2P GerIta: Falling

7

However, in keeping with how my last few weeks had been progressing, Lutz was in this spot of joy, too. Everywhere I went, he followed, and all that I did, he took part in too.

We came to a pattern-I enjoyed practicing with my knives, during the time when Kuro was typically in the basement torturing some new pretty thing he had picked up off the streets, and when Lutz was on the couch, achieving nothing.

Now, however, he had taken to accompanying me into the room where I would throw-the walls decorated in deep gashes and holes from years of targeting them-and he often just stood in the corner, watching me intently but saying nothing and doing nothing-he caused no problems, so he could stay.

However, today was different, and for a reason I did not know, which only served to pissed me off further as my exasperation grew by the moment.

I threw the knives faster, harder, farther-to no avail. I stared at my traitorous hands, and wanted to scream and punch a wall-or, better yet, the person responsible for all this, as he leaned casually against the wall, watching me lazily, unimpressed with either my shaken skills or my display of rage or my increased heart rate that I could not account for. I wasn't sure what was wrong with me, but I knew it was somehow all Lutz's fault.

I growled, clenching my trembling hands into fists, and barked, "Lutz, bastardo! Come here!"

Naturally, he complied, and in typical, unaffected Lutz fashion he pushed himself off the wall with a bored look on his face that did not falter for even a second when I told him to line up on the wall once more, but standing with perfectly straight posture like I had taught him in training.

He did not blink as I raised my knife hand, and he did not twitch when I threw the knife and it thudded into the wall-not precisely a quarter-centimeter from his cheek, but instead two millimeters closer, and with a drop of blood from his ear-which it had nicked in the throw-decorating the very tip of it.

"See?!" I exploded at last, marching furiously towards my immobile subordinate, flinging my arms out in frustration. "Do you see how terrible this is?!"

I was in his face now, screaming from hardly a breath away from him as he remained impassive, until I slapped him across the face and he grabbed my hand in a steel grip as I struggled half-heartedly to pull it away, too blind with anger to properly direct it in order to free myself, and soon I stopped even that half-assed effort when he took notice of my shaking hands in his.

"Luciano." His voice was calm and rational, and despite how I usually was, he managed to break through my temper to have me snap to him and his words.

"You are worried about this?" he questioned, bringing my hand-still clasped tightly in his own-up to my eyes, and I gave a half-irritated nod as he brought the ensnared palm up to his face, switching how he held my hand so instead our fingers were intertwined as he brushed my palm against his cheek, and I felt an odd lurch inside of me that instantly bothered me once more, though it had a certain... pleasure to it, I supposed. I was not too naïve to not recognize what this feeling must be-as Lutz grazed his flesh with my captured touch-but I was stubborn enough to lay the blame solely on the man before me and harshly demand that he stop, even as my heart beat erratically and I wondered if every contact between us might have felt like this before, if only I had allowed them to be as prolonged as this one was proving to be.

And of course, Lutz ignored my order, instead bringing my digits towards his lips to pepper them with light, feathery kisses that send a tremor through my body. I pressed myself closer to Lutz in hopes of easing the feeling that was running its course through my veins-a feeling that was uncomfortable and hot and not entirely unenjoyable in a way entirely foreign to me. But as Lutz continued to press his lips to my skin, I found that the odd feeling only built as he continued, mouth now traveling up from my hand, moving along my arm with the utmost care I had only seen him exhibit when gutting a particularly squirmy captive, when there was need to hold the blade as steady as possible in order to keep a clean cut as the victim writhed and screamed helplessly within his possession.

But the gleam in his eyes now was not the tradition sadistic one so often present in this household-this look was tender and strange and terrifyingly caring, and I at last pulled away from his attention with an effort that should not have been as great as it was, requiring more strength than should have been necessary to break from his lax grip on me.

I walked a few quick paces away from the German, staring at the wall across the room and breathing in heavy pants as I attempted to regain control over myself. I was clenching and unclenching my fists and jaw for quite some time until I thought to pull out my usual stress relievers, and instead I began flicking out and in the blade to a pocketknife as I tried desperately to squash the feeling inside I refused to accept and had decided was definitely more destructive and unwieldy than it might possibly be a new and interesting idea that could have even provided a sense of wonder and some other bullshit emotion I had no use for.

It was while I was attempting to reorder my head properly-so that it could instruct my body and heart that they were being absolutely ridiculous, and that I had no time or use for such idiocy-that I felt a pair of arms circle around my waist and a head rest itself on my shoulder.

Quicker than I could even consciously decide I was committing the action, I spun around and drove my knife into the shoulder of my sneaky assailant-except for it was obviously Lutz that grunted a hissed breath, locking eyes on me for a moment until I at last returned the gesture and yanked the blade from out of his flesh, wiping the blood on my pant leg in distaste before looking at the wound-a little fretfully, as disturbing as that was, though my brain was still scrambled from this man I had so deftly stabbed mere centimeters from his pulsating heart.

"Alright, alright, I get the message," he joked, as I tentatively reached towards the bloody hole in his body-damn those shaking fingers once more-and he did not recoil from the touch on the injury, but rather smiled at the contact-simpering, actually, at the hesitance behind it-and with his return to his most favored facial expression I plastered on my own signature scowl as I roughly yanked his muscle shirt over his head-smirking at the swift eagerness in his eyes at the removal of the clothing until I began ripping it to tatters-and used the strips to bind the wound, unaffected until he caught my chin with one of his gloved hands, holding me in place for a moment of scrutiny.

And then I was kissing him, shoving my tongue into his mouth and claiming dominance in a situation I had forgotten to remind myself that I wanted no part in, let alone a leading role-which, if I had to be in this position, there really was no way I would allow Lutz of all people to have control over me, despite how contradictory to that mindset I had behaved in recent light.

So, we kissed, and the force with which we did so left bruised and swollen lips when we parted, panting and looking at one another until I drew him in once more, without either of us having fully regained our breath, though the lack of oxygen and the desperate need for it which we were denying the other only added to the ferocity of the kiss, and when my teeth sank into Lutz's bottom lip-and the metallic taste of blood joined in with the mix of saliva, tongue, and an emotion whose power had overtaken even my own-I found no complaints in the other man, but rather appreciative moans that reverberated in my overheating body and triggered in my fuzzy brain the click that this was passion that all Italians were known for, and I had finally transcended into being just as human as country with this one simple act of abandoned release and love.

This time, when we pulled apart I gazed at Lutz and finally saw the god dammed love I had for the man just sitting in his stupid purple eyes locked on mine.

And finally I did the most logical thing I could formulate in my brain-I left the room on the spot, performing a complete one-eighty and going out the door, leaving Lutz still trying to catch his breath and with a closed, dazed look on his face as he watched me go.

Unlike other times though, on this occasion Lutz swift to react and I found myself pressed up against the wall of the corridor just outside the room, our breath mingling as our faces were millimeters from each other, until our mouths meshed together again and I had my arms wrapped around Lutz's neck, leading him to a spare bedroom meters away from us.

After all, if nothing was better than pain and causing it, lust-ad not the other four-letter "L" word-could be a close second as far as I was concerned.