Razor sat in the coffee shop near the window, his usual spot, and watched the dark haired owner baking behind the counter. It was the perfect summer day for women in bikinis, tourists, and parents with children in tow. He didn't care about that right now. He was focused on the flour-covered woman with the dark blue eyes and the demeanor of a soldier scarred by war: Quiet but commanding, and if you looked into her eyes long enough, you could see the demons of her past haunting her. Razor only knew from the late nights she allowed him to stay near her.

They had met when Razor was forced to do community service at a soup kitchen that Angelique- the coffee shop owner's name- volunteered at. At first he hated it but seeing her treat him and others with the patience and kindness she did. He couldn't help it but he had softened. Razor served his time without much fuss after that, usually staying after to offer Angelique a ride. She always refused, always politely. Razor had noticed that normally he would have been angry about that, but given that she wasn't his ex, he respected her reply. He had also noticed something different about her. The way she carried herself around men who were older than her.

Razor decided to ask her one night after she got a phone call that seemed to break her down inside. She had run to the supply closet to cry and Razor waited outside speaking to her in a hushed voice. That was when she confided in him her past. It made Razor's blood boil but he held his tongue and instead offered her his friendship and protection if she needed it. Angelique emerged from the closet with a soft smile on her face, something he wasn't used to.

Razor was knocked out of his thoughts by his phone giving him a notification. It was a text. Come over and have some fun. It was his once mistress turned friend with benefits. A model who worked through Heatwave that Razor met at a club one night. He felt his pants get tighter at the thought of her and waved at Angelique, paying for his drink and leaving.

The mustang hated traffic around her apartment, but once he pulled into the garage he saw her waiting at the top of the steps to the elevator for him. He purred and got out, shutting the door then running towards her. She ran into the elevator and he was just barely able to get inside. Razor pressed himself against Marli, using his weight to pin her to the door as he kissed her deeply. She moaned and pressed her leg up between his, her fingers moving into his hair. She yanked his head away and smirked "You're late"
"Traffic around your place is garbage and you know it" He tried to move in for another kiss but she held him firmly.
"Say you're sorry."
"I apologize, Marli for being so late, will yo-oh god" Her leg rubbed up between his again, hitting his hard on just right. "w-will you forg-give me" He rushed out.

"Yes." She released his head, and Razor dove at her neck, kissing and nipping at it hungrily. The elevator gave a 'ding' to show they were on her floor, and Razor did the sensible thing: threw Marli over his shoulder and took her to her apartment, which she left unlocked.
"You shouldn't do that"
"Why?"
"Someone could break in and then I'd have to beat the shit outta them." Marli giggled as Razor tossed her onto her bed and slid his leather jacket off. She sat there, knees touching together, watching him as he took his shirt off too "I love when you give me that look" He said as he crawled up to her. She had always looked at him like she was a hungry lion waiting to pounce on her prey. It gave Razor chills the first time he saw it.

Marli was never afraid of him, even after he admit to her what he did, why he was in therapy, and why he knew Heatwave had set them up. The way she cupped the back of his head as he kissed her, running a hand into his hair while the other trailed down his back and pawed at him needily, he loved it. This is what he needed to learn, how to give.