He wiped his tears and played some Christmas music to cheer up. Elijah drove around aimlessly and listened to taps of rain on the windshield and the distant roll of thunder. His head felt more clear and the ball in chest felt lighter. He notice a small figure further down the road. Underneath the overhead he noticed that the little thing was wearing the dress he brought Clara. His suspicions were further confirmed by the thick woolen sweater and tights with knee high socks and boots. As his car drew closer he began to notice the girl was shaking. His mind blurred with a tsunami of worries. He waited no longer to pull over. Of course, he almost hit two cars in the process.
Elijah blasts the heater and slams open his door and runs toward the trembling little girl. Her pale face greets him and sent his heart down to the floor. "What happened?!" He cried and whisked her into his arms. Her icy skin burned the skin of his hands and made his eyes water. "Jesus, baby, you're ice cold!" His cupped her face and looked in her muddy eyes. He found her eyes to be distant, forlorn. His throat was tight and his eyes kept blinking away his tears. He kissed her eyes and tried to wake her up from her mind. "Baby, look at me," he demanded, his voice not far from a sob.
When he gaze came alive, her tears could not be controlled nor could the wobble of her bottom lip. "I can't do it!" She wailed. She threw her arms around his neck. He squeezed her to his chest trying to soothe her and himself.
"It's okay baby. I need to let you go. Can I take you somewhere better, more private?"
She sniffled against his chest and tried to resist clinging to him like a koala. "Please," he begged while he wiped her crocodile tears.
She relented but nonetheless whimpered at their loss of contact. She help onto his right arm as he steered the car with his left. Her tears soaked through his sleeves and he couldn't help but feel utterly lost. He couldn't under stand why she was in such a state when only last night she was cheerfully telling him all about her latest lemon pie. He made the unconscious decision of taking her home. She stared at him with her puffy little puppy eyes. She was curious of their location but trusted him. He came around and unbuckled her and placed her onto his hip. The rain, only drizzling now, reminded him of how wet she is. His first job, then, was to get her dry.
He's embarrassed by the littered take out food on the floor and countertop. His couch has blankets and papers thrown about and his TV is still on from when he hurried out this morning. It screamed hello, I'm a bachelor with no life. But, there was no time to make up an excuse.
Elijah stormed down the hallway. Once she was on his bed, he was already grabbing a towel. In a normal scenario, he would be foaming at the mouth with his little fantasies. But, again, now was not the time.
"Let's change you into some warmer clothes, yeah?" He pulls out his shirts and sweatpants and hands them to her. She stared at him with adoration and he gave her chaste forehead kiss. "I'll leave the room; come out when you're done, yeah? I'll get something for your tummy in the meantime," his hand smoothed over her rumbling stomach. She avoided him bashfully and he sent her a taunting smirk.
He took out a can of chicken noddle soup and poured it into a pot. He eyed the messy home with disgust. What a great first impression, he scorned. He doesn't have any more time to reprimand himself. Clara's feet pitter down the hallway and he smiles to himself at how her steps sound like little trots. She approached him. Her figured was drenched in his clothing and he found this especially appeasing. She looked like she belonged in the house, in fact he felt it was the first time he felt like the house had life in it. She looked like she was his--his little sleepy girl.
Now if we mark her skin.... she'll know who she belongs to. Then, we'll have her mark us. A reciprocal ownership.
He wanted to collapse to his knees and worship her. To fawn and droll all over her. Hold her every night. He opened his arms and she launched into his chest. She squeezed him close and inhaled his scent, going lax against his chest. He kissed her temple in thanks. "How do you feel, baby?" He didn't expect an answer and wanted to test the waters of her level of comfort. She needed to know he was attentive and caring. He needed her to trust him with things like this.
"I feel much better. Thank you for helping me—" She stopped herself from saying the word. Everyone around her always told her that was a bad word. It was naughty. It grossed people out. He recognized her hesitation and wanted to help coax the words out.
"It's okay. You call me by my name."
"I—I know.. I jus—t don't—" a gentle kiss on her forehead silenced her struggle.
"It's alright baby; you don't need to use big girl words right now; let daddy take care of you. And when you feel better we're gonna have a long and serious talk about why you were standing outside in the rain, crying. Understood?" She consented and rested in Elijah's arms with her eyes tiredly watching him spoon feed her soup. He rubbed her back to ease her tension. He cherished knowing that she trusted him to do these things for her.
He admired the girl that clung to him with a vigor that allowed him to die a happy man. If he could, he would spend all his time doting and caring for such a gentle person. Even if she broke him, he would always find peace in her image.
He wanted to be the only thing she saw and the only person she confided in. He wanted to be her most trusted friend and lover. He wanted to be her one. The person that cradled her after a rough day, kissed her tears away, and then fucked the sadness out of her. He wanted to be the only person.
He was willing to sacrifice anything for her happiness because her happiness was his. Much like her pain was his pain.
As he watched her drift off in his arms with her hooded eyes peering up with wonder he kissed her lovingly. The fire scorched his entire body, leaving nothing but his irrevocable devotion to care and love this creature. He kissed her, feeling full for the first time in over twenty years.
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
The Older Man
Романтика"So fucking tiny," his rough skin touches the smoothness of her wrist. She blushes at his thoughtful gaze and wonders how she even got into the predicament she's in. He was an older man, so old she had to sneak around to see him. He was calloused an...
