Dangerous Man

[Eternity]

Dangerous Man

He is amazing; a marvelous piece of artwork sculpted by erosion and not the creative hand of thy Lord. He was given birth by God, thy Lord, and twisted into what most would call a monster by the other creations near him. They shaped his slender form into one of rolling muscles, his satin-smooth brown skin toxic with scars. Lain over that brown coat of flesh is a web of tattoos, and a tale of danger from childhood on. He is amazing, and I cannot dare think of him being anything else.

His mind is a sweet mesh of breaks, cracks, and redemption. His dark brown eyes stared into mine, darkness peering into me like a black hole. It is with those eyes that he draws me in, sucks me up, makes me vulnerable. His dark hair is close to his head, wet curls that dance wildly in the most pitched shade of black. It appears elsewhere, beneath his lip and along his chin, dancing in well-shaven patterns along his stern jawline to his ear. There, at his ears, lay diamond studs. Behind his left ear is the tattoo of a heart with a stitch running an 'x' through it. Along the opposite side of his neck is a tattoo that reads "Death".

But shall I return to his mind. That mind that only I am brave enough to see into, via those dark portals. When he looks at me, he frames his face as to frighten me. He faces me as to scare me off, to tell me to run. But I stand, and I stare into him, through him, like his body of brass wound muscles and brown skin was made of glass, and his soul beneath was a brilliant beacon to me. I could see into him, see what had hurt him.

His name was Rafael, and he was half-Latino, half-black. Born and raised in the slums, sent to prison once for a sum of seven years. He was a killer, but not because he was some serial joy-killer. No, not at all, not my Rafael. Instead, he killed to protect his brothers, shooting down the driving car that raised a gun to meet him first. He killed the driver, and another. Fled, but was caught. My poor Rafael didn't run fast enough to escape.

Rafael steps closer to me, breaking me from my thoughts. His hand touches my face, that hand like a stone burner. His hands are broad, big, and can span across my face almost completely. His fingers are long, tawny, and callous. His nails are clean, but slightly grown out, not to a feminine state though. His hand- I can feel the lines, his fortune and fate tracing over the pores of my cheek. That hand turns me into his kitten, rubbing my face against his touch in need of more. My eyes close, and it is only then that I can pull my face from his touch.

He steps closer, his breath pouring down from his flared nostrils, grazing my chest- or what is bare of it- until the top of my top covers me from that cascade of his heaved breaths. Rafael wants to know what's wrong with me, and I want to know what is wrong with him. I propose we fix each other, but it's up to him if we do or do not.

A hand slides around my waist, that broad hand heating my very core. His fingers spread over my hip, pulling him into him. His chest and stomach are of stone; surely as the metaphor of brass coiled beneath his satin flesh. His face stared down at mine as I raise my eyes to meet him. His high and sturdy cheek-bones set off a gaunt face, his nose a little crooked. His lips are full, and the slight glisten of them tells me he has licked them- a nervous habit perhaps? But for him to even let me know, in the least, that I was making progress, was enough to make me pursue him til he was well in my graces.

His other arm wraps around me, like he was a composition of thick snakes, wrapping around me. The more space he covered of my body with his, the tighter he squeezed- the more impossible it was to escape. I felt my breath starting to grow heavier, because of the heat alone that his thick and tall body expelled. I can feel his heartbeat, a heavy hammer like that belonging to Thor himself swinging against his brick-walled chest.

Rafael speaks in a low voice, his voice carrying the tone of a bass singer. His chest rumbles, sending vibrations into me as if he were a brown tuning fork tight against me when he spoke.

"Do you know what I am?" He asks. I smile, because I have my own ideas that differ very greatly from his own. The man slides one hand up my back, into my hair. His fingers push along my neck, and slowly grasp a handful of hair. He pulled my hair just lightly enough to make me pull my head back. Tilting me back enough for him to stare down at me. And when he did, he came forward, raining his gaze unto mine before he kissed me.

Lips like lava, he melted into me. I couldn't tell where his lips began and where mine ended. His tongue was even more a lapping flame than his kissing, the spiraling ore of red hot mineral at the center of the earth's magnificence. My face was numb from that kiss, my lips turning hot from his own touch. His tongue tasted of fiery cinnamon and spice, that muscle leaving the flavor of his kiss faint on my taste buds when he retreated.

I had to breathe, because my weak knees were going to give if I didn't. But soon, he smiled, and leaned down, until his lips neared my ear.

"I am a very dangerous man." He whispered to me. And all I could muster up was a smile, my arms sliding up his chest and lacing around his neck.

"I know."

I lied. He was not, in my mind, dangerous. He had the capability all humans had, and yes, he had exploited it. But why? Because of what circumstances he had fallen into? Because of his bravery? Because of his mindset and mentality?

To me, he was not the epitome of danger; he was not some raging ex-convict hungry for violence and depravity. No.

He was the idol of fragility. He was a gentle giant buried beneath a series of set and taught habits of defense. If he were stripped of those, he would remain broken and wounded inside, because of regrets and mistakes. It was that, that depth. That soul. That look in those endless dark eyes that sucked me in... That look, and that being, through that glass man, that made me love him.

Because he is my own. My dangerous glass man.

~Arie J.~

[Rexar]

That was a miracle piece of art. You should be very proud.
The series of metaphors used in each paragraph are very well recorded as well as the use of words in each. I enjoyed reading that.

Well done.

[Eternity]

thank you.

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