Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews! I like hearing what you think. You are correct, Paige suspects he's undercover, and has heard that she might be getting a new roommate, but doesn't know the two are connected. She's not quite sure who he is, she assumes he's a police officer or something, but she's not too concerned about it because she's on a mission. I'm considering rewriting this entire story from her POV, but I don't really think it will be necessary.
WARNING: THIS IS THE SMUT CHAPTER. Sorry I don't write smut (or anything that's not primarily dialogue driven) well.
"Don't worry. This area's off limits." The girl says pushing him up against the cement wall. Mike just nods and leans down to capture her lips with his again. This is so not anything he ever thought he would do, but now that it's happening he doesn't want to lose his nerve. He kisses down her neck and begins to slide the thin fabric of her bra down to expose her bare skin to his hungry lips. Her fingers tangle in his hair and she throws her hair back, but all too soon she's tugging at his hair to come back to face level with her.
"There's no time. If I don't get you back soon, your buddies are going to think I snuck you out the stage door and absconded with you." The girl's voice is a sigh, as she murmers. "Which I admit is tempting."
The words remind Mike of the seriousness of the situation however, and he quickly spins her around so it's her back against the wall as he squints down the dark hallway. As if her mentioning them will somehow summon them to find Mike. If the Russians think he's made a run for it then… god her tongue is in his ear. That's amazing. How had he made it this far in life without realizing the pleasures a tongue in his ear could bring?
"Condom." She gasps breathlessly.
"What?" He asked, not understanding English anymore than Russian at the moment.
"Condom!" She repeats urgently, bringing her lips back to his, wrapping a leg around his waist and rocking her hips up to meet his.
"Oh! Condom! Shit." Mike wonders briefly where he would get one, and why a woman in her profession didn't have one. Not that she had anywhere to hide it in that tiny outfit. Mike reaches down to his wallet as a hail mary, and he is going to throw Johnny a parade when he gets back, because of course Johnny would think Mike would need a condom in his wallet as part of his cover. A wedding ring they forget, but a condom they give him.
Mike's fingers fumble, and he drops his wallet on the floor but doesn't care. With ruthless efficiency, she takes the condom from his shaking hands, rips the wrapper open and lets the foil pieces flutter to the ground.
"I want you to know, I never do this. This isn't me." Mike gasps into her mouth as she slides the rubber over him.
"I don't care who you are. Fuck me." The girl says bringing her hands up to his shoulders lifting herself up to line up with his hips. Bracing himself with one hand and holding her up against the wall with the other, Mike thrusts harshly into her. There's no build up. No tender lovemaking. His smooth skin is against her front, and the rough cement scraping her back, the girl lets out soft moans as Mike pumps into her as if his life depends on it.
"Oh God, Frankie." She cries out again and again as he penetrates her roughly.
"No names." Mike groans, wishing he could hear his real name fall from her lips, but not wanting to hear someone else's.
"Pseudonym?" She asks in between moans.
Mike can't answer her honestly, but he can't help the smirk from overtaking his lips even as he exerts himself holding her up against the wall as he thrusts into her willing body. The smirk tells her what she's already guessed; Frankie is an alias. She may never know who this man is who currently burying himself deep inside her, but at this moment the anonymity just seems to serve as an aphrodisiac for them both.
"Good. Stupid name anyways." She makes a noise that sounds halfway between a laugh and a moan. Mike hides his grins in the crevice of her neck as he continues to fuck her against the wall. She was sassy.
"Harder." She moans, arching against the wall, reaching for release and if Mike even had a thought that he was going to rough for this girl it's erased from his head. She can take it. She's tough.
"Can't from this angle…" Mike's arms are straining from the force of holding her up against the wall, and he can't get the leverage he needs to complete her request. Lowering her to the ground, she moans in protest as he pulls out of her. He quickly flips her around and pins her flat up against the wall. His body forms a human cage behind her, his arm reaching up to brace his hand high on the wall beside hers.
"Tell me something true." Mike begs breathlessly in her ear.
"You're so good. God you feel so good inside me. Not gonna last. Oh you're going to make me cum." For once this is the truth and not just lies she murmers to boost men's egos. Whoever this kid is, he knows how to fuck.
"No! Not something dirty. Something true about you." Mike groans as his hand grips her breast and she arches against him. "What's your favorite color?"
"Seriously?" The girl asks breathlessly as she pushes back to meet his thrusts, trying to get him even deeper inside her.
"I just want to know, something, fuck, anything real about you." Mike Warren has never done anything like this in his life, and even though he feels a connection, an obvious physical connection, his rational mind can't get over that he knows nothing about this girl. For a moment Mike thinks she won't answer, but finally she moans out one word.
"Blue."
"Why?" He challenges through gritted teeth as he tries to think of her words rather than the feeling of her wet and tight around him. He wants this to last. Even though at this point she seems out of her mind with pleasure, she complies as best she can.
"Ocean… first car… smurfs... your eyes…" To anyone else it would sound like meaningless babble, but to Mike it meant the world. He could see her walking along the beach staring out at a sunset with the waves lapping at her bare feet. The sixteen year old girl screaming in delight and surprise over the beat up piece of junk car that her parents bought her for her birthday. The small girl covered in blue marker chasing the boys through the woods complaining about always having to be smurfette. The terrified look he must have had when her eyes first met his.
"When I first walked in here, you were the first thing I saw." Mike whispers in her ear as she pushes back against his thrusts. He wants to tell her something true, and there's so little he can share. Mike's not even sure the girl hears him as she tries to grind both forward on his hand and back against his dick. He pulls her back against his hips, "Up on stage. Swaying. You were… Oh my god. The most beautiful, fuck yes, thing I'd ever seen."
"I'm so close. Just like that." She cries out as he seems to find the perfect angle to drive deep inside her. "Yes, please. Oh god. I need it. Need you. So good. "
Her entire body is shoved against the wall, as Mike ruts her from behind. His left hand is on the wall for leverage, the other hand is buried between her legs, rubbing her roughly in time with his thrusts. She rocks her hips forward against his hand and then back to take him deeper inside of him, seemingly unable to decide which brings her more pleasure.
Mike captures her lips with his as best he can at this angle, as they slam together again and again. She's not fragile, and Mike drives her into the wall, her encouraging him on with soft mewls the whole time. Mike has never experienced anything like this before. It's animalistic, almost inhuman sex. He has never just needed someone so badly that his logic was overcome. For once he wasn't thinking, he was just living, and each slap of skin against skin seemed to bring him more to life.
As he feels her quake around him, he feels his own moment of ecstasy crash upon him like a tidal wave. His mouth bites down hard on her neck, his eyes squeeze shut, and his pinky finger stretches out to link with her's. Even though he is buried inside her, it's the small gesture of linking their fingers, almost like they were holding hands, that feels the most intimate. He doesn't even know her name, yet as he pants into her bare shoulder, glistening with sweat and glitter, he feels a deep connection.
Mike's vision slowly comes back to him, but for a long moment the two just stand pressed against the concrete wall, panting in time with each other as they gasp for air and try to calm their pulses. Finally Mike pulls himself out of her and turns with his back against the cool cement beside her, still heaving for breath.
She rests her sweaty forehead against the wall turning to face him, a satisfied glow on her face as the two stare appreciatively at each other. Whatever had them wound up tight before has released like a coil within them, and they both have the easy slow sluggishness that only great sex can bring. If they were in bed together, Mike would pull her into his arms and take a nap, but he has a job to get back to.
"Look I don't mean to be, oh my god, rude but… I have to go. I'm sorry. I mean you're… fuck… the most beautiful… I just can't… Could I come back another night?!" Mike can't form complete thoughts after the mindblowing sex that had just occurred, "Another night. Any other night. Look I know you don't know me, and christ… That's not me. I swear but… Fuck. Can I just buy you dinner next week?"
"You want to buy me dinner?" The red head laughs in surprise, as she pulls her bra back up to cover her breasts, such as she can with such thin fabric.
"Yes. I really, really do." Mike says, staring deeply into her eyes hoping she'll see how sincere he is at this moment.
"I think at this point, doesn't all that wining and dining seems a little superfluous?"
"I don't care. Please. Have dinner with me." Mike says, realizing he's coming off as way too intense, but he doesn't care. He can't think about that right now. He just knows this cannot be the last time he sees her.
"What? Do you want to date me?" She laughs, "Aren't you married?"
"I… I can't… I just have to see you again. What's your name?" Mike asks desperately.
"Roxie." The redhead replies without missing a beat.
"Not your stripper name. Your real name." Mike calls her out on the obvious lie.
"Tonight it's Roxie. It might be different tomorrow night though..." She teases flirtatiously in a way that makes Mike lose his breath and consider going for round two against the wall.
"God, can I… can I call you tomorrow?" Mike begs.
She eyes him suspiciously, hesitating. It's the first sign of doubt he's seen her express, and he can tell she's breaking some sort of personal rule she's set for herself, though he has no idea where her moral compass points. He just knows he wants to find out more about her.
"Please. Just dinner."
"Give me your phone." She finally says, but seems to be second guessing herself.
"I…" Mike realizes a phone is not in his possession. Frankie doesn't have a phone. "I don't have one. Tell me the number. I promise I'll remember it."
"Really?" She looks at him doubtfully.
"Trust me, I have a really good memory." Mike insists.
She leans in and quickly whispers her number in his ear. Mike knows he will remember those digits until the day he dies.
"Ok, then… Guess I'll talk you tomorrow." She says, as though she doesn't actually think he'll call her.
"You will." He promises.
She awkwardly gives him a kiss on the cheek, but as she pulls away the cool confident mask is back in place as she whispers, "Say you were going to the restroom though, the boss won't like me fraternizing with customers."
"Where are you going?" Mike asks, walking her head off in the opposite direction.
"To the dressing room. You seem to have stolen all my lipstick." She gives him one last mischievous grin before turning around a dark corner.
Mike watches her go with a dazed smile. He begins to rebutton his shirt. He ducks back into the bathroom to do damage control.
He slides the used condom off and disposes of it in the toilet. He fixes his clothes, and then leans into the mirror trying to ignore the shiteating grin on his face which is evidence he clearly just had sex. He double checks for any other evidence. His scar is still in place over his forehead, though his hair is even more mussed than before, and his lips and neck are covered with smeared remnants of red lipstick. He touches his bruised and tingling lips, licking the last taste of cherry from them. Looking down at his watch he quickly turns it back on.
"Sorry. I was worried they were going to do another sweep. I'm back now." Mike says to his watch, grinning into the mirror. Even though it's only a one way feed, Mike can practically hear Johnny calling him a dirty dog on the other side.
He walks out of the bathroom and back down the hall towards the area where the Russians are waiting for him. They must be pretty confident Mike aka Frankie won't run. He notices the doors he walks past and one of them says dressing room and is heavily guarded by two bouncers. But if the dressing room is up here, then where did Roxie go back the other way? Mike doesn't have time to think about that though, because the Russians are paying their bill and dragging him towards the door. Apparently now that the strip break is over, it's time for Frankie to go kill someone.