Rick stepped into the shower, blasting hot water onto his aching shoulder blades. He pressed his forehead, throbbing from a bad hangover, against a cold, tile wall. It had been days since he had talked to you, and your last discussion had been anything but perfect. When you attempted to sputter out your feelings to him, Rick sent you out - yelling about how you were just some "air headed bitch" that wasn't pretty enough for him. Now, with scalding water running down his spine, he let out a shaky breath - recalling that the biggest lie he ever told was saying you weren't enough for someone like him. He felt something between his legs twitch when he thought of you; your fine, blonde hair: brushing against his cheek when you had carried him into his bed after he had spent a weekend partying. Your slender fingers: intertwining with his ragged hands when you were scared. Your vibrant eyes: lighting up whenever he said something outrageous. Despite his gut wrenching every single time he resisted from hungrily slamming his chapped lips into yours and searching your curves with his calloused hands, he had managed to not drag you down into his fucked up life. And now here he was, consumed in the thought of you. Without even realizing it, his hand had curled around his member. And with every motion, the image of you, writhing beneath him in ecstasy as he desperately slammed himself into you - selfishly making you his and his alone, became clearer and clearer. Rick could feel a spring tightening within his lower abdomen as his thrusting quickened. He let out quick, needy breaths, thinking of the whimper that would escape your lips when he was leaving bruises all along your collarbone. But when the waves of ecstasy did finally run through him, and a hot substances seeped through his slender fingers, he slid to his knees as another feeling took effect: jealousy. The thought of you, in the arms of some burly, hairy , fat fuck, right now, made a rage flare up in Rick's gut, and he thought of tearing off your clothes and fucking you right in front of his opponent - showing everyone that you were his. That he craved your skin most. That he found your taste to be sweetest. And, most of all, showing you that he wanted you. Needed you. But that couldn't happen. Because as much as he wanted to learn every inch of you, he also had to save you. From his enemies, from his dangerous adventures, and most of all, from himself.