Charlie was winding down the week, having just arrived at her favorite bar for a few drinks and some conversation and flirtation with a random guy or two. Taking her drink from the bartender, she giggled at a joke he told her as he handed it over. Then, she looked across the room, and her laughter died quickly.
A pair of light eyes was watching her with such intensity, they sparked like flames across the crowded, smoky bar. Not bothering to say goodbye to the man she'd been talking to, she made her way over to him. Monroe.
It had been over a year since she'd last seen him. He and her uncle Miles had disagreed about the best way to handle the nanites' taking over some small town in the Plains Nation. Specifically, Miles thought they should stay the hell away. Monroe thought they should bring the fight to the nanites, and he had left them to do exactly that.
The night he'd left… Charlie's stomach turned over just thinking about it, as it always did.
She and Monroe had been alone, standing outside the farmhouse in Willoughby. She'd been asking him about his plans once he got to the small town of nanite-people. How he planned to attack, who would help him, how he as just one man really thought he could stand a chance.
"I know you have some kind of God complex," Charlie had snarked. "But really, Monroe, try not to get yourself killed."
Monroe stepped closer to her, and Charlie felt her heart beat faster as he invaded her personal space. "Nice to know you care whether I live or die."
She rolled her eyes, but inexplicably felt them fill with tears, too. "Yeah. Guess so," she said shortly, trying to hide the thickness in her voice. What the hell was wrong with her?
Perceptive as always, Monroe's brow creased with concern at her emotional reaction. "I'll be fine," he reassured her. "And you know you can still come with me."
Charlie shook her head. "I agree with Miles. I think the best way to deal with these nanites is to stay the hell away from them as much as possible."
"So then it's goodbye come morning," Monroe said, his voice low, still standing close enough to touch Charlie.
"Yeah," Charlie whispered, staring up into his eyes, flicking her eyes briefly to his lips. She swore she could feel his breath on her skin, they were so close all of a sudden.
And then he'd kissed her. All of it happened so fast, like an explosion. His hand was behind her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. She grasped his shoulders for support as her legs threatened to give out and his tongue plunged into her mouth. God, he tasted so good. And his body was so hot and strong against hers. She pressed into him, and a groan tore from his throat. Bass used his free arm to pull her tighter into his body.
On and on the kiss spun, and then just as suddenly, he released her. Holding his face just a few inches from hers, breathing raggedly, he said, "Goddamnit, Charlie. Come with me."
"No," she replied simply, somewhat defiantly, unable to help herself. If he wanted her, he could damn well stay in Texas, where they could protect each other.
Instead, he walked away. And left in the morning, just like he'd said he would.
Now, a year later, here he was. Just sitting in her local neighborhood bar. Charlie had had no idea Monroe was in town. Truthfully, she hadn't known until this moment that he was still alive. Sure, she'd heard about the collapse of the nanite-drone army, the liberation of the people who had been possessed. The nanites seemed to have moved into a more dormant posture and didn't directly interfere with humans anymore, though of course the lights were still off. And there were those who said that former dictator General Monroe was to blame. To thank. Whichever.
Still, the sight of Monroe here was confirmation that he was okay, confirmation that Charlie hadn't even let herself acknowledge she'd been desperately hoping for. Charlie made herself move deliberately but slowly across the bar, not to knock people over in her haste to see him, to touch him.
And finally, she was beside him. Monroe looked up at her, not trying to pretend he hadn't seen her coming. Charlie knew him well enough to know he'd been there for a while, drinking. He had that slightly hazy, lightened air about him. The air in the bar was thick with heat and humidity, and a few curls stuck to his forehead with moisture. His chest glistened with sweat.
"You're alive," Charlie said, still standing over him.
"Yeah," he confirmed, just looking at her, waiting for more.
"Mind if I sit?"
He scooted further back into the corner of the small booth in response, and she plopped down next to him. They were close enough that she could feel the warmth coming off his jean-clad leg, his shoulder next to hers. She turned to face him, pulling one leg up in front of her, between them.
For a few long moments, they just stared at each other, communicating without words. Charlie felt her throat closing up with emotion again. Damnit. Only this man had that effect on her. She hated it, yet at the same time, it felt right. "Wasn't sure if I'd ever see you again," she finally choked out.
"Same." Apparently, Monroe was not in a chatty mood, but he never took his gaze off Charlie, seemingly drinking her in with his eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Charlie asked.
At that, Monroe's stoic expression broke, and he quirked one corner of his mouth into a half-smile and turned away from her to have a sip of his whiskey. As he lowered the glass back to the table, still not looking at her, and said, "Came back for you. Of course."
Charlie's breath caught at that. "You came back," she repeated softly, echoing the words she'd said to him in a school, what felt like a lifetime ago.
Obviously, Monroe remembered, too, because he met her eyes with the same expression he had that day. Equal parts apology, understanding, fear, need… passion. He reached his right hand out and put it on her thigh that was extended out on the bench between them, lightly squeezing her there. Her body reacted immediately, nipples tingling to hardness, moisture pooling in her core. Charlie looked down at where his hand rested on her leg, and she gasped in shock.
Grabbing his hand in both of hers, she pulled it up to examine it. Monroe's knuckles and the back of his hand were covered in an intricate tattoo. Dark flames wound over and around his hand, giving the image of it being engulfed in fire.
"Jesus, Monroe," Charlie exclaimed, unable to help herself. "When did you get this done?"
He shrugged. "Started it right after I left. Been adding to it for awhile."
"What the hell does it mean?" she demanded. A man like him didn't get a tattoo just for looks.
"It's a reminder," he said shortly.
"Of?" she prompted him impatiently, not about to let him get away with being so vague.
"That when you play with fire, you usually get burned." His low voice was laden with meaning, and he wouldn't look at her. Instead he removed his hand from hers and put it back on her leg, closer to the juncture of her thighs this time. "Any other questions?" he asked, as he traced his thumb along the inner seam of her jeans.
"Just one," Charlie said sarcastically, but then her bravado quickly slipped away. "What are you doing?" she asked, hating how scared she sounded, how nervous she felt.
"Something I've been wanting to do for the last year," he replied, reaching his other hand up and cupping her cheek, then leaning in and kissing her.
And then Charlie wasn't scared anymore. She felt like she could cry with relief, it felt so right. His warm hand on her thigh, his lips against hers, moving gently but urgently to deepen the kiss. They were in a dark corner of the bar, but they could have been in the middle of church for all Charlie cared. Monroe—Bass—was here. He was back, he was with her, he was kissing her, as if the year since the last time he did it had never happened at all.
Charlie arched into Bass, wanting to feel her body against his, and he pulled her onto his lap, shoving the small table a few more inches away with his foot to give her space. Charlie eagerly straddled him, pressing the V of her legs into the hardness between his thighs.
Bass' hand grasped her ass, while the other moved over her back, grabbing her waist, pushing up under her shirt to stroke her skin there. Charlie ran her hands over his strong chest, enjoying the leverage of being on top of him, kissing him fervently, with all the angst and worry and loneliness of the past year coming out in her desperation to be close to him.
Finally, after a few minutes, Bass shifted underneath her, pulling away slightly. Charlie looked down at him, assuming she knew what he was thinking. "The whole town can see us," she commented with a grin.
"Don't give a fuck about them," Bass said, shifting his hips into hers. Charlie bent to kiss him again, and he stilled her by putting his hands on her arms.
Once again, Charlie was briefly distracted by the intricate black patterns racing over his right hand, but she asked, "What, then?"
"The things I want to do to you, I can't do here," Bass said, his voice halfway to a growl. "So let's go."
He had a room at the boarding house in town, strategically located just a few minutes from the bar. They walked the distance in silence, in a hurry, not wishing to slow their progress with more making out or – God forbid – conversation.
Bass keyed open the door to the house and confidently led Charlie down the hall to his room. Opening that door, he stepped aside to let her in first. She stepped into the room, which was of course dark except for a small amount of bluish moonlight coming through the gauzy curtains.
Charlie heard the door close, then felt Bass' presence, strong and warm behind her. He pressed himself into her back, and she arched her ass into him, eager to pick up where they'd left off. In response, Bass ran his hands around her hips, then up her stomach and further, cupping her breasts. He pulled her close to him, wrapping her in his arms.
Twisting around, Charlie craned her neck to kiss him, and Bass met her halfway, kneading her breasts, pressing his hardness into her backside. Still kissing her, he moved his hands back down to work the fly of her jeans open and shoved them halfway down her hips. Charlie wiggled the rest of the way out of them and kicked them off. Now half-naked, Charlie whimpered against his lips, and as she took a ragged breath, moaned, "Bass."
That seemed to snap something inside him, as he quickly walked her forward and pushed her down onto the bed. Charlie gasped slightly as she landed on her front, catching herself with her hands, finding herself quickly pinned down by Bass' body on top of hers. She heard him undo his pants, too, and felt him shifting on top of her. Then, she felt the hot, hard flesh of his cock between her slightly spread thighs. Her body quaked with need and anticipation as he stilled above her for a moment.
Then, he was pulling her hair to the side and kissing along the side of her neck. Charlie closed her eyes in bliss at the sensation of his soft lips, contrasted with his hardness elsewhere else. "Fuck, I want you so bad," he rasped into her ear. "For so fucking long."
Charlie was panting slightly, and when Bass bit down on a sensitive spot on her neck, she cried out involuntarily, her need for him suddenly overwhelming. "Then take me," she urged desperately. "Goddamnit, I need…" Her voice trailed off into another breathy sigh of pleasure as she felt Bass' cock moving against her aroused folds.
She spread her thighs as wide as she could beneath him and felt him working his hips against her, lining his cock up with her drenched opening. "Need this?" Bass demanded as he pushed the tip inside her, his body coiled with tension. "Need me?"
"Fuck, yes, Bass, yes," Charlie cried, trying to impale herself further on him. At her words, he surged forward, filling her completely.
Charlie wailed with the sheer overwhelming pleasure of it. His size, his length, him, finally, buried deep inside her. She felt tears of relief and ecstasy gathering in her eyes as Bass began to move, working his slick cock in and out of her expertly, penetrating her core.
She felt completely dominated, hardly able to move beneath him as he fucked her, alternating between fast and passionate and slow and deliberate. Finally, he reached his hand beneath her and rubbed against her clit, too, and in a matter of seconds, Charlie felt the tension building in her nerve endings as her orgasm built. She exploded around his cock, her muscles tensing and spasming as she came.
Once she'd ridden out her high, she felt Bass withdraw from her and move off of her. Concerned, she rolled over with a slight frown on her face, only to look up and see him kneeling on the bed, gazing down on her with an intense look. He had his tattooed hand wrapped around his cock, stroking lightly.
"What?" Charlie asked, somewhat nervously. Had she done something to turn him off?
Seeming to understand the direction of her thoughts—didn't he always?—he stretched himself out on top of her again, supporting his weight with his arms. "Nothing. You're perfect. I just… I want to be looking at you when I come."
Charlie's heart stuttered at that, and she groaned with satisfaction as Bass plunged into her again. He kissed her hard and pounded into her, moving quickly. Charlie felt his movements growing jerkier, his cock growing stiffer inside of her. Bass started making low, animalistic grunting sounds as he fucked her into the mattress.
She sensed he was close, and she wrapped her legs around him in a nonverbal signal. Stay. Bass needed absolutely no encouragement, and he moved inside her with reckless abandon, chasing his own climax. His eyes met hers at the last second, then he closed them in ecstasy as he groaned with utter satisfaction, slamming his pelvis into Charlie one final time as he came. Charlie felt Bass pumping his seed deep inside of her, felt a sense of utter bliss as he finished inside her.
As his orgasm subsided, Bass collapsed on top of Charlie, his open mouth hot and wet on her neck as he breathed heavily. She wrapped her arms around him, lightly stroking the muscles of his back. Bass hummed with contentment and rolled partway onto his side, pulling her along with him.
Charlie glanced up and met Bass' eyes, which were trained on her with a slight question in them. Charlie smiled. "Hope that was worth coming back for," she said lightly, knowing that if she let him, Bass would get into his own head about what had just happened between them.
Bass cracked a smile, too, but said seriously, "I'd walk through hell and back for you, Charlie." A pause, then he added, "So I guess I can handle Willoughby."
Charlie nodded and rested her head on his chest, savoring the sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear. She didn't plan to ask him if she could stay. As far as she was concerned, she wasn't going anywhere.
A/N: After listening to the song "Problem," I became slightly obsessed with the idea of Bass with knuckle tattoos. That plus The Good Ship Charloe's "One Year" challenge resulted in this fic. Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading! This fandom is awesome, and I love to contribute.