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Not Now, but Soon	By : Las Category: M through R > Perfect Stranger Views: 1515 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the movie that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Not Now, but Soon
- 2-No Returns, No Refunds
- 1
- 2
“Paying the Piper”

By Loup Garou

Disclaimer: No, Perfect
Stranger is not mine.

The icy dread was making it harder and
harder to breath. She could even get in a proper breath. Her chest
was so tight and restricting. Lungs begged for oxygen that could not
be delivered. Instead of catching her breath, she drowned more in
herself.

That feeling. The feeling you get when
you know you're in trouble; when you know you're caught and there's
no way out. It was the worst feeling in the world. Hope was lost, and
things felt as if they would never be right again. Even though
despite the feeling at the time they tend to work out in the end...
But this wouldn't. She really had reached the end of her line. Like a
cat who had lost all it's nine lives. No redemption. No saving grace.
Grace... How she hated that word.

Her lips trembled, but no words could
come out. Weakening lungs could do little for her, let alone suppose
air for actual words. No, not a sound. Not even a whimper. Just
silent tears falling down her high cheekbones. She screwed up. She
screwed up big time... In fact, it didn't even give justice to just
how bad things were. She was caught! Caught in a corner, and no
twisting or turning could get her out.

There was a voice droning on and on,
but paid little attention. Very little attention even though the
voice now had control of her and her future. The voice knew too much.
It had figured everything out, and recited back to her all the events
that led up to this point. Her stomach... It heaved; threatening to
dispose of everything that was in it. But she swallowed it, the
growing bile. On auto-pilot she was following the voice around. Still
not hearing, and feeling very little. At one point she was sure she
had curled herself into a ball while resting her head on the voice's
lap as it went on about her “carefully” laid plan. The
plan that failed. She didn't notice how her body started to tremble,
or how the voice now paused every now and then as if to assess her.
There was little to be done though. Very little. She was becoming
catatonic and ill with how things were turning out. It was the end.
It was the end. It was the end. Oh god... Her stomach heaved again.

And the voice went on.

It was moving away from her, having sat
her up and moved off the couch. She followed wordlessly. Soundlessly.
Even without hearing, she could tell the voice was winding down. It
was almost through with it's little speech. The one she hadn't heard
a word off.

They were now in the kitchen, her and
the voice. She was vaguely aware that it was silent for a bit as if
waiting for her response, but she couldn't even muster a at the
voice. Instead she leaned against the sink looking out the window
above it. Her fingers were clutching the sink's edge in a fiercely
tight grip. The warm color of her skin was turning white from the
strain.

“Ro?”

The voice was calling her, but she was
so far away. It was just a muffled inquiry in her head. Yet her head
and vision tilted down to the counter top. To the left of the sink.
It was long and shiny. The blade polished and sharpened to
perfection.

“Ro?”

She still wasn't responding. The voice
was curious as to what she was thinking or doing. It couldn't see
beyond her back. Her hands were momentarily hidden. Oh... The knife.
Use it to fix this problem. This would be the last problem before she
could life a peaceful life. The life she's always wanted. The left
hand began inching along the Formica counter top towards the black
handle of the stainless steel blade.

“Rowena!”

It urged her faster, and her fingers
were curled around the black plastic faster than an eye blink.
Freedom. Do it for the freedom. She whirled around, the knife already
held up in the air. Her face held fury, but also a trace of sadness
and regret. But what other choice did she have?

The voice saw her turn quickly, and saw
that her hand held a chopping knife. It was aimed at its heart, but
the voice refused to die. This was a game that it had won. The
voice's hand flew up and with little effort caught the distraught
female's wrist in a vice-like grip. She could do nothing to actually
fight him... For though upset, deep down she didn't want to.

“Drop it,” the voice
ordered with a slight hint of menace.

“Miles...” Pleaded her soft
voice. Weakened by her panicked breathing and tiredness with this
whole situation. Yet she didn't resist anymore. She let the knife
fall from her limp hand. It clattered on the floor and became
harmless.

Miles, the voice, stared at the
trembling creature before him. Her eyes were half wild with fear. She
truly was a cornered cat, with dilated eyes and a shaking frame. And
still utterly beautiful. Never had he wanted her more. Now there was
nothing there to stop him. She was his to do as he pleased, for she
was not trapped in debt with him. For him to keep his lips sealed
would take so much from her part. He knew it, and she knew it.
Perhaps that's why her slim body quaked so. Freedom was forfeit now.

“So fucking beautiful. I've
waited so long for this...” He didn't seem so mad anymore. Not
at all perturbed by her recent attempt on his life. He doubted she
would really try that again. There were more silent tears leaking
from under heavy lashes as she had closed her eyes. Probably to block
out her growing fear and anxiety.

Her voice had left her again. She was
stock still as he examined her like he had done so many times in the
past. But this time, unlike others, she couldn't ignore it. She
couldn't even tug her hand from his tight grasp. Eyes remained closed
since she wanted to see none of this. Didn't want to see a thing. Not
the way his eyes devoured her with lust and secret planning, that
wicked smile....

“Please, let me go,” she
managed to whimper. Eyes remained tightly shut. She certainly was
asking for more than just her hand back.

Miles scoffed as he noticed what she
was asking for as well.

“Can't do that, Ro. You owe me.
You owe me a lot.”

It was the answer she was afraid of. He
didn't release her wrist, but he did drop their hands down to in
between them. Far from the cute hand holding of people in puppy love.
Far from it. She worried her lip with her teeth. Biting hard enough
to leave marks, and a bit more pressure off from drawing blood. This
suppressed the first noise of her crying. A sob that she had been
holding this whole time. Rowena tried to swallow it back, but it
became a painful lump in her throat. Which wasn't any better than
letting it out. Her fact was salty and damp, but the tears kept
coming. Eventually they would run out, and her already exhausted body
would collapse. Tragically she wouldn't be able to sleep forever.
Tragically none of this was a dream.

Miles was tugging her. Towards the
living room no doubt. Having pulled back into herself, Rowena
followed mutely. Again no protest. Miles sat on the couch, and gave
her no room to protest as he tugged her down beside him.

She sat stiffly. It was quite obvious
their friendship was dissolved, and sitting with him only made things
harder to bare. All these years he's had a crush on her, and now she
was for his disposal. Wait... No, not a crush. An obsession. One
that grew everyday that he spent in her presence. Ugh, that retching
feeling was back. Her best friend was now her worst enemy. So long
ago she decided she couldn't return his affections, but now what
could she do?

Die. She could die. More specifically,
kill herself. That knife was good for her too. Or that leftover
Belladonna... To just die would end all this. It's been going on too
long. Way before Miles was even involved. Since she was a child her
life has been a big game, and now when she thought she had reached
the end and victory, she realized it was a different type of end. She
should run. Bolt away from all this. And then deal her own fate, but
a hand was still holding her wrist securely. Every now and again it
would squeeze it, causing a small twinge of pain to flare up. She
tugged back a bit, trying to give the not so subtle hint to let go.
It did nothing. He wasn't going to.

Actually, instead, he leaned forward.
His body turn towards her as much as possible on the couch without
pulling his leg up. And she sat in the same fashion next to him.
Though minus any intention of leaning closer than she already was.

“Ro, you don't know how much I've
wanted to over the years. God, you're so fucking amazing,” it
was almost as if he were still in shock and afraid to make a move.
The hand that didn't clutch at her wrist came up and stroked along
her cheekbone. It wiped away left over salty tears that began to dry.
She hadn't realized she wasn't crying anymore. Didn't mean she felt
any better. Didn't mean she didn't feel like vomiting this very
moment.

“That's nothing new, Miles,”
she snapped. The tone was bitter and acidic. It was quite clear she
didn't appreciate a single thing from this. And that's when the first
order came...

“Watch yourself. I own you now,
and you better watch your mouth and tone.”

Rowena didn't say a thing, but averted
her eyes and stared off angrily to the corner of the room. This
didn't suit Miles either. He roughly grabbed her chin and jerked her
head back his way. Dark eyes snapped on him, as he just smiled in
what Rowena would call a malicious fashion.

Now he didn't hesitate. With a tight
grip on her chin, he was leaning in closer, obviously wanting a kiss.
She started to tremble again. There was no more reservation as he
locked lips with her. He didn't care of her aching fear, and he only
pushed more with the needy kiss. It sucked what little breath she had
in her away. It was hot and wet, not on her part, but his. She was
frozen and unresponsive as Miles went on like this for a few long
moments. But then he paused, realizing he wasn't getting a response
from his prize. It annoyed him to say the least, but would be easily
solved. He had barely pulled back before, but now he was back with a
vengeance. Teeth clamped down on her bottom lip. Hard. Hard enough
that blood would mingle in soon. Nonetheless, it had its desired
effect. Rowena gasped, effectively opening her mouth. It allowed his
warm tongue to slip in to taste her.

To him, she was very sweet with just a
hint of tang. Of course that could be the bit of blood that now mixed
with their saliva. But he found it delicious. Addictive. He wanted
more. He wanted to taste all of her, but she was going limp in his
arms. Finally he released her wrist, only to place it behind her
head. Entwining his fingers with her soft wavy hair. He held tightly,
causing, yet again more pain. Right now, it didn't matter. For years
he's wanted this. The pink tongue explored every corner of the
weakening girl's mouth. He felt a vibration between their lips, and
it took him a moment to realize he was moaning softly. The heat was
practically burning him. God, he wanted this so bad. The arousal was
intense, mind blowing even before the first orgasm. It would be so
good when the time came. It would be so good when he fucked her. So
very good.

Her senses were failing and she was
becoming faint. It was unsure if it was because of the breath-taking
kiss or the building stress on her system. But whatever it was, the
girl felt like she could sleep forever. Eyes had already dropped
shut, even as lips continued to ravage her own. Even has the taste of
her own blood filled her mouth. Her tongue remained immobile. She did
nothing but let the other tongue explore her mouth, leaving traces of
its own taste. He tasted like the wine he had been drinking earlier
and something else. Something much deeper and masculine. To her
chagrin, it wasn't a bad taste either. Just so unwanted. It was like
poison on her tongue. Deep, romantic poison. Yet, she was still
fading. Blackness was calling to her. And now that it did, she
realized she was afraid to answer. Afraid to leave herself even more
exposed with her captor. Still, she couldn't help it. Couldn't stop
it. It was consuming her like the kiss. Hands were now supporting her
up, but those hands turned to clouds and she finally went under. She
finally passed out from mental exhaustion and stress.

No sooner then when she truly was out
of it, did the kiss stop.

Miles was not upset. Far from it.
Things had just begun. It could only get better from her. For now, he
would let her sleep. Albeit, all the energy in the world wasn't
going to save her from what was to come. Her life sentence would be a
long, and if she was good, pleasurable one. If not... Well, we all
know how that goes.
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