13. Motley
THIRTEEN
The sound of glass breaking can be heard from the room next to mine. It doesn’t take long to know who it is. It’s become Harley’s routine for the past two years now. I’ll only be able to paint a picture using the details he gave me, but Harley can paint a picture from his experience. He’s not the same as he once was. The life of the party, bubbly guy without a care in the world me and Weston grew up with is no longer there. That part of Harley got buried that night two years ago and I can’t blame him. None of us can. More sounds of the sharp and tinkling noise vibrate the walls when Weston walks in. Sitting on the edge of the bed next to me, we stare straight ahead where Harley’s room is.
“Do you have another?” Weston asks. I nod, getting up and entering my closet. I swipe the hung clothes to the side allowing me to grab another sheet of mirrored glass. I started buying them in bulk when this became persistent. There’s nothing me or Weston could say or do that would stop him from doing it. It’s something that goes completely unspoken…yet…very loud. Harley never brings up the accident anymore, but we know he blames himself for it every single day.
Holding the mirror, I now stand right in front of my bedroom door, waiting to hear his open and slam shut along with the front door.
“Get the glue,” I whisper over to Weston.
“I already have it,” he says, pulling out the tube of adhesive from his back pocket.
Once the sound of doors slamming shut is gone, we walk to the room over, heading into Harley’s bathroom to look at the damage. The scene of disarray is decorated with shattered glass scattering the tiles and countertops, like a constellation of fractured reflections.
“Not a hint of glass remains on the wall…” Weston says as our steps crunch deeper into the bathroom. I gaze through all the broken pieces in search of finding traces of his blood. My search is cut off when I see the unrolled gauze bandages in the corner of the floor. Picking it up, I hold it out showing Weston.
“Well…he’s using protection.”
“Motley, this isn’t something to joke about.” Weston’s voice is serious and cold. I scoff, setting down the mirror on the counter for him to start gluing it.
“Oh come on, Wes. If anything, we’re the ones that are just feeding into it by putting a new one back up every time he has an episode.”
“It’s better than punching through the walls or taking it out on us, or anyone else.”
“Harley would never take it out on anyone.” Weston looks at me for a moment before he continues swirling on the glue.
“Wes, you actually think Harley would never take it out on someone?” He waits until the mirror is on the wall, holding it in place so the mirror doesn”t slide down.
“He wouldn’t take it out on us…” I look at Weston for a second then leave the room with a sense of urgency. Turning the corner, I look at the hooks hanging by the front door, only seeing two masks.
“Wes!” I call out. His heavy steps trail out of the room, approaching my side and following my sight.
“He’s going after our angel.”
Shattered glass doesn’t break a mirror, all it gives you is a hundred more reflections. That’s a hundred different images I see of that sweet little nobody I met two years ago. I need something else to shatter, something else that gives me a challenge. What’s more perfect than the angel herself?
Her lamp glows the balcony, telling me she’s still awake. At least she”s closing her blinds now.
Wrapping my hand around the door knob, I twist it slowly. But the door is unlocked…
Pushing the door open, I walk into the room to see her laying on the bed with her head staring straight at me. With her arms crossed and the pissed off look she shoots at me, you would think she’s a mom waiting for her misbehaved kid to come home.
“Miss me already?” she asks sarcastically with her expressionless face to match.
“You’re the one leaving the door unlocked, patiently waiting for my arrival. I could ask you the same question.”
“No point in locking it,” she says, moving the covers and revealing her cotton pajama shorts. Her feet swing over the bed, getting up and walking over to me with purpose. Pointing her finger at my face inches away, her eyes show darkness just like mine. Interesting.
“You can try to fucking break me, ringleader. Just know that I’ve already taken down one circus. I won’t hesitate tearing yours apart and barely leaving the memory of it. Fucking. Try me,” she spits. Her breathing grows fast, making her chest rise and fall with haste.
Ringleader…that’s a new one.
“I’m not the enemy here, angel. If that’s what you think, then you are entirely wrong.” Her eyebrows twitch inward for a second, not understanding the slightest of what I mean.
“What is it you and your puppets want, then?”
“Revenge,” I say, pushing her back on the bed. She sits back up, inching her way towards the headboard. I close the distance, crawling on her bed.
“Do it,” she challenges, already having read my mind.
I grip the hem of her shorts, sliding them down and revealing her bare pussy for me.
“You want this, angel?” I muse, now laying right in between her thighs as I give them slow, little kisses. “Does my angel want to earn her wings?” I bite down on her thigh then lick over it to soothe the sting. Her mouth parts open just the slightest bit.
“I said do it,” she grits.
I trail kisses all the way to her slit, taking in her scent. Fuck, I hate it…She’s heaven on earth.
I lick up her slit before plunging my mouth in her pussy. Her taste makes me lick all of it up like I’m a dog dying of thirst. I circle my tongue around her clit as a whimper escapes her lips. I look up at her through my mask, watching her head fall back and eyes close. I flick my tongue, taking turns between flicking and sucking. I can feel her pussy get wetter by the second.
“I fucking hate you,” I say. “I hate all of you.” I plunge my tongue in her entrance, thrusting it in and out, feeling her thighs start to cave in around my head. I grip them, pushing them back open while her hands grip the sheets.
“God…” she moans out.
“God doesn’t answer to fallen angels.” I lick her back up, my mouth around her clit as I suck on it. Her hips start to move up and down my face as I hum into her pussy, making her moan out more.
“I thought I was about to earn my wings,” she pants.
“You can still have wings and remain evil,” I muse. “Now be a good obedient slut and come for me. Come all over my face.” I flatten my tongue and stop as her hips take over the pace. Her body starts shaking as she goes mad up and down.
“Oh, fuck!” she cries. Her rhythm becomes erratic as she’s about to come undone. I pull away at the last second, watching as her head pops up but quickly falls back. Her hips rock for a second of their own accord, not realizing yet that there will be no release. I watch her ruined orgasm unravel, her frustrated groans making me smirk.
Her breathing slows down, coming back down from her almost euphoria when I lick her entrance once more, wanting to get a taste of her sweet nectar. She jolts her hips a little from my tongue, but I pull away just as fast, now crawling back off the bed.
“I fucking hate you,” she hisses, still coming down from it all.
“I promise you’ll hate me even more by the time we’re done,” I say. I walk back onto her balcony and climb over the railing as I jump down.
I walk through the grass, licking my lips while still tasting her. The gun I brought with me still tucked in my jeans.
I hate you, Winver Sage…