[Note: Letter in italic will be Oliver Thredson. Without Italic letter will be Mary Eunice]
It was late of night, and finally the youngest nun of Briarcliff had a moment of peace, bed time, where she would peeling herself of that thick, loose habit, and hear some music of jazz song. Lost in her mind, guess who she founds in her bedroom ? Oliver Thredson. Fuck! She need to think something to get rid of him easily from there. In the silence she closed the door behind of her, locked it with the keys, and giving a few steps in front of Thredson. "What are you doing in my bedroom? Also, I think, I let clear our last conversation about kids. I really hope you not here for that."
She sat on her dressing table, taking off her veils, revealing the beautiful silky, glossy, light golden hair of herself, and unbuttoned her habit. They had fuck occasionally, but without his knowledge, she's taking care of herself for not get pregnant. He can fuck with her without condoms, but she wasn't sure if her methods were working. "In a few weeks your child will born, Oliver. Miss Winters will name him of John." She turned her face to him, with a please smile spread on her rosy lips.
Oliver gave a small roll of his eyes, ignoring her complaints for the time being. Mary knew what sleeping with him would entail, had she not silently agreed to bare his children, she shouldn't push intimacy upon him in the way that she did. Oliver wasn't a man who often indulged in pleasure- at least, not of the sexual variety. He got off on the thrill of the hunt, the spilling of blood, and the basic human instinct of lust lied dormant within him. The need to procreate- however- burned in the pit of his stomach.
Yes, Lana would be giving birth to his offspring soon. Though Oliver would be lying to say that he wasn't thrilled at the notion of being a father, it would be a joke to say that he held the same feelings for Lana that he used to. He wanted her dead, writhing in a pool of her own blood. The reporter had betrayed him, in the utmost of ways. That would not do. Oliver gave her his intimacy, and that was not something he took lightly. Once the child was born, he would give her enough time to nurse the infant, and then he would be done with her. Oliver would get rid of Lana for good. He looked forward to spread her ashes across the Massachusetts state line.
"John. What a dull name," Oliver sighed, strolling over and trailing the pads of his fingertips along the dark wood of her dresser. "You seem rather cheerful about the news. Lana should go into labor any day now, Sister. Though, I must confess, it isn't her that I wish to bore my child." The words were soft- careful. The slight lilt to them only enhanced by the cock of his eyebrow.
"You seem displeased by my presence, yet you've already begun undressing." Oliver did love that flaxen hair of hers, as gold as wheat, and vibrant as the sun. A golden halo surrounding that dark, twisted mind of the nun's. A picturesque representation of black and white. An image of pure perfection, in Oliver's eyes. "You are taunting me, aren't you?"
"Maybe." She snapped back at him, as she take the rest of her habit, staying only with a silky babydoll, that was beneath under that habit. She opened the drawer, and picked a small velvet box, and open it slowly seeing the beautiful rubies earrings, and wearing it. "I think, you should let Lana put the baby's name. After all she's carrying it for months. Kind of, fair if this kid would have your last name, Oli. So, what you think?" She referring the rubies she was wearing at the moment, and looking at Thredson behind of the reflection from the mirror. She is wondering why is he in her bedroom late of night if she won't give what he wants.
"Doctor Arden, have a good taste to please a woman." She referring the small gifts he has been giving to her, even though they never really consumed their relationship. She gave him a chance once but he refused. Since then she doesn't want to give any more chance. He lose it. And Monsignor? She occasionally fuck him, to drive him insane, which this is exactly what she wants. About Oliver? They're not even dating anyway, which in that case she feels free enough to do what she wants to do when she wants to do.
Removing the ring from her ring finger, same ring that all nuns has to proof they're married with God. She take off her shoes, staying only with her black hold up stockings. Yes, she's playing with him, making herself of harder to get. "Do you miss me, Oli? My, my last time you made quite tantrum."
Oliver's gaze darkened, his hues locked on those damned ruby earrings of hers. She was wearing them just to taunt him, Oliver knew it well. For all the pleasure Sister Mary gave him, it balanced out with how infuriated she made him as well. Thredson loved a good chase, and loved a good game, but once he'd chosen a woman to love, he had no intentions of sharing. Mary was treading on a line she ought to know better than to try and traverse.
After all, Oliver could always just kill her, couldn't he?
No, he wouldn't. Not a nun, not the woman who gave her body to him, coddled him like a child. Oliver would never harm her- but that didn't mean he couldn't think about it. That skin of hers was soft, it looked even more supple surrounded by cascading silk. It was intoxicating.
Perhaps Mary hadn't taken their relationship so seriously- but Oliver, to him, he'd already made the commitment to her. He was tenacious, and his stick to itness had served him well over the years. Mary wouldn't break him, no matter how much she teased him.
As she mentioned his tantrum, Oliver tensed. His shoulders knotted together as his forehead creased. Yes, perhaps he had over-reacted when she told him that she had no intentions of carrying his child. However, he had learned his lesson. If she wasn't going to agree to do so, he could always continue scheming to get his way.
Oliver Thredson always got what he wanted. Always.
"Miss you? Of course," Oliver mused, keeping a cool, level-headed demeanor as he drew closer to her. Dark eyes were locked onto the lacy strap of her baby-doll night grown, admiring the material against her smooth, soft skin. He imagined that it felt heavenly. "Tell me, Sister, have you missed me as well? Or are you finding comfort in the arms of that Nazi doctor you seem so fond of?"
"You're jealous, I can tell." She turned her face to look straight at his eyes with a smug smile spread on her rosy lips. Ok, she was enjoying it… She put her fingertips onto his lips, and caressing slowly, parted his lips,and grabbed his face pushing it so close to her face that she is able to feel his breath on her skin, her own breath mixing with his, her own lips basically brushing against his. "Maybe or maybe no. Who knows ?" Her voice sounds nearly as a whisper, and a bit raspy for in fact she was being aroused. The tip of her nose rest against his, and yet a wicked smile appearing in that angelic features she has.
She pulled away from his face, feeling her own heart thumping in her own ears, as she picked the brush, and brushing her longs light golden hair, and her fringes, her hair has a slightly curls on the end of it, and looking at herself again on the mirror, watching and noticing the proximity of Thredson. She wanted to know if he was able to catch her by force.
"You should me leave me alone." She mused while she brushing her hair, humming a random song, and admiring her own image in the mirror. Feeling really hot, this is when the narcissism moment turn on in Mary, the moment that she wasn't pay attention in anything around her… Unless something really distracts her. "I'm tired, Oliver. Not today." Nor tomorrow, nor day after tomorrow. She wants him but at the same time she didn't want him because she knew exactly what's his intention.