*March 2031, Los Angeles.*
I found myself in a Los Angeles hotel room, a fleeting sanctuary where I could afford to forget my daily life, if only for a few hours.
She was stunning, her blonde hair cascading in waves down her shoulders. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race. Her body, slender and graceful, was draped in a black dress that accentuated her perfect curves. She had an innocent air about her, yet she was a real slut... Or maybe not.
I pulled her close, my lips seeking hers in a passionate kiss. Our tongues intertwined, exploring every corner of each other's mouths with an insatiable hunger. Her hands slipped under my shirt, caressing my bare skin with a delicacy that sent shivers down my spine.
"You're beautiful," I murmured, my gray eyes locked on hers.
*'8/10,'* I thought inwardly.
She smiled, a mischievous grin that told me she shared my desire. "And I want you," she said in a sultry voice.
Our kisses intensified, our tongues dancing together. I felt her body press against mine, her breasts against my chest, her hips grinding against my crotch. I lifted her dress, revealing her long, slender legs, and let myself caress, touch, and desire her.
She moaned, her eyes closed, reveling in my touch.
"Keep going, don't stop."
I laid her on the bed, her blonde hair spreading across the pillow like a golden cascade. I leaned over her, my lips trailing down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses on her soft skin. My hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every hollow, every place that made her moan with pleasure.
I undressed, letting my clothes fall to the floor. She smiled, a satisfied grin, and pulled me toward her. My hands caressed her thighs, her hips, her ass, making her moan with pleasure.
Her legs opened to welcome me. I entered her warm, wet body, feeling her heat envelop me, tighten around me, desire me. Our bodies collided, our kisses intensified, our moans merged into a symphony of pleasure.
I took her passionately, my movements quickening, my hands caressing her body, her breasts, her ass. She moaned, her eyes opening again, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. Our kisses were fiercer.
Yet the creaking of the bed was about the only thing I paid attention to. The rest was just... background noise. The rhythm. The sweat. The moans, which, admittedly, were pretty good. Chloé was a performer, I'll give her that.
*'I wonder what her body count is? 20, 30...?'*
Her blue eyes, usually sharp and confident behind her glasses, were half-closed, clouded with pleasure. Her skin, tanned as always, glistened under the dim light of the bedside lamp.
Our bodies were now entwined, damp and exhausted. Her warm breath tickled my neck. The room smelled of sex, sweat, and a hint of desperation.
...
The hotel room was bathed in a soft glow, filtered through the half-drawn curtains, revealing the city's neon lights. The air was heavy with a familiar moisture, a mix of sweat and expensive perfume.
She lay on the bed, naked, her blonde hair tangled on the crumpled pillow. Her skin glistened under the soft light of the bedside lamp. A stunning woman, with curves in all the right places, a body honed by hours of exercise and a strict diet. Her eyes, still clouded with pleasure.
I slowly rose from the bed, my slender frame contrasting with her athletic build. A hand absently ran through my damp black hair as I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my hips.
"You always do this, Kaiser," she murmured.
I raised an eyebrow without turning around, busy cracking my knuckles.
"Do what?"
"Leave. Like it doesn't matter."
I let out a light laugh, more of an amused breath than anything else. I turned my head toward her. She was sitting now, legs crossed beneath her, an unreadable expression on her face.
"Does it matter to you?"
She bit her lip, hesitant. We'd been through med school together, she and I. Years of sharing the same hospital corridors, the same sleepless nights, the same cold corpses under the surgical lights. We knew each other too well. Too long.
"I don't know... Do you love me?"
I stared at her. Her expression was all too familiar. How many times had we fucked? A dozen? And now she wanted me to make the first move. The female prerogative. Unfortunately for her.
I picked up my phone from the bedside table, the screen briefly lighting up, displaying a few missed call notifications that I glanced at without really reading.
I gently caressed a stray lock of hair, pushing it behind her ear.
"Have I ever lied to you?" She smiled, one of those smiles between melancholy and amusement.
"No…"
Her arm reached out to me, her fingers brushing my wrist, an attempt to entwine. I let her hand on my skin for a few seconds before gently pushing it away. It wasn't a breakup, not a violent rejection, just a natural, mechanical movement. She didn't seem upset. She knew how I was. Always distant, always empty and lifeless.
Chloé didn't say a word. She knew I was incapable of loving her the way she deserved.
And yet, she stayed. She always came back. That was the craziest part. Women loved weird guys. Guys who made them suffer. Guys who couldn't commit. Guys like me.
I sighed and stretched before giving her one last look.
"Even if there's no love, you're still important to me. Sleep well." I kissed her on the forehead.
My voice was flat, without warmth, just an empty phrase tossed into the air. Then, without waiting for a response, I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and headed to the bathroom. I needed a shower.
I closed the door behind me and turned on the shower. The hot water cascaded over my skin, washing away the sweat and remnants of the night. I closed my eyes and let the sound of the water lull me.
The steam slowly rose from the hot water, fogging the bathroom mirror. I sat on the edge of the tub, a cigarette between my fingers, watching the ash accumulate on the edge of the sink.
"To think I'm already 25. I wonder what Mom thinks of me up there..." I exhaled a puff, having just showered and feeling rather cold when my phone started vibrating.
I looked at it, stunned, then the call ended.
"Why is she calling me at 8 PM?"
I absentmindedly picked up the phone.
[Lisa: 37 missed calls]
I clicked the call and as I closed the screen, she called again. And finally, I answered.
I picked up without saying a word.
[Fucking hell, Kaiser!]
Lisa's voice cracked in my ear like a slap. Was she angry? No, more like nervous.
"You're going to stop calling me, okay?!"
I let a few seconds pass, took a long drag of nicotine, slowly exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling.
"What's wrong?"
Silence. Just her quick, unstable breathing on the other end. Then she finally blurted out:
[I'm pregnant...]
I tapped my cigarette into the ashtray on the edge of the sink.
"Congratulations."
Silence.
[Fucking hell, Kaiser!] she choked. [Are you fucking kidding me?!]
I raised an eyebrow, resting my elbow on my knee.
[I don't see how this concerns me.]
The silence stretched, but this time, it wasn't an empty silence. It was heavy, weighing, laden with expectation. Behind the line, I could hear her trembling breath, as if she were waiting for a response, a word, a damn sign that it mattered to me. Maybe she was seeking comfort, or maybe she hoped that, for once, I'd take charge.
I took another drag, the bitter taste of tobacco filling my mouth.
[Why aren't you saying anything?]
Lisa's voice was broken. A mix of rage and despair.
"It's your choice."
[Fucking hell, but you—!]
She screamed into the phone, her anger finally exploding.
[You're the father, damn it!]
"That is indeed probable."
[...]
"And if it is, you should get an abortion."
I heard her inhale sharply, then... nothing. Not a word. Just background noise, short breath, the rustle of fabric, then... a sob. Soft. Discrete. But there.
I didn't say anything. I had nothing to say.
Then a sound, another presence behind her. A male voice, deep and slightly concerned.
[What's wrong, Lisa?]
[Nothing!]
Her voice was hurried, too hasty to be credible.
"Stop crying, Lisa."
[*muffled sob*...]
"You see you're worrying your husband."
[...]
I dropped my cigarette into the sink, watching the ember extinguish under a stream of water.
"I'll send you an obstetrician's number. He's pretty good."
[...]
"Stay fit. And goodnight."
I let a moment pass, then added.
"Say hi to your husband for me."
I didn't wait for her to respond. I hung up in the middle of her ragged breath.
The silence returned. I slumped against the wall, my gaze lost in the dark night of Los Angeles below. The moon shone above the skyscrapers, indifferent to all this mess.
You're probably thinking I'm an asshole. A son of a bitch. An irresponsible jerk.
First, don't insult my mother.
Second, I'm just a Hardy Boy dealing with supernatural creatures, I don't have time to get attached.
Speaking of those bastards, I saw a message.
[Carter: Meet at HQ, Lucifer's receptacle has been spotted!]
"Well... It's time for the Hardy Boys to take action."
I stepped out of the bathroom naked, Chloé still asleep, and stood on the balcony.
"Behälter."
A shiver ran through my body. A blackish miasma escaped from my skin, wrapping around me like bandages. These shrouds of shadow snaked with sinister elegance, gradually burying my features beneath a moving, dark fabric. My face disappeared behind these blackish bandages, leaving only a greenish glow where my eyes should be.
The bandages thickened, weaving into a long, tattered redingote of deep black streaked with violet reflections. A top hat materialized, and in my right hand, an obsidian cane.
*Behälter: The Oldest Dream*
______
[ Hey, it's Abyss999. This is my second book. It starts off slow but will gradually build in intensity. It's a book heavily focused on romance and the supernatural. So don't hesitate to comment !]