Trapped In Your Bleeding Heart (Riff x Reader)

Chapter Twenty Eight - Closer

Once again I followed close behind Riff as he walked to a door across the space, which led to his bedroom. In the corner was a pile of suitcases and bags, piling up like a small mountain. "Who's are those?" I asked, walking in further so that Riff could shut the door.

"Theirs." he gestured to the previous living area.

I inspected the bedroom. Other than the exit, there were two doors. One of which I thought led to a bathroom, and the other a closet. Riff's bed was close to the ground, only adorned with a firm-looking pillow and two white sheets. From under his bed, something was moving. I took a step back, and tugged at Riff's shirt. "What is that?"

"Who, Cash? I thought you already met him."

    The dog's big head poked out from under the bed, and within seconds he was circling my feet. His tail moved so fast that his hips began shimmying from side to side, causing his rear end to ram into the wall– and then into Riff. "Slow down, cowboy." Riff bent down and held the dog's face.

    I continued into the bedroom. It was much more decorated than the living area. There were pictures and posters pinned to the walls, all of which looked carefully developed and cared for– other than the pins that stuck through them. There was one with Squinty. One with Tony. One that was framed– a photo of Riff and another older man standing in front of his truck. Riff wore a smile in that photo. He looked happier than I had ever seen him. "Is this your dad?" I asked.

    Riff stood to his full height. "My uncle. Mom's brother." He corrected. "Never had a dad."

    "Where's your mom?"

    He walked close behind me, and nonchalantly pointed to another framed photo. It was a woman wearing a sweet smile with downturned eyes– just like Riff's. "Died." He said simply.

    There was barely a moment of internal debate before I slowly rotated my body to meet Riff's. If I leaned forward then, my head would've rested on his chest. But I looked up instead, so that I could see his eyes. As if it were muscle memory, the back of my hand drifted across Riff's cheek, and settled by his ear. I turned it around, and held his face with my small palm. "I'm sorry." I muttered.

    "Why? Did you kill her?" He flashed a fake smile. "I think you're too young, doll."

    I found myself shaking my head. "Stop that." My voice came out hardly more than a whisper.

    Riff took a long breath in, and released it slowly. He pulled his face away from my hand, and recorrected himself closer to me. In response, I took a nervous step back, and hit the wall. As he grew closer still, my eyes shut, and all I could feel was his warm air hitting my face. "I'm gonna kiss you." He uttered.

    My eyes opened immediately. Riff placed his right hand above my shoulder, onto the wall. "Okay?" He added.

    I tipped my head up to align with his. "... Okay."

    At first when our lips collided, that was all there was. The only thing in the room. The only thing in the building. Noise became silence. Breeze became still. It was Just Riff. Just Me. Just our lips pressed together. And then there were hands. Powerful, large hands. And suddenly Riff was everywhere. Grasping my back. Holding my head. As if he wasn't kissing me meant I wasn't there. And if he wasn't touching me– all of me– I would vanish.

    Before I could take my mind away from such conscious thoughts, my mouth was open, and my hands were under his shirt– and in his hair. I felt a rush of weakness, defenselessness. Vulnerability. My muscles felt fatigued under the heat Riff pressed to me. His chest was on mine, forcing me against the wall. His unyielding lips had parted my own, and brought forth a passion I hadn't known I was capable of feeling. And I didn't feel it, but I became it. That's when I truly realized that I was kissing him back. I was providing even more, perhaps, than what he was providing me.

    The fear of being alone with Riff no longer fazed me. It infuriated me. Oh, how I wished that those Jets would disappear, and leave Riff and I to be lonely together. I wanted to spend forever trying to understand him. The way he thought. The way he moved. I wanted to become his passion. I wanted to crawl inside his skin. I wanted us to be unattended. Exclusive. Alone. I never wanted to leave his side.

    Nicotine pushed into my mouth with Riff's tongue. I no longer felt bothered by the taste. I invited it– welcomed it. And then, for some reason, I felt as though I should speak. But my words were immediately lost in Riff's mouth. Interrupted, and devoured. That's when I truly realized that he was just as hungry as me.

    Now every kiss up until that one seemed pointless. In truth, after Riff kissed me, I didn't even consider my past kisses to be anything more than what they were; nothing. Now he gripped the bottom of my shirt from its sides and grappled with it, as if he wanted it off, but didn't want to disconnect from me. I mimicked his motions in my own way, holding onto his belt from behind him, and using it to pull his hips closer to mine.

    "Oye, Deadly-Riff!"

    Riff all but groaned into my lips, obviously frustrated by the interruption.

    "Can I come in? I have to leak!" The Jet continued.

    With a slow-burning intensity, Riff pulled away from me, and angled his chin towards the ground, causing his forehead to bump against my nose. "What?" He called breathily. I hoped the Jet didn't hear the desperation in Riff's voice.

    "I need to pee!"

    He dropped the back of his head next, and stared at the ceiling. "Go out the window!" He called to the Jet.

    "You really are heartless!"

    It only took a few intimidating strides for Riff to reach the door, opening it for the boy. Snowboy. "Take your time." Riff grumbled, retreating back into the bedroom and watching as Squinty wormed past him, and out of the room.

    Snowboy shot me a nervous smile before scampering off into the bathroom. It didn't even take two minutes before he was out again, and before leaving, paused in front of Riff. "You got some..." Snowboy took a finger and pointed to his own mouth, "lipstick."

    Riff scoffed and pushed Snowboy out of the room, who was giggling like an idiot. After shutting the door, Riff wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, and then looked at me. "Better?" He asked.

    "I liked you better with lipstick." I replied.

    "That's funny." He came closer again, but passed me, and went straight to the bathroom. Moments later he returned with a pair of haircutting scissors. "You ready?"

    I took the blades from him. "Sit."

Author's note: I figured a little sprinkle of smut was needed 🥰