Chapter 1: Lost in Translation
A/N: So I binged all the John Wick films in one day and suddenly came to the conclusion that I'm love with Keanu Reeves (and the John Wick character). So that's how this fic ultimately happened. This is going to be another black reader insert fic because why not? Still don't have any idea if I'm good at writing one but I'll take the leap anyway. This might end up being a one-shot fanfic or it might not. I probably won't update again until after Christmas. Sad, I know but I've got to finish my finals strong. The good news is that I'll be working on a new fic soon and updating another. Until then, happy holidays! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own John Wick or the franchise on which it was built nor did I make any profit from the creation of this story.
The New York Public Library on 53rd Third Street was always deadly silent when you walked in the huge place. The consistent sounds of your boots on the polished floor ever present over all else and honestly - it bothered you. If there was one thing you hated, it was making noise in a completely quiet space. The action always sent a spike of anxiety up your spine in response since it drew unwanted attention to you. Something you obviously were not fond of. One could in fact hear a pen drop at the front entrance from the very back of the library if they paid the barest amount of attention. And you were inclined to believe that your assumption was not just an exaggeration.
Per usual, there were people seated at long tables reading or thoughtfully looking over documents. If someone wanted peace and quiet while they undertook their normal proclivities in the bright, inviting sanctuary book archive then this was the perfect place. It was definitely one of your favorite places to go. Being a junior in college, you find yourself here in the place quite often. It's in this very institution that you study for courses or simply have an existential breakdown about college as a whole. Basically conduct the normal life of a university student.
You walk to the front desk were a middle aged woman sat reading a thick book with her glasses perched low on her nose - the sight of which made her look much older than she actually was. Having been through this song and dance more time than you could count, you waited patiently for her to acknowledge you. Pulling her eyes from the book, the woman set it down and addressed you in a low, phlegmatic tone.
"What are you looking for?"
"Not That Bad by Roxane Gay please."
The woman nodded once, turning to type the keys of her computer.
The book was just something to hold you over until your copy of 'Angry Black Girl' by Elexus Jionde arrived from the mail. You were a huge fan of hers and copping her book was the ultimate appreciation. It seemed like it'd taken you forever to finally order the book off Amazon. You were the type to garner stacks of unread books at home and still fawn over the library and bookstores. It was a testament to how lazy you are when it comes to prioritizing.
Another woman approached the two of you with said book in hand, giving it to the seated desk attendant who looked it over and then handed it to you.
"Here you are. Due date is two weeks from now if you don't renew it. Enjoy."
"Thank you." You smiled, walking away from the corner with the book in hand, intent to give home before it got too dark and start preparing dinner. Your friends had already invited themselves over the moment they found out you planned to cook. There was nothing in the world that could stop them from eating up everything you cooked.
The sounds of the bustling city, particularly in Times Square were nearly unending. Living in the Big Apple was quite the one in a lifetime experience, seeing as your family was originally from the southern portion of the United States. The illumination, HIDs, and LEDs never failed to fascinate you with the various advertisements and promos. There were an unlimited amount of clubs, bars, theaters, shops, and clubs for people to partakes in. And yet, there it was again - that ominous feeling of being watched every time you stepped out of your apartment. Technically you had no real reason to feel so uneasy - or so you thought.
Working in a bar on the late shift came with its own set of hazards. Firstly, you were a female bartender working the night shift. What possessed go into this line of work, you would never know. You just knew the pay check was just above average and you needed to pay your bills and tuition. Though it wasn't really worth the harassment and disrespect you received while you performed your job, you tried not to let it bother you as much. After the first few instances, you'd started dressing in unattractive, conservative clothing just to deter men from hounding you. You didn't think people genuinely understood just how terrifying it is to be a woman in this day and age.
After pleas to your employer Rob to simply allow you to clean glasses in the back had gone unacknowledged you did your best to cope with the inconveniences that had started to happen more frequently. Rob being the absolute scumbag that he had insisted that you being out on the floor caught the drunken customers and brought in more tips - the drunken customers in this case being gang members. He essentially told you to put up with the maltreatment unless you wanted to find another job. Something you weren't capable of doing at this particular point in time. People like him were the absolute worst kind of humans.
Speaking of terrible humans, the bar just so happened to be filled with them tonight. Majority of the customers were crude burly Russian men, if their accents gave anything anything away. The bar was used to hosting all sorts of people, so this was not uncommon in any sense of the word. What you didn't like was that this particular group of people had not problem treating you like you were an object to cater to their needs rather than a living, breathing person. And so you were not accustomed to dealing with their rude, commanding demands and had no plans to adapt to them anytime soon. So instead of giving into your baser instincts you commenced to working quietly and silently amongst the scuffle of cackles and loud discussions.
"Bring another round over here doll!" One man shouts to you as you stand behind the corner.
Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you fill three more glasses with whiskey and place them on a round serving platter. This was their tables fifth round within the hour. You listened to their conversation as you quietly sat their glasses on the table.
"See I told you. The American whiskey is cheap and lacking in quality. I'd rather have Roguska over this shit." The man grumbled to his companions, one of which had a scantily dressed woman sitting on his lap. The other man seemed content to simply smoke a cigarette and observe. Your face burned and you nearly stumbled when the guy who called you over, leaned over in an intrusive attempt to put his face near your crotch.
"Hey there, malen'kiy tsvetok. Would you like to entertain me and company tonight." He purred to you, his snake-like eyes running over the length of your body.
You pretended not to hear his words, trying to fight the crawling of your skin at the tone of his suggestive voice. You didn't have time for this sort of thing tonight. You were tired as hell and eager to get home within the next hour. Only placing the last drink on the table and turning to walk away. A strong hand grasped your wrist, pulling you back.
Dismissive to your uncommunicative behavior, the man continued to press on with his demand disguised as a proposal. "Oh no. Don't go just yet, stay here for a while longer."
For all the drunk, perverted customers you'd ever dealt with, no one had ever taken things this far. His slmily hands on you made things all the worse.
Lips turning down into a frown, you tried to pry your wrist loose. "Let go. I need to get back to work."
"Better be careful Anatoly. I hear the temyaya kozha are the hardest to break." The man with the cigarette declared, a well-placed shit eating grin on his face. "Though I hear the surrender is beyond rewarding."
"Can't be any harder than taming a horse." The man responded, his opposite hand reaching to roughly grab a handful of your backside.
Your closed hand found the man's cheek half a second later, the sound echoing loudly through the bar and catching many other patron's attention. The full glass of alcohol was then thrown in the man's face for good measure if the slap didn't do enough of its job. It certainly was enough for him to release you. The rise of anger was long awaited as you stared down the man with no shortcomings of loathing. The constant sexual harassment, disrecpect and ultimately being compared to an animal was enough to send deep spiral of vehemence course through your veins.
While the other two men at the table and a few other customers chuckled lowly, the drenched man found nothing amusing about his predicament. Standing from his seat, a gun was subsequently pulled from the man's waistband and aimed at squarely at your chest. You could see inside the dark barrel of the weapon and it looked way bigger now that he was pointing it at you.
"You shouldn't done that doll." He growled through clenched teeth, eyes burning with an anger that almost made you wish you hadn't slapped or throwing a drink in his face. Now he was gearing up to shoot you in front of the whole bar. You refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cower in fear...not when they were completely in the wrong. If this was how you'd die then so be it.
Beyond any other interactions, all eyes had turned away from the commotion towards the door, where as a man calmly walked through it.
The bar had gone completely silent in a matter of seconds. The tension in the air was stifling. Your spine instinctively straightened as you sensed the murderous tenseness in the room skyrocket.
From the moment you lay eyes on him, you knew he meant business. The black James Bond suit amplified the assumption times ten. His profile consisted of sleek black hair that rested just above his broad shoulders. With sharp, focused brown eyes. Perfectly trimmed facial hair, features ruggedly handsome, the pure essence of stoic.
You almost faltered as he did a quick perusal over you before turning his attention back towards the previously rowdy patrons who were without a doubt disturbed by his presence. The look on their faces emphasized various levels of heightened fear. For some reason, they were terrified of the newcomer of whom they were familiar with. Everything changed within the next breath, as your aggressor rotated the gun in the man's direction. This action proved to be a major mistake.
The sound of a gunshot barely registered in your mind before you even visibly perceived the man being blown back over a neighboring table.
You promptly threw yourself onto the floor as chaos ensued and multiple gunshots rang out over the space. You did your best to stay out of the way by swiftly crawling over behind the corner for refuge.
This was by no means your first time witnessing a shootout. Maybe you were desensitized to everything due to the violence that took place in New York on a daily basis. In some areas, crime ran unchecked and rampant with no hope of ceasing anytime soon. This was certainly not how you expected your night to play out. If there was a certain point in life where a person questioned how they ended up in a particular situation, now would be that time for you. By this point, you were thoroughly convinced that this was your record scratch freeze frame moment to ask 'Hey, you're probably wondering how I ended up here.' Like seriously, only you could have ended up in this kind of predicament.
Like an idiot you chanced a glance your the corner for a brief view of the anarchy. It was hard to focus over the sound of pistols firing at the same time. Never had you seen someone use a gun with such lethality. Shooting a nearby man in the head with frightening accuracy. He essentially took out every Russian gangster in the bar single handedly. Smashing a half empty beer glass onto one man's head then using an existing shard to impale a man in the eye, before shooting him in the head at point blank range. His favored method was simply quick headshots to ensure the targets were dead, leaving brains all over the chairs and tables. The sheer brutality of the acts left you feeling a bit lightheaded.
Thereafter, bloodied bodies littered the floor. The only person left standing was the emotionless suited man. You figured that this would be a good time to make your escape, crouching down once more you tried to make your way into around the opposite side of the corner in order to make a break for the door. You silently cursed as stepped on broken glass along the way, the pieces crunching beneath your shoes. You prayed to the God above that it wasn't enough to attract his attention - you'd already had another attempt made on your life. There wasn't room for another.
A pair of sleek black dress shoes and slacks entered your direct line of vision just as you reached the end of the nook. The man stood towering over you as you were posed on your hands and knees upon the floor. The state of bewilderment had you feeling much like a deer in headlights, your eyes widened comically while his eyes arrested yours. A quick glance downward confirmed that he still held a gun. Gaining your wits back you stood up from the floor and dusted your clothes free of any debris - scrambling to find something sensible to say to the man.
"Um...hi."
Smooth. Real smooth.
"Hello." He answered.
Honestly, you weren't expecting that. God, you hated that you were nearly shaking just being near him - not out of fear but from sheer coldness of his demeanor. The thought of what would take place now that you two were the only two living people in the room seriously scared you. What was to become of her? You'd seen plenty of crime shows and come to the conclusion that it wasn't exactly wise to leave a witness after committing such heinous acts against other human beings. Regardless if they deserved it or not. And in this case, they definitely did.
You mean, who just shoots over a dozen people without batting a single eye. What in the Call of Duty Black Ops?
The thought of dying so early in your young life was not at all comforting or appealing in any sense. But at this point, was there really anything you could do to prevent that from happening? Was it possible to convince the man not to shoot you dead on the spot? It was highly unlikely. Obviously if the man wanted you dead then he'd make damn sure to accomplish that. With everything you'd just witnessed - there was no doubt in your mind that he was fully capable of snubbing you out before you even got a chance to run.
And so you stood rooted to the spot - totally expecting to meet the same fate as the poor dead bastards littering the establishments floor in bloody heaps.
A burst of vocalised anger rang out behind you as well as a small clicking sound that suspiciously reminded you of a pistol. Whoever it was, they were preparing themselves to fire their weapon. That all changed in the blink of an eye when another gun discharged and warm liquid spattered the side of your face. You vaguely registered the rattle of a body hitting the floor, too spooked to move, eyes widened to a larger degree.
The man seemed to notice your shock and discomfort, eyes briefly shining with concern before it disappeared altogether like it was never there. Watching quietly as he retrieved a nearby wet towel reserved for wiping down the counter and began the process of cleaning the blood from your face. This night held a reputable record for surprises from being in the vicinity of a shootout to having your face cleaned of blood by a literal killer. The painstaking care he took to clean your face spoke volumes about his character. Maybe he was not just the ruthless murderer she'd judged him to be only moments after he appeared.
"Your shift is over. You can go now." He kindly suggested to her.
Immediately you were taken aback, you didn't expect the man to be so...cordial after he'd just killed slaughtered the rest of the bar. Frankly, he didn't fit the bill of a terrifying killer. Regardless of the fact, you were beyond thankful that he was generous enough to allow you to be able to walk away from the massacre unharmed.
That was the first time you became aware of one another. Though you had no idea that it certainly wouldn't be the last.
You'd already emailed your professor and told him you weren't feeling well and couldn't make it to class tomorrow so you could go get box braids. Your appointment was made well a month in advance with your braider Shannon. She was always willing to do your hair no matter what style you decided on. Midterms were fast approaching and you needed a convenient hairstyle without the hassle.
You entered the corner beauty supply store, ignoring the Asian man standing behind the corner who was known for following customers, who were for the most part black, around the store. In was well known in the black community how racial prejudice rampant in black hair stores that were usually operated by Asian men who treated customers like thieves-in-waiting. To be treated with such disrespect when the business basically relied on your money was ridiculous. Having to buy products from a store like this seriously pissed you off. You would happily take your business elsewhere if only the other beauty supply wasn't twenty miles away.
After short selection period, you purchased five packs of braiding hair and promptly left the shop. No amount of uninterested small talk with the man could undo the hostility that was clearly done shamelessly. There was no point in faking it you summarized as you walked and outside onto the sidewalk. It was after seven, despite that fact the city never stopped it's normal hussle and bussle. Regardless you still hated going out by yourself at nighttime.
Bag in hand, you rounding a narrow corner, entering a familiar alleyway about a block from your apartment complex. Unbeknownst to you, three suited suited men stood in waiting, blocked off the opposite end of the alley towards your apartment. Immediately, you stopped in your tracks.
"Hello there little girl, can we have a few moments of your time?" The man addressed you in a thick Russian accent, the faux friendly smile was just that. Faux.
A few minutes of your time? Even if you asked you knew their reasoning couldn't be good. But what did they want from you? There was an idea. You were the only living witness to a bloody massacre the other night that you still hadn't recovered from. You could bet that the deceased men from the bar were his subordinates. The men were obviously other lackeys with the men from the bar that night. Could they be here to kill you? The idea could be too over the top.
"May I ask why?" You queried, in a low voice.
"You don't exactly need to know why...just that we'd like to have a word with you."
Switching the hair of hair to your other hand, you wondered if you had time to retrieve the mace from your purse."Sorry but I need to get going."
Chuckling like the simple conversation was the most entertaining thing in the world, the man remarked. "Nonsense, this will only take a few minutes."
Without delay, you turned made a run towards the way you came, determined to get away from the dangerous men that seeked to do you harm. By mischance, alarming the sight of two other men suddenly blocking your getaway, made your heckles raise. This was not good. These people were preventing your only two escape.
Once you turned back to the first man, you watched as he spread out his arms in an innocent gesture. "The sooner we talk, the sooner you can be on your way."
Already fearful and annoyed you cut out a curt reply. "Okay start."
"Three nights ago, in the bar where you worked. About fifteen of our men were killed. You wouldn't happen to have witnessed this would you?"
Blood suddenly running cold, you swallowed, offer a small nod. "Yeah. But I wasn't the one who shot them."
His brows turned up in mocking fashion. "Oh we know you weren't the one who shot them. In fact we know the man did."
"Then why are you here asking me about this." That was the million dollar question. If they knew the guy then why don't they just go after him instead of you?
"The issue with you is not that you witnessed the event. It's because he allowed you to go free. Why that is of course...we might have a general idea seeing as this particular man is not known for his mercy or compassion. Might you be one of his comrades."
Panic filled the recesses of your mind at the implication. "Comrade!? I'd never seen him before in my life. I swear." You shouted.
"Oh? Then why are you alive?"
"I don't fucking know! He killed them and told me I could go home. That's it."
For several long minutes, the men merely stood there and regarded you, not offering a single word of what they might've thought of your explanation. Maybe they were considering letting you go. You truly hoped they were. You hadn't done done anything to deserve getting harmed.
Eventually, the front man gave you a nod. "I believe you…"
You breathed a short sigh of relief. Sadly, that relief quickly turned to terror when he pulled a gun from his jacket and pointed straight at your person. "So sorry. But we can't have any loose ends...I'm afraid we'll have to get rid of you."
Before you could even think of any other response that could keep you from being shot down in the street - the shrill bang of a gun being fired from behind had you withdrawing within yourself and tightly closing your eyes. Vocal noises of panic and gunshots then sounded out around you while you stupidly stood still in the middle with your eyes closed. For approximately ten seconds numerous shots were discharged before the last thing you could hear was a shell casing hitting the ground signalling that everything was over. This however wasn't enough to convince you that everything was all peaches and cream just yet.
You didn't even hear the nearing footsteps under a hand placed itself on your shoulder. With a scream on your lips, you whipped around to see a familiar face. The very man who was the source of tonight's threat on your life. He was still dressed in a clean black suit.
Placing a hand over your heart, you tried to regain your composure although you were very nearly close to being killed. "Oh my god. You scared me."
Despite the emotionless facade, he spoke in a clear concise voice. "I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances."
Yeah, no shit.
"Thank you for saving me. Again."
That was when things really started to change.
The bright light from the television gleamed throughout the otherwise darkened living room space. You were supposed to be working an interview assignment for your broadcasting class but the lull of procrastination prevailed. Once your food is cooking on the stove you'd sat down and watched reruns of the Fresh Prince which was much more appealing opposed to the homework you'd been putting off for the past three days. Usually you'd work ahead and have work done well before it's due date so it wouldn't throw a monkey wrench in any upcoming plans your friends. But right now you just couldn't be bothered.
You fully expected to wake up tomorrow and realize that nothing about your life had fixed itself overnight. That fact you were legally an adult was fucking hysterical.
After being a witness to some pretty bad relationships between your friends and family alike, you swore that you would never allow yourself to be put in a situationship with a man under any circumstances. And as fate would have it - you were currently neck deep in one with a mysterious, professional killer. Never say never you guess.
Far more importantly, you find yourself questioning his identity. Just who was he exactly? You often wondered what he did for a living that required him to kill selected people. He could be a twisted police officer in some way, shape or form. Though you highly doubted that. You didn't know much about police training but you knew his capabilities extended well beyond that of even the most proficient law enforcement agent. An assassin maybe? Well maybe that was a little far fetched but you truly didn't have much to go on. To even suggest that an assassin was based in New York was possibly a sign that maybe you'd seen way too many action films with a similar circumstance.
Though one thing was for certain - he was indeed a killer and a good one at that. Surprisingly, that didn't worry you as nearly as much as your acceptance of the reality and subsequent reaction of merely continuing on with your life as if nothing was amiss. Not once had you indicated to him that you were bothered by his 'occupation'. Never once even initiating a conversation about it - just wanting to mind your own business.
Learning quickly that he was a man of few words - even when he did speak he didn't mince them. honest and straightforward. It was with him that the old saying 'Beware the quiet ones' rang especially true. Of course he was a gentleman.
It was enough to feign like things were fine despite the fact you were letting a man whose name you didn't even know yet rearrange your guts from time to time.
Imagine inviting a guy into your home as a kind gesture of thanks and then the next moment he was deep inside of you abusing your cervix. They'd gone from point A to B in only a matter of moments with no explanation whatsoever. There just wasn't any time to properly process it. No time to question it. And so they never had a discussion about what this was between them. You weren't quite sure if he considered you to be his lover, just that you both had an understanding. Though you weren't exactly sure you wanted to just let it be. The topic would have to be explored sometime.
You consider yourself to be very bold and confident but when he was in close proximity - you quickly withdrew into yourself like a turtle in its shell. He was simply a different breed of man. The type of man that you had to tread lightly around. There would be no running over him like he was a pushover. You might've gotten away scot free doing this with your previous suitors but you knew better than to think he'd permit such conduct from you. He was an apex predator; a skilled executioner capable of dispatching over a dozen armed assailants. A one man army. He couldn't be fucked with. Ever.
You were catapulted out of your thoughts when Alexis and Jasmine practically barraged into your apartment like they owned the place, barely offering you so much as a greeting on their way to the kitchen. Once they fixed their plate of food, the three of you gathered at the kitchen island and the wave of gossip soon started.
"So where's your man-friend?" Alexis asked with a teasing smile.
Jasmine nodded from her place in the kitchen, carrying a sprite in her hand. "Yeah. I want to know more about this mystery boyfriend of yours. Why haven't we seen me yet."
You shrug at the question. "I don't know. I haven't seen him for about a week." And it had been a long week of not seeing him, of not knowing where he was. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't slightly worried. "And he's not my boyfriend."
Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Yeah whatever. What's his name again?"
You lips pursed together and you looked away in embarrassment. "I thought I told y'all that I don't know his name yet."
Jasmine sat her drink down on the countertop. "Wait wait wait...so you don't know his name but you've been letting him buss you down in your house...in your bed. For weeks at that."
Bringing a spoon full of macaroni to your lips, you hesitantly pondered the direct question before deciding to evade the question. "Well it doesn't always happen in my bed."
"You know what I mean. I'm really surprised at you. This is the kind of thing I'd expect from Alexis' scatterbrained ass."
Alexis turned to give Jasmine a look that heavily mirrored the Nick Young gif that you loved to use in the groupchat. You had to stop yourself from laughing at the thought. "There's nothing wrong with living on the edge for a little bit. You just gotta be careful sometimes."
"And just where does the careful part come in for you bitch because you are not careful. You reckless as hell."
"You don't have any room to talk Miss Fuck after the first date."
You nearly choked on the food, trying to stifle the upcoming laugh and it ended up coming out as a scream.
Jasmine said, as her mouth twisted into a half smile, she didn't even deny the accusation. "First of all, that was a one time thing. And he was fine as hell, you've done the same thing."
"Mmmhh." Alexis answered, giving you a look and sipping innocently at her drink.
"This conversation isn't even about me so let's keep it that way. Now back to you…" Jasmine stated, pointing a finger in your direction. "What's the tea? Is it just a sex with no title thing?"
You actually had to take the time to process your response. "On his end it might just be sex to him."
The woman was quick to wave her hand dismissively. "No no. The real question is - is it just sex to you? And don't lie either because you will."
Shoulders sagging in defeat, you sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. Maybe. I know I care enough for him. Even if he did come around and we didn't have sex I probably wouldn't mind. I kind of really enjoy his company in any capacity."
"Do you like him in that way or are you just dickmatised? Because I know the feeling and let me just say...it's nothing to joke about. You ever got your wig fucked off?"
"Shut the fuck up Alexis."
"It's just a question. You the one actin all funny about it." Alexis says, laughing at you though her and Jasmine were waiting on your answer, watching you expectantly with serious yet amused eyes.
"Okay and!?"
"...It might've happened and it might not."
The two of them burst out laughing uncontrollably and you have to place a hand over your mouth to keep from joining them. They were so goofy at times it was downright ridiculous.
"Is he one of those men that as soon as they get theirs they don't care if you finish or not?" Jasmine asked, her brows quirking.
"No he's really attentive and his stamina is out of this world. By the time he's made once I've already had three while working toward my fourth."
Jasmine gave a look of approval. "Damn sis. I wish I could find me somebody like that. The guys I mess with get that nut and are done for two whole business days."
Alexis shook her head. "Tragic."
"I just got lucky I guess." You said.
That was undoubtedly the understatement of the century.
Alexis got up and started looking through all the kitchen cabinet much to your and Jasmine's confusion. "We need to drink. Where's the Paul Masson?"
Your neck turned so fast it almost snapped. "Bitch get out of my kitchen. We are not getting drunk on a Tuesday night. I have shit to tomorrow."
"Ugh, y'all are so lame."
"Rightfully so."
After your girls had gotten their fill of food and juicy conversation they'd taken their leave and left you alone in the apartment once more. Besides it was nearing ten and they should've left for home earlier. After dark, that's where the danger really lurked about in the New York streets.
A distinct knock at the door drew you attention from the screen and you stared at the door for a few moments before getting up from the couch. Peeping through the small peephole proved useless as whoever was on the other side had casted a dark shadow, preventing her from seeing who was on the other side. You clutched the knob idly, twisting it to pull open the door. You expected to find your friends standing there, seeing as how they often left important items like keys at your apartment when they left.
The blood in your veins chilled the second you beheld the arduous brown orbs staring into yours. The look made you froze up in the doorway. There stood the man who'd been on your mind for quite some time. Your stone faced savior stood in his normal suit, hair slicked back from his face, eyes burning with a recognizable emotion. An emotion you were quick to ascertain. However, there were numerous small cuts and a bruise on his face, as if he'd been in some violent altercation. An altercation that he was no doubt the victor. For a man that you knew kept himself in peak physical condition, the wounds were surprising. Nevertheless, the wounds were still a source of worry for on your end and you entertained the thought of running to get your first aid kit.
Being the highly perceptive man he was, he acknowledged the concern on your face, brows drawing down in a look that exhibited no cause for interest. In other words, he was not bothered by the wounds and you shouldn't be either. Immediately, you felt very vulnerable under his hard gaze, your exposed legs starting to feel like jello. Face heating up as you realised that he was unwittingly drawing you into the depths of his powerful focus. Once your cognizance caught up you noticed that you were just allowing him to stand out in the hallway while rudely staring in his face. Flushing, you stepped back to permit him entrance inside, which he wordlessly obliged.
He stood in the space of the apartment, before uttering in his low timbre, "I hope I'm not imposing at this hour." His voice was deep and masculine, it really fit the bill for the killer image he had going. Truthfully, you were somewhat intimidated by him and being in such an intimate predicament with him any amplified that by ten. Though you'd never known him not to be reserved and polite.
Your mind was full of uncertainty and you were quick to lapse into a bought of silence as you noticed that he wore his extremely guarded expression as usual. You were clad in an oversized t-shirt with only white panties underneath and fluffy socks while he was dressed in his customary flawless black suit. By the time the food was prepared was prepared, there wasn't really anything to do but wait for them to arrive. And you were raised to clean as you cooked so at least your apartment was presentable. The same could not be said for your appearance however.
"No of course not! Um, I cooked dinner if your hungry. You can help yourself. If you'd like." You sheepily stated.
"You changed your hair."
Your hand unconsciuosly reached up to touch the hair. "Uh yeah. I know you're used to seeing the huge pineapple puff sitting on top of my head."
Great. Now you were shy.
"You can change the tv channel. I was watching a show but I've already seen all the episodes." You stated before venturing into the kitchen to wash the few plates and utensils in the sink. From there you quickly settled into the mundane process of rinsing and washing. It might be seen as rude to just up and leave the living room but it was a welcome distraction from the individual in your apartment that you didn't even want to look at. This wasn't the first time he'd shown up at random and likely wouldn't be the last. And though you'd never let him see that you were always eager to be in his presence, you'd rather die than alert him of the fact that your heart seemed to want to pound out of your chest when he was around. The trick was to feign nonchalance.
And often you didn't know what to do with yourself in his presence. There was no playing it cool around him. Hell, there was barely any real dialogue between you two and you always find yourself losing the little staring contests that get unintentionally initiated since you're unable to maintain eye contact for longer than five seconds. Only enough tension to cut through butter proof glass in a single stroke.
You didn't realise that you'd zoned out until a familiar heat signature overshadowed your form.
You took a deep breath, the hair on the back of your neck not stand on end as you realized that he was silently standing right behind you. Footsteps had not alerted you to his presence, no he was too stealthy for that - it was the familiar musk of gunpowder and consistent light breaths of air against your skin. You learned not to underestimate the time it took for him to close the distance between you two with rapid fashion. You continued on with your task, pretending as if you didn't know he was there; too nervous to take a chance and decide on another course of action.
Against your own will, you could feel the excitement rising. It was as if your body knew what was coming and started to anticipate the next course of action. Adrenaline rushing within your veins soon followed. You felt that dangerous, lethal energy from him, the one what would soon reduce you to a submissive, simpering mess in a matter of minutes.
You almost flinched when the man delved into your neck, burying his face in your neck, inhaling the sweet scent lingering on the skin. His steady arms wrapped your danity waist, doing nothing further simply engulfing you in a warm embrace.
Subtly glancing over your shoulder, you observed him quietly elegantly unbuttoning his white dress shirt. He didn't take the fabric off completely, he only undid the first five buttons exposing the expanse of his sculpted chest. There wasn't one time where you could recall getting flustered over a man exposing the slightest bit of skin. You weren't a young schoolgirl fawning over a new-found crush; you were an adult woman fully capable of controlling her emotions. At least when he was not present.
Thinking of what would take place between you two after such a long absence instantly transported your mind into a trance-like state of lust. Every nerve ending began to come alive under the touch of his deadly hands. Every inch of your body suddenly feeling abnormally sensitive and longed for his tough to grace your body. He was well-versed in the art of seducing a woman, the process almost entirely punctilious.
One hand placed itself against the small of your back, applying just enough pressure to push your top half forward, essentially bending you over the surface of the sink. Apparently, the man didn't give a damn that you were busy washing dishes. It seemed as though his absence had taken a toll on him as well. It had been too long since you'd received his libidinous affections and now that you were faced with the reality of him actually being here now; sent thrills up your spine.
The man moved to languidly reposition himself to kneel on the floor behind you; large hands simultaneously taking hold of your hips. You let a small startled gasp as he began to explore your bottom half, hands rubbing and massaging your curvaceous backside - generously admiring the glorious swell of the soft globes. You'd found out early on that he had a fascination with it and obviously was not used to dealing with women that had the same attributes. Sliding his palms down to your amble thighs, seemingly to ease the tension out of them. He didn't like it when your were apprehensive and often worked to ensure you were comfortable with his ministrations.
Fingers hooked on the inside of your panties, easing them down past your legs, ensure himself access to your femininity. Moist pink flesh met his perceptive gaze, swollen folds encasing your entrance, the flesh growing increasingly soaked by the minute. Tongue caressing the small bundle of nerves, lathing the flower in slick saliva. Unintelligible noises fell from your mouth as the man persisted with his sexual torment. Your willing body prepared to take whatever he planned to give you. The sensation of his solid tongue on your sensitive slit left you practically weakened. It made you thankful that you didn't use the dishwasher this time around.
Your arms began to grow weak from holding yourself up, mind trapped in a blissful fog. You were sure that you were close to collapsing from his erotic ministrations though any attempts at pushing him away would be met with blanant disregard. There had already been plenty of instances were the man merely held you down in response after you attempted to squirm away from his carnal desires remaining wholly indifferent to your helpless moans.
Shifting your mind back to the present, you felt him maneuver his wiggling muscle deeper in your tight opening, drinking in the sweet nectar that gushed into his waiting mouth. Up and down. Round and round in quick circles. The stimulation was so sinful that you couldn't resist squirming as a spur of elation uncoiled in you stomach. The alluring call of orgasm loomed over you, threatening to engulf you whole. Your head lulled backwards, braids cascading down your back in an enticing fashion as he ate like a starving man who hadn't eaten for days.
You eyes shot open when he pulled away, a sudden unsatisfying emptiness filled your subconsciousness at his absence. With quick hands, he turned you around to face him. The expression he was regarding you with was full of unadulterated hunger. His eyes definitely conveyed his emotions better than unspoken words. His normally tamed hair was somewhat unrestrained in the wake of their salacious activities, eyes burning darkly. When you glanced down, you noticed the tent in his slacks revealed just how well-endowed he was. And you found it hard to believe that you'd been taking it inside your body for the past few weeks.
His dexterous palms were pleasant as they gently kneaded over your supple curves, outwardly enthralled by the feeling of your silky skin. Any other time you might've been ticklish at the feeling but now you could only manage unbridled desire. The way in which he slowly moved his fingers were entirely soothing and you wanted to melt. Leaning down he captured your lips passionately, melding his lips against yours, dipping his tongue in shortly thereafter.
Taking you into his strong arms, maneuvering you how he wanted you were delicately placed onto the open space of the counter, your left side laid against the hard surface. You found the position extremely perverse and revealing, as both your legs were positioned close together as if you were sitting in an invisible chair of sorts. With this position, he had a perfect view of everything including your small snug vulva tucked between puffy lips.
To tell the truth, you weren't sure if you could maintain this position for long and had a feeling that he knew that. That's why he was taking the initiative to support you like this. Gripping your hip, he pulled the curvature of your bottom towards the edge, keeping you there in that position.
He carefully lined his member to your body with deadly precision, leisurely guiding the hot pulsing shaft to your heated cavern, preparing to penetrate.
The tip of the hitman's pillar of flesh pressed against your canal, reaching every conceivable place of your insides. The moment the man's thick shaft began easing it's way into your taut soaking entrance, you convulsed, lost in the haze of pleasure and pain. Your eyes were clenched shut and your mouth fell open to expel a weak cry of pain. The stretching and discomfort was always the worst part for you and it didn't help that your muscles tensed up in a futile attempt to accommodate the welcome intrusion. Keep in mind that he was not easy to take whatsoever, you could hardly believe that you'd been taking him all this time.
A gasp sprang out from between your lips as the man established a rhythm of of digging deep into you, pulling out and then slamming back in. Your soft globes bouncing against his hips and groin, hitting the deepest spot with your sensitive pussy that make stars explode behind your eyes.
Your right hand tugged on his biceps, legs trembling as your heated womanhood struggled to accommodate his length. You groaned throatily as a wave of pleasure washing over your entire form, making your heart race. Moaning softly your gaze was mostly dazed and blurred, mind wandering through an ocean of rapture.
He knew your body better than you did. He was well-acquainted with the tautness of your body. Already familiar with your erogenous zones. It's what practically made you obsessed with him in a short amount of time. That and the way he whispered foreign words to you whilst continuously joining your bodies together passionately.
Tears seeped from your eyes in perpetual flows as you sucked in a breath, the sensory overload almost too much to handle. Thighs starting to lock. The loud slap of moist flesh canvassed the vast majority of the kitchen area, your shakily cries almost just as deafening. The slow, yet forceful pace of his strokes made it felt like your soul was ascending to heaven. You eyes could barely stay open. You writhed under his intense pounding and thrusting, inner walls quivering delectably.
He seemed to push his weight harder into your squeezing body, fingers grasping your waist even tighter than before. Your warm core was gushing around his hard, piercing manhood and you almost couldn't stand it.
Brown hues drunk in the breathtaking image of your twisted, pleasure induced features. Your delirious state probably looked inherently unsexy through his half-lidded eyes. You tried not to focus on the thought and more on the fact that his dick was hilt-deep inside you, stroking back and forth. The tight knot in your stomach was gradually building.
The orgasm was overly intense and had you screaming at the top of your lungs. The aftershocks made your body even weaker, practically reverberating through your dripping and now filled cum sex. Thank God for birth control. It was the first time you could recall where he'd cum during the first round of sex. Maybe he was feening for you just as much as you were for him. For long moments, you two didn't move from your now awkward positions on the counter, seemingly content to stay completely still for a while longer.
You stared into his eyes, undeterred when he simply stared back. There was a question plaguing your mind and you planned to get an answer. "Can you tell me your name?"
He blinked, seeming regarding your question carefully and you truly thought he'd decline to answer. Instead, he proved you wrong by responding with, "It's John. John Wick."