Fontaine was nasty. In every way. He was mean and completely ruthless. Mercy was a foreign concept to him. People were scared of him, which was reasonable. He'd killed so many people that it would be impossible to even attempt to count. His threats were never really threats, more like promises. If he wanted someone to hurt, he would follow through with it. He was a nasty, nasty man. Except when he wasn't.

Fontaine would occasionally just drop off the map and stop causing trouble. He wouldn't be seen for a while and if anybody did catch sight of him, he was cuddled up closely next to you. He'd be quiet to everyone else around, but he'd happily whisper sweet nothings in your ear, tell you he was ready to go home. He was a different kind of nasty those times, whispering all the things he wanted to do to you and rubbing his hands on your body in a way that made it very easy for you to say quick goodbyes to anyone around and get him home so that you were able to ride his face. That was when you two were good. When you weren't, Fontaine would be back to his normal, violent ways.

"Are you ready yet?"

Yo-Yo had been banging on the front door of your apartment for so long that it was starting to give you a headache.

"Yeah, I'm ready," you finally responded, out of breath from running around your apartment looking for your phone, lip gloss, and purse. "Let's go."

It was a Friday night and The Playhouse was full. The line had been out the door, but Yo-Yo used to dance there, so that was no problem for the two of you. As a matter of fact, the night would have gone smoothly if it weren't for one teeny tiny little thing: Fontaine was one jealous son of a bitch.

Most people knew about the unspoken thing between you and Fontaine, but there were those who either didn't know or didn't care. Either way, their lives were in imminent danger.

"Ooooh, girl I know you got a nigga at home that don't play 'bout you!"

The man was partially right. While you didn't have a man, the man that you didn't have definitely did not play when it came to you. However, you were already three lemon drop shots deep and when you got that way you wanted attention, which this man was more than willing to offer you.

"I don't fuck with these niggas 'round here!" you yelled to him over the loud music, a playful grin on your face. He grinned back at your statement.

"Oh, for real?" he questioned, stepping closer to you and snaking his arm around your waist to pull you in.

You nodded, throwing your arms over his shoulders as you danced. He was tall and strong and very handsome, but he wasn't Fontaine. You could tell he had no bite to him. Plus, you had no real plans of taking him home with you. You were unsure if it was fortunate or not that Fontaine had basically ruined you for other men, but all you did know was that you had no interest in having anyone other than Fontaine in your bed.

"Why not?"

He'd twirled you now and your back was pressed against his chest. You could feel him hard against you and your eyes rolled in annoyance.

"Y'all annoying as fuck," you responded. "Can't take y'all asses serious."

Yo-Yo looked at you and nodded in approval of your response. She had recently gone through a breakup and tossed all of her faith in men into a dumpster with lighter fluid and a match.

"We ain't gotta do nun serious," he spoke in your ear, lips brushing against it gently.

You shook your head and turned back around to face him.

"Like I said, I don't play with y'all niggas-"

"You just like to play with me?" a deep voice responded roughly.

Shit.

Your entire body froze. It was as if you were unsure whether you should be telling the man in front of you to run or if you should save yourself and book it as fast as possible.

Before you could even finish your contemplation, your arm had been grabbed and you were roughly tugged away from your newfound dance partner. The crowd of people in the building gasped and screamed as Fontaine, in all his violent glory, held a pistol to the other man's forehead.

Yo-Yo huffed, frustrated that Fontaine had ruined her fun, promising under her breath that she'd get him back for it later.

"Aye, I thought you said you ain't got no nigga!" the man shouted, fearful for his life as Fontaine's glare seemingly burned him alive.

"I don't."

"She don't."

Fontaine had responded at the exact same time as you, which only furthered the man's confusion.

"What the fu-"

"Shut the fuck up, nigga," Fontaine threatened.

At this point, the club had been emptied out except for you, Yo-Yo, Fontaine and his crew, and the man who's life was currently sitting in the palm of your "situationship."

"Get out," he demanded, turning back to you.

"Fuck you, don't tell me what to do."

He raised an eyebrow at you, daring you to keep talking back to him.

"I ain't fucking playing witchu, get the fuck outside. Now!" he yelled, getting more frustrated. "Yo-Yo, you go, too."

It occurred to you suddenly that he was dead serious and you sighed, grabbing Yo-Yo and walking out.

You heard Fontaine put the gun down and tell Moss to "handle his ass" as you opened the door and walked outside.

"That nigga is fucking crazy 'bout you," Yo-Yo laughed, shaking her head.

"No, he fucking crazy. Period."

"Two things can be true at once," she reminded you, pulling a lighter from her purse and lighting the blunt she'd rolled before she left her house.

You were freezing as the two of you stood on the sidewalk waiting for Fontaine to be done jumping the poor man inside. Shortly after, he came outside, staring down at you that made you nervous and had you pressing your thighs together at the same time.

"Moss, get Yo-Yo home safe."

Yo-Yo giggled, raising knowing eyebrows at you before linking her arm with her bodyguard for the night. You were in for it.

You scoffed at Fontaine, rolling your eyes as you began walking in the opposite direction toward your apartment. He followed right behind you, which was a surprise to no one.

"You didn't have to do that," you snapped.

"You ain't have to grind all over that nigga, but you did."

"Don't make what you did right."

He didn't respond, too distracted by the way your ass was bouncing in that dress as you walked in front of him.

"You can be so fucking childish sometimes, Fontaine. Like, what the fuck is the problem?" you snapped, rubbing your hands against your biceps in an attempt to heat yourself up a bit. "I'm not your girl, so I don't get why you think you can act any kinda way 'bout what I do and who I'm with-"

Fontaine cut you off by grabbing your arm and pulling you into one of the alleys behind the corner store. You fussed as he dragged you along and pushed you against the brick wall.

"You not my girl?" he questioned, trapping you with his arms on either side of your head.

"You heard me."

Fontaine laughed a bit, which was a scary thing. He wasn't happy with you, but you were so fucking amusing when you acted like he didn't pretty much own you.

"I like this dress you got on tonight," he complimented, eyes drinking you in and making you feel exposed before him.

You rolled your eyes in response. You were real good at pissing him off and tonight you were two for two.

"The fuck got in that pretty little head of yours tonight, huh? Talk to me."

"Got bored, got drunk, wanted attention. How you even find out where I was?"

While you were talking, Fontaine had slid his hand up your dress and under your thigh, fingers toying with the black panties you had on.

"None of your business," he sighed, slipping his index finger underneath the thin, lace garment and slowly pressing inside of you. "Why you ain't just call me if you wanted attention?"

You squirmed against the wall when he added another finger inside of you. A long time ago, you probably would have called him when you got lonely, but you knew better now. Whenever you called, he came, but then you'd get attached just for it to all blow up in your face. It wasn't worth the emotional distress anymore.

"You know why."

Fontaine hummed in response before pressing a soft kiss to your neck, making you shiver. His thumb was on your clit now, rolling so gently that it felt like torture.

"Was you gon' fuck that nigga tonight?"

You didn't respond. Of course you weren't and he already knew that. But, he loved to hear you say the things that you two were already well aware of.

Fontaine's free hand gripped your jaw, shaking your head.

"Answer me," he warned, fingers tight on your face.

"No."

He felt pride shoot through him, glad to know that it was still just him for you. It was just you for him, too, but you didn't really need to know all that, did you?

Fontaine pushed a third finger into you, stretching your hole to accommodate his digits. His thumb was relentless on your clit, pressing down a bit more and making your knees go weak.

He always knew exactly how to make you forget why you weren't with him in the first place. It was much easier to ignore all the games he played with you when he was knuckles deep in your pussy with no intentions of stopping until you came all over his fingers.

Fontaine sank his teeth into the side of your neck, sucking a spot that would definitely be dark by the morning. He was making sure the whole neighborhood knew he'd slithered his way back into your life. That mark would be the only warning for any man with plans for trying to get to know you.

"Fuck, 'Taine," you moaned, head pressing against the brick wall as he curled his fingers inside of you and hit a spot inside of you that shook you to your core.

"That's right, baby. Say my name."

"Fontaine, faster. Please," you begged in a whisper, barely able to get your words out as you felt yourself nearing the edge.

He listened, thrusting his fingers into you faster and applying more pressure to your clit. You swore you were going to explode soon.

His words weren't helping.

"That's it, baby. Take it, just like that."

"Gon' take you home and sit you on my dick. You gon' be cummin' for me all night."

"Cum for me, baby. Wanna taste you. Wanna spit in that pretty mouth so you can taste yourself."

You were gripping at his shoulders, desperately clinging to him as your orgasm began to roll through you. It was pathetic, the way he turned you into nothing but a moaning blubbering mess in just minutes.

You came on his fingers, legs shaking as he held you and kept you from falling. It was so hard to breathe as he removed his fingers from you, licking them clean to taste you.

"Taste so good, baby. Can't wait to get your fine ass home to taste some more."

There's the nasty Fontaine you knew so well. You fucking loved it.

Fontaine couldn't wait to get you home. He wanted to keep you there, have you for himself whenever he wanted. He wanted to take care of you, do anything you wanted or needed and keep you safe. He wanted to be yours again.

"Make a deal with me, baby," he started, running his thumb along your bottom lip as you took deep breaths and cane down from your high. "We stop playin' games."

You raised your eyebrows at him, unsure if what he was suggesting was even possible for you two.

"What? Like me and you for real?"

"Yeah."

"Fine, but you can't get crazy when other men speak to me."

"Aight," he agreed hesitantly, knowing he wasn't really able to promise that.

"And, no more pullin' up to see what I'm doing all the time."

"K."

Another nearly impossible task. He just liked to know you were okay.

"And, get rid of that fuck ass gun."

You knew him well enough to know that that damn gun wasn't going anywhere. He was too paranoid and too concerned with making sure you were protected to get rid of it, but it was worth a try to see just how far he'd go for you.