!extra long chapter, you have been warned!
Authors note: Surprise! I'm back for a 1-year anniversary special edition chapter! Almost exactly a year ago I published the first chapter of what was to become something I'm very proud of. Thank you to all the readers, whether you clicked follow, left reviews or merely read the story. I honestly didn't think I'd get any recurring readers at all, so please accept my most genuine thank you's. To celebrate I've put together what I think is an excessively long chapter, I hope it's not too long, and if so, please let me know because I know even for me this is a loooong chapter. Please tell me what you think, I'd appreciate any feedback. This one's for you guys.
Her mind was scrambled, and she knew it. She knew who was to blame and had no idea what to do about it. It had taken a few months, but now she was feeling the effects of it. The results of the affection given to her by a man whose name she didn't even know. The strange thing was she didn't seem to mind that he remained nameless, she usually forgot to ask, and at that point, she didn't want to. Days that passed without seeing him left her hesitant. Had she allowed someone to take up that much space in her psychical and emotional life only to have them bail on her? Despite her insecurities, she caught herself sporadically smiling throughout the days, playing her mental recording of his voice over and over like a melody she had stuck on repeat in her head. She did love his voice and the way he said her name. Since the last time she saw him, he'd crawled his way into her head and didn't show any signs of leaving anytime soon. What scared her was that she didn't want him to.
This wasn't a man she could introduce to her friends; he wasn't a 'good guy.' He tortures and kills people for a living and yet he could touch her so softly, purr her name when she dragged her hands through his hair. To her, he was a human paradox made exclusively out of contrasts she didn't understand, but that was what attracted her to him. She craved it, she realized. Though she was ashamed to want someone so complex and fucked up, her shame was balanced by her curiosity and attraction. Touching the still sensitive mark he'd left on her neck, she smiled to herself. She realized something then, comfortable in his company; all she wanted was to be understood, and somehow, the man with the painted face and bright colored suits was the only one who did. That fact terrified her as much as it elated her.
She sucked in a quick breath before shaking herself back into real life.
The printer hummed rhythmically in the background as she drummed her fingers on the desk impatiently. It had been another slow day at the archives, and she had made plans to hang out with Maggie after. For the first time in a long time, she couldn't wait to get out of work to hang out with someone, even her best friend. She pulled her light jacket on and picked up her bag, waiting for the printer to finish. The control room had been fixed a week prior, and she was beyond grateful to not be boiled alive and not have to see Lillian more than she had to. Since the day she walked out Murphy hadn't spoken a word to her tightly-dressed, fire-haired boss. Looking down, the printer sent out the last of many pages, and she picked them up as she drew a deep breath. All she had to do was deliver the papers to Lillian and then she could leave. The reason for her hesitation was something fairly childish. That woman could ruin her day with a look, and this wasn't a day that needed ruining. She felt okay, good even and that was a state she knew was fragile.
Clearing her throat, she gathered her things and was careful not to crease any of the papers as she made her way up the stairs and through the massive hall of the library. She didn't let herself hesitate for a second as she knocked on the door twice before hearing a voice from inside the office. Opening the door, she muttered an apology before making her way in with the papers in hand. It wasn't before she looked up and saw Lillians face that she realized she had made a mistake. The subtle, yet cold glare that came from the red-head was unmistakable. Murphy had interrupted. She turned to the man she saw sitting opposite of Lillian and stopped dead in her tracks. You could hear a pin drop as she stood frozen, looking straight at Bruce Wayne himself. When they locked eyes the man got up from his chair and gave a friendly smile.
Snapping out of it she hurried over to a table with her papers,
«I'm so sorry for interrupting, I'll just leave these here,» she said rushed as she sat the stack of papers down. Now she knew why Lillian was shooting daggers more than usual.
«No, no, it's fine,» she looked up to see Mr. Wayne give a sympathetic smile that was in high contrast to Lillians expression. He like the one other time they'd met was dressed in an expensive looking suit and looked just like he did on TV and in the papers. His polite demeanor was something of a by-gone era, no one she knew would stand up just because she walked in the room.
«It's nice to meet you again, Miss Murphy,» he gave a slight nod. Instinctively she smiled back and swallowed hard, not knowing what to do next or what would happen next. Leaving was probably the sensible thing to do, but she didn't know how without merely walking out abruptly. Having a round of small-talk with Lillian Elliot and Bruce Wayne wasn't a way she liked to waste time. She stood there confused in the now chilly atmosphere of her boss' office.
Before she could form a sentence she heard Lillian utter in an abnormally high voice,
«You two know each other?» her voice was as tight as her smile and a few notes higher than usual. She looked at the handsome billionaire and back at her confused employee with that god awful smile. Murphy knew that the contrast between them was so apparent that she'd expect an explanation.
«Yes, Louisa helped me with a charity project last fall,» he smiled, and she almost laughed out loud. She had to bite her cheek as she smiled back at Lillian as if to verify what Wayne said. That was a hell of a smart way to phrase 'I promised to fund an illegal clinic your employee and a few others were running and then was never heard from again.' If his wordless withdrawal hadn't been the reason Maggie went to the Russians for money, she wouldn't be so bitter about it. Right now, looking at him in his spotless suit and seeing Lillian looking just as impeccable, she felt a merely tired indifference toward the wealthy elite in front of her.
«Really?» Lillians eyebrows raised and she looked back and forth from Mr. Wayne and Murphy with a smile. «I didn't peg Louisa for charity work,» she let out an airy laugh that somehow was as strained as herself.
Murphy suppressed the urge to groan out loud, but forced out the same laugh Lillian did so well and shrugged with a smile, «People are full of surprises!»
«Apparently so,» Lillian played along, and Murphy wanted to get the hell out of this awkward encounter.
«I'm clocking out, you two have a nice evening,» Murphy smiled as she walked over to the door and couldn't wait to tell Maggie about this later. The only good thing she'd get out of this would be Maggie's reaction to it.
She turned and gave the broad-shouldered man a slight nod, «Mr. Wayne,» before pulling the door open and as gracefully as she could, made her way down the long hall toward the exit.
Her steps echoed through the near-empty reading halls of the library, the tall ceilings creating an almost church-like acoustic. It was an incredibly beautiful building. One of the very few that had survived the passage of time and waves of crime that plagued the city. Like a lot of other public buildings in the country, it had been drawn as a sort of replica of old European architecture. The library had been built in the 1820's, but looking at it you'd think it had been there since before Columbus stumbled upon the continent. She smiled to herself, it was a beautiful place to work and hadn't it been for Lillian she would've enjoyed it a whole lot more. Walking over to the large wood-carved doors she stopped abruptly, knowing something was wrong.
She had been in such a rush to get out of the office she had left her bag behind. This meant, she had no choice but to go back there and interrupt them once again. If Lillian had been shooting daggers before, she had no idea what the reaction would be this time. Looking up at the doors she groaned loudly. Here she thought she was home free.
She cursed herself under her breath with a groan, «You ditsy fuck.»
Biting down the embarrassment, she forced herself around and made her way back to the office. Her footsteps echoed through the halls again, yet this time it sounded as though Godzilla itself had made its way into the building. It was as though she was sneaking in the front door, trying not to wake anybody. Her primary goal now as she cursed herself was to avoid any direct contact with Lillian as though she was the plague. In many ways, she was. Walking all the way back the long hall she could see the doorway ahead get closer and closer. She drew a breath to prepare herself and then, the door opened.
She stopped in her tracks to see none other than Mr. Wayne stepping out, carrying her bag. He approached her with a sympathetic smile,
«I thought you'd like your bag back,» he chuckled as he handed her the raggedy bag, she was embarrassed on his behalf for having to be seen with it.
She let out a small, nervous laughter as she accepted it and sheepishly hooked the strap to her shoulder, «Thank you, I was in a bit of a rush.»
«Somehow I could tell,» he joked, and she couldn't help but quip a brow at his light sarcasm. «To apologize for holding you, let me at least offer you a ride,» he moved to her side and indicated that she'd follow.
«Oh, no, thank you, but that's not necessary,» she said hurriedly as she followed him down the hall.
«You going far?» he turned to ask her, and she knew he could tell she was. He had to know she was going far; she had never had the funds to live anywhere close to midtown, she certainly wasn't living in a walking distance of the library.
«Uh, yeah, Stevensburg-» she muttered as she clutched her bag to her side to stop the loud jiggling of her keys.
«We'll get you there in no time,» he smiled and came to a stop, with his hands behind his back, the same sort of gentlemanly characteristics she'd only seen in films. She was confused for a second, they hadn't walked more than twenty feet from the office and were still in the middle of the library.
When he spoke next, his voice was hushed as if he was telling a secret,
«I was hoping if it's alright with you, that we could discuss said 'charity project,'»
He turned his head just slightly toward the back where the office was, «Preferably without the feeling of being watched.»
Turning around Murphy felt a chill move down her spine. There Lillian was, downright glaring at her from outside her office. It was the sort of look that exposed who she really was; it was a look of hate. It scared her, Lillian had always seemed like she was a bit off, but seeing Murphy talk to Mr. Wayne appeared to hit a nerve. She had to tear herself away from it; she could risk being cursed by merely looking at her.
«Oh, okay,» she breathed as she could feel metaphorical daggers lodging into her back.
«If that's not a conversation you wish to have, I can more than understand it,» he gestured to move again, and she followed, eager to get away from Mrs. Daggers.
«I don't make a habit out of not making good on my promises, this is something that's weighed heavy on me,» he opened the door for her, and she stepped out into the sunshine. Making their way around the corner of the building he stopped and turned to her with a solemn, seemingly honest expression,
«I'd like to help, sufficiently this time, though I can't blame you if any trust you had is broken. Regardless of your decision, the least I can do is drive you home,» he spoke and just then, like clockwork a large, expensive looking black car drove up to where they were standing.
He walked over to the passenger side and opened the door for her. That's when she noticed something about the car door. It was about five or six times thicker than a standard car door; it was basically a tank concealed as a business man's transport. It made complete sense that he'd have a bulletproof car, but she stood mesmerized staring at the armored tank. She hesitated as she looked at the dark interior of the vehicle. He was a famous man, but that didn't make her feel better about getting into a car with him. This wasn't a man she knew, and there wasn't any reason she should. At the same time, she imagined the walk all the way to Maggie's place. The heat alone was a pain, by the time she'd get there she'd be drenched in sweat. She also had to pee, and there was no way in hell she was walking back into the library. At that point, there was a genuine fear she'd be found stabbed to death in a toilet stall.
He noticed her fascination toward the car and her hesitance to get in,
«It's bulletproof so it might just survive Stevensburg,» she looked over at him, and he smiled. So then, she drew a breath as laziness won the fight and she gave the overly-dressed man a grateful nod and a smile as she stepped into the car.
Once they were both inside, he asked her for the address, and the car started moving smoothly through the streets. She was uncomfortable for several, obvious reasons. She was sitting in an armored vehicle that cost more money than she'd ever get her hands on with the most famous man in the city and she had no idea what to say. This wasn't a scenario she'd ever been prepared for, she had met the man once, and it wasn't like they'd become friends in the five to ten minutes of conversation they'd had months ago. When it came to the matter he wanted to discuss; Maggie would be the better person to ask. Murphy was just along for the ride; Maggie was the captain.
Surprising herself she broke the silence, «Look, regarding the clinic, I'm not in charge of anything. I can't accept or decline an offer, all I can do is pass on the message.»
In the corner of her eye, she saw him nod slowly, «That's all I'm asking for. As I said, I didn't stick to my word, and I understand your skepticism. I fully expect you to consider it carefully.»
One thing she was unsure about, not just if this man was trustworthy or not, but rather if he really knew what he was getting himself into. He'd only been at the clinic once before; he hadn't been exposed to the reality of it. At best, mobsters were 1/3 of their patients, and at worst they were the only patients they had. She wasn't doubting his intelligence, but couldn't see how this would be beneficial to a man whose reputation was so tightly linked to his livelihood. Though he didn't come across as pampered, he hadn't seen half the stuff anybody working at the clinic had. If he was linked to an illegal clinic in the Narrows that mainly were held hostage by both the Russians and Maroni's gang, she had a hard time seeing him gain any popularity from it. Mulling it over she tried to find a way to say just that, without offending the man. If Maggie turned out to want his help, Murphy didn't want to tell her she had fucked it up by a lack of self-restraint and common sense.
She chewed the words before drawing a breath and sighing as she sat up straighter in her seat,
«If you intended to help the poor and helpless in the Narrows, that's no longer the situation for us. The clinic isn't that much of a free clinic anymore. These days most of our patients aren't people I'd assume you want to have any connections to.»
«I see,» he spoke from next to her before looking up with a slight smile, «Bad for business?»
«Unfortunately.» she nodded solemnly. «It's up to you and the others at the clinic, but I couldn't let you make a deal without knowing the full scale of it all. It's not a place I'm thrilled with being linked to, so I can only assume what sort of ripple effect it would have on your life should it be known that you're funding it.»
He nodded, listening intently. «I'm not completely ignorant to the change happening in the Narrows; I've been keeping an eye on the area. To me it sounds like you need all the help you can get.» He looked over at her, and she knew right then that there was nothing she could do, he wanted back in, and once Maggie would find out, that's the way it would be. She didn't need to know Bruce Wayne to understand that this wouldn't be a successful business venture for him. It was beyond strange that he remained so adamant.
She let out a chuckle; this guy wouldn't budge. «I won't lie, we're in a tight spot. That's exactly why I don't understand why you want in.»
He smiled. «You think I'm naive.»
«Maybe, or idealistic, whichever you prefer. I think it's hard not to be,» she shrugged and just then, the car slowed to a spot. Glancing out the window, she saw the familiar streets of Maggie's neighborhood.
«Would it be okay to set up a meeting after you've talked to the others?» he asked almost carefully. She knew neither Maggie nor Martin would decline the offer and she knew she'd have to have another meeting with Wayne. He wasn't a creepy guy, and he hadn't been offensive or rude, but there was something about him that didn't feel right. It made her uncomfortable and more than a little frustrated she couldn't figure him out. There was more to him than a playboy who ran around spending his daddy's money. She'd much rather have Maggie deal with him, last time they met, she seemed utterly enamored with the guy.
She sighed, «Sure,» she unlocked her seatbelt and looked through her bag to find a crumpled piece of paper and a pen. She wrote down her number and handed the stoic man the note.
«Thursday at lunch sound good? I'll have a car pick you up,» he accepted the note, and without losing eye contact, he tucked the simple note in it the breast pocket of his suit.
Eager to get out she nodded with a stiff smile and reached for the door.
«Thank you for the ride, Mr. Wayne-»
«You're welcome, Miss. Murphy, though, just call me Bruce.» he gave a friendly smile as the door on her side opened. Grabbing her purse, she stepped out and turned back to the man in the bulletproof car.
«Then just call me Murphy, Miss Murphy reminds me of middle school.» she stepped away from the car, and she swore she heard him let out a little laugh before the door was closed and the car moved down the empty streets. Lunch on Thursday. Meaning she'd be picked up at work. At the library. Where Lillian also works. There is no way she won't notice that. Fucking great.
Ever since Lillian had taken over the job as the chief librarian of the Gotham Library, Murphy collected every single encounter she had with the woman and saved them until she could give Maggie the newest update about the 'chief of horror.' It was one of those treats you have in friendships where you get to indulge in the shared hatred of another person. They'd laugh, do childish imitations and make an evening of it. Though behind the laughter was a piece of shared history that they never openly discussed. It was as though joking about the obvious was their way of venting, of dealing with what was right below the surface. In reality, Maggie had more reason to despite Lillian than anybody else. What Murphy was subjected to was nothing compared to the pit that now sat in Maggie's stomach because of none other than Lillian herself. Talking shit about her was cathartic to them both, but Murphy could see how Maggie's eyes would sparkle, and her grin grow. For a good reason too, Maggie had been exposed to Lillians venom-dripping comments and cold stare more than anybody else she knew, even more than herself. When Murphy learned Lillian would be her new boss at the library two years prior, she wasn't sure how to break the news to Maggie. Lillian Elliot was one big piece of Maggie's history that weighed heavy on her if she wanted to admit it or not. It was a topic they always danced around, and Murphy found it hard to balance at times, occasionally she would slip a casual comment that she'd immediately regret. Maggie reacted just as she would, with a light shrug and a small smile, her attempt to brush it off. Murphy always noticed, it was hard not to, but she felt apologizing would only make it worse. This was one of the ways the two friends were similar, to Murphy it felt like looking at herself sometimes.
Maggie had started college a year before Murphy. Ambitious and dead set on going through medical school she would befriend equally eager students. At that time they were still close, but Murphy felt like the mentally ill sister Maggie was under obligation to take care of. She was happy Maggie was doing well, and she seemed to thrive in every way. It appeared finally, at least one part of their duo had found their place. Once Murphy's health improved she'd tag along to parties, hangouts and though it took some time she blended in with the others and became a part of their group. As she started college to study English literature and history, she was subsequently teased for her choice by the others. When she decided to take up philosophy as well, there was a roar of friendly laughter from the future doctors. She was the artistic addition to their group, and she didn't mind. For about two years, financial situations set aside, things were good. It was her, Maggie and the small glimmer of light that would indicate a future in a city where the word itself didn't exist. Maggie had always been good at acquiring friends in high places, she was the epitome of charismatic, so much so that even the rich kids chose to look away from her working-class background. She was radiant, smart and beautiful; sometimes Murphy would smile to herself in seeing people, especially guys reactions to her fair-haired beauty of a best friend. Maggie was happy and enjoyed the attention, but she was never taken away by it, always studying hard and managed to balance her studies and her social life. It was during the first term of Maggie's freshman year that she befriended yet another high-ranking member of Gotham's upper class. None other than Thomas Elliot of the Elliot family, one of the five founding families of Gotham. Most people referred to them as 'the originals', and there weren't many of them left. There were the Elliots, Dumas, Crowne, Kane, and Wayne. Though even at that time only three of those families had survived the passing of time, those being Wayne, Elliot, and Kane. Hell, even Wayne was left represented by the one living member of the family. The people of Gotham had talked about the curse of the original families as long as Murphy could remember. To many, the tragedies befallen on the founding families was seen as a sign that the city itself had been doomed from the get-go. It wasn't until the downfall of the Elliots that Murphy thought the gossip and wandering tales held any merit. For Maggie, it was much the same until one day everything she believed to be true was flipped. She had a front-row seat to the collapse of the one family that had seemingly up until that point, avoided the curse.
Thomas Elliot was at first glance, at least to Murphy, another charismatic, broad-shouldered rich kid with a million dollar smile. Being that most of the people Maggie introduced her to fit that particular category, she didn't pay him much mind at first. The only thing that did set him apart from the others was his last name. The name Elliot at that point in time held even more weight than Wayne and as they were a family of ruthlessly ambitious people and Wayne was only one, they had made it to the top of the food chain. Maybe it was Murphy's bias toward rich people that held her back whenever Thomas came around to events or parties. Perhaps it was her pre-existing skepticism mixed with how evident it was that he and Maggie were growing closer as the months passed. Her eyes would light up whenever she saw him walk over; she talked about him more than she thought and probably thought about him more than that. Their group got new members, all upper-class Gothamites whose clothes alone had to cost her months worth of rent. Murphy was uncomfortable around them, and she knew it was obvious. She didn't despise them, but unlike Maggie, she didn't know how to fit in or want to. Maggie had always wanted to be one of those people, hell, most of the city did. It was the ultimate fantasy, imagine what it would be like to not be poor, to be polished and beautiful, to not be stressed about money all the time. She couldn't ever judge Maggie for wanting a piece of it, to just have a taste of that life they had always fantasized about. Murphy, however, did judge herself. She knew she was Maggie's weird friend, often overhearing others ask Maggie what was wrong with her sulking companion.
When Maggie and Thomas, or Tommy, began dating it came as no surprise to anyone. After months of 'will they won't they' they were seen holding hands and grinning, as only a ridiculously happy couple can. It seemed genuine and before long Murphy found herself feeling guilty for questioning it in the first place. Maybe it was her bitterness and at times excessive skepticism that got the better of her until she felt a warmth spread in her chest at her best friends happiness.
She was surprised when one night, Thomas sat down opposite her when the group was at the campus bar. He struck up a conversation though he seemed careful as if he was approaching a wild animal. Whatever Maggie had told him he must have taken it very seriously. He apologized for not having talked to her before and seemed more toned down than he did around the others, more relaxed. She had felt the sides of her mouth twitch; he wasn't the ostentatious meathead she had first pegged him for. His brown eyes were genuine, and soon they were swapping stories and making each other laugh. She felt pretentious for even thinking it, but the boy had depth. She couldn't sense any ulterior motives as she could with every other college guy she met. It didn't take long before they became friends and if Maggie had expected her approval, she had gotten it.
«Hey!» she snapped her head up to see Maggie waving a hand in front of her face. «You're freaking me out with that shit,» she laughed.
Wiping a hand over her face, she cleared her throat, «Fuck, I'm sorry. Work is a lot lately, and then there's the whole Wayne situation-»
Maggie chuckled as she poured herself a glass of wine, «Oh yeah, we're taking that deal by the way.»
«I told him you'd say 'take the offer' so I kinda already guessed,» she huffed and sat back in her chair. Maggie poured her a glass of wine as well and chuckled again as she put the empty bottle down on the table.
«You're unbelievable. You're the only girl in the city who sees having lunch with Bruce Wayne as tedious.»
Murphy threw her hands up in defense, «There's something off about the guy.»
Maggie groaned, «Come on!»
«Seriously! Why the hell is he so invested, in more ways than one, in fucking himself over?»
Maggie shook her head, «Honey, your pessimism is showing.»
«Ah, ah, ah! It's called skepticism, and it's saved me more than once.»
«I don't understand how you see this as a bad deal!»
Taking a large sip of her wine she shrugged, «If something seems too good to be true then it probably is.»
Maggie looked at her with a deadpan expression that always made Murphy laugh. It was the 'I've had enough of your shit' look.
«What are you complaining about? I'm going to the damn lunch!»
«Yes, poor you, forced to lunch with the most eligible bachelor on the East Coast.»
«I love it when you're sarcastic, it's like seeing a shooting star,» she leaned back and smiled.
«Oh, everything I do for you!» Maggie exclaimed dramatically as she walked into the kitchen.
Murphy sat around Maggie's kitchen table with a content smile. This is what she'd been looking forward to all day. The only person she was comfortable around was Maggie. She was the only person that knew her and Murphy always forgot how much of a guard she put up around absolutely everyone else. It would be such a fucking relief to just sit down with her, even in silence and not feel that god awful knot in her stomach.
«Now that you're back in the game wanna take a few more shifts?» Maggie called from the kitchen. Murphy had at the most over the past few weeks, had two shifts a week. She knew they needed more help, but was scared of overworking herself as she had earlier. There just weren't any trained nurses or doctors who would volunteer for a job like that. A job that didn't come with a paycheck, but with a 50/50 chance of assault or death.
«Alright, can I do Thursdays in addition to the Saturdays and Sundays?» she asked as Maggie came back out with another bottle of wine.
«Deal!» she smiled and set the wine on the table between them.
«By the way, I've meant to ask,» Maggie said as she sat back down. «When's the last time you played the piano?»
Murphy raised her brows in surprise; she had to think way back, «Uh, college? I think?»
«You need a hobby; you're working two very shitty jobs, you need an outlet.» Maggie looked at her with a severe expression.
«Hey, I've got a billionaire boy-toy now!» she gasped in a faux offense.
Maggie pointed a finger at her, «Don't deflect, I'm serious!»
Murphy chuckled, «Okay if you tell me where the hell I'll get the money for a piano, even a keyboard, I'm all ears.»
The blonde sighed, «Just keep it in mind, it doesn't have to cost money.»
«Alright, I will. Though to be honest, I think you need a hobby more than me.»
«I do have one,» she said matter-of-factly.
Murphy perked up, «Oh?»
«Shooting range. Helps me de-stress,» Maggie took a sip of her wine.
«You carry now, right?»
«Yup,» she nodded. «Wanna compare?» she grinned, and Murphy let out a laugh.
They both went to retrieve their gun and almost giddy they returned to their seats. Immediately Maggie groaned.
«Goddammit, yours is so pretty!» she put her own gun on the table in a defeated manner. Murphy had to admit; her gun was pretty though it felt like the last word you should use to describe a weapon that's made to injure or kill. The carved pattern of tiny flowers along the barrel and her name inscribed on the left side. Light blue panels on the side of the barrel and the grip made it look near childish, but in reality, she loved it. Maggie's gun, she looked over with a laugh, was just a plain, black handgun.
«Whoever you bought that from, I need his number,» she nodded at it, wine glass in hand.
«Hey, yours is anonymous. That's preferable.»
«I guess,» Maggie shrugged with a smile. They sat there in a content silence for a while, before she heard Maggies speak, her voice changed. It had a more serious tone.
«Hey, I'm sorry about Lillian.»
Murphy smiled with a shrug, «It is what it is. Gotta be honest though, I'm not looking forward to her finding out about that damn lunch. Earlier when she saw me with him, I swear to God I thought she was going to kill me.»
Maggie shook with a silent laughter as she threw her head back.
Murphy let out a cackle, «It's not funny! It's the first time that woman has actually scared me!»
«She's just the gift that keeps on giving,» Maggie laughed. The situation was so dangerous they couldn't do anything but laugh. Lillian was indeed the gift that kept on giving; nothing came as a shock anymore.
«If I die, she did it,» she turned to Maggie with a semi-serious expression.
«I'll remember to give that info to the cops when they ask,» she laughed.
They sat there for another hour before Murphy decided to head home. Walking even a few blocks when it was dark wasn't all that fun, even with a gun. A slightly drunk Maggie followed her the door and looked at her with a smirk as Murphy stood in the doorway.
«Get home safe, remember to text me.»
«I promise this time I won't forget,» Murphy smiled.
Maggie reached a hand out to her and brushed some of Murphy's hair away from her shoulder. Her smile returned as she withdrew her hand,
«By the way, I'm glad you found a cheap hobby,» she winked before closing the door and leaving Murphy with a tomato red face. Her hand immediately went up to the bruise on her neck, and she couldn't help but smile to herself as she made her way down to the streets and home.
Unlocking the door to her apartment, she pulled out her shitty pre-paid phone from her bag and sent the text she had promised Maggie.
'Made it home. Please drink some water before going to bed.'
Kicking off her shoes she unceremoniously threw her bag on the floor and cracked her neck as she walked into the eerily dark apartment. If she could afford it, she'd leave all the lights on at all times. She hated coming home to darkness; paranoia seemed to creep up on her. Though it wasn't all that dark outside, there weren't enough windows in the apartment to catch the last remaining lights. At the very least she had a window in her bedroom, though it was on the wrong side to find the morning lights.
She moved toward the living room with a sigh. Walking farther in and toward her bedroom, she stopped. Had it started raining? It was a clear night; there was no indication it would rain. Her pulse rose as she turned and took the few steps over to the bathroom door. Someone was in there. Drawing her gun, she turned the safety off and took a deep breath. Calmly she put her left hand on the door that was slightly ajar and silently pushed it open. Aiming at the anonymous silhouette, she pressed the trigger just as she lost her footing and slipped on the cheap linoleum floor. A loud bang erupted in the small bathroom and she saw a cloud of dust came from the corner of the room above the shower curtain, she could clearly see the hole she'd left in the wall. Panicked she looked to the floor and saw she had slipped in a puddle of what looked like watered out blood. Another round of panic hit her as she scrambled, crab crawling back until she hit the wall.
Heaving she looked at the shadow behind the curtain as she heard a high pitched laugh followed by a voice she immediately recognized,
«Woah, Woah, Woah!»
«What the fuck?!» she shouted, her voice hoarse as she scrambled up from the floor. She stared, wide-eyed at the silhouette.
«It's only me, babe!» he continued with a laugh.
«Is that supposed to calm me down?!» she hissed, her voice strained.
«You really wanna shoot a naked man?»
Breathing so hard she almost lost her breath she practically wheezed. «What the FUCK are you doing?!»
«Take a guess, sweetheart,» she could hear his smile.
«You're breaking into my apartment to shower?! I could have killed you!»
«Absolutely, you just need to work on your aim,» he said humorously and she just about sneered.
«Just get out!» she shouted, frustration coursing through her system, leaving her with shaking hands. What she didn't expect was him to open the curtain only to step out on to the floor completely naked with an innocent look on his face as he seemed to wait for further instructions. For a mere second, she let herself look at him and how the water clung to his chest, dripped from his hair and-
Spinning around she pressed herself up against the wall, hands on the wall and the gun still in her hand.
«Put some clothes on!» she shouted with a groan.
«Which one is it, get out or put some clothes on?»
«Both!»
«Then you should've specified; you got me all confused.»
«What are you doing here?»
Again he feigned innocence. «I think it's obvious-»
«Not to take a damn shower, what-are-you-doing-here?» she hit the barrel of the gun against the wall, emphasizing every syllable.
«I wanted to see you,» he said plainly as if it was just that simple.
«You always say that,» she sighed as she heard him take a step closer.
«It's always true.»
«Breaking into my apartment isn't helping convince me that you're not going to hurt me.»
«You're the one with the gun, Murph,» he murmured.
«You know what I mean! Stop with the damn semantics!»
She sucked in a breath as she felt him step right behind her, feeling his breath in her hair. «I just can't help it; it's so much fun to watch you squirm.»
«You purposely frustrate me,» she whispered.
«Yes,» he breathed in her ear, stepping even closer. «It just so happens, you frustrate me too.»
«How do you do that?»
«What?» she heard him smile.
«Break into my apartment and still somehow convince me that's what I want?»
«Because, uh, that is what you want.»
«Yeah, I want to see you, but that doesn't mean...this.»
She heard him chuckle, «If you want to see me you have to turn around.»
«You're naked,» she whispered childishly.
«Well, I don't shower with clothes on.»
She felt a silent laugh go through her, «You're so weir-»
In a few seconds, several things happened very quickly. He turned her around, sat her on the bathroom counter, put the safety on her gun and put it down on the opposite side of the bench before sneaking a hand into her hair as the other carefully, methodically stroked her face. It was something out of an action film.
«Dont' say that,» he whispered, «I don't want you calling me that,» it wasn't a warning, but more a soft breath that turned her insides to mush.
Before thinking she heard herself ask in a breath,
«Then what do you want me to say?» Because of their proximity, it came out much more sensual than she intended and he took it as an invitation to step even closer, his nose brushing hers.
A slow smile moved over his features and he grinned with a small groan. «I can think of a few things.»
«Why are you doing all of this? Why are you here?» she let out a breath as she stared at him with big eyes.
He closed his eyes with a hum and slowly moved back and forth as if he was dancing.
«We've been over this, baby. You already know.»
«I really don't,» she whispered honestly as his fingers gently stroked her cheek.
«I saw something I liked.»
«Like what?»
«Chaos swirling around the head of a beautiful girl,» he smiled.
«Chaos?»
He nodded, «Mhm, I was done for.»
«That word seems to describe you better than me,» she looked at him, trying to figure him out. Trying to figure out why she was dead set on figuring him out.
«Maybe that's why we go together like peanut butter and jelly,» he opened his eyes and winked.
Smirking he brushed his nose against hers and murmured, «Have you been drinking?»
«Y-yeah,» she breathed.
A chuckled came from his chest, «Good thing you have or my brains might be splattered all over your bathroom wall.»
She felt an uneasiness spread through her chest and limbs like she was in a car moving too fast and needed it to stop. She turned away from him and gently pushed against his arms, indicating that he'd let her go. Slowly he did, moving to the side and letting her jump down from the counter. Shakily she walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom right across the hall. He always did that to her; he was like a human Jack-in-the-box. Popping up when she least expected him and though she wanted to see him, wanted to be around him, he always jumped out when she least expected him, leaving her in a dulled sense of shock. A few days would go by and she'd process it, letting the memory of him mature in her mind. She stood in the middle of the bedroom, still reeling from his words and his touch. Her mind was speeding; she couldn't hold her thoughts together long enough to process them. He had hurt her and it took practically nothing for her to reach out to him, to change her mind. What did all of this mean? Was she getting involved with something she didn't understand? Was she biting off more than she could chew?
In the midst of the silent chaos, she heard a voice from the living room. A deep mumble with a few seconds break and then it continued. Was he on the phone? She peered out of the doorway and saw him standing by the couch, a pastel pink towel lazily wrapped around his waist. He threw the phone down on the couch and turned to her.
Before he could speak, she heard her shaky voice ask, «You couldn't put on some real clothes?»
«They're on the way,» he smirked.
She frowned, trying to understand what the hell that meant. «Who-wha, I don't-»
«I couldn't put on dirty clothes now, could I?» he raised his brows and took a step toward her. «Does it bother you that much?»
«You're an attractive guy I shouldn't be attracted so yeah, it bothers me that you're in my apartment practically naked,» she heard her voice shiver and cleared her throat.
He smiled, «Ah. So we're back to playing that game.»
She shook her head and fully stepped out of from the doorway she'd practically been hiding behind,
«No, no games. I could deal with, not necessarily understand, but deal with the whole mobster killing, costume wearing thing you have going on, but I have to draw the line somewhere. Digging into my life and acting like you know me is a whole different issue!»
His looks softened, «Do I have to give you the 'I won't hurt you' speech again?»
She shook her head and turned away, «No need. I'll know you're lying this time.»
Drawing a sharp breath, she felt him move to stand in front of her. She cursed under her breath and paced where she stood.
«I was having an okay day before you showed up, y'know?»
«I'm here to make it a great day,» he spoke softly.
She swallowed hard, still not looking at him. «This is...this isn't good, I don't like this.»
«I know for a fact that you do,» he continued, as calm as ever.
She felt her jaw clench as she snapped her head up to look at him, «Does it look like I do?!»
He smiled softly, matter-of-factly, «Yeah.»
She drew a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm both her thoughts and her body. Right then a loud knock came from the door and she snapped her head up to look toward the front door.
He moved toward her and calmly pressed a kiss to her forehead before whispering,
«I'll get it.»
She didn't know what to do; she had no idea how to manage the situation. A murmur of voices, well, his voice came from the door and he was talking to whoever was there. Pacing between the hallway and her bedroom she tried not to panic though her hands were still shaking. It didn't take long before she saw him saunter over, still wearing that ridiculous towel and carrying a black duffle bag. He stood there and looked at her, that's all he did. It was a calm expression, so different from hers.
«Who was that? Who are you?» she looked at him with wide eyes.
«I got my clothes,» he smiled and lifted the bag as if to show her.
«Who the fuck gets their clothes delivered?» she whined as she covered her face in her frustration.
«You did tell me to put some clothes on, Murph. I couldn't put the dirty ones back on, could I?» she heard the smirk in his voice as he put the bag down on the floor.
«Fucking stop that,» she groaned as she turned to the bedroom. Seconds later she heard him in the doorway.
«Okay, okay, I'll give it a break. Would you calm down and talk to me now?»
She turned to see him half-naked in the doorway to her bedroom and had to bite the inside of her cheek not to blurt out something stupid. He was so fucking weird but equally as handsome and charismatic. Despite the confusion she felt, she also felt that warmth spread through her chest.
«You haven't put the clothes on,» she swallowed.
Not losing eye contact he slowly shook his head, «You don't want me to.»
She released a rough breath and felt her face flush as she turned away. There was nothing she could say to that, deny it and he could call her bluff, admit it and have to deal with him being right. Which of course, he was. Though she was holding on to control for dear life, she was utterly unable to control her reactions to him. She was embarrassed over how quickly and apparently she wanted him.
A soft touch to the back of her neck shook her back into real time. Her breath caught in her throat and she stumbled forward before his arm anchored around her waist and gently pulled her back to his chest. She swallowed as she felt his breath in her hair and the strange safety of his arms around her. Biting her lip, she felt the sadness wash over her,
«You should find yourself another girl,» she mumbled weakly. «Someone who doesn't get panic attacks when you touch her, someone who isn't hermetically sealed emotionally. Someone who isn't a hesitant child.»
He shook his head slowly against her neck, «No,» she heard his smooth voice say simply.
She huffed, «That's just stupid.»
«It's anything but.»
She sighed and let herself relax against him. «I don't know what to do,» she whispered. «I bet this wasn't what you had in mind when you came here tonight,» she smiled.
«I don't plan on anything; I never know what to expect with you.»
She couldn't help but let out a laugh at that, out of the two she was not the surprising or impulsive one.
«What?» she felt him smile against her neck.
«I could say the same thing about you, that's all.» she smiled to herself and lightly let her palm smooth over the arm he had snaked around her waist. Slowly, hesitantly she turned around in his arms without pulling away. She suppressed a giggle as her nose brushed against his chest, his skin was surprisingly hot to the touch and she wasn't about to lie to herself, she'd imagined this sort of scenario many times. Slowly she let her hands move over his chest and up to his face. It was as though she was trying to soak him up, to get to know him differently. He didn't say anything just let her touch him and bent his head down, giving her better access.
«I don't have people this close,» she whispered.
«I know,» he said calmly as if he really did understand.
She moved even closer, removing the one inch of distance between them. Reaching up she placed a kiss at the hollow of his throat. Her fingers carefully followed every bump of his muscles and curve of his shoulders like she was trying to commit them to memory. She touched him almost awkwardly; she needed to see what it was like and how it felt. For the first time in her life she wanted to be honest with a guy, she wanted everything she did with him to be honest because if not she knew she'd force herself to do things she wasn't ready for and the whole thing would be doomed.
«I'm just...trying to get used to it,» she flicked her eyes up to look at him and his eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open.
«I don't mind,» he breathed and she couldn't help but smile. Reaching up with her hands she stroked his cheeks, his scars, the way he liked.
He let out a breath and trailed his fingers over her face, mirroring her actions. Gently pushing a stray curl out of her face, he tucked it behind her ear carefully. Trailing his finger down her neck he pushed her hair away, exposing her neck and most importantly the mark he'd left on her a week prior. She felt a blush move over her face as she smiled shyly and felt his thumb circle the mark softly. Moving his hands down, he placed them under her blouse, on her lower back and she drew a sharp breath. This was what she was afraid of. This seemingly small thing, this was where she drew the line.
She pulled away, not far, but enough to make his hands fall from her. She could hear his questions though none were spoken.
«I don't look like other girls,» she croaked, ashamed. Ashamed because deep down, she didn't think this strange man would reject her over something so petty. The humiliation and rejection she'd gotten from so many others, she was just about sure this man would replicate it. That was just it though; she was just about sure.
«Tell me,» she heard his soft yet steady voice speak.
«I have-uh, my skin is...» she mumbled and locked her arms around herself, looking anywhere but him.
Moving his face down closer to hers, essentially forcing her to look at him he spoke again,
«Show me. Baby, I promise you there's nothing so bad it'll scare me off.»
She cleared her throat and forced the words out before she had a chance to take it back,
«I have scars. A lot of 'em.»
Swallowing hard she took a step away from him and pulled her blouse over her head, followed by the tank top she wore underneath. Unbuttoning her jeans, she tried as gracefully as she could to remove her jeans without falling over. In a moment she was standing there in her underwear, more exposed to him than she had ever been before. It had been years since she had undressed in front of anybody. No trips to the beach, no sunbathing and no crop tops. Whenever she thought someone might see, if she had worn a short sweater that accidentally was pulled up it was like an electric shock had gone through her, causing her to embarrass herself in different social situations. It was such a big reason she lived the way she did and held herself the way she did. To voulnteerly expose someone else to it felt worse than having it be exposed without her consent.
Her breathing anything but steady she slowly turned herself around, letting him see the 'full picture.' Clenching her jaw, she braced herself for everything she didn't expect. Though she didn't see it for herself, she saw flashes of it in her head. She knew every scar, had spent so much time wishing she could cut them off her skin. From the many smaller, half-inch long cuts trailing from her lower back to her midriff and the sides of her stomach to the protruding, long and ugly scars. They were the worst ones, the ones she genuinely hated. The many other scars scattered over her body didn't bother her much compared to the two worst ones. One on the lower part on the left side of her stomach, another up by her ribs. All of them were thick and stuck out of her skin; she couldn't help but think of a guy in college who had referred to them as her 'scales'.
She drew a breath and spoke, «I thought it would be better if I let you see them before, y'know.»
In a flash, he was on his knees right next to her abhorrent marks, still in that towel and his palms touched her skin gingerly. She looked down at him in shock and confusion as he kissed her scars slowly and meticulously. His arms held her steady as he slowly turned her around, his lips following.
He came to a stop and looked up at her, his breath heavy, she swore she would swoon,
«Did you think I'd run?» he asked as if the mere insinuation was ridiculous.
She spoke, but her voice was quieter than she expected. «I didn't know what you'd do.»
Just the fact that she was so embarrassed and ashamed over her scars around him doubled the embarrassment. How would he feel, having visible facial scars and having experienced, she assumed, way more discrimination and rejection than she ever did, react to her being so ashamed of her own scars. As cliched as it sounded, she liked his, she adored them the same way she adored every other part of him. Their eyes never left the others and she felt her skin flush at how she had a massive, consuming crush on a man who was currently kneeling in front of her, half-naked. Her whole world at that moment was fixated, tuned in to him, in fact, every moment with him was like that. Like there was no other world.
He was so downright beautiful at that moment she needed to kiss him. She leaned down, attempted to kneel down with him, but before she got that far his arms were around her and she was lifted up. Next thing she knew she was straddling his lap as he sat them down on the bed.
«Have you been this scared of showing me?» his eyes were raw, genuine as he smoothed over her hair with his hand.
She could have given him a big explanation, told him about the comments and rejection she'd received over the years, but she knew he already knew. If there was anybody that understood it was him. All she could do was nod and try not to pout like a child.
«Yeah,» she breathed and inched herself closer to him, resting her forehead against his as he with a bit more force than before, slid his hands over her scars repeatedly.
«What made you think I'd react in any other way than I did, huh?» he breathed, his brows furrowed as she looked at her.
«Because everybody always has the same reaction to how I look,» she whispered as she twirled a lock of his hair between her fingers absentmindedly.
«I'm not everybody else.»
A smile broke out on her face, «No, you're not.»
«I guess I was more scared what you'll do when you figure it out,» she continued.
«And what's that?» he humored her, his hands slowly moving up and down her back, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.
«When you solve the mystery. What about when you figure me out and I'm not that interesting? Nobody gives a shit about a solved mystery.»
He put his lips and teeth to the already existing mark on her throat; she let out a surprised gasp at the sensation. His arms snaked around her possessively, pulling her even closer to him and leaving no room between them.
«You're no mystery, I've already figured you out and I'm still here and I want more,» he breathed against her skin.
When she leaned in to finally kiss him, to do what she had wanted to do all night, he beat her to it and met her in a bruising kiss. In contrast to the calm conversation they'd had, this was anything but calm. Burying both her hands in his hair she pulled at it, making him bend his head back with a groan. The feeling of his skin against hers was enough to make her dizzy and let out a whimper as he bit and sucked her earlobe. She felt him groan loudly at that and kiss her hard again, both of them pushing themselves against the other. Between gasps and busy hands, his went to her back and undid her bra in a swift move before dropping it on the floor with her other clothes. She couldn't help but moan as they teasingly moved against each other and heard a small growl from his chest. It was like she was enveloped in a warmth she'd never felt before, like a fog that she never wanted to get out of. Placing both hands on the back of his neck she kissed him deeply as she rolled her hips over his. She felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth just from the sound he made and the hardness she felt underneath herself. To have him react to her at all was a self-confidence boost, but that he'd seen what she was so scared for him to see and still desired her added to her own growing desire. Just then he flipped them around, laying her down on the bed and sliding his hands down her ribs and to her hips. Leaving a wet trail of hurried kisses down her thighs to her knees, she let out a quiet moan as his fingers moved to the fabric of her underwear. Agonizingly slowly he pulled it off her, fingers trailing her skin as he slid it, letting it fall to the floor. To her surprise, he hooked her legs around each of his shoulders, elevating her slightly from the bed. She opened her mouth to speak but was immediately silenced as she felt to of his fingers slide down her clit and tease at her entrance. She moaned and pushed her head back against the mattress with a whimper.
She could hear how rough his breathing was, matching her own,
«Fuck, baby. You're dripping.»
She couldn't speak even if she wanted to, only nod and hope he would continue what he was doing with his hands. He did just that, letting two fingers enter her and she felt herself clamp around him. She needed to touch him, needed him closer, needed all of him. As his fingers moved faster, she whimpered and closed her eyes, trying to reach out her arms to him.
He did come closer, bending down to a mere inch from her face,
«Ah, ah, ah, I've got one rule for you, princess.» she felt his hot breath on her face and wished she had the will and strength to grab hold of him and drop the torture.
«I thought you didn't like rules,» she managed to whimper. Whenever she made a sound like that she could hear the rumble in his chest.
«That's very true, but for you, I'll make a very special exception,» he breathed deliciously as he added his thumb to her clit causing her to rise from the bed and move against him, begging him to speed things up.
His other hand went to her face, gently caressing it, «I need you to look at me, don't close your eyes or I'll stop.»
Whimpering in frustration, she wasn't sure she even knew how to open her eyes,
«I don't think I can.»
«Then the both of us will be very disappointed, baby,» he let out a soft groan and she felt his breath on her face, his tone touching hers. She audibly moaned and whimpered in frustration; suddenly this simple thing seemed like an impossible task.
His lips just barely touched her cheek as she whispered, his breath ragged,
«You frustrate me and in return, I frustrate you. You want me as much as I want you.»
With that, she forced her eyes open to look right into his. He smiled as he let out a ragged breath,
«Good girl,» he whispered and she internally cursed at how handsome this man was. Doing her very best not to close her eyes or take her eyes off him in any way, she moaned as his fingers moved faster and harder. She had to grab a chunk of his hair to keep her from throwing her head back. It felt even more intimate having to look at the man that was making her feel that way. His eyes were hooded and he seemed more focused and intense than she had ever seen him. The result of his arousal pressed against the inside of her thigh and she needed it, she needed him more than she could put in words.
«Baby, I need-I can't wait. Please,» she whimpered with furrowed brows as she looked right at him like she'd been told. In a short second his fingers withdrew from her and she whimpered at the loss of contact. He put her back on his lap and she moaned as she realized the towel was gone. She didn't hesitate to move against him, trying to find the right position. He let out a hiss and his eyes shut as she moved, she loved the sounds made more than she ever thought she would. She situated herself and rolled her hips again, not taking all of him in but enough to hear a throaty groan escape the man. Leaning forward she sucked his lower lip as she rolled her hips and took all of him in with a long moan. Her vision went black for a few seconds and though there was some pain when it mixed with the pleasure and the feel of him around her, she let out a raw whimper followed by a moan.
When she started moving against him again and felt him join in on the rhythm and slide a hand up her back. Remembering what he said about eye-contact she opened her eyes to see him breathe heavily, a drop of sweat rolling down his cheek down to his neck. Bending her head down she licked the trail from his neck up to the scar on his left cheek. Pushing her hair out of her face in a downright sweet gesture she moaned at her way his breath fanned her cheek and how intensely she wanted him. If she knew fucking him felt that good she would have jumped his bones the first chance she got. Reaching his hand up to her face he let his still wet thumb trail her lips before she moved forward and took it in her mouth and sucked it. Closing his eyes, he drew a quick breath that only spurred her on more as she sucked every finger he had used to tease her with shamelessly. His curses and groans encouraged her to move against him harder; she wanted, needed to hear him. In a swift move, he picked her up and wrapped her legs around him before walking away from to the bed to push her up against a wall with a growl. She needed him if there was pain she'd wanted, she was in a world of only her and him and the desire she felt was consuming everything.
Reaching her arms around his neck, she tugged on his hair before forcing a string of words together,
«More, please, harder,» she whimpered and a mere second later she moaned loudly when he entered her with without restraint. It was rough, hard and they both grunted and groaned with every thrust. Sucking and biting his lips and he sucked and bit her neck down to her shoulder as they crashed against the wall in an increasing rhythm. If they actually broke the wall down she couldn't care less; she might not even lie to her landlord, she was too proud of her achievement. Groaning she buried her hand in his hair and clawed at his scalp, feeling her breath catch in her throat as something was gradually building to explode. She felt the coat of sweat that covered them, drops running down her back.
When he spoke his voice was rough and strained, his breath erratic,
«Look at me.»
She hadn't realized her eyes were closed as she bit down on her lip, forcing her face up to meet his she did what he asked. His face had softened and the way he looked at her made her moan
«No,» he breathed as his hand went up to pull her lip from her bite earning him a moan, «I need to hear you.»
Clinging on to him for dear life as she tried not to bite her lip and not to close her eyes, her breath caught in her throat and she knew she was about to explode.
«Beautiful. You're fucking beautiful,» his deep brown eyes looked at her with adoration as he groaned with clenched teeth. Pressing her forehead against his, looking back at him and trying to convey the same emotion back to him, she whimpered,
«So are you.»
Her breathing started building, it became harder and harder to keep her eyes open, but she wanted him to be proud, she wanted to do as she was told. She nearly sobbed as she clung to him desperately and heard her breath increase rapidly. She wanted to kiss him, but that was probably against the rules, right? He looked so perfect; he felt so perfect, she couldn't help herself as she leaned forward fast and kissed him insistently. Immediately she heard and felt a growl from him and he jerked back a little without messing up his rhythm or breaking the kiss. With a deep exhale he kissed her back and a muted sob rang through her chest. He pulled away and she was closing in on her end, breathing erratically and looking at him with a pure desperation she spoke in a near sob.
«I'm sorry, I had to, I just had to-»
Quickly cutting her off with a deep kiss he spoke tenderly,
«That's okay, baby, you won't hear me complain,» his voice was just as strained as hers and she held on to him tighter, never losing eye contact.
«Fuck, fuck, fuck, you're perfect,» she hissed and breathed desperately.
«So are you,» he whispered strained, repeating her words from just a few moments earlier.
Two quick, deep breaths later and she grabbed on to him for dear life as her vision went black and she heard herself vocalize everything she felt without restraint. She heard him do the same and thrust into her one last time before pushing her back against the wall and groaning loudly into her hair. Their breaths were heavy and they were both covered in sweat as she absentmindedly let her hand moved from his neck and down his back. Left in this almost suffocating embrace, she made her fingers comb through his hair and moved her head down, pressing a kiss to the spot behind his ear. His breathing was still heavy and he must've been as exhausted as her. Coming back down from the high she felt him pull out of her, letting out a small whimper as he did. Lifting her spent body up and away from the wall, he kissed every part of her face he could reach, earning a giggle from her as he kissed along her jawline and throat. Gently laying her down in the bed he got in next to her, softly trailing his fingers up and down her arm and torso. It was a soothing rhythm; she closed her eyes as her breathing slowed. The day crept up on her and she felt her eyelids grow heavy. She didn't want to sleep; she wanted to stay up and look at the man next to her, talk to him, kiss and touch him. As much as she tried to shake herself out of it, she was too tired to stay awake.
«Can we do that again and again and again please?» she mumbled as she inched closer to kiss his chest.
«Absolutely,» he whispered and kissed the top of her head. She let her hands gently move through his hair and moved up to kiss him.
«Don't leave yet,» she whispered back.
«I wasn't planning on it,» he moved her closer and pulled a sheet over them. Wrapped around him and his warmth she felt her eyes close and sleep take over her, dozing off in his arms.
One last whisper, a promise was whispered by the one person who was not asleep,
«See you soon, angel.»
