Serpent's Deceit(Entry 013)

 

Thighs press against thighs, chest against chest, breath on neck and heartbeat against ear. This might sound like a situation I will be in with Dax, right? Well, wrong. It is that guy whose name I do not know yet.

I am still trying to process how I have ended up in such a situation.

Leo, his bodyguard, is the guy who came with him and his dad yesterday. He has actually come and pulled Dax into a minivan, by his boss’s son’s order. I am still worried about what they might do to Dax when this guy stands before me on a bike. Instead of standing with the bike between his thighs, he actually comes down and stands beside it. 

“Get on,” he commands, gesturing to the bike, an ashy helmet, the same colour as his bike, on his head with his eyes peeking out from the uncovered visor. Without a word, I move to the backside of the bike.

“Not there,” he almost snaps at me. I give him a confused look. Where else?

“Get in the front.” He answers my thought, jerking his head in the other direction. My blood boils. I already have the vision of what is going to happen if I sit in the front. I am not sure why he wants me to do that, but there is definitely some perverted motive.

The minivan’s roaring engine brings my attention. Dax is in there, still before me. Within seconds, we will part ways. I still do not know what they will do to him. I still do not know if it is a good idea. I do not have any choices either.

Sighing, I move to the front of the bike and swing one of the legs to the other side. That makes him protest. 

“No, no.” He moves closer, grabbing the handle of the bike as it begins to move. Squinting at me, he commands, “Face the other way.”

See, I have known that there is a perverted motive!

“Definitely not,” I mumble. However, I get down. Protesting will not do me any good, I know, when he has a firearm at his waist. As if reading my thoughts, he inquires, “Do you want to die?”

The question almost makes me laugh. Do I want to die? Who wants to die? Moreover, if I say ‘no’ and don't follow his orders, he won't shoot me?

I try one last time. “I’m not facing you while you ride the bike.”

He makes a sound with his tongue, and I do not have to look up at him to see that he is making that nasty gesture again. His next words prove it. “So, will you rather face me when you ride my—”

“Not relevant,” I forcefully cut him off. After he says that, I really do not wanna go with him. I think he senses that because he moves to be in my visual field again. My eyes travel up to his half-covered face. 

“Don’t make me force you.” Normally, these words should sound like begging when someone says them. But everything that comes out of his mouth without mocking sounds commanding. “Get in.” Another command.

I get in without any more protest. There is no use of that anyway. Moreover, I already feel tired. 

It is hard to do things the way they are not supposed to be done. I swing the leg, placing my hip on the junction of the gas cover and the seat. Before the feet can touch the ground, I lose my balance and tumble forward. However, I do not fall over because that guy gets in the way just in time. My face hits his chest as he places his hip on the seat. At the physical contact, I jerk back instinctively as if I am struck by lightning. He is again squinting at me.

“Place your ass on the seat.” He jerks his head downwards between us. I look down, and the first thing that catches my eye is the tent in his stretched pants. He… I cannot tell if it is what I think it is. It can be just the fabric. I am not sure. But thinking that that part will be touching me if I sit right now…

He moves his hands. Our eyes lock as I look up. I cannot translate the look in his eyes. They just look… neutral. Hiding the facial expressions makes it hard to read the eyes as well, it seems. Keeping his eyes on me, he starts the engine. The sudden vibration makes me slide down and stop against…where I have been staring for a few seconds. Yes, that is exactly what I have thought it is, and no, it is not the fabric. I try moving back, but it goes in vain. I am kinda stuck, and there is no place behind me.

“Stop wiggling,” he commands again, handing me a helmet. I put it on my head and bring my fingers to the straps to secure it. With horror, I realise I cannot exactly do it. 

“You are good for nothing.” He moves his hands from the handle and fixes my straps before moving them back to the handle. As he pulls up the kickstand and pulls his legs up, the action makes him lean forward. I lean back, propping my arms on the gas cover. But as the bike starts, the inertia pulls me towards him.

“Hold on tight. I'm not gonna come for you if you drop off somewhere along the way,” he yells over the sound of the engine. There is no need for him to tell me that. Because the speed has me already gripping onto his coat for support. I haven't mentioned it, but this is my first time riding a bike. I'm scared as hell to fall off myself. 

He keeps speeding gradually. A few turns later, I find myself hugging him for support. I have been so focused on not falling off that I have not realised when I have done it. Realising it does not do me good either. I cannot back away and take the risk now either. The whole thing has been a bad idea. 

That is how we end up in this concerning position, my thighs against his thighs, my chest against his, his occasional breaths on my neck and his heartbeat against my ear. I try to pretend that the violent turns he is taking and the roaring of the engine have drowned out everything. But the reality is that I cannot keep my mind off the feeling of his warm body pressed against mine. 

His heartbeat is…steady, maybe a bit faster than normal people but surprisingly steady, if that makes any sense. I think it might be the reason that calms me down even through this turmoil.

I slide my hands along his waistband, acting as if I am trying to get a good grip, but I am actually trying to find the gun. I do not know what I will do if I get my hands on it. Maybe I will get rid of it somehow. Or maybe I will shoot a bullet through his heart with his own gun.

“It’s not there, Dulcinea.” His words over the sound of the engine and air make me freeze. “Bold of you to grope my waist for the very thing that had you scared shitless minutes ago. And you are doing that when our genitals are pressed together.”

I have never moved this fast in my life. My hands unwrap faster than the light, and I push myself backwards instantly. But as I am stuck between the gas tank and his hips, my hips do not move anywhere.

“Now what? Do you want to jump off the bike and die? If so, tell me, I will throw you off myself. If not, hold on tight and stop squirming like a gato miedoso.” With that, he presses on the gas, making me bump against his chest. I try to keep the distance, but it is impossible when I am placed in such a tight space.

A few seconds of silence pass by between us. Not exactly silence, the roaring engine underneath me and the sound of wind swishing past us are always there. Then he says, “You don't know my name, do you?”

He does not yell out the words, and I should not have heard them over the sounds around us. Yet I do. This is not even a question, and I lie to him, “I do.”

I feel him taking a long breath. “Say it.”

Nice. I have straight up got caught lying. Why have I lied about it in the first place? What do I tell him now? That “I'm sorry I have lied to you about knowing your name”? Or that “I'm sorry I've forgotten your name”? What kind of cringe excuses are these?

“Call me by my name, Tulip.” I feel his breath closer to my neck when he says that. The beating sound of his heart becomes more prominent in my ear. I feel my skin getting warm.

“Fine. I don't know it,” I decide to admit because that is the only logical thing to do. I add a complaint as well. “It's not like you have introduced yourself like a normal human being.”

He does not say anything else. I do not bother either. A few seconds later, the bike halts to pause. The roaring engine stops with a click of the key. I take that as a cue to detach myself from him. As I unwrap my hands from his torso and move away, he suddenly grabs the underside of the helmet and makes me look up at him in the eyes. His dark gaze catches mine as his half-covered face hovers over mine. 

“Hello, this is Alfie Ruiz, Noctire of the Nidhraxis. Nice to meet you.”