AN: I'm usually not one for overly graphic stuff, but writing David and Greenlee always makes me go kind of naughty. I actually have to take a step back and edit some of their stuff. Cravethesun, it's a deep honor to be reviewed by one of the finest D/G writers I've ever found. I have waited many moons for you to update, am waiting patiently, aren't I?

Selfless

Two – Haunted

Greenlee didn't want to think about how bad her skin must look now, how red and raw it must look by now. Standing beneath the beating water, the feeling of heat lost a long time ago, she leaned her head back, eyes closed. Her loofah, dangling from limp fingers, had scrubbed him off her, but… what about those other places?

She let the sponge drop, stepped forward to lean tiredly against the wall, letting the water pound her back, where, after their heat and hunger had finally finished, he'd bit and kissed up her spine before letting her relax completely against the bed… where all she'd smelled was him.

Greenlee leaned her head forward, shivering despite the heat, painfully clear moments whispering through her head… how warm his hand had been when it settled on her leg, a shocking heat that gave her an instant start of excitement; she'd become aware of that powerful pulse between her legs, the growing tightness in her stomach…

She hadn't felt anything like that in years… it had hit her so fast, a need, a desperation just to touch him… and she had; her hands had gone to his face and… it was like a landslide, a sudden rush that left her entire body shaking, her breath coming fast, and she'd loved how the dress felt being so roughly pushed up, catching and dragging at her skin, followed by his hands, hot and soft but also rough, hands that had brought hundreds back to life, created potions that made a mind or body heal despite the cracks.

And, when his hands had found the line of buttons that ran up her back, small green and pink buttons, she'd wondered, Can he fix me? Can he bring me back to life?

It was crazy and sick and so, so wrong and… she wanted him again, now, soon, as soon as possible…

By the time David got back to his cabin, he had nearly lost his mind; immediately, he let his jacket drop to the couch, heading straight to the bottle of whisky on the table. Kicking off his shoes, he eased down onto the couch, noting with pleasure the way her scent clung to the material…

It always surprised him how much he hated when a woman overdid the perfume, when she lost that unmistakable, undeniable woman scent—twice, it had happened that he hadn't been able to take all the extra shit and he'd ignored the woman's advances… which, if you knew David Hayward…

Now, taking another swig of the burning liquid, he thought back with pleasure to the moment when, while burying his face in her neck, he'd been delighted to pick up another, more delicate taste of something different… it was softer but there was an edge there. Even as her heartbeat had pounded against his hand, he'd found the scent strongest at the base of her neck, and remained there, inhaling that, absorbing the scent for remembrance for after she fled back to her little life of unhappy homemaker and uncaring husband.

He wanted to know what that smell was, what the hell it was… he could convince someone else to put it on maybe… brown-eyed, brown-haired, someone who walked like she did… someone who lay in his bed, wore his sheets like she did…

With a snort, David rubbed his aching head with his empty hand, pushing thoughts of smooth skin and strong muscles from his mind… Jesus Christ, had someone drugged his liquor? Grimacing, attempting not to remember the way the folds in her hands felt in the dark, he took yet another swallow of alcohol.

Why shouldn't he get drunk? He didn't work tonight anyway, right? Feeling that this undoubtedly the best course for right now, he sat back, where she had been sitting just a few nights before and got back to his best buddy the bottle, savoring the way it burned all the way down… just like she did….

She hadn't expected Ryan to be home when she finally left the shower, so she really didn't give a flying fuck when she found herself empty in the penthouse. Shivering in the warmth of the heated place, wearing the warmest robe she had, she combed out her hair.

Sitting on the couch, she pulled once, twice, separated the strands thoughtfully, once again, then again, separate the strands… He'd played with her hair, pulled a few strands, let it wrap around his fingertips thoughtfully, enjoying the way it slide out from between his fingers… she had to comb him off… again.

She was in an advanced state of… something… she didn't understand it but everything she saw seemed hazy, dulled out, drained of color and life… when somebody touched her she'd either jump a mile or not even realize that someone was touching her… she felt like her battery needed to be recharged… like something inside her had split and she was just draining…

She needed to catch herself… needed to put all her pieces back together and fix herself…

We can't fix ourselves, Greenie… but he did… remember it? Remember the way he fixed us… the way he put our pieces back together… too bad you had to go running away before he could finish the surgery, huh?

She was getting pretty fed up with the evil-fucking voice in her head. Pushing her hair back, letting the comb drop to the table, she stood, found herself heading into the bedroom… dully aware of the way her skin chilled when her movements parted the robe, she found herself reaching up into the closet, her fingers finding the lump of cloth…

Hands shaking softly, she unfolded the material, her fingers stretching out the dress… pink and green material, the buttons along the back closed… her fingertips brushed them, unhooked one, parted the material… then another… stopped… swallowing, aching, she stepped away from the bed just long enough to shut the door…

And locked it down good and tight…