Needs (or Sebastian Monroe's thoughts on Darwinism)

by SciFiDVM

Because ever since the Tower, whenever the smoke clears, the dust settles, or the person holding the weapon on her drops dead to the ground in front of her, he is the one left standing there. Charloe. Set starting after 2x09. PWP.

1. Natural Selection

Title: Needs (or "Sebastian Monroe's thoughts on Darwinism")
Fandom: Revolution
Rating: M (E)
Spoilers: Through 2x09 (Everybody Says I Love You)
Pairings: Charlie Matheson / Sebastian Monroe (Charloe)
Disclaimer: This is purely for entertainment and I make no money from this. Revolution and all the characters are the property of other people. I'm just borrowing them.
Summary: Because ever since the Tower, whenever the smoke clears, the dust settles, or the person holding the weapon on her drops dead to the ground in front of her, he is the one left standing there.
A/N: Cross-post from AO3 (for the few Charloe fans on Earth that haven't read this yet over there). I held off on posting this one here because of the rating. The first chapter was my first ever attempt at PWP. Apparently I have some kind of knack for it, because this thing just about blew up AO3, and I had to continue it. This is basically my fanfic magnum opus at this point, so I figured if there is a fic to get me kicked off this site for violating the ratings rules, this might as well be it. Enjoy the smut.

Needs - Natural Selection

Charlie was well aware that she wasn't like other girls her age any more. Her fantasies didn't involve some prince saving her from all this. Her fantasies were… darker. Especially now. She'd grown accustomed to being a soldier, to the fighting. Depending on the opponent, whether or not she came out on top, and how primal the attack, the fighting itself could even be a turn on. Being rescued? Not so much. It was embarrassing. It meant she failed. Rescues were for damsels, and she's no damsel. She's a Matheson.

Though someone apparently needed to explain that fact to her hormone addled body. Her underwear was sticking uncomfortably to the curls and the sensitive skin below as they dragged an unconscious Miles away from the schoolhouse and back toward Willoughby. The copious amount of increasingly viscous material coating her nether region was an irritating reminder of the extent of her earlier unbidden arousal. Why did he have to come back and save her? Why did he always have to be the one to save her?"

The good news was that there didn't seem to be a Patriot left alive in the entire town. They figured it wouldn't stay that way long, but they needed to get Miles help and regroup. They arrived at the Porter homestead just in time to find the patriarch making a break for it with a bundle of his belongings. When all the Patriots holding him captive had burst into flames, he'd decided it was his chance to make a break for it. Seeing the state of his daughter's extended family at his doorstep, he gladly agreed to stay and treat Miles.

So everyone was downstairs, helping, hovering, making it just a little too claustrophobic. Charlie, with Gene's assurances that Miles should be ok with IV fluids and antibiotics, had finally retreated to her upstairs bedroom to ease the congestion in the makeshift ICU. The smell of burnt flesh still permeated her clothing and she began stripping it off to change into something not coated in human ash. She poured some water from a pitcher on the nightstand onto a washcloth and attempted to wipe the remains from her body before redressing. She pulled on a new bra and tank top before addressing her lower extremities. After all the ash and grime were gone, she ran the washcloth between her legs. The delicate tissues were still unnecessarily tender. Too much arousal without the satisfaction of release. With the next pass of the washcloth she applied a little more pressure. A soft moan formed in the back of her throat and died on her lips. Familiar memories, the ones brought out in the quiet moments when she was alone, began to surface in her mind

She shook the thoughts from her head and put the washcloth on the nightstand. She shouldn't be doing this. Miles was downstairs, possibly dying. Yeah, she wasn't not an idiot. This wouldn't be the first time that "the grown-ups" had lied to her. She pulled on a clean pair of cotton underwear and grabbed a pair of jeans from the closet. She let the anger at her dysfunctional family clear her mind. She'd seen the way her mother reacted to Miles's imperilment. There was more to it than they'd ever felt the need to tell her. She sat on the bed and began to pull the jeans on. They had no problem lying to her. None of them did. Except… him. She paused before pulling the jeans up over her hips.

Those special memories began playing through her mind again, her post-blackout equivalent of one of those dirty magazines Danny had found somewhere and hidden under his bed when he was fourteen. What the hell. There was nothing better to do.

She laid back on the bed, her legs still dangling off the edge, and closed her eyes.

She's back in the Tower, pinned under metal shelving with some nameless guard pointing one of those horrible bullet-less guns at her. She's sure he's about to kill her when she hears the whine and blast of a coil gun. The man in front of her nearly disintegrates into a cloud of billowing smoke and a mist of fine blood particles.

Charlie let her hand skim down her body and into her panties. Her fingers traced along wet puffy tissue in anticipation of what she knew came next.

The smoke clears, and through it she sees General Monroe. The relief she felt at the Tower guard's demise is suddenly replaced by heart pounding fear that she will be his next victim. Instead…

Charlie dipped the first finger inside at the memory of his voice.

"Hello Charlotte. A thank you would be nice."

If she could go back to that moment, with any idea of where they'd find themselves seven months later, she'd thank him alright. She added a second finger at the thought of stripping him out of that Militia uniform.

Now she's slumped on a barroom floor, hoping that the drugs whittle away her consciousness before the creeps begin whatever they have planned for her. Then the locked door bursts inwards. The dust settles and all of the room's occupants turn to see the feral-eyed Sebastian Monroe standing there.

She began pumping her fingers in earnest at the memory.

This time Charlie's not afraid. She knows he wants her help. He needs her and that makes her valuable to him. No one takes what belongs to him. She looks at the poor fools between her and the monster in the doorway. She really wants to laugh and tell them how fucked they all are, but the drugs have nearly incapacitated her, and all she can do is watch as Monroe eviscerates them. He bends the last one backward over the table and drives his machete into his chest, penetrating anything and everything vital underneath.

Her recollection of the way he looked down at her, still panting with exertion, made her wish that he was forcefully penetrating her body in a different kind of way.

She's surrounded by fog and a group of Patriots that are about to fire on her entire family. Then there's a gleam of metal, a splash of blood, and the men go down. The mist parts as Sebastian Monroe steps up with blood dripping from his blades.

The day's earlier events had obviously added to the scrapbook in her mind, and Charlie knew what was coming next.

He's left her, darted through the exit to save his own skin. Now some random Patriots have her pinned against the wall by her throat and a gun pointed at her head. It seems like an anticlimactic end after everything she's already survived to make it this far.

Charlie's other hand trailed south as well, the pads of her fingers applying pressure to the sensitized nub, spurring her body toward the edge.

Then out of nowhere the soldier next to the one holding her drops. It distracts her captor and she gets a knife into his gut. As he crumples to the ground, it reveals none other than Sebastian Monroe. "You came back." The only answer he gives her is in his eyes. It's all she needs. Everyone always leaves her. He's the first to come back for her.

"Monroe." She moaned out to the empty room as she edged closer to her release.

"Charlotte." She froze as she realized that the aroused uttering of her name had registered with her ears, not in her head.

Her eyes shot open in panic. There he was, casually leaning against the frame in the partially opened door. Those blue eyes of his locked on her body.

"Close the door!" She yelled at him as she pulled her hand from her underwear and scrambled to sit up.

Instead of leaving, he took a step into the room before kicking the door shut behind him.

"I meant with you on the other side of it." She stood and tugged her jeans up over her hips.

"Is that really want you want?" He took a step toward her and she could see that his eyes were hooded and an obvious bulge was taking form at the front of his pants.

"How long were you there?" The embarrassed question squeaked out of her as she fumbled with the zipper on her jeans and he continued to advance toward her.

As he started to imposingly encroach on her personal space, he answered, "Long enough." He stopped his advance when there was a scant inch between their bodies. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off the other, but no to touch. He looked down at her and an almost cruel smile, reminiscent of General Monroe, graced his features as he asked, "How was I?"

She almost wanted to laugh at his question, the arrogant bastard. But she was still flustered by the intrusion and just grumbled, "Can't say. I didn't get to finish."

His smile took on the slightly more genuine quality of the man she'd spent the last month working alongside, and it made her drop her guard slightly. She hadn't expected what came next. He dropped his hands to her hips and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her jeans. With a gentle tug she was pulled flush up against him. He smelled like sweat and musk with the hint of acrid ash still clinging to him. It should have been disgusting, but it was the smell of fighting and fucking and everything about him that drove her wild when she knew it shouldn't. She was so distracted by the cut of his muscular chest, the way she could feel his abs tensing through his threadbare shirt as he made little adjustments in balance to account for her shifting, and his hardened length straining through his pants against her body, that she almost didn't hear him as he leaned in and whispered into her ear. "Well, we can't have that. I have a reputation to uphold."

Part of her wanted to punch the cocksure smirk off his face, but then she registered that he had unfastened her zipper and was sliding a hand down into her panties. She chewed on her lip as his worn and calloused fingers trailed through the smattering of hair and along her drenched vulva. A small whimper was her only reply as logic and desire fought for control of her body.

"I can stop if this isn't what you want." He offered as his thumb skimmed gingerly across her clit. Her body shuddered and he smiled. "But unless there's someone else around here with my name, I think you do want it." He stroked his thumb over her firmly now, and she couldn't stop herself from leaning into it. That seemed to be all the confirmation he needed, and he guided a finger into her.

She felt each thickened and scarred knuckle penetrate her and decided to just give in to him. She wasn't sure how far he wanted to take this, but her desires had already been whatever the female equivalent of cock-blocked was enough times today. She wrapped her arms around him for sheer need of something to cling to, and he wrapped his free arm around her for extra support as he added a second finger. She moaned into his chest and her knees threatened to give out. He worked his fingers inside her, flexing a knuckle and hitting the spot that made her nearly collapse in his arms.

She didn't even realize that he was moving them toward the bed until she felt the edge of it hit the back of her thighs. Then his fingers had suddenly vacated her, and he shoved her back onto the bed. She wanted to complain about the way he was manhandling her, but it was him, so she took it as part of the package deal that she assumed went with being debauched by Sebastian Monroe. Before she could turn and position herself lengthwise on the bed, he stopped her by pulling off her jeans. She was laying half on the bed, her legs cascading off the side, in the same pose as he'd found her earlier. Except now he was kneeling on the ground in front of her and carefully sliding her underwear down her thighs. Once the small cotton garment was clear of her ankles, he put a hand on each knee and pushed them apart. After giving her an appraising look that felt to Charlie like he was staring for hours, he began kissing up inside of the right thigh.

His unshorn facial hair scratched and tickled the soft flesh, and along with the pleasing sensation of his warm mouth trailing up her leg, Charlie couldn't help but squirm. He put more force into his hold on her knees, opening her wider to him and pinning her legs in place. His mouth had stilled when it reached his destination, and once he seemed convinced that she would stop squirming, he slid his hands up to assist with his task.

At first it was just his hot breath against engorged tissues, but Charlie found even that immeasurably sexy. Then he began placing soft kisses everywhere but where she really wanted his lips to be. She tried to shift against him, but his powerful hands dug bruising fingertips into her thighs and held her still. Instinctual anger at being restrained welled up in her, but at the same time she couldn't deny that there was something about the way he overpowered her that sent an even more desperate need to her loins. In the few trysts she'd engaged in during her time away from her family, she'd always been the aggressor. She'd found satisfaction in the way that the virile boys had submitted to her. But this, this was something else. There was no mistaking that in this endeavor, Monroe's domination was complete. And as much as she was loathe to admit it, she liked it that way.

Then suddenly his fingers were back inside her, spreading her open for him. She stopped thinking as his tongue dipped into her amidst the digits. As his tongue alternated between darting in and out of her and lapping at the edges, she forced herself to prop up onto her elbows and watch. As if sensing her eyes on him, his piercing gaze shot up to meet hers. He moved upwards slightly and, still holding eye contact, he murmured into her, "So wet… for me."

She knew it was true, but she just couldn't stand seeing him that smug. She rolled her eyes and moved a hand to run over the top of his head. If they were playing out her fantasies, then grabbing a hand full of that stupid curly hair while watching him work between her legs had to be near the top. She could feel the tension building inside her as he laved and nipped at her clitoris, his thumb applying gentle pressure just above while his fingers still pulsed in and out of her heat.

She couldn't stop herself from moaning, the desperate sound interrupted by a staccato of gasps each time he applied pressure in just the right places. He had worked her to her breaking point. Just as she was about to give in to the idea of coming against his mouth, her muscles squeezing down on his tongue still buried inside her, he pulled away. The sudden absence of sensation felt like someone had just taken a baseball bat to her chest. "What? Why did you… No!" She hated how needy her voice sounded as the begging words slipped unbidden from her mouth.

He had withdrawn and was now standing between her legs, his hands back on her knees, keeping her spread wide in front of him. He was just grinning down at her. "Did you think I was going to let you get all the way through with this without telling me what you were imagining me doing to you when you were moaning my name earlier?" He released her knees to shrug his top shirt back off his shoulders. "What's it like for you in your mind, Charlotte?"

"In my mind you're not such a tease." She snarked as he pulled his t shirt off over his head and tossed it to the floor.

He laughed appreciatively at the admission and leaned in over her. His expression was now more curious than predatory as he placed hands on her hips and slowly began to trail them up under her shirt, pulling the hem along with them. "What is it about me that turns you on?"

He gently pulled her up into a sitting position as his hands grazed along the side of her breasts over her bra.

"It's embarrassing." She mumbled as he pulled her tank top over her head and threw it to the floor behind him.

"I was hoping that you'd tell me willingly…" He traced the back of his knuckles down over her sternum and between her breasts. "…but, I can turn this into an interrogation if you want." He dipped his fingers beneath the fabric of her bra and cupped her left breast in his hand before roughly squeezing the supple flesh.

She gasped at the sensation of pain mixed with pleasure and leaned forward into him, plastering the side of her face against the hard lines of his abdominal muscles.

As he continued to knead her breast with one hand, his other traced around her back and skillfully unclasped her bra. It slid forward off her shoulders as her hands tugged at his belt.

He stepped back from her and grabbed her hands to still them. "Not until you tell me what I want to know." He pulled the bra from around her arms and dropped it amongst the accumulating pile of clothing on the floor.

She looked up to his face and a lust filled version of the old General's obsessive visage staring down at her. She'd always heard that his interrogation techniques were terrifyingly effective. There was no longer any doubt on the subject. She caved.

Charlie laid back on the bed and crossed her arms over her chest, as if shielding her private parts from his view would make up for exposing her more private desires to him. She sighed and relented, "It's the way you save me all the damn time."

She heard the sound of him kicking off his boots and letting them drop against the hardwood. The admission, now started, wouldn't stop dribbling from her lips. "At the Tower, in that bar, today in that stupid school. I hate feeling helpless, like I can't save myself."

She looked over to see him pulling down his zipper. She sat up in anticipation of the big reveal, and couldn't stop more words from spilling out of her mouth. "But then suddenly they're dead and you're there. These guys completely overpowered me and you just cut through them like they're nothing. And it should make me feel weak, but then you're standing over me and…"

Her voice trailed and faltered as he tugged off his jeans. He stepped toward her and out of the denim pooled around his ankles. Of course he hadn't had on anything underneath. In what kind of world would a man like him ever not go commando.

She suddenly found herself at eye level and only a scant foot or two away from the impressive penis that she had spent so much time fantasizing about. By all accounts it was a very good penis. The size and girth of it were almost imposing, and she suddenly felt a new appreciation for the accuracy of the term 'cocksure' as one of his defining characteristics. Its achingly hard length was covered in velvety smooth skin with just enough veining to belie its function as a throbbing piece of musculature. She wanted to take it in her hands, wanted him to drive it into her. But as he took another step toward the bed (and toward her), she found herself scooting back away from him. She'd had enough experience over the last year and a half for her body to instinctively know that when this particular man approached you with that focused of a look in his eyes, you were meant to be afraid.

He appeared to register the change in her demeanor and made an effort to dial back the intensity. She relaxed and leaned back, stretching her legs down the length of the mattress, laying herself out for him. He even laughed a little as he leaned in toward her and placed a hand on the bed on each side of her waist. "Charlotte, I hate to break this to you, but you aren't all hot and bothered because I saved you those times. You get off on the fact that I killed for you." He climbed onto the bed, hovering over her lower body on all fours.

Charlie didn't even know how to respond to that. Could he be right? Could she really be that twisted?

He advanced slowly up the bed. His body lingered just above hers as he moved like a tiger stalking prey. "It's nothing to be ashamed of." He dipped his head down and placed a soft kiss on the side of her ribcage just below her left breast. "We live in a cruel world and we've all had to adapt to survive. You've adapted better than most." He slid his hand up along her side and firmly cupped her right breast. As the calloused pad of his thumb began tracing rough circles around that nipple, he took the other one in his mouth. First his tongue traced its outline, and then he sucked the firm bud roughly before raking it through his teeth.

Charlie hissed and arched her hips into him at the pleasurable and slightly painful sensation. He was staring at her again when she rolled her eyes back down to look at him, a smirk written proudly across his face. She couldn't let him be right. "Murdering people doesn't turn me on."

He was a little surprised that she didn't add "I'm not you." or some other similar dig at his past.

"I never said it did. But you're a fighter, fierce. You can defend the ones you care about. You need the same in a partner."

She could feel the tip of his penis trailing up the inside of her thigh as he said it, the building pre-cum leaving a small trail in its path. "You saying you're my soul mate?" She sneered at him as he looked up from sucking on her collar bone.

"I'm saying that it's biology. The strong don't end up with the weak." He trailed his tongue along her pulse point in her neck before nipping at the base of her jaw.

She dug her fingernails into his back, appreciating the way it made him lower himself down on top of her. The skin to skin contact was intoxicating. As her hands traced over formed muscles held taught in anticipation of what was about to unfold, she couldn't deny that he was one of the species' strongest and deadliest. She knew he was right. She pictured the types of men she knew that couldn't defend themselves, couldn't protect their own. She pictured Aaron. She loved the guy like family, but anything else… No. Then she pictured the fluid movements and raw power that Bass had exuded as he tore through the deviants in that Texas bar. There was never a doubt that he would kill them all, that he would do whatever was necessary to defend her. It made her want him inside of her already.

She writhed against him as his tongue traced the lines of her ear and then pulled the lobe tantalizingly through his teeth. "We're all just animals." He whispered into her ear as his hand tangled in the base of her hair. "Hardwired to seek out the most advantageous mate possible."

He used the hand in her hair to pull her head to the side and began to devour her neck as his other hand slid down between them. Charlie could feel the blunt end of him throbbing against her fluid slicked entrance. She felt his hand trail down her abdomen, through her damp curls, and rub teasingly over her clit before taking himself in hand. Her body ached for him to finally plunge into her, but she couldn't stop one last remark from spilling out of her lips. "And you think you are the best I can do?"

He quickly removed the hand from her hair and used it to hike her thigh up high over his hip. It opened the angle of her pelvis, already stretching her still vacant insides. His fingers gripped the soft curve of her flexed ass cheek hard enough to leave marks as he murmured "Why don't you tell me." Then in a single movement he crashed his lips down on hers and drove the entire length of his sizable cock as deeply into her as he could.

She cried out, loud enough that her whole family probably would have come barging in if he hadn't buffered the noise by shoving his tongue into her mouth. She clung to his shoulders with one hand while the other was knotted in the sheets. Nothing she'd ever fantasized had even come close to preparing her for the reality of this. He had made it all the way to her cervix on the first thrust. Between the position and the size of him, the pressure inside her body felt as if it were about to tear her apart from the inside. It was terrifying and intense, but at the same time painfully pleasurable beyond any previous experience. She had barely had time to begin adapting to the fullness when he slowly slid almost completely out of her and then rammed back in again. Her hand fisted further into the sheet and she reflexively dug her nails into the flesh of his back deeply enough that she was sure she'd drawn blood.

He was sucking on her bottom lip and made a low rumbling sound, the mixture of a moan and a growl. It was her first indication that she could affect his body in all this, the way he was masterfully manipulating hers. She rolled her pelvis against his and coaxed a small groan from him. Then she released her death grip on the bedding and ran her hand through the short curls on his scalp. He started pumping into and out of her with a steady rhythm, and the tender pain of friction and forced yielding of her vaginal walls gradually gave way to an entirely pleasurable sensation. She rocked up against him, meeting each thrust of his pelvis.

Between their hushed wanton moans he whispered roughly into her ear, "Still think you could do better?"

It was a stupid question. She was having to use gratuitous amounts of effort to delay the explosion of an orgasm that was already threatening to overtake her after a whopping thirty seconds. Every quivering muscle in her body was shouting "No" and he had to know it. She didn't know why, but she still refused to give in to him. "Not entirely convinced I couldn't." The fact that she couldn't even get out a full sentence between needy gasps should have been indication enough that it was a lie. She knew she was in for trouble as she felt him smile against the skin of her neck where he'd been suckling just hard enough to drive her wild, but not to leave a mark. He didn't need to say it. Challenge accepted.

He shifted, pulling his legs up under him and sitting back into a kneeling position while still driving into her. He used the hand that had been on her ass to hold her elevated leg in place, while slowly letting the other trail down her body, ghosting over her breasts and belly before halting just above the blonde curls. His voice was deep and smoldering like burning coal, "Then tell me Charlotte," He lifted the leg from his waist even higher until her ankle was around his neck. She trembled beneath him as her body adapted to the new position. He continued, "Besides your uncle…" Then he moved the hand from her lower abdomen to collect her other leg, coaxing it so both her calves were now resting on his shoulders. Between his voice, the lurid position he'd folded her into, and the feeling of his body boring into hers, Charlie knew she was nearly done for. "How many men have ripped an attacker off you…" He ran his left hand up and down her leg as the right trailed determinedly down her inner thigh. When it found the place where they were joined, he let his thumb lightly trace around them. The gentle touch at the spot where he entered her, continued to move inside her, made her roll her head back into the pillow and arch her back. He kept speaking, his voice nearly a purr now, "…pried their hands from your neck…" At that he moved his hand up, running the heel of his palm over her clit. He rubbed against the sensitive and primed nerve cluster, matching the pressure with the timing of his hips. "… and slit their throats for you?"

What he was doing to her, what he was saying to her… It was like he knew her body and her mind better than she did. There was no holding back any more. The spooled tension in her core erupted and her body seized underneath him. He kept plunging deep into her, prodding her, working her through the spasms until every last part of her broke and she answered him between cries. "Just you. Only you."

As she collapsed back against the mattress he stilled and gently guided her legs down to the bed at his sides. Then he leaned forward over her and stretched his legs out. He pulled her flush against him and rolled them onto their sides, still buried deep in her. She looked to his face, expecting to see a smug smirk after having coerced such a well-guarded admission out of her. Instead, she found him smiling softly at her. He brushed some stray locks of hair back behind her ear and let his hand trail across her cheek as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

The kiss was almost sweet, and for a second she nearly forgot who was in her arms. He ran soothing palms up and down her spine as he began softly rocking back and forth within her. It was nice and not at all unpleasant, but it was just so unexpected. She pulled her mouth away from his and teased, "You're not gonna gloat?"

"About what? You didn't tell me anything I didn't already know." He tried to keep his tone comforting, but a hint of smugness rang through.

"And he's back." Charlie quipped and grinned at him.

He rolled his eyes at her and then flipped them so that she was on top of him. His hands were still rubbing calming circles on her back, and she rested her head against his chest as their bodies moved languidly together. He trailed a hand down her shoulder and arm and entwined their fingers. Then he brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed the tip of each of them.

That was it for Charlie. Getting pounded through the mattress by Monroe was one thing. Making love to the completely unrecognizable man beneath her was something else entirely. She sat up so that she was straddling him and moved to crawl off of him. A sudden authoritative grip on her hips held her in place and ground her against him.

"Where do you think you're going?" The tone wasn't friendly.

She looked down at him with all the seriousness she could muster. "Thanks for… before, but I don't know what you think is happening here now."

He laughed at her. His hands on her hips continued to move her against him at a leisurely pace as he spoke. "That… was about what you needed. Now it's my turn."

She opened her mouth to speak, a biting comeback dangling from her lips, but he cut her off. "Tisk tisk, Charlotte. I hadn't expected you to be quite so selfish in this department."

She gave him an indignant look, partially because the "tisk" thing made her feel like a disobedient child and partially because she knew he was right. He had just done things with her body that she would be reliving in her fantasies for the indefinite future. She could at least hang around to get him off.

"Fine. What do you need?"

"Wow. When you put it like that…" He started to lift her hips as if to push her off of him.

"No." She put a hand on his chest and looked honestly into his eyes. "It's just… I mean… It was like you were in my head, knew everything I wanted. I have no idea what you want, what you like." She sighed as she admitted the last part. His level of experience and expertise in this arena put hers to shame.

He sat up and pulled her against his chest. He put his forehead to hers and stroked her hair as he spoke, "You need someone strong enough to be brutal when they have to be. I need someone strong enough to stop me when I don't have to be."

She understood. He just wanted an opportunity to prove he wasn't always a monster. Someone looking through everything and still seeing him as a man, trusting him, that was his big turn on. She could do that for him.

"Tell me how we do this." She whispered in his ear. She knew it had been the right thing to say, because she felt him reflexively surge upward inside her.

"You think you can even pretend to enjoy this for a while?" He looked at her like he was teasing, but she knew his secret now. He was afraid she couldn't. That no one who knew him could.

She ground down onto him, rolling her clit along his pelvic bone. She chewed on her lip before looking up to meet his eyes and answering, "Shouldn't be a problem," She saw the slight flash of worry in his deep blue eyes. He knew she could use his body. That wasn't what he'd been asking. After only a beat she smiled and added, "…Bass." She'd never used his nickname before. The fact that she'd chosen to do so now seemed to delight him. He sighed into the nape of her neck and started trailing kisses up toward her chin. Their hands started exploring, and she realized that she did rather like the needy little noises he was making against her skin.

He kissed her and the meeting of their tongues was comfortable and almost familiar. The pace he set lacked the usual urgency she associated with sex, and eventually she shoved his chest so that he was lying flat on his back while she rode him vigorously, but not violently. Just as she thought he was getting close, he pulled her down to him, kissed her, and pinned her underneath him. The tempo he picked up was slow and controlled.

"Any reason you're trying to draw this out?" She huffed at him.

"You got somewhere better you gotta be?" He asked curiously.

She thought about it for a moment. "Nah." She fell into rhythm with him as he laughed at her. She'd always viewed sex as a goal oriented task, a way to scratch a particular itch whenever it arose. The idea of it being something you did for fun had never really occurred to her.

"Really. What kind of amateurs have you been sleeping with?" He said with a grin.

"Well we can't all have your yeeeeeeeaaaars of practice." She'd dragged out the word to rib him about his age.

"Pretty sure I've heard something about experience being better than youth." He balanced his weight on his elbows and thrust into her deeply a few times, making her gasp and groan as he hammered roughly into her cervix.

When he finally stilled and looked down at her, she was obviously fighting a combination of arousal and discomfort. "I think your experience just bruised my spleen."

He couldn't not laugh at her after that. Then she started laughing and his arms gave out. He collapsed on top of her and they laughed together. She finally silenced him by colliding her mouth against his. After that, the sex became playful. They took turns teasing each other and exacting their vengeance through particularly distracting maneuvers. For nearly an hour they ran through a litany of different positions, laughing when some turned out too awkward or ended with one of them accidentally slamming their head against the headboard. Once they even ended up actually falling out of the bed and worried that the audible thud would send someone up to check on them. When no one came, the incident became rather hilarious to them.

She was lying flat on her stomach with him entering her from behind when they both realized that they couldn't hold out any longer. His hand was underneath her, teasing where they came together and providing pressure for her to grind against. His movements were just starting lose their precision when she came around him, moaning "Bass" into the pillow. He pumped into her a few more times before quickly withdrawing and rolling onto his back beside her. Charlie would have been content to just pass out the way she was sprawled on the bed, but she heard him still moaning in urgency with the sound of his hand forcefully stroking himself toward completion. She moved over to him, molding her body along his side and wrapping her hand around his as he jerked aggressively at his dick.

"Tell me what you want." She whispered into his ear and then started gently chewing on the associated earlobe.

She felt his muscles tightening and beginning to spasm uncontrollably against her as he breathily cried out, "You. Fuck. It's always been you." He turned and his eyes met hers as he said it, an almost guilty look hidden within the icy blue irises.

Their lips crashed together and she squeezed his tip as he came, spilling himself into her hand and dripping down between her fingers onto his stomach. He kissed her desperately as his muscles quivered and eventually calmed.

He laid next to her, chest heaving, showing no sense of urgency in his efforts to gain control of his panting breath. She was equally spent, and made no move to disentangle herself from him. They both slowly began to recover, her grip on him tender as his erection softened in her hand.

Once they both seemed to have regained their composure, she reached for the damp wash cloth from where she'd left it on the nightstand earlier and wiped the evidence of their tryst from between her legs and then from her hand. After tending to her own hygiene, she passed him the rag so that he could do the same.

After a few silent moments, she couldn't fight back the curiosity any longer. "What did you mean by 'it's always been me'?" She asked offhandedly as he cleaned himself up.

She noticed him still, and then return to his scrubbing without answering.

"It's ok. You don't have to tell me." She couldn't keep it from sounding a little disappointed. It was the first time she knew of that he'd kept anything from her.

He reached up and deposited the wash cloth back on the night stand. Then he rolled onto his side and looked her in the eyes. "It's not good."

She almost laughed at him. "Bass, I know better than anyone exactly who you are and who you used to be. I know what we've done, and tried to do, to each other in the past. I admitted to it when you walked in here today and caught me masturbating to memories of you cutting people apart for me. I'm pretty sure that 'not good' would be an improvement at this point."

"Don't say I didn't warn you." He muttered before rolling away from her and onto his back. He looked up at the ceiling as he admitted, "In Philadelphia. When you were ready to sacrifice yourself for your family. I'd never seen anyone like you before, still haven't. You looked right through me, fearless and defiant to what you thought would be your last breath. In that moment, I knew that you were either going to destroy me, or save me from myself. I was so turned on, I nearly fucking came in my pants right there."

She almost wanted to laugh at him. That after everything that had come to pass between them, he thought this would send her fleeing in horror. He had been one of the strongest and most feared men on the continent at that point, and without even trying she had nearly brought him to climax with a single look. She actually found it kind of… hot.

She rolled over to lay half next to and half on top of him. She rested her head on his chest and threaded a leg in between his as she let her hand graze across his pecs. "So what's the verdict? Destruction or salvation?"

Her thigh rubbed softly up against his balls, and she felt the sac constrict reflexively in appreciation. He made a soft mewling sound before offering, "Shit. Is 'both' an answer?"

She gave a soft mirthful laugh at his response. He collected her in his arms and rolled them so that she was flat on her back, and he was weighing down on top of her. He kissed her with abandon, and she couldn't help but notice his flaccid dick starting to stir where is was pressed between them. In turn, moisture began pooling between her folds again in anticipation of the next round.

He reluctantly broke the kiss and stared down at her. "We should probably go check on Miles. Put in an appearance downstairs before anyone realizes how long we've been up here."

She knew he was right. The last thing they needed was her mother bursting in on them mid-coitus. But she also knew that once they got up and dressed that the spell would be broken, and whatever it was that had happened between them would be over, probably for good. "Yeah. We should see how Miles is doing." She answered almost sadly.

He hesitated before eventually climbing off of her and out of the bed. She just watched for a moment, enjoying the view as he bent over and picked up his jeans and then pulled them on. He caught her watching him and smirked at her before tossing her her own clothes from the pile on the floor. They both dressed quickly and were soon standing together at the door. They both obviously wanted to say something, but neither had any idea what. This had, in all likelihood, been an experience that would not be repeated. The moment Miles was able to sit upright, they would all be back on the road. It would be back to running from the Patriots, making camp in the woods, and holing up in derelict buildings with everyone crammed in like sardines. They wouldn't have a moment's privacy to even take a piss, let alone two hours to leisurely work out their warped fantasies.

They arrived downstairs together to a look of anger and suspicion from Gene, but before he could say anything, Rachel's frantic voice pulled them all in towards Miles. His eyelids fluttered and then drifted open. Glassy brown eyes scanned the room before a shaky voice asked, "What happened?"

Gene shoved a thermometer in his mouth and after a minute read out, "Ninety-nine point eight. Fever's coming down nicely."

Seeing that Miles had stabilized, the group immediately broke down into their familiar roles. Charlie helped Gene pack up the medical supplies they would need to continue treating Miles on the road while Bass darted off into the night to procure them a wagon. Rachel stayed supportively by Miles's side, and Aaron sat around, still verging on catatonia, occasionally sipping from his flask. They were on the road within hours.