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Beauty of the Blistering Sky	By : UltraVioletSoul Category: +S through Z > Splinter Cell Views: 1828 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell or its characters. Neither do I own the song "Bullets" by Archive. No copyright infringement intended. I am just trying to provide entertainment, and by no means do I have lucrative purposes.

Chapter List
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- 9
Chapter IX
The spot between your legs still burned a little, but the discomfort had receded after some much needed cleansing. Even then, you had tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to find that comfortable position to fall asleep, to no avail. You had grown tired of this when you brought your knees to your chest, in a last attempt to get some sleep, and the soreness of your aching thighs made you let a small groan out. Sex surely was a workout you were not used to, much any less with a man with Sam’s athletic built and he, unsurprisingly, did not look worn out in the slightest. Eventually, he had exhausted you despite your natural yearning to keep reaching the pinnacle of ecstasy over and over, after the first time you knew the world of mutual enjoyment and physical indulgence.

You were glad it had been with him; you felt relieved that, even in his aroused state of mind, he had been careful enough not to hurt you so bad. You were happy it had not been some twenty-something-old jerk that would not even worry if you had your pleasure as long as he had his. You were aware this was meant to be a one-night stand but, even then, the man who was in your bathroom, at least, had the decency to make it pleasurable not only for him but for you, too. It had been an experience that you would certainly remember for the rest of your life, and you would treasure the memory of this night.

You heard the splash of water taking over the contiguous room, and knew that it would take him some more before he was done. Hands travelling across the sheets, you decided the bedding felt a little more than uncomfortable. You had never imagined two people could cause this mess, actually, but it did not surprise you to feel the sheets clingy and damp. Now that you thought about it, you should change them for cleaner ones to head for a comfy night sleep. He was already taking a shower, so there was no point in being neat and lying on a dirty bed, right?

You also wanted to make sure he did not see any blood.

Working as fast as you could, you took the bed linen to your washing place, and tucked it in the laundry bin. Returning to your bedroom, you grabbed a clean set of sheets and began dressing the mattress. Just as you were spreading the last piece, with a light wave of the fabric, the sound of pouring water stopped and your body flinched, when seconds later, the door opened.

He was standing at the entrance, rivulets of water dripping down his chest and neck from his salt-and-pepper hair. A towel was wrapped around his waist, maybe in a last attempt to show some decorum and tell you that whatever happened between you two was over. From now on there would not be passionate kisses or affectionate embraces.

To be honest, you had been expecting such a thing but not this soon. You certainly felt the painful lump forming in your throat at the sight of his brows knitted in a frown, and eyes burning with something you could not recognize as the earlier lust he had shown for you. His gaze most definitely did not speak about desire anymore; instead, it seemed to display displeasure and even frustration. Was it directed at you? Have you done something to offend him this much?

His jaw clenched tightly, lips forming such a taut line that they almost seemed to be non-existent. You flinched at his intimidating demeanor, nearly taking a step back when he drew closer to you. You even covered your nudity, if only as a way not to feel so vulnerable before him, casting your gaze down to your bare feet.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There it was; the question you had been dreading to hear tonight. Your chest tightened, and breathing unexpectedly became a challenging task. Of course he would figure it out, sooner or later, but you had not been prepared to face him this sooner– you did not want to. Yet the man stood before you, hands on your shoulders and a look of concern on his face as though you were a child he was about to tell off.

“Would it have made any difference?” You shrugged and fiddled with a handful of cloth in your hands. “Why you make it look like it’s such a big deal? I only—”

“Why didn’t you stop me?” There was clear irritation in his voice but, unbeknownst to you, he actufelt like a dick. The moral pressure this realization had put down on him was just too much to bear. You did not deserve this; you deserved better than him, yet you had given yourself out of gratitude. It had to be that, he thought. For you to do such a thing, it made him feel awful. “If I had known—”

“And that is why I didn’t tell you, Leo.” You took a breath, rubbing your arms, and avoided his stern eyes. “It was my decision to make. Am I less worthy because of that? What’s so bad about it?”

He sighed, clearly ticked off, turning his back to you and walking to the window. His frame was drawn in an outline of dark shades, the broadness of his shoulders culminating in the slimness of a supple waist and narrow hips. “It’s not that, (Name), but I can’t—”

You hurried to get close to him, burying your face in his back as your arms embraced him from behind. “I’m not here to crucify you. I perfectly know that we can’t be more than this. I know that, and I never asked for commitment on your part.”

Despite he made no motions to get you off him, he still never returned your affection and your heart sank in the depths of misery. You were hoping he would say something to reassure you, but those words never came. Instead, he merely began the massacre of your heart with words that carried repentance.

“We should have never done this. This was a big mistake.” His hands finally seemed to react, and removed you from him leaving you cold and confused.

“What?” Your jaw trembled, and your eyes burned with the hopelessness of a child who had been robbed of all her dreams. He had to be kidding you, right? You wished this would be a bad joke from him, but the situation was too delicate for something like that. For the first few seconds you could not bring yourself to do more than watch him as he gathered his clothes, which formed a small pile on the floor, never giving you as much as glance in the process. You felt as though you had been slapped on the face, but the pain his indifference caused had been far worse than that. “What are you talking about? A mistake?” You did not understand. Was he disgusted by the idea of sleeping with a virgin so much he actually had to treat you like this?

“That’s right.” How could he even say it with a straight face?

“Then why did you come here?” You could not take any more of this; you were not about to let him humiliate you in this cruel way. Your question seemed to take him by surprise, as there was a flicker of doubt and guilt in his green eyes. “If this was going to be a big mistake, why the hell didn’t you stay home tonight? Why the hell didn’t you make life easier for both of us, and never showed up here?”

He frowned, and made that scrunch of his nose you knew all too well. “That has nothing to do with—”

“Nothing to do?! For goodness’ sake! It has everything to do! You come here, and next thing I know is that you’re taking off my clothes!” Rage was all you could feel at this heated moment, feeling more hurt at his evasive attitude.

“I told you to stop me.” He mumbled through gritted teeth, shaking his head in denial.

“Is that statement supposed to put all the blame on me?” You let out a derisive small laugh. “You’re unbelievable!”

“I told you I’m not the man you thought I was.”

“Yes! You were right! If we talk about mistakes I’ve also made one by thinking that you were a better man than the rest!”

“It’s not as simple as that and, trust me, it’d be better if we left it at this.”

“What are you scared of, huh? Do you think me so stupid that I can’t understand that you’re terrified I may try to clip your wings? Then stop it; stop insulting my intellect and just go.” This was what you feared the most. The pain in your chest became more intense, hands balled in a fist and nostrils flaring in arduous attempts to breathe.

“(Name—).”

“I want you to walk out of that door.” You pointed at the entrance of your bedroom, anger boiling in your wounded gaze. “You think you can just come here and have your way with me and then make me feel as though it’s my fault that you’re having a fucking crisis of conscience? You’re wrong, Mr. I’m-too-good-for-you. I won’t have any of that. Leave.”

He might have been the first man in your life, but you were not about to let him step over your feelings. Oh God, how stupid you had been! Your heart painfully pounded inside your chest, sadness constricting the poor muscle and threatening to make you break down any time. You were not going to cry; not in front of him. You wanted him to go, to let you collect the pieces of your broken pride and shattered dreams of what could have been and never was.

It was not long before the door closed and you found yourself alone– lonely and devastated. You hated yourself for giving him reasons to hurt you; you hated yourself but could never hate him for what he had done. He had been right, in some way. You had taken the risks, and the consequences of your stupidity were disenchantment and an aching body that would forever remember him. You had let him use you, even after all the red flags he had raised for you to see. Could he really be at blame when you could have said ‘no’?

He was gone now, but not in the way you had expected. It was not the goodbye you had dreamed, neither the memory you would treasure with love. It filled you with impotency, with indignation and desolation. You felt so cold and abandoned, unloved and discarded. Your hands reached to rub your forearms, in an attempt to find absent warmth, feet walking backwards and body blindly searching the bed for support. He was gone, leaving nothing more than a ghost of bitterness and regret for you.

It was then that you allowed all your grief to freely flow with a desperate sob, teeth chattering and sight blurring in salty tears. You covered your mouth to muffle pitiful sniffs, not wanting him to hear your grief. The last thing you wanted him to know was that he had affected you this much.

You squealed in upset and surprise when a pair of hands gently held your face and thumbs wiped your tears, before a soothing voice mumbled a low-pitched ‘sorry’ close to your ear. Your first reaction would have been to wind your arms around his neck, embrace him like the last time he comforted you, but not this time. Not with this man.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You slapped his hands away from you, meeting a resolute gaze as you did. He was knelt between your legs, and you felt angry that your body still reacted to his proximity, inner legs already moist and skin flushed. Your mind also betrayed you, picturing him burying his tongue inside of you and teasing your clit as his hands stroked your breasts. It was not fair, and you brought the sheets closer to you to stop any advances from him, lest he decided to play dirty tricks on you. “I told you to leave! Why are you still here? Didn’t I make myself clear? Do I have to say it in another language for you to understand?”

His presence alone unnerved you and your aroused state did not help, in the least. It was confusing, infuriating and stirring as you wished he would trap you with his strong arms, and make love to you without another word. Forget the mixed feelings; forget the anger. Let animal desire take over, let it numb your heart and pray for him to be gone when you woke up.

His hands reached for yours, and held them. “Please, listen to me. I’m sorry, (Name). I didn’t mean to hurt you like this. I never wanted to.”

“Leave me alone.” You spat, trying to sound serious but all you managed to do was for your words to come off broken and wretched. “You have no right to do this. Go away and leave me be. I’ve already had enough.”

“I know I had no right but, for a moment, I felt scared, alright?” Sam felt ashamed to admit it, even then, but that was the truth. “I didn’t know what to do, what make of this.” His fingers caressed the knuckles of yours, warming up your cold hands and you sniffed, helplessly, trying to break free. “I never considered the damage my words could cause to you. Even a man like me sometimes forgets that being with a woman requires certain level of sensitivity, and I admit that was never my forte.” He sighed, irritated at himself for not being able to find the right words. “I’m not scared of a woman clipping my wings; I’m scared of clipping hers, do you understand? It’s been years ever since I’ve been with someone and finding that you went as far as to do this for me– I didn’t know what to think.” You still were silent, staring at your lap, but he carried on. “I thought that if I–”

He seemed not to know how to carry on, so he simply placed a hand on your cheek and fleetingly nodded before getting up. You still said nothing, shoulders trembling and breathing coming off unsteady. Your hands were on your mouth, muffling sobs, and your eyes were full of tears. He was leaving now; what would you do now? Watch him walk out on you, as your pride was telling you to do? Tell him to stay, as your heart begged you to do?

There was no decision to make, you knew this.

You quickly reached for his hand, stopping him in his tracks. He gave you a confused look, and you allowed your fingers to intertwine with his. You did not know what to say, but the silence you shared was all you needed to make up for words that would never come. The look in your eyes told him that you could never hate him, but his told you he could never be yours. Even so, you did not care. In a rush, you were on your feet throwing your arms around him. His lips met softness and warmth, and you both tasted the sweet moment of appeasement mixed with the saltiness of past sorrow.

The defenses you had been trying to build became undone.

Oh, God. You could not stop the embarrassing stream of tears pouring from your eyes. You hated it when you cried, honestly. Even the last time your ex-boyfriend told you all those ugly things, it had not hurt so much as this time. Surely, you had been shocked and upset but had not thought he was worth the trouble and pain of crying more than one night– if anything, you thought you had felt more sad about your near death experience, and angry towards him because it all had been his fault. However, Sam had made you feel what no other man had ever before, and it had felt heartbreaking to have him reject you after that. Why did he have to behave like a jerk now of all times?

“I hate you.” You sobbed, while covering his face with kisses. “I hate you.”

“If this is your definition of hatred, then hate me all you want.” He nuzzled your neck, and wound his arms around your frame bringing closer to him.

You took a deep breath, trying to quiet down. “Is that true, Leo? You haven’t been with someone for a long time?”

He chuckled, rubbing your back. “You wouldn’t expect an old man like me to have a bunch of ladies after him, right? You weren’t the only one who had a first time.”

You playfully slapped his arm, and placed a peck on his chin. There was a pause while you dried your face and led him to bed, making yourself comfortable under the sheets with a contented sigh. Nevertheless, he remained motionless and you looked up at him with confused eyes. Was he having second thoughts, again?

“Is something the matter?”

“Did I hurt you when we did it?” His blunt question took you by surprise, but you simply laughed under your breath and shook your head.

“It wasn’t as bad as they said it would be; thanks.” You had to appreciate his concern for you. It had not been excruciating, at all. Honestly, the discomfort had subsided though the soreness in your muscles still remained. “Now would you come back to bed with me?”

“I thought you wanted me to leave.” Sam arched an eyebrow, trying to hide the beginnings of a smirk as he watched you made a face of disbelief.

“Are you really going to argue me on that?” You pouted, propping yourself up on an elbow and letting the sheet fall just a little to show your cleavage– more like a naked breast. “Are all men complicated like you?”

“I’m not complicated.” He let the towel fall in a pool around his feet, taking a step towards bed. Your breath caught in your throat, as you watched him approach with almost gliding motions. There still were droplets on his skin and hair, and they fleetingly shone as he moved about to lie by your side. He shifted ever so slightly and slid a massive arm under your neck, cuddling you against his side. “I try to be reasonable.”

“So is reason what brought us together?” You gave him a sly smile, tracing the contour of his pectorals with the tip of your fingers. “I have to say you’re a very bad liar, Mr. Leo.”

He snorted at that, turning on his side to face you. “It isn’t about convincing the other person when you lie, but to yourself that the lie is actually the truth. As a matter of fact, I believe myself to be a rational man who simply thought it’d be illogical not to be with you.” He played with your hair, once more, enjoying the texture of your tresses wrapped around his fingers. “Would that explanation suffice, my Fair Lady?”

You giggled, wholeheartedly, caressing his rough nape, which sported itching bristles, and rubbing your nose against his. “It will do, Sir.” The light smile he carried disappeared, with a brisk melancholy, and you noticed the shade of remorse lurking in his jade eyes. You perfectly knew what he was thinking about, and it hurt you a big deal– even now. Shaking your head, you cupped his cheek in your hand and traced the outline of his lips with your index finger, feeling the strong desire to kiss them again. “Please, don’t tell me you regret it. Don’t tell me that. I don’t, so why should you?”

He searched for a sign of genuine contentment; something that would tell him he had not disappointed you. Still, it was not easy dealing with the fact that he had been your first man; that you would carry the memory of him for the rest of your life. Being the one who made you a woman surely had stirred some unknown desire he could not understand; it went beyond simple lust– beyond the unpretentious need to make you his until the break of dawn. He felt it when he looked in your eyes, those beautiful eyes of yours, and he knew had seen them before– he had gotten lost in them way before.

“I just thought maybe you’d have liked to do it with, you know, someone special.”

You laughed at him, and buried your face in his neck. “And what do you think you are, silly? Good Lord, not only can you be a jerk sometimes but you can’t see the obvious truth, can you?” It was not an accusation, but a poor attempted humor of your own accompanied by laughter that died when he remained silent at your words. “It was my decision to make, not yours. I did it because I wanted, and I’m glad it was with you.”

“That’s gotta be one of the nicest things I’ve heard in a long time.” Sam mused, again turning on his back and allowing his gaze to wander in the strange world outside the window.

“And why’d you say that?” You placed a palm on his torso and rested your chin on it, offering a curious look.

“It’s nothing.” He uttered with a straight face, and you licked your lips in a nervous manner.

“I hope I’m not intruding too much but, is there a possibility that there might someone waiting for you back home?” You were not sure if you wanted to know the truth but you had to. “It’s okay if you—”

“My daughter.” He was, suddenly, all smiles and you could see that he loved her deeply. “I haven’t seen her in some time, but I try to keep a steady contact with her. You know how it’s like; kids grow wings and they leave the nest. They leave us missing the good ol’ days.”

You also smiled, with him, feeling happy that he had someone. “What about her Mom?” You had noticed the lack of a wedding ring on his finger but you still needed to ask. Maybe he was a married man; maybe you were destroying someone else’s heart. You had not thought about this until now, and the idea mortified you.

“She’s dead.” His expression darkened, once again, and you averted your gaze from his settling on resting your head against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You truly felt this way. It made sense that he would come looking for you, then.

“It’s fine; we were no longer married when she passed away. I guess that helped.” He knew it was not true. When Regan died, he was devastated and the guilt he felt ate his conscience away every night. However, he did not want you to feel pity on him. That was the last thing he needed from you. “My daughter was very young when it happened.”

You licked your lips once more, and felt grateful when one of his arms embraced you. “That must have been pretty tough on her. My parents also died when I was a child. A foster family took care of us; my brother and I.”

Sam could understand that feeling. His parents had also died when he was just a kid, and his early years had been spent in a military boarding school. He had no siblings to speak of– blood-related siblings, that is– so he believed that you, in some way, had been lucky to have someone to rely on in those times of need.

“What happened to your parents?” He rubbed your back and you sighed, humming in pleasure in time with his ministrations.

“They were found dead in their apartment; shot in the head.” Your hand caressing his chest trembled, and so did your voice. “The Militsiyaconcluded that it was suicide; that their hands were the ones to pull the trigger.”

“And what do you believe it was?”

“Me? I’m sure as hell it didn’t go like that. Why would they do so when they had two children? What reason would they have to kill themselves? It just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

An unnerving silence followed, and you merely cuddled against him, body seeking his warmth.

“I’m sorry.” Sam finally said.

“It’s fine; I don’t remember much of them. I guess that helped.” You imitated his response, and lifted your head to meet his pensive eyes studying you with newfound interest. “Actually, I don’t remember a single thing about them. I don’t know if my brother is the lucky one, or is it supposed to be me.”

“There are things better off forgotten.” His hand stroked your cheek, and you feebly smiled.

“I think you may be right.”
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Beauty of the Blistering Sky