoyance to it. How dare he be annoyed when she was the one having the nightmares?
"It is not of your concern," she replied curtly and headed into the living room to get her jacket.
"Yer in my house, so I suppose that does make it my concern." He was leaning against the door frame in his bedroom, completely naked and gorgeous. Ororo turned to look at him and looked away. "That is why I am leaving," she slipped into the jacket and put her hair up and slipped the wig over her head. She adjusted it, tucking in stray white hairs and primping the sides of it. Those ugly dull brown curls hung at her shoulders and she could see him wince when she turned to look at him.
Was she ugly without her white hair to him?
What should she care what he thought in the first place? Obviously, they were both two lonely pathetic souls and the only good thing they could get out of this would be a good lay. He had asked for just one more and she had given him that. She owed him nothing else.
"I see yer just as fucked up as I am."
His tone was so calm and surprisingly sweet, she had to give him a small smile.
"Suppose."
"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever been with."
Ororo's heart skipped a beat and somehow managed to successfully lodge itself into her throat. When she looked up again to lock eyes with him, he had already made his retreat into the bedroom. Without missing a step, Ororo adjusted her jacket, zipped it up, and made her exit without them exchanging any sort of goodbyes.
How dare she make that decision? What fucking right did it give her to decide to just leave?
Logan stood at his window, drawing the curtains back just a bit, watching her sashay down the sidewalk. Three small boys ran up to her and she stopped to talk to them. A moment later after apparently telling them her name, they waved goodbye to her.
His nostrils flared and he pressed his back to the wall, running his hands through his hair.
So she had nightmares too?
He wasn't lying when he declared her being a mess like him. She had been making strange noises since they had laid down. It wasn't as if they had been laying down for very long. She tired him out. Her long legs wrapped around him from the kitchen to the bed and all that hair flying as she rode him like he was that Harley that was parked in that makeshift garage.
He wasn't lying when he declared her the most beautiful woman he'd been with, either.
Don't get him wrong, he had his fair share of women. From the lowest of trailer park trash to the most exotic beauties a person could come across. All those women, however, couldn't compare to the catch walking down the street now. He was waiting for it, waiting for that moment when he would have to stumble back and try to catch the heart she'd somehow managed to steal. He didn't even know this woman's last name and he found himself being drawn into her more and more as she walked down that sidewalk. Even an ugly dirty sidewalk littered with trash and children's chalk seemed beautiful when she walked over it.
He lifted his arm over his head and held on to the top of the window.
She turned around and looked up at him, the breeze picking up around her and that ugly brown wig whipping about her face.
One more smile and he smiled back down at her.
It was the first time he had smiled, genuinely, in months.
What the hell was happening?
