Mind Games

Title: Mind Games
Author: Shona aka Mara
Rating: R ('cause I chickened out of the NC-17...)
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, I'm just playing here!
Beta: The wonderful wenchpixie who put aside her dislike of Bela to take a look at this!
Warnings: dub-con in a way, het. (I love how this fandom uses 'het' as a warning!)
Summary: Her cabin should be safe, but he's here and he's breaking through...
Pairing: would kinda spoil the suspense, such as it is...
Author's notes: Spoil me and I will end you. Please? Just don't spoil.

She was being stalked. No, that wasn't quite right - hunted was the word. Her apartment was no longer a safe haven, but the cabin should have been. The deeds were under a pseudonym – and not an all-too-postmodernly ironic one either – and she'd carefully avoided the area since she'd gotten into this whole business.

The cabin was secure. She was sure of it. But now she was being tracked through the rooms by someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Bela ran barefoot across the upstairs landing and reached the master bedroom just as the lights went off. He'd found the fuse box. That meant she had time to barricade the door and cover the windows. Sure, she'd be trapped in the one room, but he wouldn't be able to get in – that much she was sure of.

The lock turned and she rested her forehead on the door, letting her breathing return to normal. She couldn't hear movement from outside, but she knew that didn't mean much, not with him.

And then the floorboard creaked.

Behind her.

---

She tenses involuntarily, cursing herself as she does, knowing that she's given herself away. Before she can even think about turning he's behind her, holding her against the door. The heat from his body radiates through her and makes her heart skip a beat.

He has her pinned, and his breath tickles her neck, and she's defenceless.

Bela runs through her options quickly. She's no match for his physically so she'll have to once again rely in her wits to. Something she was almost positive she had the upper hand in.

Speaking of upper hands, his slowly gathers her hair from where it falls over shoulders. He gently tucks it over to one side, exposing her neck. His breathing quickens and she expects to feel his teeth on her shoulder but instead she feels his fingertips trace the curve of her neck.

Bela shivers – half fear, half anticipation – and arches her neck unconsciously into the touch. He's so close that she can feel his smirk even though she can't see it.

"…" She ties to speak, to gain control, but has to swallow before her voice comes. She feels his grin widen and he steps impossibly closer.
"Clever boy," she finally manages to say. "So now you've got me here, let me guess, you…"

His hand stops on her shoulder and then limber fingers slide the strap of her silk slip slowly down over her bicep.

"You're not in control here." His voice is low, almost a whisper. The part of her brain that still believes she has a chance at changing the outcome wants to call it guttural, but the rest of her is focused on how that deep rumble reverberates through her body, making every nerve ending sit up and beg.

Her breath hitches once more as his calloused fingertips stroke lightly down her bare arm and across to her waist. His dextrous hands slide over the slippery fabric before come gently to rest atop her hips.

And still she hasn't moved.

"What is it you want?" Her voice is small and for a moment Bela is once again Isabel, the scared three year old who ran from the burning building leaving the stranger with the funny eyes in there with Mummy and Lucy.

But that's taboo and the moment her thoughts drift to that memory she finds the strength of will to retaliate. To be Bela again.

"Didn't think you had it in you," she tries again. "But then, maybe you're not acting alone here. Maybe someone else came up with the plan and you're just playing your part. Just like always."

His hand moves. Fingers trail lightly up her side and she realises once more just how vulnerable a position she's in. He's not hurting her, but he is so close that the line between him and her is fast becoming blurred.

Bela feels her whole body flush at that thought and knows that he can feel it too.

He has to know the effect he's having on her. He can't not know, standing so close, becoming almost part of her. Especially when her mind finally gives up any pretence of control over her body and she leans back into his heat.

Bela feels him draw in a sharp – almost shuddering – breath and for a brief moment she knows she's not alone in feeling the possibilities here.

"This isn’t a game." His lips brush against her ear as he murmurs; but Bela is too busy focusing on his hand which has trailed down the outside of her right thigh and is slowly pushing the hem of her oh-so-short slip up with his fingers tracing small circles across her exposed skin.

She gasps and he stops instantly, the silk pooling over his hand that is now barely touching her.

"It's not a game." He repeats in a whisper right behind her ear and as he does so his tongue darts out and laps the sensitive spot just there. Bela doesn't even try to stifle the moan. She knows he's right.

It stopped being a game the moment she leaned into him.

"I know." She doesn't whisper so much as breathe the words out and a moment later she feels herself being turned firmly but still so gently, and then his lips are on hers.

Not brutal. Not claiming her, not forcing anything. Gentle. Soft.

His hands are at the base of her back now, holding her close but not demanding, and she realises with a start that her own hands are free now to do what she wants.

She lifts them to cup the side of his face, draws him closer and for a while he accedes.

Then he draws back, breaking contact and she frowns. A minute ago he had seemed so into this, and then…

His eyes are closed and he's breathing deeply, for an instant she sees him as beautiful and then she remembers who he is. How this all started. And she pushes him away.

Or tries to.

As her hands connect with his chest his eyes flick open and she seems something like pain there. It startles her enough to stop her.
"I… I'm sorry." She shocks herself to realise she means it.

He looks at her for a moment before he steps back and turns away. He rubs his hand over the back of his neck in an oddly self-conscious way but all Bela is aware of is the chill and the acute sense of loss that fills her.

She watches him, sees more than she's ever seen in him, more than she ever thought possible and she feels tears prick at her eyes as she realises they're the same. Both of them have been playing people for so long and yet both of them are finding it impossible to play each other.

For the first time in a very long time, Bela lets the mask drop and the tears fall. She does it silently, it's not a cry for attention, it's not about wanting comfort. It's about being her again. For the first time in years, and she weeps for the interim.

Bela collects herself finally and takes a step to where he has stayed motionless, his back to her and his head down. As she ghosts her hand over his arm he jumps a little, startled, and as he turns she sees the telltale glisten in his eyes. She reaches for him and whispers against his lips.
"I'm sorry."

It's slow and sweet, not like any kiss Bela's ever known, and when she finally opens her eyes she realises they've crossed the room and he's lowering her gently to the bed. It's like a scene out of a trashy romance novel and she can't bite back the giggle quickly enough.

His head tilts to the side and a flicker of a frown appears before she reaches up to kiss him again – and to draw him down with her.

---

Afterwards they lie together in silence. Awake, but not talking. It hadn't been supposed to be like this. The plan had been to make it a game, to get it out of her system. For it to be angry, quick, intense. As Bela rests her head on his chest and drifts into a dreamless sleep, she realises that games aren't as fulfilling as the truth, and she really wants to share the truth with Dean. No matter what.