#phantom drabbles

Kovacs didn’t even bother to hold my hand like any other possible gentleman as we drifted towards his suite using one vintage elevator. 

With each passing floor upward, this silence proved deafening between us, palpable at the same time. Once both doors rattled to open, we met eye to eye to darkness, shrouded by overhead beams that flickered like candlelight. 

“What do you want from me?” I whipped my curls around in hopes of seeing him nearby, and asked that logical question. There was no choice but to level my voice in the name of protection, just in case he changed his mind and plotted to kill me right here instead. 

“Too long.” His words echoed behind me. I suddenly realized that we stood before this full-length mirror that centered the living room. His voice lurked closer, nearly ghosting by the shell of my ear. His predatory footsteps were not even heard.  

Before I could utter words to respond, his long arms clasped around my waist, pulling right into his broad but clothed chest. Soft fabric of his white yet bloodied dress shirt touched my back, smoothing. 

My breath almost hitched, nearly ragged before this man even dared to give out more. 

And yet, his capable hands reached upward, groping my breasts through thin layers of this tank top I’d worn for the night. He doubled this pleasure by grinding right into the back of my jeans, sending friction through our clothes as I failed to keep composure. 

“Don’t you dare run off! You’re already squirming, Finch? What a shame.” His teeth clenched as we moved faster and I nearly bent over, holding onto air as my hands spread forward, needing balance this evening. 

“Fuck!” I called out, biting my lip soon afterward. His hips bucked faster now, coiling my need to spill through these jeans and we hadn’t even ripped each other’s clothes off yet. 

“C’mere. Look.” Almost growling, he only moved one hand away from my waist to grip my chin, forcing me to watch the mirror straight ahead. His lips returned towards the shell of my ear, lethal. “You see that, hmm?”

“I hate you.” I barked, still pissed off by my own mistake. Giving in like this should’ve never happened, especially since we’d barely known each other before. 

And yet, my mind consented the sound of his jingling belt buckle, desperate to fill this need before we might’ve actually killed each other in the morning. 

“I’ve got what you need in my pocket. I’m not a madman.” Even when he respectfully offered for us to use a condom, I didn’t want it. Not one sight of fabric veiled his erection before precrum teased my entrance. 

“Thank you for the offer, but no thank you. Just get it over with it.” I shattered once his hand gripped my curls. 

It wasn’t long before he plunged inward at the same time, leaving me no choice but to reach the nearest surface and clutch. He’d barely taken off my own jeans, immediately wanting us to fuck. 

“Waited all night for this! You’re so tight.” His words rambled, but still held power as each thrust moved deeper into my core from behind now. 

“Tak…” I whimpered, already ducking my head closer and closer towards the carpet that silenced our footsteps. 

“No. What did I tell you downstairs?” He corrected, reminding me. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Daddy.” I trembled, clouded by him. Intoxicated by him. My mind and body only locked for him. 

“Look at me.” He pulled back my curls and forced our eye contact once more, twisting this hair with just enough strength to almost make it hurt. I never gave a damn, senseless at his mercy. 

In that moment, his tongue peaking outward, already launching us both into one ravenous kiss. As he moaned straight into my mouth, his hand still gripped around my curls, keeping me grounded and turned on all at once. 

His pace stuttered now, finally losing momentum as we moved closer to the edge. Even his brow furrowed, unexpectedly looking more submissive this time. 

“I’m close…Please. Keep going.” I begged. No more pretenses. 

“Shit.” He then broke first, spilling before we could even take another breath. My body obediently trailed right behind him, as I’d lost my own strength altogether. 

“Mmm.” I only vocalized, cooling down. Our breathing labored, but soon calmed like synced rhythms of two commuting maelstroms. 

“Don’t move.” Still resting inside me, his voice somehow bridged between dominance and quiet desperation, not wanting me to leave unlike earlier. 

Just seconds later, he released that monstrous grip of my curls and pulled out of my core, leaving me nothing short of hollow. 

All the same, he didn’t vanish to shower and gestured for us both to stand tall, correcting our posture in that mirror as we faced disheveled clothes. 

“Now what?” I clipped. 

“Shower. I’ll wait for you.” He made another offer to me, sounding oddly generous as we noticed each other. 

“Thank you.” I whispered, heading into the ensuite. 

________

Wearing this guest robe after my shower, I entered the living room again to see him sitting down, smoking another cigarette. 

“Take my room. I’ll keep watch out here.” He gestured toward the back, of course referring to his bedroom.  

“Are you sure?” I just wanted to be sure and stay cordial. “It’s still your space after all.” 

“Yes.” He affirmed, not arguing. 

*****

The next morning, I sat up between covers to find him standing in the doorway, lighting another cigarette and eyeing me as if I’d barged in. 

“Didn’t think you’d still be asleep.” His cigarette wedged between two nimble fingers. “Most people leave out before daylight.” 

“Kicking me out?” I rasped, barely awake and fussing through eyesight 

“Not unless you’ve plotted to kill me, Finch.” He said, never joking.

“I would’ve already done it last night.” I defended myself. 

It was not long before Poe materialized behind the concierge desk once again, ready to address both Takeshi and Kira as needed.  

“Have you met a friend, Mr. Kovacs?” Poe asked. Silence otherwise reached the lobby as all three stood. 

“I don’t have friends.” Tak corrected. “This is Kira. She knows information about Finch and bringing her along might be helpful.”

“Hold on for one damn second. You never really asked for my help, Kovacs.” Kira snipped these words, glancing over shoulder to retort. 

“Whatever.” 

“Oh! So you just asked me to dodge bullets outside, but won’t let me help with whatever the hell’s going on right now?” Kira fumed, reasonably pissed off by current circumstances. “I already told you that Finch is a myth. Believe what you want at this point.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Kovacs swaggered forward, bruised or bloodied from days-old injuries that even the greatest medical bays couldn’t immediately patch up tonight. 

“What?” Kira narrowed her eyes, watching him. 

“You seem pretty defensive over a ghost story if Finch isn’t alive.” Kovacs lifted the journal, moving closer. 

“What do you want to know?” Kira clenched her teeth, hoping to stand tall instead of possibly cower like anyone else. 

“First of all, is Finch alive or not?” Kovac lowered his voice, nearly rasping its tone with each predatory step forward. 

“Yes.” Kira replied, no longer wishing to give out falsehood. Lying would make this man kill her without mercy. 

“All right, now we’re getting somewhere.” Kovacs offered the statement with sly intent, almost chuckling through his words. “Was she resleeved too, Hmm?”

“Yes.” Kira answered obediently, left with no other but to comply or risk losing her own stack within seconds of this interrogation even taking place. 

“If I asked you where she is right now, would you be willing to tell me?” Kovacs arched his brow, step close enough to nearly end all space between himself and Kira before long. 

“Yes.” Kira repeated herself, still frozen in place while Tak  slipped that journal onto the concierge desk near Poe for safekeeping. Poe then moved to guard that same book, digitally veling its location now. 

“Where is she?” Kovacs growled, fed up while standing just inches away from Kira. 

“Right here.” Kira rasped her own voice and revealed this true form. Centuries of distance had led to this one night.