I own nothing but my own words.
Chapter Two
"Two shots. Tequila. And a chaser… something fruity."
Ryan grabbed the glasses to pour each drink.
"Strawberries or peaches?"
"Oh, definitely peaches," the appreciation was clear in her voice.
Glancing at Hope, he followed her gaze and resisted the urge to flinch.
She was eyeing some girl at the other end of the bar.
The chick was checking her out too.
"Something fruity alright," he muttered under his breath, turning to make the drinks.
Spending the past day and a half in bed—well, chair, floor, table, counter… was there a surface in his new house he hadn't screwed Hope on—meant he was extremely sore, but well satisfied and craving more.
Having bills to pay meant actually showing up for his new job though. His boss wouldn't see his spending time with a tribrid sex bunny as a good enough reason not to fire him.
Put 'tribrid sex bunny' on the list of things he should never repeat around Hope.
Of course, once Hope found out what his job actually was she didn't mind the interruption and tagged along.
Translation? He was basically taking her 'out' to dinner, what with all the humans present at the bar.
He wasn't exactly happy about it but what could he do? She would have a few 'drinks' along with a few drinks, and he would tend bar serving her that second kind to her heart's content. Everything would go smoothly over the next few hours until closing and they could go back to his place and pick up where they left off.
When did anything ever go according to plan when Hope Mikaelson was involved?
She barely looked at him, too busy looking over all the tasty morsels and making eye contact with random women and men, eyeing them seductively, the way he wanted her to look at him.
"You know, my hearing has improved remarkably with the change," Hope said to him, her gaze still on the woman that caught her eye.
"Then you'll know I approve of fruity," he said, setting the shots and drink in front of her, staring hard, silently imploring her to look his way.
She tossed back one of the shots, set the empty on the counter, and picked up the tall drink with pinkish coloring—all while maintaining eye contact with the other person.
He waited while she took a sip.
Finally, she looked at him.
"This is strawberry."
"I prefer strawberry," he said pointedly, though his gaze met her forehead on purpose.
With that, he walked to the other end of the bar to take someone's order, feeling her eyes on him.
At least she was watching him now.
The jealousy hit out of nowhere when they arrived at the bar. He knew it was ridiculous and he should ignore it and move on, but he couldn't help it. Having her, being intimate with her, feeling her hands on him while she claimed him over and over all contributed to his new human emotions wanting all of her for himself only.
Too bad she didn't have human emotions of her own anymore.
As for strawberries, well, he didn't actually know what she tasted like since she barely let him put his hands on her let alone his mouth, but he always did prefer the taste of the luscious sweet berry to the fuzzy covered fruit.
"You know…"
He took cash from an outstretched hand and turned away while Hope continued to speak, having followed him.
"There could be cocktails all around."
Turning to give change, he barely looked at her as he attempted to decipher the meaning behind her words.
"She can join us later."
"No," he snapped as he walked past her again, flinching inside once more. He had gotten better at not making eye contact. He couldn't, not when he never knew what she would force him to do next. He definitely wasn't interested in having sex with anyone but her. Thus far, the only thing she compelled him to do was hold off until she got off, so he didn't think she would go that far, but he wasn't taking any chances.
"That's too bad," she snagged her second shot and tossed it back. "Have another one of those waiting when I get back."
He reached out to stop her when she went to leave, but dragged his hand back at the last minute, cursing himself, hoping she didn't notice.
She did.
"What?" she asked, picking up her strawberry concoction.
"Just... don't kill anyone," he muttered.
Other than his jealousy roaring, he was also very anxious about what damage she could cause. The veins he saw beneath her eyes a few times since she arrived in town worried him. She seemed to be doing remarkably well for a newly turned vampire, controlling herself like a pro, but the bloodlust could appeal to even the oldest of vampires.
"Are you telling me what to do?" her eyes narrowed slightly.
"No," he raced to think of an excuse. Pissing her off was the last thing he wanted. "I've got to clean and close tonight. The bigger mess you make, the longer I'll be."
"Then maybe I'll find someone else to go home with," she said haughtily.
Ignoring the flare in his chest, he controlled himself enough to respond. No use in putting his feelings on display for her either. She would only tease him with that too. It was how she might tease him that made him want to hide it even more. Sexual torture was one thing, but if she decided to torture him by playing with the feelings he hadn't yet learned to control, he wasn't sure he could handle it.
"In which case, definitely don't make a mess," he shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing a couple beers from the case for another patron. "I'll have to line myself up someone else and wouldn't want to keep them waiting."
"We'll see."
The amusement in her voice spoke volumes about how well he was doing. Who was he kidding? She probably saw right through him.
Busying himself serving drinks, wiping down counters, cashing out tabs, he tried his best to avoid watching her. He didn't want to see what she was doing, but his eyes kept seeking her out as if they were drawn to her like magnets.
His entire body tensed when he caught a glimpse of her heading to the back with the 'peaches' girl. Girls went to the bathroom together all the time, right? That was all there was to it. Sure, Hope was probably biting her neck, but she would cover it up and make her forget then send her on her way.
Right?
As time passed, he wound up tighter than a bow, his mind racing trying to figure out how he would dispose of a body that night if it came to it. Surely she would help?
Finally Peaches came out of the back, very much alive. She had a stupid dazed love-struck look on her face and her hair was now hanging down around her shoulders. It wasn't his first rodeo; the hair was covering a bite mark.
Part of him relaxed, though the jealous part reared to the surface with full force.
Why were they back there that long? It didn't take that long to sip a couple pints.
And why hadn't Hope come back yet?
Time dragged on again.
Cursing, he readied himself to take a quick break to check on the situation, but then he saw her.
He fumbled a glass when she came back out in the company of some guy who was practically drooling over her every word.
Just food, he reminded himself. Everyone else was only food to her. Blood. Her own personal Taco Bell cravings box.
She passed by carrying her nearly empty fruity drink glass and glanced at the counter.
"Here," he said, plopping another shot in front of her, remembering she wanted another one when she came back.
Draining the rest of the other glass, she sat it on the counter and picked up the shot.
"Mmm, you were right," she said, eyeing him. "Strawberry is better."
Swallowing thickly at the possible implications of her words, he watched her take the shot.
Winking, she dropped the shot glass on the counter and returned to the side of the other guy.
Swearing, he turned away. He couldn't let her know she was getting to him.
Did she really mess around with that girl? Or was she doing exactly what he thought she would if she knew how he felt? Was she just saying those things to mess with his emotions? He wished he could put a spell on her to get the real truth.
He was in too deep and he knew it. He kept reminding himself she was only a friend—one with some excellent benefits. She probably didn't see him as a friend anymore given her current lack of emotions, but… she was his friend all the same.
Now he just sounded pathetic.
As time passed, he calmed down and began noticing what he missed before.
She may talk to other people, take the occasional sip from them in a darkened corner, but she never really allowed anyone to touch her unless they were dancing. Even then, she made sure to lead, and if anyone tried to touch her more than she wanted, she had no qualms about gripping their hand to the point of crushing it while compelling them not to scream at the pain.
Yeah, he noticed all that while he was working. Clearly his mind was not on the job at hand. Fortunately, along with compelling his boss to forget that Ryan happened to be a little late that night, Hope also compelled Zeke to leave Ryan alone even if he spent most of the night talking to her instead of working.
The others were just a means to an end. He was different. He had to be. He recalled how she let him touch her. Not in all the ways he wanted to, of course, but in ways that would've gotten someone else a crushed hand.
It wasn't much, but it was enough to curb his jealousy. It almost convinced him she hadn't done anything besides drink from that girl.
Almost.
Time went on and pretty soon it was time to close up for the night.
It seemed he made it through the night without her killing anyone; plus, she was nice enough to compel his boss to finish cleaning. She made the man think Ryan was the one doing it.
He needed to keep his hands busy though so he grabbed a rag and towel and started on the tables.
Now that they were basically alone, he wasn't sure what would come next. He wanted her, but he couldn't just sit back and accept whatever fate dealt him, could he? He couldn't let her continue to walk all over him… but maybe that would be a conversation for tomorrow? It would be so much easier if he knew she felt something for him too. But she didn't.
She didn't feel anything.
"You can stop now, you know," she said, laughter in her voice as she watched him wipe down another table.
"I know," he said, wiping it anyway.
"Still find it hilarious you're tending bar. Though, I suppose it's better than telemarketing or selling life insurance."
"The tips are nice too."
"Hmm, I knew I was forgetting something," she said.
"You mean to tip?" he said, scoffing. "To do that, you'd have to actually pay your tab."
"How remiss of me," she smirked. "But, I do have a tip for you… of the non-monetary variety."
"What's that, Hope?" he said, walking to the next table.
"You do know I don't deal in emotions anymore, right?" she asked, sauntering closer to him.
"Right."
"Then here's a tip for you," she placed her hands on the edge of the table and leaned toward him. "Don't go and catch feelings. It won't end well for you."
"Believe me, I know," he scrubbed at the table even harder. "You're still technically my friend though. My only friend, as it were."
"That's almost adorable," she mused.
He shrugged despite the dread bombarding him. She knew. She knew how he felt.
Damn it.
"Dance with me," she commanded.
He glanced at her, meeting her eyes for the first time all night. He missed looking into her eyes.
"Or don't," she shrugged. "I've seen you watching me. I know you want to."
He tossed the cloths on the table and walked around to her. He reached out, curious to see her response.
Placing her hand in his outstretched one, she actually smiled at him.
Breathless now, he led her to the small dance area and pulled her close.
She let him lead, and she encouraged him in ways she hadn't her previous dance partners. She took his hands at her waist and slid them down to her hips. When the fingertips of his large hands stretched past her hips, she didn't seem to mind at all. She slid her arms around his waist, and pressed against him.
Swaying to the music, he could almost believe they were two normal humans enjoying a normal evening together. That she enjoyed their closeness as much as he did. She must be enjoying something about their time together though, otherwise why did she stay?
His brows knit together.
Maybe she did feel something? She definitely enjoyed using his body. Some of the things she said in the throes of orgasm proved that. Pleasure was an emotion, right? So maybe he was looking at it the wrong way. She felt something when she was with him. Not the emotions he wanted her to feel but something.
She definitely wasn't staying for the blood, since that's the one thing she hadn't tried to take from him.
"Tell me again why you're here," he murmured.
"You work here."
"No. Why did you showed up at my place?"
"Making sure all ties to my arch-nemesis are gone for good," she glanced up at him and rolled her eyes.
Clearly, the thought of Malivore being her arch-nemesis amused her now that she was the tribrid.
"Why haven't you drank from me?"
She pulled back, that amused smirk firmly in place.
He shivered when she trailed her fingertips up his chest and traced along his neck.
"Once I get a taste… I might not stop," her heavy laden eyes drifted from his neck to his eyes. "You're useful in other ways… for now."
"I noticed you seem well versed in the whole grab-drink-erase concept."
She laughed.
Something about her laughter sent a chill running down his spine but he didn't know why.
"What do you really want to know, Ryan?"
"Not that I'm complaining, just wondering why you're still here."
"I want you."
His body jerked in shock.
"At least for now," she shrugged and turned around in his arms, pressing back against him.
"So… there's no way of knowing how long you'll stay," his mind raced.
She wanted him. She wanted him.
She was staying because she wanted him.
They would have more time together. More time with her meant a number of things… he might even have a sliver of a chance at making her feel more. Though the chances of that were probably miniscule, he had told himself he wouldn't just accept what she offered. Maybe time was all he really needed.
"Until I'm bored, or forced to go."
She rested her head back against him and grinded closer.
"Suppose you can't stay in one place too long…" he bit his lip, the feel of her pressed against him already incited him. Her movements only increased his fervor.
"Right."
"Wouldn't want your friends to know what you're up to," he said thoughtfully, thinking of them for the first time since she showed up on his doorstep. "Surprised they haven't come knocking on my door yet."
"For that, they'd have to think you matter to me."
"And I don't."
"Right."
Pang.
"Nothing matters to you."
"Just freedom, and maybe blood," she grasped his arms and wrapped them more firmly around her. "Not expecting them at all, really. For now, they're probably too busy deciphering a message I left."
"What kind of message?"
"The kind that warns them not to follow unless they want a similar fate."
So many questions with barely any answers—so many things he wanted to know.
But, she said freedom mattered to her. That much he could understand. It was like so many times before, when he understood how she felt and she understood him.
She wanted to be free from her emotions, just like he wanted to be free from his father. He could see how hers were just like the prison he had been trapped in. He wanted it for her, that freedom… he just wanted her to care about him too, at least a little.
"You didn't kill anyone back home, did you?"
"Honestly? I'm not sure."
He barely had time to register her words before she turned around with that come hither look of hers that let him know she was more than ready for what came next.
"Ready to go?" he murmured, thinking he left his keys behind the counter.
"Oh, I'm ready," she said, strolling toward him, her hands on his chest. "But we're not going anywhere just yet."
Her flashing that seductive look his way like he craved all night had his heart racing in anticipation. As her body pressed against his, swaying to the music, he needed her closer, and he needed her now.
Dancing backwards, the backs of his legs hit a random wooden chair that hadn't been pushed in so he sank into it, tugging her down with him.
Gripping his shoulders, she swung her legs on either side of his thighs, straddling his lap. Her short skirt bunched up around her thighs. With a saucy grin, she pulled his shirt out of the waist band of his pants.
"Your work outfit? Not your best look."
"Jeans and a t-shirt?"
He didn't care much for the look either but didn't see a problem with it.
"I prefer nothing."
Her hands slid to the buckle of his belt and he sucked in a breath, suddenly remembering where they were.
"My boss is right over there."
"He's not paying attention…" she looked at the bar thoughtfully. "Unless you want him to?"
"No! No, I'm good," he coughed, glancing over. Sure enough, the man was too busy cleaning every nook and cranny of the bar to even bother peeking their way. She probably compelled him to ignore them too.
Or, maybe she didn't.
Were humanity free vampires really that different from their human counterparts? Or, was that something she would've considered with her humanity turned on then decide it was too far outside the realm of proper behavior?
Hope Mikaelson considering a threesome or having sex in front of an audience seemed way too farfetched to him, and yet she made both of those proposals tonight.
"Let's just go," he said, trying to be as nonchalant about it as possible. Making a suggestion was not telling her what to do.
"Or, maybe I can find the closest available surface to pin you against."
Her voice never changed but the threat was evident.
"My bed back home is pretty comfortable, not that you would know since we never got that far," he said smoothly
"Hmm…" she looked around. "Which surface would you prefer?"
"None of the above?" he said. "This is a bar and I'm human now. No matter how clean it gets, the risk of hepatitis or worse is not worth it. Plus, I'm still sore."
"Aw, poor thing," she taunted. "So…what you're really saying is, you want me to do all the work. As usual."
She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and settled in more firmly on his thighs.
The full force of Hope all over him distracted him from their circumstances… for all of one moment before apprehension struck again.
He glanced at his boss, wanting to make extra sure the man wasn't watching.
She laughed. "Really, Ryan? Forget about him. I didn't take you for such a prude."
"A prude? Really?" he yanked her hips forward, lifting his gaze in triumph when he succeeded in pressing her center against the growing hardness beneath his jeans.
She moaned.
"Maybe less prude…" she murmured, undulating her hips slowly and sensually. "More… inexperienced, maybe?"
"Like you have that much more than me?" he sputtered, his indignation hampered by the growing desire. His hands slid around to her ass. The material of the bunched skirt got in his way, so he pulled it up further.
Surprise registered when he touched bare skin.
Had she spent the entire evening walking around without underwear?
"Have you actually slept with anyone else since you were resurrected?" she wondered aloud, rocking against him.
No. No, he hadn't.
"Resurrection? I already have the Adam comparisons," he said, swelling further in his pants. He considered letting go of her to finish removing his belt, but she was letting him touch her. He still didn't want to have sex at the bar… but maybe if he maneuvered everything just right, he could give her what she wanted without his bare human ass touching the chair. "Let's not start with the Jesus ones."
"Does that make my screaming redundant?" she asked as her fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. "'Oh my God, Ryan', am I really just saying your name twice? 'Oh my Ryan, Ryan!'"
She actually giggled.
"Quit it," he laughed despite everything. He was going delirious, incapable of making a decision with her in his arms, but he could still banter with her.
"Quit screaming your name? You know I don't," she remarked, hips still moving against him, an all new seductive dance. "I have way too much control for that."
"You? Control?" he smirked for the first time that night. "Say that to the floor beneath my recliner."
"I'm the tribrid," she said, gripping his hair more firmly and pulling harshly. "I don't lose control, not anymore."
Gripping her hips more harshly in response to her rough play, he gritted his teeth at the pain and yanked her closer, rolling his hips against hers.
"Too bad the bar doesn't have a mechanical bull," he snickered. "I could prove you wrong very quickly."
Suddenly he had a glimmer of what he wanted to do. He never had much control with her, but if he wanted any—if he wanted to do exactly what he wanted to her—then maybe he needed to change things up a bit.
"Care to make a wager on that?" he asked suddenly, releasing the grip on her hips and moving his hands in slow circles.
She shrugged. "Easy money."
"Not money," he said, sliding his palms up her back to give his libido a break. "If I can make you lose control, I'll ask for something and, no matter what it is, you have to give it to me."
"And if you lose?"
She seemed interested at least.
"What do you want?" he asked, wondering how bad her request would be.
"I want you to stop avoiding my gaze," she said even as her eyes found their way to his.
Forcing himself to maintain eye contact for the moment, he continued, "I'll do that anyway once the vervain arrives."
"But then my favorite compulsion won't work either."
Was it his imagination, or was she pouting?
"I can handle it without," he insisted. His stamina was growing by leaps and bounds because of her.
"I won't use the compulsion on you for anything else."
"You want me to trust you?" he asked incredulously.
"Thought you already did," she said. "I did keep my promise after all."
"That was before."
"I'm a vampire and my humanity is turned off. My ability to make and keep a promise isn't impeded."
"Your ability to care about keeping a promise is impeded."
"Those are my terms."
The very idea scared the crap out of him. Give her the power to make him do anything she wanted? But that was only if she won…
He could definitely make her lose control.
He was going to win.
"Deal," he said. "Just need a way to prove you lost it."
"Oh, I already got this," she smirked.
Removing her arms from his neck, she raised a hand and all the darts moved from the board on the wall and began circling in the air above them.
"Wh-what—" he stuttered.
"I'll keep them floating," she said, dropping her hand and reaching for his belt again.
"And if you lose control…" he caught his breath in anticipation as she made quick work of the buckle and his button and zipper.
"Well, they won't be floating anymore," she murmured, biting her bottom lip as she reached into his pants and worked to free the raging erection waiting for her.
"Just don't aim them at me," he breathed out, his worry dissolving as her hand wrapped around him.
"I promised I wouldn't hurt you much, didn't I?" she said, her desire filled eyes glued to her prize.
"Yeah…"
If she meant what she said about keeping her promise then maybe he could do something different…
He reached and grasped the side of her face, sliding his thumb across her skin and coming to rest on her bottom lip.
Her eyes jerked up to meet his.
"Let me touch you," he whispered, stroking his thumb gently across her lip, eyes meeting hers deliberately.
Her silence, aside from her smooth palm stroking his cock, seemed like an agreement. Without her denial, he decided to go further. Touching her was only part of what he really wanted, but it was enough for the moment.
Moving gentle fingers over the gorgeous features of her face to start, he felt an incredible edge of tension tighten within him. He was well aware she could change her mind at any moment, but he could also tell by the way her stroking switched from rough to gentle that she had to be feeling something.
That was the ultimate goal after all.
Hope feeling something.
Leaning toward her, his mouth was a hairbreadth from hers. She didn't pull away, almost as if she was daring him to go there when she never said he could.
For several long agonizing moments he hovered near her, his breath mixing with hers, but he didn't kiss her. He longed for their first kiss, but this wouldn't be it.
Instead, he slid his hands around to pull at her shirt, lifting it. She didn't resist, letting go of his manhood long enough for him to pull the shirt off over her head.
Lack of panties aside, she still wore a sexy black lacy bra that put her breasts on a mouthwatering display. Resisting the urge, once again, to put his mouth on her, he found the straps at her shoulders and slid his fingers beneath them, only touching the skin there.
"Your snail pace is getting us nowhere," she said, her hands gripped the bottom of his shirt and bunched it in her fists. "Though your bid for control is cute. Did you really think this would help you win?"
"No," he shook his head and slid his fingers further down the straps, reaching the lacy top and continuing to slide his fingers across the material. "I'm getting there."
"Let me move this along."
Glancing at him pointedly, she reached behind and undid the hooks.
Damn.
The bra was gone, tossed to the side, and his breathing hitched.
Who was supposed to be in control here?
At the house, Hope only cared about one thing—having sex as long and as often as possible, meaning she only wanted intercourse. She didn't take the time to strip or be seductive or play any games. She took what she wanted, and what she wanted was his cock hammering inside of her.
He hadn't expected his first time seeing Hope's breasts would be in a bar… though before yesterday, he never expected to actually see Hope naked at all.
"Well?" she said expectantly.
She wanted to dive right in? Well, he could do that too.
Plans to taunt and tease her tossed aside; he cupped each breast in his hands, feeling the full weight of them, and pressed his thumbs against both nipples. The touch of her warm skin flooded him with heat, his abandoned cock filling even more as it stood proudly between their bodies. He dragged his thumbs back and forth and around the rose colored nubs.
Had anyone ever touched her like this before? The way her mouth opened and her head dropped back made him wonder. At least she was enjoying it. A lot.
"How's that control working for you?" he couldn't resist saying.
Eyes flashing as her head straightened, she grabbed at his hands on her chest and pressed them more firmly to her. Leaning close until her mouth was nearly against his, she said, "The darts are still there."
Glancing up, he could see them circling in perfect formation.
"So they are."
"This," she said, clutching at his hands and leaning back, "isn't enough. A kiss definitely wouldn't be either."
"Oh, I was never going to kiss you," he murmured, eyes drifting to her chest again. He couldn't see it now, but he was feeling it. He wanted her to let go so he could touch her on his own terms.
"Why not?" she said, finally letting go and reaching to wrap her arms around his neck again, her belly pressed against his painful erection as her mouth came close to his once more.
"Because I don't know where that mouth has been," he said, flashing back to his earlier jealousy. Her mouth had been on at least five different people's neck that night—he saw every single one. He hated that part enough. What he hated most of all was whatever she did when she disappeared in the back.
"Jealousy seems much like catching feelings," she said, the mischievous look on her face doing nothing to reassure him.
"You want me?" He needed to say this at least. "You get me, not anyone else. You get bored? Fine, leave. But as long as you're with me, you're with me."
"Are you telling me what to do?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"About this? Yes. Yes, I am," he said, returning her raised eyebrow. "Those are my terms."
"Know what I think?" she mused.
The last time she asked that was right before she threw him on a table and gave him the best blow job of his life… Even with that memory, he replied cautiously.
"What's that, Hope?"
With a magical wave of her palm, he flinched when a pool cue flew across the room and she grabbed it out of the air.
Pulling it horizontally between them, she brought it up under his chin and forced his head back, the wood holding him in place.
His hands automatically let go of her and reached for the stick. He tried to pull it away, feeling trapped. It didn't move at all, she was much stronger than him.
"I can't breathe," he struggled to say.
"Of course you can," she laughed. "But I think it'll be better if you shut up and just feel."
She pulled herself up by stepping on the brace rungs of the chair. Using the stick for balance, she shifted her pelvis forward until his tip brushed her entrance.
"There," she moaned out and sank down on him. "Much better."
Fear of choking or a crushed windpipe wouldn't let him release the cue.
Panic warred with pleasure as she moved over him, those feelings doubled when her mouth settled at the base of his neck.
"The fear makes your blood sing," she murmured against his skin.
In other words, the fear was increasing his blood pressure. His heart was pounding like it was about to burst out of his chest.
He struggled to calm down. She promised not to hurt him… much. He just needed to convince himself to let go of the cue. He wasn't going to stop it from doing serious damage if she really wanted to anyway, and if he didn't let go he was never going to get her to lose control and get what he wanted.
But if losing control meant the cue slipped, maybe he should keep his hands right where they were…
"You feel so good," she mouthed against his skin, her inner walls clenching around him as she worked to pull herself up and down. "Touch me."
"Move the stick," he forced the words out.
Thankfully, she did what he said for once.
The instant the cue stick flew across the room, he brought his head back up and his hands immediately went to grip her ass.
She burrowed her face in his neck, licking and sucking at his skin—no biting—and he groaned as he used his new grip to help her ride his cock easier.
By some miracle, or maybe because he spent so much time in fear, he didn't need to be compelled to hold off until she came.
She must've forgotten to set the compulsion in motion. Either way, he was single-mindedly focused on moving with her by cupping her perfect ass in his hands. Now that he was at the most pleasurable part, he never wanted it to end.
At some point, one of his hands slipped further back and his fingertips brushed against the crease of her ass. Feeling inspired, he adjusted his grip so he could caress along the sensitive skin back there more easily.
Her gasp against his neck was enough encouragement to make him repeat the movement again and again.
The pressure was building inside of her, he could tell from the way she mouthed sloppily at his neck and the way he was doing most of the work now.
An unexpected sound distracted him enough to look at the floor.
A dart was sticking out of the wooden plank, the pointy end firmly planted.
The ghost of a grin slid across his face.
Then she officially erupted, screaming out when she came.
"Ryan!"
The only thing more beautiful than hearing her scream his name was the tell-tale sound of darts landing everywhere.
The satisfaction of knowing he made her lose control set him over the edge and he slammed her down hard on his cock one last time, clenching her in place as he exploded with his own loud roar.
"Hope!"
He pulled her into his arms, holding her close, breathing into the mess of hair tumbling over her shoulder. He was the one who always needed to recover when they finished, not her, which was why he was surprised when she collapsed against him and wrapped her arms lazily around his neck once more.
She giggled.
"You won," she said.
"Do I want to know where the darts landed?" he muttered.
"Zeke will get them," she shrugged. "Well, all except two… or maybe three?"
"Who will get those?"
"I was hoping you," she laughed, sitting up on his lap which sparked some interest in the softened cock that was resting just inside of her still.
"Where are they?" His relaxed smile took in the way her face lit up with her laughter. For all that he worried about her emotions being off, seeing her smile as if she didn't have a care in the world except how much she enjoyed being with him, it made him happy.
"In my back," she laughed again, attempting to look over her shoulder.
"You're kidding," he said, leaning to the side to try to look behind her too. "Up. Let me see."
"Relax," she said even though she did get up and turned around to offer him her back, sitting on his lap again. "As soon as you pull them out, they'll close right up."
There were three.
"Next time," he said, gripping one of the darts and pulling it out. "Nothing sharp."
Sure enough, the wound closed immediately, leaving only a small trace of blood behind.
"Where's the fun in that?" she said, taking the first dart from his hand.
"Being a badass doesn't have to involve pain," he grumbled, removing the second. "I know you're all about being bad right now, but you're not really as bad as you think."
"Bad?" she said with a laugh. "This isn't about being bad. This is about freedom, and choosing my own fate, doing whatever I want with whoever I want, be whoever I want."
"I like who you are," he removed the third.
"Who I am, or who I was?" she asked, leaning back against his chest and plucking the other two darts out of his hand. "And what is it with you and chairs?"
"The recliner was your choice," he said. "And I wanted a bed, remember?"
He ignored her first question because he wasn't sure how to answer.
Who she was before never wanted him, who she was now did… but she didn't feel anything for him, so…
"Speaking of what you want," she said, taking one of the darts and aiming it at a sign on the wall across the room. "You won, so claim your prize."
"My mouth," he said immediately. "On you. Anywhere I want, whenever I want. Without getting a crushed hand."
She threw the dart, hitting the paper, and tilted her head up to look at him.
"I thought you didn't want to kiss me."
"Your mouth," he said. "At least not tonight."
"Your jealousy is so cute," she giggled. "You really think I would let anyone else do to me what I let you do to me?"
"If you're trying to be bad, yeah, I think you would," he said, not believing for a second he was being paranoid about her trip to the back earlier. Something went down, and he really didn't want to know if that something was her.
"Fine," she shrugged. "Your mouth, wherever. Whenever."
In that case…
He moved her hair out of the way and nuzzled his face into her neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her.
She dropped the remaining darts on the floor and tilted her head further to the side, giving him enough space for his mouth to find her neck. Placing soft gentle kisses across her skin, he moved lazily, gently. The simple act of being able to kiss her was a marvel.
He was even more excited about getting her home now.
"Excuse me," an unexpected voice came from over his shoulder. "How do I clean this?"
Flinching, Ryan immediately tried to cover Hope's chest from view even though she was facing away.
"Zeke," Ryan coughed, looking around for her shirt and even considering taking his own off to put on her. "Come back in five minutes, tops, k?'
Hope rolled her eyes and pushed his hands away.
"My shirt is right on that table. Stop."
She twisted on his lap to look at Zeke. Ryan shifted to the side to cover her body from view as best he could.
"Oh," she said, spying Zeke. "I see how that could be a problem."
Ryan glanced at Zeke then back at Hope. Then he registered what he saw and looked back again, his mouth dropping open.
Zeke had dragged the body of a limp female with two tiny holes in her neck from the back, his arms braced under her armpits. He was holding her up partially as he waited for instructions from Hope.
It wasn't any woman Ryan had seen Hope with before.
"What the hell!?" Ryan exclaimed.
"You were saying?" Hope's voice was thoroughly amused as she stretched across his lap to grab the shirt off the table.
"Is she dead?!" he looked back and forth between Zeke, the woman, and Hope.
"Hmm, shhh," she said, cocking her head to the side as she listened. "No breathing. Not heart beat. Apparently she is. I left her to sleep it off. Guess I took too much."
"You what?!"
"Killed by 'hope'," she mused. "Kinda ironic. Should thank my uncle for that eternal pun."
"Hope!"
"Zeke, be a doll and get a broom," she said, pulling her shirt on over her head sans bra. "And a really big trash bag. Preferably black."
Zeke dropped the body on the floor and went to do as she said.
"What are you going to do?!" Ryan remembered his own partial state of undress and quickly stuffed himself back into his pants and worked on his zipper and belt.
"Get rid of it?" she said, rising and smoothing her skirt down around her hips and thighs.
"It's a person!"
"Not anymore?" she shrugged. "Don't worry, RyRy. You told me you didn't want to clean it up. Zeke's going to do it for you."
"That wasn't what I meant!" he stood and turned, staring at the body, horrified.
"Hey, at least you know now," she said.
"Now I know what?!" he ran his fingers through his hair.
What the hell was Zeke even going to do with a broom and a trash bag?
"What I was really up to back there," she said, reaching to trace her thumb across his bottom lip just like he had done to her earlier. "Told you there was no need to be jealous."
He looked at her, reeling, still in shock.
"Incendia."
The body on the floor ignited in flames.
Ryan stepped back, dread clawing at him.
She did it.
She really killed someone.
And she didn't care.
"Bad enough for you?" she smirked.
Again, no idea if this will be continued… hope you liked this though ;)
Random Notes: Chapter 1 was posted before 4x05, Chapter 2 was posted after 4x06.