Carcinogen Crush

Carcinogen Crush
[I wrote all this, so please, do not steal my hard work.]

1. Morbid Attraction


I had first met Capulet at the funeral of a mutual friend; we stood directly across from each other on either side of the casket, and I couldn’t help but snag a guilty stare from over my large, black, square shades, and to my surprise, he was looking my way as well. I had tore my eyes away from him, his own pair of shades tilted downward, giving me a glimpse of the black lined eyes behind them. I stared down at the casket, poor Shiri, there she lay, dead inside a box because of an overdose of heroin; and there I was, giving the seductive eyes to the man across from me. I knew from when I saw him that day, not had a notion, not a hunch, no, I knew that Capulet would make a great lover.

After the official ceremony, everyone left and regrouped at a local church, covering us from the clouded, windy day. I remember that day so vividly, especially Capulet. I can still tell you so easily every detail about him. He was wearing a long, fleece-like, black trench coat, a pair of tight black jeans that could make any woman jealous of how his ass looked in them. His skin was deathly pale, an interesting contrast to the striking black color of his shaggy hair; he easily stood at six feet, if not a few inches taller, and I could scarcely see tattoos peering out on his neck.

Though I didn’t have the balls to speak to him, definitely not; I was lighting a candle in Shiri’s memory when I noticed him standing right beside me, bluntly, fearlessly, looking at me. I was petrified, a small smirk played on his lips as he lifted a lighter and lit a white candle; and just as I was about to tear myself away, to where I could breath again, he spoke.
“You’re Image, right?” I remember my exact thoughts being, ‘Jesus Christ, he knows my name?’ Of course, that’s not the only thing that shocked me, his voice was so...So sexy, soft, with dominant undertones that could’ve easily made every woman, no matter how grief stricken, become wet. I looked up at him finally, not quite meeting his eyes, “Uh-huh...” Wow, what stupid answer I gave him, he laughed a little, “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Capulet.” Capulet? What a glorious name I thought that was, but wait a second, nice to ‘finally’ meet me? “Excuse me?” I asked faintly, raising an eyebrow; He frowned, “How rude of me, Shiri spoke of you often. She always talked about her blonde, porcelain doll angel.” My cheeks went hot, and I laughed, stupidly. “Oh, well, she always called me to pick her up...” Capulet shifted, his hand on a table, “Yeah, she always told me about the great things you did for her, she was very lucky to have you or else she wouldn’t have lived as long as she had.” I stopped, and looked away; I could feel my face heating up again, though this time it was the stabbing pain of the loss of one of my best friends.

My eyes welled up with tears, and I tried to wipe them away, but they bubbled over before I had gotten a chance. I’m not sure when he had pulled me into his strong arms, but the next thing I knew was that I was sobbing into that perfectly sculpted chest, shaking, and blubbering about how I was still waiting for Shiri to show back up and tell me it was a big joke. He shushed me, which even through my weeping, sounded seductive; I felt his hot breath against my hair as he spoke softly against my head. I’m not entirely sure what he had said to me, however, I knew it soothed me; and sickeningly enough made me want him even more.

That evening I got my first taste of what would become a glorious, regular part of my life. Instead of me calling a cab, Capulet had driven me home, normally, I would’ve taken my own car, however, I had easily consumed enough alcohol to last myself a lifetime. The car ride was quiet, Capulet concentrating on driving through the now pouring rain, while we listened to a rendition of Beethoven’s Ave Maria. It sent a new wave of quiet tears through me, the sad undertones of the song making me shake with chills, which even today I blame on the weather.

We pulled up to my apartment building, and I began to fumble while unbuckling my seat belt; Capulet eyed me for a long moment, and then put the car in park and stepped out into the rain beneath a black umbrella. He came around to my side, seeming to glide through the rain, and opened up my door. He held his hand out to me, also tattooed with colorful and beautiful things; he effortlessly pulled me out of the car, hugging me to him, he was so warm, and walking towards the building. We stepped inside and he pulled the umbrella shut. I leaned against the wall, watching him as he set the umbrella carelessly beside the door. His eyes were suddenly on me, a feeling of heated tension rising in them as he stepped towards me, and all I could do was stare, my mouth gaping. His closed the gap between our bodies, his hand sliding down my side slowly, I shuddered, even his touch magical. His face came so close to mine that I could have kissed him, I almost closed my eyes, however, refused to let myself do so. I parted my lips, waiting for his gorgeous mouth to take mine against it, I couldn’t breath, and my heart skipped a beat when his hand came to my hip. And so unexpectedly, he reached into the pocket of my jeans, I took in a small gasp of breath...as he pulled out my apartment keys.

He turned away from me, tearing my gaze as he looked towards the stairs. He grabbed my hand and pulled me along, up the first two flights, and down the quiet hallway. Capulet seemed to know where he was going, and I was in awe, until I realized that my room number was on my key. We came to a stop at door number fifty five, I almost ran into him, he had stopped so quickly, however, I saved myself by almost falling over the side. He caught me, and setting me straight before turning back to the door and unlocking it, and leading me inside. I shrugged my jacket off and left it on the counter, beside where he had dropped my keys; he stood motionless in my living room for a long moment before turning to me. “You need to get some rest,” He smiled, so reassuringly that I felt as if I had known him for years. He took my hand, leading me into my bedroom, and I followed like a drunken puppy dog; he turned me towards him, my back towards the bed, he looked at me for a long moment before he came to my face just as closely as he had in the hallway. He slipped his jacket off, revealing two full sleeves of tattoos and a grey t-shirt that said ‘The Cure’ on it. It clung to his finely muscled chest and I couldn’t help but let my blurred vision stare, that is, until he cupped my chin and pulled me into a dark kiss. I was so stunned that I almost did not respond to the kiss, however, I pulled my senses together and returned the kiss, pushing my full lips to him. I reached up, placing my slender hands on his neck, parting my lips slightly, allowing his tongue to enter and dance with my own. I felt a metallic ball swirl against my tongue, oh God, he had a tongue ring.

He laid me down on the bed, his body barely above my own, held up by the weight of his tattooed arms, not breaking the kiss. After a moment, my sexual frustration rose, kissing was not enough. I bravely slid my hands down his chest, he tensed for a moment, as if contemplated on whether or not it was mistake. Though he relaxed after a moment, kissing me more forcefully now; I stifled a moan against his lips, the contact between us sending a heat down my chest, stomach and into my hips, which are extremely sensitive while I was aroused. I came to rest my hands on his hip, dipping my thumbs beneath his jeans, then, just as easily as he had started the contact, he broke it, so smoothly I almost didn’t realize he was standing up and about to grab his jacket.

The thought of loneliness sent a wave of panic through me, I sat up, desperation in my eyes, “Please,” I whispered, Capulet turned to look at me, a look of question on his lovely face, “Don’t go...” I begged quietly. He slowly sat back down, taking my hands into his own, “You’re safe,” he whispered into my ear, his lips brushing against it, I shivered, leaning towards his neck, wanting nothing but to kiss every inch of his tattooed body. He laughed softly and pushed me away gently, “Ah, ah, ah.” He ‘scolded,’ he traced his index finger across my lips, “You need to rest,” I could feel my excitement worsening with his touch, only making me want him more. He seemed to know this, revel in this; looking back on it now, I realize that it wasn’t really about me needing to sleep, it was about building the anticipation within me, making me want him more. I laid down after a moment of defeat, he sat there, stroking my hair, my cheek, and in the silence my thoughts drifted away from the perfection sitting beside me and back to Shiri. I let out a sigh, a new wave of tears sliding out of the side of my eyes.

I remember Capulet leaning down to my face, and kissing a tear away, and the next thing I knew, I was dreaming of so many things. I woke up the next morning to find myself still fully clothed, and alone. No trace of Capulet was to be found, his jacket was gone, he was nowhere in the house (believe me, I looked.) I felt a surge of panic go through me, was a he dream? I flittered around the house hysterically until there, lying on the countertop, on a white notepad, was a phone number.

And from then on, my life would forever be changed by the smoldering being that Capulet was.

To be continued...

[Author’s Notes: Hello everyone! Thank you for reading the first chapter of Carcinogen Crush! I hope you enjoyed it. I promise sexies will be in the next chapter, I’m sorry to disappoint anyone who was hoping for extreme dirtiness in this one, however, I wanted people to kind of get a feel for Image and Capulet first. Anyhow, comments, concerns, and thoughts are all encouraged, so until the next chapter, cheers.]