It wasn't obvious, but the longer this went on, the more sure you were of it: The moments when you could swear you saw him looking at you-- only for his eyes to dart away when you turned. The looks he gave where he seemed impressed by you, perhaps almost intimidated which was a rare expression on him. And then tonight, this stupid errand you had to run to finish this mission-- why do arms dealers always hang out in sleazy clubs? How come it's never a matter of dressing up for an art exhibition or a fishing trip?

Anyway, his reaction to your dress was... intriguing. Subtle, generally speaking, but for a guy as stoic as Zemo it felt like he gave himself away completely. And even though you found him pretentious and frustrating, you couldn't deny your fascination with his attention. Or, maybe you just wanted to rub it in.

"Dance with me," you ordered suddenly as you found him on the dancefloor.

"What?" he replied, but you were already dragging him out with you.

"We need to blend in," you insisted.

You kept him close, closer than was needed, and moved along with the throbbing bass that shook your chest-- yes, it was definitely the music, not your heartbeat...

You'd hoped that would be enough to break his resolve, but he stayed quite controlled, and when you spotted the target, you unfortunately had to let the mission continue rather than keep toying with him.

But, when the job was done and you were back in your (temporary) base for the evening, he brought it up-- and with it, another opportunity.

"You really outdid yourself this evening," he told you, though there was a sourness to his tone-- he was clearly not congratulating you. "Must you always waste time when we have a goal to accomplish?"

You rolled your eyes as you hooked your finger into the strap of one of your heels to slip it off.

"Or is it just that you get some joy out of frustrating me?" he added.

You shot him a proud look when he said that. "Oh," you responded with a smirk, "so you're feeling... frustrated."

"Did I not make it obvious already?"

"Oh, you did," you responded knowingly, and he furrowed his brow.

"I'm not sure what you mean," he frowned, and you straightened up as you removed your other shoe and tossed it to the side before taking a bare-footed step towards him.

"You want me," you announced, raising your eyebrows like it was a challenge-- which in a certain way, it was.

"I despise you," he assured thinly.

"Yes," you agreed, "but doesn't change anything. You want me, you just don't want to want me. Actually, you probably hate it. But emotions are funny like that."

"Emotions?" he scoffed.

"Fine," you relented, "attraction, then."

For a second, he seemed to falter; his eyes flicked down over you before he turned his head to the side and crossed his arms. "Don't flatter yourself."

"It's not flattery if it's mutual," you answered, and he looked at you again, but with a very different look in his eyes. "I'm not too proud to deny it."

"We hate each other," he reminded you, again.

"Well, I'm not suggesting we go out for a milkshake and a drive-in," you chuckled.

"I didn't realize you were suggesting anything," he replied flatly.

"I just mean that, all this time together," you clarified, stepping towards him again, leaving just enough space between you for it to still be almost appropriate, "it's clearly getting to us. There's nothing wrong with that. And when this is all over, we'll be at each other's throats again..."

This time he moved forward-- barely, but it still mattered-- and you saw his eyes drifting over your face.

"But for tonight..." you continued, lowering your voice, "just for tonight--"

He wrapped his gloved hand around your neck-- not applying pressure, just... reminding you. Testing you, with the knowledge that you were making yourself vulnerable to him. You smiled, hoping you could dare him to actually tighten his grip just a bit; the way he kissed you, it seemed like he just wanted to get that smile off your face.

You grabbed his coat and pulled him closer, pressing yourself against him, already moaning a little in the back of your throat.

You gasped excitedly when he broke the kiss to stare at you with that fire in his eyes you'd been trying to stoke all night-- finally you might get to see him lose control. "Just for tonight," he continued where he cut you off, "you'll do as I fucking tell you."

He had no right to be jealous, surely he knew that; you figured all that 'you're mine' stuff in bed (though it was so rarely a literal bed) was just to be kinky. Apparently not, since he had somehow sensed that you were considering accepting some attention from a stranger-- since he had somehow found you here just to interrupt your brief moment of self-respect-- and ruined it.

You weren't sure how far you were really going to let it go. The young man at the bar was friendly if a little overly eager (and certainly more age appropriate for you) and you figured if you wanted, you could have him take you home and remind you what this felt like before Lee.

But you were pretty sure you wouldn't-- you knew you were too far gone for that. You knew, on some level, that you would spend the whole night thinking of Lee even if you weren't spending it with him.

In fact, when you'd tried to politely wiggle your way out of the flirtatious conversation, you'd almost slipped up. "You're sweet," you'd praised him bashfully, "but really, I should tell you, I can't."

"Why not?" he'd asked instantly. "Aw, you must have a boyfriend, don't you?"

And for a second you were going to instinctively nod. Actually, you had to take a sip of your drink to cover it and stall while you thought of something else. "Um, no," you'd finally mumbled, "but--"

"What a waste," he'd cooed at you sweetly, reaching to pet your thigh. Forward, sure, but not as aggressive at you thought it might've felt-- and not actually unwelcome, either.

And that was when he fucking appeared, impossibly, in the door. You jumped away from the hand on you when you saw him, like you were going to get in trouble. You felt stupid a second later for having such a thought-- why would I get in trouble?-- but you were right the first time.

That is, if you consider it 'trouble' to be behind the bar with your face pressed up against the cold brick wall, your panties around your knees, and your dress unbuttoned just enough to allow for a rough hand to squeeze one of your tits. I think most people would consider that trouble, surely.

"What were you thinking, baby?" Lee growled against your ear, fucking up into you harshly but keeping your hips in place with his free hand. "Letting some boy feel you up."

I thought you wouldn't care, you thought, but all your mouth could let out was more pathetic whimpers and moans.

"Guess m'not takin' good enough care of you," he decided. "Sorry, honey, didn't know you needed it so bad."

It wasn't a very sincere apology, it felt pretty condescending in fact, but when the hand that had slipped inside your dress and bra came down to fiercely rub your clit instead... you couldn't quite muster the energy to be offended. "Fuck," you whimpered, knees wobbling like they would give out without him holding you up.

"Or maybe you just wanted to make me angry, huh?" he suggested, his voice getting a bit rougher just as his movements did as well. "This is what you need, to be reminded who you belong to?"

Your eyes were stinging, but you weren't sure if you were about to cry from how he was slamming into you or something a bit more metaphysical.

"Well, I won't let you forget, baby," he promised. "Say it for me and I'll let you come."

"Lee, I--"

"Mm?" he encouraged.

You knew you were supposed to say I'm yours, but maybe it was the moderate inebriation, or maybe you were just tired of fucking lying-- to him and to yourself. "I love you," you blurted out.

As you shut your eyes tightly, realizing what you'd just done, you felt his motion slow to a stop. "Huh?" you heard his response.

"I-I'm sorry," you started to take it back immediately, hoping somehow he would believe that you just misspoke and you didn't really mean it.

"Honey..." he sighed, and you let a breath out of your nose. There was already an apology brewing in his tone, you could hear it. A gentle letdown. An awkward 'I thought you knew what this was'. Something like that. "You--"

"I'm sorry," you said again, prying yourself out from between him and the wall. You quickly pulled your panties back up, struggling to button the top of your dress again with your shaking hands.

"Hey," he said softly, turning you back towards him with a hand on your upper arm. You looked down-- ostensibly at your buttons-- but your sniffle gave it away. "Hey, hey," he said again as you started to openly cry, and pulled you into his chest to wrap you in a hug.

You weren't sure if he'd ever hugged you in all this time... you certainly hadn't cried in front of him, at least not with him noticing.

"You can do better than me," he whispered to you. "You can do so much better than me..."

You shook your head as best you could with it pressed against him.

"You can," he assured, "you know I'm no good for you, honey. I shouldn't've... hell, I probably shouldn't've messed around with you at all. S'my fault, I just..."

He'd said something about that before. Just couldn't help myself, that was his excuse at the time. You looked so cute and helpless, just couldn't resist you. It had made you feel like a million bucks at the time, but then he came and told you you should head back home and you felt so cheap. That's just how it always went-- and you kept coming back, because you couldn't help yourself, either.

"And you're too young to be stuck with somebody--"

"Then let me go," you demanded, stopping him suddenly. He loosened his embrace and you pulled back enough to look up at him with your watering eyes. "Love me, or let me go."

He looked back at you-- seemingly tenderly, unless you were just imagining it. But then, no, he reached up and held your cheek, his thumb wiping a tear, so yes-- it must have been tenderness you were seeing on his face. It made him look so different... "Dunno how," he mumbled nervously.

"Which one?" you asked.

"Both," he answered. "Don't know how to let you go. But I don't know how to love anybody. Not proper, anyway. Not the way you deserve."

"Well, give one a try," you frowned, "or I'm leavin'. For good this time."

For once, he didn't taunt you with the reminder that you always came back. He did smile, but not in a teasing way. "My, you're a handful," he scoffed. "And I'm not talkin' about your ass-- this time."

You rolled your eyes.

"I like it, though," he decided. He'd told you before that he liked your 'spunk' as he called it, even if he suddenly decided that it was an 'attitude' sometimes and found creative ways to put you in place. This felt different, of course-- this didn't feel like another way for him to belittle and compliment you at the same time. This felt like he was admitting something he really liked about you as a person, which you hadn't realized was important until he did it just then and it made your chest warm up instantly. "I wanna love ya, honey-- just never ended well for me before..."

"I don't care," you insisted. "Just try."

He shook his head. "It's not that I have to try... it's..."

He sighed through his nose, frowning a little. You kind of got the impression Lee wasn't well-versed in complex emotional conversations.

"It's easy to love you," he decided, and your heart fluttered again. "Everybody does, honey, you know that, but-- fuck, if I fucked you up, I'd feel like shit for the rest of my life."

"M'already fucked up," you assured, "by you, and before you. Why can't we just be fucked up together?"

His hands ran all over every part of you he could reach, his fingers digging into the softest parts and kneading eagerly, clumsily, desperately. Where he had earlier in the evening used words to praise every inch of you, now he only used his touch, but it was just as effective.

"Shh, yes you can," he insisted in a mumble, interrupting himself to pant with exhaustion. "Just one more, please..."

But you were exhausted too, though for an entirely different reason. You had no way to know how long this had been going on but you knew just from the dampness beneath you on the sheets-- sweat, tears, and a mix of come from both of you-- that it had been quite a while. You clung to those same sheets as he continued his thrusts into you: he'd slowed down his pace but somehow maintained the same intensity, and you literally thought you were going to go numb inside from the constant sticky friction.

"Jus' need to feel it," he begged, "c'mon, just need to feel it-- need to make you come again."

Why he wasn't satisfied by the last dozen or so orgasms, you couldn't say. He's already promised you rest once only to start back up again after just a few moments, slurring out some apologies and saying he couldn't help it with how badly he needed you.

You whined through your teeth, reaching up and trying to grab onto him but finding your hands too weak and shaky, so you let them collapse at your sides limply. "That's it," he encouraged, lifting himself up to look down proudly at your face through glassy eyes. He knew you were close, in fact he could tell better than you could since he had, somehow, more mental faculties to notice the signs. His hands moved to hook under your knees, keeping your legs spread and lifted exactly how he wanted-- which is to say, exactly how he knew would keep your spot where he wanted it in line with his movements.

As you whimpered, eyes rolling back, you heard his smile in the way it shaped his voice.

"Oh I know, I know," he cooed-- a little pitying, it made you shiver slightly. That was the cycle of this, he kept begging for you only to end up proving you were actually the desperate one. "You're so perfect, look at you..."

He kissed up your legs, apparently unfazed by the layer of sweat, as they started to shake.

"So fucking perfect," he repeated. "Let me feel it, c'mon, that's it--"

The sound you made was... if you had any energy left to be embarrassed you might call it embarrassing. You certainly wouldn't call it attractive, considering it was so broken and unrestrained that it sounded kind of like a dying animal, but apparently Edward loved it.

"Fuck!" he groaned suddenly, mumbling a couple praises before suddenly stopping and falling over you.

You were still kind of 'in it' at that point so you barely noticed, and yet you still lifted your arms to drape them around his back as he nuzzled into your neck once again. He must have been barely holding himself back to come so suddenly when you did; he'd kept his composure a lot better than you, but now both of you were just a heaving pile together.

"You're perfect," you heard him say again, though it was so soft under his breath that you barely made it out past the ringing in your ears. You wanted to return the compliment but your mouth was dry and you felt like you couldn't afford to take a break from the heavy breathing to say even a word.

His hands started to move again, releasing your legs and sliding up your sides, tickling your arms, one beginning to gently grope at your chest until you felt goosebumps start to rise.