It was all he seemed to do when it came to her. He watched.
He waited, he listened and always, always watched.
He watched as the door opened and she disappeared into the shadows. He saw the flickering candlelight that caught her silhouette against the drapes. He listened as soft music filtered through the cracks in the window. A second form stepped behind her.
And still he watched. Unwillingly or willingly, he watched.
He briefly closed his eyes and tried to dispel reality in favour of his memory.
"I need you," he whispered, voice husky with need and want.
Her hands splayed on his chest, pushing off him.
"You need air."
Eyed narrowed, he grasped her shoulders, refusing her leave.
"I need you," he rasped harshly, determined to have his way.
She struggled a bit but retorted faithfully, "You need water."
Groaning in frustration he repositioned her, gripping with firm arms and strong, muscled thighs.
"I need you," he repeated in a low growl that raised goose bumps on her flesh, but he knew not if from revulsion or excitement. If she seemed fazed, it quickly passed.
She scoffed, "You need food," immediately resuming the struggle to break free of his hold.
His eyes met hers, lust darkened and heavy lidded, and speaking of barely restrained passion and desire. His heightened state of arousal and her repeated refusals had him at an all time low.
A final attempt.
"I need you," he entreated, quivering and vulnerable.
He saw the dawning of comprehension, a flicker of emotion, the moment she realised that he was serious and, to his uncomprehending mind, found acceptance in her eyes.
Clothes disappeared in a flurry of motion, roving hands, panted breaths and nonsensical whimpering.
The radio crackled.
"He is on his way."
Goddamn you, Mole! Thank you, Mole. Fu-
She was gone.
Opening his eyes again, faithfully and hopefully he watched. He waited. He listened.
"I need you!"
And he was destroyed.