professional adrian chase lover

For now, you have a different ritual to follow. The private shows started a few months ago. You had grown jaded from the routine of your life, tired of feeling neglected, tired of pretending the persistent ache in your belly would eventually disappear on its own. It never did, so you found your own way to distract yourself, your own way to make the long nights pass a little faster. First, you put together a playlist composed entirely of the sluttiest pop songs you can find from twenty years ago, songs dripping with nostalgia and bad decisions. Second, you slip into the tiny nightgown you bought last week, the one that barely qualifies as clothing and somehow makes you feel better every time you wear it. 

Waiting has become part of the ritual. You moved to the window. Across the street, every house has its curtains drawn, tv screens flickered behind closed blinds, ordinary people living ordinary lives, already asleep or pretending to be. Your gaze drifted further down the block until it settled on the roof in front of your apartment where the streetlights reflected in his red visor. Right on schedule. 

A faint smile pulls at the corner of your mouth, whatever could be said about him, he was consistent. The first time you noticed him had been an accident. A brief glance through your own window during another sleepless night while your husband worked. But there he was, perched on the roof of the building across the street sitting with his legs dangling over the edge and swinging idly beneath him like a kid. Neither of you waved but you found other ways to acknowledge the other. Maybe seeing you humping your pillow was the highlight of his nights. He obviously liked your little ‘shows’, you could guess it by looking at the shape of his body outlined in the dark, his elbow moving at the same rhythm of your hips.

Tonight, humping your pillow is never going to be enough to quiet the restless frustration inside you, not when the emptiness has been building for days and every attempt to distract yourself has only made it more impossible to ignore. You are already kneeling on your bed, one hand disappearing beneath the waistband of your panties, the movements of your fingers slow and deliberate around your clit as you spread your knees just a little farther apart, making absolutely certain there can be no misunderstanding about what you are doing for the man watching from the other side of the patio door.

After several long, increasingly frustrating minutes, you abandon the last pretense of restraint and push your panties down, impatient with the fabric that keeps getting in the way, leaving nothing to hinder your touch as your fingers move more freely in and out of you. Your other hand wanders over your body, lingering against the soft satin of your chemise as the thin material wrinkles beneath your squeezing grip around your breasts. Your breathing grows heavier while your gaze remains fixed on the figure outside, silently daring him to keep watching.

But it still wasn't enough, you were increasingly desperate for the release that always seemed just beyond your reach. With an impatient sigh, you slowly withdrew your fingers from your warmth before leaning over the edge of the bed, pulling open the drawer of your nightstand. Inside, an assortment of sextoys lay neatly arranged. Your gaze drifted over them only briefly before settling on your favorite without hesitation, vibrant blue, smooth as silk beneath your fingertips and perfectly curved.

You wrapped your fingers around it before returning to the center of the bed, your movements patient now despite the urgency burning inside you. Carefully positioning yourself, you lowered your body with deliberate slowness, allowing yourself to adjust little by little, inch after inch. The work of your fingers earlier had done little to prepare you and you couldn't help noticing the tension in your body as the fullness forced you to pause more than once, the initial discomfort gradually giving way to a deeper, more satisfying sensation as your muscles slowly relaxed around it.

For the briefest of moments, a reckless thought crossed your mind, and you found yourself wondering whether he could hear the moans slipping past your lips from where he sat, despite the distance between you, despite the thick pane of glass separating your worlds, and despite the music loud enough to swallow every other sound. Part of you desperately hoped he couldn't but another, far more desperate part of you wished the opposite, wished the silence between you could somehow be broken. 

You slowly lifted your head in a half-hearted attempt to meet his gaze through the crimson-tinted visor that concealed his gaze, knowing full well you had no chance of seeing his eyes and yet unable to resist pretending otherwise. It was only then, as your attention finally settled on the rooftop where he had been sitting only moments before, that you realized something was different tonight. The silhouette was gone.

A faint crease formed between your brows as you instinctively searched the roof again, wondering if you had lost sight of him in the darkness, but there was nothing there except the empty edge of the building. Your confusion lasted only a heartbeat before a movement below caught your eye, drawing your attention toward the street to see the familiar figure step onto the sidewalk and begin walking with confidence in your direction. He disappeared between the neighboring buildings, leaving you staring into the fog with your heart hammering against your ribcage.

You barely had time to wonder where he had gone. A metallic clang echoed somewhere below, followed by the faint groan of old steel under shifting weight. Your balcony overlooked the building's fire escape, a rusted maze of platforms and ladders that no tenant ever bothered to use. Tonight, however, someone was climbing it. Your breath caught as a gloved hand appeared over the railing, followed by the unmistakable silhouette of Vigilante hauling himself effortlessly onto your balcony. He landed without a stumble, straightened to his full height, and turned toward the apartment as though scaling three stories had required no effort. 

The absurdly cheerful music continued to pulse through the apartment when he reached for the handle and slowly slid the patio door open. Cold air spilled into the room and goosebumps appeared on the skin of your thighs.

"So." His voice carried a hint of amusement. "We've been pretending not to notice each other for weeks."

He rested one gloved hand against the doorframe, making no immediate move to step inside, his masked head tilting ever so slightly before finally settling his attention on you.

"Technically, what you're doing isn't illegal. I checked." He paused. "I mean... not just now. I didn't stop halfway up the fire escape to google it or anything. I already knew."

He simply kept talking with all the confidence of a man delivering a lecture in a courtroom rather than standing in the middle of your bedroom. The sheer absurdity of it left you speechless because he spoke with such seriousness that it almost seemed he had somehow chosen to ignore the fact that a dildo was still buried to the hilt inside you.

"But the music?" He pointed a finger toward the speakers. "That's another story. I'm not saying excessive enthusiasm for early-2000s pop is a crime..." He said, raising a finger like he was quoting an actual statute. "Because legally speaking, it isn't."

He leaned just enough for the red visor to catch the light.

"But I am saying that if I lived next door, I'd probably be drafting a strongly worded letter to the homeowners association. Or starting a petition. Actually, no, petitions are for cowards."

He folded his arms across his chest. "I'm just saying your neighbors almost certainly hate Nelly Furtado now. And by extension… they might hate you."

He let that sink in with all the gravity of someone announcing a homicide investigation. "That's how neighborhood feuds starts." He shrugged. "First it's Promiscuous at full volume on a Tuesday night." He pointed vaguely toward the street. "Then six months later someone's keying your car. It escalates."

His mouth was invisible beneath the mask but somehow you could hear the grin in his voice. "So I'm here as a concerned citizen. A judgmental one."

Even though you had gone perfectly still the moment he stepped through the patio door, your body hadn't yet recovered from the frantic bouncing of your hips and your chest rose and falled with every shallow breath you struggled to steady. You remained dumbfounded, your mind scrambling to make sense of the surreal conversation unfolding in front of you. Your eyes drifted over him and, despite the thickness of his suit and the armor covering most of his body, there was one detail impossible to overlook, his very visible erection shattered whatever illusion of composure he had been trying to maintain and made the situation somehow even more ridiculous.

Against your better judgment, you decided the only sensible response was to tease him  “And what are you going to do Vigilante?” Your breathing was uneven, the adrenaline coursing through your body. “Are you going to call the cops? Are you going to kill me?”

“I’m not going to call the cops. Duh… These guys are lame.” You could see the exaggerated roll of his eyes toward the ceiling, as though the very suggestion had personally offended him. 

"So what are you waiting for?" You continued. "To pull out that big knife of yours and finally make me shut up?" You arched a knowing eyebrow as your gaze dipped toward his  crotch.

Without a word, he reached over his shoulder and unsheathed the sword strapped across his back in one smooth motion, lifting its tip beneath your chin with precision. "It's not a knife." He corrected. "It's a Honshu war sword. That's... pff... that's totally different." 

Then, he caught the innuendo. You could almost hear the gears grinding inside his head as the meaning of your words finally caught up with him. “Oh.” He mumbled, lowering the blade before sliding it back into its sheath with far less confidence than he had drawn it. "Not… Not that kind of weapon."

The slight stutter creeping into his voice was adorable. His now-empty hand rose to replace the sword beneath your chin, the touch surprisingly gentle as he closed the remaining distance between you.

His gloved fingers tightened ever so slightly beneath your chin, firmly refusing to let you look away as you opened the fly of his pants. 

"Hey" He said quietly. "Look at me. Are you sure? I mean, there's a pretty huge difference between putting on a show for some weird guy sitting on a rooftop and..." He made an awkward, circular gesture with his other hand, as though hoping the rest of the sentence might somehow assemble itself. "...and crossing a line you can't uncross."

"My husband leaves for work every single night." You spat, the words escaping with sharp bitterness. "He's an idiot." 

You freed him from the confines of his pants and boxers, your movements unhurried despite the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat. As the fabric fell away you caught the reflection of the rounded outline of his ass in the glass of the patio door. For a brief moment, the reflection felt strangely surreal, as though you were watching complete strangers standing there instead of yourself.

Slipping off the bed and leaving the sextoy aside, you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him. Almost experimentally, you let a single finger travel from the tip all the way to the base of his cock before tracing the same path upward again. The subtle caress drew an immediate reaction from him, his body giving a sharp, involuntary jolt that he made no effort to hide.

Encouraged by the response, you leaned in closer until your lips brushed against him, taking your time as you began with teasing movements, your tongue tracing deliberate circles. Every measured motion seemed to chip away at the composure he had been clinging to since climbing onto your balcony, replacing his awkward confidence with increasingly ragged breaths.

His eyes drifted shut beneath the visor, his chest rising and falling more heavily with each passing second. His hips lifted almost imperceptibly toward you before he seemed to catch himself, while his gloved hand found its way into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands and tightening reflexively against your scalp, searching for something to ground himself.

The sounds that escaped him were loud and unguarded. For all his attempts to remain self-assured, the facade crumbled in an instant.

"Fuck..." He admitted between shaky breaths, his voice cracking. "You're so hot." 

You slowly took him deeper, giving yourself a moment to adjust your throat. Every subtle shift was careful, your focus entirely on maintaining the steady rhythm you had chosen. The moan he let out when your nose slightly touched the hairs at the base of his cock was sinful. 

A startled gasp escaped you as he abruptly pulled you back, breaking the rhythm you had settled into and leaving you momentarily breathless from the sudden change. Before you could fully regain your breath, his gloved hand slipped firmly into your hair, gathering it at the back of your head with a possessive grip, holding you in place as he began thrusting deeper into your mouth. His hips continued to drive forward in an unrelenting rhythm, every movement more forceful than the last as he fucked your throat. 

Only when he could no longer hold himself together did he finally draw back, the sudden absence of pressure made you instinctively inhale too quickly and you doubled over as a series of sharp gasps escaped your lip.

"Hey… I'm not... being too rough, am I?"

You looked up at him, still catching your breath, and gave a small shake of your head. "No."

"You'd tell me if I was?"

A faint smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "I like it."

He encouraged you to your feet before guiding you backward toward the bed, never once taking his eyes off you, and as you settled onto the mattress he followed, his frame enveloping yours until there was barely any space left between you. He nestled his masked face into the crook of your neck, his restless energy replaced by an almost startling tenderness.

"This is a really beautiful nightgown you're wearing." He murmured. "I'll... uh... I'll try not to damage it."

His attention shifted to your body as he carefully adjusted your position, bending your legs before lifting them until they rested comfortably over his padded shoulders and his hands settled against your thighs. He pushed himself into you, dragging his cock inside you inch by inch.

He didn't rush, setting an almost torturous pace, advancing little by little, savoring every passing second. Your fingers instinctively tightened around the sheets beneath you while your back arched. His jaw tightened beneath the mask and his fingers flexed against your thighs with enough force to mark your skin. 

The careful rhythm gradually gave away to something faster, more instinctive, your hips rolling against his. The room filled with moans and gasps, the rhythmic creak of the bed and the muffled sounds of the fabric of his suit, while the music that had once dominated the apartment faded into little more than distant background noise. You weren’t even able to say if it was a Britney or a Rihanna song anymore.

Each time he found the same angle again, another involuntary moan escaped you. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest before drifting upward to your face, studying every involuntary reaction with complete fascination.

Then his head tipped forward between your tits, folding you impossibly in two, your ankles to his ears, knees almost touching your shoulders. You will surely have burns from his kevlar suit behind your thighs.

"You want me to finish in this pretty pussy of yours?" He murmured, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths before a manic laugh escaped him. "What would your husband think about that?"

"He'll never know." You whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek with tenderness. "It'll be our secret."

A crooked grin spread beneath the mask, obvious even if you couldn't see it. "Hell yeah." He muttered, his voice slipping back into his bizarre enthusiasm. "Gonna put a baby in you."

"We're gonna call him..." He paused, clearly thinking far too hard about it. "...Minilante." He gave himself an entirely self-satisfied nod. "Yeah. Perfect."

With one particularly forceful movement, your head tipped back with abandon, your entire body surrendering to the overwhelming intensity of the moment as his name escaped your lips in a breathless cry, your climax making your back arch and your legs tremble. 

He was impossibly deep, filling you so completely, every movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through you from head to toes, your warmth enveloping him, clenching around his grith. He withdrew almost entirely, leaving only the tip inside your entrance before pressing forward one last time. You felt his length throbbing, spending his release into you in thick, hot ropes and he whined your name while his arms tightened around your waist. 

The two of you remained tangled together on your bed. Vigilante laid close beside you, one gloved hand resting absentmindedly against your belly, his palm lingering there with tenderness, almost directly above your womb.

"Do you feel better?" He asked, his voice stripped of its manic energy.

"Undoubtedly." You answered without hesitation, the corners of your mouth lifting into a lazy smile.

"You're still capable of putting together a word with more than three syllables, so... allow me to remain skeptical."

An enormous yawn escaped you before you had any chance of hiding it, your eyes watering slightly as exhaustion finally caught up with you.

"There it is." He said with satisfaction. 

You laughed softly.

"What about tomorrow?" He continued, sounding suddenly enthusiastic again. "We'll spend the evening together. You'll wear that teal dress in your closet, you know, the really pretty one, and we'll go out somewhere nice. We'll find some cozy little restaurant and pretend we're respectable adults."

You turned your head toward him with an amused smile. "Ok. But not Fennel Fields."

"Alright, alright." He conceded, raising both hands in theatrical surrender. "I'll find somewhere else. No succulent mozza sticks for you."

He reached up and carefully lifted the lower half of his mask just enough to expose his jaw and mouth. "You are tired." He murmured. "You should get some sleep."

His gloved hand slipped beneath your head with gentleness, carefully adjusting the pillow before his fingers combed through your hair in reassuring strokes. Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss against your temple before resting his forehead lightly against yours.

"Goodnight Vigilante."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his exposed mouth. "Goodnight Mrs. Chase."

—

Times like this, you wished you had a better sense of time, or a stronger resolve to keep a hold on your brain when you’re holding onto Adrian like this.

Earlier, he had perched you onto his lap, his arms around you as he guided you (while simultaneously begging you to just) hug him while he puts it inside you. Now, you were too gone to even try and change position. He was the type of guy to be able to stay in one position for the rest of his life.

"Oh, shit—" Adrian whimpered, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear. His arms that were wrapped so tightly around you, holding you so impossibly close, shook with want. Want doesn't even cover what he feels in the moment. He needs—longs—to just thrust into you a little harder.

But, feeling you quiver around his cock made Adrian think, 'Would it really be an issue if I came inside again?'. "Don't move, don't move."

Adrian was grinding up into you with the smallest hip movements he could do. He could feel the tip of his cock grazing against the most sensitive of parts. A broken whine would rip through your throat at the most minuscule thrust. Your nails dug into his bare back, leaving bright red marks amongst the old and new scars.

"Yes, yes," Adrian stammered. "Fuck.. Right there. You're so beautiful like this-you're always beautiful." At his words, you arched into him, pressing your body against his, as if you weren't close enough. "No—wait, shit. Don't do that, I-I'll cum. Just sit here, sit on top of me. I jus' wanna stay in you longer. Please, fuck, don't move."

He rambled, his words slurring on pleasure and a half-empty mind. He didn't even know what he was saying majority of the time. He just knew that, when he talked, he felt like he could last a little bit longer. A little bit longer, wrapped around your warmth, was all he needed.

Adrian felt your head bob up and down uselessly as a nod. His lips parted to let out a quiet puff of breath as he let his head fall, finding refuge in the crook of your neck.

You drooled a little on his shoulder, fingers clawing at his shoulder blades, just desperate to find something to grip onto and hold. Your mind was gone—melted to oblivion. All you could do was moan pathetically, your noises escaped your throat with a rasp. Dried tear tracks coated your cheeks, your eyelids feeling too heavy to keep open. But, God, you wanted to look at Adrian, even if it was the bruised skin of his neck.

"Jus' gonna keep-ah, shit..! Jus' gonna keep thrusting a little. Hold me, please. Keep holding onto me. Fuck, you're so cute. Thank you for letting me fuck you, thank you. I can't wait to cum in you. B-But, I gotta wait. Gotta wait, gotta wait."

His small thrusts gradually picked up the pace. His tip, which was just gently brushing against your cervix, was now repeatedly hitting your sweet spot relentlessly.

Adrian knew his words didn't match his movements. He knew he sounded silly, but he didn't care. He wanted to chase out one last orgasm from you. Just one more. "C'mon, baby. One more time—cum for me one more time. You got it. Please, cum for me. You feel so fucking good when you let go."

At his words, and the change of pace in his hips, you felt the last of your resolve get whisked away. Your shoulders dropped, though your thighs tightened around his waist.

Adrian felt your whole body twitched as you blessed him with one last orgasm for the night, your strained moan sounding like the sweetest music. He swore he could've came right there.

"Yea, yea," Adrian whispered, "There we fuckin' go. Cum around me just like that." He whined, attempting to talk you through it, but his voice was so shaky and weak, it hardly sounded real. "I'm gonna finish inside you again, okay? Just this last time. I'll try for one more time."

You felt Adrian grind into you with more pressure, his hands trailing down to your hips to push you against his. "Fuck.." He cried, tossing his head back against his headboard. "You make me feel so fuckin' good. I love you, I love you, I love you." Adrian rambled against your skin, his grinding becoming more and more erratic.

Instead of giving you a verbal warning, Adrian shoved his face into your neck, pressing his lips into your collarbone. His arms snaked back around you, holding you even closer, and even tighter. He cursed mentally as he reached his peak, filling you back up all over again, his cum spilling out of you.

As you both came down from the high, you noticed the light in the room began to filter through once more, you knew it wouldn't be the last time.

You push up behind him to rest back against the headboard, the sheets loosely covering you from the chest down, and the moment your hand falls away from him, you see him relax entirely again, shoulders slouching and untensing in an instant.

"Adrian, do you not like it when I touch you?"

The speed at which he flips over in bed and scrambles up to sit beside you, is immeasurable, making the headboard rattle against the wall again, much to your neighbours dismay, you're sure.

"What?! Why would you think that? Of course I like it when you touch me! Like when you touch my dick, or when you grab my ass, or when you pull my hair or when you put your finger in my—"

"Alright! I got it!" You cut him off, knowing that if you don't, he's just going to spend the next 10 minutes listing all the dirty stuff you do to him.

Adrian's lips purse together, trying to hold back the barrage of words that he hadn't gotten out yet. It's a feeble attempt.

"Butt! I was gonna say butt! I really like it when you do that!" He grins, stretching from ear to ear.

"I feel like that was implied, but okay?" You sigh, shifting your body to face him better. "I don't mean just sex stuff, baby, I mean like just now? While we were cuddling? You usually love it when I'm the big spoon?"

"I do love it when you're the big spoon!" Adrian protests, whining and throwing his hands up in the air dramatically. "I just don't like the whole, touchy-feely stuff? Like the stroking? I'm not a cat, and sometimes it feels like if you have a really prickly cactus touch graze you, that sensation, but over and over and over and over again!" It comes out like word vomit, without entirely meaning to and without any holds barred.

"Adrian" He hates that tone right there, that one that says you think he's being an idiot and you're about to chide him, it's the same one he heard when he suggested Chris load his gun with jellybeans and shoot it at his face to see if he can catch any in his mouth. "Why didn't you say anything, dummy?" Dummy is a step down from idiot, at least.

"Because I really like you and I don't want you to think I'm weird, because then you'll stop touching other parts of me and I won't get to kiss you every morning when I see you in the office and that's like, my favourite part of the day now! Apart from when Fluery quizzes me on spider facts when he's bored, so maybe it's like, joint first?"

His rambled explanation is a double-sided coin, on one hand you find yourself laughing at the inexplicable way that getting to kiss you is in competition with Fluery and spider facts, on the other, you find a twinge of sympathy for him when your chuckles begins to fade and you see the way he's looking at you like you hung the moon, silently pleading with those ridiculously effective puppy-dog eyes of his. There's that fear of rejection and abandonment, seeping out of every pore of his beautiful face.

"Adrian, honey, I don't know if you know this, but I'm well aware of the fact that you're a fucking weirdo." You state, matter-of-factly. "I love that about you! I just wish you'd told me sooner, I mean we've been dating for what? 2 months now—"

Before you can even finish your thought, Adrian is moving again, flinging himself over you with all the grace of a bulldozer traversing a minefield, all just to grab his phone on the bedside cabinet beside you.

"—64 days, 7 hours and 24 minutes, if we're being pedantic about it!"

This stupid, murderous golden retriever of a man has no idea what kind of hold he has over you.

"See! This is what I mean! No normal person would be keeping track of that!"

He clearly misunderstands your tone, given the way his expression drops again and how quickly he abandons his phone to hold your face in his hands instead, he really is trying to be gentle, even if those same hands have only become accustomed to inflicting pain and suffering.

"I swear, I'll change! I can change! I'll be good, I can totally do 'normal' if that's what you want me to be!" So needy and clingy, laying half on top of you, already prepared to roll off and get out of you give him the order to. He really hopes you don't, though.

"Adrian!" An exasperated sigh leaves deep from your chest. "Stop, I'm not saying I want you to be normal, I'm saying I like you just the way you are! And if you don't enjoy me touching you like that, then that's fine, I'm not going to dump you over that, you clearly have some sensory aversions to touch and that's okay!"

Green eyes rapidly blink at you as he tries to compute what you just said, as if you were speaking to him in Klingon.

"Soooo, you're not about to leave me and go find some boring insurance broker instead?"

"What?! No? How would you even come to that conclusion?" You argue, sputtering out an incredulous laugh over the sheer random absurdity he's just cooked up in his brain.

"Well I don't know! That's the most normal thing I can think of! And I'm sorry, but I'm never going to have a 401k and I think whiskey tastes like cough medicine! It burns! Beer doesn't burn on the way down!"

"Unless you chase it up with tequila." You interject, wriggling in the bed until you're laying directly under him, bringing your hand up to his head, burying your fingers in his sex-mussed curls to rake your nails across his scalp in that deep-pressure way he loves so much.

He's so deep into his ramble, he doesn't even realise he's just putty in your hands, tilting his head into your touch, craving the sensation and attention from you.

"Okay, point taken, but I bet Mr.Fancy-boring-broker-man doesn't have throwing knives! And I bet he doesn't even eat pussy! God, what a loser." A triumphant huff leaves him when he's finally done with competing with the imaginary man in his head, already busying himself with ducking his head down to plaster your jawline with needy little kisses, nudging your head back with the curve of his nose to gain better access.

"Total loser." You muse, relishing in the way he seems to have completely lost his train of thought in favour of turning all his attention on you instead, never really able to focus on the matter at hand for too long when his mind is constantly going on side-quests.

Adrian seems pleased that you agree with him about the broker, whom he's now mentally named Tom and has deemed him his mortal enemy all in one blink of an eye. The intensity of his lips on your throat ramps up, his hands getting grabby and greedy, feeling like they're all over your body all at once, his soft cock hanging between his thighs starting to twitch to life once more.

"Glad we're on the same page about that guy." He groans into the curve of your shoulder, working himself up already.

You know if you let him keep going he's just going to fuck you dumb all over again and you're going to forget to have this actual, important conversation with him, and even if you feel the heat between your legs rapidly becoming something you can't ignore, you need to have this talk.

When your legs wrap around his hips, Adrian lifts his head up to chase your lips with his own, not expecting you to turn the tide and roll both of you over until he's pinned beneath you, it takes him longer than it should to realise what just happened, and given that all his blood is currently rushing south, that's not entirely unreasonable.

"That's hot as fuck, babe!" Adrian's voice comes out in an excited chirp, willfully throwing his arms over his head into the pillows, waiting patiently for you to take the reins.

"As much as I appreciate the enthusiasm," You start, shifting to hover over his hips instead of sitting directly on top of him, biting back the smile you feel tugging at your lips when you hear him whine when you pull away. "I think we do still need to talk. I don't want you thinking you have to force yourself to like things just because you think it'll make me happy, that's not what people do in relationships, and I most definitely don't want you to be uncomfortable either."

"It's not that I don't like it! It's just… I'm not used to it, being soft or whatever. Having someone that wants to treat me like that. So yeah, it does kind of feel like sandpaper on my skin sometimes when you touch me like that, but I kind of love that you want to touch me like that anyway. Does that make any sense?"

"In the most Adrian Chase way," You cock your head to the side thoughtfully, tracking your eyes over his face. "It does make sense."

Adrian's dimples pop as he stares up at you. "See I knew you'd get it. C'mere?"

When he lifts his head off the pillow, expectantly puckering his lips, you're powerless to say no. Your mouth slants over his own, and you expect him to start up again with that feral eagerness that he usually embodies whenever the two of you are tangled up like this. Instead he's practicing patience, letting you set the pace and keep control, which you know is a big point of contention for Adrian.

You feel Adrian's hands land on your hips, and for once instead of pulling you down onto him, he guides you off, kneading at the supple curves beneath his fingertips as he helps you settle onto your side next to him.

You link your arms around his neck and bury your fingers in his hair once more, earning yourself a throaty hum that goes straight between your legs.

Adrian's cock nudges against your soft stomach, already half hard again. It's a welcomed perk of being with a man who's stamina can endure hours of fighting. Or fucking; depending on the mood.

As the intensity behind the kiss you lead starts to heat up, Adrian presses his body into your own, just enough to grind himself against you. He groans into your mouth as his twitching length rubs up and down slowly — from navel to your lower abs, leaving a damp trail behind on your skin that only grows slicker with every passing moment.

"Touch me." He whines, buckling at the hips. Too needy to let his lips stray from your own for even a single second.

Immediately you go to wrap a fist around his cock, but he stops you, catching your hand mid-air to plant it on the side of his face instead. It doesn't clock right away what Adrian's asking for, not until you feel the way he tenses beneath your palm. He wants to try to get used to the feeling, maybe some part of him that he's never explored craves it, but he's never been with someone he's wanted to expose himself to like tbat — until now.

You let your fingertips stroke along his jawline, it's something you've done plenty in the time you've been together, but now you're aware of his aversions, you're taking more care to show him how good it can feel.

Every quiet shuddering breath or tick in his jaw becomes your guide, mapping out his cues to tell you when you're being too gentle.

It quickly becomes apparent that there's a fine line between touch that makes him cringe and touch that makes him melt. You only wish Adrian had communicated this with you sooner, rather than try to force himself.

Caressing his chest, between his shoulder blades, downwards over the slope of his spine. You get to revel in the way Adrian bows into you as he gradually succumbs to the warmth your touch leaves behind in its wake.

You're both breathless when you wrench your lips away from his own, his cheeks flushed, pupils swallowing the green in his eyes.

"This okay?" You don't want to just rely on his physical cues now, not when he'd been so reluctant to express himself before.

Adrian's hips haven't stopped their subtle shift this entire time, the thick purple head glistening with pre-cum.

"Mm-hmm," He nods frantically, ridding you of any creeping doubts. "F-uck babe. Can I please touch you now too?"

The corners of your lips curve upwards, Adrian has kept his hands cemented to your hips until now, and you realise it was to keep himself from moving too hastily.

Draping your thigh over his own, you invitingly open yourself up to him. "Touch me." Your tone echoes that needy lilt Adrian had before.

His dominant hand slips between your bodies, making your head drop back into the plush pillow with a sigh when his middle and index fingers find your clit, grazing back and forth over the engorged nub slowly.

"Fucking soaked," Adrian curses, dropping his head to mouth at your sternum, sliding his free hand up to the small of your back to hold you tighter against him. "N-nails. Do that thing where you scratch down my back."

You're all too happy to fulfill the breathy request, embedding the manicured tips into his alabaster skin; drawing a slow path of red streaks down the length of his muscled back.

The mattress springs beneath you protest as Adrian arcs, loudly groaning his approval over the way you're blending a lighter touch with the agonizing bliss.

"Just like that." He pleads, rocking his hips more insistently against you, letting his fingers glide south, easing them into your warm cunt.

You squirm on your side, chasing the friction the heel of his palm provides as his digits find their home inside you, pumping in and out in a steady, tantalizing rhythm.

You can hear the slick squelch of yourself, between the airy whines and murmured begs, some of it slipping from your own lips, some of it from Adrian, panting between your tits. Neither of you truly know what you're asking for, all you know is that you don't want this to stop.

Adrian's teeth graze over your heaving breast, restraining himself from sinking them into your skin, instead sucking a stiffened peak into his mouth; coaxing a wanton moan out of you.

Your fingers instinctively find their way to his ass, letting your nails mark his toned cheeks too. You guide his hips to roll deeper, feeling every inch of him sliding between your slick bodies while you unhurriedly fuck yourself on the fingers buried inside you.

It's not long before you begin to crest, arching and shaking while Adrian laves his lips and tongue over your nipples back and forth. There's nothing urgent about the way he pulls this climax from you, not like the usual frantic and fast desperation he exudes.

This time Adrian savours every second of it — from the rasping breaths you shudder out as you reach the peak, to the way your thigh shakes when your pussy clenches down and drenches his fingers.

His hips stutter as if he's struggling to hold back from cumming, and truthfully, he is. It's especially difficult to hold back with the way your heat drips down his knuckles and that keening way you call out his name.

Still, he's not done trying to prove to himself that he has the ability to be soft and slow, you deserve that version of him when he's never been able to give himself like that to anyone else.

It wasn't up until Adrian started up the Vigilante stuff that he lost his virginity, and even then, most of the suit would stay on just so he didn't have to endure the touch of skin on skin that would make him wither. Always rough with his lovers. If you could even call them that.

It was usually an anonymous hook-up from that app Peacemaker recommended. Some lucky person would find themselves wedged between the closest thing Evergreen had to a 'hero' and an unforgiving brick wall, pounded into it just so Adrian could take the edge off.

All that started to crumble when Adrian took a shining to you though.

The app got deleted off his phone and Adrian had to learn to navigate something new.

Sure, it's been a very full two months of losing yourselves in each other, testing out just how much the desks at the office can take when no one was around. Fucking you so relentlessly in the back of the Sebring that the suspension broke and the two of you had to push the car to the nearest garage on your lunch hour while his cum was still leaking out of you.

That was a fun when the mechanics eyed the both of your dishelved appearances with a knowing suspicion, and when you'd let Adrian take the reins at trying to explain to Ads and Harcourt why you were coming back late from your break.

It went down like a lead balloon when 'chasing down some sketchy looking dude' was all Adrian could come up with under pressure. That and the telltale blooming lovebites that you thought you'd been strategic enough to hide beneath his collar.

Even so, somehow you've dismantled that fear of intimacy and touch that Adrian had developed somewhere along the way, and now it was giving way to a gentleness he didn't even know he possessed.

When you're fully sated and boneless, Adrian slips his fingers out of you and stuffs them into his mouth as he raises his head, letting you witness the way his eyes roll back at your taste.

"Fuck me." You hear yourself plea, raising your hands up to link around the back of his neck, drawing Adrian in for a kiss that forces him to drop his fingers from his mouth, making his head spin.

By now he'd have you flipped over, either on your belly or your back, ready to drill you into the mattress until you're a babbling mess.

It's impossible for him to say no to you though, hoisting your leg up higher over his hip while he wraps his other hand around the base of his cock, nudging the weeping tip into you in a way that's uncharacteristicly hampering compared to the lunging thrust he'd gone with earlier on this evening.

Adrian's fingertips skirt over the back of your thigh. Up and down, soothing a sigh out of you as you stretch to fit around his girth.

"Ho-oly fuck, babe." He rasps against your lips, letting his free hand wander up to your breasts again, fondling and squeezing lightly.

You suckle on his bottom lip as the two of you start to move, rolling your hips in tandem with his own, impeded from speeding yourself up by the steadying hand grasping the meat of your thigh.

Languid, dragged out strokes steal your breath away, sharing the heated air between your panting mouths. Noses nudge and softly bump while Adrian stares into your eyes, jaw slackened as he breathes out your name over and over again.

He'll push deep and pull out slow, leaving only the first inch inside you before he allows himself to sink in, overwhelmed by the sensation of your welcoming walls pulling him in.

It's not something Adrian usually gets to bask in, but right now he can feel every honeyed inch of your channel wrapped around his cock, letting himself gently kiss your cervix with the tip.

When a gasp spills from youAdrian panics and almost pulls out altogether, thinking he's doing it wrong. You only just manage to stop him by locking your ankle around his lower back.

"Are you okay?" Adrian sputters out, stilling himself inside you, eyes darting between your own, all tooth-achingly sweet concern.

"Baby, I'm fine?" You huff softly, delighting his ears with a quiet chuckle. "That was a good gasp, trust me."

"Are you sure? You're not just saying that? What if you decide to praying mantis me because I did something wrong?"

"Huh?"

Adrian rolls his eyes, idly thumbing over your nipple. "Like when a female mantis is done mating she'll bite off her partners head?"

You purse your lips together to stifle a laugh, choking it down before replying, "That's probably the first correct animal fact I've ever heard from you and it's during sex?! Also, I'm a little fond of your face and the body it's attached to, so I think I'll pass, thanks."

"Pfft, like your mind doesn't wander sometimes, and I'm always correct." He pouts petulantly, shifting himself all the way back into you with a subtle jut of his hips. "And only a little fond?" His lips arc into a stretching smile when you moan, it's the most intoxicating sound Adrian has ever heard.

"A-alot. I love your stupidly handsome face, okay?"

Love.

It's not like you were declaring anything to him then and there, but with the way the comforting warmth spreads through Adrian's chest, anyone would think you did just that.

He's been tip-toeing that word for years. The only people that have ever said it to him were his parents and that one old lady at Fennel Fields who used to come in for the early bird special that kept mistaking him for her high-school boyfriend. She was a good tipper, even if Adrian was constantly having to dodge a cheek smooch whenever he went to clear her table and he's haunted by the memory of the filthy note she'd left for him on a napkin that one time.

Adrian's concept of love just barely existed, and it was solely based off fictional media. He was never sure it was a feeling he was capable of, but now you're making him question that — almost every single day.

Sure he loves his best friends, he loves Eagly. He loves how it feels to watch the light drain from someone's eyes at his hands.

This though? This is different.

His hand wraps around your ankle, pulling it up a little higher behind his back, opening you up in a way that allows for your clit to grind into the thatch of curls at the base of his cock.

The headboard knocks, but it's quieter and infrequent now, side-on, drinking each other's morphing expressions of pleasure in,

Adrian's plants his palms flat on your ass, pushing you forward onto his cock over and over again as your vocalizations rise in volume and pitch, groaning with you as you tug on the curly ends of his hair.

"Adrian, I need to—" Your warning cry is smothered, eager lips tackling your own as he gives in and rolls you beneath him, plunging deep repeatedly just to coax that gentle pulsing around him into a frenzied clutch as your back bows. It was the nudge you'd needed, if the sticky slick that makes a mess of his pubic hair is anything to go by.

Adrian cums seconds after you, emptying himself inside you as he whimpers into your agape mouth, unable to withstand the unforgiving pulse and heat of your pussy.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, winding your arms around his middle when he slumps into you, dropping his mouth to your throat to pepper lazy kisses all over.

Despite the way Adrian prefers to fuck, he's always like this after — clingy and dopey. It's a moment of blissful peace that neither of you get to bask in very often.

And it's broken by your jerk off neighbour throwing a hissy fit again.

Bang. Thud. Bang. Thud.

Slamming his fucking door open and shut in protest.

"Seriously?" You grumble, chancing a glance at the bedside clock to see that maybe his grievence is justified given the late hour blinking back at you.

Before you can even stop him, Adrian is scrambling off you, leaving you feeling empty all of a sudden. You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him hunt for his jeans in the scattered mess of clothes on your bedroom floor as the wet patch beneath your ass spreads over the sheets.

"What are you doing?"

"Noise disturbance babe!" Adrian exclaims as he shoves his foot into one of the legs, struggling to keep balance on the other foot, his red streaked ass jiggling as he hops around. "Someone's gotta go talk to the guy, set him straight. There are laws about that kinda thing!"

The manic grin on his face tells you he has more plans for Jeff in 2B than a quiet talking to.

"Adrian." You warn, flopping back into the pillows, exasperated and sleepy.

"It'll just take a sec, I swear!" He lies blatently, tugging his shirt on over his head back to front before swiping up his glasses.

You're too tired and fucked out to stop him.

Hopefully Jeff has more common sense than to open his door at this time of night. If not, you can only pray that it won't look too suspicious when Jeff suddenly ups and leaves to go on an extended vacation to the middle of Alaska; or wherever his inevitable 'goodbye' note will claim he's gone.

You're on the cusp of drifting off when you remember the baseball bat you keep by your front door, groggily calling out to Adrian as he attempts to creep out.

"Leave the bat, dummy!"

"Awh, man."

═════════════════════════════════

"Dude, get a room." Economos laments, shielding his eyes with a hand when Adrian bounds over to your desk just to plant a sweet kiss to your lips while there's a little down time.

Adrian frowns, barely lifting his head to throw him a look of utter confusion over the low partition between your desks. "We're literally in a room right now? And I did technically pay for this place, so if you really think about it—"

Economos interjects before Adrian can go off on a tangent, "It's a turn of phrase, dumbass. I meant take that somewhere else before I barf up my cheerios onto my desk or something."

"Ohhhh! I knew that."

"Bullshit." John mutters, burying his head in his computer to avoid making direct eye contact with the overly-affectionate public display.

You grin up at Adrian from your chair as his hands find your shoulders, allowing yourself to relax when he starts to massage gently. "He's right though, if we had a HR department, I think we would have been written up at least 5 times this morning already." Your hand drifts away from the keyboard to pat his own. "C'mon, lover boy, get your ass back to your desk."

"Fine." He relents, pouting the entire way back to his own workstation.

Adrian's cheeks have barely touched the seat when a new email notification pops up in the bottom right hand corner of his screen from you.

Subject: Meet me in 5.

Supply closet. John said get a room, and I don't think we've tested out the acoustics in there yet. Let's hope it's sound proof.

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