Femme Fragile
Title: Femme fragile (1/?)
Beta: Schonste - a big hug and kisses to you
Rating: this part PG-13
Pairing: Bela/ B
Summary: Sometimes, things are not what they seem to be, even if you’re absolutely sure they are what they look like.
Warnings: het (kinda)
A/N: This story is, like the whole concept of it, not what it seems. You all know where my preferences in fanfiction are and what I would never write.
Also, ladies, fyi, we’re talking this woman here.
*oOo*
It was a gray, misty day that was completely insignificant to most people just because there was virtually nothing to it. The streets were bustling with sour-faced businessmen hurrying from a meeting to lunch and from lunch to another meeting; the streaks that the airplanes drew over the sky were barely visible before the heavy clouds; and the buildings towered silently over the busy traffic. It was a day that didn’t differ from a thousand others.
For one small sparrow, however, this was a pretty special day, though it wasn’t aware of that yet. It landed in front of a café to pick up some of the crumbs that were strewn on the street below a window. It hopped around nervously to avoid the feet stomping down all around it, threatening to crush the tiny animal.
The sparrow was just about to leave the bread and fly off to a safer location when something caught its eye.
From behind the café window, a human stared at it. He was almost unnaturally pale, and the thick dark sweater he wore, the black and green hair, and the black under his eyes only increased that effect. The eyes… They just watched the little bird, with an expression as close to a hungry and frustrated cat watching potential prey as he’d probably ever get.
The sparrow was petrified in fear. It was too late when it noticed the real cat coming up behind it.
*
Bela watched the sparrow being eaten with sudden disinterest. He figured it should be somewhat satisfying to him - showing him that he wasn’t the only one fate was cruel with.
It was November in Hamburg. The weather was crap, the air heavy with smog and Bela’s mood was just foul, which didn’t exactly help to raise everyone’s spirit. In fact, he’d managed to piss just about everyone off so that even Farin had cancelled their long-planned men’s night after they’d had a major fight on the telephone.
But in all honesty, he’d been like this for days. With a reason, even: you didn’t get dumped by your girlfriend every day. Especially not when you were Bela, when you were a rock star. And yet, he’d caught her with some random goth, fucking like crazy in their bed. She’d broken up with him before he’d even had the chance to react; her suitcases had been packed already and outside in the goth’s car.
Miserable and frustrated as he’d been, he’d flown to the States to the worst photo shoot of his life. Even more miserable, he’d returned to those places that held so many memories of happier days. He hadn’t even slept in his own bed - it was still the bed he’d caught her in with the goth. He’d tried, the first night, but after more than six hours of lying awake, he’d given up and gone to the couch.
And now, here he was.
His pale fingers closed tightly around the white cup before him. Women were all bitches, and it had been proved again. You just couldn’t trust them, they didn’t understand what was going on in any logical man’s head. All they had to offer was a cunt and breasts, if any. Yet somehow he kept falling for them. He didn’t even know why he had settled on them instead of men.
Bela sighed. It probably wasn’t the best thing to drown in self-pity here in the café. Still, his friends, even oh-so-complicated Farin, didn’t seem to have these problems with relationships.
The small bell above the door of the café made a ridiculously cheery sound as someone came in. Bela hated that bell. Though the café was a small one, that stupid bell had been tinkling all day until he’d been barely able to restrain himself not to rip it off and stomp on it so that the tinkling would be stopped forever.
Suddenly, a warm hand settled on his shoulder. ‘Entschuldigen Sie,’ he heard a heavily accented voice say, then the language switched to English. ‘Is that place on your table occupied, or would you mind if I sat down there?’
Bela turned around, glancing at the person who’d addressed him. Behind his chair, there was a woman, maybe in her late twenties. If he hadn’t been drowning in self-pity, he would have noticed that she was even attractive. She had about shoulder-length black hair, blue black-framed eyes and was entirely clad in black: miniskirt, coat, boots and all.
‘Yeah… Sure. Sit wherever you like,’ he mumbled, not really caring, then resumed staring into his cup. It was only half-full, and rather cold by now. He’d have to get a new one soon.
Bela was able to feel her eyes on him, trying to make out his half-hidden features. As if to challenge her stare, he abruptly raised his head to look at her and saw her for the first time since she’d arrived.
Her face was handsome, though not really feminine. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the makeup, he would’ve guessed it could belong to a boy, too. The lips were shiny, and her eyes stood out huge against the pale skin. She wasn’t a beauty in the classic sense - but looking back how boyish some of his girlfriends had been, this didn’t really matter to Bela. He was lonely.
‘So,’ she broke in, interrupting his silent reverie, ‘what are you doing here, moping in some corner?!’
They spent the rest of the afternoon talking. She called herself B, much to Bela’s amusement, but he didn’t tell her more than his first name, either. Although B was American, she’d spent a great deal of her life in Europe, traveling around with some kind of band or other. She was in Hamburg was because they’d be playing in some club later this week, and they wanted to have some kind of vacation.
As she said that, Bela had to laugh. ‘You’ve chosen a pretty bad time for a vacation in Hamburg, though,’ he explained. ‘You can’t go out and see anything in that weather.’ As if on cue, they heard lightening flash, and only seconds later, thunder followed, barely audible over the clattering of rain on the windows.
When Bela decided to go back home later, she came with him. They both knew where this had been leading all afternoon, and they were also adult enough not to pretend to be unaware of that.
*
Bela shook his head like a wet dog once he’d stepped into the hallway and turned the lights on. Little droplets landed everywhere on the polished furniture, all over the big mirror next to the door. B just laughed, a low, smoky sound. ‘You should probably get out of that sweater; it’s so soaked that you’d catch your death in it.’
Bela looked at her sideways, raising one eyebrow, but that only managed to make her laugh again.
‘Do I look like I’m gonna jump you right away?’
‘If not - what are you here for then?’
They had only had to walk through the rain from the car to the entrance door, yet this one minute had been sufficient enough to soak them completely. B’s hair was plastered to her face in wet black strands, her mascara smudged. Bela hadn’t brought a coat in first place, and the result was that his thick turtleneck sweater clung to his body uncomfortably.
Getting rid of it sounded like a good idea - the wet wool was becoming more and more chilling, and so he just pulled the sweater over his head. This was the critical moment - he’d met a lot of women who’d been appalled by his many tattoos and had preferred to leave at that point.
He only heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. It could have meant anything. But then, there was the clicking of pencil-thin heels on the wooden panels of the floor: and they were moving towards him.
Long, elegant fingers spread over his shoulder blades, and eventually, Bela felt her lips dragging over his skin. He closed his eyes; the contrast between her warm mouth and his cold skin was exciting him beyond belief.
There was the tap of the heels again, circling him slowly until the woman came to stop in front of him, her nails raking over his chest, his nipples, and he could feel her breath on his face when she leant in for a kiss.
What started out with a lick, a touching of lips, soon became one of the most exciting and most feverish kisses Bela had ever shared. He quickly closed the small space that was left between them, grabbed her ass with both hands - when something felt wrong. Terribly wrong. Suddenly, Bela realized that pressed against his own erection was another hard cock.
His hands flew up to the shoulders, and he pushed that - that whatever he’d just been making out with away from him.
‘What the fuck!’ he yelled, and not bothering with his sweater, grabbed his jacket from the hook and fled out of his own apartment into the rainy, cold Hamburg night.
~TBC