One Last Dance
Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting to you, my latest fic! (ahem, okay. it's NOT my latest fic. I was just too lazy to copy it over from blogspot until now... Anyway, the blogspot blog is officially dead.)
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Nighthood nor Arsène Lupin [he belongs to Maurice Leblanc]... although I really wish I could marry the Arsène Lupin that I've painstakingly carved out in this delectable piece... Damn.
Summary: Arsène Lupin. In bed. With his beloved Kelly Kincaid. One-shot.
Ah... a wonderful evening it had been! As I stepped into the balcony to admire the night sky, I realised the great expanse of darkness that seemed to stretch from one end of the earth to the other. The stars hung like little lamps, beckoning me to reach out and explore the beauty and serenity of the mysterious night. A rare view for a rare occasion, perhaps. Kelly was a busy woman, and I, a busy man. While she spends her time rushing reports and attending press conferences, I have made it my business to aid the gendarmes in circumventing the illegal plans of others, and more often than not, this business also involves me rescuing Kelly from certain treacherous elements (which I would decline to mention, since their very names spoil my mood), especially when she becomes too engrossed in her job.
"Ouch," she grumbled.
"What's the matter?" I asked, snapping out of my reverie.
"Stiff shoulders."
Kelly was sitting at the bedside table now, dressed in an oversized green nightshirt which she selected from my wardrobe. It was quite amusing to see your beloved using your oversized nightshirt as an undersized nightgown, but at the same time, I found her rather cute.
"Well, I wouldn't be surprised," I replied. "You camped at your desk for the past two days, literally."
"Well, you can't blame me if every single major event in town happened to coincide last weekend. I had very tight deadlines to deal with," she retorted. "And besides, I wasn't the only one who had been sleeping at the office since last Friday. No one would dare offend Chumps, after that awful affair last month."
"Which awful affair?" I asked teasingly. "I seem to have lost count." Charles Chumley was the chief editor of the Daily Globe, affectionately known as Chumps, who had earned himself a reputation of being the most stringent and demanding editor the newspaper has ever hired. Under his direction, I must say that the Daily Globe has improved tremendously. Then again, if it's going to turn Kelly into a workaholic again, I'd rather make her work for someone else. Of course, she'd never agree...
"Oh, never mind," she flopped onto the bed and crossed her legs. "It'd take me the whole night to talk about Chumps. Besides, you forbade me to discuss work after working hours."
Perhaps she felt cold. Walking across the room to get her something warm, I asked her, "Hmm. I see you're taking my advice seriously. Do you want a robe?"
"Perhaps." I gave her a sideway glance, waiting for a more definite reply, just to irritate her. She sighed, "Oh... just bring it over."
I handed her the robe and sat down beside her. "Come. Turn over and lie down," I said. She took off her shirt, not embarrassed of revealing her naked body before me and lay flat on her stomach, waiting for me to start. I bent over to retrieve a small vial of sweet smelling oil from the bedside table, scattered the oil over her back and threw the empty vial into the wastepaper basket. Then I began to work the familiar routine.
Giving Kelly a massage has been a pleasurable job that I have always been obliged to perform. Perhaps it is ironic that I should be the one to relax her stiff muscles after a tiring day at work. Then again, she probably loves me all the more for my massages.
"Feeling better?" I asked, kissing her softly on the nape of her neck.
"Mm..." I was glad to know that she was enjoying herself. "Arsène?" She called out some time later.
"Yes?" She sat up to face me.
"Thank you." Saying this, she wove her hands around my neck and planted a kiss on my lips.
"Why, you're welcome," I replied, reciprocating with another kiss.
"Your turn." She slapped my shoulder playfully as she disengaged herself from my arms. "Go on, take off your shirt." I hesitated, wondering if it were a good idea to let her give me a backrub.
"Oh, come on. I'm not all that bad..." Seeing how insistent she was, I resigned myself to her whims and lay down obediently.
It surprised me to know how good a masseuse Kelly was. She began with my neck, placing her palms on the back of my head and moving her thumbs in a circular motion. Next, she did a shoulder massage and slowly worked her slender fingers down the spine, before working back up again. As she proceeded to massage my head, I could sense her breathing against my ear. It warmed my heart to find the woman you love treating you with such tenderness, as you might do the same for her. While I felt that Kelly was completely at ease with me, baring her body and soul to my private viewing, I never quite felt as comfortable in her presence. There was still a tiny crevice in Kelly that remained concealed from the public eye, a part of her that remained a mystery. It wasn't that we had not been thoroughly honest with each other, but that perhaps it was an unconscious effort for her to maintain that status quo, lest she might become too vulnerable.
I often thought that she would find Arsène Lupin an enigma: Who is he? Where did he come from? Why is he doing this? Can I trust him? Yet, it seems that she need not ask too many questions about my past. Trivial details, she might say. How ironic it was, to find that I had won her heart with such completeness, leaving her feeling entirely secure in my arms, while I would continue to experience nuances of uneasiness as she set her eyes upon me. Perhaps I had set myself challenging standards in trying to please her. Perhaps I was too easy to please...
When Kelly finished her routine, she spread her arms over my shoulders and lay her upper body on top my back. Then she sighed as if she had entered a blissful portal, before comically asking, "I hope I'm not crushing you?"
"Oh, yes, madamemoselle. I am being nearly crushed to death," I replied jestingly.
"Very well. I shall continue to lie here and crush you to death then."
"My dear, what a cruel thing to do!"
We must have lain in that position for the past half hour, not talking to each other but merely soaking up each other's presence. I could feel her supple breasts pressing against my back, her breath against my face, her kisses lingering on the nape of my neck and my ear. How I wished we could stay like this forever. Tracing her finger down my shoulder blade, she whispered into my ear, "I love you." Then, she rolled over and flopped on my right, and I found two glistening emeralds gazing at me dreamily.
"I love you too," I murmured. Kelly retreated into my arms and our lips met again.
A passionate lip-lock, anyone who were to witness this scene would have thought. Yet, there was something different when Kelly pressed her lips against mine; it was almost as if she had proceeded to suck out my soul. A degree possessiveness and insecurity that was uncharacteristic of her. Briefly, I caught a glimpse of her confusion - the mystery that lay deep within her heart - before it vanished again.
"Kelly..." I said finally, pulling myself away from her. It was not my intention to break off in such an abrupt fashion, but there was no other way which could spare me from hurting her feelings.
"Kelly, I... I... I'm sorry." Still holding her hands, I explained that I felt a little queasy and wanted to stop for a while. In reality, I could hardly breathe in that so-called passionate lip-lock.
"Oh," she replied, with a note of disappointment. She continued to lie in bed beside me, but turning her face away from me, as if she were nursing her resentment towards me.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me…" Peering over to look at her, I was taken aback when I saw traces of tears on her face. Not quite knowing how to react in such an awkward situation, I took her hands and started again, “My dear, I…”
I stopped, when our eyes met again. The resentment which I thought she had against me was false; I had misunderstood Kelly. The same confusion which I had witnessed earlier resurfaced. The threaded bead did not cease, but continued to flow down that familiar face, trickling down her neck and dripping onto our hands. Turning over, she attempted to sit up but it was as if she had lost all her strength and simply clung onto my chest, reaching out to weave her hands around me for support. Instinctively, I held her close to me, doing my best to comfort her.
Kelly, what have I done to hurt you so much?
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Nighthood nor Arsène Lupin [he belongs to Maurice Leblanc]... although I really wish I could marry the Arsène Lupin that I've painstakingly carved out in this delectable piece... Damn.
Summary: Arsène Lupin. In bed. With his beloved Kelly Kincaid. One-shot.
Ah... a wonderful evening it had been! As I stepped into the balcony to admire the night sky, I realised the great expanse of darkness that seemed to stretch from one end of the earth to the other. The stars hung like little lamps, beckoning me to reach out and explore the beauty and serenity of the mysterious night. A rare view for a rare occasion, perhaps. Kelly was a busy woman, and I, a busy man. While she spends her time rushing reports and attending press conferences, I have made it my business to aid the gendarmes in circumventing the illegal plans of others, and more often than not, this business also involves me rescuing Kelly from certain treacherous elements (which I would decline to mention, since their very names spoil my mood), especially when she becomes too engrossed in her job.
"Ouch," she grumbled.
"What's the matter?" I asked, snapping out of my reverie.
"Stiff shoulders."
Kelly was sitting at the bedside table now, dressed in an oversized green nightshirt which she selected from my wardrobe. It was quite amusing to see your beloved using your oversized nightshirt as an undersized nightgown, but at the same time, I found her rather cute.
"Well, I wouldn't be surprised," I replied. "You camped at your desk for the past two days, literally."
"Well, you can't blame me if every single major event in town happened to coincide last weekend. I had very tight deadlines to deal with," she retorted. "And besides, I wasn't the only one who had been sleeping at the office since last Friday. No one would dare offend Chumps, after that awful affair last month."
"Which awful affair?" I asked teasingly. "I seem to have lost count." Charles Chumley was the chief editor of the Daily Globe, affectionately known as Chumps, who had earned himself a reputation of being the most stringent and demanding editor the newspaper has ever hired. Under his direction, I must say that the Daily Globe has improved tremendously. Then again, if it's going to turn Kelly into a workaholic again, I'd rather make her work for someone else. Of course, she'd never agree...
"Oh, never mind," she flopped onto the bed and crossed her legs. "It'd take me the whole night to talk about Chumps. Besides, you forbade me to discuss work after working hours."
Perhaps she felt cold. Walking across the room to get her something warm, I asked her, "Hmm. I see you're taking my advice seriously. Do you want a robe?"
"Perhaps." I gave her a sideway glance, waiting for a more definite reply, just to irritate her. She sighed, "Oh... just bring it over."
I handed her the robe and sat down beside her. "Come. Turn over and lie down," I said. She took off her shirt, not embarrassed of revealing her naked body before me and lay flat on her stomach, waiting for me to start. I bent over to retrieve a small vial of sweet smelling oil from the bedside table, scattered the oil over her back and threw the empty vial into the wastepaper basket. Then I began to work the familiar routine.
Giving Kelly a massage has been a pleasurable job that I have always been obliged to perform. Perhaps it is ironic that I should be the one to relax her stiff muscles after a tiring day at work. Then again, she probably loves me all the more for my massages.
"Feeling better?" I asked, kissing her softly on the nape of her neck.
"Mm..." I was glad to know that she was enjoying herself. "Arsène?" She called out some time later.
"Yes?" She sat up to face me.
"Thank you." Saying this, she wove her hands around my neck and planted a kiss on my lips.
"Why, you're welcome," I replied, reciprocating with another kiss.
"Your turn." She slapped my shoulder playfully as she disengaged herself from my arms. "Go on, take off your shirt." I hesitated, wondering if it were a good idea to let her give me a backrub.
"Oh, come on. I'm not all that bad..." Seeing how insistent she was, I resigned myself to her whims and lay down obediently.
It surprised me to know how good a masseuse Kelly was. She began with my neck, placing her palms on the back of my head and moving her thumbs in a circular motion. Next, she did a shoulder massage and slowly worked her slender fingers down the spine, before working back up again. As she proceeded to massage my head, I could sense her breathing against my ear. It warmed my heart to find the woman you love treating you with such tenderness, as you might do the same for her. While I felt that Kelly was completely at ease with me, baring her body and soul to my private viewing, I never quite felt as comfortable in her presence. There was still a tiny crevice in Kelly that remained concealed from the public eye, a part of her that remained a mystery. It wasn't that we had not been thoroughly honest with each other, but that perhaps it was an unconscious effort for her to maintain that status quo, lest she might become too vulnerable.
I often thought that she would find Arsène Lupin an enigma: Who is he? Where did he come from? Why is he doing this? Can I trust him? Yet, it seems that she need not ask too many questions about my past. Trivial details, she might say. How ironic it was, to find that I had won her heart with such completeness, leaving her feeling entirely secure in my arms, while I would continue to experience nuances of uneasiness as she set her eyes upon me. Perhaps I had set myself challenging standards in trying to please her. Perhaps I was too easy to please...
When Kelly finished her routine, she spread her arms over my shoulders and lay her upper body on top my back. Then she sighed as if she had entered a blissful portal, before comically asking, "I hope I'm not crushing you?"
"Oh, yes, madamemoselle. I am being nearly crushed to death," I replied jestingly.
"Very well. I shall continue to lie here and crush you to death then."
"My dear, what a cruel thing to do!"
We must have lain in that position for the past half hour, not talking to each other but merely soaking up each other's presence. I could feel her supple breasts pressing against my back, her breath against my face, her kisses lingering on the nape of my neck and my ear. How I wished we could stay like this forever. Tracing her finger down my shoulder blade, she whispered into my ear, "I love you." Then, she rolled over and flopped on my right, and I found two glistening emeralds gazing at me dreamily.
"I love you too," I murmured. Kelly retreated into my arms and our lips met again.
A passionate lip-lock, anyone who were to witness this scene would have thought. Yet, there was something different when Kelly pressed her lips against mine; it was almost as if she had proceeded to suck out my soul. A degree possessiveness and insecurity that was uncharacteristic of her. Briefly, I caught a glimpse of her confusion - the mystery that lay deep within her heart - before it vanished again.
"Kelly..." I said finally, pulling myself away from her. It was not my intention to break off in such an abrupt fashion, but there was no other way which could spare me from hurting her feelings.
"Kelly, I... I... I'm sorry." Still holding her hands, I explained that I felt a little queasy and wanted to stop for a while. In reality, I could hardly breathe in that so-called passionate lip-lock.
"Oh," she replied, with a note of disappointment. She continued to lie in bed beside me, but turning her face away from me, as if she were nursing her resentment towards me.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me…" Peering over to look at her, I was taken aback when I saw traces of tears on her face. Not quite knowing how to react in such an awkward situation, I took her hands and started again, “My dear, I…”
I stopped, when our eyes met again. The resentment which I thought she had against me was false; I had misunderstood Kelly. The same confusion which I had witnessed earlier resurfaced. The threaded bead did not cease, but continued to flow down that familiar face, trickling down her neck and dripping onto our hands. Turning over, she attempted to sit up but it was as if she had lost all her strength and simply clung onto my chest, reaching out to weave her hands around me for support. Instinctively, I held her close to me, doing my best to comfort her.
Kelly, what have I done to hurt you so much?