nixon mason grey
CRIMINAL
PLAYED BY MELON
Don't get too close, it's dark inside.
Posts: 161
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Post by nixon mason grey on Nov 9, 2012 3:01:07 GMT -5
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Nixon stood easily against her as she writhed in his grasp, seeming to try to escape his lips but not succeeding because he had her trapped. It made him smile against her skin, however, he didn't halt his ministrations. He knew what made her tick, and he felt like a part of him was getting back at her for surprising him with her tenderness. It was in that moment that he realized his weakness. It didn't matter how hard, or how intensely he went after her. If he couldn't keep her distracted she would be tender with him. And that would be the moment that everything turned around on him. He wasn't ready to give up the control. He wasn't ready for her to be that tender with him for a long time simply because he didn't want her to know about his past. He didn't want her to know that he had struggled growing up with the lack of love from his parents. He didn't want her to know that he was struggling now with his mother on his case about settling down and starting a family.
Nixon's sole purpose in this life, why he was created in the first place, was to carry on the name of the Grey family. If he hadn't been a boy, they would have kept going until they had gotten what they wanted. Nixon had known this fact when he was very young, for his parents didn't want him to become attached. They didn't want him to think that they were there for his benefit, that they were there to take care of him. That was what the help was for, and Nixon refused to get close to the nannies that he had had. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate all that they did for him, for he did, but his trust was shattered as a child. That was why it was so difficult for him to trust now. Paralleled with the lack of love, the lack of trust in his life had a profound effect on him. He didn't have any real friends because he didn't want them. No one could get close to him. The fact that Scout had was a mystery, a miracle. Not only was she his first girlfriend, but she was his first friend as well. Or, she was the first person that could be considered a friend.
Trying not to dwell on those thoughts now, he refocused his attention on her, but his momentary lapse of focus allowed her to buck her hips against him. Normally he would have been able to stand there and keep her trapped, but he hadn't been paying attention because of his damn wandering thoughts. Now he was irritated. Not because she had bested him, but because he had allowed himself to slip back into the memories of a past that he had long since buried. Hiding his frustration easily because that was what he did, he felt her body pressed tightly up against his. She was doing it on purpose, and while it did make hot desire course through him, he was too distracted to became as aroused as he normally did when he was around her in this fashion. However, he returned her kiss with a new fire, with a new passion simply so she wouldn't think that something was wrong.
Nothing was wrong. He just had to stop thinking about useless things.
His family, or lack thereof, was useless. His petty wants and desires to have a place to belong in a family setting were useless and tiresome in the grand scheme of things. He was as successful as he was because of his actions and his decisions, not because of his dead father's. While Nixon's father had not been involved with the criminal aspect of the business world, he certainly hadn't done as well with the legal investing company as Nixon did. And all that Nixon did with that company was legal. He would not connect his family's business with his illegal activities because he was smarter than that. The Grey Enterprise would not go up in flames if Nixon was ever discovered. He was no fool. But here he was, getting off topic again in his mind. Chiding himself, he watched as Scout excused herself from him, walking to the living room to where the fire was still crackling merrily. Furrowing his brow for the moment, he couldn't even relish in the fact that he had made her hot and bothered enough so that she had to separate from him.
Letting her have her small victory of escape, and still trying to work down the feelings that had erupted inside of him because of her finger sucking act, he sighed softly, letting her go. He couldn't force her to be around him.
Watching her go with worry, he tried to let it slide, tried not to think about her. But her lingering absence was a distraction as he busied himself cooking, thoughts of what she could be doing or what could be wrong making him second guess himself in his memorized recipe. Not wanting to ruin dinner, he made himself focus on the task at hand, and finished preparing the meal of fettuccine alfredo that the nannies had taught him how to make while he was growing up. It was why he was so good at cooking, so he supposed he owed a lot to them. Scout's continued absence bothered him, so naturally, he had to check on her. While the sauce finished simmering, he strolled quietly down the hallway, his eyes lighting to the pictures that lined it. Not noticing anything out of the ordinary, he reached her bedroom door and turned the handle softly. Pushing open the door, his eyes widened in slight surprise when he saw her form on her bed. Listening, he remained silent, hearing her soft, gentle breathing. He couldn't believe she had fallen asleep. He prayed she wasn't sick.
Watching her for a moment longer, he forced himself not to linger in case she woke up. He had already freaked her out once tonight, he wasn't going to do it again. Closing the door as softly as he opened it, he went back to the kitchen. She could eat when she woke up. He wasn't going anywhere.
He finished stirring the sauce, moving to strain the noodles so that he could at least get the meal into bowls and clean up the rest of the supplies. He wouldn't leave a mess in her kitchen. Making sure everything was situated, he dished equal portions into bowls he had found while exploring her kitchen. She had a bunch of supplies but they looked unused. That thought made him chuckle to himself. She certainly didn't spend her time in the kitchen, which was fine with him. He didn't follow society's view of women, obviously. He loved to cook anyway. Relaxing as he did what he was good at, as he did what came natural to him, he didn't realize she was in the kitchen until she hovered over the sauce pan. He had just poured helpings of the white sauce onto the green pasta, but there was enough left in the pot for her to dip her finger in and taste. For some reason, her praise over his cooking was something that made him smile humbly. "Thanks. When I was little the...I learned how to cook it when I was little."
He shrugged nonchalantly, nearly delving into a past that he wasn't ready to talk about yet. Biting his tongue, he went back to preparing the meal, grabbing the warm bowls and placing them on her bar like counter, where the chairs were. He poured the remainder of the ingredients into a tupperware container he had discovered and clicked the lid on, slipping it into the fridge. "Now you've got something for lunch this week. I'm certain you don't cook, considering your pans had a layer of dust on them." He teased her with a gentle smile. Shaking his head, he cleaned up quickly and efficiently, scrubbing the pots clean and laying them on a hand towel to dry. And who said Nixon Grey wasn't a house guy? Striding back to her, he sat down at one of the chairs, thankful for his sweatpants and tee shirt. He wouldn't have been comfortable in his other clothes, although he deemed them more appropriate. He was sure that Scout didn't mind what he wore anyway.
Chuckling at her next words, he sent her a look. "If you were going to commandeer me for such purposes, I think we'd have to move your things to my house. This place is hardly big enough." He said easily, not realizing the true weight of his words. Nixon's statement was innocent in his eyes. He didn't understand that he had basically just mentioned her moving in with him, and it was quite obvious that he was unaware. But it was quite profound how easily the words had slipped from his mouth. They were so natural. Grinning over to her now as he grabbed his fork, nodding to her bowl. "Aren't you going to try it?" His excitement over the meal that he had prepared for her was really rather sweet, and adorable. He just wanted to please her, and in more ways than one.
1536 words | scout! | I can't with him.
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Post by SCOUT ELAYNA GREY on Nov 9, 2012 10:16:05 GMT -5
theres a thunder in our hearts baby so much hate for the ones we love TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: THESE TWO >.< She licked the white sauce from her finger and watched him, so comfortable here in her tiny kitchen. She wondered how a billionaire became so good at cooking when she was horrible at it. Surely he had people to cook for him, and he definitely had enough money to just order out when he needed to eat. She, on the other hand, should have been good at cooking. She was the only female in her family after all. However, she'd never been the homey type, and her father had always cooked their meals. Instead, she'd taken on this protector role over her brother (who adamantly affirmed that he didn't need it, which she ignored). It was in her nature to be the familial Rottweiler persay, and she had always been ultraprotective of her family name. There were only three of them, after all.
Perhaps that was part of the reason she'd been afraid to tell Nixon about her twin. She didn't want Leo getting hurt, and while part of her trusted Nixon, another part of her knew he didn't know the whole story. If he ever found out she was a cop - and the cop assigned to throw him in jail nonetheless - then Leo was likely to become a prime target. She would rather harm befall her than her brother any day.
She was so caught up in her thoughts again, the tip of her finger running unconsciously along her bottom lip as she daydreamed, that she almost missed his thank you. He began explaining where his mysterious skills came from, but he stopped himself and corrected the sentence. She nodded slowly, instantly curious as to what he'd been about to say, but knowing not to push him to explain. As he began to set the table, she pulled some glasses from the cabinet and filled them both with water, adding them to the arrangement. She didn't need any more wine getting her all worked up again that was for sure.
Sliding into one of the rarely-used chairs, she crossed her ankles beneath the chair and bit her lip as she examined the spread. The smells were almost more than she could handle, and her mouth watered instantly. He sat near her and chuckled at her comment about keeping him to cook for her. She pouted playfully as he criticized her apartment for being too small. "I beg to differ; I think it's homey," she retorted, glancing around and laughing a light laugh. "It could be a place for you to hide away from all of the grandeur in your life." Nodding her head curtly as if that decided the matter, she couldn't help smiling at the words. She'd read nothing into his comments, figuring he was only kidding with her. She had to admit, she enjoyed having him here (even if he'd arrived under less than normal methods). She enjoyed having him in this personal part of her life.
She'd never had a man at her apartment, and she'd never wanted to. Leo was the only male who came here, and that was only because he basically spent the night with her when he wasn't with Marley. Sometimes she wondered why he even bothered having a dresser here since he was over there so often. But other than her twin brother, she didn't invite people into her home. She didn't like revealing that intimate side of her life - her family photos, her awards from high school and college, her bathroom filled with her shampoos and make-up and Scout-things - and he couldn't know how personal it all was to her. It was as if he was getting a private viewing of her most intimate side, and this was different than the intimacy they'd shared in the bedroom. This was a view at her real life, the one she'd kept so carefully tucked away from him and locked away from his view. There was yet another way they were similar: hiding their true selves behind locked doors and barred windows.
But Nixon had inserted himself successfully behind those walls, and she swallowed thickly at the realization. That familiar stab of fear made her wince as if it was a physical thing, and she was glad he didn't notice. There was no way she could explain to him that she'd just gotten scared that he'd find out she was a cop. That lie was constantly hanging over her head, as powerful as how he made her feel or her guilt over falling in love with him. Those things were becoming parts of her, parts that, if ripped away, would make her unravel completely.
He brought her back to reality as he urged her to try the food. Raising her eyebrows, she smiled distractedly at him and filled her plate with noodles and sauce. Although she smell was divine, she suddenly found she was no longer hungry. All she could think about was how badly she was lying to him, and how he'd been so romantic and open with her today. Unlike him, she already knew his secrets thanks to the nature of her job, so she didn't consider him keeping that from her a lie. It made her feel as if she was the only one holding back, and the guilt of her lies felt like a weight on her chest. Taking a few mouthfuls of the alfredo, she gently pushed it away and drank a long drink of water. Her eyes stayed carefully trained away from him, focused on the flickering fire. The flames calmed her, helped her to clear her mind, and she watched them for a moment as she took another drink. She needed to shape up and stop thinking about what was obvious in her mind and nonexistent in Nixon's. He couldn't find out her secrets, and she knew her sudden silence and lack of appetite would clue him in to something bothering her.
Turning back to look at him, her blue eyes turned to a brick wall hiding her traitorous thoughts, she smiled and wished the smile had reached her eyes. He could read her so well, and she had to convince him that nothing was wrong. "It's really good, but I think the wine filled me up. I'll have to add this to my lunch for tomorrow, I guess," she mentioned, smiling brilliantly, perhaps too brilliantly. Rising from the table, she carried the plate with her to the kitchen and carefully scraped what remained into a Tupperware container, closing it and sliding it into the fridge beside the extra he'd set aside for her. With her back turned to him, she had time to compose her face to convince him nothing was amiss. Tugging on her shorts to pull them down, she returned to her seat and managed a more natural smile.
Impulsively, she extended her legs, laying her feet in his lap with a raised eyebrow and a smile. Perhaps she could distract him from her sudden change of behavior with other methods. The touch of him beneath her legs would have sent her into a heated frenzy only an hour before, but now she felt as if an ice cold bucket of water had been poured over her. The detective in her was berating her for being so foolish as to let her guard down. And what was she thinking, falling asleep with him in her house? What if he'd found her certificates from the police academy? Or her diploma? Or her badge? She reminded her subconscious detective that her badge was safely tucked in her desk at work to prevent such a thing from happening. Not that she'd been planning on bringing Nixon back to her apartment (that connected back to her issues with letting men that far into her personal life, and furthermore to her issues with commitment), but now that he was here, she was very close to being found out. Mentally, she was distracted momentarily as she ran through a checklist of the things he could have seen if she hadn't been careful enough. Satisfied that her certificates and diplomas were safely tucked away among some unassuming telephone and utility bills in her filing case in her bedroom, she was able to concentrate on him once more.
Flexing her ankles, she ran her heels over his lap, her eyes glinting provocatively. "In my defense, I did tell you I wasn't hungry anymore after you decided to try to give me a heart attack," she pointed out in a low voice, a smile quirking up the side of her mouth. What was the best way to distract him from her being distracted? To make him believe it was something else entirely that had her so mussed.
Rising smoothly from her chair, she rounded the corner of the table and bit her bottom lip as a coy smile teased her lips. Slowly, she slid into his lap, her legs draped over one side of him, and her arms wrapping around his neck to balance her descent. She eyed him for a moment and then smiled once more, twisting her upper body so she could reach his plate of food. Dipping her finger into the alfredo sauce, she turned back to face him, her finger reaching for his mouth and slipping between his teeth. "Suck," she commanded, her eyes flashing heatedly as she waited to see if he would acquiesce. tell me that we both matter dont we
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nixon mason grey
CRIMINAL
PLAYED BY MELON
Don't get too close, it's dark inside.
Posts: 161
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Post by nixon mason grey on Nov 9, 2012 11:50:28 GMT -5
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He had slipped up and that had bothered him more than he ever thought that it would. He never made mistakes, he never divulged information that he was so intent on keeping locked up. His past was supposed to stay in the past. The secrets, the lies, the everything. He didn't want anyone knowing where he came from or how he was brought up. While it was obvious that he didn't have the best relationship with his mother, no one knew how bad it really was. When Nixon's father died, he had shown no remorse. Everyone believed he was in shock, everyone believed that that was how he needed to deal with the passing of the older man from the heart attack. The truth was, Nixon was happy that he was dead. The man had made Nixon's life a living hell, and he could only rejoice when the doctor's pronounced him dead. While his mother acted devastated, he knew that that was also a lie. The woman loved herself more than she could ever love anyone else, and he didn't believe a word that came out of her mouth. If she would just hurry up and croak already, things would be a lot better for everyone, especially himself.
He wouldn't have to have his weekly meeting with her, going to dinner or having her in his home. He hated having her in his home. She always found something to complain about, she always found something to push him about. It was all that he could do not to lose his temper, for even though he hated the woman, he knew better than to disrespect her. She had given birth to him after all, which wasn't something that he liked to think about. The fact that two horrendous people could be his parents was sickening.
It was what made him never want to have his own children. He would never be a good father and that was okay with him. It wasn't something that disappointed him. He never believed that he would settle down with someone, until Scout came along. And even though, could he ever make a bigger commitment then this? Fear exploded in his chest as he thought about marrying someone, marrying her. He couldn't do it. He could not pledge himself to someone in that fashion, in that way. A ring, a ceremony, would mean he was completely and utterly trapped. And Nixon never liked feeling trapped. At the very thought of being married, he suddenly felt extremely claustrophobic. The apartment felt like it was closing in on him, and as he tried desperately to focus on the plate of food in front of him, he knew that he was losing his composure, losing his control. But he knew how to get it back, and after taking a deep breath and a bite of the pasta in front of him, he forced himself to get things under control. What was he thinking? He could not lose himself in front of her. If he did, he would let the rest of his walls down and that was not something that he wanted to happen. Only her tenderness could get through his carefully constructed defense, and he was determined not to let her do that again. Although she had surprised him with it last time, he was going to be prepared for it at all times. He was ready. He wasn't going to be surprised again.
Turning his eyes to her as she spoke up in defense of her apartment, he allowed a wry smile to appear on his lips, shaking his head as he continued to eat the alfredo. It had to be one of his favorite meals that he prepared. "Homey. Right, if you say so. And who says I wanted an escape?" He questioned her evenly, his focus on his plate of food. He didn't want to look to see her expression in response to his words in case he hurt her all over again. But it was true. Nixon loved his lifestyle. He was rich and he was proud of that fact. He could do what he wanted, he could be who he wanted and no one could tell him any different. He could quit his illegal activities now and be set for life because of his fortune, but he was money hungry, he was power hungry. His addiction to power was obvious, but he had always tried to prove himself from when he was a small boy. His thirst for approval was almost as great as his need for that power, and together, it was a dangerous combination. It made him lose sight of what his company was supposed to be about. It made him delve into the criminal side of things. Everyone had a reason as to why they did what they did. Nixon's was unclear to anyone who knew him.
To them, he didn't need the extra money. The investment company that made up the Grey Enterprise was only becoming more and more successful. It was where most of Nixon's money came from. But it wasn't enough. He had gotten greedy in his young age, and he hadn't been able to stop his criminal activity as he got older. It just wasn't possible.
Shaking his head a bit, he took another bite of his food and then became increasingly aware of her silence beside him. It was an uncomfortable silence, one that he wasn't used to experiencing while around her. His grey eyes cut quickly to her as she pushed her plate away from her after only taking about three bites. Watching her as she drank a sip of water, his brow furrowed in concern and suspicion. Something was wrong with her. It was clear, even though she was trying desperately to hide it from him. And of course, he need to hide it from him made hidden alarms go off within his mind. What was she hiding? Why didn't she want to tell him that something was bothering her? All of these thoughts ran through his mind, and it became obvious that Nixon was extremely perceptive. He had to be in his line of work, for it was the only way that he could judge a person. He picked up on small ticks, on behaviors, on habits. And this was out of the norm for her. He forced himself to remain normal though, not wanting to alert her to the fact that he was onto her. He took another bite of his pasta, watching her get up to clear her plate, announcing that the win had filled her up.
That was unbelievable, simply because she had only taken about four sips of wine before pouring it down the drain. Did she think that he wouldn't notice things like that? She might be a detective, and she might pick up on things that maybe the normal person wouldn't, but Nixon was not normal. In his line of work he always had to be suspicious, he always had to be guarded and wary. And now, as she continued lying to him in order to hide something, he was wary. His calculating eyes watched, accepting her excuse. "Maybe your nap has something to do with your lack of an appetite." He offered as an attempt to remain normal, to help her explain her sudden change. It was true. Sometimes when he woke up first thing in the morning he wasn't hungry. Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, he continued eating his own meal, finishing most of it before pushing his plate away as well. He didn't expect her to clear it. That was something that he could and would do on his own, but it seemed she had other ideas. When she dropped down in her chair, he suddenly became aware of her feet in his lap. Raising an eyebrow, he stared across the table at her, emotionless.
Nixon was a professional at hiding his thoughts and his feelings. He had to do that now because of his distrust in her. She was keeping something from him and that bothered him. He could feel his irritation and his anger climbing, but those familiar emotions were partnered with hurt. Did his admission really mean that little to her? Did it really have no impact on her whatsoever if she couldn't even tell him what was wrong? The spark that ignited behind his normally composed eyes gave proof to his mounting fury, and her advances did nothing to turn him on. He refused to allow it.
As she spoke up with a provocative gleam to her eyes, he suddenly figured out what she was trying to do. She was trying to distract him from her distraction. That irritation, that impatience, flared to life as she tried to keep his attention focused on her wants and her needs and her desires, but he wanted nothing to do with that at the moment. His body went rigid, his shoulders tensing as she got up to walk around the table to him. He found that he didn't want her touching him if she couldn't even be honest with him. He remained tense as she climbed into his lap, which normally would have been welcomed but now it wasn't something that he wanted at all. As she tried to be coy with him, he stared heatedly forward, his anger obvious now. When she dipped her finger in the sauce on his plate and ran it across his teeth, he didn't follow her command. Instead, his hand reached up to claim her wrist, not roughly, and he pulled her finger free. His eyes steamed and he realized that this evening had simply gone to shit because of his inability to trust her. He gently removed her from his lap, standing as soon as he was free to keep himself protected from her advances.
Cutting his gaze to her, he tried to let his anger show through more than his hurt. "I might not know what love is, Scout, but I'm fairly certain that you can't have it without honesty. I'm not expecting to know your life story. I know some things need to remain hidden. But...if something's wrong, don't hide it from me because maybe, just maybe, I can help. Don't try to distract me from seeing what I've already see." He finished, guarded even as he spoke now. His inability to trust her stemmed from her inability to be honest with him. Hypocritical of him, yes, but he wasn't hiding much from her. He felt like she didn't want him to see her feelings, to see her emotions. And while he didn't show much emotion in front of her, it was because of his way of life. He was just emotionless. He was never raised to show his feelings, to explain the,. But he was willing to try, which was more than he could say for her.
1536 words | scout! | I can't with him.
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Post by SCOUT ELAYNA GREY on Nov 9, 2012 14:16:07 GMT -5
theres a thunder in our hearts baby so much hate for the ones we love TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: THESE TWO >.< When he laughed at her joke about her apartment being homey, she smiled, but his next words hit her like a ton of bricks. He didn't bother to look up at her as he basically told her he had no need to leave any fragment of his life behind at any time. It shouldn't have bothered her, but it did, and it amplified her anguish over the secrets she was keeping from him. She ignored the question out of a fear of retorting inappropriately. It wasn't like she was asking him to move in with her or something. It made her doubt herself, doubt this entire relationship, and wonder why the hell she was still here? Obviously, it was her apartment, and she wouldn't be the one to leave it, but she was suddenly on edge and had to excuse herself to empty her plate. As if she'd had an appetite before that little declaration.
They were simple words, but they hurt her more than he could know. Of course he didn't want to escape from his life. He'd never professed to do so before, so why should being with her make him want to leave it? She didn't want him to walk away from it all (except for the small fact that she wished he wasn't engaging in illegal activities so they could actually have a normal relationship without all of these lies), but she fancied the idea of being able to escape here with him. Here, in her home. She'd been to his home, and one of his condos, and she'd loved them both. However, she'd allowed him to stay within this personal bubble of her life, welcomed him in even, and now he was shooting that all down to admit he didn't give a fuck about leaving his rich lifestyle. It hurt her and made her angry, and that was when she began wondering how close she'd been to giving her secrets all away. How close had he come, while she slept, to finding out who she really was?
Guilt and worry and anger rested in her chest as she took her place back at the table and put her feet in his lap. Despite her attempts to convince him nothing was amiss, he read her like a book, in his usual fashion. She hated that too. She hated that he could see right through her, even when she was doing her best to build her defenses against him. He was so aptly garrisoned with defenses to shut her out, and she was like an open book to him. She'd never been so readable to anyone in her entire life (not even her father who was the king of telling when someone was lying), and the new sensation frustrated her and put her more on edge. The only way she could begin to read Nixon was through his eyes. He excelled at locking himself down, but she'd seen behind that steel wall to what lay beneath, and she could tell when his defenses were up.
He knew. He knew the moment she touched him that there was something wrong with her. She should've known better. He could read her better physically than anyone on the planet; it was their best form of communication. The second she'd made contact with him, it was as if a direct connection from her brain sent him signals broadcasting her unrest and tension. His gray eyes flashed dangerously, and she was bitterly aware that a dangerously powerful criminal sat across the table from her.
Unconsciously, it became a power struggle between them, akin to the one that first night at his birthday party when he'd suspected she was more than she admitted. Deciding to try a different tactic now, she rose from the table and crossed to him, pulling together her honest attraction to him in an attempt to pull the wool over his eyes. If she could play it off as her hormones getting the best of her, then she could convince him nothing had ever happened. That actually worked for some people, didn't it?
Not with Nixon Grey apparently.
The moment she sat in his lap, she felt his rigid body and felt his heated gaze on her. She was literally in the lap of a dragon, his hot ire only moments from searing her beyond repair. She was desperate to redirect that anger, to get him to forget about her lapse in control, and she dipped her finger in the sauce so she didn't have to look into those boiling eyes. His anger was not something he hid well, and it rolled off of him in waves as she sat so close to him. Her finger entered his mouth, but she saw his eyes harden further as his hand reached up to twist her wrist away from him. It didn't hurt, but it surprised her. He wasn't convinced in the least. She, Scout Shepherd, had failed to do the one thing she'd always been good at: lie to a criminal.
It was true, she was actually closed to some people. Some people couldn't read her like a scandalous romance novel opened on a priest's desk. There were actually people in the world who Scout could lie to, but Nixon Grey was not one of them.
Strongly, yet maintaining gentleness, he lifted her from his lap and deposited her unceremoniously on her feet. Her heart fell with fear and anxiety, her hand, still damp from the pasta sauce, dropping to her side as the realization hit her. He was going to find out. She wasn't going to be able to keep this from him. Somehow, she didn't know how he did it, he would know and he would kill her. Or, if he didn't kill her directly, he would simply pay someone to do so. It wasn't only that epitome that hit her, however. What hurt even worse was the pang of loss. She'd felt it earlier, when she'd told him to leave and cried in the shower. This was different though. She wasn't mad at him this time. She was the culprit now, and she was going to lose him because of her own indiscretions and inability to fall in love with a man she shouldn't be in love with.
She felt like a cowering fawn, watching as the lion rose to end her. Unable to move, her nostrils flared with an exhalation of breath she couldn't control. Her heart was beating rapidly, and she couldn't have been more scared if he'd been holding a gun to her head. At least then she would have something solid to put her fear on instead of this ethereal, consuming panic that surrounded her. Her lips parted and she sucked in a broken breath as he finally spoke. "It's not like you've told me everything," she blamed in a small voice. "I don't even know if your parents are alive or dead. You know everything about my family now that you know about my brother. How fair is that?"
Petulance would not win her this war. Feeling defeated, she shook her head and fished for some way to explain herself. Unfortunately, or fortunately, she was jarred violently out of her thoughts by the telephone. Looking away from him, she glanced at the clock to see it was already ten o'clock at night. Who would be calling her this late? She walked to the phone in a fog, lifting it and answering it, careful to keep the emotions she was feeling out of her voice. She almost dropped the phone as her hand shook violently as she recognized the voice on the other end of the line.
"Scout?" came her father's voice, sounding much smaller than she'd ever heard him.
"Dad..." she managed, her attention temporarily diverted from Nixon to the telephone. Her father only called after nine if something was wrong. Worry instantly crashed over the fear she'd been feeling, her worry about her father greater than any worry she could have for herself. "What's wrong?"
Her father chuckled on the other end of the line, a reaction she was unaccustomed to hearing from him. She felt Nixon's eyes burning into her, probably pissed about this interruption to their argument, but she ignored him.
"I know Leo's back in town, and I figured now was as good a time as any. He won't talk to me, but I need to tell you both, so I figured I would tell you and you could tell him. He'll listen to you, Scout, and maybe he'll even care." What was he talking about?
"Dad, what are you talking about?" she asked finally, her voice squeaking involuntarily.
"It's nothing, and I'm fine now, but I didn't want to burden you with it," her father continued, only making her worry more.
"What is it?" she asked sternly. If it was something so bad that he didn't want to tell her, then she wanted him to get it over with. Just tear off the bandaid. She had plenty to worry about already.
"About a month ago, I had a heart attack."
The words almost made her drop the phone, and she had to brace herself against the counter. She closed her eyes as her heart fell from her chest, worry, resentment, and upset overwhelming her simultaneously. "And you waited until now to tell me this?"
"I told you, it wasn't a big deal, and I'm fine now. They put a few stints in, and I'm fine. Tip top shape even!" he replied sunnily, his characteristic cover when he knew something he said had piqued her. She was already edgy because of her escalating fight with Nixon over their trust issues, and now this.
"Dad..." she trailed off, hearing Nixon's words echoing in her mind as her anger rose. She was angry because she was worried about him. Nixon was right. She needed to be honest, if that was possible. Sighing into the phone, hearing her own voice echo on her father's end, she closed her eyes. "I love you..." she whispered, her throat tightening with the words. She wasn't used to admitting her feelings to her father, and she heard his uncomfortable silence on the line as she continued. "I wish you'd told me before now. I would've come to be with you."
"I know, Scout, and that's why I didn't want you to know. I know how important your job on the force is, and I didn't want to compromise that."
Instantly, her eyes snapped up toward Nixon. There are more important things, she thought to herself. Drawing in a deep breath, she answered him, "Being with you when you need me is more important than any of that." Her eyes regarded Nixon the entire time, and her message was subconsciously for him as well. She couldn't be honest with him about her job because she would lose him, and it would put him in danger, but he meant more to her than anything outside of her family. She had to be honest with him about everything else.
"I'll let you get to sleep, honey. I... miss you, Scout."
Her father's admission brought tears to her eyes since she knew how hard it was for him to admit his feelings. Telling her he missed her was the closest he would come to telling her he loved her. Nodding her head although her father couldn't see her through the phone, she swallowed. "I miss you too, Dad."
She hung up the phone and stared at her hand for a moment before looking up at Nixon, remembering the anger in his eyes and her fear from before. Now, she felt numb and dead, devoid of being able to protect herself. She was too raw from all of the feelings she'd had coursing through her all night, and she felt like she had a hormonal hangover.
Forcing herself to look into those gray eyes, she allowed the words to flow from whatever heart she had left after having it broken and beaten all night long. "That was my father," she explained flatly, hoping for once that he wouldn't interrupt her. Tears rose to her eyes as she voiced the truth she'd just heard, "He had a heart attack a month ago." She choked on a sob before she could continue, but she pressed resolutely along. "He didn't even trust me enough to tell me until now. My own father..."
She supposed she got her trust issues honestly. The pain from her father's omission convinced her Nixon was right. Even if she couldn't tell him she was a detective, she had to be honest about what she was feeling. Shaking her head, she pulled in a cleansing breath that filled her lungs. "I was mad at you," she admitted, "Really mad at you. When you disappeared, and just now." She motioned toward the table. "I shouldn't be, but I am. I just..."
"I didn't say that about my apartment to ask you to live with me or anything," she barreled on, "I haven't ever had a man here. It's not something I want men to see, this personal side of me, so I keep them away. I don't let them in. But here you are. You're right in the middle of it. And then, when I make a joke about you escaping to be here with me, you say you don't want that."
Rolling her eyes, she stamped her foot into the floor and walked swiftly away from him, past the couch, to a bookshelf situated on the wall on the far side of the living room. Finding what she wanted, she returned to him and dropped a photo album on the table, pushing through the pages until she found what she was looking for. Stabbing the page with her slender finger, she looked at him, hoping he was listening and not writing her off. She wouldn't tell him about the guilt she'd been feeling over her job, but she had to be honest with him so she was. She was angry about how he'd reacted, even if he hadn't meant anything about it. She wasn't used to letting people in, and she was far more closed off than her social younger brother.
Her finger lay on a picture of her parents, a picture her father didn't know she had. She'd found it as a child and hidden it away, cherishing the image of a mother she'd never seen. Always having wondered why she had blond hair when both her brother and father had dark brown hair, she'd seen the reason the moment she'd found this picture. Her parents were laughing (another rare sight for her father), ignoring the camera and smiling jovially at one another. Zap's arms were twined around his wife, and her hands balanced her against his thighs as he obviously tugged her toward him in the photograph. She was off balance, but he held her firmly, and they were laughing over some shared joy Scout would never know. Her mother's blue eyes were open, staring so lovingly up at her husband it was almost embarrassing to look at, and her golden hair cupped her face in such a feminine way that Scout wished she'd inherited. A river sparkled behind them, perhaps somewhere in Europe or on their honeymoon Scout didn't know, but the eye was always drawn back to the two of them, the crystalline water paling in comparison to the beauty of the two young people in love.
"My entire life, I have wanted this, this happiness," she admitted, staring at the picture so she didn't have to look at him. This was too hard for her to admit. "And I've never felt it."
"Until I met you," she whispered thickly. Her body tensed imperceptibly. It was true. She'd never felt so alive as she was when she was with him. If this wasn't love, then she didn't want to know what was because what she was feeling was too overpowering. "And the idea that you wouldn't want some vital part of me is so terrifying that I can't bear it," she confessed, finally looking at him. Unable to hide the truth from him, she hoped he saw the sincerity in her eyes. She didn't touch him, afraid he wouldn't want it again, and she couldn't stand the rejection a second time. tell me that we both matter dont we
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nixon mason grey
CRIMINAL
PLAYED BY MELON
Don't get too close, it's dark inside.
Posts: 161
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Post by nixon mason grey on Nov 9, 2012 21:01:05 GMT -5
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Nixon had never had to watch what he said around people. Of course he had to remain professional around his business partners and his employees, but never before did he have to think of someone else before he spoke in fear of hurting them. Fortunately, he didn't see the initial look of pain that crossed Scout's features when he admitted that he didn't want an escape from his rich lifestyle. It came out exactly the way that he meant it, but he didn't realize the sting that accompanied that truth. If he had then he might had reworded things so that they didn't sound as grisly. That wasn't to say that he didn't enjoy this. He did, at least, some parts of it anyway. He didn't like that it seemed to be a constant fight since his arrival, but apparently there was nothing that he could do to change that.
Taking a deep breath to slow his racing thoughts, he exhaled slowly, trying to make sense of the things that he was thinking and feeling. Nixon knew that he was an asshole. He had never labeled himself as anything else, had never truly referred to himself as a gentleman when it came down to his personal relations. He had always been the man to stay with a woman for as long as he wanted to fuck her, and no longer. Usually, with him, that was two days at the most. He never went to the same woman again, he never called another number that he promised he had taken down in his cell phone. He didn't need stalkers, he didn't need the random woman that would throw herself all over him. He had his public image to withhold and he would rather be known as the billionaire playboy then the billionaire who was being stalked by the next crazed female.
He wasn't thinking that Scout was going to be like that. He didn't think she would follow his every movement, but how foolish that was. She was the very person that would bring about his very ruin, and his naivety in this situation was something that he would soon come to regret. However, that wasn't now. Now he needed to think about the woman that he had just basically pledged his love to. The words weren't a lie, they weren't something that he wanted to take back. He wasn't saying those things just so that he could seduce her. He could entangle her without words, with his touches alone. He didn't need any help. But the anger that rippled through his chest was something that he hadn't really felt before. It was a different kind of anger. It was a rage mirrored with hurt, especially because of what they had just confessed. It was true that he was a mastermind at hiding what he was feeling, and in this moment, he was thankful for his ability to mask the pain that had bloomed in his heart. She had seemed to be so honest earlier, about Leo. But now she was throwing her dishonesty, her mistrust in his face yet again.
Nixon didn't trust her. He wanted to. He wanted so badly to trust her, but as of right now, she had given him no reason to. He knew that he hadn't truly given her a reason to trust him either, but at least he was successful in hiding things from her so she wouldn't suspect. He had that ball in his court, but for how long, he didn't know. The fury that he was feeling at this moment in time was something that he desperately needed to gain control over, for he didn't know what he was going to do. His hand couldn't take punching another wall because he was certain that he would break the already sensitive knuckles. However, the frustration that was quickly building was something that he needed to release. As he stood away from her after depositing her gently from his lap, he made sure to keep his distance. He didn't want her to surprise him with her momentary gentleness, her random acts of tenderness. If that happened she would tame him almost instantly and that was not something that he wanted right now. He wouldn't be able to refuse her if she tried to be soft and he wasn't in the mindset to accept that.
Looking like a cornered animal, Nixon stacked up his defenses, his steel grey eyes holding nothing but animosity and hostility. The man could perform a one eighty on his emotions in seconds, depending on what irked him the right way. This time, it was her dishonesty. Last time, it had been the same thing, however, that had been his fault. He was not in the wrong here, and as her words reached his ears, his jaw clenched in response. Grinding his teeth together in aggravation, he was about to respond to her, but her phone started ringing. What did she expected to hear from him? That his father was dead, and he believed the world to be a better place without him? Good riddance to the old man? Did she want to hear him say that his mother was nothing but a greedy leech that told him time and time again that he was not living up to the Grey family name because of his continued single relationship status? That he wouldn't have served his purpose until he produced a male heir?
He wasn't going to give her his life story.
He wasn't going to show her how pathetic, how pitiful his upbringing really was. The point was he was fine now without his parents, without his old life. He didn't want to bring up the past because it wasn't important, but it was obvious that his lack of information was affecting her, especially now because he knew about her father and her brother. Would she continue to hold those relations over his head, dangling them as sufficient proof that she was the only one being open in this relationship? Nixon wanted to leave. He wanted to walk out right now and never come back but he knew that his heart would never allow him to. If he walked out on her now, she would never take him back and neither of them could survive that separation. He was furious, but he wasn't stupid. He stood there as she answered the phone, holding in his anger as best as he could. He knew that he was failing miserably, and that only proved to irritate him further. His grey eyes flashed menacingly as she answered the phone, cursing her for getting a relief from this fight, this argument.
He wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily, but he had nothing to say in response to her statement. No it wasn't fair that he knew about her family but that didn't give him the obligation to tell her about his own. He didn't have any information to give her. He was raised by the nannies and whatever manners, whatever beliefs that he had harvested because of their upbringing were long since tossed away. He had made himself into the man that he was today without any outside influences, or so he thought. He would not accept that he had turned out the way that he had because of the absences of his mother and father. That was not the person that he was. He took credit for his own mistakes and his own choices. But that wasn't the point here. She had tried directing him away from the situation at hand once again and he was pissed because of it. As he heard her address her mystery caller, his eyes only flashed as she heard that it was her father. Well wasn't that nice.
Shaking his head because of his unhappiness over the situation, he swung around the island bar in her kitchen, grabbing the wineglass that had been previously filled with the red liquid. Reaching for the bottle once more, he tore the cork off in his anger, hearing the pop as he succeeded in opening the bottle. Dumping the alcohol into the wineglass, he didn't stop until it was halfway full. Nearly slamming the bottle down onto the counter, he tried to keep his composure but it was obvious that he was failing miserably. His anger was building like a freight train with no hopes of slowing it down. Making sure he put the wine bottle back as safely as he could, he downed the glass that he had prepared for himself, not caring if she thought he was being an asshole for drinking. She knew better than anyone else that he could hold his liquor. However, he did wish that he could get so drunk that he didn't feel anymore.
He missed the old Nixon that didn't feel these emotions. Everything was less confusing, everything was less difficult to handle. He didn't need to worry about pleasing anyone but himself and he certainly didn't need to walk around on eggshells. What Scout needed to understand that he was still a horrible person, even underneath it all. She couldn't perform some miracle and save him from the darkness that had claimed his soul. He didn't need to be saved. He didn't need to be sheltered. The world was a bad place. It was a fucked up place. And Nixon was only a small ,small part of that. He had been dealt a shitty hand when it came to his parents, but he was making it better for himself. He had made it better for himself, or so he desperately tried to believe.
The truth of the matter was that Scout would not be able to find an individual who was more alone than the notorious Nixon Grey. His lack of relationships, his lack of commitments had everything to do with his solitary nature. He didn't know how to handle himself when it came to loving, when it came to caring about someone so he had shied away from it in the past. She had just managed to pull him in, and now he was addicted to the way that she made him feel. It was preposterous that someone could want him for some reason other than his money, but Scout did. She hadn't asked him for a thing, not like the other girls. And the sincerity in the looks that she sometimes gave him when she wasn't angry with him were looks that he believed. So why couldn't she be that honest with him when it came to her words? Why couldn't he be honest with her? The honest he got with her was when his walls came down. But to get those walls down, a lot of work had to be done. It would be a great feat to accomplish, and she had managed to do it twice already. But not for very long. However, it was still a great thing that she had managed to do.
But he was afraid of that. He was afraid of her pulling his walls down because he didn't know if he could build them back up. It had taken him twenty-seven years to build those walls up and he could not let them fall so easily. Sighing softly after he finished his glass of wine, he looked to her as she continued speaking to her father, feeling her eyes hit him as she said that being with her father when he needed her was more important than anything else. With his uncanny ability to read her, he knew that she meant that for him as well, and he raised an eyebrow in response. Did he need Scout?
He wanted to say no. He desperately wanted to say no. He didn't need anyone. He wasn't some victim that needed to be rescued. He refused to look at himself that way, he refused to be that weak. But no matter how often or how hard he denied his need for Scout, he knew that it wasn't true. He did need her. He hadn't been right for that week without her. Nothing had been okay. His anger all but dissipated as she finished the conversation with her father, Nixon's worry for Scout getting the best of him as she looked like she had tears in her eyes. Standing with the counter as a barricade between him and her, Nixon studied her quietly, not wanting to invade on her conversation but knowing that if she needed privacy, she would have gone to her bedroom.
Biting the inside of his cheek as she hung up with her dad, his gaze softened as she began to explain what had just happened, obviously trying to be honest with him. Well, that was certainly a start. Although, Nixon felt his anger subsiding as she choked on a sob, his heart going out to her. He would never understand what she felt for her father. It just wasn't going to happen. But he could sympathize with her because he loved her. "Love, I don't think it's because he didn't trust you." But his words might have reached deaf ears for all he knew because she began speaking once more, looking devastated. He wasn't the comforting type. He couldn't do it, not well. He had never comforted someone in his life, he had never wanted to, had never had the urge. But he wished he could take away the pain she felt now, knowing it was partly his fault.
As she announced that she was mad at him, he couldn't say that he was surprised. But her explanation threw him. He hadn't meant his words to hurt her, but somehow he knew that they would. "Scout, I..." He trailed off, trying to explain himself. But she turned away from him in that moment, causing a flash of fury to ignite. So she could have her say, but he couldn't have his? Sooner than he could show his indignation over her actions, she was returning to him with a book in her hand. Furrowing his brow, not understanding, he looked over at the book as she placed it on the kitchen table, displaying pictures. A photo album. Desperation filled his eyes for a moment. He didn't want to see that. It was only going to be a remind of what he had never had. Chiding himself immediately, he shook it off. He didn't want it anyway. It wasn't important. Crossing the space between them by walking around the counter, he looked down at what she was showing him.
A picture of her parents together, happy, smiling, in love. His lips parted in silent surprise, in silent awe that two people could obviously care about one another so much. It couldn't be possible, it couldn't be real. His hands reached in wonder for the album, picking it up delicately, as if it was made of glass. A myriad of emotions played across his features as he just stared at the picture of her parents. His own parents had never had a picture like that. The family portraits they had done were never candid, always professional and prepared for. The smiles weren't real, they never were, and his mother and father never looking this care free with one another. Longing filled his eyes as he continued staring until her voice reached him, bringing him back to life. Blinking wildly, freeing himself from his reverie, he smacked the book close, angry with himself for being so soft.
Turning his eyes back to hers, he was about to reply with some biting remark, trying to work up his fury again, but it wouldn't come. He was spent. He didn't want to fight anymore, he couldn't find the urge to demand, to be intense. For a moment, the notorious Nixon Grey looked about as lost as he truly was. But yet again, he stubbornly built his walls back up, determined not to look weak in front of her. "You're such a fool, Scout."
He said, the words barely a whisper on his lips. It was the truth. She was a fool. For loving him, for caring for him, for falling for him in the first place. He shook his head wildly, not wanting to be accused of being mean yet again. "You don't see your worth. I...I could never not want a part of you. You...you make me feel things that I've never felt before. I don't want to stop feeling them....but..." He paused for a moment, his fingers clenching around the photo album that he still held tightly. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, looking up at her from the book with only pain readable in his eyes. "You've made a mistake. I'm not lovable. My family...my parents....you just..." Frustration filled him as he tried to explain himself but he just honestly couldn't find the right words. Cursing himself inwardly, he stepped back, as if posed to run. But he wouldn't run. She had berated him from doing that earlier. But he needed to clear his head. He needed space to understand what he was feeling.
"You should choose someone else to love, Scout. Before I hurt you worse than I can ever possibly repair." He whispered softly once more and turned away from her in that moment.
"I need...just..."
He was panicking in that moment, the panic that she had felt earlier but at a level that he had never felt before. He was so in love with her that giving her the decision to walk away terrified him. Showing her that he was clearly just as enamored as she was, Nixon walked quickly to the bathroom, feeling out of his element, feeling vulnerable. He shut the door quickly, not wanting to lock it because it wasn't his place. Striding quickly to the sink, he started the water, turning the faucet knobs on to drown out any noise. He dunked his hands under the water, not even feeling the scalding temperature as he buried his face in what little water pooled in his gathered fingers. His hands trembled with the reality of the situation, his breath coming in fast gasps as he tried to handle himself. Never before had he wanted someone so desperately just to love him, to want him. What was happening to him?
3044 words | scout! | I can't with him.
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Post by SCOUT ELAYNA GREY on Nov 9, 2012 22:12:40 GMT -5
theres a thunder in our hearts baby so much hate for the ones we love TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: THESE TWO >.< She watched in fascination as he became enthralled with the photo album, absentmindedly picking it up from the table and staring at the picture of her parents. Her heart broke as emotions crossed his face. Although he remained guarded, he looked like a sad little boy as he stared longingly down at the picture before him. She bit her lip and swallowed heavily as she watched him, unsure what to say as he examined the image.
As suddenly as he'd picked it up, he slammed the album shut and stood silently for a moment. She'd just poured out her true feelings, her self-consciousness, to him, and she was so frightened that he would shut her down and say it wasn't enough. Was anything she did ever enough? She'd been an over-achiever her entire life because of the affection she lacked from her father? Was her attachment to Nixon some extension of her daddy complex?
No. She loved Nixon completely separate from his approval. She'd fallen for him when he openly disapproved of her, however unintentionally, and her desire for him was never based off of simply wanting his attention. Everything about him - his intensity, his power, the way he burned through her with his eyes, the way his touch alone could make her moan - was desirable to her. She was listless without him and completely surrendered to him in every way. If he ever disappeared again, she knew she would break into a million pieces because he would take a part of her soul with him.
She couldn't think about that now. She couldn't think about losing him, even if she was afraid she was only a step away from it. He brought her back to reality as his eyes hardened when he looked at her. He called her a fool, and her anger flared into existence.
"You ass..." she hissed, burnt by the words and feeling her chest implode from the contact. She backed a step away from him, suddenly wanting to tear her precious album from his hands and tell him to get as far from her as possible. She was livid. She'd shared one of the most private things in her life with him, and he was standing here calling her an idiot. Her vision turned red and she barely noticed him shaking his head at her reaction. Clenching her fists, she forced breaths through her nose, but she was practically panting from the instantaneous rage.
He could never not want a part of her? She made him feel the same way he made her feel? The words splashed over her like ice water, and she almost gasped in response. He wasn't mocking her when he'd called her a fool. He wanted to feel the way he felt with her, just as she wanted to feel the way he made her feel. However... anything followed by a 'but' was never good.
She impatiently wanted to urge him along, but her tongue wouldn't allow it. She gripped the back of one of the chairs to steady herself from the fluctuating sensations in her chest, and she watched him intently as he continued. Finally, he looked up at her, and she saw that boyish pain again, and it broke her heart all over again. Her brow creased, a shadow of empathy flickering over her face, and she wanted to assure him it was all okay. She wanted to kiss him and hold him and tell him it didn't matter what had happened to make him so broken. She didn't care about any of that, and he shouldn't either. But none of those things came out of her mouth. Instead, she stood stiffly beside the kitchen table, allowing him to stagger through his patchy explanation.
He ordered her to find someone else to love, explaining that he would only hurt her more. And then he turned and fled into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Alone by the table, her knees gave out and she crumpled to the floor on her bottom, a sob escaping her throat. She didn't want to find someone else to love. She would never find someone that met her expectations after Nixon had set the precedent so high. If a mortal had the opportunity to love Adonis (albeit a broken one), why would she return to the mundane? It was insanity to turn back now, and she couldn't if she tried.
Sitting on the floor, staring numbly at the dancing shadows of the chair legs, she realized what he was doing. He was giving her a way out. He had reached the point of no return, and incapable of letting her go, he was urging her to let go for him. Perhaps she should. If that was what he wanted, if he truly believed she was better off without him, she should love him enough to respect his wishes.
Gripping the table for support, she pulled herself to her feet and let out a shaky breath. Nixon was right; she was a fool. She'd fallen in love with a fallen angel, and he didn't know how to love her. Perhaps she didn't know how to truly love him either, for had she ever truly been loved? Not like this.
Walking slowly to her bedroom door in a fog, she ambled to a stop, her blue eyes vacantly watching the light shining around the bathroom door. He was broken, but she was as well. Two broken pieces don't make a whole. Raising her hand to knock on the door, opening her mouth to tell him she was done, she weakly let her hand fall against the wood, her palm flattening against the door.
She couldn't do it. He wanted honesty, and telling him she didn't want him wasn't honest. She did want him. She wanted every part of him, the light and the darkness. Since that night they'd first spent together, she'd recognized that vital connection to him. It hadn't been alive in her thoughts, but she'd felt it in her bones. Her body didn't react to just anyone the way it did to him. It had given her signs that night, screaming at her that he was different, but she hadn't listened. She'd denied that, and then she'd been reminded yet again when he'd asked her to the baseball game. She'd first opened her heart to him then, after succeeding in spooking him as seemed to be turning into her custom. She'd confessed she wanted a love like the one her parents shared, and she had been too cowardly to tell him then what she was beginning to feel. Too afraid to admit she was falling in love with him only a week after knowing him.
Wordlessly, she touched the doorknob and pushed the door open, allowing it to swing open on its hinges without entering. She didn't want to spook him again, and she'd recognized that wild look in his eyes as he'd fled to the bathroom. He looked like a cornered animal in those moments, and the last thing she wanted was to lose him completely.
Carefully, she entered the room, her eyes watching him the entire time. She was intently aware of every sensation in her body for her nerves were raw: the brushing of her ponytail across her back, her shorts tugging across her skin as she stepped, the heat of the lights shining on her shoulders, the sound of the rushing water in the sink. Not knowing how to act, as usual when she was in his presence, she willed her instincts to take over.
Her fingers brushed his wrist, and her eyebrows drew together as a flash of pain crossed her face. That touch was only a soft one, but she felt that connection open up to her mind as her fingertips grazed his bare skin. It was like plugging a wire directly into her brain, transmitting every one of her thoughts like the evening news. Grasping his wrist gently, she moved his arm and slid slowly between him and the sink. She prayed the closeness didn't make him balk like before, that he would see how desperately she needed to be honest with him now. She couldn't hide anything from him, and she needed him to know that. Standing in front of him, she stared innocently into his steely gray eyes, wishing she could see past those defenses, see what he was really thinking.
Involuntarily, her hands found his waist, sliding up his sides to rest on either side of his ribcage. Her bottom lip trembled with the threat of tears, and she drew it between her teeth to keep it under control. She never took her eyes off of him as her fingertips dug slightly into his sides, her urgent desire to prove herself to him making her desperate to convince him. "You're right," she spoke, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I am a fool... or at least I was." She pulled in a shaky breath and continued, not allowing her gaze to drop from his. Her right hand freed itself from his side, her fingertips running through the unruly curls that lined his forehead. Her finger traced his cheek bone and fell past his jaw to rest on his chest. That heated current remained, coursing her powerful emotions into him like a tangible thing.
"I was a fool to believe I could never have a love like them," she explained. "I was stupid to think that I didn't love you, when every tiny little part of me adores you." It was difficult for her to admit this, even now after she'd already told him once that she loved him. She wasn't uncertain of it now. She knew, beyond a doubt, that her heart would only ever belong to him. "I've tried to kill it, I've tried to let go and pretend that you have no effect on me... but it never works. You don't understand. I have never, in my life, wanted something or someone as badly as I want you.
"I want to wake up beside you, I want to feel you next to me and around me and wherever you will have me because I am hopelessly in love with you."
Sincere tears brimmed in her eyes, and she marveled at the sheer amount of emotion tonight had brought to her. But she figured it was necessary. They were two people driven by their lusts, their desires, their emotions. They needed this night to get it all out, to fight and make up and break down those walls they built so perfectly around their hearts. She didn't know just how deeply she was getting herself, how incapable she would be of ever loosening her hold on a reality with Nixon in it. She couldn't bare the thought of such a horrible thing.
"If you want me to walk away, I will. But I won't do it for me. It will only be for you." Shaking her head, she swallowed the thickness in her throat and her hands rose reflexively to touch each side of his face. "Nixon, don't make me do it. I can't... I need you like I need my next breath. Please... you have to see that." Her lip betrayed her by trembling again, and she bit it as it threatened to give way to tears. She wouldn't cry now. She couldn't. She had to be strong if he was going to be convinced that she loved him as hopelessly as she did. He had to know. She couldn't live without him. tell me that we both matter dont we
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nixon mason grey
CRIMINAL
PLAYED BY MELON
Don't get too close, it's dark inside.
Posts: 161
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Post by nixon mason grey on Nov 9, 2012 23:11:43 GMT -5
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The water streamed powerfully out of her faucet and Nixon tried desperately to erase the memories of his past, the memories of this night, the memories of ever loving Scout. He could not love her. He wasn't capable of such emotions. That much was evidenced by the lack of emotion he showed to the women that raised him. The nannies that had treated him as their own didn't get his affections. It was quite obvious that he had no heart. The emotions that he felt must be intense desire and lust. There was no other explanation. Now, he just had to make Scout see that she couldn't love him.
She had called him an ass. He knew that she had done it because of his lack of explanation at first, but it didn't matter. What she said was true. He was an ass. A selfish, pompous, irreversible asshole. She had to know what she was getting into here. He couldn't change who he was. He would never be able to do such a thing. So pessimistic was his view, he couldn't even imagine himself being any different than the person he was now. In order for him to be a good person, he would have to change his lifestyle. And that meant dropping his criminal involvement. Could he do such a thing? Doubt flickered across his mind as he stared into the mirror now, the steam rising from the water to create condensation on the glass. His image was fogging in front of his eyes, and it seemed if that fog had settled over his mind, muddling all sense of thought.
Right now he didn't know which way was up or which was down. If he was capable of tears, he was certain that they would be falling right now. But he was an emotionless pit and it was disgusting and degrading. He was beginning to think so little of himself because of his inability to feel. he was ruining a perfectly good evening because of his insecurities, because of his disillusioned dreams and fantasies. Just because Scout's parents had shown an obvious love didn't mean that it was possible for everyone. He was the fool here. He couldn't love her. He was pulling her into an openly dangerous situation. If his criminal activity was ever discovered he knew where his victims would go: to the ones that he cared about the most. Up until now, he had never had to worry about anyone else. Now, Scout was dangerously close to his heart and she didn't know how much hurt she could be put through because of him.
His warning to love someone else wasn't just because he could hurt her. It was because his lifestyle could kill her. Running his hands through his hair now, he nearly yelled out in his frustration. He would have if he was at home in the emptiness, in the solitude of his mansion, but that wasn't an option at the moment. It also wouldn't be a solution because he'd be alone. And despite his stubbornness, being alone right now was the last thing that he needed. He needed to accept the fact that he needed her in this moment of weakness and despair, but he just couldn't. He wouldn't allow himself to be reliant on someone in that manner. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair. She was going to get hurt. Seriously, seriously hurt. And he would be responsible. The idea of hurting her in that irreparable way was almost too much for him to handle. He couldn't do that to Scout. Not to his Scout. Anguish filled him in that moment and he leaned over the sink, feeling sick to his stomach.
Managing to fight the waves of nausea that were building in his stomach, he was suddenly aware of the door opening. He didn't have time to compose himself. His pale face, once flushed with passion and anger, now only showed complete pain and confusion. Why had she come after him? She was supposed to end things, she was supposed to run this time. She had to understand this. If she chose to leave then it wouldn't hurt her so much. Her heart was going to be broken into a million pieces if she did in fact love him. Panicking as he read her facial expression, he turned his gaze away from her quickly. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He was supposed to be the one that was composed. He was supposed to be controlled and well handled. Now it was exactly the opposite. Although she looked like she had just been crying, he was losing the war inside of himself. He couldn't fight to keep his walls up. It was becoming too difficult, too tiring. He was going to erupt soon, and not in a welcomed way.
Drawing in a needed breath, he nearly choked on it from the stress of the moment, his hands still shaking even as she grabbed his wrist. He managed to flick the running water off with his free hand, and even now he refused to meet her eyes. His grey eyes would betray him. The tenderness of her touch, so soft, so giving, so....gentle nearly sent him into fits of despair. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. "Scout, no." He whispered, but there was no intensity behind his words, no demand for her to listen to him this time. He couldn't find it. He couldn't find himself because he was utterly and completely lost and confused, and terrified. The walls were down. They crumbled with that touch and he couldn't trust himself to look into her eyes. Keeping his gaze averted as she managed to work her way in between him and the sink, he stepped back to allow her more room, afraid to touch her himself. He couldn't or he would lose what little composure he had left.
As her hands moved from his wrists to his waist, he sucked in a breath, afraid that she would turn this into a physical thing. He couldn't handle that right now. He couldn't handle being with her in an intimate way at the moment because he honestly wasn't sure of how he would react. His defenses were completely down and torn, and as she spoke, he turned his defeated gaze to look into her blue eyes almost listlessly. The grey eyes that were so known for having so much expression in them when he allowed it were completely empty. He felt dead inside. He was going to be responsible for killing her if she didn't get away from him and he couldn't take that. When she spoke, her fingers trailing up to his ribcage, his body gave an involuntary shudder. It wasn't because her touch was unwelcome. It was because he felt physically ill over what he had done to her.
And then her hand was in his hair, and he closed his eyes immediately, not trusting himself because of her familiar tenderness. He craved this, he desired this but he could never admit that. Feeling her gently caress his face, he let out a shaky breath, still not daring to open his eyes as her hand traveled down from his forehead, to his cheek, to his jaw, and finally came to a stop down at his chest. She could feel his rapidly beating heart, she would be able to feel his fear. Stifling the urge to cry out, he opened his vivid eyes, staring down at her wildly. She didn't understand. He had to make her understand. As she pledged herself to him, hope and fear collided dangerously inside of his heart and he did all that he could not to run from her now. She had to be the one to leave. She had to be the one to run. It would be easier for her to bear if she kicked him out of her life, out of her heart. She had to see that.
When she admitted that she was hopelessly in love with him, Nixon felt his world crashing down around him. Seeing the tears in her eyes only solidified how serious, how honest she was being with him. It was what he had wanted all along, but it was that that turned his emotions into fear. This was a fear that he had never felt before. He knew that it stemmed from his inability to love, from his inability to be loved. She couldn't love him. She just couldn't.
"Please Scout, please. Please listen to me, please.
He pleaded desperately with her, his broken eyes taken on a wild look as he tried to make her see what she needed to see. When her hands came up to touch his face, to grasp his cheeks, he didn't pull away from her. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment, his entire being trembling, shaking with the enormity of the situation. What could ever make a person this afraid of love? His teeth were chattering from the severity of his fear, and he opened his eyes once more after leaning into her touch. His hands still did not leave his side. It wasn't from the lack of want to touch her. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let her go, but he had to. If she was ever going to stay safe then she was going to have to leave. It showed that the man could change, that he would change for her. As much as it pained him, he forced himself to speak the words that he never wanted to hear come out of his mouth. She would leave for him, not for her. His pain, his want to not say these things was obvious in his eyes and he prayed that for once, she could read him like an open book.
"You have to leave for you. You have to leave because I...I'm not s-safe to be around."
He hesitated now, the truth so dangerously close to spilling out in an emotionally wired confession. He was losing his composure, he had already lost his composure. Clinging desperately to feelings he didn't understand, he knew what he could do to get her to go. It was the only thing he could do. She needed to kick him out of her apartment, out of her life and this was the only way that he could see would work. He didn't want to do it. It could ruin him, but he was willing to sacrifice himself for her safety. If that didn't show his love, then it wasn't clear what would. For Nixon Grey to put someone above his life, his business...that was saying something more than his words ever could. "You have to kick me out. You have to make me leave. I'm...I'm not good for you, I'm not safe. I'm dangerous, I could get you killed. Scout, listen to me, it's very important."
He said to her, his eyes still wild with a fear that he couldn't even hope to explain. "I'm a criminal. I'm a fraud. Grey Enterprises, that's real. It's honest, it's a business. But I've...I've created an entire scheme on the side, an entirely fake investing scheme. I've cheated businessmen out of millions. If they ever find out, if I'm ever found out, they'll go after the people I care about. The press...they t-take your pictures all of the time. You'll be k-killed. You have to...I'm sorry Scout, I'm so, so sorry. Please...believe me, I love you, but this can't....we can't...." He felt like he was going to pass out at her feet, and he even staggered as he stood, nearly collapsing into her. The weight of his world was on his shoulders and she had his confession.
Struggling to remain upright, he remained trembling, unsure of what to do or what to say or where to go. He looked at her now, still desperate, still pleading. "Tell me to go. Tell me to leave, tell me you don't love me." He couldn't be loved, she had to see that now. He was incapable of being loved, she had to realize that now. He was destined to be alone for the rest of his life. "No one has ever loved me, and you can't start."
3044 words | scout! | I can't with him.
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Post by SCOUT ELAYNA GREY on Nov 10, 2012 0:06:47 GMT -5
theres a thunder in our hearts baby so much hate for the ones we love TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: THESE TWO >.< For the first time, she could see how her touch affected him as he reacted to her hands on his skin. He looked so empty as she touched him, she was momentarily terrified that he'd somehow shut off his feelings for her. That emptiness sent a shiver down her spine, but she wouldn't doubt herself. Not now. She was too deep into this, giving up her entire life, to love him. She wasn't going to back down.
He closed his eyes as her fingers trailed through his curls, and she knew it was so she couldn't read him. As always, he knew her so well, and he protected the one entryway she had to his soul. Her hand drifted to his chest, and she felt his heart beating rapidly against the palm of her hand. It felt staccato and panicked, more fearful than excited. He was tense and wary, like a wild animal one step away from fleeing from her. Then, suddenly, his eyes flew open, and she sucked in a breath as the full strength of him bombarded her. So many things passed through his eyes, and it was open to her without him saying a word. He was afraid, deathly afraid, for some reason, and she couldn't understand why. She laid her heart out to bare because she could do nothing more or less.
He begged her to listen to him, but she barreled on. She begged him not to make her let him go, and she clung to him in hopes he wouldn't deny her. She just couldn't do it. That was why she was sacrificing her career to be with him. She needed him more than she needed her job, more than she needed anything. It was reckless and unlike her, but he exacerbated the parts of her that needed to be brought to light. He accentuated her emotional side, breaking her out of the stoic, reserved shell she'd always lived in. Leo would like him after all, she thought absently to herself.
He told her again that she needed to leave for her, and she shook her head stubbornly. She wanted to yell at him and tell him there was no way she was going to listen, but she didn't. She stood helplessly in front of him as he rambled on. "I don't understand... Nixon, what are you talking about?" she asked, honestly confused by his behavior. She'd lost seeing him as a threat, and only saw the man she loved. Her rational mind knew he was a criminal with enough money to had her put under, but her heart didn't care. He wouldn't hurt her. She knew that, innately trusting him although she'd thought she didn't. She had believed she didn't fully trust him because he was so hard for her to decipher, but it wasn't true. She understood him better than herself, and it was her own self-consciousness that she mistrusted. She knew she was the greater liar of the two of them, and her constant fear of hurting him made her hate herself.
Then his confession poured out so quickly and effortlessly, it took her breath away. If she'd been doing her job, she would have gotten all the evidence she needed to throw him into jail for a very long time. But this wasn't her job. This was her heart, and it must be dealt with differently.
Sincere surprise spread across her, heat rushing to her cheeks as her hands fell from his chest. Hearing the omission from his lips somehow made it real, and the full implications of what she'd gotten herself into made her feel like she was being crushed. She'd never felt claustrophobic before, but now was the closest she'd ever come to it. She already knew he was a criminal. She'd gone into this knowing that. But he was telling her. He was telling her his deepest, darkest secret without knowing she had foreknowledge. There were no more secrets he had to tell her, and she suddenly felt very full and unexpectedly lightheaded. The severity of this situation was not lost on her, and her heart picked up pace, pounding loudly in her ears until she almost lost his worrisome words.
As he staggered toward her, her hands reacted instantly, going to his face and catching him so he had to look at her. No fear was in her eyes now, and he would see that, she knew. There was no fear left to feel now that he'd laid his soul out so completely before her. She gazed deeply into his eyes and felt her pulse increase when he looked at her. He was so frightened, so afraid for her to love him, so afraid for her life. She realized how deeply he loved her then, so deeply he couldn't express it with words and it scared him out of his mind to admit it. He believed his love could hurt her, but she knew the truth. Her love could hurt him, very badly, and he was right but for the wrong reasons.
She should tell him to leave. Now that she had his confession, she should shut her doors to him and close him out of her life. She should march into the precinct and announce the truth to all of them. The former Scout would have done that. That version of herself would have laughed at her now, so weak, so pliable. What was she? His pawn, his plaything, to protect him? That former Scout mocked her from deep down inside somewhere, laughing at what she'd become.
But she wasn't a monster.
That former version of herself, the emotionless caricature of a person with no heart, was the true monster. She had become something greater than that, and it was Nixon she had to thank for that. He'd torn open the bandages she had strapped in her feelings with, and she was fuller because of him.
Shaking her head, she gently gripped his face and urged him to look at her. Her blue eyes darkened as he told her not to love him. "No..." she resolved quietly, her tone controlled and defiant.
"I already have, Nixon," she corrected him, allowing her hands to move from his face to the sides of his neck. "I already love you, and I can't stop. I don't want to stop. I don't give a damn about any of that other stuff. We'll find a way through it, together."
Shaking her head and swallowed heavily as her emotions filled her until she couldn't speak, she stood up on her toes and kissed him lightly on his lips. Lowering back onto her heels, she bit her lip and glanced away from his penetrating gaze until she could stand to look up at him again. Ugh, she loved him so much. "All that matters to me is that I'm with you. I'd give up everything for that. You can't make me change my mind. Even if you don't want me, I'll still love you." It shook her to her core to admit such a powerful thing, but it was true. If he was the one to walk away, she would let him go if that was what he wanted, but it would kill her on the inside. She'd never be the same, and those strips she'd had holding her emotions down would never come up again. She wanted to cry, but she didn't want him to misunderstand what she was feeling. She was sad that he would ever believe she could let him go, but she was also thrilled that he loved her so deeply. She hadn't honestly believed it fully until now. Until he'd admitted the darkest reaches of his life to her. tell me that we both matter dont we
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nixon mason grey
CRIMINAL
PLAYED BY MELON
Don't get too close, it's dark inside.
Posts: 161
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Post by nixon mason grey on Nov 10, 2012 0:40:11 GMT -5
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He had just confessed his deepest, darkest secret to her. He had just displayed his intelligence, his cunning ability to play a game that no other criminal had been successful at for very long. Or so the records showed. He knew that eventually he would have to pull out of this fraud before he got in too deep. This was all a large gamble and he was operating the biggest casino in existence. If it failed, he was going to lose absolutely everything. And right now, he found that he didn't want to do it anymore. He didn't want to be a criminal anymore. He wanted a normal life, one that he could share innocently with Scout. He would never, ever include her in this scheme. He would never want to start a life with her if it meant putting her in more danger. He knew that it was safe to pull out now, and if she wanted to remain with him after his confession, he was going to do just that. It would take some serious skill and manipulation, and he'd have to give the investor's back some of their money, but it was a chance and a loss that he was willing to take for Scout. He could make up the money with Grey Enterprises.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he knew that she was confused. He had stuttered over his explanation, he had paused too many times for it all to make sense to her at first. He could read the confusion in her eyes. He knew that he wasn't making sense, and he had a feeling that his fearful state was making her more uneasy than anything else. But she had to know, and he felt as if an extremely large weight had been lifted from his chest, from his shoulders. He felt relief in a strange way, and he had a feeling that it had to do with his decision to give up his life of crime if Scout said she still loved him after knowing the truth. He had nothing else to hide and it felt so purifying. Why he had told her, why he had confessed himself didn't make sense to him. He had confessed his ruin to someone who didn't know very much about him, who he didn't know very much about either. Not the simple things anyway. But now that she knew this, maybe they could start learning one another honestly. He had no reason to put up that cold, unfeeling wall anymore. She could see all of him.
And even though he didn't have much to offer in terms of being a human being, he could try to start over.
He could try to be a normal human being for the first time in his life.
And she had done that for him. She had made him want to live a life, a real life. One without lies, one without deceiving people. Looking at her know, he saw the surprise in her eyes as he staggered into her, spent from the evening and from the confessions and from the emotions. He had never felt so much in his life before. He was exhausted and right now, he just wanted Scout to wrap her in his arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay. Looking into her eyes now, he read the confusion there, palpable and real. Sucking in a breath as she held him up, he looked at her, that familiar desperation there. All anger had long since dissipated from him and he felt extremely guilty for the way he had treated her all evening. She was not only dealing with the stress of him in her life, but the stress of her father just having a heart attack. He was an extremely selfish person. Blinking in shock and realization over what he had just done, he spoke rapidly, trying to apologize for as much as he possibly could to let her know how sincere he was. Nixon Grey never offered an apology. It seemed Scout was changing him in more ways than one.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. What was I thinking? Your father....fuck. Scout, I'm sorry. I can...I can take you to him. Do y-you want to go? We can go...you can go? I...I can go, leave, I mean. I just...oh God, I shouldn't have told you this now...of all times. I'm so sorry, love. I am..truly, please believe me."
He couldn't wrap his mind around a coherent sentence, around a coherent thought. He was stuttering like a fool because of what she did to him with her soft touch on his face, supporting him as his body leaned against her slightly, his face still in her hands. At a loss of what to do or what to say now, he didn't move, for she wasn't kicking him out yet. Forcing himself to look into her eyes as she held him steady, he finally brought his hands up to rest on her forearms. He didn't push her away, he didn't want her to stop touching him. Her touch grounded him, it gave him something to hold onto. His fingertips touched her skin lightly, but he felt no heat. He was afraid to feel that heat, that passion. She would deny him, he knew. He just knew. But when he looked into her eyes, expecting to see the fear, expecting to see the anger and the hate that he had only ever seen from everyone else in his life that he cared about, he saw nothing. She was trying to figure this out, he could tell and that confused him. Furrowing his brow, he watched, more unsure than ever.
And then she said no.
His eyes widened in shock, and his lips parted as he desperately, uselessly tried to convince her once more. "No? Scout, what..what do you mean no? I'm...a criminal. You could be hurt..." But he knew that there was no point to his words. He couldn't convince her to leave him. His deepest, darkest, most dangerous secret wasn't even enough to make her hate him. Now he stopped interrupting her as her hands moved down from his face to his neck, resting softly there. He sighed shortly, his hands still wrapped gently around her forearms in an attempt to keep himself steady. She already loved him, she couldn't stop loving him, she didn't want to stop loving him. She didn't care about his criminal activity, she was convinced that they would work through it together. He was determined to try. He was determined to give it up for her sake. It was the only way that they could ever be safe together.
Biting the inside of his cheek, he nodded almost imperceptibly, showing her that he was listening, showing her that he was trying to understand that she didn't want him gone. She wanted him, unlike his parents. The thought alone frightened him, but excited him at the same time. And then, she was kissing him. His eyes closed from the relief of the situation, and as she pulled away, he couldn't bring himself to look away from her. In another instant, he closed off whatever space there was between them as he listened to her words, and despite their height difference, he rested his forehead on her shoulder, his face buried in her neck as he wrapped his arms around her and clung to her desperately. His words were broken, but so honest and so true. "Can you please....just hold me?" He whispered, so open and on display just for her. Nixon Grey never asked for anything, ever. He had never asked for anything like this before because he knew that it would always be shot down. Trying his best to stop his shaking, he whispered in her ear again, remaining wrapped around her. "I love you and I need you and I want you. Every day without you was torture, and would be. Don't ever leave. I'll stop. I want to stop being..I don't want to be a criminal anymore. I'll stop, for you. For you, I want to be normal. I want you to be safe."
3044 words | scout! | I can't with him.
this template was made by ZOE of caution 2.0 !
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Post by SCOUT ELAYNA GREY on Nov 10, 2012 1:20:24 GMT -5
theres a thunder in our hearts baby so much hate for the ones we love TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: THESE TWO >.< He tried arguing with her, tried convincing her to turn her back on him, but it was all in vain. She was far too stubborn to listen. Plus, she wouldn't have been capable of turning away from him even if she wanted it. Now, he was as much a part of her as her heart or her lungs.
So she confessed her heart to him. Her irrational and undying devotion to him slipped from her lips, and she couldn't help but kiss him. He kissed her back urgently, and she was overcome with affection for him as his lips pressed into hers. It was sweet and tender and the part of him he usually kept hidden. He was opening up to her, and her heart swelled from the joy of it.
As their lips parted, she sucked in a deep breath and looked up at him, seeing his intense gaze focused powerfully on her. It took her breath away, and she stood frozen as he closed the space between them. He leaned toward her and surprised her by resting his head against her shoulder. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his upper body as his arms found their way around her waist. His whispered entreaty forced her to close her eyes. It was so romantic, so broken and desperate. He needed her, and he just wanted her to hold him. There was no possible way to describe how amazing she felt in that moment, and she hugged him tightly to her in response to his words.
She rested with her behind against the sink to support her, her head turning to rest on his shoulder as he leaned over her. She cared about nothing else beside him in that moment. She forgot all of her weariness or the drama of the evening, and she lost herself in that embrace.
He caught her attention as his hot breath crested on the inside of her neck, and his words danced into her ears. He loved her... he needed her... and he wanted her. What more could she ask for? An involuntary moan escaped her throat at his admission, and she buried her face in his shoulder. "Do you have any idea how it affects me when you say romantic things like that?" she asked in a quiet voice, smiling slightly. He made her so happy, and she was smiling again like he'd promised her earlier in front of the fireplace.
Shifting her weight so he was standing again, she took his hand in hers, twining her fingers through his and kissing each of them individually, watching his eyes the entire time. "I need you to come with me, okay?" she asked, her eyes bright. "Trust me."
After their quarrels, she knew he trusted her now as she trusted him. She didn't doubt he would follow her, so she turned and led him from the room, guiding him into her bedroom. She was exhausted, and she knew why when she saw her bedside clock read midnight. Guiding him to the bed, she hoped he would trust her and not assume she had the wrong intentions. She'd promised herself at the start, no matter what happened, she didn't want this to be about sex. It always had been before, and after so many ups and downs of her emotions in one evening, she needed to just be with him.
Lowering herself onto the bed, she pulled him after her, shifting the blankets so they covered them both. Her bed was nowhere near the girth of his, but it was the perfect size so she was pressed against him when he laid down, their noses almost touching. She liked the intimacy, and she looked down at his hand, lifting it and wrapping her fingers through his again, their palms flat against one another. She watched his rougher hand wrap through hers for a moment before her eyes found their way to his, reveling in such a simple touch. She couldn't deny it made her stomach flutter and burn, but she wouldn't push herself too far. She wanted his tenderness as badly as he needed hers.
"Stay with me?" she asked, dropping her head onto the pillow, cradled by her bent arm. She bit her bottom lip, that telltale sign that she was unsure how he would react to her, and she smiled a small, content smile. tell me that we both matter dont we
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nixon mason grey
CRIMINAL
PLAYED BY MELON
Don't get too close, it's dark inside.
Posts: 161
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Post by nixon mason grey on Nov 10, 2012 1:59:18 GMT -5
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He closed his eyes as he leaned into her, keeping his face hidden as she wrapped her arms around him when he asked her to. He couldn't move, he didn't want to move. He was exhausted, spent. That confession had taken the last of his remaining strength and he was thankful for her support as they touched so tenderly. For so long Nixon had wondered what it would feel like to have someone hold him in this way, to hold him because they honestly, truly loved and wanted him. He never thought that he would know. He never thought that he would understand what love was, but he knew it now. He knew that without a doubt that what he shared with Scout was love. She loved him and he loved her and there was no stopping it now. He personally believed that there were no more secrets between them and he was more content than he had ever been in a long time. He had someone's heart, and that was more than he could ever ask for.
As she leaned back against the sink, he moved with her, wishing that he wasn't relying on her so much to keep him upright, but not being able to help it. His legs felt like they were ready to collapse. Sighing in her ear, he remained snuggled close to her, keeping her in his arms and feeling her tighten her grasp around him, especially after he asked her to hold him. It was something that he normally would have viewed as a weak request, but everything was different now. He had his walls down and a completely Nixon was showing through. The sensitive, the vulnerable, the broken Nixon was available to her. He didn't know when this would happen again so he wanted them both to enjoy it while it lasted. He didn't want to rear his ugly, dominant head again during this evening, so he was thankful for the quiet moment that they were sharing now.
He knew now that there was no possibility of pushing her away. He had confessed something to her that normally would have sent anyone else screaming in the other direction. Normally they would have reported him to the authorities. He knew how people worked in this day and age, and the women that he used to sleep with were intent on getting their money's worth from him. However, he never paid, he never showered them with gifts or extra attention. He wanted to do that with Scout that. Not only did he want to show her her worth through his touches and his words, but he wanted to show her how much she meant by spoiling her. It wasn't to shove his riches in her face, but merely to show her how much he appreciated her. And he would start with the small box in his pocket that he had been saving to give to her. The diamond earrings were simple, but not that small. He just saw them and they had screamed Scout to him.
Suddenly, he heard a small groan come from Scout, and a small smile worked its way onto his lips. Hearing her confession, he straightened in that moment, looking down at her but not loosening his hold on her. "I have not a clue, love." He was lying, of course, but it wouldn't hurt for her to say it out loud. He loved to hear what he did to her even though he didn't need the confidence boost. Except, maybe right now he did because he was feeling rather low about himself.
Sighing, he watched her as she took his hand in hers, kissing each of his fingers softly. He felt that familiar swooping feeling in his stomach, the heat rising up through his chest to the back of his throat. However, he knew it was because she was being tender, being soft and supportive. This was not meant to be sexual in any way and he appreciated that more than she could ever know. As she asked him to come with her, to trust her, he regarded her carefully, but lovingly. "Okay....I trust you." Him saying those words out loud meant more than any other words he could ever say to her. He trusted her. His fragile, broken trust was not something he handed out easily, but she had earned it. And he wanted her to know that she had it because he knew that it would help her know her worth as well. Her confidence was an issue, he understood that, he knew that. He couldn't blame her because he knew how he could be. Right now he was exactly the opposite, but he still wanted her to know how much she meant to him, how important she was. As she led him out of the bathroom, he paused when he saw his bag on the couch.
"Hold on, I just have to check the door. I dunno if I locked it."
He honestly didn't know if he had locked it or not. Walking to the couch, knowing her eyes were on him, he went straight to the door, glad that he had checked. Locking the deadbolt and the lock on the handle, he turned around to face her with a small smile on his features. Grabbing his bag by the straps as he walked by the couch, he found her hand with his free hand, squeezing hers gently, reassuringly. "All set." He told her honestly and then followed her into her bedroom. As they reached the bed, his uncertainty showed, but how else were they supposed to get to sleep? This wasn't going to be about Scout. As she settled down on the bed, he went with her, laying beside her, but facing her. Their proximity sent that familiar fire through his body, but he was too tired and too spent to act on it. Besides, this night wasn't going to be about sex. They had both decided that, he was sure of it. Looking into her eyes, he felt her hand find his again, and he looked at their fingers as they intertwined so easily. Unable to keep his smile from disappearing, he could only bring his content eyes back to hers.
He was exhausted, but he still wanted to give her the earrings. And as she questioned him, he saw her bite her lip, which caused him to chuckle softly. Freeing his hand from hers, he reached up to her lips, gently using his thumb to pull her lip free from her teeth. "You can't do that to me." He admitted to her, the gruff tone to his voice showing her what kind of affect it had on him. Smiling, he leaned forward and gave her lips something different to do as he kissed her tenderly. Pulling back after only a moment, he could only nod to her words. "Love, I'm not going anywhere. I promise." But he didn't want to go to sleep yet. Even though he was exhausted beyond belief, he wanted to make this evening better for her.
"I have something for you. Don't be upset."
He informed her, knowing how she didn't like when he gave her things. He had seen her balk when he gave her the car to use. He didn't need it anyway. He had so many at his disposal. Turning away from her, breaking their warm contact for a moment, he leaned over the side of the bed, nearly falling out of it because he wasn't used to how small it was. Struggling, he put his arm out to keep himself up, digging around his bag with the other. Pulling out the small box, he didn't want to scare her in case she got the wrong idea from the size of it, he opened it as he sat up a bit. Turning to face her, the elated smile showed how happy he was to give her a gift.
"I thought of you when I was out for a walk the other day."
3044 words | scout! | I can't with him.
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Post by SCOUT ELAYNA GREY on Nov 10, 2012 11:41:22 GMT -5
theres a thunder in our hearts baby so much hate for the ones we love TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: THESE TWO >.< As he feigned ignorance and remarked that he had no idea what his words did to her, she raised an eyebrow at him. Bullshit, she thought to herself, his smug little grin giving him away. She knew he was playing with her, and she enjoyed that side of him, so she relented and kept her comments to herself. She watched his eyes as she kissed his fingers, and she could swear she'd seen a reaction out of him at that touch. Perhaps her touch affected him as his did to her. She noted it with satisfaction and took his hand in hers, asking him to trust her.
When he admitted he did, no hesitation in the world could keep her from reveling in that simple admission that he trusted her. It also broke her heart, that part of her that knew she would hurt him and hated herself for that. But she felt a thrill of joy spread through her as she smiled to herself once her back was turned to him. When they reached the hallway, he made her stop as he ran to check the front door. She raised an eyebrow slightly, feeling he was stalling for some reason, but she couldn't imagine why. Soon enough, he gathered his bag from the couch and advanced toward her, barely illuminated by the dying fire. He was so handsome in that flickering golden light, and she unconsciously chewed on her bottom lip as her heart fluttered in her chest.
This man loved her, she reminded herself as he followed her into the bedroom and laid down in front of her. He was deposited directly into the most personal corners of her life: her apartment and especially her bed. Little did he know that this was the same bed she'd had since she was a teenager, still holding after all these years. She'd dreamed here, written in a diary here, watched silly videos on Youtube and imagined what she would be like one day when she was a woman. Now, the only man to ever grace its surface, and it was none other than Nixon Grey. It was only appropriate really. Only he could surpass her standards and be accepted here.
As she questioned him softly, she didn't realize she was biting her lip again until he chuckled and pulled his hand from hers. He gently pulled her lip from between her teeth, his gruff voice telling her all she needed to know. She never would have imagined such a simple thing would have an effect on him, but it pleased her to know it did. She smiled shyly and watched him intently as he leaned in to kiss her. It was easy to kiss him back, natural and right to her, and she didn't want him to stop. But he did, and she sighed slightly, her eyes closing as she memorized the feel of his lips on hers.
He promised her he wasn't going anywhere, and her body tingled all over, her nerve endings singing with that promise. Her eyes twinkled as she watched him. When he admitted he had something for her, her brow furrowed in curiosity. She absently thought back to that day at Fenway Park when he'd gotten angry with her, believing she only wanted him for his money. Honestly, she didn't give a damn about his money since she made her own living, but she knew it bothered him when people wanted him only for his fortune. His illegally bought fortune, she reminded herself, but she pushed the thought away. If she wasn't a cop, would that admission have stunned her? Would she have thrown him out if she hadn't known before he'd admitted it? No, she thought to herself. She didn't think she would have. Nothing about his illegal activities had been what drew her to him, and everything she loved about him was independent of that dark side of his life. She wasn't jealous of his opulent lifestyle, although it fascinated her, and she was perfectly fine just laying in her twelve year old bed sharing her simple life with him.
Certain that he wouldn't think she was begging for money out of him just because he had something for her, she decided she wouldn't be upset by the gift. As he tipped over the side of rhe bed, she suppressed a giggle and waited patiently for him to retrieve whatever it was. She had to admit, she liked surprises, that was why she had been thrilled when he'd appeared in her apartment earlier even if she'd been angry about his accusations. She wouldn't admit that to him, but she figured she didn't have to. He'd be able to read it in her whether she told him or not.
Squirming impatiently in the bed, she watched him like a hawk as he twisted to bring himself back onto the bed. His simple words did nothing to tone down the rush of heat to her face as the diamond earrings sparkled in the moonlight. He thought of her while he was on a walk? And he bought her diamonds? Holy crap.
Her jaw fell open and her hand reached involuntarily to the box, gently taking it from his grasp. Her eyes were wide, probably big enough to reflect the sparkling jewels, and she didn't know what to say. They were so simple and so beautiful. She was instantly touched by just how well he knew her. She wasn't complicated, especially when she was with him. He knew her so well and he'd only known her a few weeks. Closing her eyes against the onslaught of emotions the simple earrings gave her, she breathed a shaky breath and reopened her eyes to look up at him. Her blue eyes swam with her love for him, her adoration that he could know something so basic about her. She wasn't showy, and she couldn't attest to enjoying being showed off like a trophy, and he somehow knew this.
"Nixon...they're perfect," she whispered thickly, finding herself biting her bottom lip again. Seeing his brows draw down at the motion, she quickly opened her mouth to release it and smiled slightly. Twisting, she placed the box on the night stand and turned back to face him. Snuggling up against his chest, she turned her face upward and looked into his handsome face. Kissing him softly on his lips, she smiled contently and buried her face in his chest. He smelled sweet and clean with a mixture of woodsmoke on his skin, and she wrapped her fingers through his, breathing him in deeply. "I love you..." she murmured, half asleep. It wasn't long before she was asleep, safely wrapped in the arms of the man she would always love. tell me that we both matter dont we
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