There's tricks that Frankie has learned a long time, to enter into places where you are not supposed to be at all. And he knows Audrey's shop. He's been by a couple of times, lately, feeling..an urge.
He's inside now. Leaning on the door frame, waiting for her to realise, to feel that scary sensation of being observed where there should really be no one...he's missed her.
Frankie has closed the door after himself, silently. It only takes him to stretch his arm to the left to reach the light switch and have darkness fall.
Audrey is warm in his arms, vulnerable. It excites him, and it terrifies him as well. Her skin is soft, and he keeps kissing it, from shoulder to neck to ear.
"How little you believe in yourself, pretty Audrey...I have missed you."
It's not so much the darkness that makes her tremble as the strength of Frankie's arms. She had forgotten how much physical power he has over her. She tilts her throat back to him, resting her head on his shoulder, lifting one hand to tangle in his hair.
"And how overmuch you believe in yourself, Francis. What makes you think I won't go running through the streets, crying for help?"
"Because I know what you want, baby. I know what you want.."
He likes her hand in his hair, likes the way she's petting him and yet trembling. Still not turning her around, he rubs his hands, palms and fingers splayed, over her hips, her waist, up and down a few times, feasting on her neck with tongue and lips only..
..but he wants to touch her breasts, too. Press his palms on her perked up nipples, rub there too, squeeze them a little, cup them and thus pull her more against him.
He could scare her, right now. Say something like, I would snap your neck before you're at the door.
Through panting breaths, she managages, "I've changed, Frankie. You have no idea what I want."
She turns herself around to face him, keeping her eyes closed until she's ready to look into his. When she sees him, he's nearly just as she remembered him, rough and shifting and very, very dangerous. She kisses his mouth.
"But I know what you want, Frankie. You haven't changed at all. You want to wrap your hands about my throat and say something slick and terrifying. So why aren't you, Frankie?" She slides her hands up the back of his shirt and rests her palms against his skin, keeping her voice at a low, quick whisper. "I'm right here, in the dark, completely at your mercy, forgiving you and falling completely in love with you again. Why aren't you hurting me the way you used to? Wouldn't it be even sweeter now that you know I don't want it?"
Frankie smiles at her. And amazingly enough, it's one of his all too rare tender smiles. One of the true ones, not a grin or a snort or smirk or any other combination of lips and teeth to convey amusement.
Just a smile. "I can always find a way to hurt you," his hands on her waist, he pulls her closer, tight against him. "But not now. I missed you, Audrey. I like playing with you. You're one of my favourite toys.." he kisses her, on her forehead, on the crown of her hair, closing his eyes.
Everything about him hurts her right now. And, God, to be called that...
"No, Frankie," she whimpers, lifting her face to him, her voice pained and earnest, "please...please don't say that. I'm not...like that anymore. I won't be a toy for you. I won't fight you, Francis, but I won't take you back."
She kisses his mouth then, her eyes closed, holding him closely against her.
There's a tiny glow of satisfaction and self-contentment in knowing she's resisting him, at least a little, in spirit if not in the flesh.
And it only took a couple of words, not even really vicious ones. It goes to par with being called Francis.
Bending his knees a little, he reached down to pick her up. "Let's go upstairs," murmured in her mouth, on her tongue, and he remembers the way well, taking the steps carefully enough.
She's stunned, really. His compliance was the last thing she expected, but she's not about to let this opportunity go by. It's strange, and probably stupid, how much she trusts him.
She undresses near-silently in the dark and changes into a pair of boxer shorts and a white cotton t-shirt that were hanging over the back of her chair. She hasn't worn pyjamas in years.
When she's finished, she slips into her bed and curls up against him kittenishly, resting her head against his chest.
"Why did you never stay before, Frankie? Why did you always leave?"
He's inside now. Leaning on the door frame, waiting for her to realise, to feel that scary sensation of being observed where there should really be no one...he's missed her.
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Their hearts of old have beat in tune,
Their meeting made December June,
Their every parting was to die.
Their love has never past away;
The days she never can forget
Are earnest that he loves her yet,
Whate'er the faithless people say.
He thrids the labyrinth of the mind,
He reads the secret of the star,
He seems so near and yet so far,
He looks so cold: she thinks him kind.
She keeps the -
"Oh, God, who's there?"
It only then occurred to Audrey that she had not locked her door. She didn't know what time it was, but her dog had already gone to sleep on her desk.
"I'm...it may not seem like it, whoever you are, but I'm closed."
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"Missed me?" His lips on her neck, softly.
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"Of course I missed you, Frankie. I...how...Jesus..."
She leans back against his strong back, into his strong arms, and hopes he isn't here to crush her throat.
"I'm surprised you still remember me."
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Audrey is warm in his arms, vulnerable. It excites him, and it terrifies him as well. Her skin is soft, and he keeps kissing it, from shoulder to neck to ear.
"How little you believe in yourself, pretty Audrey...I have missed you."
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"And how overmuch you believe in yourself, Francis. What makes you think I won't go running through the streets, crying for help?"
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He likes her hand in his hair, likes the way she's petting him and yet trembling. Still not turning her around, he rubs his hands, palms and fingers splayed, over her hips, her waist, up and down a few times, feasting on her neck with tongue and lips only..
..but he wants to touch her breasts, too. Press his palms on her perked up nipples, rub there too, squeeze them a little, cup them and thus pull her more against him.
He could scare her, right now. Say something like, I would snap your neck before you're at the door.
He could. But he doesn't.
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She turns herself around to face him, keeping her eyes closed until she's ready to look into his. When she sees him, he's nearly just as she remembered him, rough and shifting and very, very dangerous. She kisses his mouth.
"But I know what you want, Frankie. You haven't changed at all. You want to wrap your hands about my throat and say something slick and terrifying. So why aren't you, Frankie?" She slides her hands up the back of his shirt and rests her palms against his skin, keeping her voice at a low, quick whisper. "I'm right here, in the dark, completely at your mercy, forgiving you and falling completely in love with you again. Why aren't you hurting me the way you used to? Wouldn't it be even sweeter now that you know I don't want it?"
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Just a smile. "I can always find a way to hurt you," his hands on her waist, he pulls her closer, tight against him. "But not now. I missed you, Audrey. I like playing with you. You're one of my favourite toys.." he kisses her, on her forehead, on the crown of her hair, closing his eyes.
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"No, Frankie," she whimpers, lifting her face to him, her voice pained and earnest, "please...please don't say that. I'm not...like that anymore. I won't be a toy for you. I won't fight you, Francis, but I won't take you back."
She kisses his mouth then, her eyes closed, holding him closely against her.
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And it only took a couple of words, not even really vicious ones. It goes to par with being called Francis.
Bending his knees a little, he reached down to pick her up. "Let's go upstairs," murmured in her mouth, on her tongue, and he remembers the way well, taking the steps carefully enough.
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She follows him dumbly and silently, her hand loosely linked with his.
When they reach her bedroom, her vision becomes overly sharp and she shies away from him.
"I don't want this, Frankie. Stay the night. You can spend the night with me, wake up with me, stay in my home. But I won't let you take me again."
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Toeing his shoes off, his socks, shrugging out of his t-shirt, taking cigarettes, a small knife and coins out of his pockets takes only a few seconds.
Then he offer her his hand. "Come to bed." It's dark, still, so it's not easy to see his expression.
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She undresses near-silently in the dark and changes into a pair of boxer shorts and a white cotton t-shirt that were hanging over the back of her chair. She hasn't worn pyjamas in years.
When she's finished, she slips into her bed and curls up against him kittenishly, resting her head against his chest.
"Why did you never stay before, Frankie? Why did you always leave?"
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"You were boring. Made me sick with all your blabbering."
It's a flat out lie. But Audrey can think what she wants.
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"Oh, I don't know how you put up with me, Frankie. I must be an absolute ogre compared to your other friends."
She presses her body affectionately against his and wraps her arms around silently him, closing her eyes and simply breathing him in.
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