He called you "partner" to those Russian hunters, but you weren't sure of what he meant by that. For you, Chris Argent was a lonely hunter carrying the world on his shoulders, like yourself, besides the young age. You sighed, walking the older man towards his car, noticing a strange atmosphere around you, like a heavy silence that he is trying to break.
— Why did you call me partner back there? — You asked, a little concerned when he simply stares the wheel. You can see his chest going up when he takes a deep breath and his ice blue eyes burn your face.
— Because I'm lonely. — His voice is low, sad. — And I have no one left to say this. My wife is gone… Allisson is gone… I can't do that with Scott or the others because they aren't like me… But you are. You're not just a average kid in a middle of a supernatural storm, you're a hunter. And was raised like one.
You look at him, absorbing the impact of his words, and how they actually make sense to you… And you smile at him, in a gentle way.
— You're right, Mr Argent. I think we are partners and… I learned a long time ago that hunters always need backup.
Chris smiles back, but you notice something else. You can feel his hand on your knee and the ice blue eyes looking for any kind of rejection that never showed up. You like his touch, the way his fingers press your thigh firmly, the way you would picture someone with a considerable experience would do.
His hand starts to search in your body, passing firmly on your waist, your breast and suddenly is on the back of your neck, caressing your hair slowly. You shiver and he smiles, pressing his pinky finger on your lips.
Your face is bright red and you can notice how dark his eyes became when you pressed a gentle kiss on his finger.
— Oh God… — He whispers.
— God has nothing to do with that,… Chris. — You giggled before sitting on his lap staring right at him. His hands go straight to your waist and you shiver, closing your eyes when his lips came slowly on your neck.
It's intense, especially because he is so slow and gentle, marking every inch of your skin with his lips, using tongue from time to time. His hands are firmly around your waist and you let a low moan come out with your hot and heavy breath.
He laughs, pressing his lips on your chin.
— I would love to go on with that. — He says. — But not here.
— Agree. — You giggled, leaving his lap so you can sit again on the other seat of the black car. And you smile.
Smile because his hand is back to your knee and you can tell this trip back to Beacon Hills will be very pleasant.