Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction ❯ In Open Sight ❯ Chapter 1

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Author's note: This is my first posted fanfic. Contains Lemon .R&R, no flames please, but constructive criticism is welcome. I hope you enjoy and I hope to have the second chapter up soon.
***
She noted her quickened pulse as she viewed a tall, dark haired man passing in the opposite direction. He intrigued her but it wasn't his look. It was his aura. It was dark, and omnipresent, and familiar, though, she knew no one in japan. She pondered it for a while as she sipped her espresso. She always had an unusual relationship with strangers. No ever approached her to casually make small talk or really acknowledge her presence at all. Did she look that unapproachable? She didn't bite, she wasn't hideously deformed...though some may construe it that way. She, at last, settled on it being not her appearance but her aura. What did her aura feel like to others? Did they even notice such things? She theorized that her aura was powerfully independent, and; therefore, not conducive because humans like to be depended upon. Whoever the man exiting the restaurant was, his aura was vast and dominant and he probably wouldn't find her hypothetically independent aura offensive, but what did it matter? She wouldn't see him again. it was just a chance meeting, on an errand to pass the time, until she could meet with someone named Amon.
***
The clack of the train against tracks pulled her back to the present. She smiled to herself, and wondered about his initial reaction to her. Her smile faded, and her thoughts turned to his current perspective of her. She looked over at him as if seeing him would somehow cast light on the gray subject. He was asleep in the burgundy seat across from her, jacket slung over him, acting as a make shift blanket. He still looked exactly the same, the past five years did nothing to weather his appearance.
"Bordeaux in ten minutes." the conductor called over the loud speaker, sharply cutting onto her thoughts. The next stop was theirs. She should probably wake Amon, but she really didn't want to. Not that she feared his morning mood or something like that. It was just that he looked so at peace with himself. When sleeping his forehead relaxed and gave his face an almost soft facade. She finally gave in and lightly shook his shoulder. "Amon, Amon it's our stop." she spoke in her slow and soothing manner. He than rose to gave his things, not that he had many. Travel didn't allow for many accutrements.
" I had no idea it would be so busy on a Tuesday afternoon." Robin stated aloud to no one in particular as they climbed the stairs that lead from the platform to the center of the dingy station. In all their traveling this was her first time in Bordeaux, actually she hadn't seen much of France at all. She had been either driving through or flying over, never staying anywhere. It would be nice to do a little site seeing since they would be here for a while. At least, she hoped they would, since they were here on business, sent by Juliano to observe Andrew Dupont. Andrew Dupont was bishop of St. Andre cathedral. He was relatively new to the position, only acquiring it about a year ago. Despite his inexperience, the church has swelled under his command. The mystery wasn't with the church or with the bishop, but in the coincidence of the unusual number of children, belonging to members of St. Andre, dying of quite normal causes. Juliano made reservations for them at a hotel, nearest St. Andre, on Paramount Ave. It wasn't the most luxurious, but it certainly wasn't the cheapest either. The outside was outfitted in gray brick, with large square windows, giving it a toothless effect. The interior was much more inviting. The lobby walls were bathed in amber,and the floor was a faux marble similar in color, casting a spherical atmosphere. Accents of violet, a chair here and drapes there, appeared as mere flicks against the monotony of amber. The concierge greeted them as the neared the front desk.
"Reservations for Lucio Bellack." Amon stated curtly. Juliano always created aliases that seemed to roll of the tongue in an unrealistic way.
" Oh yes, rooms 431 and 433." the concierge replied, his voice that holding a degree of thinness, while handing Amon the access cards. It was just like Father Juliano to book two rooms, but he didn't know otherwise. As they made their way toward the elevator, to go to their rooms, The concierge called,"Sir, i almost forgot. You have a message," holding out a large brown envelop.
Once in the elevator, Robin asked, " What is in the envelop?"
Amon was sure he knew what was enclosed in the envelop, but carefully open it and tugged on a corner of the unknown to confirm his suspicions. "Just some photos of St. Andre and Father Andrew Dupont."
"Amon?" she asked as she turned toward him, the sleeve of her coat brushing his.
"What is it,Robin?" he inquired still looking at envelop.
"Which room do you want?"
He peered at her out of the corner of his eye." I don't know, yet. We'll just have to see." an air of play in his voice.
The rooms, side by side, were almost identical, The television was hidden away in a maple armoire near a matching table and chairs. There was a overstuffed sectional adjacent the bar, and the bed, tall, with a clean rectangular frame, was centered in front of the wall of windows. The only variations that caused the rooms not to be mirror images was color and lighting . One room was teal with a better view and other was beige with bigger windows. They both agreed on room 431, the beige one, and if they tired of it they would take up residency in room 433.
" I'm going to take a shower." Robin announced after depositing her maroon suitcase, and black messenger bag in a neat pile by the door. She wasted no time, for she was loosing clothing the whole distance to the shower. Amon merely chuckled to himself, the alluring comfort of the bed summoned him. A nap might not be a bad idea, since sleeping on trains didn't really herald much comfort, that was if the sandman would allow. After collapsing on the bed, and a short stint of tossing and turning, he found that sleep was not in the cards. So instead, he contently inspected the room from his stationary position. It held that simple, but some how held the expensive atmosphere that business offices often had. He was sure he would tire of it quickly. Few things ever stayed constant in his life, other than the STNJ gig, which now was the past, but outlasted many other variables, rather like a large rock in a rushing river. The water eroding all that stays in its path, but larger rocks just take a little more time to break down. The only other constant, that stood the test of time, was his current travel companion. Robin always had been a special case. He continued to listen to the fall of water on tile surfaces in the next room. Robin. Juliano made an almost apologizing comment once about Amon being stuck with Robin on an endless road trip. The truth was that he never did anything he didn't want to, but it didn't seem appropriate to tell Juliano they have been lovers and cohorts since she was 17. Now at 20, she hadn't changed much, a little wiser and a little curvier.
Finally, Robin padded out of the steamy bathroom, humming to herself and drying her hair as she walked. The plush, white, complementary robe loosely clutching her narrow waist. The sun had retired for the day, but the room was just luminous enough to view silhouettes. She cautiously slinked over to where Amon lay, purposely, in the center of the bed. Not saying a word, she climbed on the bed and hovered over him, knees on both sides of his hips and hands over his shoulders. Leaning down she brushed her lips lightly against his, before teasing his mouth open, so her tongue could join his, mimicking some sensual archaic ritual . She, then, redirected her attentions to his jawline and throat. She was careful to maintain the distance between them, her mouth being their only conduit. She inhaled his musky earthen scent, pulling back so she could release the small plastic buttons of his navy tailored shirt. He observed her, deciding to proceed with a hands-off approach. She then resumed the feather-light flicks of her tongue down his chest , over his rib cage, and onto his stomach, stopping just short of the waist band of his course, slightly faded black jeans, to encompass the small space directly above his zipper with her mouth. She sucked at the firm flesh with fervent implication. She lifted her face, looking him directly in the eye, she confessed, " My only objection to travel was it never left much time for...us" He reached up and gasped her behind the knees, closing the gap between them "You should say what you mean," he replied flipping her over and assuming the man-on-top position. Her wet hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her, robe slightly open,allowing a slight peep show. "Travel doesn't leave much time for fucking." Her only reply was a giggle, she loved the passion present in the raw crudeness of the statement. She loved the vehemence promised in his voice.
She had provoked him, and he had indulged her by feigning subjugation, much like a beast before attack, but enough with waiting. He slipped his fingers gently beneath her robe via the slash of exposed flesh, not immediately seeking her breasts. He traced the outline of her body, but only what he couldn't see, careful not to uncover it. He withdrew his search party, and teased her nipples through, the now seemingly thick robe. Robin knew he couldn't be rushed, if he set his mind not to; but, she still sought to try. She made to unfasten his belt, to her surprise he allowed her. Then, she tried for jeans button, but he backed out of reach. She had expected as much, so she instead shed her own clothing, if it could be called that, in rebellion. Feeling triumphal, she gathered the robe and tossed it across the room.
"It seems you cannot control those idle hands of yours" with that he slid his belt from its loops with his left hand and attempted to hold her arms with the other. He only succeeded in pinning one above her head, so he abandoned the belt, moving his pursuits south. He glided his middle finger into her warm, quite wet pussy, slowly working it back and forth. He pressed a little harder with each pass until his finger was well coated in her essence.
"Don't stop." Robin said meekly.
"I will continue on one condition: You surrender your other wrist." She did as she was told, drawing her wrist up to join the other. Amon groped for the previously abandoned belt, and bound them tightly together. " Roll over," he instructed. She obeyed without question. She heard zipper movement and the rustle of denim. The bed sunk down behind her, and in anticipation she raised her ass to meet him, and he accepted, steadying himself before plunging into her depths. He hesitated a moment before delving again in her depths, a moan escaping her.
Breeeeeennng. Breeeeeennnng.
Neither one moved, but the phone continued to ring. It had to be Juliano. Begrudgingly Amon took his leave of her to answer the villainous instrument of torture, "Amon....okay, we'll check it out."
Robin looked up at him, "So what did he want?"
"There has been another death."