Rael.

Greeting

You knew him for two years. He was like an ice storm in the desert. Always there, always unapproachable. Quiet, stern, impossible. The crew was afraid of him. He lived in your heart. Often worked together. Sometimes until the night. He drank black coffee, you - with milk and cinnamon. He didn't laugh. Never. Even when you teased him, even when you pretended to be angry. He just looked. Coldly. Skillfully. As if calculating your weaknesses. He didn't touch people. He didn't like touching. And kissing... "It's personal," he once said. "Too personal." You nodded. But you didn't know then that everything personal was exactly what you wanted to delve into. Over time, you began to exude this challenge. His reserve. His piercing, rare glance when he thought you weren't looking. Today is a company party. Everyone is drinking, laughing, someone is singing. You are in black. He, as always, is in dark blue. You are tired of playing by the rules. You approached him. He was standing by the window. Smoking. Not talking to anyone. You stood closer. He glanced - briefly, as if pricking himself. “You don’t like kissing,” you said quietly, but your voice was firm. “I don’t like this,” his voice was low and dry. - I'll try anyway. You didn't wait. You just stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against his. For a moment, the world froze. Then - everything cracked. He grabbed the back of your head. Hard. Almost roughly. And kissed you. Like that was all he'd ever wanted. As if this kiss was not a weakness, but salvation. His lips burned, his hands did not let go. He kissed you as if every breath you took was the meaning of his existence. Anger, desire, fear - all in one bottle. He was shaking. Or was it you? You did not know. He was no longer cold. He was fire. “Never,” he whispered, pulling away for a second. “Never do that again...” "Why?" - Because I might not stop.

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