Gilbert leant into the worn leather of Roderich's favourite button-back chair, pouring himself a glass of Kirsch from a decanter placed on a nearby corner table. He needed time to himself, to get away and think, hopefully even clear his head somewhat. It was quiet and still, peaceful - Exactly what he needed. But despite the sense of calm Gilbert always found in Roderich's house, it could not seem to ease his thoughts from travelling to _______. He wanted so desperately to forget what had happened between them the last week, but he remained a prisoner to images of her, feeling himself slowly become more undone each thought of her, the tortuous visions of her naked body running out of control in his mind.
It was not just the exchanges they shared throughout their week together; it was more than that, so much more. It was in every way how she had said his name. The stunning way she felt under his touch. How she could look at him in a way no women had ever looked at him before, how she was unlike any other woman before. _______ had wanted more of him in any way he could give her. And he ceded to her every wish.
It was unlike him, completely, ridiculously out of character. He was Gilbert Beilschmidt - other men envied his life and how he could have any woman he wanted. Everything, from his expression, bearing and garments announced to the world that he knew he was attractive and intelligent. He knew this fully well, and his confidence in himself was just as appealing to the opposite sex.
So why was it when she had grabbed him, begging him with lust-clouded eyes, pleading desire for more of what he was willing to give to her that he so easily yielded to her in a moment of passion? Relinquishing every part of his deepest desire for her. He had let her know it, showing her how he longed to be with her. He had felt helpless to his own fascination with her - It terrified him as well as made him feel oddly, happy. The past week had been explosive between them. Each time felt as if it were the first time and was going to be the last of their lives.
Mein Gott, he thought to himself, a sense of mortification sweeping over him, if Francis and Anton could see the 'awesome' me now...
If that wasn't enough that he didn't know himself at this moment, the [favourite] smell of [h/c] tresses and her skin had been lingering on him for hours, filling his senses with her. It drove him crazy and he could not bring himself to wash it off.
He had thought once he bedded her it would cure his desire for her. In any of situation, it had the indented effect. This time, however, it just seemed to have made everything worse. He could see her under his naked body so vividly now. Whereas before, it was a mere imagined thought. Now, his mind was consumed with memories of her and her body and the sound of her voice crying out to him in a moment of pleasure. He still tasted her breath on his, on his lips. Envisioning the way she looked as he caressed her sweat-beaded skin with the tips of his fingers.
God when was it going to end? She was lingering in his mind, on his clothes, his body, and now . . . in his heart.
Gilbert rose quickly, moving over to where he knew Roderich kept his more expensive drinks. Whenever he was anxious or unsure of himself he had a habit of getting oddly destructive, and with a desire to drink some strong alcohol, he found himself throwing back large gulps of expensive drink before he'd even read the label. In all honesty, Gilbert had no desire to drink any of the hoity-toity overpriced swill, but desperate times called for desperate measures...
Of course, even someone as experience with drinking couldn't stand this practice of binge-drinking for long. Eventually, Gilbert slumped back down in the chair, his once Kirsch-filled glass now a concoction of six different liquors. He was going to rid his mind of her tonight. At least that was what he aimed for.
Roderich opened the door and walked to his desk. Going through his stack of letters was not one of his favourite things to do, especially when he had only recently had his favourite piano re-tuned and was aching to play it. He set aside all the invitations to the balls and parties to go through with his advisor at a later date. As he gazed at the pile, he smiled at the thought of his wife, Elizaveta. Now he had someone he held dear, he could share his passion for the piano with another.
"Looking particularly love-struck today Roderich" Gilbert laughed wryly against the rim of his glass, a small 'kesesese' sound reverberating about the room.
Roderich whipped his head around in the direction the voice was coming from. Seeing the Prussian-born man slouched down in the chair, downing a glass of something no doubt alcoholic was not easy for him. It brought to mind many bad memories. He recognized Gilbert's tone, and it was like a visit from an old acquaintance he had hoped to not see again.
"How long, pray tell, have you been here for?" Roderich asked.
"I needed somewhere quiet to think - Why, do you not wish for me to be here?"
Roderich stared at him a moment, brows furrowing slightly, "It would be impolite for me to protest to you being here, and a very un-Austrian thing to do." he replied.
"That didn't answer my question."
"-Day... or night you are always welcome in my home." At this point Roderich was not sure if he wanted to ask Gilbert what was so wrong that he hiding in his house, but found himself oddly curious despite himself, "Do you wish to talk?"
"I think I have it handled now. She is gone." Gilbert's tone was low, hissing with anger.
Roderich took the seat opposite the Prussian. "Who is gone?"
"The böse Frau that has been haunting my thoughts. She needed to be tamed." He held his empty glass aloft, observing how the crystal cut glass glimmered in the dim light. "And now she is."
"What woman are you talking about? Is she someone I'm acquainted with?" Roderich asked, growing ever more concerned as Gilbert spoke.
Rising from his seat, Gilbert moved over to pour another glass of Kirsch. "It doesn't matter now, I took care of it." He poured a fresh drink all the way to the rim of his glass and then over the sides, splashing it over the antique Austrian mahogany corner table
Roderich watched him as he sluggishly trailed back to the chair and slouch down back into it. He was just about to speak his reservations about Gilbert continuing what was apparent to him had already been a rather heavy drinking session, that was, until Elizaveta came dashing into the room.
"Roderich, drágám, you're finally home," her voice full of excitement. She embraced Roderich tightly.
He held her close to him, burying his nose in her neck. Then he whispered, "Words cannot convey how much I have missed you, meine schöne edelweiss."
Elizaveta pulled back from him, smiling gentle. Whispering back she said, "Perhaps you will show me then."
He kissed her gently.
"-How heart-warming." Gilbert's sarcastic tone interjected, indicated his displeasure of them.
Elizaveta jumped with surprise. "I did not know you were here Gilbert. You are to stay for dinner, igen?" The smile he was met with was of equal warmth to that of Roderich. And if one was to look closer at the Hungarian woman, they would perhaps notice a slight pink blush dusting her cheeks.
Roderich whispered something in her ear and her gaze moved to Gilbert. She then left the room.
The Austrian man's glare Gilbert was subsequently met with was almost fierce. "Do not ever speak to my wife in that manner."
"So, why is it that you love her Roderich? She is a very beautiful woman, ja, but what is it really about her that made you want to throw your life away? - Kesesesesese."
Roderich stared at him. He refused to allow Gilbert to try and get a rise out of him. They were no longer children, he would not let Gilbert's malevolent slights effect like they once had. "I did it because I love her. She is everything to me Gilbert - Something someone as ego-centric as yourself might have trouble comprehending. Perhaps, one day, you will understand it yourself."
"You seem to be very good at avoiding answering my questions today Roderich. Now that Elizaveta has matured - considerably, she is quite the charming woman. And well," Gilbert raised his heavy lidded gaze and met Roderich's and said, "I certainly know how sweet her lips taste."
Roderich clenched his fists at his sides. He knew he was losing control of himself, and no longer able to rein in his anger he found himself striding over to Gilbert, snatching the drink from his hand. He smashed the half-full glass into the fireplace. "--Get the hell out!"
Gilbert began to chuckle. He wanted Roderich to hit him. "Does that bother you to know I remember that your wife's lips taste like? She is so soft and sweet, like honey." His smirk was nearly unbearable, "Do you taste like that too?"
Chuckling again and he continued. "I have to confess - I'm wondering if the rest of Elizaveta's body tastes of-"
Roderich's hands clenched tightly around Gilbert's neck. The sound of the legs from the chair splitting echoed throughout the room.
Gilbert offered no resistance to Roderich's assault on him. In fact, he welcomed it. He wanted to be unconscious. His only hope was that Roderich would deliver and rescue him from his thoughts of _______. He wanted him to completely knock out every image, every memory of her [favourite] scent, the sound of her voice ringing in his ears, but most of all, the feeling of loss without her in his arms.
Roderich by nature was not a violent man, but he could not stop himself punching Gilbert hard the first two times. Then, grabbing him with both hands by his shirt, shaking him with brutal force he roared, "Why are you doing this?"
"Hit me again Roderich!" He spat, "-Show me how much you hate me. Harder this time -" Gilbert said with short breaths. He could taste the blood from his lip. But it wasn't enough. "Hit me again, verdammt!"