XI. Unfinished Business
I wanted to take him home
and rough him up and get my hands inside him, drive my body into his
like a crash test car.
I wanted to be wanted and he was
very beautiful, kissed with his eyes closed, and only felt good while moving.
-Richard Siken
It started out innocently enough. Some might say that the stepbrother had snapped, while others say that it was merely because he'd been married for so long that he'd forgotten what it was like to do something reckless. Lately it seemed as though there were two Sebastians. One was the cocky teenager who liked to fuck around and the other was a man who was genuinely happy to have something stable after having lived a life of instability.
He knew of course that he should have followed Kathryn's lead, that he should have been thankful she always found ways to evade him. But it always seemed that the farther she seemed, the more he wanted to spend time with her. When he was with her, it was like there was another part of his life that would open up, a part that he was never aware of. It never mattered that they were just out having lunch or coffee. It never mattered that they were surrounded by about ten executives. She challenged him in ways he had never been challenged, and in the many years that she was gone, he had missed having that around.
It was on that particular night, after a very long meeting with Valmont Enterprises' board of directors, that Sebastian received a text message from Kathryn.
Plans?
He stopped walking and stared at his mobile phone for what seemed like ages before replying.
Going home. Long day. Why?
That time, her reply didn't take over half an hour to arrive.
Join me. Our place.
It must be said that the stepbrother was currently suffering from a migraine and up until receiving that text message, wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep.
Still, he replied.
15 minutes.
-0-0-0-
It was around 20 minutes when he arrived at their old townhouse. Since no one lived in it anymore, it seemed bigger given the absence of a staff. Nearly everything was covered in a white sheet, but the lights were all open. He could hear music down the hall.
"Kathryn?" He called out, trying to ignore the fact that his palms had started to sweat.
"In here," She replied over the music.
He found her in her old room, seated in front of her vanity table. She held a glass of scotch in her hand, smiling up at him.
"Hi," she said. "Can I get you a drink?"
"Yes, please." He replied, unsure of what to do.
She stood up, walking to the mini bar. "I only have scotch, is that okay?"
He nodded, his throat suddenly dry.
"Seb, relax." She laughed at his discomfort, noticing that he hadn't moved an inch. She placed the glass down and walked towards him, her green eyes warm and beautiful. "It's me. I know you're caught off guard because I'm not trying to fuck you up or hurt you but it's me. It's Kathryn. Relax. You're home."
As if to prove her point, her pale hands grasped his blazer, sliding it off him. She kept her eyes on him as she did so, her fingers brushing against the defined musculature of his arms. She tossed the blazer on the bed without looking, and then proceeded to fold his sleeves and push it upward to reveal his forearms.
"Rough day?" She asked softly.
He nodded.
"Me, too."
She loosened his tie for him. He stared at her face intently, his fingers twitching, unsure what to do. It was a gesture that lasted a couple of seconds but it seemed longer. When his tie was properly loosened, she took it off and threw it on the floor.
Her eyes traveled to his throat, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. She stared at him and narrowed her eyes, as though trying to figure something out.
"What is it?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Quiet," she replied, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, tousling it. Her fingertips touched the newly exposed skin on his upper chest. She stood so close he could see her lowered lids, her eyelashes long and curled.
"There," she announced, smiling. "Like before."
"Not quite," he grabbed her wrists just as she was about to pull away. He could feel her pulse quicken, but despite the tight grip, she never flinched. She stared at him, refusing to back down. It was the same expression she'd sometimes have during their debates at work, and it had been the same expression back when they were at Manchester Prep. It was one of the things he loved about her, the unflinching stare, the quiet strength, and that goddamn gorgeous face of hers.
"Let go," she said.
"But it's my turn," he replied, surprised at how strong his voice suddenly was.
"Is it now?" Kathryn mused, smiling. "And how would Annette react to you touching me?"
He didn't speak, but his grip loosened. Her wrists were red, but still, she never winced. He couldn't stop staring at her, and no matter how intense his gaze was, she never looked away.
"Enough." She said.
"It never is."
He grabbed her shoulders, slamming her against the wall.
"There," she whispered, tilting her neck. Her parted lips touched his, her tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. "Like before,"
He felt her breath enter his mouth, and every single thought in his head just disappeared. He kissed her, growling when she bit his lip. She pulled his shirt apart, ignoring the sound of buttons hitting the floor. He kissed her neck, wincing as her nails dug against his skin.
"Did you miss me?" she grinned, her eyes dark and mischievous as she pushed him against her drawer, causing the mirror to break as he crashed against it.
"Yes, and fuck, you're rough." he tried to ignore the pain that reverberated through his body as he pulled her top off her head and unhooked her bra. "I think you just cut my back."
"Did I?" She stopped kissing him, pausing to look at the reflection of his bleeding lower back. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was tousled and her arms were still resting on his shoulders. "Wait, stand up. Let me see."
He complied, standing still while she examined the wound.
"The wound isn't that deep," she commented.
"Yeah, I suppose I'm just a bleeder."
"Let's check. Does this hurt?"
She crammed her fingernails against the cut, smiling devilishly as he swore.
"Bitch!"
"Potty mouth," she kissed the bleeding wound before kissing the back of his neck.
"That really hurt, Kathryn." He complained, turning to glare at her.
"I'm sorry," she pouted, looking very much like an innocent schoolgirl. "I just missed slamming you around. Like before, don't you remember?"
"I do, Kate. But now's different, okay?" He cupped her face, running his thumb over her mouth. He brushed her hair back with gentle hands. "How about we go easy on each other this time?"
"No," She replied, her gaze becoming hard "Fuck me."
She kissed him, and he could taste the alcohol in her breath. Her hands grasped him as though she was drowning, as though she wanted to crawl into him. It was when she pulled away to take off her underwear that he sensed something was very different. The serene expression he had so admired was now gone, and when she looked at him, it seemed as though it wasn't him she saw, but one of her faceless fucktoys. It felt wrong, and he tried to stifle a groan as her skillful hand began stroking him. He had to stay focused. He felt like his body was trying to throw him into two different directions, for of course he wanted to be inside her again, and yet he knew that if he did, it would have been all wrong.
"Wait," he gasped, shutting his eyes tightly as she started kissing his neck.
"Be quiet and just fuck me," she hissed.
There was something about her voice that made him look at her, and as he did, he found her gaze so intense and pleading at the same time.
"This is what you wanted," she said quietly. "This is what I need right now. So just be quiet and fuck me."
"Do you… do you want to just talk about it?"
"No, I don't. I just want you to fuck the shit out of me. What happened to you? Since when have you become Mr. Feelings? If I recall correctly, you saved all of that for Annette and left the fucking for me."
"Fine," he said. "You want me to fuck you?"
"Yes," she replied. "Hard. I want it to hurt."
He complied, picking her up and slamming her against the cabinet. She cried out in pain, but the pain only seemed to fuel her more. She slapped his face, her green eyes filled with a hate he couldn't understand.
"Wait," he said, putting her down. She reached out for him but he took a step back, grabbing her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and dark, uncomprehending anything else but lust. There was a glow on her face, her mouth slightly parted, imploring him, seducing him, calling out to him. He tried not to stare at her half naked body, at the same smooth skin he had touched all those years ago.
"Why?" Kathryn's arms slowly went down, and a strange calm came over her.
They stared at each other for what seemed like ages, both of them looking disheveled and slightly flushed. He had scratch marks on his shoulders and there was a bruise on her arm.
Her eyes moved to the wedding band on his finger.
"Is it the ring?" She asked.
He blinked, looking at his left hand as though noticing the ring for the first time. The platinum band glinted in the dimly lit room, and it suddenly felt cold against his skin.
"No," he said. "It's not the ring."
"Then what?"
"You want to have sex because you're mad about something. I don't want to be used like that."
"We used each other like last time," Kathryn countered, putting on her blouse and brushing past him. "What changed?"
"You left," he watched her as she turned around, but her expression gave nothing away.
"So what?"
"I don't want you to leave again."
He saw her lips part, as though she was going to say something. He waited for her voice but nothing came out. He couldn't look at her eyes, so he just focused at her mouth. Pale pink, devoid of lipstick. Soft and full. He was now very aware that he was disheveled, bruised, and half naked. For some reason, he felt the need to put his clothes on. Although he had never felt anything akin to modesty when it came to how he looked, her stare made him feel as though she was peering into him, and it was a feeling he didn't particularly enjoy. Sebastian grabbed his shirt off the floor and put it on, glad to have something else to do.
"Hey, Seb." Her voice sounded strange. Hesitant.
He looked up.
""Do you remember the time we worked together to bring that whore Cassie Collins down?""
He smiled at the memory. "Yes, of course. For reasons I still can't fathom, she actually wanted to fuck Blaine more than me. We made Tuttle fuck her, and when he couldn't get it up, he just went down on her to keep her from getting suspicious. He was so disgusted he brushed his teeth for an hour afterwards."
Kathryn's lips turned up, and her smile grew until it turned into a full-fledged chuckle. "God, that was amusing. He hated me for weeks."
"He got over it pretty soon. You did hook him up with a male model."
"I didn't actually. I wanted Jean Pierre for myself. I just pretended I brought him for Tuttle after I caught him with his tongue down Blaine's throat."
"Really?" He laughed again, and she smiled.
"This is nice," she said. "By now I thought I was going to have you on top of me, but this is nice."
"Why did you want to have sex?"
"I was horny."
"The real reason, Kathryn."
She smiled, but he noticed her eyes were sad. "Nothing for you to concern yourself with, Valmont."
"Maybe I care,"
"Maybe you're just being nosy,"
"Maybe you want me to care but you're just too full of yourself to admit it," He countered, and then frowned as he felt his head pound with the migraine that he'd forgotten about when they had been kissing. "Fuck."
"What's wrong?" she frowned, peering at him.
"Migraine. Long day."
"Lie down,"
He gave her a look.
"Oh, you pervert. I meant rest here. Sleep here. I'll sleep in your old room. You can have this one."
"I think this is the only clean room in the house. Everything else is dusty."
"How would you know?"
"I used to come here sometimes."
"You'd go to my room?"
"Yes,"
"Why?"
"I thought maybe if I was here, you'd come back."
"Oh. Okay. Then I'll just leave."
"Don't. Just lie with me. This bed's pretty big."
"That's weird. We'd lie together without having sex?"
"Well, you could blow me if you want to."
"You're such a pig."
"Only joking." He slipped under the covers, rubbing his hurting forehead. "Come here."
She settled on the other side, looking uncomfortable. "Now what?"
"If you don't want to blow me, maybe a hand job?"
She smacked his head, "Sebastian!"
"Ow! Geez you're violent. I was kidding. Now nothing. Talk to me. How was your day?"
She started talking about mergers and acquisitions, and although he understood the first five sentences, eventually, his migraine worsened and he couldn't fully concentrate. Still, it didn't matter. The night wore on, and her voice filled the air. It made the cold room warmer, and he paid more attention to the way the moonlight seemed to caress her face. He could feel himself starting to fall asleep, but he struggled to stay awake. Technically they weren't physically touching but the proximity made him feel at ease. He realized that this was more intimate than fucking, and he wasn't sure whether to be alarmed or glad at the thought.
His headache went away, and he had been asleep for a couple minutes when he was roused by a sudden movement and a buzzing sound on the floor. He reached over and grabbed his vibrating phone, squinting at the screen.
It was Annette.
"You should go," she said, sounding like she had been up the entire time. Her back was turned to him and it was only then that he saw a jagged scar on the lower right side. The mottled flesh looked strange against her otherwise pale skin.
He glanced at the phone, and then at her scarred back again. The vibrating finally stopped, and he turned the phone off. The unfamiliar mark on her body may or may not have been significant, but for him, it was a reminder of the years they spent apart. Once again, he realized that there were so many things to know about her, so many stories that he couldn't explain why he wanted to know. His imagination went into overdrive, wondering about that mark, wondering why she didn't just have it treated by a plastic surgeon.
He wanted to ask her so many things, but he didn't know where to start. Instead, he placed the phone on the side table and bridged the gap between them, brushing his mouth against her neck, his hands rubbing between her legs.
"Is this what you really need right now?" he asked quietly, feeling her breath quicken, her body respond.
"Yes," she said, facing him. Her eyes were alert; dark with arousal and something else he couldn't understand. It seemed like a void, like a hollow sadness that couldn't be filled no matter how hard he tried.
"What happened?" He asked, his fingers now slick and warm inside her.
She kissed him, and he gave her everything she needed. It didn't matter that she got her way, or that he had surrendered to her. All he kept seeing were her sad eyes, all he kept feeling was the rough desperation in her kisses, and the way her nails angrily raked across his skin. During that moment, all he ever wanted to do was to make her forget everything else she wanted to run away from.
A/N: Hello again, everyone. Drop a line, say hello. I hope you're all doing well.