It was late, far later than Charles usually went to sleep. Not that he needed much- a good three hours and he was ready to go again. But he liked order in his personal life when everything else at Mordhaus was so chaotic. And when he lay in bed, awake, his mind would drift to thoughts, and though he hated to admit it, feelings, that he would have preferred to avoid.
Leila Brimston, the Brimstone Bitch, had been gone a month now. She had worked at Mordhaus for several years as an online security specialist, or rather a hacker. She had betrayed the institution, and through it Dethklok, by uncovering highly specialized information. She had been quickly caught and put to interrogation, that is torture by electrodes. But had rigged the secret island fortress beforehand so that the levies would give way under excessive electric currents, and his billion dollar fortress had been flooded and destroyed. And what did he do in response! In a fit of desire and truly uncharacteristic compassion, Charles had released her from her bonds and saved her from drowning. Worst yet, they had kissed on the tower of the crumbling fortress before being rescued, and were lovers for weeks after that.
It had been a serious lapse of judgment.
If the band weren't so damned oblivious, they would be angry at him for his lack of professionalism, for putting them all at risk, but they seemed to like him all the better for it. Sacrifices such as his were truly thankless.
Not that he had moved to make the sacrifice- he had pursued his folly to the bitter end. It was she who had escaped, and he who had sought to rescue her- no, not recapture her, but rescue her. Again.
And now she was hiding out in a human rights cell, planning to push Mordhaus to reform, to open the prisons to public inspection. There were no press conferences, no memos, and she had likely taken on another identity, but he had found out her intentions nonetheless. She might be a top hacker, but she couldn't match him for resources.
What right did she have to interfere? All the dead here had signed their lives away, and those who hadn't? They had stolen Dethklok's music or sought to defame them- they were his enemies and he would hound them to the grave. And now Leila's name was at the top of that list.
Leila- dead.
The thought was a mix of satisfaction, relief, and horror. He saw her in this very room, alternately mocking and fiercely hungry, as she had been time and time again. They were people with staunch allegiances- he to Dethklok and the very art of professionalism, she to her passion for justice. And yet they had thrown them aside for a primal, foolish instinct.
She had dug into his back as though she really had meant to destroy him, and then negated all her hatred with a mouth that crushed under his. Charles's hand moved unconsciously to his chest, lifting up his t-shirt. It had been in this very bed where he first took her, or was taken- it was very hard to say which. They had been rattled through their narrow escape from death, and its promise still coursed their veins, nudging them an acts against their consciences. The first time had been quick and brutal, until over time they learned to control themselves. It had been awkward in its way, but he couldn't seem to let it go.
Charles kneaded circles with his palm over his chest, and felt his other hand glide slowly under his pajamas until it cradled his cock.
There she was, naked beside him, but still possessed of the uncanny ability to lay him equally bare. Her dark gold hair was tousled and she blinked at him through long, narrow green eyes. He reached for her as through grappling through the dark; there was something about her that brought back the inept sensations of childhood.
Charles took a shuddering breath and squeezed his cock. A ripple of pleasure ran down his spine and he turned his face toward the pillow.
Leila plunged into his arms. Her small firm breasts pushed against his chest and her mouth met his in a greedy kiss.
Charles bit the pillow and stroked himself steadily. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead.
It was much like it had been in the tower, with the sense that there was no time left in the world. They had to move and quickly, or an untimely death would take them. Their mouths stayed fixed in position and Leila wrapped her legs around him. She pulled back her legs and groaned as he pushed his way into her. He plunged deep and let her encase him. She threw back her head and panted as he increased his pace.
Charles moved his hand faster, and felt his arms trembling. It wouldn't be much longer…
They struggled until they couldn't bear it any longer, and gave way to the pleasure. He felt her pulse around him, and he released with a in a throbbing wave, pressing his mouth on hers.
Charles shuddered and came into his hand. He pressed other palm to his mouth to quiet his cries. He didn't want to be heard, he couldn't be heard.
He let his head clear, and his breath return to normal as he stared at the ceiling.
It didn't matter what it took. He would abandon this idiocy.