Confessions of a libra

Credit: Here

[ Per request. Because closed mouths don’t get fed. ]

30.05.25

“If you’re gonna work for me, you’ve gotta earn your keep.” I said while munching on a carrot.

Dax looked up, half naked from his perch at my dining table. He had seen fit to make himself a drink and was consuming it half naked. How comfortable he had gotten after one night of copulation.

“I suspected as much,” he replied gravely.

I grabbed some houmous from the fridge then sat to the right of him, diagonally. I dipped it and kept munching. He sipped his coffee loudly, comfortably. This man.

“Yes, you were smart enough to be given this assignment. But not smart enough to decline it,” I teased.

His eyes narrowed as I smirked. That got him right in his little ego. He doesn’t even know what he’s dealing with.

“There’s a savageness about you,” he laid it out like a prognosis.

“I think you mean savagery,” I replied with ease.

He scoffed then, taking another slip of his coffee.

I continued, “What kind of name is Dax anyway?”

His eyes glazed over as a far away look gripped him. I noticed twitching in his hands but he had the restraint to not to escalate. Noted.

“The kind that has seen too much,” is all he managed.

I could sense it. A heaviness behind the jokes, behind the precision and behind the ego.

“Why do you kill for hire,” I asked in the same tone one might ask about the morning paper. Easy, light.

The hum of the fridge is the dominant sound in the room while he curates an answer. I hoped to Goddess that mounting him earned me a modicum of honesty.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he exhaled.

His hands had a tick when was nervous, I was gathering. I’m flattered he feels the pressure of my questioning. I read his answer as a resistance to lying to me. So, I appreciated that too.

“How can I trust a man without a code? At least if you give me a reason that makes sense, I can judge the kind of man you really are. And I don’t have to ask…” I say the last part in a lower tone. Threatening maybe. Sexy if you’re dangerous.

His face remained stoic as I watched a rainbow of emotions flicker behind his eyes. I wanted to know if he still believed in his own humanity. If not, he may as well be a sacrifice to a worthy cause.

“No innocents. No children. No kin of my client. No beloveds. I set the price. And I never kill the same way twice,” he finished up.

He delivered every word with bite. I saw his jaw lock and I imagined he had a lot he was keeping in. I had time.

“So you think I have blood on my hands then?” I asked slowly, tentatively.

“I read the dossier. I did a stakeout and suddenly I needed to know what made you so dangerous. I guess I wasn’t convinced…” he trailed off.

This little bit amused me. He’d been watching me, and wanted any evidence to disprove my being dangerous. I withheld a cackle. I needed him safe to continue opening up and sharing his feelings.

“And now, after last night?” I ask in velvety tones.

He looked at me with piercing clarity. My heart sped up and my nipples tingled in acknowledgement. Images of his lying form with little pricks of blood all over his chest and stomach flooded my mind. Then flashes of me riding him senseless into shared oblivion.

“After last night, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.” Dax declared with lucidity.

Written under Lilith’s juridiction.

Signed in bone and brilliance.