It felt wrong. All wrong.

She hadn't meant to take it this far with Ross, but after a few drinks at his private moonshine distillery, it had seemed like a good idea. Daphne had seen this as a prime opportunity to push her feelings for Fred down deep, very deep. Denial right now kept her heart safe.

After all, Ross was charming, handsome, and successful. Who wouldn't be interested? So when he leaned in to kiss her, gently taking her wrist to lead her back to his plush office for more privacy, she eagerly followed.

The moment that the door closed behind them, his hands were tugging at her shirt, his fingers unhooking her bra with expertise. His skill and speed at undressing her had Daphne guessing that she was far from the first woman to be brought back here, and was certain she'd be equally far from the last.

Oh well, he did have a talented mouth…

While she was still standing, Ross left her lips and kissed across her jaw, trailing down her throat, and moving slowly downwards, his tongue teasing each nipple to a point.

But it felt off, unnatural somehow. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Ross dropped to his knees in front of her, as if in worship, while he shimmied her skirt down her legs. Daphne squeezed her eyes shut, maybe if she pretended it was Fred this would be better, more enjoyable. If he had been the one kissing down her body she'd be a shivering mess by now, completely unable to stand on her own two legs.

Fred….

At that same moment, she felt Ross's prickly mustache against her stomach and it was the final straw. She just couldn't do this. She had a good imagination, but in all truth, he wasn't Fred.

This was so wrong, in every way possible. Why did she think this was a such swell idea?

XXXXXX

Daphne came through the door a little past midnight, removing her heels, and tossing her purse in a corner. She glanced at Fred's side of the room, feeling a cozy warm feeling in her soul when she saw him sitting in bed, laptop in hand.

"Hey," she said with a smile, "I'm back."

Fred didn't bother to look up, "I've been busy finishing those edits you asked for."

Daphne sat down on her own uncomfortable mattress, slipping her jacket down her shoulders. "Thank you for that, Freddie. I didn't mean to stay out so late. We had dinner and drinks and-"

"Where's your bra, Daphne?" Fred cut in, not interested in letting her finish.

She lifted an eyebrow and glanced down at her own chest, her nipples clearly pebbling under her tank from the chilly room air. She blushed a bright red that could rival her hair.

"Did you leave it at his place?" Fred asked, his voice hard as stone.

She did in fact leave her bra at Ross's office, when she'd pushed him away and dressed in a hurry, desperate to get out of there. Daphne didn't feel like mentioning any of this to Fred, however.

She crossed her arms across her breasts, her tone just as icy, "It's none of your business where my bra is."

They glared at each other, the silence between them somehow deafening.

"If I'd known how easy it was to get with you," Fred sneered, "I'd have given you my number years ago."

Daphne's jaw dropped at his harshness, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Instead of retorting, she leaned over and switched off the light to her side of the room.

"I'm going to bed now," was all she said.

XXXXXX

He could hear Daphne's hitched breathing from across the room. Fred couldn't see her, as she was facing the opposite direction, but he knew she was crying. And the fact that he was the cause of it made his chest tighten with regret.

He'd won, hadn't he? He'd sure put Daphne in her place. It was all her fault anyway, dragging him along all this time, making him feel used. Making him feel like she actually cared. She deserved what she got.

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

So why did he feel like such a garbage human being?

For a second, he considered crawling into her bed, holding her close, and whispering apology after apology into her ear. He wanted to move his hands to intimate places that only he should touch, kiss her lips until she begged him to take her, if only once more.

But he didn't.

Instead, Fred rolled over in bed, facing the wall, and fell into a restless asleep while listening to Daphne's muffled sobs.

XXXXXX

Fred wasn't sure how late it was when he woke, only that the hotel room was still dark. The lone source of light being a thin fluorescent beam coming from the window.

He curled inside the blanket, preparing to go back to sleep, when he heard Daphne's soft voice calling out for him, "Fred? Are you awake?"

He didn't answer.

"Freddie?" She tried again.

No. I'm not going to say anything. I'm not going to give her the satisfaction. Let her stew in this turmoil of her own design.

Daphne's hushed statement was anxious, almost pleading, "I know you're not sleeping," she exhaled deeply, "Because you snore."

He remained quiet, and Fred could hear the rustle of her sheets and then the sounds of her feet walking across the cheap hotel carpet. She stopped beside his bed, and despite his better judgment he rolled over to face her.

She stood before him, partially illuminated in the beam of light. Daphne's silk nightgown clung to her body and accentuated her delicate curves. Her hair perfectly framed her face, even being unbrushed and straight from bed. Fred couldn't help but think that she was utterly beautiful at her most vulnerable moments.

Daphne bit her bottom lip nervously, "Just one more time?"

No. No more. All it did was offer a temporary reprieve until she broke his heart all over again. It was akin to torture.

Apparently his brain and his mouth weren't connected, and it shocked him he heard his own voice whisper, "Okay."

He didn't want to watch as she grasped the hem of her gown and flipped it off over her head, revealing herself to be completely naked underneath. Yet, like his mouth, his eyes had a will of their own and he stared greedily.

She reached down to the waistband of his pajama bottoms and tugged them down far enough to free him, his hardness laying flat against his stomach. Daphne climbed up and over, guiding him into herself, sinking down on his length slowly, adjusting to the angle.

"Touch me," she begged, "…please…"

No. He didn't want to encourage her. If Daphne wanted empty emotionless fucking, well, that's just what she was going to get.

His hands, though, moved of their own accord to knead her breasts, before sliding down to cup the cheeks of her ass.

Daphne leaned forward, her hair cascading around his face like their own private cavern. The lavender scent of her shampoo was strong, and he inhaled deeply to bring as much of her inside himself as possible.

She brushed her lips gently against his, whispering, "Friends?"

Absolutely not. He was so beyond that. Fred had no idea what they were, but they certainly were not friends anymore.

Instead of answering her in the usual manner, Fred suddenly thrusted his hips upwards, going unexpectedly deep. He grinned when Daphne gasped in suprise, placing her hands on his chest to steady herself.

XXXXXX

He was still angry. She could tell.

They locked eyes as she rode him, and she quickly looked away. His gaze had always been kind and honest, speaking of something unspoken, but now they held an emotion that Daphne couldn't name. It made her shiver, knowing that the unknown emotion was directed at her.

Fred's hands were normally gentle and soothing, but currently, they were rough. His thrusts going just a little too deep, his fingers digging into her hips just a little too hard, and when he leaned up to catch her nipple with his mouth, she felt his teeth graze instead of his tongue.

"Did he…did he touch you like this?" Fred's breathing was ragged.

"No."

"Don't…don't lie to me Daphne." His statement was punctuated by several deep movements making her moan.

"I'm not," she tried to catch her breath, "I'm not lying, Freddie." She really was being truthful. Her escapade with Ross hadn't gotten to this point.

Without a warning, he rolled them both over, having her head to the pillows with his weight pressing on top. He took her mouth forcefully, making it more of a claim, than a kiss. Fred picked up his pace, going faster, while she pulled him close, enduring his nearly savage onslaught. She had never seen him lose control like this before. It both thrilled and frightened her, knowing that she was the cause of it all.

"Do you think that jerk will even remember your name in a week?" Fred growled, "A month?"

Daphne tried to respond, but all she could do was groan. She was so close...

"But I will, Daphne," he gasped out in between pants, "I will remember you forever. You mean something to me."

She closed her eyes and dug her nails into his back, subconsciously trying to pull him deeper. His voice, his truths, his mouth, his hands, his cock…it all was too much. When she came it felt like she being consumed by a white fire, the intensity of it quite close to pain.

As she came down from her heights, she noticed he was close too, his thrusts becoming sharper. He pulled out of her abruptly, his face contorting in pleasure as he spilled his release onto her thigh, murmuring her name like a mantra.

For some reason, this simple action stunned her. Ever since their first time together, Fred had always finished inside, but this was different. It felt very impersonal, as if this entire physical act had been only that, just a physical act. It stung, like a metaphorical slap to the face.

But this it what she wanted, right? For them to be good friends and devoted coworkers, not lovers. So, why would she expect him to be passionate?

Afterwards, Fred would usually pull her close, stroke her hair, and whisper sweet nothings until her eyes grew heavy. Not tonight, however. He laid down beside her, pulling the blankets tight around himself, and turned over to face the wall again.

She waited for Fred to say something, anything, but he never did. After several minutes of silence, his breathing evened out, and he began to snore softly. His sudden dismissal of her rocked Daphne to the core, leaving her woefully unsatisfied.

Disappointed for reasons she couldn't explain, she climbed out of his bed quietly, being careful not to wake him as she wiped the mess off her thigh with his sheet. Reaching around on the floor for her nightgown, she pulled it back on before sliding into her own bed, lost in her thoughts.

Of all the times they'd done this, she had never left him feeling...scummy, and right now she did. She felt almost dirty. And all Fred had done was follow her precise instructions.

Daphne sighed and covered her face with a pillow. Something needed to be done about this situation.