I really wish that I could post in this journal without any drama. I really do.
Piotr kissed me today.
He kissed me. What. The fuck? He's the only man I trust in this damn house and he kisses me.
Okay, from the top:
We were wrestling in the hall outside his door. (He pulled my hair, don't ask) He's letting me win and I get him in a butterfly pin. By this point, I'm all, "OK RO OK!" Then he flips me over. All 275lbs of him is pinning me to the floor. It's been a long time since I've had that type of masculine weight on me, mind you. So I freeze. Then Piotr smiles, this horribly seductive smile and says something in Russian.
Um, yeah. Russian's hot. I didn't know this until now, but yeah. It's hot.
Anyway, Scott and Jean walk by and Scott flips out. I'm talking, "OhmyGodwhatthefuckareyoudoing?!"-style. Jean just stands there, trying not to giggle and Piotr's laying there between my legs.
"She thought she was stronger than me," Piotr almost growls. "I had to prove her the wiser." In a knee-jerk reaction, I smile the biggest, cheesiest smile I can to relieve the tension.
"I let him win," I say, and knee him in the ribs. Jean just looks at us and Scott tries not to.
"Um, whatever, just-" Scott looks at us nesitantly and walks away. Jean tosses a glance over her shoulder as she leaves.
So I'm like, whatever, right? Piotr laughs and gets off of me, and I start to head towards my room. Before I can take a step, I'm in his arms and his face is in mine. His beautiful, sharp-angled blue eyed face is in mine. Then, before I can say anything witty to break the tension, he kisses me! Soft yet firm and completely in control, he kisses me.
So I'm like, "wtf??" at first, right? But then I reallize that I've never felt safer in a man's arms before, never. Well, not since Remy, but that's a different story. His big hands are holding my back, in my hair, holding me where he wants me as he kisses me senseless. So I stop resisting. And he stops kissing. He looks at me, eyes wide with shock and horror. He mumbles some type of appology before darting in his room and slamming the door.
So I'm standing there like a dickhead, competely flustered and turned on by the whole thing and here comes the Wolverine. Right on schedule.
"Damn, Ro." He snickers, puffing on a cigar. "I don't know what it is you got, but if it can turn a gay man straight, it must be somethin' else."
"Don't be mad cuz you didn't get me first, asshole." I snap, resting my hands on my hips. He just smirks and puffs on his cigar, totally unaffected by my rage and pissing me off because of it.
"I'm not mad, darlin," he says, walking by me, eyeing me like a rack of lamb. "Just patient." And walks away!
Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?! Is he implying that I'm the whore of the mansion?? If that's the case, then he must conveniently forget what little miss perfect has been up to.
I want to go the fuck home. Back to New Orleans where there was one man for me. One job, one purpose, one goal. This is bull shit. I don't mind fighting for the cause or whatever, but I didn't sign on for this Dawson's Creek bullshit.
As for Piotr? He's got a lot of things he needs to figure out, this I'm sure of. I just hope we can still be friends when all is said and done.