It was nearly eleven at night when there was a knock on Emily's front door, startling her from where she'd fallen asleep in front of the TV (she didn't normally make it a habit to watch TV late into the night, but on that particular occasion, she was feeling particularly lonely...). Answering the door wearing a sweatshirt she'd stolen from Clyde years ago (and little else), she was rather surprised to find Clyde standing there like he'd never left.

He said nothing, simply surging forward to kiss her hungrily. She moaned softly into the kiss, fisting her hands in his shirt and using her grip to pull him into the house.

Following the silent command, he kicked the door shut behind him. His hands wandered to the hem of her sweatshirt, slipping under it, smirking against her lips when he found nothing underneath.

She pushed his leather jacket off his shoulders and immediately proceeded to work on his belt, all too eager to reciprocate his amorous intentions – afterall, she'd been lonely...

His one hand gripped at her hip, sure to leave bruises where his fingertips pressed, not that she was about to complain. His other hand wound in her hair, tugging just the slightest bit, making her gasp.

Once she'd unfastened his belt, her hands made quick work of his zipper, then reached into his boxers to pull free his cock. She pumped her hand up and down his length a few times before he wrapped a hand around her wrist to stop her.

"Get on your hands and knees," he commanded, in spite of the fact that they'd only made it to the stairs. That didn't stop her from complying, though – she's always had a bit of an exhibitionist streak in her.

For a few moments, he simply took in the sight of her on all fours before him, stroking his cock as he enjoyed the view.

She glanced at him over her shoulder and sassed, "Are you just going to stand there and stare or are you going to fuck me?"

He chuckled. "Patience, Darling." Shucking off his jeans, he approached behind her, lining himself up with her entrance and pushing inside.

Emily cried out at the intrusion, pushing back to take him in to the hilt. "Fuck, Clyde!" she hissed as she started moving his hips, thrusting in and out.

"God, Em..." he groaned. "You feel so good..." His hands found their way to cup her breasts, gripping them tight and pinching her nipples, rolling them between his fingers.

"Clyde, I'm not going to last if you keep doing that," she warned breathily.

He sped up his thrusts. "I want you to cum for me and I want to hear you," he ordered.

She panted, sweat beading along her brow. She moaned, whimpered as his hand moved to her clit, working the sensitive bud with skilled fingers. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she cursed.

"Em," he moaned, "I love your tight little pussy..."

With a hoarse cry, Emily finally came, her body going taut like a bow string as she did. With a few more thrusts, Clyde followed soon after, cursing as her clenching pussy milked the last of his climax from him.

On shaking limbs, Emily settled on the bottom step, sweeping her sweaty locks away from her face. She let out a breathy little laugh, looking up at him with a smile. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words got caught in her throat. "What are you doing?" she asked instead.

He was in the process of pulling his jeans on. "Getting dressed," he replied simply as if the answer should be evident.

"Obviously," she scoffed. Cocking her head to fix him with a glare that threatened anger, she clarified, "I meant why are you getting dressed instead of heading to bed with me?"

"You didn't really think I was going to spend the night, did you?" He seemed to think the very idea laughable.

Emily, however, did not. She raised a brow, confused. "What? Why wouldn't you?"

Her genuine surprise and confusion seemed to give him pause. "What exactly did you think this was, Em?" he asked. At her continued dumbfounded silence, he said plainly, "This was a hook up, Em. That's it."

"A hook up?" she repeated. "I thought you were here to make up..."

"I thought I made myself clear, Em – you cheated, we're over. I have no interest in being the third wheel to you and Derek." He practically spit Derek's name as if it were poison in his mouth. "You got what you wanted."

Her mouth hung open momentarily while she absorbed that information. "Then why are you here!? Am I just some... Some booty call?"

He shrugged, pulled on his jacket.

"So, you're just leaving now?" she asked, incredulous. "Your cum is still dripping out of me and you're not even going to say goodbye?"

"No point in a long drawn out goodbye," he said, flippant.

Anger visibly boiled in her this. "Fuck you, Clyde!" she snapped. "How fucking dare you! You used me – you knew I thought we were still together and you played on my affections so I'd let you fuck me like some cheap whore!"

He held up a hand to stop the verbal tirade. "You didn't have to jump my bones the moment you saw me," he retorted. "You could've stopped me."

"Get out!" she shouted. "Get the fuck out!" She waited until the door slammed shut behind him before she let the tears come.

She was still sitting there, quietly sobbing, when her phone chimed with a text. Wiping away the tears with the heel of her hand, she glanced at her phone to see Derek's name.

When she opened the text, it simply said, "Turn on the TV – channel 28..."

Figuring she had nothing to lose, she followed the instruction...finding the channel broadcasting Slaughterhouse Five. With a wet little laugh, she texted back, "When did you turn into such a nerd?"

"When I met you."