Pull the Trigger
February 14th, 2007.
The second letter arrived via mail on February 14th, 2007. Brian had grabbed it out of the mailbox and had given it to Sierra without a second glance. He was busy preparing a Valentine’s day dinner for her, and he wanted it to be special. He didn’t have time to dawdle around all day. As long as his beautiful wife was off her feet for the day, he would be content.
She thanked him quietly as the paper slipped between her fingers, her tired brown eyes drooping slightly. Brian chuckled and placed a delicate kiss to her forehead, his love for her flooding through in that single action. She sighed happily, her head dipping forward as a yawn wracked her body.
“Dinner will be ready in about an hour, baby. You gonna make it until then?” he asked her as he headed back towards the kitchen.
“I’ll try,” she admitted, her voice timid and guilty.
Brian couldn’t help but chuckle once more at that. Sierra had been working hard to finish an article about Bullet for My Valentine’s new c.d., but she had been stuck in a rut lately. He had tried to help her out the best he could, seeing how they were both friends with the band, but Sierra was extremely independent and didn’t take help until she asked for it. Brian loved that about her, but sometimes he wished she would just open up more and allow him to do certain things that she would usually do.
“Are you laughing at me, Gates?” she teased.
She only called him by his stage name if she was joking around, or if she was extremely pissed off. Due to the fact that she had abbreviated it to just ‘Gates’, he wiped the imaginary sweat off his brow and took it as the former.
“I may or may not be. Laughs happen. The world’s an imperfect place.”
“You did not just quote the Breakfast Club!” Sierra wheezed through her laughter.
“I may or may not have,” Brian said, a smile permanently etched across his lips.
Sierra fell quiet in the living room, so Brian assumed that she had fallen asleep. She did that all the time, and it worried him. She would be awake and happy one moment, but the next she’d be passed out in whatever position she had fallen in. Rubbing his tired eyes, he decided to check on his pasta to take his mind off of things.
That was a little known fact about Brian. He was a damn fine cook. He could make just about anything if he put the effort into it, and even he had to admit he looked like someone you would want to ravage on the kitchen floor when he was in an apron.
The spicy aroma of thyme hit Brian’s nostrils as he hesitantly lifted the stainless steel pot lid off of the pot that contained his mother’s special spaghetti sauce. He had to tweak the recipe because Sierra was a vegetarian, but it still smelled as tantalizing as it did when his mother made it for him. Taking the big wooden ladle from the drawer, he stirred the thick red sauce with an ease only a chef could possess, and set the pot lid down again. After checking his noodles, he realized that it was time to start the garlic bread.
From the living room came a loud crash, startling him. His head jerked up towards the archway leading into the living room, chocolate orbs wide with raw terror.
“Sierra?” he called out, hesitant at first.
When he got no answer, he dropped the heavy pan he had grabbed from beside the stove and booked it into the living room. Sierra was on the floor, her head cradled in her hands. Brian flung himself down beside her, pressing kisses all over her as he asked her what was wrong.
“N-nothing,” she choked out, still not looking at him.
Brian pushed the glass coffee table farther away from Sierra so she didn’t hit her head off of it, and scooted across the carpet to sit in front of her.
“Baby, did you fall off the couch?” he inquired, one dark eyebrow raised in confusion.
“Yes.” she breathed out, her voice no more than a whisper.
“Why? Did you fall asleep?”
Sierra didn’t say anything to that, just pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes. With horror, Brian realized that she was crying.
“Sierra, what the fuck happened? You’re scaring me, baby. Tell me what I can do to make this all better,” he begged her.
He absolutely hated it when she cried. It felt like something was ripping his most important organ out of his chest with a vice, squeezing it all the while. Whenever she got upset, no matter how big or small the issue, he always felt so guilty. He didn’t feel like he was being a man because she was unhappy.
Sierra again was mute, quite sobs now bubbling up from her throat and escaping her pink lips. Brian groaned, placing his back firmly against the couch as he pulled her into his arms. He couldn’t help how his heart thudded erratically as her small body met his larger one, or how the smell of her soap drove him mad. He knew he shouldn’t focus on those things right now, but she was so bloody perfect that it consumed his thoughts.
They sat there for nearly ten minutes, Sierra crying and Brian just studying her as she curled up in his arms. Neither of them dared to move or even breath to loud, for fear of startling the other. Brian didn’t mind sitting here with his girl in his arms, but Sierra minded it very much. She hated that she was upset, and he could tell that.
Finally, after her sobs diminished and the river that was her tears trickled into a few drops here and there, Sierra lifted her head and spoke. Brian kept his eyes on her, drinking in her every word.
“I’m sorry about that. I guess…I guess I just had a nightmare when I fell asleep and it startled me,” she whispered.
Something about her confession was off. Brian’s eyes caught hers but she didn’t back down, even when his narrowed in scrutiny. He studied her face for a few more minutes before deciding himself foolish and let it go.
“You sure baby? Anything you want to talk about?” he prodded.
Sierra bit her plump bottom lip as she watched the hope come onto his face. She shut way too many things away from him, and he was hoping that she would share something with him, just this once.
“It’s probably nothing,” she started, twirling her fingers absentmindedly. “But I’ve been having this dream lately where this guy keeps following me. I never see his face, but it’s always the same.”
“Sierra, nobody’s after you! Next time you have one of these dreams, you just wake up that sexy muscular man you sleep beside every night and he’ll make you feel better,” Brian teased, his eyes sparkling.
“And how exactly will he make me feel…better?” she inquired, still biting on her bottom lip.
Brian found the motion absolutely tantalizing, despite the fact that they were both sitting on the floor like a bunch of buffoons. A sexy smirk weaseled its way onto his thin lips, a smirk he felt was his trademark. Sierra grinned to match his, her arms snuggling around his waist.
“I think I can think of a few ways, Mrs. Haner,” he said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Well show me, Mr. Haner.”
Brian didn’t need to be told twice. Hoisting his wife up around the middle and making sure her legs were wrapped around his waist, he walked into the kitchen and shut off the pasta. Instead of making their way to the bedroom, Brian pushed all of his hard work off the table and onto the floor. Sierra giggled as his warm breath cascaded down her cheeks, bringing forth a rouge that only he could evoke. Their lips met with a firm passion that they had yet to grow accustom to, Brian’s body warm and demanding on hers. The kiss was fiery and heated, both of them moaning and panting for breath within minutes.
“Happy fucking Valentine’s day, beautiful.” Brian murmured against her neck.
Her reply was a loud, torturous moan as Brian claimed a soft area of flesh, his mouth sucking and working wonders on her body. He could feel her shuddering underneath him, which was making him go insane. His lips returned to hers, pressing down, hungry and feverish. Sierra had enough with the clothes, and reached for Brian’s black v-neck. It came away like a second skin, the heat in the kitchen making Brian sweat like crazy. Heat and warmth pooled between Sierra’s legs and she ran her hands up and down the carefully sculpted body of her husband, the natural sweat making his tan body glisten. Fuck, he wanted her badly, and he could tell she wanted the same. Growling, Brian ripped her white shirt down the front and buried his face between her unsecured breasts, licking at the skin.
“Mm, fuck Bri! Happy Valentine’s day baby. Now make love to me.”
As they proceeded to fuck on the table, a little eggshell blue envelope lay half under the couch, already opened, it’s contents spilled out for the recipient to see.
She thanked him quietly as the paper slipped between her fingers, her tired brown eyes drooping slightly. Brian chuckled and placed a delicate kiss to her forehead, his love for her flooding through in that single action. She sighed happily, her head dipping forward as a yawn wracked her body.
“Dinner will be ready in about an hour, baby. You gonna make it until then?” he asked her as he headed back towards the kitchen.
“I’ll try,” she admitted, her voice timid and guilty.
Brian couldn’t help but chuckle once more at that. Sierra had been working hard to finish an article about Bullet for My Valentine’s new c.d., but she had been stuck in a rut lately. He had tried to help her out the best he could, seeing how they were both friends with the band, but Sierra was extremely independent and didn’t take help until she asked for it. Brian loved that about her, but sometimes he wished she would just open up more and allow him to do certain things that she would usually do.
“Are you laughing at me, Gates?” she teased.
She only called him by his stage name if she was joking around, or if she was extremely pissed off. Due to the fact that she had abbreviated it to just ‘Gates’, he wiped the imaginary sweat off his brow and took it as the former.
“I may or may not be. Laughs happen. The world’s an imperfect place.”
“You did not just quote the Breakfast Club!” Sierra wheezed through her laughter.
“I may or may not have,” Brian said, a smile permanently etched across his lips.
Sierra fell quiet in the living room, so Brian assumed that she had fallen asleep. She did that all the time, and it worried him. She would be awake and happy one moment, but the next she’d be passed out in whatever position she had fallen in. Rubbing his tired eyes, he decided to check on his pasta to take his mind off of things.
That was a little known fact about Brian. He was a damn fine cook. He could make just about anything if he put the effort into it, and even he had to admit he looked like someone you would want to ravage on the kitchen floor when he was in an apron.
The spicy aroma of thyme hit Brian’s nostrils as he hesitantly lifted the stainless steel pot lid off of the pot that contained his mother’s special spaghetti sauce. He had to tweak the recipe because Sierra was a vegetarian, but it still smelled as tantalizing as it did when his mother made it for him. Taking the big wooden ladle from the drawer, he stirred the thick red sauce with an ease only a chef could possess, and set the pot lid down again. After checking his noodles, he realized that it was time to start the garlic bread.
From the living room came a loud crash, startling him. His head jerked up towards the archway leading into the living room, chocolate orbs wide with raw terror.
“Sierra?” he called out, hesitant at first.
When he got no answer, he dropped the heavy pan he had grabbed from beside the stove and booked it into the living room. Sierra was on the floor, her head cradled in her hands. Brian flung himself down beside her, pressing kisses all over her as he asked her what was wrong.
“N-nothing,” she choked out, still not looking at him.
Brian pushed the glass coffee table farther away from Sierra so she didn’t hit her head off of it, and scooted across the carpet to sit in front of her.
“Baby, did you fall off the couch?” he inquired, one dark eyebrow raised in confusion.
“Yes.” she breathed out, her voice no more than a whisper.
“Why? Did you fall asleep?”
Sierra didn’t say anything to that, just pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes. With horror, Brian realized that she was crying.
“Sierra, what the fuck happened? You’re scaring me, baby. Tell me what I can do to make this all better,” he begged her.
He absolutely hated it when she cried. It felt like something was ripping his most important organ out of his chest with a vice, squeezing it all the while. Whenever she got upset, no matter how big or small the issue, he always felt so guilty. He didn’t feel like he was being a man because she was unhappy.
Sierra again was mute, quite sobs now bubbling up from her throat and escaping her pink lips. Brian groaned, placing his back firmly against the couch as he pulled her into his arms. He couldn’t help how his heart thudded erratically as her small body met his larger one, or how the smell of her soap drove him mad. He knew he shouldn’t focus on those things right now, but she was so bloody perfect that it consumed his thoughts.
They sat there for nearly ten minutes, Sierra crying and Brian just studying her as she curled up in his arms. Neither of them dared to move or even breath to loud, for fear of startling the other. Brian didn’t mind sitting here with his girl in his arms, but Sierra minded it very much. She hated that she was upset, and he could tell that.
Finally, after her sobs diminished and the river that was her tears trickled into a few drops here and there, Sierra lifted her head and spoke. Brian kept his eyes on her, drinking in her every word.
“I’m sorry about that. I guess…I guess I just had a nightmare when I fell asleep and it startled me,” she whispered.
Something about her confession was off. Brian’s eyes caught hers but she didn’t back down, even when his narrowed in scrutiny. He studied her face for a few more minutes before deciding himself foolish and let it go.
“You sure baby? Anything you want to talk about?” he prodded.
Sierra bit her plump bottom lip as she watched the hope come onto his face. She shut way too many things away from him, and he was hoping that she would share something with him, just this once.
“It’s probably nothing,” she started, twirling her fingers absentmindedly. “But I’ve been having this dream lately where this guy keeps following me. I never see his face, but it’s always the same.”
“Sierra, nobody’s after you! Next time you have one of these dreams, you just wake up that sexy muscular man you sleep beside every night and he’ll make you feel better,” Brian teased, his eyes sparkling.
“And how exactly will he make me feel…better?” she inquired, still biting on her bottom lip.
Brian found the motion absolutely tantalizing, despite the fact that they were both sitting on the floor like a bunch of buffoons. A sexy smirk weaseled its way onto his thin lips, a smirk he felt was his trademark. Sierra grinned to match his, her arms snuggling around his waist.
“I think I can think of a few ways, Mrs. Haner,” he said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Well show me, Mr. Haner.”
Brian didn’t need to be told twice. Hoisting his wife up around the middle and making sure her legs were wrapped around his waist, he walked into the kitchen and shut off the pasta. Instead of making their way to the bedroom, Brian pushed all of his hard work off the table and onto the floor. Sierra giggled as his warm breath cascaded down her cheeks, bringing forth a rouge that only he could evoke. Their lips met with a firm passion that they had yet to grow accustom to, Brian’s body warm and demanding on hers. The kiss was fiery and heated, both of them moaning and panting for breath within minutes.
“Happy fucking Valentine’s day, beautiful.” Brian murmured against her neck.
Her reply was a loud, torturous moan as Brian claimed a soft area of flesh, his mouth sucking and working wonders on her body. He could feel her shuddering underneath him, which was making him go insane. His lips returned to hers, pressing down, hungry and feverish. Sierra had enough with the clothes, and reached for Brian’s black v-neck. It came away like a second skin, the heat in the kitchen making Brian sweat like crazy. Heat and warmth pooled between Sierra’s legs and she ran her hands up and down the carefully sculpted body of her husband, the natural sweat making his tan body glisten. Fuck, he wanted her badly, and he could tell she wanted the same. Growling, Brian ripped her white shirt down the front and buried his face between her unsecured breasts, licking at the skin.
“Mm, fuck Bri! Happy Valentine’s day baby. Now make love to me.”
As they proceeded to fuck on the table, a little eggshell blue envelope lay half under the couch, already opened, it’s contents spilled out for the recipient to see.
♠ ♠ ♠
<3