#mcwrites

Today, you reminded yourself, getting the equipment you needed into the car. All you had to do was get through today, and you could get a break from your work. Get a break from being around him.

If either of you had a different occupation, if it was under different circumstances, if either of you were different, you wouldn’t be dreading having to be by Hans Gruber. You’d enjoy the feelings that he’d stirred within you and likely would have made a move sooner. However, being that the two of you were professional thieves working to commit a heist today, that wouldn’t happen. For you, this was hardly the time and place to be acting like a child in grade school who had a crush on a fellow classmate.

You scoffed at yourself as you began driving.

Crush.

The word “crush” wouldn’t be the correct term for what you felt for him. That word implied something pure. This wasn’t. What you felt was a deep, lustful attraction that made your insides burn with an intense, raw desire that kept you up at night. Nothing about any of these emotions you felt towards him classified as anything pure. It’s not like you wanted to go out on public dates, hold his hand, or kiss him goodnight. What you wanted to do with him- no, to him, and what you wanted him to do to you could keep a priest in a confessional booth busy for a week.

You nearly missed the turn to the rendezvous point from even entertaining those thoughts. You let out a frustrated groan as you tried to collect yourself and rerouted.

As you finally made it to the discreet parking spot, you grabbed out your duffle bags and casually walked to the average looking moving truck you all would be driven in. Your breath got caught in your throat as you could recognize Hans standing by the trucks pull up doors.

When you were recruited into his gang, and upon meeting him for the first time, it was easy to think to yourself that he was an attractive man. Tall, clean, professional- bonus points for him wearing a suit, you did always like that. Overall, he had a constant air of this refined elegance that would draw you to a simple conclusion; He was good-looking. But it wasn’t a profound observation, anyone who was smart could recognize that. Which you are. You wouldn’t have gotten into the gang otherwise.

Today was no different in terms of his appearance. He dressed himself up nicely, and to any unsuspecting civilian, they wouldn’t think much of him. You found that amusing. There’s no doubt in your mind he used his good looks to get away with things or be able to pull the strings that he needed to.

He noticed you and hit the truck once, signaling someone to open it up and let you in.

“Do you have everything?” Hans questioned as the door rolled up.

You barely gave him acknowledgement as you simply lifted the duffle bag and nodded and climbed into the truck.

A few of the other men were already inside. You didn’t all want to show up at once to draw suspicion. A couple were already at the location to get things started. But you were missing a few.

“Where’s Karl and Tony?” You asked as you kneeled and opened the bag. You already had double-checked that there was enough ammunition and that the radios worked. But you needed to distract yourself. It had been easy at first to brush off Hans’s looks, as you could say that a good amount of the other men within the group were attractive too.

“Not here, clearly.” Marco remarked. You shot him an unamused look, who gave you a shit eating grin.

Some weren’t as classy as Hans though, you thought.

“Likely arguing about who’s going to bring the spare cars. They wouldn’t shut up about it at the last meeting.” Heinrich said, as he leaned against one of the boxes.

“They better keep that brother rivalry to a minimum this time,” Franco commented, as he went to close the door again for the time being. “Or we gotta cut one loose.”

“Then there will be an argument on who has to go.” Hans muttered right before it shut.

You hated how your ears only perked up at the sound of his voice. You felt you could lose yourself in it. Whenever he spoke, either discussing the inner workings of the target buildings or the step-by-step instructions, it didn’t matter; You could sit and listen for as long as possible.

Though now, “listening” would be an exaggeration. Of course, there were times when you had to pay attention, but focusing too much on his voice led your mind to other things he could be saying to you. It was a shame. Seeing his mind at work, carefully planning heists, him having this sense of preciseness, it was a wonder to witness. It did end up aiding in that attractiveness, along with his voice. But initially, you rationalized to yourself that you were just feeling lonely. This line of work wasn’t easy to have a partner on the side. Unless they knew what you did. And rarely did they ever.

You wish you could do what you did during those early weeks of starting off and paid these other factors of attractiveness no mind. Believe that you just needed to get out, connect with the more ‘normal’ friends you had. Have a few one-night flings if you are that lonely.

Not long after, Hans hit the truck again. Franco got up to open it.

“Quick for thirty make a bet on who lost.” Marco said.

You and Uli said “Karl” in unison while Heinrich and James said “Tony” without missing a beat.

“I’m going Tony.” Marco said, then pointed to Franco, who ignored him and opened the door.

It was Karl.

Being ninety dollars richer was chump change compared to what the expected take was going to be. But it was amusing to see Marco slam his fist against the truck’s walls.

Once Karl and Hans got in and the doors closed, the truck began moving and Hans quickly ran over what was going to happen. You already knew the intricacies of the plan. But your mind had focused on the fact that you would have to be working closely with him throughout this heist. Compared to the last heist, which was your first, there were going to be more security guards. He needed someone to watch his back, he told you. You agreed to it, but in your mind, your thoughts were racing on how this was going to be a difficult time for you.

Not because of lack of skill. But because of what happened during your first heist with them. After having occasional but easily dismissible thoughts about Hans during those months of planning. Once you saw him at work for the first time, you knew at once you were completely, utterly fucked.

His commanding presence he had during the planning was pushed to the max. His calculated and confidence he had over his control over the whole situation. And by God how he could use his gun.

You recalled when things had slightly gone awry, and he had to kill someone. You saw him shoot the man without hesitation. The man had fell forward onto him, getting some blood on his clothing. He pushed him off, and you could hear him mutter in irritation about how he didn’t want his suit ruined. In staring at him, your immediate thought was how you wanted to be the one to ruin his suit.

You wanted to immediately shoot yourself for that thought and having it during the job no less. You hoped and prayed to whatever you could believe in that moment that it wasn’t one of those “Freudian Slips” you heard about. It was a tense situation, seeing that the kill caused a disruption in the plans. Your mind must have been trying to work through it. That’s all. Nothing more.

But throughout the whole heist, those kinds of thoughts didn’t go away; They only got worse.

His commanding voice over the radio telling you what needed to be done. The way he still tried to keep up his perfect appearance such as fixing his hair over the course of the robbery. The small moments where he raised his voice in both English and German when things were starting to get intense. And when it was over, when all of you got out of the building and he sent a wild, dangerous smirk to you, knowing that things went according to plan, it cemented in your mind that your thoughts weren’t one off.

The sigh of relief you had once the mission was completely over had not been for the same reason that the others let out sighs. For you, it meant that you could get away for a little bit to regain your control over your thoughts and feelings. Of course, that went all out the window when Hans pulled you aside to congratulate you on a first job well done with him.

Safe to say you had practically released yourself once you barely made your way through the front door of your home and went to bed in shame.

You worried in the back of your mind that this job was likely going to result in the same outcome as that night, only tenfold.

After moments of driving, you all could feel the truck come to a stop, signaling that you were near the location. One of the more upscale banks in the city. You had already passed out the equipment to everyone, and so Franco opened the door again. One by one you all exited the truck.

A rush of exhilaration hit you, making you remember why despite the dread of having to come back to work with Hans, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. You loved this line of work. So, the day after your initial heist, you made use of your skills in deceit and acting to bury any of those feelings deep down to maintain an appropriate relationship with him. Only speaking when spoken to, offering polite but short conversations with him. Never went out of line to what was considered professional.

However, your heart began pounding for a different reason, as you all began to disperse into the groups that were made during the planning. Karl, Franco, Marco and Uli were set to go in the front to cause the controlled chaos to distract the unsuspecting patrons and security guards. James and Heinrich were set to take the sides to make sure no one had tried to make an escape while looking out for the police. Alexander was to quickly run interference with Theo and Eddie, who, if things had gone smoothly, were already in the building, and then came back to Fritz who was running the truck. They would both be waiting for Tony and Kristoff, who would have the spare cars, who would also start to load the truck with what had been in the bank vaults.

It would be up to you and Hans to secure the route from the back.

The two of you waited by the back entrance, Hans began to set his radio to the channel frequency that the guards had on, as Theo told him in the days prior and was hopefully at this point listening in on the channel as well. You prepared by getting your gun out and making sure the magazine was loaded.

Looking back up, you caught the brief second of Hans looking over to you, or more towards your hands as you worked the gun. Just as quickly as you caught it, he looked up to meet your gaze.

“Bist du bereit?” He asked.

There were practical benefits to being around him. You were able to catch onto German phrases and words he said at times. And being a fast learner, you would say you were efficient enough in it.

You nodded. “Ich bin bereit.”

He got the gleam in his eyes that he had during the times that he was planning for this. You knew well by now that he was just as excited as you were, despite the calm demeanor he always kept on.

That’s one of the things that intrigued you to him and found increasingly attractive. Despite the professional appearance he kept on, how he always seemed annoyed by the others when they acted out, you could tell he enjoyed the chaotic nature of this work. He was in his element. And you realized this quickly as he often sought out your company. Which often ruined your attempts to try to maintain that professional, appropriate relationship.

You were certain it was because you were new in his gang, and he wanted to know what assets you brought. And you could say you brought a lot. For this heist he had asked you for aid in planning it out. Throughout the times you were with him, he valued what you had to say, always maintaining eye contact, never shooting down your ideas. It was nice to know your talents weren’t going to waste. Still, that proximity whenever he invited you into his office to work with him was rough. You constantly had to fight down the thoughts of wanting to jump at him and have him on his desk.

Just like now, you were fighting an urge to lunge at him. You just looked ahead at the door. Not long after, from the distance you could hear the faint gunshots and shouting, then soon after the yelling from the guards. Hans quickly switched over to the channel that Theo had planned to be on.

“Go ahead.” You could hear the upbeat manner in Theo’s voice over the radio.

Hans made his way first and you followed suit. Security guards were likely to be trying to deal with what was going on in the front, but it was likely they were making their way through to secure all of the exits. So, the two of you had to be quick and careful. Not that either of you would’ve mind having a body count by the end of this, but it would make things easier not to.

The building would normally have gone on lockdown by this point, but with Theo having gotten here early using well-made ID’s, he made sure the back exit wasn’t. You could imagine he was sitting in the security room, feet on the desk while watching over the cameras and having control over the locks. Including the bank vaults.

In no time you made it to the bank vaults, seeing the extra bags Eddie had placed in a discreet location on the morning of when arriving with Theo to get this heist started. Seeing that there was now extra room in your personal duffle bag, you placed it down onto the table and waited for the clear ahead to start opening the vaults up.

Hans took note of what you were doing. “Quick thinking. Now our projected take could increase if we make haste.”

Despite your best efforts to maintain that professional and appropriate distance, you couldn’t help at times to engage with him, just to get a rise out of him and to satisfy yourself. But other times he was also good company to engage with. Always having something to say yet never wasting his breath. It felt like a good engagement of your intellect whenever you talked with him.

“No, it will still be the same.” You spoke.

“How so?” He furrowed his brows.

“Simple. This duffle bag has been mine for years. So, whatever I put in there will be mine.”

You weren’t serious, as much as you wanted to be. And he could see that, as he sent an amused grin to you. It wasn’t often that he cracked a smile at anyone else. At least anyone that he knew. The strangers Hans would have to snake his way through with a polite smile and fake laughter. Really the only person you ever saw him smile at was Theo during your time in the gang. Perhaps something about your sense of humor was compatible with his, as you could make him laugh during the times when you were able to keep down your more perverse thoughts about him.

Though, at times, the more perverse thoughts were preferable. Because in those moments when he did laugh, or even smiled genuinely, you could feel your heart leap a bit. As time went on, you found yourself staring at him and getting an urge to find out what made him tick. To know him more intimately.

These thoughts that you couldn’t pinpoint, or even wanted to, were a lot more embarrassing somehow. At least the lustful thoughts were straightforward. But the other feelings you got when you looked at him weren’t. It was ridiculous. As you waited for Theo’s signal, you had to remind yourself that this was not the time or place to have any kinds of feelings, impure or otherwise.

Luckily, Theo gave you the clear ahead to get started and you and Hans began to quickly open the vaults and start stuffing the bags as much as you could.

Even actively knowing you had to fight off the urges and focus on the tasks at hand, you couldn’t help but sneak glances in his direction. Unsurprisingly, you found yourself facing the same problems previously. Only now, you were getting a better view than the previous heist, on a lot of things. You could see the payoff of those times he explained how he was to execute his plan. See him actively work, watch his hands move meticulously, see his face contort to pure concentration to the tasks at hand.

You had to keep subtly hitting yourself as you packed to bring you back into reality and to quit leering at him.

After adequately stuffing your own duffle bag, you figured that you would quickly make your way to the truck to place it in there. You would need both of your hands to carry the extra bags that had already been brought.

You didn’t waste time informing Hans what you were doing. If he got angry at you for not giving a heads up, it wouldn’t have been the worst thing truth be told. He did look a little hotter when he was riled up.

With that in mind-as much as it shouldn’t be this time around- you made your way back to where you two had made a clear path. The gunfire and shouting were muffled, so you knew the guards were still occupied. Quietly yet quickly making your way, you were glad to have made the choice to go to the truck with just this first as it was heavy. But nothing you couldn’t manage.

Exiting out the back, you found Kristoff waiting by the truck. He saw you and expertly caught the duffle bag when you tossed it.

“I’ll count this, and if I find you pocket any of it-” He began to joke.

“Yeah yeah shut up load it.” You rushed back to the exit.

You were never afraid to have a bit of a bite within this group. Most of the other men did with each other, and even towards Hans, much to his annoyance. So, you did as well. It made it easier to be curt with him and end the conversation as soon as you felt your thoughts getting better of you. He reacted just the same whenever you were like that, waving you off or dismissing you. Though recently he had been challenging you back, which made you weak. But then you just do the same thing he’d done to you and leave. Overall, you felt that you were doing a well enough job at keeping the feelings down.

You admit, your thoughts were sidetracked on Hans once more. So, when a straggling security guard that either managed to get away or was already somewhere else when the heist began got the jump on you, you were quick to be embarrassed with yourself. Already imagining Theo laughing his ass off first and then telling Hans what was going on next.

You could accept the brief mockery from Theo after you guys got finished, but any form of insult from Hans might just do you in. And not in the sense that your ego would be bruised.

Now the idea of Hans being insulting towards you almost made you want to be poor at handling this guy.

Sadly, not the time or place. Adrenaline kicked in and you got him off of you as quickly as he jumped on you. Your gun flew out of your sling as you had maneuvered him off, so you had to be quick with your hands. His gun fired but you had been able to grab it right before it went off. The intense ringing in your ear was nothing new, but you still had to push through. Getting the gun fully out of his hand and punching him hard in the face, you didn’t waste time shooting him in the face.

He dropped dead to the ground instantly. And you suddenly wanted to hit yourself on the head. That would’ve been the perfect time to get injured and be forced to take leave off of work.

Before reprimanding yourself, you realized Hans was standing just a few feet in front of you, bags in both of his hands.

“Were you just watching me?” You asked, hoping that the flush in your face wasn’t too noticeable as you picked back your gun up, or something that could’ve been brushed off.

“I was waiting. There was not enough space to walk by as you two fought.” He stepped over the body and moved past you, instantly understanding that he let the bag hit you on purpose as you quickly caught his grin before he made his way down the hall. “Now there is.”

“Backpfeifengesicht!” You called out to him, and you could hear his faint chuckle echo through the halls. You huffed and went back to the safes.

After a few minutes of stuffing the next bags, you saw Hans enter in to load up the last few ones. Right before however, he almost casually rubbed down and patted at your shoulder.

“Good work.”

It happened so quickly that you nearly didn’t process it. But you had to snap yourself back into reality and just made quicker work in loading the bags. You paid the compliment no mind verbally, instead just telling him that you were nearly done with loading up the two bags by your side. On the inside however, you started to beam and become even more frustrated at the same time. You expected this job to be harder, yes. But having to experience more physical contact with him was something you hadn’t prepared your mind for. Sure, if he had needed to direct you somewhere he lightly guided you by ever so faintly placing his hand on your shoulder, that made sense.

This one however felt… more. Was the best way to describe it. Which was objectively true. He didn’t need to place his hands onto people unless he had a point to make, like pushing them away or directing them to a location. This wasn’t something to be expected of him.

And to be paired with a compliment…

You were much quicker in leaving the safe room, carrying the bags. Of course you would have to come back to cover him, as he needed. But you needed a moment to have air to yourself.

Not long after coming back from handing Tony the next bags, Hans was also about ready. You grabbed one of them so he could have a free hand. Theo radioed in.

“Just when I’m working on getting the security footage out, I get notified by one of the guards that the police are closing in. So, hurry it up.”

Hans, once again to your surprise, placed a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. Keeping your cool, he handed you the other bag.

“Take this out to the truck and get a car secured. I am going to signal to the front group that it’s time to go.”

You nodded and began to quickly make your way to the back. It was about halfway through that your brain suddenly got onto the latter part of what he asked. Having to drive one of the cars was to be expected, that wasn’t what caught your attention. What caught your attention was how it sounded like he was going to join you.

You had to have been overthinking that detail. You knew Eddie and Theo would have their own cars as they had planted themselves to just be simple bystanders and patrons within the bank. With Alexander, James, and Heinrich likely splitting off to join either one in the car, seeing as far as you knew, no one saw them. Tony and Kristoff were likely going to stay with Fritz to keep eyes on both the money and the roads, with Karl more than likely joining them to be safe. That still left one of the other three at the very least to get into the car with you.

Just as you expected, Karl managed to leave quickly before the others and already be by the truck. You handed him the two bags, him being quick to load it up. Kristoff took the passenger seat of the truck and Karl and Tony got into the back and shut the door. But not before Karl gave you the keys to either car. Of course, they were the first to leave, needing to secure the money after all.

You decided to pick one of the more subtle cars, which wasn’t all that subtle, Hans still had taste. To get the other car ready you at least unlocked it for them and placed the key inside. You were quick to get to the other car and onto the driver’s side, already starting it up so it was ready to go. Soon after, Hans was exiting out to the back and saw you, making his way over to the passenger side.

“I didn’t take you as the type to drive a getaway.” He remarked as he got in.

“If it needs to be done, I’ll do it.” You closed your door.

“Then start driving.”

Oh, fuck me, of course, you thought. Of course, you two had to have this car to yourself.

You didn’t let that falter you as you made your way out of the bank area as discreetly as you could. At least you could focus on the roads to distract your mind. That and the faint police sirens also served as a good distraction as well.

Although you still had to listen to Hans as he directed you on which roads to take. Now that there had been a more stable environment where you could get a solid look at him, his appearance was a bit disheveled. You had to find a quick and effortless way to tune him out and only process what he was saying that was of immediate importance.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to be out of earshot from the sirens. You found yourself relaxing a bit.

Which wasn’t a long time relaxing as you heard Hans let out a breathy laugh, and out of the corner of your eye caught him re-adjusting his hair.

“Das hast du gut gemacht.” He said with that same gleam in his eyes as before you started the heist.

You felt your brain had a short circuit, not immediately answering him back. Fighting to get your mind out of the gutter so that you two didn’t land in a gutter from crashing the car, you quickly thanked him. You hoped your delay in speech would be taken as you focusing on the road. Same with you gripping the wheel just a bit too tightly.

Even when giving your attention onto the road ahead, you could feel his intense stare on you. Before you could ask yourself why he had been doing that, it was answered quickly as you felt a soft cloth on the side of your face.

You flinched, looking over to him, not hiding the confusion in your face. He had a handkerchief in his hand, which now you could see was starting to turn red.

“What are you doing?” Like you couldn’t put it together.

“There’s a cut on your cheek. I’m wiping it off on the chance a passerby notices or the police pull us over.” He stated.

You were quick to grab it from him, putting pressure on the cut. It must’ve come from the stray bullet the guard shot.

“The police won’t pull us over.” You said.

A beat of silence. Hans moved his hand away.

“You’re supposed to drive with both hands.”

“Please.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I’m an expert at driving with one hand. It’s not a problem for me to keep the other busy.”

You hated how easy it was to walk into those dirty thoughts of yours and had to stop yourself from going any further.

“I’ll remember that when you crash the car and we land in a ditch.” He said.

You made a show of waving the handkerchief and then tucking it in one of your pockets, like you were getting back at him for insulting you. But really, you figured you were going to wash it out first before giving it back to him. You were a criminal, not a monster.

With both your hands back on the wheel, you focused back on the road that would eventually lead to the current hideout. Which, now that this heist was complete, wouldn’t be one much longer. Hans has described previously that within the next few weeks they would move the base of operations somewhere else.

When arriving back, the sun had begun to set, and you could see the truck already in the lot. Parking, exiting the car and going into the warehouse, you and Hans didn’t have to wait long for the rest to come back. He began distributing the cut to each of you, with delighted cheers and hollering. You were all satisfied, though that tiny part of you wished you were able to keep just a little extra from your bag. Still, you began to catch on that after a heist was committed, it would call for a slight celebration of your victory and spoils. “Slight” for some of the men meant they had one too many drinks.

Not to say that you didn’t have a few, but you certainly weren’t as bad as some of them.

You would’ve drunk more, but even just a few in you could tell you were beginning to be careless, sneaking longer glances at Hans as he drank a glass of wine of his own. You were about ready to squeeze your glass so hard that it could break if it meant that you stopped your thoughts.

It wasn’t your slightly buzzed brain or imagination that he was lost in thought. Or- not lost in thought, but rather intensely focused on something within his mind. Rarely did he speak when the last celebration occurred. But this felt like a different kind of quiet. It was like how he was thinking over a plan in his mind. You wanted to keep looking at him, as if you found the answer through your staring. But you had to pay attention to yourself, and resort to glances as he took sips. The brand left much to be desired, but you were starting to wish you were the glass.

You had to take a few moments to yourself from time to time to get it together and sober up. Which were inconspicuous as the others had to constantly leave and piss from the amount of alcohol they were drinking. Marco nearly took it out to go right in front of everyone at the table, much to you and their yelling for him not to.

And you had a reason for leaving at least one time, properly washing the dried blood from your face, and cleaning out the handkerchief in a sink. You chuckled to yourself as you looked at it. Hans seemed the type to carry one around. You never saw him use it though.

That made you stop and think. This one did look particularly clean. At least, before the blood. Newer is a better description. Despite the purpose of a handkerchief, this didn’t look like one you would want to get dirty. Just a piece of fabric you carried around to show people you had it as some kind of symbol. Yet he used it to wipe up your face.

Thinking about his excuse, your mind couldn’t see how it made any sense. Being that the other side of your face was towards the window. Sure, if someone squinted really hard from the other directions, it was possible they could see the cut. And there was still that chance the police could’ve pulled you over; they will pull anyone over for anything. But a cut to the face wasn’t exactly suspicious.

You felt your mind a bit too clouded in what little alcohol you had, as well as your dirty thoughts, so it wasn’t easy to try to piece together what all that meant. You looked down at the piece of fabric and decided it was going to get as clean as it could get. You soon joined back with the others. Who, once again, had continued to try to stop Marco from going onto the table.

While they had done that, you went over to Hans and wordlessly placed down the handkerchief. His look of focus faltered as he quickly took note of it and looked up at you. You were already starting to walk back to your own spot.

“No gratitude?” Hans asked.

“You should be showing me gratitude for cleaning it.” You said without missing a beat as you relaxed back into your seat.

He didn’t. Instead, he studied you with the same stare he had before you interrupted him. You paid him no mind and used your drink to cover your face, and just kept watching the men wrestle Marco off the table.

It was clear to many of the members as time went on, it was time to call it a night and return to their own place of residence. One by one, or two, if the other needed a driver that badly, they left. You found yourself hardly focusing on what state people left in as you could feel Hans watching you. You wanted to go up to him and tell him to take a picture instead.

You didn’t think that would go over well, so instead, you soon planned to be one of the ones to get back home before it got too late. Taking your duffle, which had your cut, you were ready to leave, nearly walking out the door when Hans called out to you. Hearing him say your name somehow was a lot more intoxicating to you than any alcohol that was here. You stopped and turned around, seeing what he needed.

He walked toward you with a purposeful stride and you couldn’t help but eyed the way he moved. His suit still looking clean and pronouncing his figure well. His speaking made you focus back on his face.

“I’m going to be looking over new locations; I’ll need your assistance.”

“Why me?” You curtly asked.

“You’re the only one who is not completely inebriated.” As if on cue you could hear Karl break something and cheer drunkenly, causing his brother to shout at him to stop while Theo instigated him on. Hans could only give a look of annoyance in their direction and look back at you.

“Good point.” You conceded.

He began to make his way to his office, gesturing to you to follow. Before entering the room, he shouted at the other two to take Karl home before he broke anything else.

That would just leave the two of you left in the warehouse.

The idea of being left alone with a man like Hans would terrify anyone who wasn’t in the same line of work he was. And to a certain degree, it did terrify you. However, that was hidden underneath the feeling of exhilaration that you were fighting off as he let you in first and closed the door behind him. You couldn’t count on blaming the alcohol if you slipped up and said, or God forbid, do anything.

You prayed that this would be quick.

He got to work on describing what locations he thought best to move to, pulling aside a map of the downtown area. He showed you the places that he and his crew had already occupied before, with him explaining how he would like to stay away from the same locations. At least, away from it for a good amount of time.

Your mind tried it’s best to listen to what he had been saying, as it was important. But other parts of you were focused on the way his hands moved and where you’d like to have them at.

You constantly had to stop yourself and actually pay attention to what he was saying and asking of you. At least throughout the heist, you had plenty of excuses to not listen to him or directly respond to what he was saying, being that you were so focused on your own thing. However, you didn’t have any excuse to not listen and barely respond to him now. The quietness of the place would make it easy enough to catch any lingering pauses or delayed responses. You needed to be on high guard on your behavior, as you had been the prior times you collaborated with him in his office.

As you gave your suggestions on the locations he had in mind and tossed around your own ideas, you could tell that despite you looking down at the map, he was watching you. This kind of watching you had grown more accustomed to, even expecting this of him. You felt he was the kind of listener to give his undivided attention to whoever was speaking. And he had done so when you met with him prior.

But with how the lighting in his office was dim just enough to set a mood. How close the two of you were physically by his desk. Feeling the heat coming from his body. Smelling the expensive cologne he had on. It was making you dizzy.

After some time, with him narrowing down a few locations that had seemed to be the best and easiest to relocate to, and seeing that it was getting much later, you figured now you’d be able to make your leave.

“Glad I could be of assistance,” you said, as you began to make your way to the door. “I’ll make sure we can get a truck to move our things.”

Just as you were opening the door, you felt Hans come up from behind and closed it back gently, with his hand on yours. You turned your head to face him, trying to hide your shock with mild confusion.

“There is also another matter I want to discuss with you.” He stated.

“What is it?” You turned your body to him more, moving your hand away from him and expecting him to take a few steps back. However, he didn’t, which only left at least half of a foot between you two, if at that. His hand being still on the door, leaving not much room for you to move anywhere else.

“Did I offend you in any way?” His accented voice was low and purposeful. You could already feel the heat creeping up your neck, among other areas.

But you were genuinely confused now. “What?”

“Did I offend you in any way?” He repeated.

The question had baffled you so much that you couldn’t help but answer genuinely. “Not that I can think of.”

You knew his jabs from earlier today were made in playful fun, as were yours. “Why?”

“You seem to be quick to end conversations with me compared to the rest of the group.”

Despite keeping a calm demeanor on the outside, you were running circles in your head. You had really hoped that your behavior towards him wasn’t noticeable. But of course, it was, at least to a man like him, who always strived to perfect the details and to look out for loose ends.

You played it off. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time is all.”

He gave a subtle smirk at that; one you could clearly see with how close you were to him. Now you were doing his best to not look at his lips, doing your best to maintain eye contact. However, his piercing stare wasn’t helping your state of mind either.

“That’s very kind, however that doesn’t explain why you always have a strict tone with me and have difficulty paying attention in our one-to-one conversations where I require your attention.”

“I don’t understand.” You figured if playing dumb could work on the cops it could work now. It was your only hail Mary at this point.

“You hardly were focused today when doing your part of the job. Well- focused on what need to be done of course, you were excellent with that,” You inhaled through your nose lightly, trying to regain composure. “But when it came to talking to me, you didn’t seem like you were focused on what I had to say.”

You tried to think of something else to say as a rebuttal, but he continued.

“Moments throughout the heist. During the car ride. When discussing locations. Even now,” Hans moved to get even closer to you, his face only a couple of inches away from yours. “I can see you have to bring back your attention to what I’m saying to you.”

You’d been holding your breath. You were sure to either pass out or die at any moment if oxygen didn’t reach your brain.

His voice got quieter, lower, despite you two being the only ones in this room, in this building.

“Tell me, what are you thinking about when you’re with me?”

That was it. You couldn’t take it anymore. You weren’t going to tell him. You were going to show him.

You were quick to grab the sides of his face and make a dive right for his lips, not at all being gentle as the months of buildup in your mind and body suddenly hit you. His lips were as soft as they looked, in contrast with the facial hair he had that scratched your mouth a bit. You closed your eyes as the kiss sent a jolt throughout your body.

You mentally braced yourself for when he pushed you off. Seeing that you didn’t even give him a chance to prepare for your response. However, it shocked you when Hans was just as quick to adjust his own lips to kiss you right back. You slightly pulled back in disbelief, opening your eyes for a moment. But he got right back onto your lips and pinned you more against the door, his hands going to your hips.

You let out a surprised noise that delved far too quickly into a stifled moan, your hands moving through his hair as you closed your eyes again. It only encouraged him to keep kissing you, his pressure being as intense as you had figured it to be. It didn’t take long before he pressed his tongue against your mouth. You let him have access, deepening your kissing. You tasted the leftover wine he had, and while you never cared for the brand he had that night, you felt that you could make an exception this time.

You pulled at his hair gently, which got a noise out of him. And you were eager to get more out of him. However, he stopped kissing you, much to your frustration that you couldn’t hide at this point. Hans let out a dark chuckle, and you swear you never wanted to beat up a man as much as you did right then.

“I didn’t think I was making that much of an impact on you.”

“You’re full of shit.” You breathed out. You could always tell when he was lying through his teeth when he had a certain kind of twinkle in his eye, which he had right now. He laughed a little louder that time. Which gave you further confirmation, as well as making your face grow hotter.

“Was I really that obvious?” You found yourself hesitating to ask.

“Hmm.” He hummed thoughtfully. “No. At least it wouldn’t be to someone who wasn’t watching you.” He leaned close to your ear, dragging one hand up your body all the way to the base of your jaw. “And I was watching you for a while .”

You shuddered at that, and at the realization of his words. Sure, you saw how today he was observing you. But the idea that he had known for a while and didn’t let any signs show, it made your heart leap right into your throat and your insides burn a bit more. You felt exposed.

The chills you had only got more intense as Hans began to leave a trail of kisses, traveling from below your ear and making his way down to your throat, one hand still on your jawline and the other on your hip that kept you in place. He craned your head to get you open.

His impossibly gentle kissing turned into him sucking and biting at your neck. You’d probably need to wear a turtleneck for a bit. But you didn’t care. The noise you let out from your throat was guttural. You could feel him smirk against your skin. Your irritation with his teasing grew, and so you quickly moved your hands from his hair and grabbed at his hips, pulling them closer against your own. Your arms wrapped around his lower back so he couldn’t move. You immediately noted the tent that was beginning to form in his pants. You thought with how quickly it seemed to have appeared, he must’ve been extremely pent up and needed a form of release. Or there was a bit of a chance that Hans had been deeply attracted to you as you were to him.

You couldn’t count on that, nor did you want to for a man like him. And at this point, it didn’t really matter to you what the origins of his advances were. Whether he actually felt something, just liked the idea of you being needy for him, or needed an outlet, you couldn’t care less. Hans wasn’t rejecting you, and you were desperate to get more friction between the two of you.

You moved your hips against him, which only led you to be even more frustrated when in response he slowly, almost lazily, gave thrusts back. It was not enough for you.

“Hans.” You groaned out, gripping at his suit jacket.

“Ja?” He asked, in a disgustingly polite voice, like he didn’t know.

“Move.”

“Move what?”

You used a hand to punch the side of him. Not too hard, but enough to get your frustration across. He laughed against your skin, and you really wanted to punch him harder then.

“You know what I mean by ‘move’.”

“Where’s the fun in rushing?” Hans teased, as he went back to nipping at your throat.

“It’s not rushing if I’ve been waiting for fucking months for this.” You said, not caring how pathetic and desperate you sounded. Your straightforwardness caught him off guard as he faltered slightly in his movements and he had bitten down slightly harder than before on your throat. The pain shot through you, but you discovered how much you had enjoyed that. After a moment of recomposing himself, he went back to his slow thrusting.

You felt him mutter against your neck. “If you’ve waited this long, you can wait just a little bit longer.” Hans began to caress his hands slowly and deliberately over your body. Barely adding enough pressure, it was a graze when he went over your chest.

You’ve never felt the desire to kill someone you wanted to have sex with so badly more than you had now. Yet Hans, ever the exceptional thief, managed to do both.

You hated how much it turned you on.

You wanted to push his buttons. To get him to unravel in the same way he made you. You thought for a moment, which was hard to do as all you wanted to think about was his lips on you and how he seemed to be savoring every sound you let out. How he relished in the way your body was arching involuntarily at his touch.

You suddenly had a quick moment of clarity and slightly tilted your head down to him as he kissed at your collarbone.

“But can you ?”

He stopped his movements, which irritated you internally, but you could hold off from the slight instant gratification if it meant you got what you wanted quicker. He still had his face in the crook of your neck.

“Wie bitte?” He asked.

“Can you wait, if you had to?”

Realizing your question was in response to what he said prior, he answered, “Of course.”

You moved your hands to his shoulders to slightly push him off to get him to look at you.

“I don’t think you can.”

Hans eyed you as he slightly straightened his posture. He could tell you were up to something but hadn’t pieced together in his mind what it was just yet. You had to be quick to catch him further off guard and set him off.

“In fact, I think you’re pretty desperate.” You challenged.

You can tell it struck something within him as his eyes became more alert. However, he kept the suave demeanor he always had.

“I wasn’t the one who lunged for a kiss.”

You raised your eyebrows and could feel the smirk tugging at your lips. “But you did corner me at the door right before I left.”

He furrowed his brows at that. You knew you had him; You just had to keep reeling him in. With newfound confidence, you nonchalantly pushed past him and walked back to his desk. You looked down and casually tapped on the map that was laying out on the table still.

“You also brought me in here for ‘personal help’ with picking out the next location,” You looked over at him briefly, shrugged, and looked back at the map. “You got lucky with a good excuse of needing someone who wasn’t drunk. But after thinking about it, you don’t have a good reason for why you set it up for us to be together throughout the whole robbery.”

You fixed your posture, having not heard so much as a breath from him. But you didn’t have to look at him to know his stare was directly on you.

“Anyone could’ve helped in watching your back. It would’ve been smarter and safer to have more than one person watching you. Especially since compared to the rest, I’m new in your group. That could've been disastrous had I made one miscalculation and not have another help clean up the mess.”

You hadn’t initially made these observations when they happened but saying them out loud as they came to you in the heat of the moment, it made you realize how obvious Hans was in trying to be alone with you. As much as it made you feel stupid, it was churning your stomach.

“Hell, you even had us drive back in the same car! What, were you hoping for a quickie during the ride back? Or inside of the building?” The idea made your face heat up and you were glad to have been facing away from him for a moment, so he didn’t see. Not that you would’ve been opposed to either scenario. But he didn’t need to know that.

“That’s more pathetic than me. I was expecting a lot more-”

You didn’t get to finish your thought as you felt a force push your upper half down into the desk, causing a loud smack and some items to fly off. Despite having the wind slightly knocked out of you, you caught the feeling of one of his hands that shielded you from hitting your head on the desk too hard. Before you could process anything else, you felt his body press against behind you more as he quickly grabbed your arms to pin them behind your back.

With this new angle, you could feel just how much harder Hans had become as his hips dug into your backside.

Maneuvering to free one hand, he dragged it up towards your head and grabbed a fist full of your hair. He pulled your head up and leaned in close to speak against your ear.

“Du bist nur ein Lustobjekt.”

It was the first time you heard his voice wavering in its pitch, like he was barely containing himself. You wished you had started with this tactic sooner. You turned your head as much as he would let you. You were able to see the dangerous look in his eyes. You finally had him right where you wanted him. How you wanted him during these past weeks since you would join him in his planning inside this office.

You couldn’t fight off the wicked smile as you spoke. “Du bist ein Lustmolch.”

Proving your point in a way, he wasted no time as he went right for your lips in a hungry kiss, which you were eager to meet back. You didn’t suppress your moans, and even if you wanted to it was hard to do so, as he was still gripping your hair and was dry humping you at this point. The pressure from him and the edge of the desk that was poking your front side was killing you. You started to move to increase the friction, however his grip around your pinned arms tightened and he pushed you further into the table, holding you in place and limiting your movements.

In response, you bit his lips hard. Now tasting a combination of wine and blood. Hearing him grunt gave you some satisfaction, but you wanted more of it. More of him. However, he let go of your head and rose from his position. You groaned in frustration, lightly bumping your head against the desk in annoyance. Your annoyance turned into a mixture of confusion as he let go of your hands suddenly just as he grabbed them. He moved away from you completely, and you started to push yourself up and question him. But the words died on your lips as he made his way around the desk and spoke.

“Undress and get back on the desk.”

The words struck you hard with a newfound and intense feeling of pleasure. You got up, and as you were beginning to remove your articles of clothing, you got a better look at Hans as he was looking through his desk’s drawers. You could see how heavily he was breathing even as he attempted to control it. His hair was a mess. He had a smudge of blood around his lips, and his cheeks flushed. You didn’t even think that it was possible for him to do. Only his suit jacket had been unbuttoned at this point. But it being opened allowed you to get a better picture of what he was packing in his pants.

Just as you had been halfway out of your clothes, he found what he had been looking for. He pulled out a bottle of lubricant and a packet of condoms, which he tore from the set. Your knees buckled at the sight of it and had at first grown embarrassed at the idea that he kept those within reach. But you found a way to work around it.

“Oh, so you’d decided you were going to have me here?”

He looked up at you and paused for a moment as he took in what he could currently see of you. Seeing and practically feeling him eye you up and down felt like he was the one undressing you.

“Nein, du Dummerchen.” Hans said in response to your question. You could see that twinkle again. Your heart missed a beat at that.

You were just getting ready to take off your underwear, but Hans seemed to be just as impatient as you had been. He wasted no time getting you back on your stomach. And you were more certain that he had been just a bit gentler in making sure you didn’t get as winded as before. He didn’t even pin your hands behind your back. But you didn’t comment on that.

“I wasn’t done.” You huffed out.

“You were taking too long.” He said.

You rolled your eyes, making sure that he saw you do so. “Just say you wanted to be the one to take them off, it’s not hard.”

He pushed your head down with one hand and grabbed at your hip tightly with the other. You let out a noise, the excitement evident on you as he began to use both of his hands to slowly pull down your underwear. It fell down your legs and pooled around your ankles. You could hear his breath hitching as he started to slowly caress you. Your eyes closed as you leaned into his touch. When his touch got rougher, you used a free hand to bury your face into your arm.

“Don’t cover too much of your face. I want to be able to hear you.”

You were about to have a smartass response when his thigh pressed up between your legs stopped you in your tracks. Finally feeling the fabric against your bare skin brought you back to the very first fleeting thought you had about him. Hans moved his hands away. The sound of the bottle opening barely processed in your mind.

He also began to say something but whatever it was, it didn’t matter all that much to you, and very quickly didn’t matter to him as he stopped talking once you began grinding on his thigh. You placed your hands on the edge of the desk that you faced to make your upper body more firmly planted while your lower body began moving. Your eyes closed, your head pressed against the surface, so you couldn’t see the look on his face. You just knew that he was watching you though.

You were finally getting the pressure and friction that you wanted between your legs and felt yourself breathing quickly as you allowed yourself to move faster against him. The trance that had hit him finally broke as he got his hands onto your hips again, forcing you to stop. You banged one of your fists on the desk.

“Come on!” If he kept doing this to you soon you weren’t going to have any kind of feeling for him besides hate.

“Slowly.” He loosened his grip.

You groaned but figured you could compromise. You focused on maintaining a consistent speed, dragging your body with slow movements while still applying enough pressure to satisfy you. He fully let go as you could hear him picking back up the bottle. After a few moments, you felt his hand on you, this time noting that his fingers were lubricated. He moved his thigh away, but you weren’t all that disappointed, knowing what was meant to come. In more ways than one.

You felt a finger press into you slowly, causing you to gasp. The second you did he paused in his movements. You realized he was giving you time to adjust. It was odd, as you thought about it. How there had been little moments throughout this session where he had been gentle, was the best way to put it. His appearance may have tried to present to the general public that he was a gentleman. And maybe he believed that himself. But that’s not what you saw. You could see how ruthless he was. “Gentleman” would be putting it lightly.

The thought of the handkerchief briefly entered your mind, and you would’ve dwelled on it more, but Hans started to speak again.

“May I move?”

“Yes.”

He pushed deeper into you and started to pump his index finger at a slow pace. Your breathing hitched with every movement he made and started to feel the head within your body increase. His other hand kept caressing you, in a way that felt almost like he was soothing you. In your heated daze you tried to think more about how much he had those “kind” moments, especially today. It was giving you great cognitive dissonance of the man you were sure to have known during your time here, and these little “blink and you’ll miss it” moments he had with you.

You felt him pull out his finger, and you made an embarrassing noise that subsided when you felt him press two fingers against your entrance. Just as before he took his time to gently enter you, only moving when you told him to. This time, he applied much more pressure in his fingers, allowing him to get more lube onto you. Your breathing was exchanged with consistent grunts and moaning at the new sensation. Yet it started to not feel enough. You encouraged him by rocking your hips against him.

He groaned, and tried to keep his voice and pace steady, though you could tell he was wavering. “Patience. I’m still preparing you.”

A weak laugh left you. “Are you saying that to me or to yourself?”

He only grunted as he shoved his fingers back into you a bit more forcefully, causing you to let out another moan in approval.

That roughness was what you had been expecting of Hans. Which you did get earlier. You figured that more of it was going to come out of him by this point. That other part of him, those moments of gentleness was something you couldn’t wrap your head around.

Although, you figured it wasn’t like people couldn’t have multiple traits or even faces to them. You had to keep a different one in your everyday life while you were a completely different person when on the clock. Who’s to say Hans wasn’t the same? Having that capability to be a man with many faces to him when the situation required for him to do so. That would then apply to the traits he had.

Still, no one could likely define what Hans’ true face was. That’s just how it was for a man like him. You picked on that right after you first met him. You pondered to yourself what version of himself was he showing you now. Something in your, or somewhere deeper, hoped this version had some truth to it.

You stopped your mind from delving further into that thought. Convince yourself that there was no point to it. Right here, right now, you just tried to focus on the sensations that were being felt throughout your body.

He exited out of you again, this time, and you were hoping for the last time, inserted another finger. He wasn’t as slow as he had been before, with you being much more stretched and lubed up. It was easier for him to slip inside and to move around his fingers into slight angles that left your mouth agape as you closed your eyes to focus purely on his touch.

You could hear how heavy his breathing had become, and with how quiet the room has been, besides the noises you two were making, you heard him unzip his fly and undo his belt with one hand. A new sense of anticipation and pleasure hit you. You nearly felt like you could’ve finished from the thought of what was to come before it even happened. You leveled your breathing to control yourself.

Noting how you could barely contain yourself, he pulled his fingers out of you, and you could hear the crinkle of the condom packet opening. You held your hands against the edge of the desk and waited for him to be done.

One of his hands positioned your hip and you felt your heartbeat in long awaited excitement.

“Bist du bereit?”

Hearing the same phrase he had said to you right before the heist felt… It had felt a lot. Ridiculously hot, of course. But it led to a much bigger crack to the wall you had put up in trying to distance yourself from any deeper feelings. The possibility that it may have been something just a little bit more to him wasn’t zero.

When you first envisioned these moments, what felt like a while ago, you were perfectly fine- or really hoping he’d be behind you. He had the figure built for that, and the full dominating aspect delighted you. However, you had some second thoughts about that.

You steadied yourself, more mentally than physically if anything. Still, you turned your head slightly, not enough to see him well but for him to hear you clearly.

“Can I turn around?”

You’d figure that, in the worst case, he’d reject your request and maybe even humiliate you. Which wouldn’t have been the worst thing for a man like him, or even for someone like you. Either way, you could move on. People in your line of work had to be adequate to rob a place. Maybe this was no different.

There was a pause, and you felt like the whole energy in the room shifted. You didn’t even think that to be possible. Still, you waited.

“Yes.”

He removed his hand from you, allowing you to move into the position you wanted to be in.

Maneuvering your body to fully face him, you could see that his clothes were still intact, besides the zipper and the belt being undone. You tried not to gawk at what he had going on below too much, knowing you were going to feel it in a moment. As you pressed your back against the surface and lifted your legs, he helped hold them up and hovered over you. You caught how he had a combination of the look of intense focus he had during the celebration, and the gleam in his eyes right before committing to a heist.

You felt a lot more confident in replying to him.

“Ich bin bereit.”

He didn’t waste any more time positioning himself before your entrance, and pushed himself right in. There wasn’t much of a struggle on your part, as you accepted him easily. You arched your back into him, letting out a moan filled with relief. He didn’t fare much better in containing the noise he made.

He leaned further towards you, and as he did you grabbed ahold of his shoulders and wrapped your legs around him. He planted his hands by the sides of you. You wanted him to start moving immediately, but you knew you had to be just a little smart in allowing you to adjust to his size. Hans lowered his head to start kissing on your chest, nipping, and sucking around your nipples. You shuddered as he continued upward towards your collarbone and neck, traveling up to your ear. Your name left his mouth in a quick breath.

“How else do you want me?” Hans asked.

You groaned as you felt your face get hot, the smell from his cologne was making you dizzy. You couldn’t formulate anything coherent in your mind to get the proper words out.

“Just- fuck Hans.” You exhaled out.

“Oh, don’t worry, I intend to do that.” You felt that smug smirk against your ear. You pulled his head back to shut him up with a kiss, or rather a bite at his mouth. His smile only grew at that, and you were positive you felt him stiffen inside you more than he already was. You tasted that you had drawn more blood. You felt a little bit bad, but only just a little as he spoke against your lips.

“I just wanted to know how.” He teased in a lighter voice.

You wanted to call him every name in the book, and he knew that. Instead, you ran your hand through his hair gently as you looked at him. You thought of a good compromise that would give you both that exceptional thief side of him and that gentleman side of him that you could see from this position, and that you were banking on by the end of this.

Catching his confused but intrigued attention, you got closer to one of his ears.

“Fick mich härt.”

He wasted no time standing up straighter to get a better position. Your hands left his shoulders, moving down towards his forearms where you held his hands to be firmly on your hips, while also getting to grip at his suit. In a swift motion you watched him pull back just enough so he was barely inside of you and thrusted right back in.

You let out a loud and strained moan as you squeezed his arms. You knew you were going to feel this in the morning, but you were counting on that. He paused for a moment and only continued when you urged him to keep going. He started with a slow but fierce rhythm. His grunting matched with every move he made, his grip tightening around your hips as you let out moans that increased in volume as he kept going. You tried to keep your eyes open to look at him, wanting to burn the image of him over. He was starting to sweat, from still being dressed, and he had a bit of blood that was beginning to go down his chin.

He didn’t seem too concerned about his suit getting dirty this time, whether it be from the blood that dripped down onto his dress shirt’s collar, the sweat that was coming from him, or by you. He was so completely and utterly concentrated on pleasuring you. You could see his eyes were tracing every inch of your body. You felt yourself heat up even more than you thought possible at the idea of him also committing your imagery to memory.

“Hans-” You breathed.

“So eng,” He panted, as he looked down at you. “So eng für mich.”

And you only grew tighter around him with every word he spoke, German or otherwise. It wasn’t hard for him to notice that.

“Gelfällt dir das? When I speak?” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I would think you would’ve wanted to speak to me more then.”

The teasing tone he had started to mess with you, as you found yourself thrusting against him when he was faltering to talk to you.

“Or” He slightly raised his eyebrow as he studied you. “Is that why you always ended our conversations early? To excuse yourself so you could- “

“Sei ruhig.” You grunted.

“I don’t think you want that.” He challenged. And you attempted to sound annoyed when you groaned but it didn’t come across that way at all. It was a battle you immediately lost as he chuckled, but you weren’t going to let him know you were fine with that.

“It must’ve been difficult for you to keep your composure throughout the heist whenever we were alone.” He hummed to you in a low voice.

“Again, I didn’t make the plan-” You grunted mid-sentence as he thrusted a bit harder. “To get us alone. That was- uh - all you.”

“But you didn’t oppose, and I think you have enough bite in you to have said something.”

You laughed a bit through your grunts as he kept moving. “I’m not dumb enough to try to- oh . To try to go against the man in charge of my payroll who- shit - carries a gun.”

Your eyes had been closing to focus on feeling him, but you felt his hand come up to hold your chin lightly, causing you to get your attention and to look up at him. The playfulness he had subdued, replaced with a more serious look. He stopped mid-thrust.

“Did I make you feel pressured to be around me?”

His voice had a softness to him you hadn’t heard before, and concern that you didn’t know he had in him. It led you to act in a way you hadn’t in a long time due to the kind of life you led.

You brought your hand to his own, gently taking it and giving a kiss on his knuckles. You felt a lot more embarrassed doing this than anything prior, but it needed to be done. You looked back up to him.

“No, you haven’t.”

He looked at you for a moment, and seemed to be a bit more relaxed after hearing you say that. It felt nice having to experience something like this. It cemented the idea in your mind that he did value what you were worth. Whatever this was to be defined as could be defined later, however. You had a newfound urge that was stronger than before to see it to the end.

“You have made me feel an intense dislike towards you whenever you speak though.” You made sure to say that in a tone that you always used when being snarky to him, which he caught on.

“Why, are you not as thick-skinned as you try to appear to be when I take jabs at you?” He dragged his hand down your body.

“Oh, I can take it,” you said, already grinning at what you were about to say. “I just hate how after our long planning and your praises, I’ll always have to wash my bedsheets in the middle of the night.”

He took a second to process what that had meant. Once he did his face lit up like a fire. There were two things that you knew were big about him. One of them being his ego.

“I suppose we’re even now, since my suits get plenty dirty right after you leave.”

The air around the two of you became stuffier, his hands roaming your body as he continued to stretch you out as he started to move again. Your words came out between your panting.

“I guess since I’m getting your suit dirty, I’ll have to get my sheets dirty tonight to be fair.”

He let out a louder moan at that than you were expecting and let one particular thrust hit you in a spot that made you see stars. You took a moment to regain yourself.

“Are you imagining me touching myself?” You questioned him. The idea making you quiver. “Lustmolch.”

“Lass mich dein Maul stopfen.” He let out in a ragged breath. “Lustobjekt.”

“I don’t think you want that.” You mused aloud.

He must’ve had the same sense of urgency, as he snapped and his pace began to pick up, while still making sure he was rough with you. You arched into him more and you were being anything but quiet. Like you guessed, he didn’t cover your mouth or do anything to shut you up. It seemed to encourage him more. Even if the others were still at the hideout, you wouldn’t have cared at this point if they heard you or not. You would be going home richer and properly ruined. And that was fine with you. Besides, if you had tried to force yourself to be quiet, you were certain the noise of your bodies thumping against the wooden surface would’ve been a great indicator of what was going on.

“Bitte! Weiter!” You told him through your moans, and he complied by lifting your legs and pushing them as far as he could against you, allowing him to get a better angle to take you deeper.

The new position of his hands on your thighs, getting to feel more of his suit on your body helped you reach a new height of sensations and a sense of high. You could tell that it wasn’t going to be much longer if he kept this up. And it was clear he had no intention of slowing down. You did have to move your hands now as they couldn’t properly reach his arms. It was hard to think of a new place for them as you lost all reason with every thrust he made into you. Through your lidded eyes and tears- or maybe it was sweat as you felt drenched now, you looked at him to see where you could put your arms.

Hans was swearing to himself, mainly in German. Some words you couldn’t catch as you never heard him curse this much before. His own sweat was dripping onto you as he moved, and you noticed how he was stuttering in his thrusting, the clinking of his loose belt buckle hitting against you becoming more erratic. It was obvious he was doing his best to hold out longer.

You then noticed how his tie had been slightly touching your body throughout the whole ordeal. It didn’t matter that you hadn’t noticed prior, you noticed it now. You used both of your hands to grab at it and pull him closer. He didn’t fight back, and it ended up pushing your legs farther back towards you, allowing him to pound just a bit farther into you.

Still holding onto his tie with one hand, you used your other to hold onto his upper back and rested your face in the crook of his neck.

“You look like you’re close to finishing.” You teased as you bit on his neck.

He scoffed, “You don’t look any better than me.”

That, you couldn’t argue as he didn’t relent in this close position. It didn’t matter how sore and cramped your body had started to become when lying down in this position; you wanted to be in it for as long as you could. Which really wasn’t that much longer, much to your dismay. The heat that had been pooling inside you was threatening to spill at any given moment.

“Hans-” Your voice was desperate, incoherent babbling leaving through your panting. “Bitte- please-”

“Das machst du gut.” He moaned.

“Please, "You clutched at his shoulder.

“So eng. So heiß.”

“I’m going to-”

“Ja,” You heard him say against your neck. “Ich auch- Ich komme gleich. Kommen.”

With that, Hans gave one last thrust and you let yourself release, crying out in relief. He grunted and moaned against your skin. You moved lightly against him as you went through your climax. You felt him throb inside you, and you felt him relaxing his body onto yours, his clothes warming up your already warm skin. He rubbed your legs, gave you soft kisses on your skin, and you heard more praise coming from him.

“Du hast dich selbst übertroffen.”

“Don’t praise me anymore.” You breathed, letting go of his tie. “If you do, we’ll be here all night.”

He moved his head to look at you. “This is a problem how?”

You lightly pushed his head away and rolled your eyes, causing him to laugh.

“I don’t care how good you are at it; there’s no way you could stay in the same position.”

“I could sit down in my chair.” He suggested. You were sure part of him was serious. And you were sure part of you was considering it.

Sadly, you had to fight it down as you really did begin to feel exhaustion hit you fast, as everything from the day was starting to weigh down on you. He could see that and was starting to pull himself out. You stopped him.

“Wait- Just wait a moment, please?” You knew you needed to have a moment to get yourself back together mentally.

He stopped moving his hips, letting himself be inside you. With ease, he lifted you off the desk and walked around to his chair. You clutched onto him. It didn’t even cross your mind before if he was able to carry anyone. But his grip felt secure. Once he sat down into his chair carefully, you ease into him, letting out a tired sigh. He rubbed your back, soothing your body from how much it was banging against the desk. You did your best to wake up a bit more and to soon get off him. However, you had a flash of one last act that you had wanted to.

Remembering where he had placed his handkerchief, you lifted your head up and reached into his breast pocket. Watching you get it out; you looked at Hans’s lips. Seeing that the blood was still a bit moist, due to the sweat keeping it that way, you began to wipe it off.

You had expected him to make a remark or jab at you doing this, especially how you had tried to clean it prior. Instead, he calmly breathed and leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. The stillness within the room being undisturbed by either of you.

Even if you weren’t in your own bed, it normally wouldn’t take you long before you fall asleep. But considering the news report of a robbery that happened downtown occurred only a few hours ago, you couldn’t help but be awake for a bit longer.

See, you had done your best to live a stable and typical life. You worked, hung out with friends and family, did your due diligence to be an ordinary citizen. However, truly living a stable, typical life would be near impossible when you had begun dating a man named Hans Gruber.

This was not to say that the two of you were starting to get on the rocks, no, at least not in the way that could be expected. There was passion, intimacy, care, pure infatuation with one another; the time spent, how little there was as he was always away on business, could not have been more perfect.

Therein lies the problem though. What would make your life and relationship unstable or atypical. His business. His line of profession, as some could lightly call it, was being a criminal.

It should be obvious to note that this was something you weren’t made aware of when the two of you began dating. Even when things progressed, and boy did they progress, you still had been kept in the dark. You could come up with several reasons why he hadn’t told you. Maybe he liked the idea of keeping it a facade going that he was a perfect law-abiding citizen with you. Maybe he just wanted to keep his work life separated from his personal life.

Whatever the case may be, you weren’t stupid.

It was some time, a long enough time at the very least, within the relationship that you’d begin to pick up the patterns. The lavish lifestyle, the expensive gifts, the long periods of time where he was gone. You’d begun to think he was secretly married. In many ways, that kind of double life would’ve been much more manageable to address, preferable, and in some ways rational. It’s a common occurrence that could’ve happened to anybody.

Once Hans started to return some nights looking a little more ragged and worse for wear than his usual, kept up appearance, combined with the coincidence of a news report playing about a recent robbery that occurred in your area earlier that day, or hearing from the grapevine of a major robbery occurring in another country that matched up with his long periods of absences, you got suspicious. Especially when some of the gifts that he brought back from said trips were just a tad bit too close to matching the descriptions of the stolen products from those robberies.

You had done your best to ignore these patterns. After all, some of them would occur with enough time in between each event that maybe it really could’ve been written off as a coincidence. Just bad timing is all. But once you had begun noting that some of the robberies would end in gunfire and casualties, it gave you a cause for concern.

This recent robbery was one of those times. Masked, unidentifiable men robbed one of those high-end jewelry stores, holding the employees and whatever straggler patrons were there as quick hostages. Police were quick to arrive on scene as the civilians managed to get out. Shots were fired, as well as a reported high speed car chase, which there had been footage of. The cops managed to get a few good hits in with their bullets- risk of civilian casualties on the police’s end be damned you guessed- as well as ramming the vehicles a few times. But the cars were unrecognizable, with the plates covered, and they managed to evade the cops through the major traffic.

Throughout the whole live reporting of it, you had been on edge. You’d come to stay over at his place, with him explaining a few weeks prior that he would be able to have a “long needed break from work”, so you wanted to be there the first chance that you got. Already having a key to his place, it wasn’t hard to get in and lounge about with the TV on. But as the news report ended, you wondered how much of a good idea it was that you were there. With how your suspicions kept piling up, it was hard to kid yourself at this point.

Still, in your attempts to feign ignorance, you’d figure you just try to fall asleep before he got back home, playing it off that you had gotten tired from your own work and waiting that you couldn’t stay awake. You wouldn’t have to face the direct aftermath of what happened the night prior. Living your life with him in that false narrative, assuming he was always at the wrong place at the wrong time, felt easier.

You finally felt yourself begin to get into the stages of falling asleep, your eyes fluttering a bit and your breathing slowing down. But before you could finally say goodnight to today, your ears caught the distinct sounds of Hans’s front door being opened and closed. Normally, whenever you were sleeping and he’d come back, he’d take much greater care of being quieter for you. He was a graceful gentleman like that. This, however, was different. It sounded rushed with how quickly the door nearly slammed shut. It was then followed by a pair of quick footsteps, which while they weren’t coming to the bedroom, were walking around the house, opening another door.

You were more awake now, slightly sitting up, straining to listen for any more noise. Since it was quiet, with no white noise in the background, you could hear the muffled and hushed voice of a man cursing in what you recognized to be German.

You breathed a sigh of relief, instantly recognizing the voice to be Hans. But the relief was short lived as suddenly the question of why he sounded more erratic and unusual in his movements entered your mind. You didn’t know if you wanted to check just yet. You laid back down for a moment and waited. Normally, when he came back late at night and you were asleep, or at the very least resting in his bed, it would take less than five minutes for him to come into the room, get dressed into more comfortable attire and climb into bed with you, careful to not stir you awake but would whisper sweet nothings as he held you and joined you in sleeping. It wasn’t like he was always strict in keeping to this schedule, but it happened at a regular occurrence, especially after longer trips, so you expected him to do the same thing tonight.

Five minutes, or what you could assume to be five minutes, had passed and yet, still no Hans. The footsteps had stopped not long after you heard them, no other noise coming from outside of the bedroom. Now, your concern was greater. But you still weren’t sure if you wanted to satisfy your curiosity about what was going on. You just wanted to go try to get yourself back to bed and pretend that you had been asleep the entire time. That you had been just dreaming for the last few minutes. You’d wake up, greet Hans in the morning, and spend the rest of the weekend together.

A major part of you would love to keep living in a state of ignorance.

But a tiny part of you knew that it couldn’t be that way, not after tonight. You weren’t stupid.

You took a deep breath and sat up. Trying to prepare yourself to step outside. Which… you didn’t even know how to.

How would anyone even prepare themselves for a situation like this? “Hey, I’m so glad you’re back! Have you been committing armed robberies?” What a way with words. And even then, what would his reaction be to the accusation? Would he try to keep the charade going, lying to your face? Would he try to weave complicated explanations on how you misunderstood the whole situation? Or would it get dangerous? Would he decide that he didn’t want to risk his secret getting out, so he’d snuff you right then and there?

The thought of an extreme and violent scenario going down made you more awake, your heart racing. Even if you’d like to believe that you could take him in a fight, being that there were no weapons on him- which that likelihood was low-you were still greatly terrified of that outcome. You hadn’t considered it could possibly get violent. Or maybe you never wanted to. Even though the armed robberies had ended in casualties sometimes, you tried to think that maybe he would never- could never- hurt you. But you really couldn’t count on that now. If he truly was part of those violent crimes, neglecting that detail once confronting him could cost you your life.

And even if there would be no violence today, even if he admitted to the true nature of his job… What would you do?

You’ve put off even the idea of confronting him so much that you didn’t consider what your initial reaction could be. When your suspicions began you were scared and worried. And the idea of him keeping it a secret, it angered you of course. But which emotion would take over more? And more importantly…

What would this do to your relationship?

Maybe that shouldn’t be important to you, all things considered. It should be easy for you; If he had been committing acts of robbery and was a criminal and told you so, then you should leave. Get the hell out of dodge before anything bad happens to you. End what you had with him. You shouldn’t have to think twice about it.

And yet you did. Even before tonight. You staying with him even despite your suspicions confirmed all that much on how, deep down inside, you thought twice about it. Often.

It made you grimace, being selfish in a way. Here was a likely- no- dangerous man, surely to be wanted in several different countries for breaking several different kinds of laws. And here you were, worried about breaking both his heart and your own. It was even more pathetic to you that you were worried about hurting him. He had been basically hurting you with his lies and deceit at this point, what should it matter now?

But that was the problem. It did matter to you. It mattered that you didn’t want to hurt him for the same reason as to why you didn’t just break it off with him when you had stronger confirmations of his criminal activity.

You were in love with him.

You let out a shaky breath and finally got up from the bed. Whatever happened tonight, however you chose to handle the situation, or how he reacted to this confrontation, would be life altering. You only hoped it wouldn’t be life ending.

Quietly making your way to the door, you lightly pressed your ear against it to see if you could make out anything else. You could ever so faintly hear the movements of him, nothing concrete to make out what he was doing. He really seemed like he was doing his best to keep quiet now.

Turning the doorknob and opening it slowly to make sure it didn’t creak; you could now hear him just a bit better. He seemed to be taking sharp inhales, with mutterings of German that you could vaguely understand to be swears. You did your best to pump up your adrenaline and mentality to be prepared for anything, as this wasn’t typical behavior for him. At least the behavior he was willing to show you.

Making your way through the hall as quietly as you could, and peeking around the corner to where the noises had been coming from, a small light had been turned on over the dining room, where you could see Hans with his head hunched over as he looked at his left arm, using tweezers to pluck what had seemed to be shards of glass.

Numbly, your first thought was figuring that it must’ve been from when the cops had either been shooting at them from the store or when they kept smashing into the vehicles. But you snapped out of it, immediately taking in that his white dress shirt had more spatters of blood, with one being particularly huge and deep with a crimson stain on his right shoulder. The idea of him being shot worried you for a moment.

You had seen his body and seen the scars that had covered it. Early in the relationship you decided not to ask about it, thinking that it would’ve been a difficult subject to bring up. As it progressed further with your suspicions growing, you started to question their sources in your mind. And now, it seemed you had confirmation as to where they came from.

Your worry suddenly switched to an intense fear, as you must’ve let out a noise upon seeing his wound from where you were standing. As Hans suddenly looked up from what he was doing, right to your direction, and noticed you right away.

Neither of you said anything, as you kept eye contact with each other. The deafening silence overtaking the air between you two. You really didn’t know what to say, or what to do. And it seemed like, maybe for once in Hans’s life, he hadn’t had the words or actions either. You could tell his brain was moving a mile a minute, however. Perhaps coming up with what to say. Or he was waiting for you to make the move first, and to react appropriately. Whatever appropriate meant at this time.

And you really didn’t know what was appropriate. Sure, maybe laying into him would be something reasonable. Or quickly making your escape, hoping you’d be faster than him in his current state. But as you looked at him, him being slightly pale, sweating, covered in blood and serious wounds, your heart kept tugging at what you really wanted to do at that moment.

And so, you did.

Rounding the corner, in careful movements as if you were approaching a cornered, wounded animal, you walked over to where he sat. His eyes never left you as you approached him. Seeing a bloody rag on the table, you picked it up and decided to rinse it out as best as you could with cold water in the sink nearby. The soaked-up blood leaving the rag, onto your hands, traveling down the sink.

“Liebchen-”

“Don’t -” You cut him off, shutting your eyes for a moment as you gathered yourself. “Don’t say anything. If you do, common sense might come back to me and I’ll walk out of here.”

And with that, he didn’t say anything else. You wrung out the rag and walked back over to where he was. He still stared at you, waiting to see what you had planned to do. You looked down at his arm, with it still having a good amount of glass in it. Carefully, you pulled open the chair and sat down. Maneuvering the small lamp light, he brought over onto the table, likely not wanting too many bright lights on in the house, you got a better look at it. The marks left behind from the previous shards of glass, as well as the ones currently in him, didn’t seem to cut in too deep. Their scars would fade over time.

You picked up the tweezers and started to pluck the shards out. Out of reaction his hand moved as he grimaced. You used your free hand to hold his arm down in place, squeezing it down onto the table firmly. Seeing the blood seep out of his skin made you feel a bit nauseous, but you had to hold it in.

You tried not to think about how he had more than likely caused greater wounds than that.

It didn’t take long before the rest of the glass was out. You looked at the table, noting a first aid kid that was covered in a bit of blood, as well as a rubbing alcohol bottle. That’s probably what he had been searching for earlier, you thought to yourself. You placed the tweezers down and took it, grabbing the rag and dousing some onto it. You wiped off his arm.

Once you were done, the rag returning to its bloody form, you got back up to rinse it out once more. You could feel Hans’s eyes follow you but said nothing. Coming back to the table he was covering up his arm with bandages and wrapping it in a tight manner, like he’d done this before. He probably had.

Studying him, with the small light aiding you, you could see how unkempt he was. You hadn’t noticed sitting on one of the chairs was his suit jacket, which looked torn up from what you could see. His hair had been disheveled with even his face being bruised up a bit. You had to fight off the thoughts in your mind of you wanting to kiss them better. It didn’t matter that concern overtook you, you were still mad at him, and didn’t want him to give any more care than he deserved.

But then again, helping to clean his wounds was a clear gesture of intimacy and care. And maybe it was already more than he deserved.

Once he was done, you went to his ride side, where the bigger blood spot was at. You said nothing as you placed down the rag and began to unbutton his dress shirt.

“I’m going to clean your other arm now.” Your voice was low, and had a touch of gentleness, despite your best efforts. You helped him get his arm out of the shirt, very clearly being a struggle for him.

Once it was out, you could see how bad the wound had been. Using the light to point towards his shoulder, the light went right through the wound. You figured either the bullet had gone clean through, or he, or whoever else was with him, had enough time to get the bullet out. Whatever the case, you still stood up so you could have a better angle on it. You dragged the med kit over to you closer, reaching in for the contents that were of a sewing needle and some thread. Honestly, you had no experience when it came to fixing severe wounds like this. You were even surprised at yourself that you hadn’t even fainted at the sight of the wound. But you did have little experience in sewing up old stuffed animals when you were younger. It was better than nothing.

Taking the rag and pouring more alcohol onto it, you made work into cleaning the wound, not giving Hans a heads up. He let out more curses and banged his free arm onto the table. It caused you to flinch, which from the corner of his eye he noticed.

“I apologize-” He began.

“What did I say?” You looked at him.

For a moment you could see a flash of him having a look of hurt. Which nearly made you feel guilty at yourself, but you shook it off mentally. His face went back to that composed look he always had on, and he looked forward again. You hesitated, wanting to say something else, but went back to cleaning his wound.

After doing the best that you could, you head back to the sink to rinse off what was hopefully the last of the blood cleaning, wringing it out and coming back to him. You placed it down and grabbed the thread and needle. This time, Hans had more prep time to understand what was coming next and placed the rag into his mouth to keep him from grimacing even louder than he had before.

Sewing up a bullet wound hold was nothing like sewing up a broken stuffed bear. It was harder to poke into flesh, and stuffed bears didn’t let out grunts of pain every time you made a stitch. You instantly wanted to reassure him that the pain was temporary, to soothe him in any way you could, but you had to hold your tongue. It may have been childish, but you felt that in comparison to what he had been doing, he was getting off easy.

With the back side of his shoulder done, you adjusted him to face you more as you worked on the front, this time opting to sit down to get on better eye level. He watched you as you made haste to sew up the front. Not so much for his comfort but for yourself as you didn’t want to see the bruises that were on the front of his body, and how it seemed a bit hard for him to breathe.

You briefly wondered how he would’ve explained these fresh wounds had you not been awake at this time.

Once the last stitch was in, you reached over to place the needle back into the box and reached for some bandages and wrappings. Placing the bandages, you had one hand to hold them in place as you were going to use your free hand to begin to wrap it up. But Hans placed his hands over yours. You looked at him for a moment. His eyes conveyed that softness that you had been used to.

You had to force yourself to look away and pull your hand from under him. His hand on the bandage still stood in place. You grabbed another bandage to place on the back side of the wound. Once you started to wrap it up, he moved his hand as did you, placing more on his shoulder to help keep the wrapping in place. Once you felt that it was secure, you held it down to grab some tape on the table.

Placing it and smoothing it down, your hand was still on his shoulder, as you stared through his patched-up shoulder. Before you could stop yourself, you felt your head resting on it and closed your eyes. You could hear his breathing hitch. And carefully, he placed his hand on your head, giving gentle strokes of your hair.

“I’m not stupid.” You said in a quiet voice.

His movements stopped for a moment, but continued, and spoke in an even quieter voice than your own.

“I know you’re not.”

Sinclair Bryant always made it part of his routine to walk around the bustling sidewalks and admire the decor during this time of year. The lights that hung from the buildings were always so magnificent to look at. It dazzled the eyes, especially his. Relatively, the concepts of Christmas lights have stayed the same, to illuminate the ornaments on the trees. While it was a trend that started in Germany, North America evolved the concept to hanging lights on the outside of buildings during The Great Depression. This made sense to him of course, adding light into someone’s life during a hard time in the literal sense.

He looked at the intricate sets that were strung along the rows of shops, each one decorated to the brim. He noted a man and a woman walking out of one store. The man nudged the woman to look up at the entrance they were at. Sinclair looked upwards as well. What they had searched for was a mistletoe. The man started laughing as she shoved his face with a smile. He quickly wrapped his arm around her shoulder and they left.

‘What a lovely couple.’ Sinclair thought.

Followed by, ‘Or intimate siblings.’

He felt instant shame at the accompanied emotion of disgust that came with the second thought. He mentally shook his head, as he took a seat nearby one of the stores. A bakery that smelled of gingerbread and peppermint. Staples in the holiday season.

He knew it wasn’t his fault that his mind went to that. Therapy wasn’t a new concept, gaining popularity and having a proper goal in mind after the first World War in order to treat the men that were dubbed as ‘shell-shocked’. It wasn’t an iron out practice, containing many problematic solutions to treat those who were mentally ill. But in this day in age, despite therapy being somewhat of a taboo subject, the treatment and knowledge was improving. It was really quite something to study and follow up with through academic journals and research papers. His counselor was teaching him how his automatic responses were due to trauma of what occurred between Natalie and her brother.

He found it odd at times. He didn’t behave like those who had been diagnosed with any sort of trauma. Not like the shell-shocked veterans who froze and became erratic when hearing fireworks. Or those who had been severely harmed as children and developed odd personality traits. But his counselor described it as trauma nonetheless. Even if he himself wasn’t keen to label it as such.

The brain was an interesting organ though, Sinclair had to admit. It was able to react involuntarily to cues around the person. Even if the person did not want to react in that way. Take for example the survival responses of fight or flight. If a person wants to run and hide from a deadly situation, there’s a chance the body will force them to start punching or kicking in any way to defend themselves. Or, maybe the person wants to defend themselves from what they are encountering, but their body makes them leave the situation as fast as possible by running in the opposite direction.

Sinclair then thought of the response no one seemed to talk about that could also have the chance of occurring when they weren’t prepared. That being-

The sound of the chair creaking across from him and the visual of a box being placed in front of him caught his attention.

Sinclair blinked, and as he looked up, he froze. His mind a complete blank.

----

You stood in line at the bakery you had placed an order at. Months ago.

Months ago. In advance. Due to the high end ingredients that were needed for the cake. And because everything had to be perfectly planned out. To the routine you had. It was difficult to explain to others how if there was a change of plans to what you had expected, it brought you a great deal of distress. The best you could describe the feeling was as if a person was wearing an outfit that was slightly too tight. You would be feeling off throughout the entire day, being stuck on how something was wrong.

Adaptability to spontaneity was a concept you had so desperately tried to embrace as you got older. Something expected of others. No one seemed to understand or were considerate to how difficult it could be for you.

That was evident, seeing that now, you were single again.

The cake you had ordered was for your partner. You figured it to be the perfect surprise, but not in a way that was too surprising. It was the right flavor, the right size, everything your partner normally loved in a sweet cake. Now, it seemed like it was going to be wasted. It was only a month ago that your partner decided to end things.

For the reasons you had figured. No room for spontaneity; your mannerisms too ‘odd’. Too much, and at the same time, not enough.

Despite having an intense focus and passion on wanting everything to be a certain way, it wasn’t always apparent on your face, the emotions you showed. That was another challenge you had identified. It wasn’t like you didn’t get outwardly emotional at things. It was often things that maybe others wouldn’t get so emotional at. And the things that you should’ve been emotional at, you just weren’t. You certainly weren’t going to dial it up for show. It never felt genuine. So, if your face was blank, as it often was, so be it.

Of course, the consequences were that people found you rude. Emotionless. A robot. A likely conclusion your partner ended up coming to, despite the anniversary that was supposed to be held.

It stung.

You wanted to be like others. So much. Had desperately tried to follow the fold and pretend as a young kid that you were ‘normal’. It was tiring. By accepting who you were as an adult, it may have saved you that tiredness, but it would mean you would experience events such as this. Being alone in line as you picked up the box, not giving a thank you as you mindlessly started to walk to the entrance. You studied the outside, accepting the spontaneity of the world as the weather had been not as all as the weatherman described it that morning.

As you looked outside at the snowy weather, your eyes landed on a man sitting at one of the tables placed outside the bakery. You could estimate he had been sitting there for some time, snowflakes beginning to build upon themselves on his shoulder and hair.

Others who met you would not describe you as a people person. In reality, you loved to watch people. Observe their expressions. Maybe, in some sense, you were jealous of the way people could convey their emotions properly.

For the man that sat alone, he looked melancholic.

You felt it was relatable.

Normally, you would only think about the man's expression as you went home, going on about your day. But, seeing that today, and the past weeks had not gone according to your plans, you had a sudden spark in your mind.

The upcoming new year was a time for resolutions, a tradition that many took part in, and would fall flat not only two months into the new year. You thought about the words your partner had said, how you should’ve gone out of your way more. To do things that showed you gave a damn.

You knew your partner was wrong. You cared so much. About a lot, in fact.

But there was merit to what was said, even if it hurt.

You had to try spontaneity. Even if you were to never speak to this man again, even if things didn’t go how you had planned in your mind, you had to try. The man’s melancholic look matched the feeling you had in your heart. And if you felt that if it were you, you would’ve wanted someone to show that they cared. That they understood.

Besides, it was the holiday season after all.

You asked the person who handed you the cake if there were any forks, which you got and gladly tipped. You took a deep breath, and walked out.

Cake was a good icebreaker, right? And you didn’t want it to go to waste. You could explain that to him. Besides, it wasn’t like you were some stranger that planned to hand him a homemade cake. Clearly, the label showed it came right from the bakery.

Pulling the chair out, you sat across from him and placed the box on the table. It caused him to look up at you. Instantaneously, you knew he was the type of man that was able to convey anything and everything he felt just in his eyes alone. The surprise replaced the mood he had been feeling before. But he wasn’t giving any kind of look in his eyes that indicated you weren’t welcomed in his own space he had within the public’s space.

Though, you should’ve considered his own space before invading it. However, he found his voice after a moment of being frozen in place.

“Hello. I’m sorry, am I taking your spot? I didn’t mean to, I love the smell of bakeries and wanted to sit for a moment. Peppermint is such a potent smell that really signifies it’s December.”

His voice was not at all what you were expecting it to sound like. It was deeper than you had guessed.

It was nice.

In any event, you felt ambivalent to the spot he was referring to. Some places in public you found to be too much, especially during the holiday season. It was overwhelming to the senses, but it was something you knew you could hardly avoid.

You figured it was best to be blunt with your intentions.

“You looked miserable.” You stated.

…Maybe not that blunt. Still, you continued.

“I have this cake that isn’t going to be used for what I had planned it for. Would you like to split it?”

You felt yourself cringe on the inside as you spoke. The first time you had been open in the way people expected you to, and you realized that as you spoke to him, this wasn’t at all the way you had seen others be open. This was a complete stranger for God’s sake. You never liked people invading your personal space without your say so, what the hell-

“What flavor?”

His voice held curiosity and excitement. It was in contrast to your own voice, which hardly had any emotion inflicted in it. Again, not something you could’ve helped. Unless you were really emotional.

“Chocolate peppermint cake? It’s Belgian.” You didn’t care for the texture of the cake, but you knew your partner loved it. And you were willing to suck it up, ordering it.

“Oh Belgian is such a rich flavor. You know it’s often complimented best with a desert wine like Muscat. Some even prefer whiskey with it. Of course, it’s too early to drink- and not safe either! Many of the streets have not been salted yet.”

You stared at him. Something was telling you this was not a normal response to a stranger either. At least, not one you had ever seen.

He continued, “So espressos are the next best drink to accompany chocolate. There’s a wonderful coffee shop nearby.”

He suddenly got up, with energy and excitement.

“I’ll pay, it’s a wonderful combination. If we don’t want to spoil our appetites by eating dessert right away, they have sandwiches too.”

You anticipated a lot of reactions. Him inviting a complete stranger to an impromptu lunch was not one of them.

----

Sinclair’s mind and topic of conversation was on the location you and him were eating at.

This coffee shop he regularly went to imported all sorts of coffee beans from around the world, so it was always busy. Especially now for the holidays, due to them serving hot chocolate, a limited time item. Sinclair wished it was all year round, but there was a special feeling of something being brief. Even if it was to generate sales. Which, he understood perfectly.

He started to explain the marketing strategy that this coffee shop, and many other business practices had, until he noticed your demeanor. You were stiff, in your body and facial expression. You hardly looked him in the eyes.

He felt discouraged.

While it happened from time to time before the incident, afterwards when his marriage with Natalie was really dwindling, she made it much more clear in how she felt about him. Despite his best efforts to give it another shot, even after all that had happened, she didn’t want to hide anything else. His quirks he had, his ramblings. She always joked that he talked too much. That his sudden wave of knowledge to others was overbearing, intimidating, and could make others like herself feel stupid. It was a joke she told one too many times. It was through this way of communication that he learned it was her way of telling Sinclair she didn’t like it when he talked like this. The truth hidden among a joke; a common way to express your real opinions about something. After what happened, she made it much more obviously not a joke.

It hurt him a lot. But he had to recognize that not many people shared the excitement he had for the world. The observations he made in things and people. He was inconsiderate like that, his counselor told him so.

Well- not in a mean way. That wouldn’t be professional. He just had to understand that people were different from him. Especially their thought process, and he needed to be more mindful of that.

“I apologize. I know I can go on forever. It’s rude of me to not let you have a moment to speak.”

You blinked, and looked at him.

“No, it’s not that. I,” You faltered in your eye contact, searching for the words. “I’m... not the best in places that are loud.”

Sinclair mulled that over for a moment as he studied his surroundings.

It wasn’t the loudest place he had been to. But it was very busy, people chatting amongst themselves either in line or in the seats next to them, creating a constant buzz. Servers called out orders for others to get their coffee and quick meals, while the machinery made loud beeping noises to signal the beverage was done. Not to mention, the holiday music that was playing was a little louder than the patrons. The door jingled as the sounds of the outside world would seep through, becoming clear for a moment. The brief noises of cars honking, snow crunching outside, laughter and singing.

He could see what you meant.

“Would you like to sit in a quieter location? We can get sandwiches and coffee to go- the park nearby has places that allow you to eat. They are very peaceful in their sounds. There’d be enough distance from anything that could be loud.”

You shook your head, your body still tense, but doing it’s best to lower its guard. “It’s something I need to work on. It’s best if I throw myself into it rather than pushing it off.”

Sinclair shrugged. “Not always. I mean, parents will just throw their kid into water and expect them to swim. Sometimes they do, but other times, they end up being shaken up by the whole experience and don’t ever try to swim again for a very long time if at all. You have to do what’s best for you.”

Despite your face not indicating any immediate reaction to what he said, Sinclair noted how your body became looser, your breathing a bit slower. As if you were considering and dissecting his words.

In your silence, Sinclair heard the order number called. He rushed to grab the sandwiches and the coffee. Once sitting down, he waited for you to say something about his comment, or anything else you wanted to talk about. However, you started to eat instead.

He tried to be conscious of the amount of talking he had done, wanting you to have your say when you felt like it. So, he too, ate in silence. Much safer that way, he didn’t want to talk with his mouth full. It also wouldn’t be appropriate.

When he looked down at his food to eat, among his chewing he could see you watching him in his peripheral vision. But when he looked up, you had trouble maintaining eye contact with him, looking anywhere else.

His moment of silence was just that. A moment.

“You know, there’s this neat trick, if you have trouble with eye contact.” Sinclair began.

You looked at him.

“You look at the bridge of their nose, or right between the eyebrows. That way, it would seem like you are staring right at the eyes, but not exactly. You get to keep your focus on their face without the intimidating eye contact.”

You said nothing. You had stopped chewing on your food too, and didn’t even try to take another bite.

Sinclair felt tense.

“Sorry that-” He swallowed his food. “That was unsolicited advice. Rather rude of me.”

Again, no response from you, making Sinclair a little more tense.

“You never have to accept an apology that you don’t want to accept. Don’t feel pressured to. I just wanted to express my regret.”

He coughed.

“And now I’m realizing that the more I talk, the more I add to your discomfort of loud noise. Your body is still stiff after all. I apologize for that too. I will now shut up so I don’t aid in the problem, which I have been doing. I mean, I would like to be part of the solution, if you’ll allow me of course. You were very kind to offer me some cake, and I felt that- I still feel I should return that favor in any way I can. Instead I fear I am making this worse-”

You interrupted him. “Your voice isn’t loud.”

He paused, then sheepishly chuckled.

“Make no mistake, I can get loud. Very emotional too. My voice just happens to be deep.”

“It’s very nice to listen to. Very calming. And you’re very knowledgeable.” You assured.

His cheeks dusted with pink, not hearing that compliment often. In fact, hearing the opposite. From Natalie mostly.

“Thank you.”

“I should apologize.” You sighed. “For invading your space, when I placed the cake down. I know that’s not… typical for people to do. That was really,” You gestured with your hands, not knowing how to express yourself.

“Spontaneous?” He suggested.

You nodded. “I’m not usually like that.”

After that, the two of you sat in silence to finish your sandwiches. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that Sinclair had felt before. At least, that he thought he felt. Maybe it was awkward for you at first but you seemed to be calm around him now.

Once you finished your food, the two of you began to move onto the cake. Sinclair picked up the box, ready to see the sweet treat. Being able to smell the peppermint even without lifting the cardboard lid off. He had tried to limit his consumption of sugar, but he couldn’t help it around this time of year. Not when there was limited time goodness he wanted to get a hold of.

When he opened it and looked inside, he felt a wave of emotions.

On the cake, it read, ‘Happy Anniversary’.

You made a noise of frustration that caused Sinclair to look back up at you. You wringed your wrists together in a frustrated manner.

“Ugh- Yeah- I. I forgot that-” You stuttered your words, not in a form of embarrassment, but in a way that indicated you weren’t happy at the memory of why this was written on the cake.

Sinclair crossed his arms, not in a way of defensiveness but in a way that indicated he was studying you with compassion. He waited until you found the words.

“I was in a relationship, I bought this cake in advance and had them write this out. And things just didn't work out.”

“Why not?” He asked in a gentle tone.

As you shrugged, he noticed the subtle expressions within your face. How your eyes were lost in what was likely the last moment that caused everything to go wrong. Your hands still held together as if it kept you stable. There was the smallest smile that held no joy, your voice indicating regret and self-hate.

“I was too much, and not enough. If that makes sense.”

Sinclair resonated with that. Heavily. He understood what you had meant perfectly. It was how he felt right after things officially ended with Natalie. He often pondered what it was that made him so disagreeable to her. Why she was never upfront about the problems she had with him. And despite getting those answers, it left him no satisfaction. It didn’t quench the curiosity he had.

It likely would never.

He started to learn that there were things that were out of his control. His counselor told him about how getting people to feel a certain way about him was not something doable, nor should it be. It was okay. If he could never wrap his head around why his wife decided to cheat on him with her own brother, and how their marriage ended, he would learn how to adapt to that.

But there were things that his counselor said that he was in control of. And that was his own actions.

And right now, making sure you were understood was the action he needed to take.

“Then, let’s celebrate a new anniversary!”

Your micro expressions faded to one of confusion, furrowing your brows.

“Of what?”

“You said you were not a spontaneous person, right?”

You nodded.

“And I’m to assume that you’ve never done anything like this before? Chatting with a stranger in a shop you have never been to because the area is not your ideal place to be in?”

You nodded again, unsure of where he was going with this.

“Then congratulations! You initiated a conversation with me. You agreed to come with me despite how much you hate places that are loud, being brave enough to stay in the environment- And didn’t you notice?”

He leaned forward, a big heartfelt, genuine smile on his face.

“You’ve been using the trick I told you about.”

You blinked. He had been right. You had not looked away from his face ever since. Him noticing something that others may not have given a second thought to made your face heat up.

“You’re staring at my nose, right? I know, it’s a defining feature I have.”

There was a twinkle in your eyes. The worry you had disappeared at that moment.

“I would say you are getting the hang of being spontaneous.”

He raised his cup. “So, let's toast to the first day of you being more spontaneous than you had been previously.”

You held your drink.

“This would be a lot more fitting if it was a New Years Resolution.” You said.

He waved you off. “People who make those often don’t last long. Really, two months is a miracle.”

You smiled, for the first time in a while. You raised your beverage.

“A toast to…”

He paused. And as he did you recognize the same time he did that the two of you neglected proper introductions.

You held out your hand over the table, saying your name. He instantly took it to shake.

“Sinclair Bryant- Oh my word your hands are cold! Are you okay?”

You shrugged again. “It’s December, darling.” A phrase you had commonly heard from others. You wanted to try it out on him. He didn’t seem to mind that, only your hands.

“We are inside, there’s no reason it should be- you know, cold hands despite being in a warm environment could indicate something more serious. For example, low iron in the body or poor regulation of it. Let's see if your fingertips are blue. That’s a common indicator.”

George burped, and threw his goblet across the room, frustrated.

He didn’t realize how long he had to wait.

It was well into the night when one of his servants informed him that you were out in the middle of the courtyard. That confused and irritated him. It meant he had to leave the comfort of his bed to see if you really were planning to freeze to death out there.

He had long gotten into his own sleepwear, but his robe gave him the warmth needed as he stepped outside, his boots crunching in the snow. It was dark, but the lamps around the courtyard and excess light as much as they flickered, spilled from windows, giving him enough for his eyes to adjust and see you sitting on one of the benches, your back to him.

George walked up beside you, his pulse racing well enough to keep him extra warm.

“I said you can have a bed, not a bench.”

“I’m comfortable here.” You retorted, not looking at him.

“I don’t feel like cleaning up a frozen corpse tomorrow.”

You waved him off. “Get one of your servants to do it then.”

He looked down and realized you had moved over on the bench to allow room for someone else to sit, the snow also removed.

Had you been waiting and wanting him to sit down?

Curious about where this was going, he took his spot next to you. He could feel the growing tension as he watched your every movement. Among that, there was a sort of peacefulness George hadn’t expected. Nor had he been used to it.

It was horrible.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked in a less demanding voice than he was used to.

“Why did you send the children to Marian?”

He didn’t like you ignoring his own question, but he’d figured he would toy with you a bit. You would find out the answer soon enough.

“If they slept in that place, and died from the storm, then my work would’ve been for naught.”

You rolled your eyes. “You already waste the taxes on useless shit.” Once again, you gestured to the statue that was not far from either of you.

George crossed his arms, not wanting to justify to you why he had as many as he did. Certainly not because of what he lacked below, as he was intending for you to find out.

“Then, I am simply a generous man.” He smiled in a condescending manner.

He waited for you to laugh and mock as you normally did whenever he gave himself praise. Instead, you said nothing. The slight wind of the coming storm, lingering in the cold dark sky, being the only sound between the two of you.

He frowned and began to feel impatient, waiting for you to say something.

“I’ll hardly ever think of you as someone generous.”

He scoffed. There it was. But you continued.

“But to ignore the amount of work you have been putting in would be…foolish.”

You looked at him, and George could see how you seemed to struggle internally with the next words you wanted to get out. He was going to make fun of you, but your words stopped him.

“So, thank you.”

George felt a spike of some kind of emotion in his body. Not in his groin. Which he had expected and would’ve been fine with. Somewhere else. Wherever it was, he didn’t know whether he cared for it or not. The genuineness in your voice. Your gratitude for him.

Which you should have for him. Absolutely should. And yet, it wasn’t something he hadn’t expected from you. Truly.

He clutched the fabric on his arms. Now his original plan felt like it couldn’t be executed tonight. Not after that. Damn you. You made it too weird for him. He got up in an instant, causing you to be startled. He promptly turned away to go back inside. It looked like it was going to be another night of him having to pleasure himself. Until he could get in the mood to go after you again. Maybe he could get over it in a few hours and try again.

George managed to get a good distance away from you when he felt a sudden powdery cold texture on the back of his head, causing him to stumble.

He whipped his head around back to you, his eyes wide. Another snowball was ready in your hand as you were standing.

“When someone gives you thanks, you show some gratitude back.”

Despite the demanding words, your voice didn’t match it. You seemed to be… almost playful?

“Give me my deserved gratitude!” You threw the other right into his face, causing him to curse out. He quickly wiped it off, and saw the triumphant smile you had.

“You’ll be lucky to get a chance to survive!” He threatened back, but with no more serious intent than you had. He bent down to grab a handful of snow and managed to land one right on your shoulder.

Despite not having been in any kind of snowball fight before, George was able to translate his skills he had learned in combat to the situation at hand. Which was him being relentless, throwing as many in your direction that he could make as fast as possible.

Based on your mannerisms, you weren’t taking the snowball fight too seriously, but your skills of making quick maneuvers and attacks also translated. And with it being darker, you would’ve been able to hide behind the decor and plants.

That was, if you had known the layout properly. George knew it better. When you hid from him, trying to get a better advantage point, he was able to stealthily make his way over to you, using his darker clothing to be mistaken for the shadows of the courtyard. He had followed where your tracks were, and saw your figure.

In the quickest move he had ever pulled, he pounced on you like he was a predator catching his prey.

He may as well have been.

You let out a yelp in surprise. The snow crunching beneath the both of you. Quickly, the two of you tumbled around in the cold weather.

Straddling on top of you, he grabbed a fistful of snow with both hands and shoved it right onto your face. Sputtering, you attempted to push his hands away. This only caused him to be able to pin your wrists on either side of your head.

“Do you yield?” He asked in a taunting manner, a grin plastered on his face.

“Yes-yes I yield, I yield!”

There had been no fear, anger, or any sort of defeat in your voice. Instead, there was laughter. Anyone could see that you had enjoyed the short fight between the two of you.

It caused George’s mind to race. Under typical circumstances, he would not have cared whether his target of his advances were receptive to him or not. Many accepted only for money, others to save their own skin. Regardless of the reason, he would win in the end and take what he wanted.

But the thought, the very idea that maybe, there was a part of you even if it was ever so small, that you wanted him as well…

It filled him with something. Excitement and arousal, of course. But something else he couldn’t pinpoint. But he knew if he tried to, he would gross himself out enough to forgo executing his plan tonight.

It was at this point he had been silent and staring at you long enough for you to merely stare back at him, right into his eyes. He briefly wondered if you thought that he was actually going to kill you. But upon looking into your eyes, from the dim lighting and adjustment to the dark night, there was no fear from you. Certainly confusion, but no fear. Your breathing was quiet, as if you were forcing yourself to be. But George could swear it was the kind of shallow breathing others had when in this position of being underneath him.

While his eyes were kept to yours, he slightly moved his hand, his thumb ever so slowly but firmly pressed down on the spot he knew you had your wound on your palm. In the stillness, he could see you squirm in the smallest way, your breathing hitching a bit.

That was his opening. The stars finally aligned on Christmas night.

And so he took that chance.

----

Whatever regrets you felt you were going to have in the morning, or within the next couple of hours. Hell, maybe immediately right after it was over, you were not at all concerned as you should’ve been.

After a tense moment of silence between the two of you, the Sheriff made a dive right to your lips. As you had thought about in your perverted fantasies, he was not at all gentle. Using teeth and tongue to force himself into your mouth, the taste of whatever meat and mead he had earlier was very apparent. If you were in a reasonable state of mind at all, it would’ve revolted you and led you to push him off and start beating him into nothing and turn the snow into a deep red.

Instead, you had wriggled his hands off of your wrists and grabbed at his mop of hair to keep him in place as you kissed him back.

He wasted no time in getting his body right up against you. You were certain if given the chance, he would have you in that moment. As much as the thought sent sparks through your body, you really weren’t looking to freeze your ass off that night.

What was a battle of rolling around in the snow to get the advantage on the other, to making haste to the Sheriff’s chamber, and finally continuing to fight as a form of some sick foreplay, landed both of you on his bed, your coats discarded somewhere on the floor. You on top of him as his back was against the headboard, his grip firm on your waist as he bit hard at your throat. You yanked at his hair in retaliation.

It surprised you he wasn’t fighting to be on top, with how much he had been fighting for it during your duel. In combination with his overall nature of wanting to have the upper hand in any scenario.

Which, in a sense, he did, as you felt the cool blade of a dagger go underneath your clothing. It wasn’t pressing forcefully on your skin, but you felt him use another hand to pull at the fabric as if he was planning to cut through it. Instead of being normal in undressing you.

You should’ve figured.

You let out a huff. “Don’t you tear at my-”

Too late.

As the fabric ripped, you felt him chuckle against your collarbone. Even with you grabbing the dagger out of his hand, stabbing it into the headboard right by his throat, your forearm pressing against his jugular, that didn’t stop him from using his hands to rip your clothing even more.

His hands were feverishly roaming your body, as if he had been waiting for this moment. You realized it was the first time your skin had contact with his own- if you didn’t count him headbutting you or biting right into your neck that time. Shuddering and arching into his warm touch, you ground yourself into his hips. His smile grew wider as he watched you.

“Get that look off of your face, you creep.” You did your best to pull the dagger through the wood, closer to his neck, threatening what would happen if he didn’t.

He only continued to eye you as he lowered his hands past any more clothing to cup your ass and bring you closer to him. His fingernails digging painfully into your skin. You should’ve felt even the slightest bit of shame for enjoying the pain as much as you did. Instead, it encouraged you to get what was now rags off of your body, along with getting his stupidly expensive clothes off too.

You shouldered off what covered your upper body, and got your legs to be free of cloth. Then, you rushed your hands to undo his codpiece.

With there being no restraints made by you, he went back to marking you with his mouth. He bit at the previous wound which had healed up decently, unless he decided to open the wound. Either way, you couldn’t suppress your moan at that.

He dragged his tongue up your neck and to your earlobe, speaking as low as he did in the chapel.

“You liked it when I bit into you then, didn’t you?”

With one hand you shoved his face back while keeping your hand on his mouth to shut him up properly, while you tried to undo him with the other hand.

“You could make yourself useful and start taking off your own clothes.”

The Sheriff responded by biting at your hand, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to remind you how easy it would be for him if he so desired it. Like any mature adult in this situation, you pushed his head back against the board once more, causing him to let go.

“You’re no fun.” He complained, but was making his way to lift up his shirt in a hurry. In reality, he never experienced more excitement being with someone in bed.

You managed to get off his codpiece and began to pull down his pants.

You weren’t sure whether to be repulsed by how quickly he had gotten hard or be aroused by it. As you thought about it, that could sum up your feelings about him: being repulsed and aroused.

Kicking off his pants, he grabbed back at your hips and dragged you against his dick. You gasped at the new sensation.

“Do I seem lacking to you, pest?”

You didn’t hesitate to punch him in the stomach.

Somehow, it only made him harder.

“You’re disgusting.” The want in your voice was not at all concealed by any fake repulsion you tried to have.

“And you’re not?” He questioned as he eyed you down again, licking his lips. “Your body’s betraying you.”

Damn him to Hell, he was right.

He wasted no time in lifting you up and entering you, not giving you any sort of preparation or even a verbal warning. You moaned in both pain and pleasure, all the while the Sheriff let out a groan filled with satisfaction and relief.

As an act of revenge, you didn’t give him a moment to fully comprehend that he was inside of you, and started to move up and down once you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back. He joined you and started to thrust. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t gentle.

The initial pain subsided as your panting matched your movements, the heat quickly building up inside of you. He gripped at your hips so tight, you were sure he must’ve drawn blood. And with how rough he was going, you were certain there was going to be blood there too. But you weren’t focused on that. Neither was he as he watched you with darkened eyes once you got into a rhythmic motion.

Now that you were here, you would be an idiot if you hadn’t considered that this was his plan for who knows how long. His eagerness was apparent when you had reciprocated the kiss, his eyes having a mischievous glint when the two of you were making your way through the halls. His hand having a tight grip on you when you both barged into his room, as if to make sure you weren’t going anywhere.

It was all too obvious. Yet you found yourself unable to care or call him out on it.

Your eyes closed as you allowed yourself to gradually let go of the shame you had felt over the past weeks. Your moans becoming more frequent and louder, the bed’s consistent creaking becoming distant in your ears as you were now only focused on the noises he was letting out and what he was doing to your body.

You couldn’t see how he stared at your lips, wanting to kiss them again. It was unlike him. Rarely did he ever kiss during sex, if at all. He mainly used it as the starting act to cement to the other what was going to occur. But now the urge was there, and it was making him feel off. Had he not wanted to hear your moaning or look at your expressions, he would’ve shoved your face down in the pillows to fight off those urges. His next best solution to compensate for the problem was to pound into your harder as he let out curses and phrases that you think weren’t even written in the Bible.

You leaned forward into his shoulder, balling up your hands into fists and hit his chest while simultaneously biting at his skin.

“You’re a ruthless tyrant.” You said through your teeth.

The Sheriff used one hand to grab at your jaw and reposition you back to where he could look at you. You felt he was going to leave a bruise.

“I do my best, peasant.”

“I hate you.” You managed to get out between grunts, looking at him.

He stared back at you with those stupid pretty brown eyes. “The feeling’s mutual.”

You shut your eyes again, not wanting to look at his smug face anymore. Yet you didn’t attempt to push his hand away from your jaw.

You felt yourself becoming more undone as your movements were starting to get more frantic, as was his. He was going on about how he should’ve killed you the moment he had the chance to. Not before torturing you of course. And the various ways he would have. And still could. And in fact how he was going to the next day when he had his energy and was done using you.

All these threats that would normally worry or frighten you, didn’t. Much to your disgust with yourself it was only getting you closer to finishing, wanting to hear more from his deep yet soothing voice.

“-I’ll see you squirm underneath me as I dig a spoon right into your chest and pull your heart out-”

To you it was all incoherent ramblings of a man who you claimed to hate. Yet despite that, you weren’t sure if you were being honest with yourself and to him. Of course, you weren’t going to let him know that.

But a sort of inkling spilled out of you. Akin to a prayer, or a plea of some kind through your moan. Right in the middle of his speech on how you would die, and loud enough for him to hear.

“George.”

It was almost impressive with how quickly his threats stopped and was replaced with a moan that you felt like was filled with surprise. Accompanied with him spilling inside of you.

Embarrassingly, his sudden finish and feeling him throb into you also led to you reaching a quick climax.

You don’t even think it was fifteen minutes.

In rolling your hips to try to get something a little longer lasting, your brain tried to process how this was the first time you said his name. In your private moments of passion, you stuck to colorful insults, or called him ‘Nottingham’. It hadn’t even occurred to you to say his name to him, or to anyone in casual conversation. His name just slipped out.

Whatever you had planned to say next was cut short as he was quick to flip you onto your back, your head hitting the pillows in a rough fashion. He looked down at you with an unreadable expression, sweat coming from his face and onto you. Your eyes quickly glanced at the dagger that was still stuck to the headboard. You briefly wondered if he was actually going to go through with killing you. You silently clutched at the sheets. More so in anger than fear.

What a way to die, you thought. Your last words being his fucking name. If he could have the courtesy to pull out before he stabbed you that would-

“Say it again.”

You stilled as you looked at him.

“…What?” Your mouth finally catching up with your brain.

“I know you heard me.” He stated, almost breathlessly.

He was right. But you were still surprised. You wondered if this was the time to allow yourself to be a little more vulnerable to him. Honest, like how you were in the courtyard, and give him this one thing easily.

You quickly decided that wasn’t as fun.

“Only if you say mine too.”

He had learned your name of course, he just never bothered to call you by it. Sticking to insults or saying ‘you, come over here’. And admittedly, it never crossed your mind that you wanted him to say your name. Your fantasies only envisioned him insulting you, and swearing. He had that covered. Right now, you wanted to see how far you could push him, and had not actually expected him to do what you asked.

He had already been pushed enough by your presence.

Not breaking eye contact as he gripped back onto your hips and said your name in a voice that was filled with want and desire.

You felt the heat rise back into your face, and body.

No wonder he finished so quickly, you mused to yourself.

He looked at your lips, waiting.

Your hands moved to his forearms, as you mindlessly traced his equally healed up scar. He took a deep breath, as if to compose himself.

Your voice had the same level of want and desire. “George…”

George lunged at your face, his mouth planting firmly on yours as he was merciless in thrusting into you. It was much easier for him to get a rough pace going, with you being stretched out and underneath him. You instantly wrapped your legs and arms around his body, groaning into his mouth.

You expected him to get back into his regular threats, something about using a utensil on you. Instead, he kept attacking your mouth with his lips, teeth, and tongue. His breath went into you as you followed suit. You were surprised with how fast the heat inside of you was already building up again, as you scratched at his back with your nails. You were not shy in your volume.

Despite trying to hold out longer than last time, your insides started to become sore. The closeness of the position along with the sounds of the bed creaking much louder than before as the lewd noises your bodies made together started to become overstimulating.

Still, you were not one to back down from a fight. And there was no chance in Hell you were going to lose to him.

You made sure to match his thrusts as one of your hands tightened around his back, the other craning his face to make an attack on his neck. It was satisfying to see him bruise and bleed for a change. With his mouth right by your ear, his moans sent shivers down your spine.

“Fuck-” He let out.

“Are you close to finishing again already?” You teased. “You lasted longer in our fight.”

George let out an annoyed huff, as he went back to look at you through half-lidded eyes, muttering your name against your lips. “Shut up.”

However his mannerisms were betraying him, his hips stuttering as his grunting was getting pathetically louder. Your hand moved from his chin to the back of his neck, pulling him as close as you could. His forehead resting against yours.

“George-” You found yourself pleading, knowing that you were close as well.

It didn’t take a whole lot more thrusts from either of you to reach another climax. You could swear you saw stars as he held you close to finish inside you again. He buried himself in your neck, as you did with him. His sweat was sticking onto your body, and that smell of blood he constantly had on him was ever present. However, you didn’t mind it this time around. You came to associate it with him.

A bath would still do him some good. But you figured that would be pushing him too much. At least today.

You at the very least could have a bath soon.

The image of the two of you bathing together flashed in your mind. You didn’t forcefully stop this thought.

George pulled himself out of you, and despite the evidence of you being filled up to the brim by him, accompanied with some blood, you felt a bit empty once he left.

He kept hovering over you.

“Make no mistake, I’ll still torture you. Violently.”

You laughed, not believing him at all. You slightly pushed yourself up, wanting to get your bearings. Maybe actually go find a place to bathe.

That was until George went back down to hold you, his arms wrapping around your lower body.

You blinked. You didn’t know what to say at first, but he started to answer your question as he looked at you.

“You’re staying here to keep me warm. Or if I desire to release again.”

The possessiveness in his grip was supporting the second part of his reasoning. However, with his bundle of blankets, and his voice having a certain desperation to it, you found his first reason hard to believe.

A quick look into his eyes only confirmed your suspicions, his stare being a lot softer than he had with you before.

You felt you were out of threats, exhaustion starting to hit you. Any proper survival instinct muddled. So, you pulled the covers from underneath both of you, and wrapped him and yourself in them and huddled closer to his body.

It was warmer with him than if you slept alone.

George, a bit surprised that you didn’t fight back a little bit, cautiously kept his hold on you.

“Now I feel as though you will try something in the middle of the night.” He muttered.

“You’re the one who invited me.”

You paused, realizing you had one more threat.

“The dagger is still within my reach.” You yawned.

“It’s closer to me. I could stab you before you ever could.”

You hummed in mild agreement, not at all concerned, as you drifted off to sleep.

George followed quickly behind you, not before giving you one last look.

A Christmas gift was given to you as you did not wake up to him stabbing you, nor by him wanting to get in another fifteen minute session in.

Although you wouldn’t have minded the second one.

You did, however, wake up to the sound of the scribe opening the door, explaining to George that you weren’t in the quarters that were assigned to you before. You figured he really wanted to keep his plan under wraps. At this point, it wasn’t your concern. And so you kept your back facing the direction of the scribe’s voice, wanting a bit more sleep.

Instead, you got a bit more alert as George in a frighteningly quick fashion, shouted at him to shut up, to leave and to stop leering like a freak, followed by the found of the headboard moving a bit. The scribe cried out in fear as he quickly shut the door, and you could hear the sound of something small and metallic hitting the door and the ground.

You were just about to tell George to shut up as well until his gentle touch of wrapping an arm around your stomach stopped you. He nuzzled into the crook of your shoulder, sighing, and giving you a light kiss.

You weren’t sure how often he showed this kind of vulnerability behind closed doors, if at all. You knew not to ruin the moment, and planned for the Christmas morning to be uneventful.

Of course, George couldn’t help but ruin the moment not ten minutes later, as you felt something poking against you.

As you made your way around the small halls, checking up on each room that held kids who either had no homes or kids that refused to go back home, you could tell England was sure to have an intense winter. As fall was nearing its end and winter began, the modest walls of the once empty Inn now turned into an orphanage, no thanks to the Sheriff, you could feel the cold creeping in.

Checking in on one room in particular, you noticed two of the kids, an older brother and his younger sister, trying to huddle together for warmth. The sister, who was sound asleep, didn't notice you peeking in, yet her brother did. He looked up at you, and whispered as best as he could to not wake her up.

"Do you have a spare sheet we can use?"

You gave a sorrowful sigh, and put your finger up to let him know you'd get one. Or try to find one extra.

The only one you could provide him was your own that you had in your own quarters. You didn't live anywhere else. This little place was your home. You wouldn't have it any other way of course. The children were mostly pleasant to be around. Some tougher to handle than others, but you couldn't really fault them. Anyone at their age who was at risk of living on the street as a vagabond would. Still, you did your best to handle the kids with care. You even had them participating in different events around the town to try to integrate themselves more. With the next event being them caroling at the church.

Getting back to the room, you handed the boy your cover, tucking him and his sister in.

"Thank you." He said. Being closer you noted his voice was a bit raspy.

"I hope you're not catching a cold." You remarked.

"No- no I think," He cleared his throat. "I practiced too much today."

"Then you should take a break tomorrow." You said, as you gently sat on the edge of the bed.

"But- I know it's important to sing for the church later this month. I want to help our chances in people being more charitable, if they see all of us trying."

You patted his head, brushing the hair out of his face as well. "You are trying. It'll do you no good if you hurt yourself. We will be okay if you take a day's rest."

He sighed, and held his sister closer.

"I hope I get more change come this next Mass."

You nodded. "I pray for that too." You got up carefully. 

"You know," the boy said, thoughtfully. You looked at him. "I've never seen that Sheriff give anything out at Mass."

You grew annoyed, but not at the boy. It was on behalf of him, and directed at the Sheriff completely. These two kids were walking towards Nottingham when you found them a few weeks ago. They had little exposure to the kind of vile that he was. And it would be hard to explain it all without you saying words that were very inappropriate for them to hear.

"I know." Was all you could offer. You certainly weren't going to feed him lies or make an excuse.

"Maybe," the boy looked up at you, "you could ask him to spare some of his money?"

You hesitated, knowing that it would likely get you nowhere. But the boy looked so hopeful. In such a way that showed that he trusted you to be able to do this. And you at least wanted to tell him that you tried.

"I can. I can't guarantee that he'll spare some money. But I can ask him."

He looked confused. "Why wouldn't he?"

The topic of discussion on what kind of a man the Sheriff was would have to come another day.

 "You'll learn one day. Get some rest now."

You left the room as he said goodnight to you. You went outside of the Inn to get yourself some fresh air. Much like the Sheriff, it was bitterly cold. You rubbed your eyes as you contemplated him.

Always galavanting around in those egregiously expensive fabrics. You were sure many of those coats could suffice as extra padding or blankets for the children you had in your care. It was sickening on what he spent those extra funds on that you knew weren't going to the betterment of the town.

It peeved you. You were willing to bet if he even offered one piece of golden jewelry or something so small it would still be enough to cover the cost to get your Inn proper weather protection- Christ, a set of blankets would be appreciated at the very least. But no. He kept it to himself.

"Greedy bastard." You mumbled to yourself. 

As much as you really wanted to pray that he would find just an inch of goodness in his heart for the children, you knew it was fruitless. While it was every single day, this particular year the Sheriff of Nottingham always found a way to be cruel, it was almost impressive. In the time of the year where people were generally nicer, he found a way to be the exact opposite.You could consider it a yearly tradition at this point. He was always shouting about canceling Christmas or something or other every time. This year was sure to be no different.

But, it was really something you shouldn't have to consider right now. You needed the rest. It was Sunday Mass the next morning, and you were going to talk to the Bishop about the arrangements for the children practicing their choir lessons. And now, per your promise, you would have to ask the Sheriff about sparing some money.

You said a quick prayer for strength. It was going to be a busy day.

----

It was always an early morning for Sunday Mass for you. Needing to help the kids look as proper as they could for a church but still show that they were in need of fresher clothing or some food. It was an odd balance, but it had to be done. And now, you had to prep them for choir practice, which the church allowed for better practicing. The halls in the Inn didn't exactly make the children sound endearing.

Entering the church with the children, you saw a familiar face that you were happy to see, being Marian. She always did her best to help you and the children. But there was only so much she could do, with her not residing in the lands of Nottingham. She also didn't like to stay long. You didn't blame her, not one bit. What she was able to offer, whether that be clothing, spare food, anything she could give you were grateful for.

She greeted you and the children with a warm smile. The children greeted her back, some more open to her than others, but that was alright. You shook her hand, holding it for a moment.

"I hope you are doing alright this winter m'lady." You said 

"I should be saying that to you." She said, as she patted your hand, and let go. "I'm asking my cousin if he could spare some materials for you and your inn. He's been very busy is all."

"Yeah well," you said in a lower voice, "you wouldn't have to ask King Richard if a certain cretin could spare some of his gold."

Marian gave a chuckle filled with humor and pity. "I know, I know."

Some clamoring came from the church's entrance, and you peeked over your shoulder.

"Speak of the devil." You sighed.

Seeing the way the Sheriff of Nottingham had waltzed into the church, as if he owned the place- which he did- a faux smile as he greeted others, just cemented your hate for him. You knew he didn't enter the church with a genuine sense of goodness. Neither him nor his cousin. And this wasn't due to the rumors that he was raised by a witch. His mannerisms just reeked of putting on a show.

The Sheriff caught your staring, or he noticed Marian was standing next to you. You had heard from her that he had tried multiple attempts to court her. Either way, he had his eyes set and made his way over to you two.

"M'lady" He greeted Marian, while giving you a bare attempt at a greeting. That was fine by you though. You didn't need his attention. "You are as radiant as ever."

"Thank you Sheriff." She politely replied. "We can convene after Mass."

You knew that she just wanted to get out of any conversation with him faster. Likely she would make an excuse to leave early before she said another sentence to him.

The children had taken their place by one of the pews. But the young boy, holding his sister's hand, looked at you and the Sheriff.

Sadly, you would have to convene with him after Mass.

"I look forward to it." He said. You reluctantly cleared your throat. He gave you a look.

"Sheriff, I also must discuss with you on some matters. If that is alright."

He eyed you up and down, likely trying to see if you had anything up your sleeve. At least that's what you were rather hoping he was doing. You heard he had a reputation of... putting it lightly, being a man of many tastes.

Either way, he seemed satisfied. "Fine. After I tend to her and other matters first."

You nodded. You were going to have a chat with the Bishop about the practice time. He turned, his cloak dragging along with him, as he joined the barons and his cousin.

You gave Marian a look, which she returned in sympathy. Then you went to join the children.

Doing your best to participate in Mass was difficult as you dreaded the fateful conversation with the Sheriff. But you were someone who kept promises. Ever since you were little, living by yourself most of the time, you often had to fend for yourself. Learning how to ride, harvest, sew, hunt, fight, whatever you needed to live, you knew it was no life for a child. And you had promised yourself that if you had any children of your own, you'd give them everything that you could so they didn't have to live the life you did.

And technically, these children were your own now. You'd live and die for them. Of course, you would show them the skills you had learned, so they could grow to be self sustained individuals. But, you wanted to make sure they had the chance to live as children, unlike you. And if you had to talk to the Sheriff, then so be it.

After Mass was over, the Bishop waved you over, and you went to him, the children following behind. He showed them to the area that they would be practicing, along with the carols they needed to learn. He was also kind enough to give them drinks. You looked to the boys sisters, and knelt down

"Make sure he doesn't practice today. There will be time tomorrow."

She nodded. And you went to continue your conversation with the Bishop. To be blunt, you didn't care for him either. Really, you never liked the religious men here in Nottingham. Besides the Friar. Despite him being a drunk, he actually seemed to give a damn about what he taught. He always made the kids laugh too, and that was a gift in itself.

You had only spoken to the Bishop for a few minutes when the Sheriff had intervened in your conversation. You weren't sure how but within a short amount of time of Mass ending he already looked annoyed, or troubled by something. You figured either he hated being brushed off by Marian or the Barons said something he didn't like. Or, he was just like that today. Maybe all three options.

"I must speak with you." He said to the Bishop, being quick to immediately pull him aside without giving you a "pardon me" or even a glance.

You wanted to immediately follow, as a way to try to kill two birds with one stone and just ask him right away. However, the Sheriff stopped you.

"It's a private matter." He spoke to you as if you were below him.

You had to bite your tongue.

"Sheriff, I'd still like to speak with you as soon as possible." You started calmly.

He waved you away, "After I speak with him."

You gave a curt nod to him, but as soon as he turned around and walked with the Bishop, you stuck your tongue out at him as discreetly as you could.

"He really is-" you started to mumble to yourself.

"He's what?" A young voice asked you.

You looked down to see it was the boy. "Nothing. It's… just a tad frustrating, having to wait to ask him."

He seemed fine with that answer. Then you noted Marian talking to the children. She must've used them as an excuse to turn the Sheriff away.

"You don't have to wait up for me son, you can stand by Marian. She'll watch over you." You patted his head.

He seemed unsure, likely wanting an answer just as much as you did, even though you knew it would be disappointing to him. But, giving him another pat and a gentle push, he left to go be by Marian. Marian noted you, and began to help the children start to practice their choir, as she had helped out before.

You sighed. You really wanted to just get it over with. It may not have been the best idea, but you decided it would be better to ask forgiveness then receive permission. You walked to the door that you knew would lead to the stairs of the Bishops private chambers.

Opening the door and climbing up the stairs, you were in for the shock of your life as you heard the door leading to his room slam open. The Sheriff, looking more openly agitated and cursing profanities that really shouldn't have been said inside of a church, nearly stomped right into you. You got lucky and backed up. Although, once you did and he realized you were in front of him, he looked even more furious.

"Were you listening in on us you pest?!"

Pest? You thought to yourself. Pest?! You wanted to say something, but knew you had to keep it together, even if your face clearly had looked offended for a moment.

"No- I just needed to speak with-"

"I know what you wanted!" He moved past you, practically shoving you aside as he went out the door you just entered from. "But we can't always get what we want!"

You were quick to go after him, hearing the Bishop walk behind you.

Most of the patrons besides a few stragglers, Marian, the choir, and the Sheriff cousin, Guy of Gisborne, remained inside. Even still, they noted how the Sheriff stomped away with you following after. Marian, trying to keep some semblance of peace, had the choir continue practicing. The young lad did look over at the two of you.

"You promised to speak with me." You stated, still in a way that wasn't polite, but firm. "It won't take but a moment of your time."

He turned around, with just speed that you felt like he was going to get tangled in his cloak. His sword that he had on his hip was starting to. You silently hoped that one day he would trip on his fabric.

"What then? Spit it out."

You had to clench your fists.

"Sire," biting back the venom. "The winter will be harsh this year, as I'm sure you know-"

"Of course I do!" He sounded offended, like he's been told that a hundred times today.

"Well, I run the choir of orphaned children, over there." You pointed behind you, with him looking over at them with clear indifference. It started to anger you, and unbeknownst to you, the young boy had caught onto the Sheriff's clear disapproval of the choir. "And the Inn I own doesn't have proper foundations to protect us from the weather. I was hoping if you could spare-"

"What? Money? Gold?!" The Sheriff exclaimed.

You knew that was coming, but still wanted to try. "If even just a little, I worry for their-"

He was quick to cut you off. "You’re even lucky to have the Bishop and I generously offer you a place for them to practice." You furrowed your brows. He continued. "It'll be a miracle if I even allow those moochers to sing on Christmas!"

His upfront degrading comments to the children shocked you a bit. But whatever got him angry quickly didn't warrant them. And you were about to defend the kids. However, it seemed like you weren't the only one with that idea.

"Treat us with some respect!" The young boy demanded as he walked over next to you.

You and the Sheriff simultaneously looked down at him. You could faintly hear the caroling falter, as the children were trying to witness what your fates would be.

"You're getting more respect than you deserve, boy." His voice was dangerous, and had clear intentions of threat to you.

"The innkeeper is kind! You don't deserve to be a Sheriff if you are talking to others like that!"

In any other circumstance, you would be proud to have seen him stand his ground. And you were, just a bit. But the feeling left and was replaced with fear once you saw the Sheriff move to grab him. Knowing what the Sheriff did, which was often hanging people, he didn't discriminate. 

That fear turned into something that was survival instincts. Completely automatic, as you were quick to get in front of the boy and shove the Sheriff back.

You had pushed him with more force than you had intended. He stumbled backward, and unceremoniously fell down, wide eyed, like he couldn't believe what had just happened. You felt your eyes widen too as you realized what you had done. There was a stifling moment of silence within the church.

"That's what you get!" The young boy's voice rang out. He really wasn't making it any easier for either of you.

In a blink, the Sheriff was lunging back up. You weren't sure if he was coming after you or the child. But you, not wanting to risk the child's safety, feeling something surge within you, and took a stance.

In a maneuver you had practiced over the years, you were able to shove him back while simultaneously grabbing his sword from his holster. He let out an undignified yell as he fell down again. This time, you were standing over him with his own sword pointing directly in his face.

Your voice was cold and did not conceal the rage and intent you had, "You will not make any threats against my children."

No other action could be taken as Guy of Gisborne was quick to jump to his cousin's aid. Which was to point his sword at your neck and started to yell threats of his own. You were sure he managed to prick you, as you felt something run down your neck. Marian took the chance to get the boy out of harm's way. You could hear the children clamor in scared cries for you, as the Bishop was going on about not shedding blood in the Lord’s house.

You felt you were damned for all eternity.

It was not ‘just this one night’.

The following days as the Sheriff of Nottingham collaborated with you at the Inn, noting down what exactly needed to be fixed, what he was willing to give, and ordering his workers to get started on it, your sinful thoughts about him only increased with their quantity and their quality.

The first time he entered the Inn and gave the layout a judgmental look, as if he wasn’t the cause of its disrepair state, you wanted to punch him. Then you thought about punching him with your mouth. Getting on top of his broader and taller figure than yours and putting him in his place by pinning him down. It was only noon and you could hardly look at him, being as focused as you could on the building around you.

His deep voice and casual touches, which were often to push you aside as he walked past you haunted you. All you could think about was your fight with him and wishing you could start another one, if it meant that you could be in a closer and more intimate proximity with him. You had to put yourself as far away as you possibly could. A difficult task as the whole point of the battle was for him to work with you in actually fixing something within Nottingham instead of letting it rot.

And granted, it seemed like he wasn’t just doing the bare minimum like you had expected. He would stand in silence as you explained to him what needed to be fixed, what supplies you needed, anything of the like. There were accommodations that couldn’t be made just yet, due to the intensity of the weather that was coming in, much to the Sheriff’s dismay of wanting to overwork people. Physically, at the rate the snow was falling each day, there would be more monetary and supply losses than gains if he sent men to get supplies from London. So, it would have to be after the ever growing ice storm breaks for anyone to get supplies for the outside of the building. Such as filling the cracks, replacing the windows and doors for much sturdier ones.

But for now, the Sheriff was able to get proper furnishing, restoring the fireplaces, kitchen areas, the bedrooms, some of the flooring that desperately needed fixing and couldn’t be held off, and getting a proper area for bathing.

After each day, when you had excused him out of the Inn for you and the children to rest, you locked yourself in your room and did your best to pray away any lustful thought you had of him. You always lost in the end, needing to clean yourself properly, and be sure to go to church the next morning and really think about what you did. It was the perfect excuse anyway, seeing that you did have to watch and train the kids the carols. And the Sheriff didn’t enter the church unless it was Sunday. So, at the very least, it was an hour and a half break from him.

Through you guiding him and him guiding his men, as well as you getting your own hands dirty in helping him watching you as you did, the Sheriff made this a perfect time to talk about himself. Despite your annoyance of hearing his voice and his arrogant tales, to your dismay you started to look forward to the times he talked. His dramatic flare was, admittedly, something enjoyable. Initially something you had believed was just a way for him to hear himself talk, which it very much was, he also questioned- or more appropriately demanded to know- you. How you came to achieve the skills you had, how you managed to end yourself here, and why you even bothered to do anything for these kids.

“I was once in their shoes.” you explained as you did your best to clean out the chimney, getting old and rotted soot and wood on you. You realized the smoke couldn’t have exited out, the hole was blocked by too sharp rocks and tree branches that never managed to fall. That’s why there had been smoke that filled the Inn whenever you tried to light a fire.

So, tying and dropping a rope through the top’s opening in order to give you something to hold on to, you climbed inside, being able to fit, and whack at the rocks and branches with a sword and hammer. You were nearly down at the bottom, but still at least five feet off the ground.

“Being forced to survive on my own, without any family to rely on. It was not easy.”

The Sheriff, very stupidly, laid his head inside of the fireplace to be able to hear you better, moving out any debris that landed beside him. Or on top of him, which he cursed out in pain, making you chuckle on the inside.

His voice echoed through the cramped walls.

“It builds your strength and independence.” He countered.

“Even so, it’s isolating, and can be damaging to the heart and mind.”

“Well, I didn’t have any parents to watch over me, and I turned out magnificent.”

The Sheriff said it in a serious tone that you couldn’t help but laugh out loud at him, the noise traveling through the chimney. You felt retribution hit you instantly as you began to cough uncontrollably. This then caused the Sheriff to laugh at you. Retribution followed him soon after as well as your coughing caused you to drop your tools, such as your sword and hammer, to fall and hit his head, causing him to get out the way. You heard him cursing to himself. Still laughing, you faced more consequences as the rope snapped and you fell on your feet and partially on your ass.

Being at the opening of the fireplace, you got a good look at him as he held his head and his shoulder, the tools on the ground. Not learning your lesson, you pointed at him and were still chuckling a bit, a few coughs in between.

The Sheriff glared at you, and gestured to your face that was dirty and grimy. “You’re not exactly in a regal state either, you know.”

You crawled out, hissing at the slight pain on your lower body. “Nothing that a snow fight with the children couldn’t help.” It was a way to keep them outside, and not near the Sheriff, but close enough to you.

He looked out to the front of the Inn, where they held it.

“A waste of time.” He muttered.

“What is?” You asked as you stood up.

He waved his hand to the kids. “That. Playing in the snow. They could be working and contributing to society.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, now your uptight personality makes sense. You don’t understand the concept of fun.”

“I know how to have fun. My kind of fun is in the dungeon and my personal chambers.” He gave a thoughtful smirk.

You did your best to not have any of those images in your head now. You only just left church less than an hour ago. Not looking him in the eye, you began to walk out.

“Have fun with your disgraceful acts and a stick up your ass. I’m going to clean myself.”

----

George observed you through the broken window as you grabbed snow off the ground to wipe the soot and dirt off your face.

Everyday since his battle with you he’s thought of no one, or even nothing else but you. He could hardly focus when he was by himself, and at night, he could only sleep after satiating his fantasies about you as best as he could. He tried a few times to compensate by inviting others into his bed and pretending it was you giving him pleasure. Ultimately, it wouldn’t do him any good. No one could match the energy and challenge you had that he wanted. So, he would dismiss them, unsatisfied.

The only other way he could get any sort of closeness to you was working extensively on the Inn you had. When he had agreed to uphold his part of the deal, he wasn’t planning on putting all the effort he could into it. It was a waste of resources.

But George rationalized to himself that this was the opportune time to get closer to you. To find a chance to be alone with you and to have you as he saw fit. If he spent more than he had wanted to, putting in the time to fix up the poor place, so be it.

Unfortunately, with the amount of men that were needed to get the place in better shape, and with you watching those little tyrants, then account for when you sent him on his way for the night, there was no opening for him.

And yes, he could easily make up any sort of excuse to drag you off into a secluded and secure spot, and he normally was never picky about where he partook in his activities. However, the Inn really was a shit place. The floor wasn’t even usable, earlier he gave a few good stomps in an area that you warned him to be careful of. And in ignoring you, he gave it another good stomp and suddenly found himself up to his knee in the hole. After laughing at George, you did help pull him out. If he was going to be even just the slightest rough with you-which he was- he couldn’t do it here.

And unless he found a way to get you back to his castle with a good probable reason that you wouldn’t see through, he had to wait longer.

Although the moments such as before, learning more about you, and watching you now as you went from cleaning yourself to spending time with the children, tossing the kids around in the snow… It stirred some kind of storm in his stomach.

George suddenly got an idea.

----

You asked Marian for help at the choir practice.

You would’ve normally been capable of doing it yourself, as you had before. But it was a very, very intense night of barely any sleep. One third of it being taken up with self pleasure due to the Sheriff, another third of cursing yourself out for engaging in any kind of self pleasure due to the Sheriff, and the last third, simply was just the weather conditions, as the snowfall got steadily worse.

At least the church provided you with a sense of comfort. Listening to the children as they got better and better with their singing, the cool stillness the walls provided as around this time, it was particularly empty. You stood and let your eyes close, allowing you to have a moment's peace.

It really had been a miracle that the Sheriff had not even hinted that he would call off the Christmas events, and in turn the caroling. In fact, despite the fight and near death experience between the two of you, this was one of the more positive holiday seasons in Nottingham. For you and the town. For example, his wrath wasn’t directed at any one else, such as Marian. From what she told you, he hardly ever bothered her. Sure, he bothered you, but not in the way he did her.

At least, not that he had been aware of.

The sound of the church’s door opening and closing loudly accompanied with footsteps did break your quiet listening and breathing, causing you to take a quick inhale in. Your eyes still closed as you heard whoever came in get closer to you, stopping right by your side as the person must’ve watched the children.

“There’s still better ways to serve the public.”

“Jesus fu-” You startled in a hushed whisper as you looked to the Sheriff, confused as to why he would even be in church at this moment. In that confusion was the seed of excitement, that you were dead set on ignoring.

“That’s not proper language for the church.” He gave you a mock innocent look.

“Shut it, I’m listening to them sing.” You looked at them. The young boy gave a dirty look to the Sheriff. Not that you were going to stop him from doing that.

You could tell from the corner of your eye he was judging the choir.

“Is this really what the service could expect from them?”

You turned to him more, annoyed. “First you complain that they are doing this to begin with. Now you complain that the act you weren’t even interested in is not up to your standards?”

The Sheriff gave a quick closed smile, you wanted to smack it off his face. Using your mouth. Then your palm. Then your mouth again-

Your thoughts were getting you nowhere, so you shook your head at him, and continued to watch the kids.

This routine of the Sheriff inviting himself to watch the choir practice, whether it was you aiding the children or Marian, became routine. You weren’t sure where he got the nerve to think he was allowed to do that. Now, you had no sense of sanctuary, besides when you slept. And that of course was difficult. The church, the Inn, he even found ways to accompany you around the town. Complaining about the walking he had to do in the snow. You so desperately wanted to point out how he really didn’t have a solid reason to be with you, as it had nothing to do related to the work that needed to be done. Unless of course he wanted to annoy you. Which was probable.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Besides not wanting him to think that he won whatever game he was trying to play, likely to push you to the brink of annoyance, you wanted him near you. Needed him. In a way that if anyone else had known about it, it would’ve become a concern to the general public. It was sickening, wanting him even after all that had happened and yet still yearning for any kind of connection to him that could lead to an altercation much like the duel. Of course, you would never admit that to him. You would die a thousand times over. You knew he would never let you hear the end of it if he ever found out what his effect had on you after dark. He seemed to be that kind of man. Which didn’t help your dirty thoughts.

Still, you allowed him to be by you, even if it was giving you inner turmoil.

It was the Sunday before Christmas, where after Mass you were to stay longer so the kids could continue practicing. As you walked through the doors, instead of standing by Marian or the children, you spotted where the Sheriff stood. While there was nothing pressuring you to stand by him, you found yourself walking up and taking the spot next to him.

Guy, the Sheriff’s cousin, gave you a dirty look as he looked over the Sheriff’s shoulder. Often after the fight, it was the Sheriff that approached you, never you at him. Unless you were working at the Inn. Out in public, only him. It would make sense that Guy thought you had been planning something.

“Relax, cousin.” The Sheriff motioned him to back down. You were surprised that he didn’t question why you were next to him.

Of course, when you looked over to where the kids and Marian were at, she had given you a look of wonder as to what you were doing there.

All you could do was shrug.

You could tell others had silently wondered what you were doing by him. Not only had many heard of your defiant act in the church all those weeks ago, but due to you telling the kids and Marian, and likely due to Guy of Gisborne and the scribe knowing about your duel with the Sheriff, word got around quickly. No one dared to question the Sheriff or you what happened, fearing the repercussions. But they always seemed to look at the two of you when you were seen in public in a way that wasn’t the Sheriff ordering you around. Any other context than that, confused them.

You couldn’t blame them.

Throughout the service, you noticed how often the Sheriff couldn’t keep his focus, or interest in what was being said, unless it had to do with him. You already figured he was anything but a holy man, but you grew curious as to why he didn’t care for it.

After Mass, and after the choir practice, and making your way to the Inn, you were not gentle in your question.

“Why do you bother going to church?” You looked at him as you tried your best to walk straight in the snow. Surely, there would be an ice storm that week. You hoped it wouldn’t cancel the choir plans.

“Is there a reason why I wouldn’t?” He countered.

“How many did you sleep with last night? Because that would equal the amount of reasons you didn’t have to attend church today.”

The Sheriff shoved you, but not enough for you to fall. He didn’t give you an immediate response, you almost thought he was going to simply ignore the question.

“I have an image to uphold.”

For a self centered sentence, he seemed thoughtful about it.

“What image would that be?” You asked.

The Sheriff gestured to himself. “One that’s close to godliness.”

You had to stop and look at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” He turned to you.

“If you were just even the slightest bit close to an angel, you’d be a lot kinder.”

He placed his hands on his hips and leaned into you in a smug fashion. “I’m holding my part of the deal, aren’t I?”

“For now.” You stated, turning your body to walk towards the Inn, before looking back at him with a sideways glance. “I’ve learned that a man is much more honorable in being honest.”

You did hate to admit that he still had a point. Even if any future intentions weren’t clear, he was doing more than what was expected of him. He didn’t have to supply and work on your Inn to the max as he did. He didn’t have to limit his uptight and brash nature to you and not others he came across, which was tamed compared to his normal temper. You were still sure that at some point, you would meet an untimely death, and he was trying to blindside you with an ice storm that would be more ferocious than the one that was sure to come.

For now, all he did was shove you aside again to walk a bit further ahead than you.