Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several innocent short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.
11. Midnight Snack
The house seemed frozen. Not having put anything on, Creed rubbed his arms to try and get rid of the goosebumps and went straight to the fridge for a beer. The icy liquid flowed down his throat, cooling him down, sobering him up.
He wandered into the living room and surveyed the woman's bags scattered around; her coat on the floor. He stepped closer and crouched, noticing the shreds of fabric from her jeans. They still had her scent, including the alluring aroma of her arousal. He remained there, thoughtlessly involved in the scent, until his stomach growled. He took a long sip, nearly emptying the bottle. He was getting a hard on again, remembering her hands all over him, her eager kissing. The scent of arousal was surely something he wouldn't be smelling on the woman any time soon, though. He got up, grumbling at the turn of events. And here he'd been thinking about enjoying the woman's eager willingness for a few days!
In the kitchen he opened the freezer and took out a big steak, dropping it into the sink. He gazed past it, though. This was not going to do. He was not going to have his brand new little toy – all his own for once – get broken on the very first time he used it. No. He had had enough trouble, had been oh so very patient, to have that darned housekeeper willing and eager to open her legs for him every time he wanted and he was not about to give up now. He'd have what he wanted. It might take some more maneuvring, even put up with a bit of drama, but he had better fix it now. And preferably before eating, to avoid any drama-induced indigestion.
He finished the beer and got two more bottles from the fridge. A stupid woman she might be, sometimes; but she also knew how to behave herself most of the time. As he climbed the stairs, he told himself she had had time to cry all she had to and got herself over it. Nevertheless, he approached the room cautiously. The heat and strong scent of sex were irradiating softly through the open door, but Creed had steeled himself against it. Still, it attacked his senses, suffocatingly, when he entered. The woman was curled up in the bed, her face to where Creed had previously been, eyes closed. Her breathing was calm, but the saltiness of tears was very fresh. He approached the bed silently.
"Have a beer." The woman opened the eyes with a stiffening start, then breathed out and relaxed.
"You scare me," she protested softly as she got up, then grimaced while searching for a comfortable sitting position. "I'm sorry. I left de bed all wet off de tears."
"Thought ya said ya wasn't cryin'." The woman looked up at him, brown eyes guarded as her cheeks blushed lightly. Then she accepted the bottle.
"I wasn't crying." She looked at the bottle in her hands as she blurted the shameless lie. "I had something in my eye."
Creed took a couple of sips, never letting his eyes off her. She seemed composed enough, just a bit tired, disillusioned. 'Well, that's life,' he told her in his thoughts. He caressed her body with his gaze... the curve of the shoulder; the long hair fondling the creamy skin of her neckbone when she finally lifted the bottle for a shy sip; the small breasts, less luscious to the eyes but so intense to the touch; the well-toned stomach, creasing in two slender folds because of her slumped back; the round, inviting hips; the...
"You don't sit," she hardly voiced the words, her heart beat nearly drowning them. The glow on her cheeks intensified under his steady gaze and Creed licked his lips, standing stark naked and planning on staying that way until she stopped feeling embarrassed about it.
"Violent," he explained, "means ya're bleedin' all over. Means ya'll need medical attention ASAP or else. Maybe not even bother callin' no one 'cause ya're already gone. That's violent."
Had she changed her mind, had she asked him to stop, fought him... then it would have gotten violent.
"Look at me."
The woman raised her head, blushing harder as her eyes hurried up his body, her heart beat clearly audible, surrounded by a slight scent of apprehension. She wasn't beautiful. Pretty, maybe, when her eyes looked at him with stubborn decision and she looked incensed over something. Nevertheless, beautiful women didn't necessarily make him as hungry as this woman did. Creed felt himself grow back to life and downed the rest of the beer, putting the bottle on the bedside table. He so wanted her hands on him, to hear her cry out his name, begging him to get inside her and fuck her till she dropped. He sat on the bed, opposite her, taking a deep breath to curb his renewed lust. Right now, even if she didn't refuse him, she couldn't be further from pleading for more.
She tensed up as he sat, her gaze unsure where to fall on to avoid the sight of his naked body. Creed wetted his lips. "Look at me." Her eyes were anxious, and she swallowed hard when he took the bottle of beer out of her hands and placed it with the other one.
"It's like ya said. I got what I wanted and enjoyed it..." He reached for her hair and grabbed a few strands, rolling them around his finger. "But you didn't get what ya wanted."
Confusion replaced some of the anxiety. Creed let go of her hair and straightened up, giving her more room to breathe. "Well, now's yer chance."
He enjoyed the way suspicion and determination warred in her eyes for a minute. Then she tested him. "Maybe I want be alone."
He curbed a grin.
"I ain't gonna fuck ya again till ya asks fer it." There was a slight twitch of disbelief in her eyebrow, despite her attempt to remain expressionless. "I ain't sayin' I won't ask fer a blowjob if ya gimme a hard-on, mind ya, but that's all the fucking there's gonna be till you says so."
Safety and control, the two things the woman prized the most, and he was giving them to her on a silver tray. She bit her lower lip.
"I don't like dat word, fuck. Is like an insult."
"It ain't no insult," he explained, still nice and easy. "It's just a word fer gettin' laid!"
"I learn de word like an insult, 'fuck you'." She insisted, determination settling in. "I only learn what is 'to fuck' later. So it always look like an insult. Why not say sex? Dat is de word for... uh... sex."
"Whatever. No sex till ya says so. Happy now?"
Obviously not. As if he could have expected to lure her into some foreplay that easily. She'd probably want to talk her head off first. "Uh... What is... hmm... bowjob?"
"Blowjob." Great. He'd have to go through the whole dictionary first. "It's you suckin' my dick."
She narrowed her eyes quizzically. "Does oral sex ring any bells fer ya?"
"Ah!" And she quickly glanced down, obviously measuring him and wondering how to avoid that particular price.
He was starting to lose his patience, but kept the prize he wanted in mind. "Or ya can just jerk me off," he added as an incentive. "Use yer hand 'stead o' the mouth."
She bit her lip more deeply and Creed's stomach growled. "Whatever! I'm gonna fix myself a snack. Lemme know when ya decide somethin'."
Creed was still naked, which had elicited some growling when the frying pan had decided to create a burst of simmering fat everywhere. Fortunately, he had only needed the meat to defrost, while getting its sides nice and ready, and soon sat down for a relaxing snack.
The house was solemnly silent, so he could hear with unwanted precision when the woman got up from the bed and wandered into the bathroom, keeping the water running into the washbasin for quite some time. Then he heard his wardrobe door being opened, and he nearly went back up and taught the woman to keep her curiosity in check, but then decided against. He could do that after eating; he didn't want the steak getting cold. Fortunately for the woman, her curiosity was short lived; which didn't mean she wasn't going to get some heat for it. He snorted as she started climbing down the stairs at an annoying snail's pace. When was he going to have some time to eat his relaxing snack peacefully!
When she finally arrived at the kitchen door, wearing a shirt that was far too big for her frame and made him want to rip it off her, Creed breathed out, guessing he could let her go with only a warning. However she got ahead of him. "I'm sorry I went get one your shirt... I didn't have my clodes in de room. Is it OK?"
"Ya can keep that one," he conceded. "But ya have better avoid goin' through my stuff, woman."
She didn't say anything and stood at the doorway, as he swallowed a piece of meat and cut some more. Creed could feel her eyes on him and looked up, exasperated. "Whatch'ya lookin' at? Ain't ya ever seen a man eatin' before?"
"No if he's naked." She stated, flat as ice.
Now he was getting angry. "Look, I'm tryin' ta eat here. Ya don't keep yer eyes t'yerself, I'm gonna give ya a few more reasons fer hurtin', got it?"
"In de bedroom, you said I can get what I want. So I can... get what I want."
Creed suppressed his irritation as best he could. He was still hungry, and unless this was hurrying up towards round three of the night, he'd much prefer eating first. "And what is it ya wannna get, huh?"
She embraced herself, the loose shirt still hiding her shape, and shrugged. There was a hint of colour on her cheeks. "I want... see you."
"That's what ya want? What, ya're a voyeurist with a fetish fer naked-steak-eatin'-men?" There was that incensed look burning in her eyes, and there was nothing he'd have wanted more than to eat the darned steak off her body and then make her scream till she had no voice left. "Get out an' lemme eat."
As if she would. She embraced herself harder, and looked to the side, biting her lower lip in irritation. But it was only for a moment; then she looked back at him, eyes moist and angry.
"You went to de room and you say 'decide'. I decide, I come here and you say 'go away'. You decide now: I stay, and I look at you what I want, or I go, and é o fim da história. Final point."
Creed put down the fork and knife and snarled. "Ya could've looked all ya wanted upstairs, but ya was busy lookin' everywhere else. Now, ya keep yer eyes t'yerself."
"But you were looking at me!"
"Yeah, I was. So what!?"
She blushed then opened her mouth to talk, but no sound came out and she ended up just blushing harder. She had no idea what she wanted, just as she had no idea what to do or say, Creed decided, which meant she'd do the first thing that got into her head and would stubbornly go through it no matter what. Taking a deep breath, he saw the wisdom of hinting at a sensible course of action that didn't put her in a collision route with his temper.
"Quit bein' a moron an' sit down."
The woman clenched her teeth and looked at the wall. Instead of forcing her to obey, though, Creed went to a cupboard and took out a dish. He got a fork and a knife from a drawer, and put everything on the table, opposite his seat. Finally he cut a small portion off his own steak and landed it roughly on the new dish.
"Sit down," He said one last time before sitting down himself. The woman hesitated for two whole seconds before starting to walk towards the table, slowly and carefully, which irritated him. He was going out of his way for the thankless brat and she did nothing but aggravate him. "Why're ya bein' slow on purpose, ya moron? Ya wanna get a beatin', just say so and we'll cut t'the chase!"
She paused, looking at him with purposeful anger. "It hurts when I walk normally."
Oh, right. He'd forgotten about that. She sat down cautiously then glared at the piece of meat. Well, at least she wasn't staring at him anymore. Hopefully he'd get to finish his meal quietly.
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