You sat up, running a hand through your tangled hair, your fingers catching on the memory of his touch from two nights ago reminding you how he is torturing you.

Nothing had happened.

Not even when the space between you two had been now too close and your heart was pounding against your ribs and your body was screaming for you to surrender to the warmth of him, to this need that you have had all this time. Nothing happened.

Seungcheol had stopped. He had pressed a slow, agonizingly gentle kiss to your forehead, he was fighting his own desire and you could see it through his hands slightly shaking and his ears red as blood, breathing uneven and his eyes as dark and dilated as yours.

“I want to do this right, sweetheart,” he had whispered, his voice thick with such a restraint that took everything in him not tobreak. You did not help cause even in this situation, you looked like a goddess. “No masks, no blood on your hands, I’m going to earn you back properly this time.”

It was a noble, classic gesture—the act of a man who wanted to court you properly, the way he used to before the world went to hell.— It would’ve been such a romantic gesture, one surely to swoop you off your feet, but as you swung your legs out of the massive bed, the lighting, the smell, your bare feet sinking into a plush perfectly clean rug, a cold wave of cruel reality washed over you.

This sweet romantic illusion was fading slowly and being replaced by the heavy, stubborn weight of your own annoyance towards him. Some might call it resentment.

It was infurating because he wanted to play the gentleman now. The knight in shining armor, he’d looked delicious, but that’s not the point.

This man wanted to build a gold bridge over an almost two-year dramatic silence, and he foolishly was expecting you to just walk across it with a wide smile and jumb into his arms.

But the reality is that he still left. He let you bury your parents alone, let you become a masked woman in your own life, all under the arrogant stupid assumption that his absence was to keep you safe. Fucking hell, you were not going to fall back into his arms that easily.

You couldn’t and you wont. The woman you are now, the one that often has to clean fresh blood from your arms and find a way to take off the stain on your clothes, that woman so fiercely had protected herself from mafia wannabes trying to take her, that damn woman will not let herself be soft again for him just because he looked at her with puppy-dog eyes.

Or look at that woman with nothing but lust, with this need to touch you, have you and claim you, with that conviction that your body needs him and his own wants you badly. Either way that woman—you, won’t soften for him, you won’t give in that easily. He need to learn a lesson that surely no one taught him.

By the second day, the luxury of the Choi mansion had officially turned into a fancy cage.

Your lives were tied now and there was no way of preventing that given your situation, and frankly what they needed from Miss Cherry. You needed the resources of Sector 17 to take ATZ by force, and Seungcheol needed your detailed maps of their supply lines to do everything without further complications.

So, it had been more than forty-eight hours where you had practically lived in his dark, tobacco scented and expensive wooden furniture office. You already had your specific spot at the massive table.

You had proven your worth beautifully, Wonwoo had been forced to re-evaluate his entire ledger after you pointed out how ATZ was using different methods in their distribution that he did not see.

Jihoon had stopped glaring at you entirely once you laid out the exact guard rotations for the warehouses near the Han river—details you had casually and effortlessly extracted from a drunk retired officer that worked for them, let’s not mention the way you had to pray, meditate, and do every other ritual to control your need to put a bullet on that man’s head. He was an officer, and worked willingly for the mafia, it was sickening. For men like him, your father didn’t get the justice he deserved.

That day for that specific companion, you had given him a very strong laxative disguised as a glass of whisky. Damn, even Minghao had given you a silent, respectful nod when you corrected his tactical approach at one sketchy alley near the river.

But every time the meetings ended, the reality of your confinement disguised as new safe home slapped you in the face annoyingly. And it has just been a day.

“I need my things, Seungcheol,” you said, leaning against his desk as the clock ticked past noon on the third day. The boys had left the room, leaving just the two of you in this heavy silence. A restain from him due to you being there looking too good, and yours because you were bored out of your mind and you wanted him. “I hate not being in my own clothes. I’m not spending another night wearing your shirts and pacing around this office, honey you need to open these windows.”

Seungcheol didn’t look up from his paperwork immediately. His tailored jacket hanging perfectly off his broad shoulders, he fixed his tie before he finally set the pen down and met your gaze. Rubbing his chin made yhe heavy ring on his finger caught your eye.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Excuse me?” You arched an eyebrow, your voice dangerously calm trying to process what he’s saying no to.

“You are not going back to that apartment, y/n. And you are certainly not going back to the streets alone,” he said, his tone steady, holding the authority of a man used to give orders left and right. “ATZ is practically on a hunting spree around Manhattan looking for the doll face who put two bullets into Yeosang’s right hand. If you walk out of this place you’re a walking target sweetheart. Everything you need can be bought and brought here.” He thought it was over letting out an exhausting breath. As if this conversation was too tiring, that made your own blood heat up dangerously.

“I do not want anything bought. What I want Choi is my belongings, my place. I feel in a goddamn cage Choi Seungcheol!” you snapped, stepping closer, your fingers digging into the edge of his desk. “I don’t think you understand that I am a partner in this operation, I am not your houseguest, not a damsel in distress, already told you I’ve been around this fucked up world, around ATZ for a year without a bodyguard or a huge mansion to hide in. Certainly I did not had a knight in shining armor keeping me safe, that man left without a word, you left, so do not start pretending you can control me now.”  

Seungcheol sighed, a flash of frustration and exhaustion breaking through his rigid “Boss” mask. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes softening as he looked at you, taking in the defiant stare, it was hot if he dared to think further about it. So hot to be challenged.

But right now he could see it, and he did not like to be the cause of your frustration, he does not want you to feel like that with him, he wants to make you feel comfortable, safe and yes, protected. Is that wrong?

“I’m not trying to control you, sweetheart” he said softly, his voice dropping to that intimate tone that seemed to kick down all your defenses and will power. “But right now, things got more complicated, and you know it. You’re in this world, yes but I— look just let me keep you safe here while we plan the next move. Please.” It was like a plea. Yeah it definitely was.

It was annoying, him pleading for something that he originally thought knew best, now he is asking?

“Safe,” you repeated, letting out a short, bitter chuckle as you turned on your heel and walked toward the tall closed curtains, the window had a beautiful garden view. “That's your favorite word, it is your specialty isn’t it? You keep me ‘safe’ by keeping me away. Right now Choi, you’re far from saving me. You’re leaving me out of this shit show MY shit show. Choi, the people who actually pulled the trigger on my father walk around free and you expect me to stay here? I didn’t agree to come here, to work with Sector 17 to end up sitting on a velvet sofa and wait for an update in my own plan! I joined this, I am helping because I want to watch them burn. I am the one burning them.”

You stared at him a few seconds longer before turning around once again, looking out at the garden, full of flowers in their blooming season. You were trying you really were, but you couldn’t understand. To you, he wanted you as her own personal doll, like if you couldn’t handle yourself and that made your chest tighten with a deep sense of irritation. You felt—no, you were trapped.

“You’ll watch them burn,” Seungcheol matched your firm stare, he was as stubburn as you were that was either exciting on extremely infuriating. “But I need to to listen to me sweetheart. You’re feeling like this and I get it, I really do. What I need you to understand is that I can’t let you go out like nothing is happening. I am still carrying the weight for taking that decision of leaving every second that passes and it kills me to think of what you went through, but this is the present and I am here so please work with me here.”

“Work with me too Choi, I’m feeling useless once again! Trapped here because men can’t handle a woman doing a better job at sabotaging a mafia gang, a really sexist move—”

“You think this is because you’re a woman?” Seungcheol scoffed raising slightly his voice, he was now annoyed at her own assumption. Yes it was part true, but mostly because his instinct made him like this, it is not an excuse, but definitely not doing it condescendingly. “God, you’ve proved to be a smart fearless woman Y/n, you’ve done so much damage alone with just a sultry smile. But you know, you fucking know how dangerous that is, you’ve been in danger for it! You actually think I’ll let you do that again?”

“You are not—and I repeat Choi— you are not the boss of me. You have no right to tell me what I can or can not do, so get that on your fucking head”

“It’s not about that, fucking hell” he groaned, running his hand through his hair. “I can’t lose you twice! You’re mad at me I get it, I made a mistake. But I am here and I can’t do this, I can’t let you go now that I know what’s going on! And before you open that sassy mouth of yours, I was in the dark before. I didn’t know what was going on, if I did I would’ve stopped you, I would’ve done the dirty job so you wouldn’t have to move a single finger. But I didn’t I wasn’t there but right now I’m here and I want to do everything to protect you, fuck I’m scare I could lose you!”

There was evident frustration and anger towards himself, you could see that. You hated how he still had that power over you, that he still has that effect of making you soft for him.

“I get it too, you’re here and I appreciate it… a little” you sighed and sat down leaning into his desk “but I’m not the same soft woman, I am now someone that is willing to kill people, I am determined to kill the people who took my family away from me.”

“You’re so stubborn.” Seungcheol groaned, he knew this was going to be difficult, but he did not knew keeping you safe would be like this “I don’t want you to be where the real danger is.”

“Oh, and the danger I’ve been through is not real?” you snapped at him, once again, let’s minimize everything. “I was this damn close to being raped, I have been assaulted, the men going to that speakeasy bar are disgusting, you think being there didn’t earned me a few ass grabbing without my consent? Why do you think I’ve killed people? Those dumb ass fuckers tried to take advantage of me, of a woman. Isn’t that dangerous enough for you?”

“Please, stop” Seungcheol winced, like the way you mentioned everything hurt him

“Why? Are you uncomfortable? This is the truth Seungcheol, this is me. A woman that went through all this uncomfortable disgusting shit. I am this woman ready to kill and I do not need a gun, I will do it with no goddamn remorse.” Your tone firm and steady cause you were already irritated. “This is what is going to happen next darling, You’re going to let me get my stuff or bring them to be I’ll be flexible with that. But I won’t stay behind these fucking doors. So, you either count me in your next move or I’m out. And trust me on this. You’ll never see me again.”

“Y/n—”

“No I don’t give a shit who’s mafia you are the boss of I will leave. I already lived almost two years without you, I can do it again.” The finality of your words struck something inside Seungcheol, the simple idea of you leaving and not needing him was crushing him.

He’s The Choi Seungcheol, Sector17 Mafia Boss, a terrifiying threat to others, hearless with others. But you, he’s not Choi Seungcheol, he’s Cheol. The man who fell in love with your eyes, the one oddly captivated by this new you.

Because of course, while you were ranting, he’d be thinking on how hot you sounded, how fierce and daring you are. That did something to him, dangerously sexy, weirdly endearing. Making him fall in love with you more, oh yes definitely.

Still, the fear lingers, because what you’ve told him makes him see red, wanting to kill those fuckers

But you already did that so…

“You leave me speechless sweetheart.” Seungcheol leaned back on his chair. That starteled you. With your smart mouth you’d think he would be mad, screaming back at you. Being as stubborn as you are and order you threatening you even. But there he is, a smirk showing on his face, ears red and you know they’re not angry red.

“What?”

“I’m impressed and gotta admit—” He licked his lips tilting his head “I’m a little turned on right now.”

You chocked on your own saliva, did he really just said that? “Choi Seungcheol!”

“I’m not going to go into details about that. Yet.” He chuckled at your own expression “let’s make two deals.”

“This should be interesting. Go on” you raised an eyebrow, ready to listen but also ready to say no. “I’ll send someone to get all your belongings from your apartment, everything and I’ll buy whatever else you need. But you stay with me here. Live here in this mansion. As my love or not, it is up to you. Just, I want you to live here in a comfortable more sanitary space.”

“Choi Seungcheol,” your warning tone made him wince but he ignored it

“At least until we tear ATZ apart and I am 100 percent sure no one wants to rip your head off.” He pleaded making you roll your eyes, he lifted his hand the second he saw you were ready to respond “I’m giving you space too sweetheart. I want you, all of you. I also want you to be safe and living properly like you should live. You’ll get your stuff and more, just stay here until everything get’s dealt with. Which leads me to the next deal.”

With a sigh, the offer was tempting enough to make you consider. You liked the idea of having a bath without hearing your neighbor at the apartment next to yours flush their toilet with a grunt.

“Go on.”

“Stay by my side. Plan everything, give my men orders if you might. Get information at the bar when things calm down a little more, be Miss Cherry again if you need to, but with my supervision,” you blinked. Supervision? “I mean, having someone undercover with you too. I know and you’ve made very clear that you can do this alone but just humor me with that will you. You’d be part of everything, but with someone next to you. With me next to you.”

You were torn.

You wanted to deny his request and be as stubborn as you can be, a nightmare because you had your pride. But you also wanted to rest, this has been exhausting and you will be honest, staying back and enjoy the life he’s proposing is very much tempting.

Thinking about it for a second, the answer was there.

“Alright.” You cleared your throat, “First deal, done. But I am going to chose the new stuff, I do not trust your men’s taste. Maybe Jeonghan’s cause he’s really pretty.” Seugncheol chuckled and raised an eyebrow, it was funny that you thought he was pretty, considering he’s the most lethal, hearless and the team’s biggest manipulator.

“You got it.”

“The second deal is… interesting.” straightening your back you tilted your head “Okay, let’s work together. You will not shut down my approaches, I will have my gun with me at all times, I will go back as Miss Cherry” you watched his expression tighten at the mention of Miss Cherry “I will not deal privately with men like before. I know that’s upsetting you, so no I will not be as flirty as I used to be. One last thing, Cheolie please do not make one of your gorillas work with me. I can’t disguise them as ladies.”

“As interesting as it could be, no they won’t be the ones going with you. I have the perfect barman, waiter whatever. He’s one of the best at hiding in plain sight and excellent hand to hand fighting.” He grinned, thinking about it. “His name is Lee Chan.”

“Alright then, deal.”

For a second you considered how this would turn out. You had him as your ally.

Change of plans

Inside The Diamond, the jazz music was so loud you could feel it, the dance floor packed with flappers in shining dresses and men in sharp suits dancing like there was nothing to worry about.

You’re back as Miss Cherry, it had been a “quiet” day so far. You’d been on the look out for any member or close tail to ATZ but has been boring. Behind the bar, Chan was already in character, wearing a white apron with his sleeves rolled up, with too much ease he was making and sliding glasses of bootleg gin across the wood like it was second nature.

“Wow, you look like you’re a professional at this, does Seungcheol know you drink kid?” you murmured, leaning against the bar with a chuckle at Chan’s rolling eyes, you adjusted the red mask. “Are you even legal?”

“I am, and this is not that difficult you know. I’m a fast learner” Chan replied smoothly, not breaking his rhythm as he wiped down the counter. His eyes flicked subtly toward the entrance. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

You didn’t turn around immediately. Instead, you picked up your glass, catching the reflection in the mirror behind the bar. A man in a sharp but too plain suit, with a distinct too aggressive posture, a familiar one that many ATZ soldiers had.

He was looking for someone, for you specifically.

“Keep your distance, but stay sharp,” you whispered to Chan.

“Copy that, boss.” Chan said with a quick, easy grin before moving down the bar to ‘serve’ another customer.

You rolled your eyes trying to hide a smile at the charm Chan has even in tense situations. Difficult to believe he’s a professional streetfighter.

Putting on your best Miss Cherry smile— flirty, alluring, and entirely unbothered by this man’s “scary” appearance—you waited for him. The man stopped right in front of you, his eyes locking onto your mask. He’s tall, you could tell he had the job to be the intimidating one. His eyes were filled with annoyance and a sharp condescending stare bore into your own eyes. His deep voice a contrast to what he wanted to say, what he might want to prove.

“Miss Cherry,” his voice low and with that edge trying to intimidate you “The boss has been looking for you. You’ve been making a lot of noise in this city lately.”

“Well, what can I say darling, a lady likes to make an entrance,” you purred, tilting your head. “And who exactly is your boss? I talk with so many gentlemen darling, I lose track when they’re not interesting.”

The man took a step closer, his eyes scanning the bar, remaining a second too long on Chan before snapping back to you. “You know exactly who. I wanted to make sure you were still taking care of your playground and the kids. We’ll talk soon again.”

Without another word, he looked up and down at you with disdain and just spun on his heel and walked out the heavy front doors.

This is not right.

A cold realization made your stomach drop. “Chan,” you called out quietly, walking behind the bar as calm as ever, your voice dropping its playful edge. “Something’s wrong, that was an AZT rat, you need to clear the area and try to get the rest here, just don’t be too obvious, okay?”

“Right,” Chan’s posture is instantly stiffening. “Sora said that guy came here like three times yesterday and waited almost till they closed. She’s now in the back office, don’t worry. I’ll check outside, please Noona do not go outside, you got your gun right?”

“Of course,” you smiled fondly. You could see it, behind that whole tough streetfighter kid, he was just trying to look out for everyone. “Now go.”

Nodding he walked to the front of the bar, the noise people chatting and dancing, disguised Chan’s worry and intent on checking if there’s more men to be cautious about. He needed to get the guys that had been on the other side of the street back here.

No, Seungcheol did not feel comfortable with just Chan around, he gives him credit for his street fight skills and he is perfectly capable of taking care of you and all, but this isn’t just a little fight, and it is not a one on one fight, a whole mafia is looking a way to get their hands on you, you’ve murdered and messed with their “team” so one man won’t be enough.

Chan knew this, so he’d been also in charge of planning everything with his brothers, Soonyoung and Jun had been disguised right across the street, chatting at a local restaurant.

Inside the bar, you were already on edge, adjusting your gun on your thigh, and ears perked up aware of every little sound, the words and abrupt leave of that man were bad news, and you knew it. Which is why the small but sharp, muffled gasp cut through the jazz music making you turn towards the entrance of the private rooms, it was loud enough for you to hear, but not enough to make others turn.

Through the dim lighting, you saw a figure dressed entirely in black. He wasn't exceptionally tall, but he was broad and heavy enough to completely pin Haewon against the wood paneled wall. To the drunken crowd on the dance floor, it looked like a couple having a private moment, but you saw the truth immediately and you felt your blood run cold.

The man shifted, and the glint of a silver blade now very visible to you. He had a knife pressed firmly against the soft skin of Haewon’s throat. A single thin line of red was already forming where the metal was pressed firmly on her skin.

“Don’t scream, sweetheart,” the man hissed, his eyes then tracking you as you stepped closer. “Ah, Miss Cherry. Pleasure to meet you. Walk closer. Quietly. If you reach down for that gun, I’ll open her up right here.” The man nodded towards your leg with a smug smirk, he was already lusting over your body and as always, you felt the need to puke.

You were trapped. The distance was too far for you to get your gun out fast, and even if you did, the knife would cut her before your bullet could hit his brain. You can not afford risking Haewoon’s life.

“Let her go,” you said, your voice remarkably steady, though your heart was pounding. You took a slow, deliberate step toward him. “You want me, right darlin’? Mhm, the guy I put down a few days ago—what, was he your boyfriend? You boys take things so personally. It’s adorable.”

The man’s face contorted in rage. “Shut your mouth bitch! Take your gun and knife out, I know you have one. Don’t you dare try something or I swear to god I’ll cut her head off.”

To prove his point, his hand moved too fast. Haewon let out a strangled sob as the man sliced the knife into her forearm, blood quickly soaking through her pale lace sleeve.

“Stop, stop!” you commanded, raising your hands in the air, your sarcastic mask completely dropping. “Alright look, look! I’m taking it out. Don’t touch her.”

With two fingers, you carefully reached into your skirt, pulled out the small pistol and  the knife letting it fall to the ground with a soft thud. “Just, take me instead. I’m the one you and your damn boss want. She’s a nobody, Let her go, and I’ll walk out that door with you right now.”

“A nobody you apparently care about, sweetheart” The man grinned, a nasty. Creepy disgusting smile.

“Come on now, don’t waste your time on her, unless you want to face your boss on how you lost me because you had a good time with a waitress.” You taunted him, “I mean, she is beautiful but she’s not what Hongjoong wants.” The man looked at you with pure hatred. He shoved Haewon hard against the wall, causing her to slide to the floor, clutching her bleeding arm. He grabbed your wrist with a strong grip already causing a bruise as he now twisted your arm behind your back shoving you toward the heavy wooden exit at the back towards the alley.

“Enough, move bitch,” he growled forcing you to walk.

As he pushed you outside, you could see someone come around the corner of the alley, it was Chan, he quickly lifted his gun pointing at the man behind you.

“Let her go, now!” Chan shouted, but before he could even take one more step a second man approached from behind a car

Bang! Bang!

The man fired and Chan followed instantly, he fired twice not able to hit him but then, with terrifying precision and before the man holding you could even fire, Chan shoot two times. The bullets tore into the man’s right shoulder, a few inches and he would’ve shot through his heart. This allowed the man by the car to shoot back, the bullets still missed Chan, smashing into the brick wall behind him, but right at that exact second, the back door flew open again. Haewon stumbled out into the alley, pale, bleeding, and screaming your name, both men took it as a chance to get in the car. The first one holding his shoulder tightly and in visible pain, he had long forgotten his gun, the second one had thrown you inside like if you were a trash bag.

“Haewon, get back inside!” Chan yelled. His instinct to protect the civilian made Chan jump in front of Haewon to push her back into the safety of the building.

The man turned on the car and quickly stepped on the gas pedal, the tires screeching against the wet gravel of the alley taking off towards the main avenue.

Chan ran after the car for half a block, his face twisted in pure, unadulterated fury and terror, a little too late, his backup ran towards him cursing and throwing hands already.

“Damn it!” he screamed, slamming his fist against an iron lamp post.

“What the hell happened Chan!” Jun exclaimed a little out of breath catching up to him “Fuck.”

“Chan, we have to go back to the mansion” Soonyoung said a little to calm, but Chan knew it was to not alarm him, he knew what this meant. ATZ had you now, and Seungcheol was going to burn the entire city to the ground when he finds out and Chan feared he’d be the first to be burned.

New Strategy

The interior of the old car smelled awfully cheap, you couldn’t even hide the disgust on your face. In a very messy way, the men had managed to tie your wrists with a very used rope, questionable dirty. You didn’t say anything, didn’t make a sound. You kept your chin high, staring straight at the back of the driver’s head already plotting if he’d take the honors when you put a bullet there.

Even with that confidence you always carry or with this wish to shoot the men who had taken you, a part of you—a big part of you— was terrified, nervous wreck and wanted to cry.

You couldn’t show that.

Calm the fuck down. You told yourself, your heart was beating too fast, palms were already starting to sweat and you were shaking probably.

But you can’t show that. Not yet. Being weak and with fear is just a death sentence with bastards like them. Though this could go two ways, you could play the damsel in distress, beg for forgiveness and protection. OR you could have fun with them, even if it is your last day in this world because of it.

You chose to have fun, they do deserve it.

To them, this was a kidnapping of the Choi’s canary, his little love. To you it wasn’t exactly that, you took this as an invitation to a house party, and you are the VIP guest.

How will this party go? Well, you had every intention of tearing them apart from the inside. What’s that saying? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?

Also, you’re now a drop of poison, one that spreads quietly and no one will notice until is too late. You’re planning on taking down the entire foundation a family built. If you can call it a family…

The moment the car finally stopped in front of a modest, two-floors brick house tucked away in a quiet corner you bit your lip trying not to laugh.

This was ATZ’s low-profile Manhattan safehouse, it surprised you but also didn’t. ATZ were known to be chaotic at investing, even though their Boss had the charm to “take” cargo and manage “good business” (not mentioning the fuck up they did to your father’s business) you would’ve imagined a better safehouse. Better car, men dressed better and not a car that smells way too cheap to being a mafia car.

This house was a joke, but you can work with this.

“Get out, bimbo.” The man that was bleeding opened the door, he didn’t even wait for you to step out, he dragged you with his good hand “Jongho, drive the car to Yeosang’s house.” At that you snorted causing the man to hold your arm tighter “Quiet bitch,”

“Wooyoung, let Hyung deal with her first.” Wooyoung hissed once he tried to move you again, his shoulder was still slowly bleeding from the two holes Chan had put in his shoulder.

“Wooyoung, pretty name darling.” You spoke with that soft alluring tone you’d always use with men. He only made a noise close to a growl holding you way too tightly by your elbow and you could see it. He was sweating, his face now a little pale with pain and maybe panic. Well he was losing blood, certainly panic is the feeling you should have.

“In. Move, damn it.” he hissed, shoving you through a heavy oak door.

The moment the door slammed shut, you didn’t look for an exit. You examined the house, every detail would work if you wanted to hit the nail. You let out a soft, mocking sigh, inspecting everything. “A bit small for mafia headquarters, isn’t it?” you hummed when he simply shoved you to a small room, he was still holding his shoulder and you could tell he was in severe pain. “So, Wooyoung—it is Wooyoung, right?— Darling you need to get that checked. Does Hongjoong actually pay you enough to take two bullets for him, or are you just fond of losing blood?”

Wooyoung froze, but his annoyance showed, followed by the pain. “You should shut up if you want to stay alive.”

“I’m just saying. I mean, come on darling am I worth two bullets—by the way millimeters to the right and you’re gone— your safety should be a priority you know. What kind of family does this?”

“You don’t know anything about us” his voice was low, intended to scare you. “Talk about family, where’s your dear love? He let you out without much of a short ass fella as back up. Good aim, I give him that.”

“At least he did shot something, bubbles over there didn’t even land one.” You rolled your eyes tilting your head you looked at his shoulder “Your boss should really help you, if he cared enough he should be here with you by now. You need to get that checked darling.” Your voice was soft, like you cared. Which certainly you don’t, but that he shouldn’t know.

Wooyoung coughed, causing a sharp pain go through his shoulder. “Fuck,”

“Darling, seriously get that checked. Look I’m obviously not going anywhere, but if you don’t get that—” you sighed in disapproval “it’s going to get worse. Your leader should be here, taking care of you, where’s the medic? Where is he? Most importantly, why is he not worried one of his men has been shot? I mean word goes fast. I’m wondering if Jongho is with him already telling him how he captured Miss Cherry.”

You could see the exact moment doubt, anger and not so surprisingly jealousy, was inviding his thoughts. The seed had been planted, now it’s time to carefully keep it growing.

His jaw twitched, his eyes flicking toward the closed doors. He was anxious, irritated, and entirely in pain.

“Darling, I might’ve been a menace and a bitch at first. But god that looks nasty—”

Before you could say more and he could answer, the doors swung open, Yeosang was there. His face was a mask of coldness and the moment his eyes dropped to your unmasked face, fury was rising. He then looked at Wooyoung’s bloody arm.

“Well, least you brought her.” Yeosang said, his voice flat. He walked right to you, he was squaring up, as if he wanted to strike you across the face. All for the man you had killed two nights ago, you were curious now. Really, were they secret lovers? Cause that man certainly was not gay. Maybe he’s into both, whatever it is, Yeosang’s blood was boiling at the mere sight of you “You’re as cheap as I imagined.” He spat with so much hatred that you fought your need to mock him.

“I got shot, where’s Hongjoong, I need a medic.” Wooyoung interrupted your stare battle with Yeosang, causing him to roll his eyes.

“He’s going to be back in 20 min.”

“20 min— What the fuck I don’t have 20 minutes!” Wooyoung was on the edge of freaking out properly.

“You’re going to be fine, keep pressure on it. I’ll tell Jongho to bring something to clean that up in the meantime” he dismissed so beautifully Wooyoung’s pain, a fresh nerve to hit next.

You tilted your head as a small, very audible scoff left your lips. “Well, first the risk at the bar and then the health? Your leader does not care about his own family.” your voice dropping to a dangerously soft whisper. “You’re angry at me cause I killed your friend, but come on darling, who let him in that bar without backup? I mean, Hongjoong let him go alone. I honestly think that was careless. I mean, one more man one less man, it does not make a difference in this team. Does it?”

Yeosang’s heart was pounding, his breathing uneaven as he stared at you, fists ready to strike a hit and his anger was building but also colliding with the uncomfortable truth your words had. Hongjoong didn’t care.

Yeosang knew it, he simply tried to not acknowledge it and fully blame you cause it was the best and most logical thing, you were the one who pulled the trigger. Hongjoong was at fault too, he knew the feud, the family was going through a rough patch, he should’t have been left alone, San shouldn’t have been left alone.

You were tearing them down, brick by brick, soft words to make them doubt, make them feel this unsettling truth. It is a shame the poisonous seed has grown too fast. God, it already stuck two nerves and all of it before you even reached the main room.

Back at the Choi mansion, the atmosphere was thick enough to choke.

The heavy doors of the study opened with a harsh thud as Chan burst inside, his white apron covered in Haewon’s blood, The girls followed Soonyoung as he led them to the side. Sora was pale from head to toe and a bandaged, sobbing Haewon followed close behind.

“Boss,” Chan choked out, his face a pale and with guilt and adrenaline Seungcheol looked at him and knew something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Chan rarely called him boss, anyone really, but specially him. Chan also rarely had come with bad news and when he did his face would be entirely filled with frustration and disgust. Right now, Chan looked seconds away from fainting.

“They took her. ATZ. I hit one of them twice, but...” he looked back at Haewon who looked at Seungcheol and lowered her head “The girls were also in danger, everything happened too fast, I had to cover Haewoon but then I lost— I’m so sorry, they got Y/n. I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.” With that, Chan’s legs completely gave up and fell to his knees.

The silence that followed was terrifying.

Seungcheol didn’t move for a whole minute that felt like hours. He sat behind his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes locked onto Chan, a trembling war could be seen. So many emotions fighting to make an appareace. Anger, pure rage, fear and dreadful scenarios of you somewhere alone or de…

Seungcheol shook his head gently, he was too calm. For a split second, everyone in the room was expecting the Boss to pull his gun and paint the wall with Chan’s blood.

Seungcheol took a slow, heavy breath, regulating the explosive, terrifying rage vibrating in his chest that he would’ve let out in no time.

But when he looked at Haewon’s bandaged arm, Sora’s pale face scared out of her mind and then Chan on his knees trembling with fear and guilt. He just couldn’t.

Seungcheol could be many things, he’s a killer with no hesitation. He is merciless boss, he does not care who ends up hurt in the process of doing business, he can and is deathly.

There’s something else.

Seungcheol is a family man

He can be a danger in the streets, business, illegal shipments and fights. But he still has a duty to help his family, and his family comes first every time.

He believes in Chan, and despite his heart being torn in every painful way because you’re now in danger, he knows Chan did what he could. But he also knows something else is there.

“Stand up, Chan,” Seungcheol said, his voice low and terrifyingly calm “You protected the girls. Y/n will be relieved and thankful for that. And that’s why I know this is not entirely your fault Chan, Y/n complied with them because she wanted the girls safe. We all know what she’s capable of, she is not a helpless girl. I know for sure she let them take her, she knew exactly what she was doing. She just changed the damn plan.”

Chan stood up, still fearing Seungcheol would hit him or kill him in the spot “Still, I should’ve stayed, aimed better and kill those bastards—”

“Enough, what’s done is done, we can’t change that. We have to focus on this situation now. Chan, we’ll talk about this later. Stop worrying I’m not going to kill you.” Seungcheol spoke while walking over to the massive wall map of Manhattan.

He knew you. He knew that even if you didn’t have your gun, you would’ve break free from them.

He also knew what the plan would be now. You’re not only a great shooter, you had your sharp tongue and reckless courage. So, he knew that was your weapon. He knew you were doing your own damage now, he just had to follow that plan on the outside.

Seungcheol figured how you had taken this opportunity to be closer and do your own damage. His heart aching with a terrifying mixture of pride and pure panic.

You’re playing mind games with them, aren’t you, sweetheart?

“Cheol, I have a new plan.” Seungcheol hummed, his eyes burning into the map. Jeonghan adjusted his own tie. He was also annoyed, mostly because he hated seeing his brother like this. “If my predictions are correct, they are going to send some kind of message, threats using her as the bait.”

“If they are smart enough to dig about it.” Jihoon mumbled.

“They will. It is not normal for a Choi member to defend a woman working as a Hostess.” Wonwoo answered, he shook his head and with a long sigh.

In that moment, like a prediction Seungcheol did not want, an ATZ member had been sent to give information about you. How they had been tracking you as Y/n and Miss Cherry, Hongjoong had found how it did tied you up with Seungcheol.

“So, they do think she is my weakness.”

“And we’re going to let them believe it.” Jeonghan replied “They are reckless, Hongjoong just sent one of his men to us like he’s disposable. We need to let him think he’s got the upper hand, let him think he’s gaining power.”

“If he thinks he’s got you cornered, they’ll get sloppy,” Wonwoo advised, taking off his glasses as he leaned over the desk. “While Hongjoong is busy gloating and staring at you thinking he’s got you, he won’t be looking anywhere else.”

“Interesting,” Seungcheol caught up to what he was implying, “We’ll be a distraction.”

“Yes.”

Seungcheol’s dark smirk was growing, and that only meant one thing. He was already planning the next move. There will be a backup team, they will stay hidden, in the shadows, practically invisible. The rest of the members will take advantage of this breech and take every shipment and business, burn their warehouses and take down their entire operation down by the river. While they’re holding you down and making a show for Seungcheol. All their worth will be taken down.

Jeonghan is right, ATZ had gone mad and their greed made everything worse.

Mind Games Before Showtime

You don’t know exactly how long you’ve been here, but God you are bored, it’s starting to be annoying.

Hongjoong had been delaying meeting you simply to play a game. He sat behind a small mahogany desk, at a very small office. He had a glass of whiskey next to his cheap ashtray.

This place was suffocating you.

Finally, Wooyoung was instructed to take you to Hongjoong, so he tried his best to “drag” you into the small office, with his good arm.

The moment you entered the ‘office’ your presence completely changed the mood. You were unbothered by everything and Hongjoong was eager to meet you thinking this would be fun.

You stood with your shoulders squared, not daring to show how anxious you were. You kept looking at Hongjoong with an expression that showed absolute boredom.

“So, you’re the boss? Mr.— whatever.” you rolled your eyes, a mocking tilt to your lips as you glanced around the modest room. “I must say, I expected more… class from the man trying to start a war in Manhattan. This looks like my late grandmother’s house”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. Miss Cherry.” Hongjoong leaned forward, his eyes scanning you. “But, you certainly are a beauty Miss Y/n, I can see why Seungcheol is so into you and why he’s weak for you. I have his beautiful possession.”

You let out a soft, mocking laugh, stepping closer to the desk without hesitation. He wasn’t going to objectify you nor make fun of you. “Possession? Oh, darling, you really don’t understand how this world works, do you?” You turned around to look at the man who was standing too stiff at the door looking at you as if he was planning your murder. You looked at the other man who still looked in pain.

 “Let me tell you a secret about your sweet Hongjoong boys, he thinks everyone is an object to be traded. He thinks you are objects too. I mean, he let your friend die at The Diamond, and he’s going to use you as target practice while he tries to trade his way without even talking to you. Do you even care about them boss?”

“Shut her up, Wooyoung.” Hongjoong snapped, his face darkening as he saw Wooyoung shift uncomfortably on his feet. The man was clutching his poorly bandaged shoulder, his brow furrowed as your words were hitting bulls’ eye on his doubts as a family.

“Why? Afraid they’ll realize you don’t actually have a plan for them?” you taunted, leaning your palms flat against the chair in front of his desk staring him dead in the eye. “You think you’re going to get Seungcheol but oh boy, you’re in for a surprise”

“The one that should be prepared is you darling. I’m not going to let you go so easily.” He leaned back, he still felt in charge which made it hard for you to contain your laughter “I know who you are Lee y/n, you’re just as nosy as your father.”

That hit a nerve in you, but right now you need to stay strong and not give in. Just like you did minutes ago, he’s trying to rage bait you. He can’t and you won’t give him that.

“Am I? Well, I certainly am a curious person.”

“Just like he was and look where he is now. Dead, stiff and buried and well deserved. That old man was giving me a headache, he was sick and useless either way. Better dead than getting in my way.” Hongjoong smirked, every second that passes you tried to calm yourself and not react. “If you don’t shut up and behave, you’d be meeting him soon.”

“Well, either way I am not the one to be afraid of dying. You however, have no way of wining if you kill me. You and your boys are in for a treat if you do. You guys know right? Just like his pretty head is looking for a trade, if things go south you’ll be the first to go down. Think your pretty boss will protect you? He’d throw you to the lions first.”

“You certainly do not know when to shut up.” Hongjoong stood up as he walked around his desk to stand next to you he roughly grabbed your face holding your chin up. “Mmhm, I’m starting to consider keeping you baby. Are you this fierce in bed? If so, we’re going to have so much fun.”

The mere thought was disgusting to you, he’s young and stupid. “Oh I am, but you’ll be dead if you try, so I strongly advise you not to try any funny business with me darling.” You swatted his hand away, pure hatred ran through your veins now.

“Who decides what happens is me. For now, consider yourself lucky, bimbo. We’re going to meet your prince later if I feel like it. Take this whore away.” Hongjoong spat as he walked back to his chair, he raised an eyebrow when he saw Wooyoung not moving like Yeosang who instantly grabbed your arm with a grip that will definitely leave another bruise. “What?”

“My arm is killing me, I need a doctor, Hong—”

“Tell Jongho about that, and fix it yourself, it doesn’t look that bad so stop whining” you had to do everything in your power to stop yourself from smirking. Unknowingly he was destroying his team. You just needed another ten minutes with Wooyoung and this will go down perfectly.

As you expected, you were placed in a crappy room with an old couch and very dirty curtains covering the small windows. The walls were a hideous yellow color only making your head hurt. The smell, god you can’t even begin to explain how old and how much of humidity filled the room.

True to your own prediction, Wooyoung walked in after a few minutes followed by Yeosang.

“Are you here to keep me company? I thought you hated me dear.”

“Shut up bitch, you’re lucky he ordered us not to touch you. Fuck, you’d be death if it was up to me.”

“I know, you’re so angry because I killed your buddy.” You smiled, softly now changing your voice “I am actually sorry. Sorry that it had to be your friend. Honestly I didn’t killed him if I didn’t had a reason. Sorry to inform that your buddy was a very naughty man who didn’t take no for an answer.”

“You think I believe you? San would never pay attention at a cheap whore like you. God knows how many used your pussy.” He spat full of venom and hatred in his eyes.

“Hey, be respectful.” You pointed at him. Many thought that way of you and what you did, but you were not going to take it from him. “Let’s not go that way, cause the way you’re reacting only confirms my thoughts, you’re so fucking Gay. It’s not a bad thing. Just careful, Hongjoong doesn’t seem the man who wants someone like that on his oh so called team.”

“I am not a faggot you bitch!” Yeosang was ready to put a hand on you, so far to keep your plan going you were not going to fight back, but this time you need to defend yourself.

That was long forgotten when Wooyoung stopped him. With a loud hiss due to his bloody arm he stood in front of Yeosang.

“Don’t. Hongjoong is going to take care of that slut.”

“Look, I’m sorry okay? But you started it.” You rolled your eyes sitting on the awkward old bed. “I don’t judge, I have customers at the bar going there for a free time with their own partners, so it’s okay. I am sorry I killed your friend. ButI mean it though, be careful.”

“With what, whores like yourself?”

“No, with a boss like yours.” You scoffed “you guys seriously are working for the worst boss I’ve ever known. Look at you! Wooyoung your arm keeps bleeding, you got a bullet in there and he did not care, if Sector 17 doesn’t kill you that bullet will. And you, if he finds that you like men, damn… are you hundred percent sure he’d be okay with that? How are you safe with him? All I see is a man who wants power and does not care who gets hurt in the process, not even the men who take a bullet for him.”

Seungcheol is getting impatient.

Hongjoong has been taking his fucked time to indeed torture him, more like pissing him off each minute that passes.

After a few hours of you missing, a man that reached Sector17, gave the location for this reunion. Seungcheol had done everything, secured the place, the shadows and the team is already taking one by one the docks and more. The only thing left is meeting him.

Jeonghan had predicted this, Hongjoong’s idea of taking you as a bait, as an exchange for power.

Hongjoong wasn’t entirely stupid, he put two and two together, did his own research when he realized someone was messing with his ports and sabotaging his cargo, he had spent days trying to find who you were. It took him a little longer than Seungcheol, but he found you and connected the dots. Seungcheol’s sweetheart, had been left alone to survive this world, after her father died thanks to him, her mother committed suicide and her sister leaving, you were all alone.

Seungcheol’s sweetheart might be worth something. If not, he could always keep her or kill her. A win win somehow.

“Please calm down and stop moving,” Jeonghan groaned from the passenger seat, Seungcheol had parked a few feet away from the abandoned warehouse Hongjoong had claimed to meet. Convenient for what is going to happen. No noise, no cops no nothing.

“My woman is inside that fucking warehouse without a weapon and you expect me to be calm?” Seungcheol growled almost hitting Jeonghan.

“Alright. Man, you’re so lovesick Cheol.”

“I’m not… lovesick”

“You are! Cheol, you’re a mafia boss ready to kill a bastard just because he took your woman.” Jeonghan chuckled and tilted his head at the memory of you by Seungcheol’s side at his office “I don’t blame you, she’s wonderful.”

“I know she is.”

“And she’s smart Cheol. She’s doing her own thing in there, if she wasn’t they would have delivered her body to your feet already” Jeonghan scoffed, he didn’t know you entirely, but he saw that fire, that sassy mouth of yours. And he knows you’re smarter than they give you credit.

“I know she is. I know that, but I still worry. For fuck sakes I know she’s capable, fearless but she’s still a woman. One woman against at least five men, I love her I know she’s smart but still, they are stronger than her they could—”

“Let’s not think about that.” Jeonghan interrupted him before he could spiral any further.

Knowing how this world works, it’s so easy to predict what is going on there, to make their guesses on what he could be doing to you, it is easy to know that you indeed are weak against a mafia in any sort of physical fight. You might’ve taken down four men alone, but it was one by one.

Mingyu had already given the signal of everything being ready. Jun and Minghao were hidden waiting for the opportunity. Soonyoung was alert and Mingyu was watching the perimeter. It was time for Seungcheol and Jeonghan to get there.

“Wooyoung, hey look at me.” You said softly, a clear worry in your voice throwing him off guard “Please, let me look at that wound. I promise I’ll behave.”

“No.” Wooyoung hissed as he put more pressure on that poorly bandaged arm. He was now considering her help. It’s been two hours and the adrenaline had rushed down already and the pain was starting to be too much for him.

“I’m surprisingly worried about you. That wound does not look good. Seriously, is Hongjoong not going to do anything to help you?”

“I’m getting tired of you .” Yeosang spat crossing his arms “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you with my bare hands” his voice lower than you’ve heard so far. But no ounce of authority or threat made its way to you.

“I’m simply stating the facts Yeosang.” You tucked a lose hair behind your ear “He’s there back in his office with the other… men who funny enough know more about this marvelous plan. All calm, maybe even having a drink. While Wooyoung here is in agonizing pain and you’re watching the woman who killed your… friend. Honestly fellas, this has to be the worst leader.”

It was starting to work. The more you expressed the things Hongjoong did, the more they started to believe them. These two were vulnerable, and you had that in your favor. A man can be lethal with force, their bodies. But a woman can be lethal with words.

That is exactly what you were doing, being this poisonous woman, with sweet voice, with such ‘care’. You were now making them feel like they’re more valuable than their boss give them credit for.

Cause, what kind of leader lets their men, their family, die for a woman? For power in this reckless way? Where’s the loyalty, the brotherhood?

The door of the room opened with force, such a dramatic entrance.

“We’re going to see your boyfriend. Let’s see how brave you are when he’s on his knees next to you. I’m going to enjoy watching him beg me to not kill this pretty whore.”

“If I were you, I’d worry less about him on his knees, Hongjoong.” you whispered, your voice dropping into a sinister calm register. “You should focus more about saving your own neck.”

“I might actually miss this sassy mouth,” he said in a voice that for once send a sickening feeling “I am seriously considering not giving you up. You are beautiful, tempting.” He was looking at you differently now. Why now?

“You should be careful, i strongly advice you to stop.”

“And I strongly do not give a fuck, bitch. I gotta admit, you do smell good” He groaned. Walking too close to you he grabbed your face squeezing your cheeks, he got closer and took a deep breath, he was taking in your scent like if you were a drug “but you need to learn that your place is to obey. Fuck, you do look like a slut, I wonder if he’d still want you if I get my sweet time with you.”

“You are disgusting,” now you were slightly shaking. Behind this persona, behind the mask of you being a sassy bitch taunting them, you were a little scared.

“Careful, I might change my mind and actually keep you.” He growled and grabbed your arm forcefully “let’s go bitch.”

You knew that no matter where you were, Seungcheol had a plan, you already knew Sector17 was hidden, near and ready to shoot. If one thing you admire from Seungcheol is the way he handles things, he’s obvious for the mafia world but very cautious with the rest of the world, the good authorities and civilians.

Hongjoong stood in the center of the empty room, and you dare to say he looked anxious. He had Wooyoung by his side, though the man looked incredibly unstable. Not only because his wound was still untreated properly, because he was hyper aware of the surroundings.

You did not only plant hatred you also threw the reality of it all to them, fear of what’s going to happen, what you know and they don’t. Though it could be like giving them a heads up, you were careful enough to say it in a way that as much as they wanted to ignore, made them second guess stability, money, security and just about everything out of fear.

Yeosang stood just a pace behind them, holding you by the arm with a sweaty hand. You could feel the way he was alert of everything, like you told them, there’s always something they’ll miss.

 You were unmasked, and even if you had lost all glamour, you stayed composed, with poise like you were a queen waiting for her king to get her home.

You had faked a yawn, your eyes tracking the tremor in Wooyoung’s hands. “You know, Wooyoung” you murmured, your voice carrying effortless fake concern mixed with a taunting tone “A real leader wuld’ve had a doctor look at that shoulder by now. But I suppose Hongjoong thinks a bit of gauze and a prayer is enough for you. I guess he likes his men to bleed for him.”

“Shut your mouth, bitch.” Yeosang hissed, giving your arm a warning shake.

“Both of you shut up” Wooyoung suddenly snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of pure exhaustion and pain. He spun toward Hongjoong, his brow furrowed in deep concern about this. “Hongjoong, seriously. What good is this meeting? We’re standing in a stupid warehouse with a whore, for what? What is the actual pay here?”

Hongjoong waved a dismissive, impatient hand, a smug, smile. “Calm the fuck down, we’re trading her. Seungcheol is going to hand over the distribution lines, the property deeds, and all the territory we need. We trade the whore, we get the power. It’s a simple transaction.”

“What is she made of gold? Fucking hell this is just a woman” Wooyoung was looking at you with disgust but you could see the fear and doubt about this ‘perfect’ plan. “It does not make sense. Why would-”

“Are you questioning me?” Hongjoong turned to him with annoyance at his assumption "This is going to be a trade. Seungcheol is going to do whatever i say or else, i'll kill her, worst case scenario we keep her and have our way with her."

“Good luck with that.” letting out a sharp, mocking laugh that cut through the small silence. “He’s lying to all of you and he’s incredibly inconsiderate. I bet he’s going to use this trade to line his own pockets and leave you two to take the fight when the Choi family comes back for blood. But I’m sure this is going to end badly for you. Very badly.”

Before Hongjoong could tell you anything else, the heavy wooden doors at the far end clicked open.

Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed against the concrete. Seungcheol stepped into the pale light, his long overcoat brushing against his boots, his expression entirely deathly. This was not Cheol you knew, this was Choi Seungcheol, the one ready to kill the goddamn parasite that has been bothering him since day one.

Beside him, Jeonghan walked with his hands tucked casually into his trousers, a sharp smirk playing on his lips. You found it funny, it didn’t even look like they were meeting with a mafia to rescue a hostage.

The tension in the room instantly spiked, it felt thick enough to almost be suffocating. Hongjoong immediately shifted, trying to project absolute control while his own men were still openly questioning his authority behind him.

Seungcheol’s eyes swept the room, and automatically found you. A sigh of relief left his chest after seeing you breathing and unharmed, but his dark brows immediately furrowed in a fierce, protective scowl. Your dark velvet dress was a little revealing—not too much, but enough to expose the skin of your collarbone and shoulders to the damp cold of the river air. You could see the way his jaw locked, he was furious that you were cold, he was furious you were in this shit hole and he wanted to end this clown immediately.

“You’re late, Choi,” Hongjoong called out, trying to mask his own nervousness with some sort of sarcastic confidence.

“I don’t like rushing into bad business, Hongjoong”  Seungcheol replied, his voice a low, terrifying threat. It was a tone you’ve never heard him talk with, and it was very distracting, cause your body was reacting to it. Fortunately, no one would notice it.

But in other circumstances, you’d probably be on your knees.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with pure, malicious amusement as he picked up the word play. “Oh, look at that, Cheol,” Jeonghan chuckled, a smooth, poisonous mocking tone “The big, bad ATZ mafia, wants to take control but they can’t even afford to treat a small bullet wound for one of his best soldiers. They really think they can manage the northern territories? It’s hilarious, really funny.” he added, looking directly at Hongjoong, “delusion is a very unflattering treat on you.”

“I see we got another talker.” Hongjoong growled, his face was slowly turning crimson as the insults poked at his fragile ego. He moved slightly towards you and grabbed your face, a smirk appeared through his frustration. He turned to look at Seungcheol and the grin grew bigger when he saw the way his jaw tightened at his movement. “You think you’re in a position to mock me? I’ll take her away right now. I’ll keep her locked up in my safehouse, have my fun with her, and maybe let my boys use her until she understands her place and stops talking back at a man. Gotta tell you, I am loving the idea of it. Put her mouth to good use and relax.”

Seungcheol took an aggressive step forward, his knuckles turning white as he nearly fell for the infuriating bait. Jeonghan placed a hand in Seungcheol’s shoulder and just laughed, louder this time, his voice cutting through his bluff. “Honestly, I’d love to see you try but I have say, you are in no place to relax when you’re flat broke with no properties.”

Hongjoong blinked, his grip tightening on your arm. “What the hell are you talking about faggot?”

“Whoa, faggot? I mean I can take it as a compliment,” he looked amused by everything happening, he locked eyes with you and you raised an eyebrow then turning to Yeosang, a knowing click happened in Jeonghan’s brain “I mean, that’s how you talk to your brother over there? Dude, that’s messed up, you should respect. Love is love right? Let him be.”

“What? No one in my damn family is a faggot like you,” you scoffed and give Yeosang a knowing smile, Hongjoong turned to him ar that moment, he was now a pretty deep shade of red, you don’t know if it is embarrassing red or furious red. “I’ll deal with you later. Right now, you should pay for your sweetheart.” he turned to look back at Seungcheol

“You definitely are more stupid than I thought.” Seungcheol snarled, doing his best to control his temper, his eyes burning into him. “While you gathered your strongest men here to play a trade game, you left your cargo and business on the hands of weak idiots. My brothers have already burned your warehouses, your liquor cargo are in my trucks, and your financial ledgers are on my desk by now. Sector 17 has officially taken everything you’re worth.”

Wooyoung and Yeosang both froze, the color now draining from their facesv as they tried to make sense of what Seungcheol just revealed.

It was impossible, the member dealing with all financial shit was the best they knew, they trusted him completely he was enough to hold his own.

“Is that true?” Yeosang barked, completely abandoning his posture and even forgetting the exposure Jeonghan did, he confronted his boss. “You said we had this secured!”

“They’re lying you fucking idiot!” Hongjoong screamed, his voice cracking in utter panic. Throwing you towards Yeosang with a deathly look “Take her away—”

Suddenly, the side doors flew open, and two more ATZ men busted into the warehouse, their faces pale and covered in sweat. “Boss!” one of them shouted, his chest heaving. “We’re being hit, The perimeter outside is completely locked down by Sector 17— Kim and Kwon are tearing our guys apart!”

“What the fuck is happening Hongjoong!"

Seungcheol let out a cold, humorless chuckle. “It’s already over”

“No.” Hongjoong growled, completely losing his mind to a psychotic rage. He spun around, pointing wildly at you. “Take her away! You two idiots, kill them right now!” he screamed at the men his attempt to take control was amusing to you.

Seungcheol and Jeonghan both exhaled a breath, collectively trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the order. But before anyone could pull a trigger, a crash from the docks outside echoed outside the warehouse caused a small distraction.

Small, but enough for you to finally do something. In that split second, you moved.

You violently twisted your arm, freeing yourself from Yeosang’s loosened grip. Without missing a beat, you slammed your fist directly into Wooyoung’s bleeding shoulder injury before he could move to try and stop you. He screamed in absolute agony stumbling backwards, and you took the chance to swiftly take his own revolver straight out of his hand. You held it and pointed at them in a fraction of a second.

Bang! Bang!

You shot Yeosang directly on each thigh and Wooyoung in the knee, completely immobilizing them both as they crashed to the concrete, groaning in pain.

At the same time Seungcheol and Jeonghan had moved like one, their guns already shooting as they dealt with the two other men before they could even level their guns.

Hongjoong panicked, but before he could take his own gun out or even take a step towards the exit, a shadow dropped silently, Minghao landed gracefully in his path, his hand striking Hongjoong’s chest with enough force to choke him to take advantage and slam his fist on his face followed by his foot on his stomach throwing him backward onto the hard concrete. Minghao raised his foot, ready to beat him once again.

“Minghao, Stop!” you commanded, your voice loud and with enough force that echoed through the entire warehouse.

Minghao froze, his foot hovering inches from Hongjoong’s face

“Bring him to me,” you ordered, your voice dropping into a terrifying, sinister tone.

You were gone the second you took the gun from Wooyoung, you knew this was it. This was the moment you were so eagerly waiting for.

Hongjoong was on the floor, helpless and you were standing with a gun in your hand ready to make him pay for your own pain.

Minghao quietly obeyed, not even looking at Seungcheol. Somehow, you were looking more terrifying than him right now.

He was slightly concerned, just like Seungcheol was, but he did what you asked, grabbing Hongjoong by his collar and dragging him across the floor, Minghao threw him down at your feet like a piece of meat.

You stood over him, the revolver heavy in your hand, the pure, cold vengeance anger were visible in your eyes.

Everyone saw the way you were no longer Miss Cherry, god you were no longer Y/n, you were a woman with hatred in her blood ready to end the worthless man that lays by her feet.

“Well, well. Look at you darling. It suits you, on the floor on your knees in front of a woman.” The venom in your voice was overwhelming “You said you remember my father. You really thought you’ll get away with killing him and that I wouldn’t do something about it.”

The memories about that day, the ovewhelming feelings of loss, sadness, frustration, anger, all of it coming back at once. Having the man responsible for your father's death right there defensless useless and just there boils your blood.

Hongjoong spat a mouthful of blood onto your shoes, glaring up at you with wild, pathetic defiance. “You’re just a cheap, masked whore, nothing more.” he wheezed, insulting you through his teeth. “Useless like your stupid father—”

Bang!

A deafening crack echoed through the warehouse. You shot him directly in the groin, the bullet ripping straight through his dick.

Hongjoong let out an ear wrecking scream of pure agony, curling into a tight, trembling ball as blood pooled rapidly beneath his trousers. Every man in the room winced at the scene, you were not bothered by it in the slightest. Not even his whining and painful cries stopped this feeling of pure disgust towards him.

You slowly knelt down to his level, your face a mask of cold, psychotic malice. You reached out, your fingers wrapping forcefully around his jaw, twisting his face upward so he was forced to look into your merciless eyes. “You messed with the wrong family, with the wrong woman. I’m going to enjoy this.” You smiled, but there was nothing sweet about it. No, this was the smile of a deadly, mad woman toying with her prey.

“You are a pathetic piece of trash,” you whispered venomously still holding his face too tight. “The most stupid man I’ve met. You disgust me, a said mafia boss who claimed to have the power to take down the Choi family, the boss who killed just because a man was doing his job, the boss who threatened to abuse me. Pathetic, now look at you, bleeding on your knees with no gang to help your pathetic ass.”

Bang!

“Ops, there goes your ball sack” you laughed, a sinister tone that brought a chill down Seungcheol’s spine, a very confusing feeling.

Hongjoong choked on his own breath, pain was all he could feel now, slowly losing conscience because of all the blood he was losing.

“I’m no whore,” you pressed now the gun to his forehead “Let’s take that filthy tongue of yours out, I’m not done with you. You’re going to beg me to kill you.” You wanted him to suffer, to feel so much pain that he begs for mercy and you'll deny him that.

This moment you thought about for so many nights, so many times you wondered how you'd do this, how much fun will it be, how long will you play with your toy. It was almost turning into a fantasy of some sort.

Now that he's here, it is more exciting. Slowly might be your best option, hurting their manhood your signature, hearing his pathetic cries was music to your ears.

You wanted more, maybe after him you'd go for Wooyoung and Yeosang, you have one or two things planned to say to them. You were savoring this so badly, having too much fun.

This was a sight to see for everyone else, the beautiful woman torturing a supposed mafia boss. Your own presence was slightly captivating, and very unsettling.

It wasn't common for a woman to be like this, to enjoy this too much, to be so unbothered by the sight of so much blood, such a precise aim with a gun, such hunger in your eyes for more.

Seungcheol stepped up quietly to your side, his large hand coming to rest flat softly against your shoulder blade. As you look up, he saw the pure hatred vibrating through every fiber of your being. But his own eyes grounded you, bringing you slowly back to this present.

“Sweetheart.” his sweet but firm voice and the hand on your shoulder was enough to make you come back to your senses a bit. Still, you showed annoyance towards him interrupting your performace, your fantasy unfinished

“I’m busy Seungcheol. This scum—”

“I know,” Seungcheol grabbed your arm to help you stand up “Let’s get this over with sweetheart.”

You were slightly more aware of the surroundings, the eyes on you actually terrified of what they were seeing. Then you were aware of the heavy breathing of the other two agonizing bodies in pain.

This is ridiculous you thought. And tiring. You were already exhausted, but seeing him there on the ground already bleeding out, brought you more exhaustion than relief and that pissed you off.

Seungcheol is right, let’s get this over with.

“I think you deserve to suffer longer,” you raised the gun taunting him a little more “You do deserve to rot in here all alone, or maybe with your boys.” You then turned to look at the forms of Wooyoung and Yeosang on the floor without lowering the gun pointed at Hongjoong, you smiled at them, taunting with a single tilt of your chin.

"Gotta admit, this is so much fun."

You broke contact with them, looking one last time at Hongjoong’s bleeding body shaking with pain. Your eyes then looked up to meet Seungcheol’s steady, grounding gaze. You looked at him for a long, quiet beat, the storm in your chest settling just a little more. He didn’t have to say anything to you.

“Let’s end this already.” You said calmly, like shooting a bullet through this man's head wasn't a big deal. So you smiled at Hongjoong. “See you in hell.”

Then, without any sort of hesitation, you fired a final bullet straight through the center of Hongjoong’s forehead.

His body went entirely limp against the concrete.

You lowered the gun, turning your gaze back to Wooyoung and Yeosang, who were staring at you, not believing what happened and you could tell reality hit them as you were taking small steps towards them.

“Thank you,” you said softly, a dark, cynical smile on your lips. “Thank you, for making this so easy. I had fun talking to you, even though both of you are disgusting like he was. So, one last gift from me.”

Bang! Bang!

You fired both men on the groin as well, with a small laugh you shrugged “A gift for your stupid attitude. I am not a whore and both of you are just annoying and useless,” You turned your back on them completely ignoring their pleas and cries. You rolled your eyes and turned to Seungcheol, and you then noticed every Sector17 men there looked at you surprised, waiting for something else. Maybe you breaking down or going crazier. “They’re all yours boys.”

Seungcheol reacted immediately, his commanding aura taking over now. He looked back toward the entrance as Jun and the rest of the crew finally entered the warehouse. “Okay, Minghao, Jun—clear the floor,” Seungcheol ordered sharply, his voice carrying the absolute authority. “Jeonghan, Deal with everything. Wrap it up clean. We got a lot to do after this.”

“With pleasure, Boss.”  Jeonghan smirked looking back at you and winked “I’m your fan dear.” With that he chuckled and turned towards the rest and looked down to the two men in agonizing pain. A sight to see, you really did shoot them in the balls “What a masterpiece” Followed by two loud gunshots

Seungcheol had already reached to you, his eyes softening instantly as he stepped Infront of you, completely blocking the bloody scene from your view. “It’s over now, sweetheart,” he murmured, his deep voice thick with emotion, all between pride, relief and something darker that he’s not going to point out here, not yet. Mostly he was glad. “I promise you, it’s completely over.”

“I know, Cheolie. Now I’d like to go home, please.” You were surprisingly calm though the raw adrenaline was still hot through your veins. Seungcheol did not hesitate.

He stripped off his heavy, warm overcoat and wrapped it securely around your shoulders, pulling you firmly against his chest to shield you from the cold river air you’d feel outside this shit hole.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”  He whispered softly, his strong arms holding you tight as he began to lead you out toward the waiting car outside.

A Bitersweet Ending

The front gates of the mansion flew open before the engine even died. Chan stood on the threshold, his eyes were glued on the car and wide open looking for any confirmation. The moment he saw you step out of the car, wrapped in Seungcheol’s coat, a visible tremor passed through his shoulders and his face revealed the immense relief of seeing you alive, and back. He’d beat himself to death if something happened to you.

He spent just a couple of hours with you, he doesn’t really know you. But he knows Seungcheol, he knows his brother. He heard about you long before you came to the mansion. He always wondered how you’d be like, and how did you managed to steal his older brother’s heart. Seungcheol trusted him to take care of his woman and he’d failed, miserably. All he had done was shoot the man and not even to kill him. How on earth was that worth of anything?

He failed his brother. When he had informed Seungcheol he truly thought he’d kill him.

Chan had spent this entire time convinced that his failure had signed your death— and eventually his own. He looked at Seungcheol, his posture stiffening, preparing for the absolute worst from his Boss and you, he was ready to take it.

“She's fine, Chan,” Seungcheol said, his voice low and tired as he guided you up the marble steps, his large palm steady against the small of your back.

“Hey kid, I’m okay.” You said softly as you saw relief but guilt while looking at you. Not able to stand it, you walked to him and hugged him “You did nothing wrong you hear me? Cheol told me, you saved them and I am really grateful for that Chan.”

“I just— I failed, I thought they—”

“could kill me? No, I’m crazier than I look dear. Now, listen to me.” Pulling away he noticed you looked at him like Seungcheol would sometimes right when he’d scold him for not eating or leaving food on the pool table. That simple thing made him surpress a laugh “We’re fine, now go inside, take a shower and eat something. I’m sure as fuck you did not eat or drink anything. Go. Eat.”

Chan let out a small relieved chuckle. “Yeah, I will.” He grinned “The girls are perfectly safe, I took  them home already”

The best streetfighter, a mafia member, but you still saw in him a kid, maybe he's not that young, but he is the youngest, he's not entirely new in this world, he has done his own damage, he has blood on his hands, but you couldn't stop it, he reminded you of your sister a little. So, he was a kid

“I better not hear you flirted with them Chan.” You warned him “Now, go eat. I’m not going to tell you again Lee Chan.”

“Yes, Boss.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Against his will, Seungcheol decided to give you time to rest.

 Jeonghan, Minghao, and Jun had just slipped back into the mansion through the basement entrance, their expressions grim and focused. The map of Manhattan on the wall was already being updated by Wonwoo, red ink taking over the blocks that used to belong to ATZ.

Seungcheol needed to handle this— incident. Coordinate with Jeonghan, Wonwoo, and the other families to ensure Sector 17 is not a threat right now. However, they should have a meeting as soon as possible, this is not going to end without a settlement.

Seungcheol is going to prove that he will do whatever he has to do to protect his family and his own empire, but won’t pick a fight just because. This needs to be discussed.

An hour later, and the strategic lines had been drawn, the orders given, meeting date set and the majority of ATZ property will officially belong to Sector 17.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Seungcheol’s exhausted, but most importantly worried about you.

You were wide awake, took a shower and changed into your silk black nightgown, you had already brushed too many times your hair, makeup was long gone. Your red dress and mask were on the chair by the bathroom door. You were still contemplating if you wanted to keep it or burn it.

Seungcheol knocked on your bedroom door almost too quietly.

“Can I come in?” his voice was soft, careful, he wanted to see you but did not want to disturb you.

“Sure,” you turned around to watch Seungcheol carefully step inside.

He walked across the heavy rug, his movements slow and deliberate so he wouldn’t startle you. Cute. He sat down on the edge of the bed, in front of you as you were sitting on the vanity chair. You could see his dark eyes were filled with such a tenderness worry.

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” he murmured softly, his voice dropping into that gentle, intimate tone he only used when the two of you were completely alone.

You turned away, your eyes were now fixed on the fire, “well, to be honest I thought I’d feel different,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “I mean I am fucking glad this is over, but I just thought I’d feel lighter at once”

Seungcheol wondered if you were actually ready for this in the first place. He slid closer, a warm hand carefully coming to rest over your own. It was bringing the comfort you needed, to be honest you needed more.

“This weight won’t go away all at once, sweetheart,” he said softly, his thumb tracing the back of your hand making you feel comforted, amongst other things. “But you don’t have to carry it by yourself anymore. I’m right here. I will always be here, whether you choose me or not.”

You finally lifted your head, your dark eyes locking onto his own. You did feel relieved now, for once you felt protected, and slowly the heavy weight you were feeling was lifting off your shoulders.

“Choose you or not” You repeated softly, a small smile forming on your lips, “I appreciate you’re letting me decide. But we both know the answer already.”

“Maybe, but I still don’t want to pressure you. I know I messed up”

“Mmm, you did,” you stood up to get closer to him, he tried to get up but you stopped him by sitting on his lap. You were tired, but there was something else already that made your skin burn. “But you’re here now, and you don’t plan on leaving me, right?”

“No, I won’t make that mistake again.” He replied without hesitation. He was trying so hard to control himself, but the fact that you were on your nightgown, on his lap, looking like a sin, was torture.

 The air in the room shifted instantly, a little suffocating but in a good way.

You looked at his sharp jaw, the dark intensity of his gaze, the broad shoulders beneath his silk shirt that was already wrinkled and unbuttoned revealing a part of his chest, and you were long gone. You were sitting on his lap, the tough mafia leader was now just there looking at you like you were his entire world.

The small resentment you had been holding had already faded. The pride that told you to make him fight for you, long gone now. It was now replaced by a desperate, mutual longing that had been building for far too long.

“Cheol,” you breathed, your voice a soft almost purr. “I want you, all of you.”

Seungcheol is losing all restraint. He wanted to wait, to let you rest, but sitting on his lap, in this nightgown was driving him crazy, that’s why his large hands couldn’t stop as he slowly caressed your waist and almost instantly pulling your body closer against his chest, he looked up at your eyes then your lips and he let out a small grunt

“I’m all yours sweetheart,” seungcheol’s right hand was now on your cheek going to the back of your neck, ready to pull your face closer to him but still holding back. “But, you need to rest. I—”

“Seungcheol,” you whispered as one hand was griping tightly his shirt while the other was already slowly going up to his hair, stroking it admiring the softness and how it feels, pulling it tightly enough to make him let out a small grunt. “I want you to fuck me. Now.”

His restraint completely broke at your words, and he crashed his lips to yours with a passionate, fierce force that left you completely breathless. Wanting more, needing more of him. The way he tasted, his soft lips fiercely kissing you, making your head spin and taking your breath away.

Seungcheol wanted to wait, wanted to court you, leave aside his desire for you, his longing and ignore the way his body was calling for you wanting more.

Seungcheol wanted to be a gentleman. You, on the other hand, wanted him to take everything he already had claimed as his from the moment he met you. The version of him as Sector17’s boss had made you go feral.

You didn’t have any other love interest, not when he left and not even before him. Reacting so quickly to his voice, his smell, his eyes, his lips. Just like you were to him, he was going to be the death of you. The desire you felt for him was overwhelming.

Both of you were frantic now, possessed by this desperate need to remove every piece of cloth between you. He lifted you so effortlessly to place you properly on the bed, without missing a beat he grabbed the fabric of your nightgown, his large fingers finding the lace strings and with sharp tug, he pulled it off you now leaving you exposed to him, his eyes were on you, admiring your uncovered body, soft skin tempting to be touched, marked, worshiped. Seungcheol paused for a second, his breath hitching as he was taking in the sight of you—flushed and panting. So needy, he wanted to take his time with you, softly touch every inch of you, worship you.

Oh, but you were like a drug, just for him and you were as eager as he was.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached up and tore his white shirt, ripping the buttons open until the fabric fell away somewhere on the floor. His broad shoulders and chest all the way down were a sight to see, the dark ink of the tattoos stretching across his shoulders making him look unreal, his defined chest and abs made you reach up, touch his hot skin, tracing every muscle as you were biting your lips.

This tension was a little too much, feeling his skin, seeing him like that, with those dark eyes that, just like you, were lusting and admiring.

Seungcheol was mesmerized, you were laying in bed completely bare. You looked beautiful to him, pure and glowing.

You were incredibly needy to touch him more, he looked unreal, and just by looking at him you could feel aroused and so damn wet.

The moment he pressed his bare skin against yours you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body, your hands instantly running from his chest to his back, your nails digging into the skin as he pressed his full, delicious weight down on you. The way he felt, the way he smelled it was just addictive.

This is what you were craving. The heat, the way his soft bare skin was against yours, fuck you needed this, you needed more of him.

“Mmm, I love that you’re taking your time,” you moaned as Seungcheol kissed your neck suddenly sucking on your skin definitely leaving a mark. “But I want more, need m-more. Y-yes.”

Tightening your grip on his shoulders as he slid his hand down your stomach, his rough, calloused palm feeling every inch of your skin sending a jolt of pure heat straight to your core.

His fingers slipped through the waistband of your lace panties, sliding lower finally feeling how soaking wet you already were. You choked on a gasp, your hips instinctively arching up against his touch, just this was making you feel so good.

“Look at you,” Seungcheol whispered, his voice dangerously low as his fingers slid down your wet core, painfully slow but so good you were crying out his name, your eyes rolling back. “So wet for me. I have to taste you.” His voice deeper than ever, like a man starved

“Cheol,” you moaned throwing your head against the pillows as the way he was touching you pushed you closer and closer to the edge already. You hooked your legs tighter on his hips, practically begging for more. “As tempting as that sound, mmm, you can eat me out next time. I need your dick inside me. Now.”

“So eager, sweetheart.” He said with a dark chuckle as he pulled back his fingers and licked them clean, “and so sweet. I am going to eat this pussy soon baby.”

He stripped the last piece of your underwear away, his own following until he was completely naked above you looking at you with the same hunger. He positioned himself again between your thighs, his thick length pressing directly against you, a delicious warmth.

Feeling the size of him, combined with the absolute desire in his gaze, made your heart start beating like crazy and your breath hitch. It was overwhelming but a pleasure you’d be addicted to, a pleasure only he can give.

He didn’t wait. He didn’t even ask. Shifting his grip to secure your hips firmly against the mattress, Seungcheol drove his hips forward, sliding once, twice his dick through your pussy and then burying his entire length inside you in one deep, firm thrust.

The sudden fullness stretched you slightly painfully for a few seconds causing you to let out a breathless cry from your lips. Your fingers scratched his shoulders with the same intensity, your back arching fully off the bed as you gripped him tightly.

Seungcheol stood still for a couple of seconds, his jaw clenching so hard as he held himself deep inside you, the feeling of your pussy and your body felt too good, he was trying so hard not to lose himself, going feral and cum in ten seconds.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he groaned, his voice deep as he buried his face in your neck taking in your scent. “You feel so good, so tight... so perfect.”

The moment the intense pain turned  into a throbbing, hot pleasure, you began to move your hips against him. “Cheol, move oh god, fuck me” your voice breaking. “Faster, Cheol.”

Your words broke whatever control he had, Seungcheol began to move, his pace slow at first and incredibly deep. Every single thrust was a powerful force that rocked the entire bed, his hips slamming against yours. He held your wrists pinned above your head, his fingers locking with yours driving deeper and deeper hitting the right spot causing you to moan desperately for more.

The pleasure was blinding, a sensation that completely consumed you. You were completely at his mercy, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist to take him as deep as possible, your loud, unfiltered moans and the sound of skin against skin echoed filling the room. You watched him right now with nothing but desire, the sweaty neck, the raw intensity in his eyes as he looked down at you, completely obsessed and drunk in you.

“You’re mine,” he repeated, his pace now turning frantic, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, so deep making your eyes roll back in pleasure, he felt your inner walls begin to tighten around him, you were so close already, so tight. “Say it, sweetheart. You are mine.”

“I’m yours,” you moaned louder, “fuck— harder, Cheol” the friction was pushing you over the edge. Your entire body was reacting to his movements

“Cum with me baby,” his pace was unreal, his hips slamming against yours, loudly and incredibly good, “Sweetheart, fuck you’re so tight,” he moaned as he moved his hand to your core rubbing your clit bringing you to the edge and your body was now shaking as you came moaning his name.

The intense, pressure of your orgasm completely broke him. Seungcheol let out a deep, guttural growl, his hips driving into you one last and deep thrust, through your own intense orgasm you could feel him pulsing as he came inside you. The feeling of him so deep inside you sends more pleasure through your whole body.

His strength finally gave out, and he collapsed heavily against you, his chest heaving as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing hitting your skin causing you to feel more sensitive, in the most exquisite way.

Your arms wrapped tightly around his sweaty shoulders, holding him tight against you savoring every inch of him against you. Seungcheol slowly tried to pull away feeling he might be crushing you

“Mmm, stay don’t move,” you moaned and held him tight causing him to groan in pleasure, he was now a little oversensitive but definitely did not want to move either, “I’m sore but this feels good” you moved your hips a little tightening around him.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re making me hard again” though both of your bodies were already spent, these seconds were already igniting more need, more pleasure and somehow more goddamn energy.

“Oh really? Well, I do want more.” somehow you managed to push him and get on top, not even pulling out. The new movement and position caused a shiver go through your body. “Oh my, so good Cheol, fuck your dick feels damn good.”

“Then let’s get to work baby,” Seungcheol growled holding your hips as you were bouncing on his cock, tits right on his face, your moans and the sound of your pussy slamming on his dick getting louder and wet. You lifted your body, fully seated on his cock rotating your hips, holding back your hair you moaned closing your eyes enjoying the way he felt. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”

Not stopping for a second he started to fuck into you harder, this new position made you feel him even more, the fight for control was overwhelming, you liked having him under you, but having his hands guide you, move you on his cock felt amazing. Another round of him fucking you so good you see stars,

Seungcheol was loving every second not only because how you feel around him, but because each time both of you tried to take control, it was a small battle for it he’d move you or hold you down against his chest as he slammed his hips up into you, or you’d take his hands pin them above his head and bounce yourself on his cock taking him at your own rhythm.

This was a pleasure you needed, you craved him. Now he’s here underneath you fucking the living shit out of you.

“Fuck, Cheol I’m going to cum again” you breathed out between your loud moans, you were now on this addictive high feeling every inch of his dick reaching parts inside of you that brought you closer to the edge every single thrust every single rotation of your hips “So good, your dick is so good.”

“Cum with me baby, come on sweetheart cum on my dick.” He groaned holding you in place slamming his hips up into you, sound of slapping skin louder than ever causing you to feel lightheaded, the pleasure was starting to feel too much, but so good. You didn’t care about over estimulation, his cock was so deep soo good you wanted more.

“make me cum darling, fuck me,” you whispered in his ear, biting his ear lobe you breathed out “fill me up again. Cum in my pussy, make me feel you. Fuck me full, yes!”

Trigger enough, Seungcheol groaned and had gone feral. His dick hitting that spot inside you that had you seeing stars, your moans grew louder if that was even possible. You could feel the way your body was on the edge already, a bigger orgasm than the previous one and you were ready for it

“Cum. Now sweetheart, milk my dick.” Seungcheol growled kneading and giving your ass a hard slap that triggered the most intense orgasm of the night, your body was shaking and you couldn’t control it, your walls tightening around Seungcheol causing him to moan as well making him cum inside of you. His orgasm as strong and intense as your own “Fuck, milk my dick baby, damn it. So tight.”

He was now mumbling praises to your ear, spilling himself once again inside of you, the feeling was incredible, warmth inside your pussy that now you could feel dripping down his dick, Seungcheol was seeing spots from the intense pleasure, he was now on the edge of overstimulation but he didn’t care he kept fucking his cum inside you slowly but deep, both moaning while he keeps kneading your ass with each movement squeezing and slapping it, feeling how it jiggles making you feel so good.

“I feel so fucking full,” you whispered, exhausted but completely satisfied, still slowly rocking your hips “I like it, I might ask for this daily”

“I’ll gladly make your wish come true” Seungcheol moaned, “Mm, this pussy will be the death of me though. So tight so perfect for me.”

“All yours, Cheol.” You breathed out, still on top of him, his dick stayed inside warm and still semi hard, keeping most of his cum inside of you feeling amazing. “I’m all yours.”

“And I’m yours sweetheart.” He kissed your cheek looking up at you with those doe eyes, he was spent, he felt drained in the best way possible.

Seungcheol held you tight as he rolled you to lay down next to him, you whined as he slid out of you making you feel empty, and you could feel his cum start to drip out of your pussy. Seungcheol noticed and he slid his fingers gathering it all and bringing his fingers to your mouth, without hesitation you licked them clean earing a small moan from him.

“You are going to be the death of me sweetheart.” He said looking at the way you sucked his fingers clean, his dick twitched at the sight, but he knew you needed to rest and he needs a break, thought maybe he could keep going. “let’s rest baby.”

You could only hum in response, you were spent, tired and with no strength but deeply satisfied, you were worn out but the pleasure was worth it, your body was still feeling the pleasure but also very sore. An exquisite combination that you’d gladly take more than once.

“Mmm, I want a bath, but I don’t want to move.” You chuckled and looked at Seungcheol with tired doe eyes making him smile back at you “you really wore me out Cheollie.”

“Well, good. You wore me out too baby.” He softly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear “you drive me crazy. In the best way.”

“mmm, I feel dirty but good.” You smiled at him as he leaned down placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “take a bath with me?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He grinned as he stood up, slightly dizzy he recovered and laughed. “you really did drained me baby.”

“I want more.” You pouted at him as he gently lifted you from the bed and caried you bridal style towards the bathroom. He chuckled and kissed you softly.

“You’ll get what you want sweetheart, but first, let’s clean you up and rest.” You rolled your eyes making him chuckle. “you’re being a spoiled princess.”

“Queen,” you corrected him with a wink, “I might be spoiled, but I am a Queen.”

“My spoiled Queen.”

The warm morning sun was fully illuminating the bedroom, you were tired and sore, somehow this soreness felt good.

Days prior to this madness, you’d wake up a little irritated that the morning sun had directly woke you up too early for your liking, but not this morning.

With a long sight, you shifted now leaning on Seungcheol’s chest, resting your chin on your hands that could feel his beating heart match yours already, beating faster at the sight of him, hair messy thanks to your hands and the pillow, face a little puffy and cheeks already rosy, his plump lips already smiling.

“Morning sweetheart” his deep morning voice already sending a shiver down your spine straight to your core.

“You’re adorable.” You simply said causing him to chuckle as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“You’re adorable too,” he whispered, he saw the way you were looking at him and then how you simply drifted off. “Something is bothering you. What is it baby?”

You chuckled, of course he’d noticed already. Seungcheol’s hand, had been lazily tracing the line of your spine, his eyes on you carefully reading you.

Before you moved, you’d been thinking about everything that happened the night before, the way everything ended and how you didn’t have to worry about how you could get more information from drunk men. You don’t have to worry about reaching for the derringer on your thigh when you’re out, damn you don’t even have to worry about having to go out to the speakeasy bar anymore.

“A part of me is very glad is all over,” you said softly, “no more hiding, no more risks, no more dealing with stupid sexually constipated men. Gotta be honest though, a part of me is going to miss being Cherry.” Seungcheol chuckled, he could tell that beside the dangers of being her, you enjoyed it.

“You liked being her?”

“It was fun sometimes. Setting the whole purpose aside, I enjoyed being her.” You smiled fondly at the memory, you didn’t use her only with those men to get information. She was a blast on those good quiet days, Miss Cherry would take the girls to the dance floor and have fun with them, flirt playfully with women, tease the small crew. Tease some couples that were having fun, even occasionally playing poker with some of them. She wasn’t only there to be sultry and seduce men till they spilled secrets and worth information for you, she was a way to have fun without feeling too guilty, without feeling the restraint.

Miss Cherry was fun.

“You enjoyed it because you were yourself, you just had a mask on.” he said still tracing random patterns on your bare back.

“I guess, but it is easier to claim it was someone else instead of being real and say Lee y/n did all of that.” You chuckled “I don’t really want to do those things again.”

“It’s okay if you want to use that mask again, have fun at the speakeasy with the girls.” He whispered though his voice now turned more serious “I just don’t—I mean—”

“I am not going to flirt with other men anymore, Cheol. That’s why I plan on letting go of her.” You reassured him, he wanted to let you be free, but he also wanted you all for himself. He was afraid of sounding like he wanted to force something. “I’m yours. Completely. No more masks. Just me, us.”

A profound, breathless relief washed over Seungcheol's face, immediately followed by a clear joy because of what you said. His woman. He cleared his throat, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious as he tried to sit up, adjusting the pillows behind him.

“Y/n, listen,” he started, his voice taking on a formal, serious tone. “I want to do this right. I don’t want to rush things, I want to court you properly. I want to take you out to the finest dinners in the city now, take my time with you and do this the way you deserve. I want to buy you flowers, eat peacefully together and win your heart the way a gentleman should—”

“A gentleman?” You cut him off with an incredulous laugh, rolling your eyes as you sat up too. “Cheol, look at yourself. You have my nail scratches on your back, love bites on your neck, you’re now the most feared mafia boss in New York, and you’re saying you’d try do things like ‘normal’ gentlemen would do.”

“I’m serious,” he groaned, a cute pout forming on his lips as his jaw set stubbornly. “You deserve to be courted, to have romance not just—”

“I don’t want a lame ordinary romance, or being courted” you interrupted with a sudden, intensity that completely captivated him. You leaned in, your fingers gripping his chin. “I don’t want a gentleman anymore, and I certainly don’t want to wait. I want power, I want adrenaline, and I want it now. I am no princess or a pure innocent girl ready for a boy to sweep her off her feet, Choi Seungcheol. If you want me, you take me and make me yours, no questions no waiting. You’re a boss, act like one. Even if I’m ready to piss you off and overrule everything you say. I want challenge, you want it too.”

Seungcheol stared at you for a second, stunned by your words. Then, a slow, utterly smitten smirk spread across his face. Your own boss energy radiating from you made him feel excited. You truly were a brand new woman, you were Miss Cherry completely, and he liked it.

He did want to give you what he couldn’t before he left, but hearing you and looking at you, he knew that you two never were normal.

You are not a woman that looks and acts like an angel and he is not a man only ready to give you jewelry and everything your princess spoiled heart desires.

No, you were a strong woman ready to piss him off and then make him forget what he was angry for with a sultry whisper of his name, a kiss and sex. You were a woman that wanted, craved the adrenaline, he is a man ready to take whatever he wants no matter the cost, he is ready to give whatever you wanted even if he also pisses you off, even when he would try to boss you around too. He was ready to give you everything already. Love, money, adrenaline and power.

It’s true, you two were not the same as you were two years ago.

“So, you want now?” his voice dropping into a dark, playful grumble. “You want me to take you”

“Seungcheol—” before you could even say something else, he stood up abruptly and with a burst of cheeky wicked energy, he grabbed the silk bedsheet, wrapping it securely around your bare body he effortlessly scooped you up into his massive arms, throwing you over his shoulder effortlessly. You shrieked in surprise as he slapped your ass.

“Cheol! Put me down! What the fuck are you doing?”  you laughed, your fists hitting his bare lower back.

“You said you wanted me to take you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, marching right out of the bedroom in nothing but his dark cotton boxers. He carried you down the grand marble staircase, completely ignoring your protests and the imminent possibility of someone running into both of you. He passed the main foyer, down the quiet corridor, and kicked open the heavy doors of his dark office.

The room was dark and took time to adjust to the barely iluminated room. He walked to his massive desk, placing you softly there, you took the sheet and covered more of your chest as he stepped back, breathing slightly hard, cheeks flushed and a wicked smile still plastered on his face.

You sat there wrapped on the white silk sheets, your hair a wild, beautiful mess, staring at him in disbelief and curiosity. Trying to ignore the way it kinda turned you on the way he picked you up, manhandling you all the way to his office. You made a note to put those arms and strength to good use soon.

“You are completely insane.”

“Probably,” Seungcheol agreed. He kissed your cheek before he walked over to the heavy iron safe in the corner of the room, spun the dial with ease, and reached into it looking for something.

“You do have a pretty ass, can I bite it?” you spoke outloud as you tilted your head while checking him out. His broad back, every muscle well defined, the way his ass looked from there was really tempting to have a bite.

When he turned back around, he looked at you with wide eyes before laughing at your comment that had you blushing already. “Don’t look at me like that! You have a pretty ass, it is bigger than mine!”

“I doubt that sweetheart.” Seungcheol chuckled “And no, you can’t bite my ass.” He smiled at the way you now clearly pouted. The simple idea of you biting his ass was exciting a little. He had a very well defined, round and very squishy ass. Of course you wanted to bite it.

“You can’t bite my ass”  you mocked him rolling your eyes, as you were ready to badmouth him more, you noticed he was holding a small, red velvet box that looked entirely out of place in this conversation, keep in mind, he had that velvet box on his hands while half-naked.

His expression now shifted from playful to something incredibly serious, raw and deeply emotional. You could feel it yourself.

There he was, in nothing but his underwear, messy hair and marks that hinted the passionate night he had with you. The terrifying boss of Sector 17 now dropped on one knee before you.

“I’ve had this ring for almost three years, Y/n,” he said, his voice suddenly thick, and a little shaky. He opened the box, revealing a stunning, flawless cut diamond that caught the dim light of the office making it shine beautifully.

“I bought it before everything went to hell. Every single day that I spent with you I realized how wonderful you are, I knew I wanted you. Then, everything changed and I spent every night beating myself up for leaving like that, I wanted to come back to you and take you with me, but you’d be in danger because of me. Then this shit happened and when those fuckers took you, I was terrified because I didn’t know if I’d see you again, if I’d ever get the chance to give this you. To spend my life with you.”

Your breath hitched, the playful sarcasm instantly dying in your throat as you looked at the ring, and then at the fierce loving devotion in his eyes.

“This is a mess, I am a mess.” Seungcheol admitted, letting out a soft laugh as he gestured to his lack of clothes and your wrapped sheets. “I know this isn’t the Plaza or some fancy restaurant, I’m in my boxers and you’re wrapped in these sheets completely naked underneath. But I just know you are the woman I want in my life, next to me. Be mine, Y/n. Run this city with me. Marry me.”

Tears formed in your eyes. It was messy, odd and just out of traditional way of proposing. You struggled with the sheets until you finally could free your hands to reach out and hold his face making him stand up. “Fuck, Yes.” you whispered, a huge smile spreading across your face. The most genuine, warm and full of love smile you saw him wear. “Yes, you idiot! Fuck, of course yes!”

Seungcheol let out a loud victorious laugh as he took your hand and gently, carefully slid the heavy beautiful diamond ring in your finger before he cupped your face and crashed his lips fiercely against yours, then his hands tangling in the sheets trying to find your waist and pull you close. Claiming you here was rather tempting, bending you over the desk—

THUMP!

The heavy mahogany doors flew open, bouncing violently against the wall.

“Finally you woke up! I thought I heard you. Boss, we have an interesting update from the north side—the chief of police just—”

Chan froze dead in his tracks as he looked up from the papers on his hands. The words died completely in his throat.

He stood paralyzed in the doorway, his eyes widening once he took in what was in front of him.

His gaze flicked from his massive built Boss standing in nothing but his boxers, and then at you, tangled in a nest of bedsheets clearly naked on the mahogany table, your hand resting on Seungcheol’s shoulder but the massive diamond on your finger clearly visible.

The sight registered shock on Chan’s face in real-time. Then, just as fast, his skin turned a bright shade of red. The weight of the scene was now too heavy

“Oh my god,” Chan’s voice cracking into a high-pitched, horrified tone. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! I am so, so sorry! I did not see anything!” he was now panic, trying to hold the folders but also cover his eyes.

“Lee Chan! Get the fuck out!” Seungcheol growled, his voice deep with annoyance as he instinctively stepped closer to you to block Chan’s view.

“Too much skin, perverts! Oh my god! You horny freaks!” Chan shouted, frantically spinning around on his heel to flee but also debating where to leave the folder with information. He was ready to leave, “Can’t believe—”  But in his absolute panic rant, he completely misjudged the distance of the doorway.

Chan’s forehead smashed directly into the heavy doorframe with a sickening, hollow thud. He let out a pathetic, strangled groan, and you let out a loud laugh. Chan stumbled backwards, he then tripped over his own feet and clumsily stood back up and left mumbling something about pervert couple.

The heavy silence returned to the office once the doors closed again making you look back at Seungcheol. Both of you just stared at the empty doorway. Then, you burst out into a loud laugh, griping the sheets tightly, the absurd moment made you laugh too much.

 Seungcheol held it in for a fraction of a second before he threw his head back joining you. The laughter slowly calmed down, he now rested his forehead against yours, both of you still giggling with amusement.

“I think we traumatized the kid.” You chuckled as you took his hand with yours.

“He’s not a kid, he’s done worse and he’s going to live.” Seungcheol smirked at you, those cute dimples fully on display still again, making your beating heart more erratic.

“Ah, just to let you know. I will marry you, but I will not stay behind. I’m having my own seat at that table, do you understand? I don’t want to be in a mansion doing nothing.”

“Figured, you’re so bossy and stubborn you know that right?” he chuckled as he pulled you close to him “I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it” you scoffed as you pulled back from him “I’ll think about marrying you then”

“Why do I have a feeling that you’ll be a pain in my ass?” Seungcheol chuckled as the pout in your face turned into a very annoyed look “I’m kidding sweetheart. You got your chair right next to mine the moment I saw you walk out of that private room unharmed, rolling your eyes right after killing someone.”

“My endeavors were worth it then.” You kissed his right cheek, “do I have to sit next to you—” kiss his left cheek “or can I sit on your lap? Or—” you looked at him right into those darkening eyes and now with that characteristic sultry whisper you leaned closer, lips barely touching, hand trailing lower from his chest to his abs, followind the happy trail until you reached his underwear “better yet, on your cock?”

With serious expression he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, he spoke truthfully and determined “Lee Y/n, I want you to be my wife, you will have a seat next to me on that table, deal with this world with me like you want. Like I want.” His voice was low, that tone did something to you, his eyes then turned darker, his demeanor changed in a second as he pulled the sheets down exposing your front to him forcefully, your bare breasts in all their glory, nipples already hard, you were already getting the sheets wet from his proximity and the way he looked at you, now his voice was a low purr against your neck “but right now, you will be sitting here like a good girl, while I eat this pussy until you soak my face, then you’ll have permission to sit in my cock so I can fill you up sweetheart.”

“Oh, tempting and so kind of you baby. If you mean it, then get down to it Cheol,” you moaned, the anticipation already burning and making you impatient “show me how much you want this pussy.”

“I fucking love you y/n” and without any warning he opened your legs and kneeled down to finally have a taste of your pussy. And just like that, he was pussy drunk you tasted divine, so sweet.

“I love you Cheol—Oh fuck! Right there, yes!”

The future of Sector 17 is going to be incredibly messy it will be bloody, chaotic and. It might have started in a crazy way, but this was the ending you wanted, well kind of.

You succeeded on getting justice for your father, shooting a bullet to the killer’s head and bringing the so called family down, you made him feel the weight of everything he’s done. All that with a pretty velvet, red dress, a mask and a sweet voice.

It won’t be easy, dealing with the consequences of your own vendetta. Sector17 took down many of their business, slapped a few fellas. All because they messed up with you and with Seungcheol’s patience. You were ready to face it though, and you were not going to be alone this time.

Clearly.

You're not sure what compels him to keep arriving like this at your door, no explanation given, one hand grasping the frame above your head as he toes off his boots.

A stray seeking shelter from the rain, is what you teasingly wish to call him, but you watch the slow raise of his eyes to yours, and you know that no charity will fall from your lips tonight.

He takes his time, moving close enough for you to register the vital heat of his body, the warm, sweet wash of his breath over the side of your neck, the way his yukata brushes the front of your own robe.

Then he is moving past you, drawled greeting snaking over your ears as he invites himself in.

Well, not quite.

You've allowed him in enough times that it now goes unspoken.

Your home is his domain too, and he leaves his mark on it, because his marks lie on you, from lips, to hair, to throat, to the softness of your thighs, and the flesh of your hips.

It's a landscape he's traversed with familiarity, but you try to keep your thoughts away from that for now, because he really has come in from the rain, and even though he's making his way dutifully for the towels, he's left traces of damp on the floorboards.

You manage to reach the towels before he does, snatching one from the pile. Before he can protest, you've started to dry off his hair a little more vigorously than you should.

"Ow."

"Stop dripping water on my floors."

"Come on. It's not that - "

"I could go fishing in the lakes you've created."

"But you like me wet."

You snap the towel down and away from him, raising an eyebrow.

Oh, there he is, your first clear glimpse of the evening.

Beneath the thoroughly disshevelled peaks of silver hair, eyes that you know turn amber in the sun, now darkened beneath lowered lids, the slow curve of his lop-sided smile, the harder angles of cheek and jaw that could turn him from nonchalant wanderer to warrior in an instant.

With Gintoki, it's all about choice, and your freedom to make such choices.

You're the one who let him in, and here he's lodged himself, a stubborn stone in the seams of your life.

He'd never stay if you didn't want him to.

He does know that you want him, though.

It's in the way you touch him, lingering on the solid lines of chest, arm and abdomen. It sighs across the breadth of him, in the passage of the towel. It rests briefly on his cheek and lips, as you dab moisture off those areas too, rather unnecessarily, in feigned innocence that fools nobody.

He allows you, indulges you as you play your role on a makeshift stage of your own making. He'll hand you this luxury, and other better luxuries, as a reward after all.

"I'm still kinda clammy."

"You know where the bathroom - "

The sentence isn't given a chance for completion as he begins to strip right there in the hallway.

The sodden yukata is off the fastest, shrugged away, tossed towards the back of a nearby chair.

It misses, lands in a heap on the floor.

Your eyes are far too occupied with what comes next to lend much attention to its plight.

He unbuttons his shirt, fingers flicking aside hidden hooks with long practice. The length of his throat, the slight sheen of water dampening his clavicle, the shift and slide of muscle beneath fabric, all visible, and with a rustle, a quick tug sideways on either end, the shirt has been shrugged off.

You take a step back, and he takes one forward.

"Gintoki - "

"I'm cold."

"I can run a bath for you."

He pauses, a moment of supreme attention, his eyes traveling from the way your hair curls around your ear to the silky folds of your own nightrobe, held fast with a clasp between your breasts.

His glance is always frank in its assessment, in its desire. There is nothing he needs to hide from you.

Gintoki wants you too, something else he is fully aware of. There are no nuances here, just your need and his.

"A bath? Sounds good. Don't worry, I do know where the bathroom is."

He tilts his head, taps you lightly under the chin, turns away, and you can't help but watch the bulge and shift of his shoulders as he stretches his arms leisurely over his head.

When he reaches the end of the corridor, right before the bathroom door, he reaches down, casually unbuckles his belt, unzips his trousers.

The dark edges hang free on either side of his exposed pelvis, and even though you can't quite make it out in the dim light, you're well aware of the slightly coarse trail of pale hair that roots down, towards other places you have seen.

"I'll have the water run in ten minutes. You joining me?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, and disappears within.

The sound of water running echoes down towards you, and though you busy yourself briefly in the kitchen, you know exactly what is about to occur within, through that entry rimmed with gold from muted lamplight.

He's going to sit on the edge of the tub, slumped slightly, watching the doorway. The tub will fill slowly behind him as he yawns, stretches again, runs his tongue along his teeth, reaches up to scrub fingers through his hair.

Then he'll pout slightly, stand, swaying, dropping his trousers in one swift push. He'll drag one ankle through, fighting with the clinging material as if it's a piece of sticky tape, before successfully kicking it in the general direction of the laundry basket.

His boxers will follow, peeled away nonchalantly from the curve of his buttocks, sliding down the powerful heft of his thighs ...

This is the point at which your desire gets the better of you. 

You turn your back to the kitchen counter, palms resting briefly against the cool surface before pushing off it.

The bathroom door still beckons, a light waft of steam revealed.

He is exactly as you pictured, wholly comfortable in his nudity, rubbing traces of soap off his chin as he readies the scrubbing cloth.

"Hey. Want me to wash your back? I'll wash yours if you wash mine."

It's the same dry joke he always makes, but you know he's not trying to amuse you.

Gintoki likes the routine you have together, even if he doesn't put a name to it.

You shrug and slip into the room.

"Don't forget my - "

"Ticklish spot. I know."

He grins, and you laugh, allowing the robe to fall away from your form.

Gintoki doesn't look away, lingering on your shoulders, elbows, the dip of your waist, your thighs, the way you reach up to bind and cover your hair. He beckons you over.

"Don't take all day. My back hurts."

"Age catching up to you?"

"Okay, you try carrying Sadaharu around all day, on your shoulders."

"Why on earth - "

"He had a thorn in his paw."

"Aren't you the sweetest."

He grunts in indignation, obviously having had enough of your teasing, because those large, warm hands are on your shoulders, and he tugs you closer, until he's situated right behind you.

"Lemme show you how sweet I can get."

"As a strawberry parfait?"

Warm breath traces the side of your neck, and then, the slow, full press of his body against the length of yours.

When he speaks, his voice drops to a lower baritone, the rumble of it a secret known only to you.

"I'm sweeter than that."

Inhaling sharply, you take your lower lip between your teeth as he works up a lather on the washcloth.

"Gintoki, stop."

"Huh?"

"Bedroom."

"Damn, you're bossy toni - "

You cut him off, lips sliding firmly into place over his. He utters a small sound of surprise, immediately responsive, leaning into you with a need that is always intoxicating.

Your hands move up, up, across the swell of his arms, along his shoulders, tracing the broad width of his neck and into his hair.

He breaks for breath, panting, pressing further forward so that you can feel the hardness of him against your thigh.

"Gintoki - "

"Yeah, yeah, bedroom. On it."

Your laughter trails you into the room in question, his arms lifting and bracing you from beneath the thighs.

"Hey, you're lighter than Sadaharu."

"And I know what you have in common with him."

He deposits you flat on your back across the bed, rather unceremoniously.

"In common?"

"You both like to be scratched behind the ear."

He stops dead, eyeing you in the way he did when you were acting, as he calls it, 'dangerous'.

You smile coyly, leaning back on your elbows, crooking a finger.

"What, you're scared now?"

"Frankly, yes."

In lieu of reply, you reach up, fingers trailing over the outer edge of his ear, an echo of his own temptation in the bathroom earlier.

He remains very still, muscles coiling on the verge of action.

Ears, the bridge of his nose, the length of his forehead, you traverse them all, ending your exploration with a light, but firm grip within the soft, messy tangle of his hair.

"Oi, you - "

You didn't give him a chance to go further, grip tightening, tugging him down to you once again.

This time, his lips met yours with a soft groan, tongue prising your mouth open, tasting you with relish, being tasted in turn.

You hold him there, back rising off the bed to press into him, thighs falling open beneath the downward shift of his body.

Tongues swirl and dip into each other, warmth smeared over your lips, across the sides of them as the kiss grows messier, more desperate.

Gintoki bucks against  you, harder than he was before, drawing a small gasp from you.

He seems to like that, because he does it again, and again, his slick length finding its unerring path across your abdomen.

His height has rendered him a little further above where he needs to be, and so, grasp still firm in his hair, you guide him, pushing him further down.

Tugged lower, he lets out a sound that has you pause, a soft, half-groan, on the edge of pleading.

Oh, he likes this.

So did you, come to think of it.

You like every new facet of him that you learn of, every scuffed page in the well-thumbed book of his life that he'd invited you to be part of.

It was a privilege, that you got to see him like this, unwound until he didn't have any defences left.

Before you had a chance to turn the tables, Gintoki took initiative himself. Hands curling around your waist, so big, so warm, he swaps places dizzyingly fast, lifting until he is lying prone, and you are hauled upright to straddle him.

His eyes gleam up at you, and in the light from the bedside lamp, he looks like some kind of spirit of the night that had wandered into your bed, wild, playful, the ripple of unyielding strength beneath supple skin, marked with old scars.

"Come on, ride me."

"Thought your back was hurting."

"Well, if I could lug Sadaharu around all day, my back could probably hold out. Bounce on it all ya want, not gonna do me any damage."

"Is that so?"

Taking him up on his challenge, you pass a hand between your bodies, grasping his firm, heated erection. He jerks forward in your grasp, but you have other plans for him.

Gintoki is heavy in your palm, a slight lean to him, not overly long, but thick in a way that made every entry feel like you were being stretched anew.

It seemed that you needed to re-acquaint yourself with every vein and ridge on him, and as far as you were concerned, there was only one way to accomplish this.

Settling over him, now that both of you are aligned correctly, you begin to rock against him, sliding along his length until the tip is just about to breach you, before falling back and repeating the motion.

His eyes are fixed on where your folds part, embracing him on either side, the sheen on your inner thighs that has been slowly building since before you'd taken your clothes off, serving to make your movements easier.

"Hmm ... so worried about puddles on your floor, and look how wet you are."

If he wants to be mouthy, you have no choice but to respond.

You slow your pace, pressing harder against him, massaging his flesh with yours, all while still denying him entry. Hips working purposefully over his, you give him a prelude to what you intend for later.

His eyes have glazed over, seemingly mesmerized by the sight of you on him, hands gripping you tighter.

Pleasure was building with every stroke, mounting to a gentle pressure that threatened to spill all over him.

You yelp slightly as a hard smack stings your buttocks.

Gintoki is now red in the face, breathing hard, sweat beginning to bead his brow.

"Oi, don't come without me. So fucking rude."

A breathless laugh escapes you, truncated as he drags you down towards him. Mouth beside your ear, he holds you in place.

"Put me inside you."

Half-complying, you closed your eyes briefly, allowing his tip to penetrate just past your entrance.

God, even with only this much inside, the stretch is so good.

"There, you're inside."

"You wanna play like this?"

You lean down, kiss him lightly, teasingly.

"Say 'please'."

"I'm gonna - goddamn vixen. Please."

A sudden sharp exhale as you take him all at once, a downward plunge of your hips as he slides home, that burning stretch eased by how wet you are for him.

Gintoki's whole body draws taut, mouth falling open, hands now clutching convulsively at your hips.

"Fuck. Fuck."

It was your turn to whisper to him, a promise laced with subtle mischief.

"Is that another command, sir?"

"God, you're so tight, so fucking hot - "

You drag a palm down his chest, reveling in the ripple of his abdomen as he fights to maintain control.

It isn't as if you are entirely unaffected.

Gintoki fits so perfectly inside you, that intoxicating blend of hard with yielding edges, solid enough to pierce and fill you, flexible enough to reach places inside you that send bursts of silver-flamed heat running through your body.

Fingernails sinking slightly into him, you anchor yourself before allowing him to slip further and further out, until just the tip is within once again, then sheathing him fully.

In spite of the heat building between you, your movements are controlled, within the bounds of awareness of how good you can make him feel.

Riding him with intent, just like he wants, rising to an upright position once again, you brace your knees on the bed and do as you please with him.

He is harder than ever inside you, the heat of him threatening to brand you with familiarity, pearly white traces building along his cock from your mingled arousal.

The way he watches you ignites like a forest fire across your skin, drinking in every lift and drop of your hips, the way he sinks so deep inside, the undulating of your body as you work up a rhythm.

Pausing in your movements, you placed a hand right above where you are joined, tilting your head back as you squeeze him inside you, muscles fluttering on the release.

He rises spasmodically beneath you, heels digging into the bed, a sound somewhere between a growl and a sob tumbling out of him, uncontrolled.

Nipples stiff and peaked beneath your wandering fingers, arms and thighs rigid and trembling, you know exactly how much he is holding himself back.

Gintoki can give as well as he takes, and there is beauty in that symmetry.

You start up your motions again, still steady, making an erotic game of it.

He is still transfixed by the sight of you, the way your hair has come undone, the bounce of your breasts, the soft, wet slaps of your skin against his, the way you ride him just the way he likes.

The next clamp of your walls around him catches him unexpectedly, as you intend. He utters a breathy moan, higher than the low, raspy sounds he'd been making before.

"Hnnnn, don't - I'm gonna - "

A finger over his lips, softer than the harsh buck of your hips.

"You won't. I've got you."

Power, ah, that was it.

He'll let you have this battle, laid out for your pleasure, because he knows you'll let him ruin your body as you do his.

You bait him with guerilla tactics, drawing him into your petal-soft heat, lulling him into the known dance of lovemaking, trapping him in your predatory vice, and he responds every time as you desire.

His hands never know where to settle, from grasping like a drowning man at your thighs and waist each time you grip him, to winding his fingers in the bedsheets above his head, grip white-knuckled, biceps and shoulders rolling and tensing.

The sounds he makes, however, are what drives you to distraction.

All pretense of holding back has deserted him.

Each scrape of your nails through the short, coarse hairs of his chest, each slow drop and squeeze around his cock, each playful tug on his hair has him whimpering, crying out, begging in fits and starts, low guttural moans torn from his throat before they're fully formed.

"Aaaah, fuck, I can't - killing me with that - hnnng - pretty, wet pussy, I - if you keep fucking going like that - "

You respond with a circle of your hips, the sheet beneath where he pierces you now thoroughly soaked.

This proves to be your undoing, surrendering to him in the hubris of your own climax, as the curve just below his tip strokes against that place inside you.

Every nerve in your body thrums to a white-hot, lancing stand-still, sweat tracing down the quivering curve of your spine, one last grasp of his flesh within yours.

These final throes prove too much for him too, and his arm comes up, circling your waist hard, trapping you against him as he howls out his own pleasure, broken and rough-edged.

For a few minutes you lay motionless, slumped against him, both of you breathing as if you'd just run a hundred miles.

Turning your nose into the side of his neck, damp from his exertions, scented intoxicatingly with his sweat, you manage to speak.

"Probably ... woke up all the neighbours."

He has one hand cast backwards over his eyes, hair standing in wild tufts from your repeated tugging.

"Your fault."

"Okay, it is my fault."

"Probably ... packin' their stuff. Must think ... world's gonna end."

"Oh, come on."

"Fuckin' me like it's our ... last day on earth. Woke the dead with your ... witch pussy."

You're laughing now, shoulders shaking with breathless mirth, because Gintoki's mindless pillow talk, right before he drifts off, is always priceless.

"Then you've got what? A warlock cock?"

He sniggers as you tug his hand away, revealing his sex-dazed expression.

"Warlock cock. I like that."

"You would. Hey, don't fall asleep. The sheets are in a state."

"Hmm. Nah. Let's sleep here. In our puddle."

"No. Bathroom. Now."

As you drag one of his heavy arms across your shoulders and pull him out of bed, it occurs to you that thios must feel something like carrying Sadaharu's dead weight around all day.

A mess of soft, pale hair pushes against your cheek, a decidedly fake snore reaching your ears as he pretends to fall asleep.

Eyebrow twitching in annoyance, you can't help but feel a simultaneous rush of deep affection.

'Warlock cock' or not, Gintoki has certainly woven some kind of enchantment over you, one that has little to do with each occasion you happen to fall into bed with him.

It's in the tramp of his boots on the cobblestones outside, the way his head falls with perfect timing into your cleavage after a long day, the walled distance in his eye when something jogs darker memories of times long past.

As with most parts of his life, you've been allocated your own precious niche, tucked somewhere between the demarcation of lover and friend. It's a space you have no choice but to occupy, because he chose to have you there.

It means that even if you decide to end this, he'd be at your side the instant you needed help, because the people he chose mattered far more to him than he ever let on.

It was worth it, that burgeoning, unspoken warmth you always felt at the mere sight of him, fluttering in some secret space of your own.

It was well worth it, you tried very hard to remind yourself, as he almost dragged you face first into the toilet on your way to the bathtub.

It takes all your self-control not to strangle the man, a side effect of the strained bond, but the anger becomes overtaken by the fear that follows when you can’t feel her within the city limits. You search the limits of your bond, trying to find her, but instead, you feel nothing. At least when you two were arguing, you could still pinpoint where she was. This is a kind of absence that makes your skin crawl. 

Your final resort is to wait outside her apartment door. Her scent is faint, showing that she has not been inside in a couple of days, but you don’t know where else to wait for her. You sit with your back pressed against the door, being completely ignored by all of her neighbors who walk by. You don’t know how long you sit there before it becomes overstimulating. 

The scents of every human in the building try to push their way past Olivia’s scent, which you attempt to cling to. You can smell her faintly under the door, but mostly you have been keeping one of her shirts pressed to your nose. She “accidentally” left it the other day when she slipped on your shirt to head out after her call. The smell is fading, but it is enough to keep you at bay while you wait. You just hope that she shows up sooner rather than later.  

Your forehead presses against your knees, trying to block out everything, when the elevator dings. Normally, you ignore it, but this time you can smell the person who steps off the platform. Your eyes shoot up to find Olivia running an anxious hand through her curls. Her thoughts bombard you in an onslaught of panicked thoughts. She is exhausted from the case, but mostly she is terrified about you. 

She is going to think I changed my mind about her moving in. She is going to think I left her, but I couldn’t get the asshole to confess. If only she had a fucking cellphone, I could have called her. What do I do? Where is she going to be?

You shoot to your feet, suddenly nervous as her gaze locks on yours. She blinks rapidly as if confirming that you are actually standing there and then breaks out into a sprint. She hurdles her body into you, and your arms immediately wrap around her. You breathe her in, letting the ache in your chest settle.

“You’re really here,” she whispers, her hands desperately clinging to your neck. “I was just about to go looking for you.”

“I am,” you mumble. “I'm sorry for intruding on your space and showing up unannounced. I just…I hadn't seen you in a couple of days. I wanted to make sure you were safe…and it sounds so silly now.”

“It isn’t silly at all,” she reassures you, never once loosening her grip. “I have been worried about you, too. I didn’t want you to think that I had changed my mind, but I couldn’t tell you that because you don’t have a phone.”

Your nose curls at the mention of the futuristic technology. “You mean those little brainwashing machines that everyone carries around in their pockets? Sounds awful.”

Olivia can’t help the laughter that spills out of her. “I love you.”

Your vision blurs, and a thrumming starts under your skin. The bond that was starting to disintegrate due to the distance comes back stronger. Soon, Olivia is all that you can smell, her presence trumping every other human in the building. You feel the beating of her heart as if it were your own. 

“Say it again,” you say, convinced that you must have misheard her. 

“I love you,” Olivia repeats, her cheeks burning a dark shade of red.

“Not as much as I love you,” you respond before smashing your lips to hers. 

The kiss is frantic, teeth crashing, until you tug down on her bottom lip. She lets out a large moan, which shoots right to your core. It also makes you realize how exposed you both are. You know her neighbors have been oblivious to your presence, but that doesn’t mean they should have free access to the show that is unfolding. You pull away just far enough to still feel her hot breath on your lips.

“You ready to show me around my new home?” You ask in a teasing murmur. 

There is a rush of emotions that courses through Olivia as she nods. It has been years since she shared her space with someone. There is a moment of anxiety that runs through her as she tries to remember if she even cleaned the apartment before she left. However, with you looking at her like she had delivered you the stars and the moon, it doesn’t really matter.

“Our home,” she says, tangling her fingers in yours. 

She pulls the keys from her pocket and slides them into the lock. There is a moment when the door swings open that you feel a rush of butterflies against her stomach. They are instantly soothed as she pulls you inside. 

Her apartment is exactly how you imagined it in your head. There are pictures of her and the rest of her squad scattered around, some books piled on tables, and case files spread everywhere.  Finally, your eyes catch onto a hoodie that is draped across the back of her couch. 

“Hey, I have been looking for that. When did you steal it from me?”

Olivia merely shrugs with a mischievous look in her eyes. “Doesn’t matter now, does it. You live here and so do all of your things.”

Your fingers curl into the loops of her slacks, and you pull her flush against you. Her arms automatically go to wrap around your shoulders like they were made to be there, which, honestly, they have been. Every part of Olivia seems to slot against you like a puzzle that finally found its missing piece. You gently nuzzle your face against her, encouraging her to meet your lips in a kiss. 

This kiss is just as desperate as the one in the hallway. Olivia attempts to fill it with all the words she doesn't know how to say. You don't need the explanation, though; you see the thoughts rushing through her mind. For once, Olivia can see the light at the end of the tunnel, the way through the darkness; instead of being drowned by it, she sees hope.

You move back to see Olivia’s pupils blown wide. Her cheeks burn a bright red, and her chest shakes as she tries to catch her breath. Her large inhales and exhales show the bite mark that has finally started to fade. The sight of your old fang indents is enough to send you into a spiral.

This is the desperation that is supposed to come with a bond. This all-consuming need to be touching and feeding off a partner. It is the only way to curb the desire that consumes every cell in your body after the initial connection. 

“Excited, my love?” You tease, already knowing the answer.

“More than excited,” she giggles softly. In a much quieter voice, she adds. “I’ve never been with a woman before.”

There is a shame that lingers in her thoughts after she admits it. You can tell that she is worried she won't be able to satisfy the desire that she knows lives inside of you. You merely smile at how wrong her worries are. Olivia could do next to nothing, and you would feel like the luckiest vampire alive. All you want is her. 

“That’s okay,” you say softly. Your hands move from her waist to her upper arms, stroking the bare skin and the hem of her sleeves. “The easiest way to explain it is it’s a lot like masturbating, you’re just doing it to someone else. But I‘ll show you and talk you through it.”

“Show me?” Olivia asks nervously.

“I'm assuming you have a mirror,” you say casually. Olivia nods, and you take her hand gently. “Then let me show you.”

It only takes a couple of seconds to pop Olivia’s full-length mirror off the door and prop it against the dresser. You settle Olivia at the edge of the bed in view of the glass. Her eyes immediately lock onto your reflection as you move to your knees.

“I can see you,” she whispers, amazed at this new information. 

You laugh as you slowly unzip her boots and toss them to the side. “You have been relying on Google vampire lore too much, my love. I can see my reflection.”

“Does this mean we can take a picture together?” She asks softly as you pull off her socks.

You pause to look up at her. Of all the things she could be asking right now, all she wants is a picture. A picture of you. Which from her thoughts alone you know she craves desperately. To have a piece of you she can take with her wherever she goes. So you give in, even though pictures are a complicated part of vampire life.

“Yes…we can take pictures together,” you reassure her, your hands gently opening her thighs. “We can even start now if you are interested.”

Olivia’s cheeks burn as you work to open the button of her slacks. “I…I…would rather just focus on you right now.”

“Next time, then,” you say as she lifts her hips to help you pull down her pants. “Also, the focus tonight is on you, baby.”

You spread her legs further apart, kiss up her inner thighs with soft open-mouth kisses. Olivia’s hands clutch at the sheets next to her hips as she tries to calm the beating in her heart. You give her a gentle bite at the apex of her hip that makes her whimper. 

Just as she thinks you are about to pull off her underwear, you sit up on your knees instead. Your hands fall to her waist as Olivia leans down to kiss you again. Your hands slowly slip beneath her shirt, fingers making lazy patterns on her skin. You feel her stomach muscles jump beneath your cold touch, goosebumps forming as your hands push her shirt further up. 

Her whole body stills when you pass over a scar along her ribs. You choose not to ask about it, merely lean forward to kiss it softly. Her breath hitches, and you wonder how long she has gone thinking her scars make her broken instead of strong. 

“You are gorgeous,” you murmur when you finally get her shirt over her head. “I love you.”

Her face is a beautiful pink as the compliment settles in her bones. “I love you too.”

Your hands go to unclip her bra, and you moan when it falls away, fully exposing her to you. You knew she was gorgeous, but you never knew she would look like a goddess sent down on this Earth just for you. That thought sends another moan down your lips. It is followed shortly by Olivia’s moan when one hand goes to cup her breast, your thumb gently flicking her nipple.

“So. Fucking. Perfect,” you growl.

Her fingers lace through your hair as you leave open-mouthed kisses on one breast while your hand kneads and pulls the other. Her eyes flick between looking down at you, your fangs barely poking out as you scrape her skin, and in the mirror where she can see you nestled between her legs.

“Baby,” she whimpers when you bite down gently on her nipple. 

Her hips arch towards you, and your free hand pushes her back towards the bed. You pull back slightly, kissing the breast you were just giving attention to. 

“I'm taking my time,” you murmur, kissing lightly on her other breast. “It’s not a race.”

Oliva wants to protest that yes, it is in fact a race. The kind of race where she needs you inside of her immediately, otherwise her skin may catch on fire. 

You grin at her thoughts, finally kissing down her stomach when you feel like you have given her chest ample attention. Her fingers gently scrape your scalp, attempting to encourage you to be faster. It doesn't work.

Instead, you attempt to memorize every inch of her skin with soft kisses and tiny scrapes of your teeth. Olivia’s legs are shaking now, her hips clenching around your body in an attempt to find any relief. You offer her none, content to map out everything Olivia has to offer you. You only pause when she whimpers in impatience.

“You are doing so good baby,” you murmur before your fingers slide to the hem of her underwear. “Now lift your hips.”

She complies eagerly, betraying how excited she is. You toss the underwear to the side, separating her legs even further apart. Your tongue comes out to lick your lips as you realize how wet she is.

“You are dripping, Liv,” you murmur, your finger gently swiping through her folds. 

Olivia stutters out a moan, her head tipping back as her curls cascade down her back. “It’s all for you.”

“Only me?” You question before you can stop yourself.

Her eyes flick down to yours as her hand goes to curl around the one that is resting on her hip. “Only you. I'm yours. Only yours.”

You grin at these words, and the last self-control you clung to slips through your fingers. You grab one of Olivia’s legs, throwing it over your shoulder, which catches her off guard for only a moment before you start licking her clit. 

“Oh shit,” she moans, her fingers tightening in your hair, caught off guard by the quick movement.

Olivia has been eaten out before, but never like this. Never with someone she loved. Never with someone’s tongue pressing hard against her clit and then gently slipping inside her. She bucks her hips against you, her eyes torn between watching you in the mirror and tugging your hair.

It is only when she bites down hard on her bottom lip to stop a particularly loud moan that you stop. She whimpers at the sound loss of your tongue on her, and her body involuntarily clenches around something that isn't there.

“Don't hold back,” you tell her, watching as her chest heaves from trying to catch her breath. “I want to hear you. You sound sexy, and I love knowing that I'm the one who does that to you.”

She merely nods, her thoughts flustered by the fact that you easily slipped one finger inside of her. You click your tongue before sliding in a second, momentarily curling them so her hips jump towards you.

“Come on, baby, I told you I want to hear you. Now give me what’s mine.”

She moans this time as your fingers curl to that perfect spot inside her. “All yours,” she pants, fingers curling back around your hand. “Please.”

She doesn’t even know what she is begging for, just knows that the plea forces you back to her. You don't hold back this time, sucking on her clit in perfect sync with the bump of your fingers.

Olivia’s eyes are glued to the mirror now. Her one leg shakes around your shoulder while the other one extends towards the floor, trying to stabilize herself. Her chest and cheeks burn a bright red as she works hard to control her breath. 

The most interesting part of the image in the glass is you, though. The way your body moves in sync with hers, hair tangled in her fingers to bring her closer and closer to the edge. Which finally spills over when you bite down gently on her clit.

Her whole body arches up to you as a series of whimpering moans falls from her mouth. You think about stopping until you realize she is still moving against you. Even after your fingers slow, she continues to grind against your face like she can’t get enough.

“Don't stop, don’t,” she whines, collapsing back onto her elbows, mirror entirely forgotten. “Don't fucking stop.”

You grin before redoubling your efforts. Your fingers thrust hard against her, stopping for only a moment to add a third to the mix. You can tell that alone sends her closer to another orgasm as she clenches around your fingers. It comes seconds later when your tongue presses down hard on her clit. Her body arches off the bed, and her thighs shake.

“Oh god…oh shit…oh god,” she moans out as her body rides and then crashes from her high.

When her body finally relaxes, you pull out of her gently. She grunts at the loss, whimpering when you place one final soft kiss on her clit. 

As you stand, she grabs for your wrist weakly. She pulls you towards her so that she can wrap her mouth around the three fingers that were just inside of her. Your eyes flutter close as a moan escapes you, but you recover quickly.

“You know,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss the side of her mouth. “My name isn’t oh god, but it sure does sound good when it leaves your mouth.”

Her laugh is shaky as she gently slaps your arm. “Shut up.”

“Never,” you grin, kissing her gently. “You did amazing, baby.”

Her cheeks burn at the compliment, eyes watching you as you go to stand up. “Where are you going?”

“To get you cleaned up.”

The pout that forms on her lips is instant, her legs coming to wrap around you so you can't move. “It’s my turn.”

“Olivia, you don't have to,” you tell her as you watch her body struggle to find equilibrium.

“I want to make you feel as good as you just made me feel,” she protests. “Now get undressed and get up here.”

You know you should put up more of a fight, but with her leaning up on her elbows, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and her pulse thudding against her neck, you can’t say no. She moves higher on the bed so she isn’t hanging off the edge and watches as your clothes join hers on the floor. Her eyes trace every curve of your skin, and for once, you feel adored by the person you are about to sleep with.

“You are absolutely stunning,” she murmurs, her eyes never leaving yours as you crawl next to her. “I can’t believe you are all mine.”

The words make her body vibrate with a joy you never knew you needed. Your hand comes to cup her cheek as you both lie on your side. 

“Yours, forever,” you promise, leaning to kiss her. When you pull away, you murmur, “I'm never leaving you.”

The words release something in Olivia that pushes past her own exhaustion and morphs it into something of a hungry beast. She kisses you frantically, pulling down on your bottom lip until you moan.

It continues like this for a while until Olivia’s hand finally drifts towards your chest. She cups your breast experimentally, feeling the weight of it for a moment before she squeezes. You moan into the softening kiss when she pulls at your nipple. At first, it is hesitant, trying to figure out what you like.

“Harder,” you whisper as she gains more confidence. “Just like that, baby,” you moan when she pulls harder and rolls it between her thumb and index finger.

She kisses along your jaw as her hand continues to work on your breast. Your hand curls into her hair when her teeth nip harshly just beneath your ear. You are so lost in the sensation of her lips and teeth working down your neck that you don't even notice when her free hand slips between your legs. 

Olivia expects to find heat radiating there, similar to what she is experiencing, but instead, she is met with a chill. Despite being used to how cold you feel, her concern is immediate.

“I’m okay,” you reassure her, your grip in her hair softening so you can briefly run your fingers through it. You moan when her hand strokes your inner thigh, and the temperature difference makes your legs spread wider in search for more. “I know it feels odd.” 

She finally looks up at you then, and for once her eyes don’t give her away, but the bond does. She feels a little guilty for reacting the way she did. She should have known you would be cold everywhere. You both part your lips as if to respond to one another — presumably with different responses — but Olivia discards hers in favor of a hot, open-mouthed kiss against your breast that makes you relax against the mattress. 

The moment her fingers find your clit and her mouth latches to your nipple, you moan loudly as your chest arches toward her, and your hips grind against her hand. Your fangs extend fully to compensate for the arousal that shoots through you. Your hand curls tighter into her hair as she finds a rhythm. Your legs twitch, and Olivia can't help but steal glances upward at the desire that is coated across your face. 

“That’s it, baby, keep doing that,” you moan, opening your legs wider to try and get Olivia to go where you need her the most.

She takes the nonverbal hint and automatically slides two fingers inside of you. Your back arches as you start trying to rock into her. Any worries that Olivia had when tonight started have completely washed away. She curls her fingers inside of you, matching the rhythm that you had earlier for her.

“I'm so close,” you tell her, and then groan when her thumb comes to flick your clit in time with her thrusts. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. Don't stop, baby. Don't stop.”

You cum seconds later, your body curling towards her as your pleasure crashes over in waves. You can tell she wants to coax another one out of you, but you gently pull at her wrist.

She pulls back, concern flickering for a moment before you pull her into a soft kiss.

“It’s been…awhile,” you admit, pecking her lips one more time. “One is enough for me today.” She nods in understanding as you curl her towards you. “You did great, baby.”

“I had a great teacher,” she teases, making you both laugh. 

—-----

Once you are both cleaned up, you lie in bed curled against each other. Her head rests on your chest, her fingers tracing nonsense patterns on your skin while she finds her way back to her body again. Your coldness helps accelerate the temperature drop of her body, so you adjust the covers tighter around her. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, and you realize that she never really does. 

Ever since the first time you fed on her, she has always wanted to be touching you. At first, you thought it was the bond, but it goes much deeper than that. Olivia touches you to make sure you are real. To make sure that you aren’t going to disappear in the night and never come back. Your hands circle tighter around her as if to prove that you aren’t going anywhere. That lying here, curled in bed with her, is the only place that you want to be.

“Penny for your thoughts,” you whisper, kissing her softly on the top of the head. 

“I just can't believe you are real…that this feels so right,” Olivia says.

You hum in agreement. “I can't wait to be here when you get home every day.” You kiss her forehead gently. “To hold you while you sleep every night.” You kiss her lips. “And to be able to kiss you every morning before you go to work.”

When you pull away from the kiss, there is a dreamy look in Olivia’s eyes. “I can’t believe that you are mine.” She lays her head back on your chest as her whole body begins to relax again. “I love you.”

“My love, I have been waiting centuries for someone like you. It should be me who can’t believe my luck right now,” you say as you tuck the covers tighter around you. You place a kiss on the top of her head as you squeeze her one more time. “Now get some sleep and know that I will always love you.”

You can feel the way Olivia’s heart flutters at the words. You don’t need to go into her mind to know the words have struck home. She is happy, she is loved, she is safe, and that is all it takes for her to drift off to sleep.

-

Taglist

You’d made it exactly forty-two minutes before sneaking upstairs. Forty-two minutes of fake laughter, tight smiles, and your stepmother introducing you as "our little darling" like you were a rescue poodle. You knew this world inside and out—had grown up attending galas like this since you were old enough to toddle in patent leather shoes. It was all an exhausting pantomime. Your family’s wealth stretched back generations—old money, museum-donor, building-name-on-the-wing kind of money. And with that came expectation: charm, poise, silence, discipline. The good daughter. The pretty one. The polished porcelain kept on the top shelf.

But lately, the mask had started to slip. You weren’t sure when it began. Maybe it was the third boarding school, or the fourth therapist. Maybe it was the year you turned twenty and realized you didn’t care about charity auctions or legacy internships. You were supposed to inherit the world, and all you wanted was to escape it.

The dress tonight was Dior—custom-fitted, a shade of moonlit pearl that clung to your hips like obligation. Your hair had been twisted into something that would hurt by the end of the night, and you were wearing earrings that once belonged to your great-grandmother, the kind that required insurance. And none of it felt like yours.

You set the glass down and checked your phone.

Nothing from him.

Yet.

The screen glowed in the dim rooftop lighting. You opened your messages, thumb hovering. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t.

But your lungs itched, your throat burned for something more than champagne, and your skin felt too tight in this couture prison of a dress. You needed out. Not just from the party, but from the whole fucking night.

You opened your texts and scrolled until you found him.

you up?

A beat. Then another. Then:

i need to get out of here. i’m going to lose it.

are you close?

please.

You exhaled like you'd been holding your breath for the past hour, which… honestly? Maybe you had.

Another 20 minutes pass by and you started to give up hope. Maybe he was already sleeping. Or just with another girl or guy or whatever. Clearly you were not getting saved by your knight in shining armor. Until your phone buzzes once more.

im outside

You down another glass of champagne before making your way outside. He was here, in his 2007 Honda CR-V. Still fairly new, only a few years old. But a punishment from his parents nonetheless, for crashing his BMW the summer after highschool ended.

Climbing into the passenger side and shutting the door behind you, you can already tell what he had been doing that night, “So you’re not gonna share?”

He laughs, pulling away from the venue to park in an empty parking lot. “Been here less than 2 minutes and you’re already making demands. I rolled a fresh new joint just for you, princess.” It’s demeaning. A nickname he gave to you after a different late night smoke session where you opened your heart out about how being in this uppity world feels. Yet it still fuels the pit in desire you feel in your stomach. It’s been building for some time now.

He smirks, leaning over to open the glove box. He takes out his grinder, rolling tray, and rolling papers. He takes a little baggy out of his hoodie pocket and gets to work. You watch him intently. He’s focused. More than focused that he ever was at school or his latest tennis matches. He takes this craft seriously. More seriously than the craft that’s supposed to pay his bills.

Licking the paper to place his final seal, “The perfect joint. Best one I’ve rolled all week,” he murmurs. Holding it between two fingers with the mouth end facing you. You take it from him expectantly, placing it between your lips loosely. He takes out the roach he had tucked on top of his ear like a pencil to bring to his lips. Lighting it up, being careful not to burn his fingers.

You look at him, eyelids low with fake annoyance, head tilted in waiting. He knows you never carried lighters. You didn’t smoke enough to. You don’t smoke without him. This was maybe the third time you ever have. With your back pressed against the car door and your body shifted so you can face him. He rolls his eyes, leaning over the center console to light the joint between your lips.

You take a drag, blowing the smoke directly in his face. He smiles, finishing the roach to toss it out the window. You knew it would be long before he asked for yours.

“You’re getting good at that. Be careful, people might think you’re a stoner.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,” He can hear the glint of mischief in your voice. But there’s was something deeper underneath. Tier to your utter dislike of the world you had to live in. Fancy parties, gallery opening, charity benefits. Appearances meaning everything. Your parents planning out every step of your life. You having no say. You’re sure they wouldnt be happy about this. This was not apart of their plan.

He studies you for a second too long. The curve of your cheek in the streetlight. The way your gown is folded awkwardly in the cramped seat, hitched up just enough to show the expensive sheen of your thigh. Smoke curls from your lips like you were born for it. He swallows something that tastes a lot like trouble. There’s a flicker of something darker in his eyes—like he’s watching a secret unfold just for him. Like the sight of you in his world, already a little undone, is his favorite kind of victory.

You glance at him, eyes narrowed. "What?"

He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "Just thinking how funny it is. You, sitting in my busted-ass car, looking like that."

You smile lazily, teeth barely showing. "Maybe I like busted things."

His gaze drops to your mouth. "That right?"

You take another drag. Hold it. Blow it slow, right past his lips. He doesn’t move.

The tension is thick—coated in weed smoke and something warmer. Hungrier. Your hand lowers, brushing the edge of the console, knuckles grazing his. Not on purpose. Not really.

But you don’t pull away.

His fingers shift just slightly, meeting yours. It’s barely a touch—more suggestion than contact—but it shoots heat up your arm like he’d kissed the inside of your wrist. You can feel the air change, the quiet crackle between you.

He doesn't look at you right away, just passes his joint back with a casual, "You good?"

You nod. You take it from him and inhale deep, holding it for a beat too long, eyes locked on the slouch of his shoulders, the lazy way his legs are spread. When you hand it back, your fingers brush again. Deliberately.

His mouth quirks. Not quite a smile. Not yet.

The tips of his fingers trail from your knuckles up to your wrist—lazy, exploratory, like he’s just thinking out loud with touch. He taps the back of your hand gently, then lets his fingers slide up the soft skin of your forearm, featherlight.

Your breath hitches. Just once.

He leans in. “Princess,” he says low, amused. “You’re fidgeting.”

“Am I?”

“You’re squirming.”

You meet his eyes. Challenge blooming in your chest. “And what if I am?”

He lets his fingers keep going. Slow and smug. “Then I’d say you’re high. Or bored. Or...” His hand brushes the bare skin above your knee now. "Just looking for a better way to pass the time."

You don’t answer.

Because you know exactly which one it is.

You shift a little closer. Your knees could touch now—just barely. The air between you is humid with tension and weed and your perfume, some expensive jasmine blend that clings to your skin and his memory.

His hand lingers at your thigh, but this time it doesn’t just brush—it settles. Warm, solid, fingers splayed casually like they belong there. He watches your face the whole time, like he’s waiting for you to flinch. You don’t.

You lean forward again. Not for the joint. For him.

His breath catches before he can school it. You’re so close now, he could count your lashes, could taste the ghost of champagne on your breath if he dared to lean just half an inch more.

You tilt your head. “Still think I’m fidgeting?”

He laughs, but it’s quiet. Strained. A little rough. "No."

Then you swing one leg over the center console. Onto his lap. Slow. Intentional. Your dress rides up, the fabric pooling around your thighs as you settle, straddling him in the front seat like it's the most natural place in the world.

His breath catches—like he can't believe you're actually doing it. Or maybe like he can, because he knew you'd end up here eventually. They always do, when he pulls just right.

His hands go to your hips automatically. Instinct.

And now you're both holding your breath.

His hands grip your hips a little tighter—firm, possessive, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you. Your hands find his shoulders, warm under the hoodie, and you press into him just slightly, enough to make his breath stutter. His head tips back against the seat, and that’s all the invitation you need.

You kiss him.

It’s slow at first. Curious. His lips part with a quiet sigh against yours, and your fingers curl into the fabric at his shoulders. You kiss him like you’ve been meaning to for a while, like you’re tasting the idea of him. Weed and mint gum and something soft, unexpected. He hums into your mouth, one hand sliding up your back, finding the zipper of your dress but not tugging—just resting there, like a promise.

Then he kisses you back like he’s starving.

His mouth moves against yours with a sudden urgency, teeth grazing your lower lip, his other hand gripping your thigh hard enough to make you gasp. You shift in his lap and feel him already hard beneath you, and it makes you move again—just enough to draw a reaction. He groans into your mouth.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, breath warm against your cheek.

“Shut up,” you whisper, kissing him again, deeper this time, rolling your hips once—twice—until he’s cursing and dragging you closer.

His hands slide up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just beneath where your dress has ridden up. He pushes it higher, bunching the delicate fabric around your waist, exposing you fully to his hands, to his eyes, to the heat blooming between you.

“You’re seriously in Dior right now,” he says, voice low and wrecked, eyes flicking down to where the silk is gathered around your hips.

“And you’re seriously hard in sweatpants,” you shoot back, breathless.

He laughs, sharp and dizzy, before pulling you into another kiss—this one filthier, deeper, with his hand sliding beneath the hem of your panties like he’s done it a hundred times before.

And maybe, in his head, he has.

Your head falls forward onto his shoulder as his fingers find exactly where you’re already wet for him. “Fuck,” he says into your hair. “You’re soaked.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, mouth at the base of his throat. “So do something about it.”

He does.

Patrick’s fingers start slow—just the faintest brush along your slit, dragging through the wetness he found like he has all the time in the world. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes half-lidded, watching every little twitch of your mouth, the way your lashes flutter when he circles your clit with the pad of his finger.

You grind down into his hand, chasing pressure, but he pulls back just a touch. Not enough to stop, just enough to make you feel how deliberately he’s holding back. “Pat—”

“Shhh,” he breathes, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Let me take my time with you.”

One finger slips inside, slow and deep. Your jaw goes slack. You cling to his hoodie, nails digging in, and he groans at the feel of you clenching down around him already.

“So fucking tight,” he murmurs, kissing your neck now, biting softly just below your jaw. “You get like this at every gala, or just when you’re slumming it with me?” His voice drips with something filthy—amusement, maybe. Or pride. Like he likes knowing he’s the one who makes you forget what you’re supposed to be.

You don’t answer. Can’t. Not when he’s curling his finger just right, when his thumb is back on your clit, drawing soft, steady circles that make your thighs shake.

He adds a second finger, and you gasp—hips jerking, breath hitching. “There she is,” he says, mouth ghosting over your collarbone. “Knew you’d let go for me.”

“All that polish and pedigree, and you’re falling apart in my lap,” he whispers, more to himself than you. Like he’s savoring it.

The rhythm is relentless but controlled. He fucks you with his fingers like he’s playing a game he’s already mastered—like he’s memorized every sound you make and exactly what each one means. Your hips start moving without thought, chasing every press of his hand, every graze of his knuckles.

“Patrick,” you gasp. It’s all you can manage—his name, like a warning.

He slows. Eyes locked on yours. Thumb easing off your clit.

“Not here,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “Not like this.”

You blink at him, dazed.

“I want you,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then another just below your ear. “But I want space. I want to lay you out. You deserve more than cramped angles and my fucking center console digging into you.”

You exhale shakily, heart racing. Then you smirk.

“Isn’t that what the backseat’s for?”

His eyes darken. Your answer hits him like a spark to dry tinder. He smiles, crooked and dangerous. “Yeah. That’s exactly what it’s for.”

“After you Princess,” he nods towards the space between the two front seats. You made your way to the backseat as gracefully as you could, crawling between two car seats. You stop to sit on the center console with your back facing him.

Moving your hair so the dress zipper is exposed, he gets the message, unzipping your dress. Taking his time. His eyes follow from the nape of your neck all the way down your now exposed spine. He traces lightly, fingers ghosting the slight curve of your spine. All the way down until he stops right above the waistband of your panties, “No bra?” he questions barely above a whisper.

You continue pulling your dress and panties off until you’re left in nothing. Leaving both articles of clothing abandoned in the passenger seat where you once sat. Before making your way to the back seat finally.

You sit on the right side, back pressed against the soft cushiony seat. You could sit here and explain the intricacies of Women’s clothing and the decision making process behind when to wear a bra and when not to, but instead you opt for the more fitting, “Are you complaining?”

It’s more of a rhetorical question. His eyes are already locked on your exposed boobs, nipples hardening from the light chill of the AC. His eyes drag across your body until he reaches your eyes. Smirking just to add, “Me? Complain about you? Never.” Rolling your eyes to hide how the light sarcasm in his tone is turning you on more than it should.

He follows, sitting right next to you. Clothed thigh pressed against your bare one, but not for long. He takes off his hoodie (no t-shirt underneath, shocker), sweatpants, and boxer briefs, with a sense of urgency.

He pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him, mirroring the position you were just in minutes ago. You both lock eyes. His eyes roam your face like he’s trying to immortalize this moment. Cradling the back of your jaw, while grazing his thumb across your bottom lip. Without a second thought, you open your mouth slowly. Maintaining that eye contact while sucking his thumb into your mouth.

He sucks in a breath, subconsciously biting his bottom lip. You suckle his thumb, swirling your tongue around it, tasting yourself. The grip on your waist tightens, his fingertips digging into your skin and pulling you closer. Letting his hardness slide back and forth between your folds aided by your slick. A small whimper caught in your throat as his tip catches against your clit.

You see the way his eyes darken despite being surrounded by the darkness of the night. Like a switch flips in his head, he can’t wait any longer.

He cradles the back of your head as he changes positions, laying you down on the seats while he hovers over you. Slowly pushing inside you so you could really feel him filling you up inch by inch. You can feel the way your body stretches to accommodate his size. Your walls gripping him, sucking him in, in a way that makes his jaw tense. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles against the crook of your neck where his head had fallen.

“Patrick,” you gasp as he bottoms out. Nails digging into his upper back pulling another moan out of him. He starts his strokes off slow. Like he’s trying to savor the moment. Or maybe he’s trying to ingrain his spot in your body.

He lifts his head up, green eyes meeting yours. The sliver of light descending from the street light cascades across his face, allowing you to really see him for the first time tonight. You always used to tease him saying his eyes were actually hazel and not green, but up close you can tell he was right. Freckles sprayed over his face. They were your favorite physical feature about him, but you’d never tell him that. His brow was furrowed, the effort he was exerting visible. Sweat starting to form as he picks up the pace, “Fuck Princess, you’re so fucking tight. Gonna be the end of me I swear.” Not a hint of sarcasm behind the nickname.

Moans falling past your lips after he adjusts his angle to hit that spongy spot inside of you. But you can’t let him think he’s got you, yet, “Don’t tell me you’re close already,” you try to say as smooth as you can but the breathiness laced in your words gives you away.

He pulls out, making you whine at the loss. Wiping the sweat on his forehead before grabbing your hips to flip you over. Slumped over with your head resting on the seat while your ass sticks up in the air. He pushes back inside of you, quick and easy with how wet you are , “Big words for someone who’s dripping for my cock.”

He takes a moment. You can hear the lighter spark twice behind you, followed by the light sizzle of Patrick taking a drag from the previously forgotten joint. He keeps one hand on your hip, pulling you back to meet his thrusts over and over again. Other hand free to help him continue smoking.

You can’t see him, but the mental image combined with him assaulting that perfect spot inside of you is getting you really close to the edge, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Patrick! I’m so ah—you’re so deep.”

He takes another drag, not letting up on his pace, “Yeah does it feel good? Me fucking my cock so deep inside you. Shit. Taking it so well.”

You nod, the side of your face dragging against the fabric of the car seat. You’re slamming your hips back to continue meeting his thrusts while you move one hand underneath you to start playing with your clit. Rubbing back and forth, Patrick’s balls slapping against your folds while his cock presses up against your g-spot and, “Ah ah I’m coming, fuck Patrick. I’m coming, I’m coming oh fuck.”

“There we go,” he grunts as your walls spasm around his cock. He places what’s left of the joint in a cup holder before gripping your hips with both hands so he can finish. Using your body to get off, your slick and cum starting to pool around the base of his cock. A few more hard thrusts and, “Shit baby, so fucking hot. Came all over my dick ah, m’gonna cum. Your tight fucking pussy ah—shit, fuck Princess, fuck,” he’s spilling inside you. Staying all the way pressed inside, ensuring you take it all.

After he pulls out, his hands rest on your ass. Fingers spread over your cheeks as he holds you open to stare at where he’s filled you up. Still trying to even out his breathing, “I don’t have any napkins or wipes in here.”

Blissed out from your orgasm you just hum in acknowledgment. Lazily you start, “So how am I gonna—“ you get caught off by the feeling of Patrick’s tongue diving into your hole. It’s slow and deliberate. Half like he’s trying to clean you up and half like he’s trying to make another mess. You wince from the overstimulation but whimper from the pleasure. “Patrick,” you whine. Subconsciously pushing back on his tongue a little bit. It didn’t take long until you were clean (debatable). The cum being replaced with spit.

He leans back to sit, grabbing the joint and lighter again before resting against the car door. You maneuver yourself so you’re sitting next to him. He throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling your face towards his chest. You watch in silence as he sparks the joint once again. Taking a drag before wordlessly placing the joint at your lips. You inhale while he holds it, exhaling after he moves it away.

You both sit there in silence. Skin to skin. You can hear the steady rhythm on his heart beat from where your ear is pressed against his chest. Silence broken by Patrick after another drag, “Wanted to do that since forever.”

“The fucking me part or the smoking while fucking me part?”

“Both,” he lets out a low chuckle. Giving you the last hit before he rolls down the window to toss out the roach and air out the mixture of smells in his car, sweat, weed, and sex.

He was supposed to be here yesterday, but he never appeared. She hadn’t thought much about it. In fact, she’d been grateful. She rewarded herself with a long, hot steam bath in the apartment’s soaking tub and prayed that he’d been reassigned.

Suddenly, there was a polite knock on her door. She checked her watch. 2253.

Her sidearm slipped deftly into the band of her leggings, nestled at the small of her back, and she kept one hand on it as she flipped the latches on the door. Leaving the chain on, she cracked it to see who it was.

Shadowing her doorstep in the dark, skinny hallway was a tall, heavily muscled man. His face was tanned, scruffy, and the mohawk that she’d been expecting had been shorn off, trimmed short to the scalp in a unified buzz. He was wearing a blue and white puffer, black cargos, and a black knit sweater, all a little dirtier than what they should’ve been. When she met his eyes, the paleness of them shocked her. They were glacial, like two rings of ice, bright and striking, and staring right at her.

His smile spread across his face, and he looked down at her from his towering height, adjusting his duffle over his shoulder as he spoke,

“Sorry I’m late, lass. Gonnae make me sleep in the wee hall?”

“The plain looks lovely this time of year,” she offered him the passcode, and he rolled his eyes at her. But, he responded correctly in a sarcastic voice,

“Without the daisies?”

She shut the door. Taking her gun out of her waistband, she put it back into its hiding place on the side of the door. Then, before she unlatched the chain, she took a long breath, fixing her face.

If he was going to be with her on this mission, she’d need to figure out a way to deal with him. Better to start off on the right foot.

The chain popped free and she opened the door wider, stepping aside to welcome him in.

Right away, he began to appraise the space. To his credit, he slid off his boots right inside the doorway, kicking them off at the heels and letting them tumble beside her own. Then, he dropped his bag off, letting it rest on the floor. His jacket began to peel from his shoulders, and the fingerless gloves that he was wearing got shoved into a coat pocket until he was unencumbered, gazing around at the apartment in wonder.

“Well,” she sighed, catching his attention, “I’m Hunter.”

“Och, forgive me. Call me Johnny,” he reached out for her hand, and she let him shake it. “Been a long time since I’ve had a safehouse as braw as this one. Can you give me the wee tour?”

His expression was so bright and earnest. In fact, it was difficult for her to even tell he was the ruthless killer that had been described in his dossier. Standing before her, fiddling with a little ceramic puffin he’d picked up from the entryway table, was Sergeant Johnny MacTavish, Scottish recruit into the SAS as the youngest operator ever at sixteen years old, responsible for the bombing of Aqtabi in 2022 - a precision kill of eight of the top ten Konni generals - almost a hundred confirmed sniper kills since he joined the 141, and one of the Solntsevskaya Bratva’s most wanted.

“Yeah, sure,” she nodded, taking the puffin from him and putting it back where it belonged, “C’mon.”

She led him beyond the small alcove of the entrance and up a small set of steps into the kitchen. It was galley-style, and very small, but it was enough. All of the appliances were brand new, and the Bay View Apartment builders had installed heating throughout the floors, making the black tiles warm against their socked feet.

“Kitchen,” she said as they pushed right on by it, and he hummed politely.

He peeked down at her paperwork scattered all over the dining table, his observant glance taking in more than just a cursory look.

“Den,” she pointed to the leather, eight-person sectional that fit squarely in the small room, as if it had been made for it. The leather was a soft camel color, contrasting with the black tiles and the dark gray walls, and she had found a few fur blankets to stay insulated as she worked from her spot on the couch at night.

Instead of entering the den, she took a left into the only bedroom, gesturing to the bed as if it wasn’t obvious. She wasn’t sure what they were going to do about the fact that there was only the one mattress, but they’d discuss trading off before they turned in tonight, she was sure.

Then, she popped open the door to the bathroom on the far side of the bedroom, leading him into the spa-like alcove. There were two sinks, a very modern toilet-bidet combo, a shower with two rain-style showerheads, and a large soaking tub with a picture window view of the ocean.

“Bathroom,” she said with a finality in her voice.

He whistled, musically so, and leaned on the edge of the tub, staring out of the window at the Northern Lights, watching the waves crash and tumble just as she had from the windows in the den.

“This is pure dead brilliant, innit?” He turned to her with an honest joy in his eyes that surprised her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, hearing her voice echo in the small bathroom, “I can’t complain. But we should talk about the bed situation.”

“Och, aye,” Johnny sighed, moving past her back towards the den, “I’m knackered. Nothin’ like sleepin’ on the ground for two nights, Jesus.”

“The ground?” She followed behind him, confused.

He pulled out his phone and showed her photos of him standing on top of Thorbjarnarfell, a mountain in the southern part of Iceland. Then, he flipped a few times, letting her see bits of his hike, and finally a dip into the hot springs at Blue Lagoon, surrounded by the few brave tourists who’d come to visit in the winter time.

“Such a bonnie wee country. Cannae believe it took me so long to see it. Thanks for puttin’ me on your team, lass.”

“What the fuck?” She furrowed her brow, “You were here for two days?”

“No,” he shook his head, closing off his phone and bending down to dig in his duffle. “Been here about a week or so.”

“And you failed to report in?” she sniped.

Johnny looked up at her, surprise and confusion in his eyes,

“Well, dinnae fash yourself, hen. I’m here now. Besides, I’m sure you got work done without me. Laswell warned me that you were more of a lone wolf, right?”

Yes, he was right, but that wasn’t the fucking point. They could’ve been hunting down some of her leads while he was galavanting off along the mountains and having a goddamn spa day.

“You’re on the couch,” she snapped. As soon as she moved to grab her paperwork off the table and pack it away, he grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

She pulled away from him, but he held fast. Most of the time, normal men couldn’t trap her like this. She was too strong. But, Johnny didn’t even seem phased by her attempted retreat. He had that same earnest look on his face, asking her,

“Wha’s wrong, bonnie?”

“You…” She pulled her arm again, and this time she broke free, but deep in her gut she knew it was only because he allowed her to go, “I just… nevermind,” she wiped a hand down her face, taking note for the first time what she was wearing.

She’d lit the fire in the den, and she wasn’t paying the light bill, so she’d turned up the heat, enjoying the luxury while she had it, and as time went on, she’d been dressing less and less… professionally… the more time she spent alone in the apartment. Tonight, she was in thin, cotton leggings and a cropped white tee that hung off of her shoulder, two sizes too big. And nothing else.

She tried not to give in to the urge to immediately cross her arms over her chest and cover up her obvious nipples. It was too late for that. This Scottish brute was still standing there, waiting for an answer.

“I’m sure you’re tired from your vacation,” she couldn’t help but lace her words with some acidity. “I’ll take the couch tonight, and we can just switch off tomorrow. Whatever.”

“Why? I dinnae snore, lass. I promise,” he smiled.

Was he kidding? The thought that he’d just been fucking with her this whole time made her blood run hot.

“You can’t be serious,” she pushed around the table, stacking her dossier up so that she could take it to the sectional with her. She could get some more work done while he was asleep. He might just be here for a vacation, but she was here to stop a criminal.

“Is your fella gonnae tan my hide if he finds out we shared a sheet?” he laughed.

“No,” she frowned at him, ready to bite back.

“Sorry, lass. Your missus, then?”

“No! Just… I don’t have a - you know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m not tired anyway.”

The feeling of a warm, cozy bed sounded better and better as she denied it for herself, but she tried her best to ignore that part of her brain. She was also suddenly reminded that she’d be seeing this man out of his sweater, and those immense shoulders would be rolling around in her blankets, or perhaps they’d be stretching in front of the wide window in the morning, or maybe gleaming wet from the warm plunge bath…

She shook herself out of that vision and tried to return to her work. Shipment weight reports… right… 21,496 kilos…

“Alright,” he plopped down next to her with a thud, slinging his arm around the back of her seat as he sank into the sectional and peered over her shoulder. “Fill me in, bonnie. Laswell said I’m posin’ as your wee husband. Some lad in the shipping industry, yeah? Oh! Tha’ reminds me. Almost forgot ‘em…”

He dug around in his pockets, raising his hips to allow his hand to fumble inside of the pocket of his trousers. Then, he pulled out a small box and popped open the lid right under her nose.

“Til death do us part, bonnie.”

His laughter washed over her as she sat there in mild shock, staring down at a gold ring adorned with an intricate celtic knot design along its circumference. She reached up to take it from him, staring into the box in a sort of disbelief.

This cannot be happening, she thought, her breath catching in her throat.

“You dinnae like it?” he asked, his tone still just as genuine as before.

Why the fuck would he care if she liked it? Where was the man who’d killed hundreds of men with bombs that he’d made with his own goddamn hands? Where was the most ruthless soldier the English crown had ever seen at such an age? Who was this… attractive - no. She stopped herself. Find another adjective.

“Here,” he interrupted her thoughts and took the box back from her and plucked the ring from its velvet perch.

Then, he held out his palm, open towards her, asking for her to put her left hand into his right so that he could slip the band over her skin.

She hesitated, staring at his invitation just a bit too long, before she finally relented, placing her hand in his, trying her best not to enjoy how welcoming his touch was against her fingers. Then, she watched as the gold ring slipped perfectly into place like it had been made for her.

“Got a matchin’ one, myself. See?” He dug around in his pocket some more before producing another gold band, the same shape as hers but much thicker. Then, he slid it on, showing her the result.

“Okay, well…” She tried to find something to say about this - what was it? Gift?

“Gotta learn each other’s favorite colors and ice cream flavors, just in case,” he muttered, flipping through her files and putting them in the wrong order in the stack.

She snatched back her paperwork, and clipped her words,

“Why? Who gives a fuck about my favorite color?”

“Your husband has to know your favorite color, lass. Surely.” He seemed offended that she would imagine a world otherwise. “If it comes up in conversation, I dinnae want to look like the bastard who doesnae care about his missus.”

Between long, purposeful breaths, she tried to stop her thoughts from slamming through her mind at a breakneck pace. She was disrupted. She was exhausted. She was frustrated and lost. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was, but she needed it to stop.

“Can you just… Why don’t you shower? I’ll hop in after you’re done. Then… if you, uh… want to hear about my research, I’ll tell you what I know. We need to plan our first surveillance. There’s a shipment coming… where is it?” She flipped through the pages. “Ah! Yeah, this one. Two days from now. I think that’s one of Magnus’ ships. We should figure out a way to intercept. Laswell sent a memo about a charity event tomorrow. He might make a point to show up since it’s hosted by one of his shell companies.”

Johnny looked at her with a knowing stare, and he shook his head, standing up with a groan and a sigh,

“Price was right about you.”

She looked up at him, waiting for the rest of his comment. He smiled down at her,

“All work and no play isnae any way to live, bonnie.”

Before she could toss back a rebuttal, he was carting off his bag into the bath to take his shower, leaving her there on the couch. She tried to focus on her work, but she couldn’t. She sat, staring unmoving at the way the fire danced in the glimmering gold ring that surrounded her finger, shining like the sun.

It was nearly half an hour before he reemerged, but he was clean, his face was shaven, and he didn’t smell like a wild beast anymore. Soap was wearing a plain white tee shirt and some black gym shorts as he padded around her apartment barefooted. He started digging through the pantry and the fridge, making himself right at home.

“Shower’s free, love. Gonnae raid your fridge if you dinnae mind. I’m starved,” he spoke to her from behind the fridge door, carrying an array of ingredients in his arms before dumping them onto the clean counter top.

“As long as you keep your hands off my yogurt, we’re good,” she warned, making her way into the bedroom to take a shower herself.

“Och, fuck,” he muttered, his mouth full of something. When she turned to look at him, she saw her tub of yogurt in his hand and a full spoon in his lips. He pulled it out, his expression decidedly sheepish, “Sorry, lass. My bad.”

She sighed, putting her hands on her hips and trying to fix her face,

“Just… It’s fine. Just have it, then. I’ll be right out.”

It took her longer than she liked to admit to swallow her annoyance about sharing her food and her space with this man. It was even more difficult to come to grips with just how attracted she was to him. He wasn’t really her type. She liked a more romantic figure, a softer set of features, warm brown eyes - the tall, dark, and handsome cliche. This Scottish brute was handsome enough, but his blue eyes were so icily cunning, his jawline cut to an intense angle, his musculature overwhelming, his movements confident to the point of cockiness… He was everything powerful and dangerous, and her mind seemed keen on the idea of a challenge.

She peeled off her clothes and dumped them into the hamper, pulling her hair down and letting it hang as it wanted. She examined herself in the mirror and let out a long sigh. Studying her body in the clear glass only added to her struggling thoughts. It had been a long time since she had felt the spark of lust in her belly. There had been so much space inside of her for rage, for revenge, for spite; no room nor time for romance, for desire.

Her body was made for war. She had spent her mornings and evenings in the gym, moving weight that most civilian men would raise an eyebrow at. Her runs were fast-paced and often cross-country, and she pushed her endurance beyond what she herself had ever assumed she was capable of. Her thighs were round with muscle, her shoulders and traps clearly built for pressing and pushing, even her hands looked powerful when she flexed out her fingers. The workouts were intense, and she no longer had a girlish figure.

Back in her youth, she had thought she was in her prime. Little miss super soldier. But now? She was truly terrifying. If only her younger self could see her now; she’d be proud. She’d never been able to lean down like some of her colleagues, but she didn’t care. Life was too short not to just eat what she wanted. She was thick, powerful, and made of stronger stuff. The people of the free world needed her to step up for them, and she was ready.

What would Sergeant MacTavish think of her body? Her bones and her freckles and her muscles and her mouth… Would he expect fragility and softness? Would he want her strength? Perhaps he would enjoy her thick thighs wrapped - No. She stopped herself from going down that road. Sure, she was enjoying the view of her new “partner,” but nothing would happen between them. She didn’t have the time for distractions. This operation was too important for that.

The water ran hot down her back as she stood beneath the stream, and she allowed herself to relax in its heat for a few moments, trying to calm her thoughts. As the rivulets snaked down the front of her chest in a winding cascade, she breathed deeply, pushing her feelings aside, attempting to silence her heart. She washed, shaved, and towelled dry before her hands could even threaten to linger on her own flesh, although the desire was still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

The work. Focus on the work.

Flashes of tanned, Scottish flesh flickered through her mind, and she lost herself in the fantasy of a kilt for a moment before turning the water all the way to cold to shock herself back to reality.

After she put herself back together, she padded into the bedroom and found her roommate passed out on her side of the bed, snoring lightly despite his promises to be a quiet sleeper. He was splayed like a bird nearly across all four corners, and his face was crushed into her memory foam pillow.

She nudged his leg,

“Hey…”

He didn’t stir. So, she tried again, with a little more force this time,

“Hey.”

Soap pulled the offending leg up and into his core, curling in on himself to escape her tapping. She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, tender now with the onset of a stress headache.

“Alright. Fine.” She threw up her hands, sending theatrics out into the room for no one in particular.

She surveyed the bed for a moment, trying to figure out the best plan of attack. He had eschewed the duvet entirely, although he was only wearing his shorts, now. So, she took it from her - his - side of the bed, unfurling it for herself and laying down as close to the edge as she possibly could. With a stretch, she turned off the light and tried to settle in.

The moment she got comfy, a large, brawny arm draped across her belly and yanked her with force along the mattress, hugging her to a furry, warm chest.

“Hey!” she squealed, and she tried to get away.

To her dismay, and to her utmost indignancy, he held her in a vice. She wasn’t strong enough to get free. So much for all her lifting. More shamefully, his snores became even deeper and longer, and he snuffled into her neck, his snarling breaths puffing against her nape. She couldn’t stop herself from getting chills.

“You cannot be serious,” she said, making a point to speak to him at full volume.

But, he was truly asleep. It wasn’t until she reached back and held his nose shut that he stirred awake.

“Och, oh… bonnie,” his voice crackled from sleep. “Mngh… what time is it?” He took in a sharp breath, immediately releasing her from his grasp as if he had been burned.

“Time for you to shove the fuck over,” she snapped, stuffing a pillow between them as a makeshift wall.

It was silent for a moment, but then, she heard him mutter a soft apology before rolling over to his side of the bed.

At first, she was relieved to have some space. But then, her brain snagged on the feeling of his strength against her bones, catching on that fleeting memory like a protruding nail. She was hanging onto his warmth when she shouldn’t have been. His scent stuck in her nose and mouth. Balsam.

Time passed. It may have only been a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. She couldn’t sleep. The reality was that she’d been alone for so long that having another person in her space had her on edge. She tried to count sheep, but she kept over-analyzing how fast to go. Then, she tried to meditate, clearing her mind into an empty, black void until she could just feel the warm tendrils of rest curl into her mind…

Johnny’s abrupt snoring jerked her out of her concentration. She let out a deep sigh and cut her eyes through the darkness of the room at him.

So, she tried something else. She thought about her work, about this mission, and about the mountain that lay between her and capturing Viktor Magnus. Magnus had been busy moving his shipments from one point to the next, completely undisturbed, and now, she was onto him. It was clear that he had people at the port - or had blackmailed people there - into covering up his illegal smuggling operation, but how could she prove it without blowing her cover?

A loud growl came from Johnny’s side of the bed. He was stuck in some sort of bad dream. Carefully, she made a little divot in the pillow with her hand to peer over at him. Sure enough, his face twitched as if he was trying to speak, and his shoulder jerked as if he was trying to move his body. She couldn’t help but smile at the similarity to an unconscious dog chasing an imaginary rabbit.

She reached out a tentative hand and tried to shake him just enough to stop the movement and the noises. But, if anything, she made it worse. He furrowed his brow, and the muscles in his arms and chest bulged, clenching in desperation as if he was fighting a battle all on his own. She shook him again, just touching his shoulder, but still he didn’t calm.

Finally, she moved the wall pillow out of the way and leaned over him, supporting herself on her elbow, touching his shoulder with a bit more force, whispering,

“Johnny… Hey… It’s a dream…”

It all happened so fast. One moment, she was staring down at a sleeping man, and the next, she was on her back looking up into the cold, furious eyes of a very awake soldier. His face was twisted in some shadowy sort of rage, and he had her pinned, trapping her arms with his own, keeping her from escaping his heavy weight.

He was out of breath, and as he studied her, she realized that he was having a hard time coming back to himself. So, with a shaking, nervous voice - one that she didn’t even recognize in herself - she told him,

“Johnny. It’s me. It’s Hunter.”

“Càit a bheil mi?” he asked in a foreign tongue. Was it Gaelic? She didn’t know.

“It’s okay,” she cooed, praying that he would snap back to this plane of existence.

“An tu mo nàmhaid, no mo bhean?” he snarled, raking his eyes over her neck and body in a lurid, angry sort of way. She felt naked, as if the tee shirt she was wearing vanished in his gaze.

She tried to pull her arms out of his grip, but he didn’t even bother to tighten his fingers. She wasn’t going anywhere. With his free hand, he moved her chin so that she would be looking straight at him, his eyes lingering on her mouth.

“Kate Laswell,” she said, loudly and confidently. “You know her, right? You’re on a mission… Please, Johnny,” she prepared herself for the worst. If she needed to break his hip to get him off of her, she was ready to fight.

A look of confusion passed over him. Then, suspicion. She could see him coming around. Finally, his brows raised in an expression of cold surprise and he released her, pinching the bridge of his nose and clenching his eyes shut, trying to shake himself out of his episode.

“Sorry, bonnie… Sorry. I think I was… dreamin’...” His voice was rough but low, none of his aggression remained in his timbre, and he rolled away from her, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

He stood, swaying a bit on shaking legs, and in the purple twilight of the room, she could see the true beauty of his body. Johnny was immense, and the darkness made him that much more imposing. She noticed old tattoos and new scars, bruises that hadn’t yet had time to heal. The hulking weight of his Adonis belt, and his broad lats stretching out like wings.

Right before he disappeared into the den, he put his hand on the doorframe, the same hand that had held her prisoner just moments before, and he hung his head as he told her,

“Gonnae take the sofa, love. See you in the mornin’.”

She felt like her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. His behavior had been such a departure from the bright-eyed, carefree boyishness that he’d greeted her with that she wasn’t entirely sure how to confront this brooding beast. She wanted to apologize, but there was nothing for her to be sorry for. So, silently, she watched his hand slide down the corner of the wall and disappear with his body into the other room, retreating from a battle that she wasn’t sure how to fight.

The next morning, she woke to the sound of kittiwakes crying outside her window, ducking down into the waves to catch their breakfast, spearing small fish into their beaks skillfully. She turned over to look for any evidence of the man that had shared her bed last night, but his side was still cold.

Carefully, she wrapped herself in a thin robe and rose from the bed, stepping softly into the den.

She spotted him on the couch, just like he’d promised, with a blanket messily scrunched around his waist. She watched him breathe for a moment, and then, she decided to step closer, daring to go as far as to lift the blanket to cover his bare back, shielding him from the Icelandic chill.

Then, satisfied with her attempt at hospitality, she set to quietly making a pot of coffee. The smell of the brew filled the small apartment, and she impatiently waited for it to steep fully, staring at the French press as if it would speed up the process somehow.

When it was ready, she poured two mugs, not bothering to wonder why she was making a coffee for him. He might not even drink coffee.

She didn’t care. Somehow, she knew he would take it whether he was a fan or not. Gently, she set it on the small coffee table beside him and stoked the dying fire, bringing it back to a warm blaze.

The creak of the fire screen woke him as she closed it, and he stirred, sitting up in a heap and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Mmngh…” he groaned, finally looking up at her in the sherbet-colored light of dawn. “Mornin’, bonnie.”

“Good morning,” she said over her cup, taking a tentative sip.

“Oh, wow,” he smiled down at the coffee offering, “Room service, aye? You’ll never be rid of me.”

The pair of them drank together in silence for a while, watching the sun from the window. It would be a clear day. But she wasn't focused on the creamy sky. Her eyes couldn’t peel themselves away from the way Johnny’s skin seemed to glow like molten gold as the sun emerged from its hiding place. The stolen blanket hung around his waist like some sort of tunic skirt, as if he was an ancient model waiting to be sculpted right here in her den. She wondered if the blanket were to move, would the morning have crafted something marble from him? In the next breath, she also wondered what the fuck was wrong with her.

He studied her, too, and when she realized that the robe she’d chosen did nothing to cover her lower half, she tried to cross her legs in a different way. But, hiding her bare thighs was a challenge.

“Laswell mentioned that there was a charity event down at the docks. Some yacht club auction. If we could somehow sneak in and find out who Mangus is there to rub elbows with, or perhaps even partner with on his next smuggling op, we might be able to have enough proof to shut down his shell company,” she suggested, handing over some of the files she had been working on the night before.

He took a look at them, actually caring enough to flip through the pages, and he nodded.

“Aye, it’s not a bad plan, bonnie. Says it’s black tie.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, Laswell sent over a carepackage. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You havenae tried it on?” he asked, incredulously.

“Do you have something to wear that isn’t Patagonia?” she scowled, not appreciating the insinuation that she would be unprepared.

He chuckled,

“A true Scotsman never travels without his kilt, lass.”

The kilt fantasy reared its ugly head in her mind before she quickly tamped it down.

“Oh, alright,” she shrugged, pretending to read through another file.

“Dinnae fret, lass. I always look good. But, you should try yours on, just in case it needs alterations.”

“Who’s going to alter it? I don’t know how to fucking sew.” She rolled her eyes.

“I do. My mam taught me when I was just a wee lad. Sewn up enough of my own scrapes in the field as well. You’re in good hands, bonnie,” he winked, passing her back the report.

She eyed him for a moment, and he sighed, finishing his coffee. Then, before she could speak, he said,

“Sorry about las’ night. I ken I said somethin’ I shouldnae have, or… I dunno. But, whatever it was,” he looked into her eyes with that intoxicating earnestness that she had come to crave, “I’m sorry, love.”

She shook her head, trying to be dismissive,

“No, it’s nothing. You do snore, though.”

“It was more than that, bonnie.”

“It’s alright.”

The silence was back. But, it was different this time. It hummed with a wild energy. Something untamed. Unruly. It stuck between them like spun sugar, tacky and cloying. She could feel his meaning in her chest.

He nodded, and then he broke eye contact. He stared into the fire for a while and then looked down at his hands, studying them as if searching for blood.

She got out of her chair before she knew exactly what she was doing, and she sat beside him, holding his hands in hers.

“I promise. It’s alright, Johnny.”

He came back to her face, his features softening from her kindness. Then, he moved his hands to her cheeks, cupping her face in his rough palms, bringing her closer to him. Time seemed to grind to a stop. She could hear herself breathing. She could see the shine of his eyes and the color of his lashes, that deep rich brown. His stubble was grown out, way past five o’clock, and the warmth of his body made her feel like she was sinking into endless, fathomless depths. She was drowning in him, but she didn’t care.

As his lips brushed hers, his eyes fluttered open and he pulled back just enough to whisper,

“Fuck… ‘M sorry.”

“For what?” she dared him, unmoving.

His blue eyes shot back up to hers, staring straight into her with a burning intensity,

“I want you,” he sighed, “And I cannae help it. Ever since Laswell showed me your debrief from Warsaw, I’ve had you on my mind. Then, I come here and you… Well, you fuckin’ look like this. Forgive me, lass.”

Johnny took his hands off of her and tried to pull away, but she caught his wrist,

“What about Warsaw? Didn’t you see what happened in Salzburg?”

He shrugged,

“Fuck Salzburg. That was years ago. You took out an entire bloody splinter cell in Poland by yourself, and you didnae even show up on their wee security feed. It was like you werenae even there! Proper surgical. And hot. Very hot. That last bloke who you took out with the, um…” He made a motion with his hands, and she laughed.

“The bike chain?”

“Aye! Brutal.”

“You don’t do so bad yourself, you know,” she shook her head, “No one comes close to your work in Aqtabi, honestly.”

She smiled up at him as he stilled, taking in her words. His hand moved back to her cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing a soft line over her bottom lip, dragging across it so he could feel its plushness. Then, suddenly, a phone call jolted both of them out of their trance.

Johnny fumbled for his cell, and he picked it up, removing himself from the couch and tugging on his coat to step outside onto the small porch.

The sliding door didn’t shut fully, so she could still hear his one-sided conversation.

“Aye, sir,” he said. She figured he was checking in with Price or maybe one of Laswell’s officers... She tried not to listen in, making a point to go back through her notes, trying to stay busy while he talked.

“No, no. Spent some time on my own… Aye. All squared, sir.”

It was Price, then.

“That she is,” he laughed.

Hunter knew that she was the “she” on the call. She wondered what had made him smile so broadly.

“No, sir. I dinnae think you will. Keepin’ this one for myself.”

Her mind spun with all of the delightful possibilities as to what that could mean. Her pleasure mixed with her guilt as she pored over the Magnus files. She should really be focusing on the mission…

“Sorry about that, bonnie. Cap wanted an update,” he slid the door closed, flipping the latch.

“No problem. This charity auction starts around noon, but I think we should be a little late. Magnus is famous for rolling in after his guests are there.”

“Alright.” Johnny changed into a shirt and dug around in his bag until he found a ball cap, “I’m off for a run. Care to join me?”

“You can’t keep up,” she smirked, crossing her arms.

His face brightened,

“Oh! A wee challenge, is it? Cheeky… C’mon, then. Get yourself on.”

She ducked into the bedroom to get into her running clothes, opting for a little less coverage than what the winter weather called for, but she wanted to get his attention. Maybe he would kiss her again?

Or maybe you should be thinking about how to cover yourself at this event? her brain taunted her.

The guilt returned, but she rationalized it away, deciding that they needed this time to plan their backstories together. Yes, this would be a good time to get their tale straight.

Uh huh… her brain groaned.

They started out on her familiar beach path, running through soft, damp sand. It was slow going, but it felt good on her muscles.

“Gorgeous,” he said.

She looked up at him in shock, thinking that he was making a comment about her, and he smiled, ribbing her,

“Your runnin’ form, lass. Gorgeous form.”

“Oh, yeah. Right,” she rolled her eyes.

“What about me?” He grinned salaciously, “I’ve been workin’ on mine, ya ken?”

She watched his stride for a moment, pretending to appraise him,

“Well… keep workin’.”

“Och!” He placed his hands over his heart. “She bites.”

“She does,” she smiled genuinely this time, enjoying his playful banter, but she knew she should turn the conversation to the mission.

“You know my callsign, but we should have our personas mapped out before we show up at this thing,” she mentioned, turning with him onto a stretch of grass near a dirt road. She did her best to control her breathing, grateful that their pace wasn’t too strenuous.

“Mister and missus…” He thought for a moment, “John and Elsie MacLeod? They were old neighbors of mine. Lived just up the road from my mam. They had two horses they’d let us take turns ridin’ around their wee field.”

“Alright, so John and Elsie are newlyweds?” she offered, following along.

“Aye,” he grinned. “Cannae keep their hands off one another.”

“You wish,” she smiled back. “And they raise thoroughbreds. Race horses.”

“Sure. Hamilton Park in Glasgow. They just bred their lead mare - Tiffany’s Breakfast.”

“Tiffany’s what?” she laughed, nearly losing her pace.

“They’re always named some bollocks like that. See You Next Tuesday, or Turkish Delights, or Mister Jones’ Left Shoe. You ken it’s true.”

She raised her hands, conceding,

“Alright, alright. Tiffany’s Breakfast. She’s all black. And my parents are dead. Makes it easier.”

He turned his head toward her, his expression serious,

“Are they?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “Happened a while back. I’m alright now.”

It was a lie, but she hoped he would just drop it. She was definitely not alright, and she didn’t know if she’d ever be truly normal again.

“Well, mine are certainly not. I’ve got my mam, Mary, and my da, John. My sister, Bridgette, and my other sister, Loren. They’ve both got two kids. My mam’s sister’s still around, Iona, and she’s got her second husband, Charlie. They’ve got three kids between them, plus the ones she had before when -”

“Okay, no. I can’t memorize all that,” she gasped, shaking her head.

“It’s all part of the gag,” he winked, “Newlyweds and all that.”

“Alright, have I been to Scotland, then? Have I seen your house?” she asked.

“Och, aye. Old farm, so it is. Great big fireplace when you walk into the den. And it always smells like Mam’s shortbread - mostly ‘cause my da willnae stop eatin’ it. Demands it with his coffee in the mornin’.”

“That sounds like heaven, actually,” she smiled with closed lips, thinking about how much warmth and love a house like that must have in it.

“Aye.” Johnny swelled with pride. “It is.”

“I’m allergic to kale,” she offered.

“No allergies,” he shook his head, “But, I cannae stand you Americans and your obsession with pickles. Blegh! Fuckin’ rank.”

“Alright,” she grinned, “I heard you. No pickles.”

They reached the crest of the hill that overlooked the shore, and she stopped him, pointing to a small ledge. As they gazed out across the receding tide together, she listened to their breathing, labored and steady. It wasn’t a long run, but it was steep, and the view was well worth it.

“Such a bonnie place, aye?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’ll admit that it’s nicer with two, though.”

She looked up at him, waiting to see his reaction. He met her gaze almost immediately. She got lost in the way that his eyes seemed to open up his soul for her, holding himself bare, letting her read all about him through his blue pools, keeping no secrets. But, she had to know for sure. So, she asked,

“Do you have someone at home?”

His brow furrowed, confused. She rephrased,

“Someone you care about,” she took a step forward, ever so gently tugging at the hem of his jacket. “Someone who cares about you.”

He sighed, softening his face into a slight smile,

“No, lass. I mean… You ken. You’re in this life. You’ve lived it firsthand. The kind of people we are…” he took a breath. “It’s not normal. I’m not a normal man.”

She let her fingers dip just beneath the edge of his shirt beneath his coat, dragging the back of her fingers along the line of skin just above his waistband, barely touching him and yet getting plenty of reaction from him.

“You feel pretty normal to me…”

“Lass…” His voice was a warning, one that she didn’t heed.

She let her fingertips tug ever so slightly at the band of his running shorts, and in that same moment, he caught her wrist, pulling her against him roughly. Johnny pressed his mouth to hers, not waiting for permission, kissing her open, delving into her lips with his strong, prying tongue.

She kissed him back just as fiercely, letting his lips chase hers. Where she would apply pressure, he would relent, and he would assail her somewhere new. Her pouting bottom lip, her sweaty neck, the soft lobe of her ear. Every panting breath was made against her face, warming her cheek and chin and temple as he lost himself in her.

Then, she stepped deeper into his space, pressing her belly against him, grinding her hips into his, hoping to arouse him only to find him already there. She gasped at his hardness and his size. He was immense. His cock was heavy, and at her affectionate glance, it rocked with a strong pulse.

“Oh…” she whispered, pulling away from his kiss to look down at his prick.

“Sorry, bonnie,” he chuckled, blushing a bit, his hand resting on the side of her neck, his lips pink from their kiss.

“You were right about one thing,” she smiled up at him, her hand slipping over his hip, threatening to glide down the outside of his crotch.

He shuddered at her touch, his voice low and rasping.

“Wha’s that?”

“This is definitely not normal,” She licked her lips and pressed her palm against the fat body of his cock, letting it roll across her fingers. It was longer than her entire hand, and the head of it filled her fist.

“Jesus…” He snarled, grabbing her face and kissing her again, shamelessly thrusting himself up into her grip.

Then, he pulled away entirely, walking off a few paces, his own hand squeezing his erection to try and get it to go down.

“You alright, Johnny?” She held back from the excited laugh that wanted to escape her throat, eager to see him so undone by her touch.

“Tryin’ not to have you right here on the fuckin’ ground, lass,” he said, breathing deeply, trying to come to some sort of sense.

She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, petting his chest and belly and roaming his body as she wished.

“Race you back?”

“I cannae run like this,” he turned toward her, showing her his condition.

She admired the shape of him, the tip reaching all the way across his hip, the base thick enough to stretch his hand.

It was quiet between them for a moment, each one looking at the other with an unbridled, primal want. Then, she turned her face up to him and said,

“Blue.”

His eyes blinked, and his brows knitted together, worry and confusion crossing his face.

“What?”

“You said a husband should know his wife’s favorite color. Mine’s blue.”

She rose up on her tiptoes, kissed his cheek, and dashed off down the path, sprinting back like her life depended on it. She looked over her shoulder and he was still standing on top of the hill, his face pure shock, his fist still wrapped around himself, watching her flee from the chaos she had caused. Then, when he snapped himself out of it, he started after her, and she knew he’d catch up. So, she pushed herself. When she got to the beach, the sand made her thighs burn, but she could hear him behind her. He was getting closer and closer with each stride.

She was almost back to the apartment. She could see the building getting closer and closer. But, just when she thought he would back off, he caught her wrist and tackled her into the dunes.

Instead of letting out a scream, she turned her attention to his grip, trying to find a way to break free, laughing with glee. He dragged her to him, holding her back to his chest, both of them breathing ragged and heavy. There was a rocky bank between the apartment and the beach with just enough coverage to keep them out of the public eye. Even though the shore was pretty much deserted, there was always a chance. So, they hid in the cool shadow. The sand beneath the rocks was frigid, and the wind blew through them, stinging her cheeks.

Johnny spun her around, handling her with ease, making her feel like she was no more than a plaything to him. He grabbed her chin roughly, speaking to her in a hoarse, fiery tone,

“Thought you could run from me, bonnie? Or maybe you wanted me to catch you…”

He groped her breasts through her thin hoodie, reaching under the cropped hemline and shoving his hand below her bra band to reach her warm flesh. Then, he pulled up her top, exposing her chest to the cold air. She gasped, and he squeezed harder.

“Cannae get shy on me now. Had my cock leakin’ on the fuckin’ hill, and now she’s a wiltin’ petal? I dinnae think so.”

His mouth fell to her nipple, sucking and licking as if she would feed him, drawing her sensitive bud into his lips and warming her with his tongue. Instinctively, her hands lay on his scalp, holding him there, enjoying the way he was playing with her, enjoying his meanness, even if it was just for show.

“Think we should consummate this marriage before the party or after?” she whispered into his ear, ducking her head down to his level, sucking on his earlobe for good measure.

His groan turned into a growl as he released her nipple from his mouth with a pop and turned towards her, pinning her with his eyes.

“Before, love. Definitely before. But,” he plucked at her nipple again with his thick fingers, tracing a line down her ribs and along the crest of her hip. Then, he rubbed his fingertips over her leggings, touching her pussy through the fabric, feeling for her clit as he pressed his forefinger between her lips. “I cannae take my bonnie wife in the sand, now can I?”

She moaned, rolling her hips in time with his touch, encouraging him without any hesitation.

“Keep that up and you can have your wife wherever the fuck you want her…”

He played between her legs like he’d just discovered a new instrument, testing different positions of his fingers, deciding to press harder or softer, trying to figure out how to make her sing for him. The slick slip of his hand was exaggerated by the lycra, and even though she could feel his touch, she cursed the fabric, wanting more. She wanted him to shove his huge hand inside of her pants, wanted him to stretch the material just so he could fit, dipping each finger into her to wet his digits, fucking her down to his knuckles.

She let out a keening whimper, shamelessly grinding her hips down on his touch, wanton and needy.

“Fuck,” he said hungrily, raking her top back down so that she was decent again and pulling himself away. “Bed. Now.”

One moment, he was touching her greedily, making her mind melt with desire, and the next, she was being lifted off of the sand, put back on her feet, and shoved onto the path to the apartment. His hand was stuck to her lower back, guiding her through the entrance and up the stairs. She felt like she was being captured by him, as if she was some detained enemy. But, she knew his intentions were not to harm, no matter how roughly his hand gripped her around the waist, touching her with a desperate kind of need that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

When they reached the front door, she fumbled with the key. She hadn’t even realized her hand had been shaking until she tried to fit it into the catch. Johnny stepped in front of her, taking it from her fingers, and opened the door himself, shouldering through it and pulling her along behind.

Then, his mouth was on hers, and her back was shoved against the closed door, trapped by his hulking body. He kissed her fiercely, invading her mouth with his tongue, his hands returning to their place underneath her top, squeezing her breasts and plucking at her nipples in a messy chaos of hands and skin.

She gasped, interrupting his kiss, and he stared down into her face, watching her experience the pleasure that he was giving her. He repeated the same gentle movement with his hand, ghosting his thumb over her nipple, his lips curling into a satisfied smile when she sighed again.

“Show me those pretty tits,” he demanded, tugging her shirt up to her shoulders.

Hunter obeyed, pulling her top off the rest of the way and letting it flutter to the floor. It was cold, for a moment, and in the few half seconds that she waited to be appraised, she felt an old, girlish nervousness kick in. What would he think of how she was made?

“Oh, fuck me,” Johnny scrubbed his hand down his face in one sweep, his eyes glued to her chest.

Then, he sank to his knees in front of her. He was tall enough that his mouth was still level with her chest, and he began to suck on her sensitive peaks, both of his hands stuck to her rib cage, feeling her breaths quicken while his mouth did its work. Her flesh was warm against his lips, and his tongue slid easily over her tight nub.

This time, she didn’t cradle his head in her hands. Instead, she began to scrape her fingers across his close-cropped scalp. She applied pressure on the back of his neck, just enough to make his muscles ache, and it earned her a smoldering look, his eyes darting up to her face while his mouth was still full of her breast.

Johnny used both of his hands to pull her leggings down, ripping off her socks and sneakers in a messy jumble as the pile of clothes rumpled to the floor, leaving her naked. He gazed longingly at her furry mons, using his forefinger to delicately touch the gleaming slit between, sinking inside of her folds down to his first knuckle. He sighed with a rough sort of sound when he found her wet, and although she gasped at his touch, he didn't look up at her face. He was too enthralled; an eager hummingbird probing its beak between her petals.

His jaw came forward, and he licked her warm center with a deep, flat tongue, tasting her fully without even the slightest reservation. Briefly, she fretted about sweat or salt or any number of negativities, but in a half second, Johnny had her mind fully in his thrall.

He did not explore her like a new lover. There was no wondering about how much pressure to apply or whether he was suckling too deeply on her swollen clit; he just seemed to allow his greed to drive him. Whatever he wanted from her, he took. If he wanted to kiss the tops of her thighs or drag his nose through her soft pussy lips or run his finger along the rim of her hole; he did it. Johnny looked drunk as he shoved his mouth between her legs, like he was thirsty for a taste of her spirit, and now that he had put her on his lips? Addicted.

Then, just as she was arching herself into a twisted mess of bliss under his ministrations, he stood, keeping her back to the wall and her quim stuck to his mouth. He hoisted her legs over his shoulders, and held her in place from below, making her let out a squeal from the added pressure and the shock. She’d known he was strong, but she was well-muscled and not a small woman, and yet he moved her like she was nothing to him.

Her hands wrapped around his nape, and she held onto him for dear life, worried that he might stop just when she was so close to falling from the edge. Her back slid further up the wall, flipping on the lights in the process, bathing their bodies in a yolk-yellow glow. What had been a shadowy coupling was now on full display, and she could see the wetness gleaming across his mouth, the pinkness of his tongue as it laved into her hole, the flushed redness of his cheeks and neck as he abandoned breath in favor of taste. One sense sacrificed for another.

“Johnny,” she half-whispered, half-snarled.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, bonnie…” He breathed his words across her sensitive flesh before returning to his sloppy meal, driving his tongue deeper than she imagined it physically being able to go.

He was fully standing, now, and she could see over the top of the cabinets in her kitchen. The full great room was on display for her as Johnny’s slipping tongue drove her into a mindless blur of bliss. Her legs began to tremble and tense. She couldn’t take in a steady breath, and a low-pitched resonant sound was coming from her throat as she felt the spark of her orgasm ignite inside of her sacral core, warming her like a fire from her center outwards, rushing down her arms and legs like she was being burned.

“Fuck,” Johnny spoke with his mouth full.

“Mmmgnhhh! Yessss,” she cried. “Yes, yes, ye– Oh, my God.”

Her hips jerked forward, unable to move much due to his merciless grip, and she began to fuck his mouth, riding his jaw through her pleasure, shaking like a leaf and gasping in desperate, drowning breaths.

As she began to ease herself down from her high, her hands became too weak to hold his head, and suddenly, he dropped her. She fell nearly two feet before he caught her in his arms, her legs now sprawled across his waist. Johnny was smiling like a devil, proud of the dripping mess on his chin and the dazed expression she was now wearing across her face.

“C’mon, baby.” He carried her at a quick clip through the kitchen and into the den, dropping her limp body onto the large sectional before tugging off his clothes and sitting beside her, his hands reaching for her pussy again, looking to play inside of her a bit more before the main event.

But, she had recovered, and she maneuvered away, kneeling in front of him on the plush rug.

“None of tha’, lass. I cannae wait to f– Oh, fuck… Holy fuck! Tha do bheul cho bog…” He covered his face with his hands as a reflex, falling backwards into the cushions as she wrapped her lips around his shining cockhead.

Johnny was already drooling with precome, the clear fluid smearing across his uncut foreskin, and she swallowed it all, enjoying the salty taste of him. The best part though, for her, was just how responsive he was to her touch. Every inch that she sank lower onto his enormous phallus elicited another animalistic whimper or grunt, a swift exhale, another Gaelic curse that she couldn’t understand.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ffffuhhhh–ck. Bonnie, please. Pl– Mnghhh!” His huge thighs trembled and quivered just as hers had done, and his face was a wonderfully twisted sight to behold. He looked trapped in some sort of limbo between satisfaction and disbelief, and his eyes never left hers as he watched her take him down into her throat. She struggled, at first, and he pet her cheek with the back of his hand, soothing her and himself in the same stroke. But, she was determined, and she began to swallow against his cockhead over and over, silencing her gag reflex as she consumed him.

Johnny gently slid his hands across her jaw and into her hair, not pressing her but just holding her in his palms, simply teasing himself with the feeling of her working her mouth against him. She could feel his cock straining within itself, engorged as it was, pulsing with a lurid hunger.

He whispered to her in a predatory purr, “I’m gonnae come, lass. Chan eil, mas e do thoil e... Fuirich, fuirich…”

She felt the tell-tale tightening around his shaft, and she stopped at once, pulling her mouth from him with a loud pop and smiling at him knowingly.

Johnny stared up at her in shock,

“Oh, fuck… I was so close…”

“Yeah?” she cooed at him, crawling into his lap, purposely slotting herself into position so that his prick would be trapped between their bellies, “And… did I say you could come?”

The look of surprise on his face was reward enough, and she reveled in it.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, his body unable to stop himself from humping his cock between them. Johnny grabbed her hair in a cruel twist and yanked it back, forcing her to bare her throat to him. He leaned forward to kiss and suck at her tender flesh, leaving marks across her neck. All the while, his fat dick was thrusting against her soft belly, trailing wet, sticky lines beneath her breasts as he moved.

“Let me fuck you, lass. Please,” he whispered in her ear, holding her tight to his chest, “I’ll make you feel so good, baby. Willnae come ‘til you tell me. Swear it… anythin’ you want. Anythin’...”

“So sweet when you beg, Johnny,” she teased him further, lifting her hips so that her wet pussy lips could drag just barely onto the base of his cock.

“You like me sweet, baby?” his eyes glinted with a look that was just on the edge of a threat, “Or should I get mean?”

“I dunno…” she mocked him, taunting him with her voice yet pausing each time her hips lifted just high enough to almost allow his cock to fall between her legs and notch itself at her slit, “Sergeant MacTavish… youngest SAS recruit in the history of the service… killer of killers… How mean can you be?”

With that final comment, she pressed her mouth onto his with a terrible force, feeling his teeth cut into her lip as she made him kiss her. But, he didn’t pull away from the pain. He came towards it. Holding her head tighter in his hand, he didn’t allow her to retreat. Instead, he shoved his tongue inside of her cheeks and made her taste herself, her heady come lingering on his writhing muscle.

Then, with a shocking abruptness, he pulled her head back and spoke into her open mouth, mere millimeters away from his lips, so close that she could feel them move as he promised her one, dark word:

“Very.”

She was in his arms again before she knew what was happening to her, and his cock was still trapped against the outside of her mons, throbbing against her soft flesh. He lay her flat on her back on the sofa, and he ignored her twisting hips as she tried to grind his prick into the correct position. In fact, he prevented her from impaling herself on him, sitting back on his heels, choosing instead to feed his thick fingers into her soft pussy, curling them just enough to make her feel full. First, it was one, and - she thought snarkily to herself - she’d had smaller men than Johnny’s forefinger. But then, when it was two, she wondered if she had ever had anyone larger.

He didn’t seem in any big hurry. His eyes roamed her naked form, drinking her in, watching her breath quicken as he worked inside of her. Johnny would even indulgently take his fingers from her after every few strokes and suck her stickiness right from his hand, licking her like honey from a jar.

Then, he would increase his depth and speed, pulling her closer and closer to another mounting orgasm. Just as she felt herself curling up like a spring ready to burst free, he stopped. He didn’t pull away, but he left his fingers twisted inside of her and went stock-still. She froze, panting hard, waiting on such a familiar, teetering edge…

“Ungh…” she moaned, “Hey –”

“She’s so wet for me,” Johnny smiled without even a hint of mercy, “Just beatin’ her wee heart out. I can feel her, pumpin’ my fuckin’ hand. Needin’ me.”

“Johnny, please…” She canted her hips, doing whatever she could to make him move again.

It was no use. The edge was gone, and she was back to square one.

He raked his finger from her hole in a slick line, dragging it up across her clit, making her whole body convulse from the surprising sensitivity.

And he had the audacity to laugh.

So, she reached down with both hands and grabbed his still-hard cock, jerking him in languid, undulating circles, making his eyes clench shut and wiping the smile right off of his face. He was too far away for her to do much work, but she could at least rub his cockhead against her wet lips just enough for him to feel her warmth.

“Cheeky slag…” he grabbed her wrists to stop her, the dazzling grin returning to his face.

Then, he took his cock from her hands and used it with intent, drawing a long, soaking path from her hole to her clit and back again. It was slow and gentle, and it soothed her back into a hypnotic whirl of pleasure. She found herself drifting, imagining how it would feel when he finally joined their bodies together and made them whole again.

“Cannae be patient, can you? Need to use me like a toy…” Johnny’s voice lengthened and stretched, seeming to fill up every deep place inside of her mind. “Thinks she can play with me, hm?”

Faster and faster, Johnny fucked himself in his fist, smearing her warmth all over her lips with the tip of his prick. He brought her right back to the point of overflowing bliss where he had trapped her before, and she cried out as she reached it, aching to fling herself into that fathomless abyss. And yet…

He punished her clit with the body of his cock in three quick slaps, jerking her out of her concentration and ruining her orgasm.

She groaned in a long exhale, her body shaking from being kept so close for so long.

“Oh, my fucking God…” she gasped, glaring up at him.

“Too mean, bonnie?” He raised an eyebrow as he appraised her, absently fondling her tits with his free hand, playing with her for his own pleasure, not hers. “Want your sweet soldier back, now? Cannae handle th– Unf!”

She grabbed his wrist and yanked him off balance, stealing his moment of distraction to flip him over - none too easily due to his size - thanking her past self for going through all of that jiu jitsu training. She landed on top of him high up on his ribs, straddling his chest, holding him down with her hands, knowing that he could toss her to the floor if he chose to do so. But, he let her win, waiting to see what she would do.

Without saying a word, she lifted her hips and planted her swollen pussy over his mouth, using the couch to hold most of her weight off of him. To her joy, he moaned almost instantly, using both of his hands to tug her down, forcing her to sit most of her mass on his mouth.

He didn’t hesitate to eat her out in strong, writhing strokes with his tongue. He was almost brutal in his efforts, sucking from her as if she was a dripping fruit. She couldn’t help but allow keening, needy noises to escape from her mouth as she bent over him, watching him press his nose through her folds.

Ultimately, after such teasing, it was too much. She warned him, not wanting to give up his game that easily, whispering down to him in a shaking voice,

“Johnny… you’re making me come on you. I’m gonna come. I’m – fuck, I’m coming. Johnny, please… I – ffffu– Mnnngh–fuck!”

One of his hands released her thick thigh and, from below her, she heard him touching himself, the unmistakable noise of rough, rhythmic self-love filling the room with her whimpering cries. Below her, she felt him moaning along with her, the vibration of his low tones quivering against her tender core.

She hadn’t even finished with her shuddering climax when he moved her body again, shouldering her over him and carrying her into the bedroom in four short strides. Her back landed on the mattress in a rush of air and breath, and he began to kiss her, crawling over her like a lion over its kill, his shoulders and chest swelling and fluttering from the tension and stress, the striations dancing beneath his blushing skin.

He continued to kiss her for much longer than she thought he wanted to. The men she’d had before would have long since taken what was being given to them. No questions asked. But, not Johnny. He neglected his cock’s obvious wishes as it jerked and throbbed between them, crushed by its master’s hulking form as it rolled against her tummy. He was too interested in feeding her his tongue, in letting her savor herself in his own mouth, in moaning right into her throat to let her feel what his pleasure sounded like. Teaching her his mantra and forcing her to chant it with him.

Once again, she was lost. It was day, or it was night. It was warm and cool. It was five seconds from now, or five years into the future. Nothing mattered except the pulsing, endless pleasure of his body on hers.

“Love,” he spoke to her while his lips still moved against hers, muffled and unclear, “I’m mean…” He kissed her again, “... to everyone else…” and another, “... on this bloody earth…” and another. Then, he pulled away to look her in the face, studying her expression. It was a test. He whispered the question, “Please… Let me be sweet with you, baby.”

She trained her eyes on him, keeping them half-lidded and sultry, trailing her fingertips across his immense shoulders, whispering in a breathy timbre,

“Then show me how sweet you can be.”

As if she had trapped him in some sort of thrall, his body rushed to obey her. His hand spread her thigh away from her center, and his other fisted his shaft, lining his head up against her clenching, pliant hole. The moment his swollen head touched her flesh, she gasped, the anticipation filling her with a roiling excitement, making her dizzy.

“Fuck…” Johnny hung his head to watch himself sink into her, feeding just the glans into her quim, letting her pulse beat against him like fluttering, fearful wings.

“Big,” she took a sharp breath in through her teeth and let her legs hang open even wider, welcoming him inside, “Fuck, you’re big…”

“Didnae hurt you, lass?” He spoke in a hushed voice, as if speaking aloud would scare off the pleasure he was feeling.

She shook her head,

“No, I want… mmnh… I want all of you…”

Slowly, and with arching, careful thrusts, Johnny fulfilled her wish. He whet himself like a blade against its stone, honing himself inside of her with each pass, delving deeper and deeper into her warmth as a sunflower might twist its stalk toward the sun’s blinding fire. To burn in her would be a blessing.

The sounds he was making inside of her filled her up with so much need. That milking, popping, wet noise of their bodies lulled her into a soporific state, calming her before he began his true work. As he reached his end, she could feel the curls around his thick base tickling her spread lips, wet from her joy already.

“You cannae be real…” he said, his face knitted with a worried, troubled expression, “Never felt anythin’ like this.”

Suddenly, he took in a deep breath, and as he let it out, his whole body trembled and shook, desperately trying to hold onto his bearings as he nearly lost his vision from how her pussy felt as it squeezed him in. Everything about her was like a drug, designed specifically to make him addicted, to make him need her. She allowed the turgid weight of his prick to settle within her like a smoldering cradle, wrapping around him just tight enough to keep him inside, milking him as he plunged inside of her, drowning in her like a calid sea.

Then, she pulsed around him on purpose, using her muscles against his cock to make him jerk in surprise, gazing down at her accusingly. She smiled, a bright joy that went right to his heart, and he returned it, kissing her cheek as he lowered himself into a more appropriate position.

Finally, he began to rock back and forth with intention. He could barely take in a breath; it felt so good, he wanted to come. But, he bit the inside of his cheek until it bled, forcing his mind to bend to his will. Johnny wanted – no. He needed to feel her come around him, needed to know what it was like to have her burst while he was sealed inside of her. There was nothing in this world that he wanted more.

He eventually found a rhythm that he could manage, and he set himself to her pleasure. He counted in his head to keep himself from losing his grip on his urge to come… five… ten… oh, holy God… fifteen… fuck… twenty… Her throaty cries were his undoing. But, the nail in the coffin was when she asked him, her mouth hanging open in boundless pleasure,

“Does… it feel… good… for you… too?”

“Oh, fuck me,” he snarled, cursing himself as he leaned back on his knees, pulling her legs up straight against his chest as he continued to pound himself through her.

His sex was loud and shameless, the resonant slapping of his heavy form filling the small room. As he knelt before her, driving himself against her wet sheath, a shaft of sunlight cut across his eyes turning the blue ice into electric fire.

Johnny blinked through it, glad for some sort of pain to knock back his pleasure, letting himself be blinded in the winter sunlight.

“Yes, baby…” He struggled to talk. “Yes… Fuck… You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

She looked up at him with a spark in her eye, squeezing her tits together with her own hands, letting them bounce as he fucked himself into her.

“Are you gonna c–”

He couldn't allow her to finish her sentence, or it would certainly finish him. And he couldn't have that. Not yet. He wanted more. Johnny pressed a hand over her mouth, collapsing over her with her legs still pinned between them, bottoming out inside of her with each feverish thrust, growling through his teeth,

“Need you to come for me, baby... Need it… right now… Can you do that for me? I cannae last… Please, bonnie… Give me y– Yes! Yes, fuck! Oh, fuckin’ hell…”

She screamed into his palm like he was killing her, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he spurred himself on like a bucking bull, forcing his hips to keep their pace as he rode through her suffocating orgasm. Her dripping cunt had a vice grip on his cock, and he could feel every single violent moment of the ecstasy that ripped through her, gushing around him like a broken font, flooding her precious hole with a sensation he’d never known.

Her hands flung around his neck, holding him tight as she continued to ride her high, angling her face away from his weakening hand. She whispered into his ear cruelly,

“Come in me, Johnny. I wanna feel you spill it all inside of me. Just like this… just… Oh!”

“No!” he hissed, flinging his head back in delightful agony, “Mo bhean… Unghhh! Mmmmff-fuck… Fuck… Fuck! Oh…”

Heavy panting grunts filled the room as Johnny gasped for air and sanity. His furry chest rose and fell as his lungs battled between his ribs, aching for a breath. His cock continued to dump silken loads of come inside of her pussy, and he could feel his own pleasure slipping around his cockhead as he drooled into her womb. Johnny stared down where they were joined, watching rapt as his prick pulsed with each spray of his seed, and her body returned the sensation, throbbing for him as she felt him empty himself into her body.

Gently, he dragged his thumb up and over her hood, playing with the pearl of her clit to make her writhe for him. She made a purring sort of sound that he instantly fell in love with, and he teased her again just to hear it.

“Too soon, baby…” Johnny shook his head, “Couldnae stop myself.”

“Didn’t want you to stop,” she grinned, rocking her hips along his shaft.

“Holy shit,” Johnny grabbed her around the waist, just the idea of her being eager for his come was enough to make him thrust forward again, the sensitivity of his tip warning him against it. A losing battle.

Reluctantly, he pulled himself from her heat and fell beside her on the bed, laying with her and breathing together, feeling the way her fingers pet his soft nipples absentmindedly, languidly fondling each other as they recovered from their high.

“Isnae there somewhere we were supposed to be, lass?” He wrapped her in his arms, kissing her temple, contrary to his comment about being behind the clock.

“Mm hm. We’re late to our hero appointment,” she kissed his neck in chirping little pecks, “And I’m gonna tell Laswell it’s your fault.”

“You wouldnae.” He sucked at the base of her jaw, just below her ear, his voice raspy and still laden with want.

There was a span of silence between them as the last of their bliss dissipated back into a quiet reality, and she looked up at him, pulling back just a little so she could appraise him fully,

“This was… really nice.”

“But?” Johnny tried not to sound too disappointed. He knew how these things went. But, losing her after just one morsel of afternoon delight was going to wreck him.

“No,” she shook her head, “No buts. Just… I might need another round when we get back from saving the world.”

“Get dressed,” Johnny moved to stand with a sudden quickness.

“Oh, now you’re in a rush?” She let out a small, amused laugh, abandoning her blankets and standing with him nude in front of her dresser.

“Aye,” Johnny smiled, “Quicker we catch this bastard, the quicker I’ll have you again. Put your clothes on, bonnie. No faffin’ about.”

He plucked her dress off of its hanger and poured it over her head, letting the silk run down her body like shining waves. She laughed truly, now, kissing him as her face reemerged, bathed in that same golden sunlight that had washed over them during their coupling.

She wasn’t sure what awaited her down at the docks, she wasn’t even sure that their mission would be a success, but somehow, she felt like having a partner around wouldn’t be so bad after all.

@literatecowboy (letteredcowboy on AO3): Gaz -- @godzilla-barbie: Ghost -- @misscherry-26 (MissCherry_26 on AO3): Price -- @the-californicationist (californicationist on AO3): Soap -- @unseaworthy (unseaworthy on AO3) : Setup chapter, Konig

Huge thanks to @unseaworthy and the amazing people who helped coauthor this choose-your-own adventure! It's my first time doing something like this, and I really enjoyed it.

Please make sure y'all check out the other works included in the collection (and REBLOG them). They're all really special. If you'd like to read them all together, they're over on AO3.