Madness At Noon {COMPLETED}

Blood, Pain, and Cheese Balls 8/10

BORED.

My God, how long did one man need to sleep? Okay, fine, I had injected the Gentleman with a mild sedative which now coursed through his veins, lulling him into sweet, deep sleep, but that was twelve hours ago! I had been staring at the ceiling, blank, blank, boring white ceiling, for three hours now, slowly drawing circles on my love's bare chest with my fingertips.

"Uhg! I cannot take it any longer!" Launching from the bed, I threw off the covers and gulped down the air that seemed to boil in my throat. This room was too small, the walls were too tight; I could not breathe.

"Wake up, you blasted man. Wake up!" I grabbed hold of the mattress and heaved, flipping it over, throwing bed and man onto the floor with a shuddering thud.

A stream of muffled curses and most foul exclamations came from a bed sheet ghost as the Gentleman shot to his feet, became tangled up in the blankets, fell, smacked his head against the windowsill, and swore more and more colorfully as he ripped the sheet off his body, eyes wide and wild. His face was bloody red, chest heaving.

I tutted. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, mi amor?"

A snarl tore its way from the Gentleman's throat, primal and savage.

This was not the man I knew: the perfect master of poise and bloodshed, of righteousness and buckets of damn rules and regulations. The Gentleman in name and so he must always remain.

But not now.

This was the man behind the mask: the wild savagery and fury of a god forced into human form.

I did love sneak attacks so.

I licked my lips. "Come on, then. What are you waiting for?"

"What are you- In my house- Where are your clothes, Noon?"

Oh no. Oh, nononononono. It took all of my years, and even that was not enough, all of my strength and will to stay rooted to the spot, to stare down this man and not rise to his challenge. What a war we could make! And all because he said my name like that.

I would tear the world in two with my bare hands at the sound of my name said like that.

"Look at me, my love," I said, raising my empty hands. "Does it look like I have come for war?"

He huffed like a stallion, eyes darting for signs of deception. Driven by instinct; that is what kept him alive when so many others in his vocation died terrible, premature deaths.

"Your words are war," he said. "If you're here then... then... then you-" Wincing, he rubbed his face with his hands. "You drugged... drugged me, didn't you?"

"Of course."

"Damn you."

"Oh, you most certainly can if you want to," I purred. He did not even flinch.

His calculating gears were almost audible as he took in the pair of us: he in nothing more than a pair of boxers; I in nothing more than some lacy undergarments, quite tempting and pleasing to the eye. My body curled beneath his gaze. The green tinge growing in his face was either a sign of his pleasure or his repulsion.

His eyes slid down to the space between my legs. "You didn't..."

Typical man. "Have I ever?" I countered.

"If it involved a needle in my arm, I wouldn't know!"

"Oh, honey. If it was me... you would know."