#im running

You ruined this for him. He met you at the bar while he was bribing the bartender. You eyed him from the side and sat yourself down a seat away from him, waving another bartender in the process. You nursed your drink, waiting for an opening to speak to him, only for him to address you first.

Your conversation was mellow. Pleaseant even. He indulged your curiosity, and you festered his interests. You were so unique. Unrequitedly yourself and so refreshingly honest. You were like this freedom he never knew he wanted.

You invited him back to your place, liquor on your lips, seduction on your tongue. Your eyes wandered to his face as your hands explored his body. His body felt like it was on fire as you caressed him and kissed his exposed skin. He wasn't eager to have this end, so he let himself indulge.

He bit your neck, made sure to leave his mark on your skin, and sucked on the bite mark to leave a dark bruise. His hands found your own and helped you take of his clothes, his hat being the first thing to go before his shirt and his pants. He helped you undress, but not before leading you to your bed, where he straddled you. You liked playing with hair, pulling at it to guide his mouth to your neck and chest. He loved the way your hands gripped at flesh and caressed his legs. You mentioned his eyes, loving, breathy, soft words that felt like you were begging him to show you more of him.

This carnality, this need of the flesh, ate at him as you took care of him. His gasps and his groans belonged to you and him. This was a sanctuary from his work, from the world. You were his safe haven from Murkoff and their demands. You were everything.

By the time morning came, he was left all alone in your bed, in your home, in your sanctum. You left him a note stating that you had left for work, and that he was welcome to stay. He wondered if he could stay a while longer. It was better than sleeping in his car, better than sleeping in a shitty motel. He dressed himself all while observing the purple bruises that littered his skin.

Perry left his own note behind, hoping you would take what he wrote down into consideration. You were a stranger at a bar. A nobody he just met. But to him, in those hours he shared your heat, your body, your mouth, he felt like he had known you forever.