Mark Hoffman

He didn't know the details on why Kerry asked him to take Matthews on a case. But judging by how quiet and depressed the guy was, he had a few ideas. Guess the cat's out of the bag.

"Hey, Hoffman." McCallister greeted them as they made their way to the parking lot. Roger McCallister worked in Narcotics and, back when Hoffman and Matthews had been partnered as rookies, had been a friend. But once Hoffman ended up cornered to being Rosello's gofer, McCallister had treated him as if invisible for years. Now, the stout redhead was beaming up at him as if he was Santa Claus. "At some point, I'd like to pick your brain on this case I'm having a hard time on."

"Sure, I'll come by." Hoffman was enjoying this newfound attention. Now, people came to him for help. They trusted him, eager for his advice on how to handle a particular murder investigation or approach an interrogation.

Matthews seemed on autopilot, grumbling to himself that he needed to buy a new lighter on the way out to the scene. He had buzzed his hair. Hoffman never pointed it out, knowing it was a way to cope with the rapid thinning hairline he was currently experiencing.

Will walked past the two men, a fat stack of papers in her hands. She beamed at him as she power walked to their office, red curls bouncing.

He never wanted to lose this feeling, this high he was experiencing every time he looked at her.

Angie's wedding was next week. Rosello was gone.

Will and him were back to working together. After his day being Matthew's therapist, that was.

No problems in my corner.

Life was finally starting to look up.

For Matthews, though, the man had lightning in his eyes and dark clouds over his head.

"Kerry mentioned a domestic dispute. Uptown."

"Fine. Stop by the liquor store on the way there."

Hoffman raised an eyebrow but didn't refuse.

They stopped along the way, Matthews scowling and going into the store to return with a brown paper bag, a carton of cigarettes, and a new lighter. Hoffman felt himself relax when Matthews shoved the bottle of bourbon in the glove box. That was one complication he didn't have to deal with.

Hoffman rolled down the windows as Matthews chainsmoked the rest of the journey.

When they arrived at the address, the apartment building looked fairly maintained. One of the higher end properties that must have cost a fortune every month. The front door was propped open by a brick. No doorman to be seen. Matthews sauntered through, Hoffman darting his eyes around.

There had been emergency calls by several neighbors about a violent altercation with the couple. He and Eric were sent to check in on her, after the wife refused to press charges.

Rex and Jane Wilson. The name was familiar. Hoffman wasn't sure from where.

When they knocked on the door, the door opened and Hoffman knew.

He cursed himself for not remembering soon enough.

"You." Rex Wilson, the man who filed a complaint with IA for Rigg breaking his jaw, stood and stared half-surprised-half-furious at the two detectives. Though years since the surgeries had taken place to heal his cracked skull, there were still traces of the scars underneath his stubble. "I told you guys last night. We were just having an argument."

The wife appeared and Rex turned to yell at her. "I've got this, Jane." After the woman fled, Rex turned back, smirking. "Women. Am I right?"

Matthews did not appear amused, instead leaning against the door frame threateningly. "What happened to your hands?" His lip was pulled back in a sneer, rubbing his thumb against the side of his nose.

The guy looked down at his knuckles, purple and scabbed. "Punched the wall a few times. I told you guys, I didn't hurt her. She told you."

"We'll need to hear it from her."

The guy wanted to protest but Matthews lurched and grabbed Rex by the collar. "Listen here, you bastard. I'm in a shitty mood. Bring Jane out here or I'm gonna make your face match your hands."

"Again?! You think you can get away with fucking me over twice?"

"Eric," Hoffman pulled his friend off the guy. "Calm down," he growled, despite wanting more than anything to release the dogs on this piece of shit. Hoffman had a special hatred in his heart for wife beaters.

Matthews cursed and stormed away.

Hoffman sighed, shaking his head. Maybe it was because the wife's name was Jane. Matthews needs to take a sabbatical. Before he does something stupid.

"Please," the woman's shaky voice had him turn to her. She had her hand on the door knob. "I'm fine. Please go. Please." She looked terrified, her eyes brimming.

But there wasn't anything more he could do, if she insisted there was nothing wrong.

The bruises on her neck and face were red.

Hoffman's mind went to Will.

"Fine." He took out his business card, discreetly pushing it into her hands. The husband was at her back, coolly watching them. "In case something comes up," he quietly muttered before adding louder, "Appreciate your time."

She shook her head. "Thank you. Goodbye." The door closed quickly in his face.

He hated handling domestic abuse cases.

Neither did Matthews, it seemed. The guy was found right outside the front door with his nostrils flared, scratching his head.

"Sorry. I'm on edge."

Hoffman nodded. "Maybe you should take the rest of the day off."

Matthews shook his head. "And what, sit in my shitty motel room and count the cracks in the ceiling?"

Hoffman stood in silence. He wasn't one to pry. If the man wanted to tell him, he would. Otherwise, it wasn't any of his business.

"Jane's leaving me. She knows I've been cheating. But not who." Matthews shook his head, looking closer to crying than Hoffman had ever seen. "Fuck. How did it get so fucked?" He looked at his friend, defeat drawn on his frown. "You know what she said?"

"What?"

"That it's not like Daniel would notice the difference, me not being there ever. That fucking bitch." He went to light a fresh cigarette and took a low drag, smoke flowing out of his nostrils as he grunted back what sounded like the start of a sob.

"You can crash on my couch if you need."

Matthews shook his head. "Thanks, Hoffman. Really. But it's best if I'm on my own. Don't need to get in your way."

"Let's get some grub."

"Nah. Let's just head back."

Not one to argue with a man whose life was falling apart, Hoffman took Matthews back to the station. They went to McCallister's office, the guy currently glaring at various photographs.

"Hoffman. Matthews. How you bastards doin'?"

"Cut to the chase, Roger," Matthews had lit another cigarette. "What's the deal?"

"Tryin' to nab this dealer. We know he's working with the K2K gang. But every time we think we've got 'em he ends up clean. Fucker's quick. It's takin' too long to wait for 'em to slip up."

Hoffman reviewed the file, briefly scanning the statements and looking down at the evidence listed. Guy was never found with so much as a joint on him, though he was supposedly slinging heroin.

"Maybe he's clean," Hoffman suggested.

McCallister shook his head. "Nah, we had a witness come forward once, but quickly backed out. Must have been silenced. Bribed, likely."

"You know what you should do?" Matthews leaned forward with a mean smile. "You know this asshole's guilty. Just take a shortcut."

Hoffman looked at Eric, wondering if he heard the guy right. He wouldn't say he was surprised, per se. More impressed by the frankness.

McCallister, clearly, was as well. "You suggestin' I plant some on him?"

"Save taxpayer money. Put another dealer away. I suggest you administer justice, Roger."

Hoffman liked how Matthews phrased that. Administering justice.

Roger McCallister leaned back, scratching his cheek as he pondered this. "I was thinkin' about it. Never pulled it, though. How do I make sure that this," he tapped his desk, "doesn't blow up in my face?"

"It won't. IA's a bunch of pussies and idiots. And who are they gonna believe? A no-good piece of shit with a record? Or a man of the law? Especially when we back each other up. Hell, I'll go to the scene and be your second set of eyes."

McCallister looked impressed. "All right. At this point, I'll try anythin'."

"Prick won't see it coming," Matthews smirked while McCallister let out a raucous laugh.

Will Maddox

"Do you, Angelina Marie Hoffman, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?"

"I do."

"And do you, Peter Nicholas Acomb, take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?"

"I do."

"Then the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

When the bride and groom kissed, Will joined the thunderous applause that broke out. In a sea of green and gold, draped in a satin bridesmaid dress next to Allison Kerry, Will watched as Angelina Hoffman became Angelina Acomb.

She glanced over at Mark, who had the widest smile she had ever seen, as he watched his little sister on her happiest day.

Will loved weddings.

Despite how her marriage went, she remembered hers with fond, if not bittersweet, memories. And this wedding easily ranked her top three.

She would never forget seeing Mark and Angie walk down the aisle together, her brother looking like he was doing everything he could not to cry.

It was the sweetest moment she had ever seen.

She hoped Angelina pulled through with providing photos of the ceremony.

The bride and groom walked down the aisle, arm in arm, and the maid-of-honor and best man followed. Finally, Will slid her arm into Mark's and the two followed the rest of the wedding party out to music and the claps of the audience.

He felt warm through his suit, their linked walk both awkward and comforting. "It's going to be okay, Mark," she teased once they stepped out to the foyer, breaking apart. He gave her a look and she giggled. Behind them, the patrons began filing out of the chapel and made their way towards the dining hall.

It had been a surreal week. The rehearsals and preparations had brought the two of them together in a new light. Instead of solving murders and dealing with concentrated violence, they had been spending a great deal of time simply enjoying each other's company.

Doing normal, happy things together.

She liked it and was feeling a gentle sadness sweep over her when it dawned on her that after that weekend, they would be back to work. Exclusively spending time trying to catch criminals. Cling to life in sudden shootouts. Survive the pain.

Despite his recent hospitalization, he stood tall and proud. He seemed fine.

"Hey. Everything's going to be okay," Mark returned her previous statement, though not with the same humor as she. "You look like you're about to cry."

She fanned herself, not wanting her makeup to run. "Me? No, I'm fine."

"Right." He pulled at his bowtie, clearing his throat.

Changing the subject, she held her bouquet for him to hold while she reached up to straighten the silk fabric. "You know, you're quite dashing in this."

"It itches," he grumbled. "You look good too."

Her cheeks grew warm. "You have a way with words," she tried to sound sarcastic but fell flat.

"Hey," Kerry approached, waving her bundle of flowers towards the line of bridesmaids. "Lovebirds, it's time."

The wedding reception was full of MPD and various friends of Angelina and Peter. Will and Mark walked by Matthews, who looked like he was doing everything he could to smile but resulted in him looking constipated.

Daniel and Tracy Rigg held drinks up when they walked by, the two looking relatively boozed and content.

"You ready for the dance?" She looked at her partner with a wary grin.

She felt him stiffen against her. "I'll get by for a couple of seconds."

"Don't worry, I won't expect the cha cha slide."

"The what?"

"Nevermind."

They took their seats, assigned to be next to each other. Allison was with her groomsman, the two clearly hitting it off. Mark had thrown back his glass of champagne and was already looking for his next refill.

"Here," Will slid her flute towards his hands, the man taking it wordlessly. He seemed nervous, a noticeable first for her to see. "I never took you for a guy who had stage fright."

"I'm not one for the spotlight," he muttered.

"Lucky for you, this is a once in a lifetime kind of moment."

"Yeah. I keep telling myself that. If Ange divorces him, I'm not dancing for the next one."

"You think they'll split?"

"Nope. Only way they're splitting up is the whole 'death do they part'. Ange is stubborn like that."

Once the bride and groom had their first dance, it was time for the bridesmaids and their groomsmen to join. Will took Mark's hand and steered him to the floor, turning and letting him take the lead.

His hand rested on her waist, eyes looking down at his feet. He moved with the careful shyness of a scarecrow, as though he was desperately avoiding stepping on her toes. A drop of sweat was running down his temple as his lips pursed.

She tried to go with it but despite the gentle music he barely budged. "Mark."

He looked up, locking eyes with her.

"Just look at me. Like we practiced. One. Two. Three." She moved and counted out loud softly, repeating her cadence. He picked it up, finally moving with her, until he seemed to finally go with the flow.

She looked up at him, realizing he was watching her with an intensity that gave her goosebumps. She smiled widely, taking in the steel blue of his eyes.

"I can see the big dipper," he said.

She blinked. "What? Where?"

His eyes swept across her face. "On your right cheek. Your freckles."

"Shut up." She had the urge to smack him and tried to pull away.

He chuckled and tightened his grip on her, pulling her closer, their chests now touching. "Now, you're blushing."

"You're an ass." She smelled the amber and cinnamon of his cologne. "But at least you don't smell like one."

"Ouch. Do I normally smell like ass?"

"No. You're fairly clean. For an ass."

Seconds became minutes, until she realized the rest of the audience had joined.

"You know, this is nice," Mark admitted. "Don't know why I was worried."

"You just need the right dance partner," she smiled back. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. And thirsty."

"Same. Let's start with drinks."

"You've read my mind." The two of them stopped moving, though another second lingered before they let go of each other's hands.

The rest of the evening, the two of them hung out by the open bar. Will had nabbed various servings of the food: glazed salmon, prime rib, shrimp, kabobs sliders, and more were available. It was a feast fit for a fine chef's wedding.

"Angie certainly outdid herself with the food," Will was in between chewing while Hoffman had already finished two plate fulls and was helping himself to some of her kabobs.

"She pulled a few favors for catering. She has a lot of friends at work."

Will nodded, feeling warm and light from the drinking. "Their kids are going to be so cute."

Hoffman choked on a slider, coughing hard into his napkin. Will smirked as she took another sip of whiskey. "Yeah," he growled, face purple.

"Sorry about that," Will finished her drink and waved to the bartender for another, taking a deep breath as she felt her pulse quicken. She had a little too much too early and she needed to sit down.

"Hey. You okay?" Hoffman had a cheek full of meat, chewing.

"Yeah. Just been a long day."

"Maddox," Matthews called out, stumbling over to them. Allison was in tow, cheeks pink and looking glassy eyed. "Get me a drink."

"Get it yourself, the bartender's right here." Will shifted over to make room for their colleagues. Matthew leaned against the bar, clearly decimated with liquor. Kerry rolled her eyes and leaned her head against Will's shoulder.

"Fun night?"

"Hon, you don't know the half of it." Ally was breathless, smelling of wine and lilacs. She was sparkling with gems on her ears and neck, a vision of loveliness in the drunken haze.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Angelina's voice on the microphone captured everyone's attention, the bride in her grand white gown was turning to smile at every face in the room. "Thank you all for coming. Peter and I are about to turn in for the night. Please, enjoy your evening. Good night."

The crowd cheered as the bride and groom made their leave, Will sighing in relief. That meant she could finally go to her hotel room, shower, and pass out in her bed.

She couldn't wait.

Matthews protested loudly. "Hey! Where is everyone going? The party's just started!"

"Cool it, Matthews," Hoffman growled with warning, a hand on the guy's shoulder and a firm frown at the man's out of focused eyes. The message was clear. Hoffman wouldn't tolerate anyone ruining his little sister's event.

"Hey, Eric, let's take a walk. I know a decent bar down the street." Kerry took Eric's arm and pulled him, giving an understanding nod as she took Matthews away before he made a scene.

Will let out a breath, relieved the night ended smoothly. "I think it's time I turned in." She turned to him with a tired yawn. "Where's your room?"

The venue, commonly used to host weddings, was a hotel in the respectable historic district of the city. Thankfully, they hadn't needed to catch rides back to their apartments. Instead, they had rented rooms that were a simple elevator ride away.

"1403. You?"

"1404."

"Guess we're going in the same direction."

"Yeah." She bit her lip, withholding the drunken giggle that threatened to escape. Thankfully, a hiccup masked her sudden moment of vulnerable awkwardness and she led the way to the elevator, trying to push the sudden moody thoughts that began to tickle her. She shivered, until a very warm cloak was draped over her shoulders.

Hoffman had taken his jacket off, his bulk hugged by his shirt. Will avoided looking in his direction while they waited for the elevator to reach their level, eyes glued to the level indicator above the doors.

They stood in silence, as they often did.

But this time, she struggled to remain cool and collected.

Being drunk didn't help. Her heels were hurting her feet. She was off balance and this made her feel on edge.

She refused to question why.

She knew why.

Now that their biggest barrier, Rosello, was gone, all that remained in her keeping a distance was her desperate cling to not risk ruining what they had. Their partnership was intact and functional. They understood each other. They were friends. They had a closeness that she feared intimacy would strip away and make vulnerable.

It was all so fragile.

"Will."

"Yeah?"

"The door's open."

"Oh." She walked to the elevator, tripping on the edge of the door.

"Hey!" Hoffman caught her, saving her from face planting. "Easy."

"Shit," she cursed and angrily collapsed to the rough carpet of the elevator as the doors slid closed. She began unbuckling and taking off her heels, her toes thanking her for the release.

"Are you about to get sick on me, kid?"

"Ha!" She looked up at him defiantly. "You know I can hold my liquor."

"Then why are you on the floor," he looked down at her, smirking. "You're acting weird."

The lines on his face emphasized his cheek bones. His lips looked so kissable at that moment. She shook her head, flustered. "I'm just drunk."

"I thought you 'hold your liquor'."

"I meant I'm not going to puke. But I need to go to sleep."

"Fair enough."

The doors finally opened, Hoffman holding his hand out for her to take. She gave him her fingers and he pulled her up with ease.

Grabbing her heels, she walked towards her hotel room, digging in her clutch for her key card. She tapped her card to the door lock, waiting for it to be disengaged.

A red light indicated it had failed.

She tapped it again.

Still, nothing.

She tried to open the hotel door, tapping and muttering curses under her breath.

"Problem?"

"Yeah, the key's not working. Fucking new technology. What was wrong with the standard brass key?" She flipped her hair over her shoulder, embarrassed and frustrated. "Great. Now I'm going to have to go back to the lobby."

"No. We can call down from my room. They'll send a guy up to let you in." Hoffman opened his room door, going inside and holding it open for her to enter.

She hesitated.

"What?"

"Nothing." She had slept over at his place before. They had shared the same bed, in fact. So why was she suddenly feeling so shy? Wary?

She blamed the alcohol.

She walked across the threshold and into his room.

The bed was large, king sized. She went to the phone and dialed for the concierge, requesting to be let into her room.

"I apologize, miss, our computer system is having some technical issues and it's going to take at least an hour or two to fix."

"Are you serious?"

"I apologize. We can provide complimentary refreshments down here while you wait? Or if you remain in the room you're in, we'll happily send it up."

She looked over at Hoffman and her eyes lit up. "Fine. Please send up a bottle of champagne."

"Right away. We appreciate your understanding."

She returned the phone and let out a sigh. "Computer problem. Going to be stuck for at least an hour. So the champagne's on me."

"I knew you were good luck to keep around."

She wrinkled her nose and let out another breath. Her dress was tight around her waist and she wanted nothing more than to take it off. "Hey. You got an extra shirt?"

"Yeah. Need a shower?"

"Badly."

Hoffman went to his suitcase, digging through the clothes and tossing her an old oversized t-shirt that had been from the police academy. "Go ahead."

"Thanks." She went into the bathroom, shut the door, and ran the hot water. As the roar of the shower drowned out the sound of the TV playing outside the door, she looked herself in the mirror. Her eyeshadow had smeared. Her eyeliner was running. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and unclasped the top part of the back of her dress. When she moved to unzip, the zipper wouldn't budget.

She narrowed her eyes and tried again, with more force. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She murmured as she spent a few minutes struggling to unzip her dress.

She looked at the door, conflicted.

She could ask him to help her, but this seemed too personal.

I want us to be together.

She could simply not take a shower and remain in the dress for another hour.

But she was getting irritable with how constricted she felt.

She shook her head. She was being ridiculous.

A part of her, the small and uncertain troublemaker that poked its shy head around the corner, was eager and hopeful. Maybe this is it.

A part of her wanted what he wanted.

No one will know. Nobody saw you enter his room.

It could be their little secret.

One final tug. Just to try and get out of this moral predicament.

She pulled as hard as she could down on her zipper while gritting her teeth.

When it didn't give, she surrendered.

Her heart was exploding in her chest when she opened the bathroom door and let the build up of steam release out into the room. "Mark?"

"Yeah?" He was on the bed, sipping booze from the minibar, his bow tie and shirt long hanging on the nearby loveseat. He looked more relaxed and at home in a plain white tank. His shoes were off. He leaned back against the pillows, not looking at her while he watched a rerun of some old football game.

"Can you help me?" She pressed her lips together, flushed.

Hoffman turned, eyes slightly slanted from curiosity. His lip curled in dark humor. "With what?"

"My zipper." She held her hair up and turned her back, avoiding looking at his face. She felt his eyes, like hot flames on her skin. She heard the rustle of the bedsheets as he stood up and went to her. The sudden feeling of his knuckles and fingers touching the skin of her back made her flinch and she held back the gasp when she felt the callouses brush over her, fingers digging under the seam as he tried to pull the contraption.

"It's caught good," he whispered, voice suddenly thick like honey.

"Yep. You think I'm stuck in this?" She wondered if Angie would forgive her if she took a pair of scissors to it. She had told her to keep it.

The tide of claustrophobia came in like an icy wave.

"No. I've got it." She felt a tremor in his hands and the build up of energy as he tried to brute force the metal to give. She bit her lip, pressing her front to her chest, bracing for the zipper to finally slacken.

When she heard the sharp rip of fabric, the silence that followed was deafening.

The dress was now in tatters, shredded fabric dangling from where she held the front.

Hot, slow fingers landed on her shoulders. She felt his breath against her ear and the smell of whiskey mixed with spices made her dizzy. "I told you I got it."

"You ripped it." She didn't pull away, her heart racing as she felt his other hand feel her bare back, the tips of his fingers dragging down. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Oops." And then she felt his lips against her neck, soft and wet.

She felt a primal desire rise from her lower stomach, making her lose all rational thought as though it had been nothing more than water evaporating off her skin.

The sound of the water made her think of rain. "I should go take a shower."

"Yeah?" His voice had gone gruff and short, his hand lowering until it stopped at the waistband of her panties. He continued gently kissing the side of her neck, biting into her skin gently. He squeezed her shoulder firmly. "But you're not even dirty yet."

She bit her lip, eyes transfixed on the door and the steam that continued to billow out. Her frozen disposition made him scoff and he lifted his mouth away until she let out a soft moan of protest. She sharply inhaled when his teeth dug deeper into her, shooting jolts of pain that broke the spell. She pulled away, turning to him with fury, pushing him while touching her neck that throbbed with the harsh reminder.

"That hurt." Her stomach was doing cartwheels. Her breathing was hitched.

That cursed part of her that had remained in the background was now on the tips of its toes, now fully attentive and interested.

She was losing control.

He had let her push him back towards the bed. He sat onto it, amused, elbows on his thighs as he leaned over and leered at her. "You weren't complaining just a second ago. But I don't want this to be one sided." He reached forward, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her to him. She felt like a fish on the hook, being reeled in against her will. "I don't want you to treat me like-," He stopped, knowing better.

She was grateful, understanding him. She wanted him to continue and all it would take is one word. One sign that what she was feeling was real.

Despite the familiar voices warning that this would complicate things, that creature that was taking over, growing and demanding, was slamming the door on all common sense.

"I want this, Mark." She let go of the front of the dress, allowing her breasts to be exposed. His eyes wandered, hungrily, and she felt as if she was back to being college-aged and inexperienced.

He had suddenly become savage as he tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her quickly to him. She stopped at the edge of the bed, between his legs, her hands catching herself against him, pressed against his full chest. She could see the five o'clock shadow on his chin. His lashes, brown wings around a blue sky. She missed the feeling of his mouth. She needed to taste him.

She decided to finally give in. She dived off the deep end and landed in his sea.

She kissed him first, hungry and willing. She let go of the fabric to her chest, opting to wrap her arms around his neck as she felt him grab a fistful of her hair to steer her head and push his tongue past her lips.

She gasped when he spun her around and had her pinned to the bed, pulling from her lips to nip at the nape of her neck. She felt his hands grope and search her as he devoured every inch of her.

It felt wholly familiar, as if returning to a long forgotten house that she once lived in for years.

He undid his pants, revealing a bulge pressed against his boxers. Grabbing the remaining portions of her dress that still covered her hips, he pulled them off with an almost mad energy, a man in lust and control.

She sat up, leaning against her elbows, as he returned to kiss her. She noticed she felt clumsy and sloppy, another layer of inebriation making her miss his mouth and instead plant her tongue onto his collar. She tasted salt and soap, her hand lightly raking over his stomach as he let out a soft growl of gratification. The healing scars from the gunshots were still raw and red, breaking through the heat like an ice bath for a split second. She kissed them delicately, not wanting to bring him any more pain but to thank him for his sacrifice to her.

He had saved her life.

She let her other hand explore down to his boxers, feeling him thick and hard through the cotton.

"Fuck, Will," he was squeezing her shoulder, his grip firm but not overpowering.

She pulled the elastic of his waistband, seeing for the first time him in his full glory, and wanted to reward him with wonders that would keep him up at night from then on with heated nostalgia. He tasted of sweat, his girth burning as she took him in her mouth.

His breathing was ragged as Will moved her head back and forth, feeling him slide past her lips and over her tongue, a surge of triumph at every baritone grunt being forced out of his chest like the strike of a flint over her fuel.

She pulled back, taking his pillar in her hand, to a protested whine from him. "I love how hard you feel in my mouth, Mark."

He was panting over her as they shimmied further onto the bed, new lovers with lumbering urgency. "I don't have a condom."

"I'm on birth control. It's fine," her breathing was ragged as well, her legs splayed apart as she felt his firmness press against her and driving her insane. "Please, Mark. I need you."

He plunged inside of her, his eyes shut tight at savoring the feeling. She arched her back, feeling him fill her to the hilt. Despite how wet and wild she was, the sharpness of being stretched from many months of lone nights brought shockwaves through her spine and she found her nails digging into his back as he gently moved inside her with clenched jaw and restraint. He enveloped her with thankful kisses and increased his speed.

He began pacing his thrusts, the wet smacking sound of their connection adding a teasing tingle through her anatomy and she tossed her head back to cry out in delight.

This encouraged him to speed up, the feeling of his sweat an additional aphrodisiac as he roughly pushed into her with unhinged power.

She was building up, about to be overcome, and she whimpered, "I'm so close. Don't stop." He ran his thumb over her nub, drawing circles around her clitoris while he slowed down his thrusts and watched her closely. The feeling was too powerful and she had to shut her eyes and simply allow the sensations to shoot through her bones and sing. She felt her limbs jerk like a marionette, Mark pulling the strings with each touch and probe. The growing heat and pressure rose from her groin and up to her crown and then the wave of ecstasy took all the intensity and turned it to sugar in her veins.

Her sudden change in pitch had been his indication to finish, returning to thrusting into her with accelerating pace until he took one final plunge and let out a satisfied bellow as he finished inside of her. He collapsed on top of her, the two of them breathing heavily as a warmth spread inside and down her thighs.

"You…" Hoffman spoke in between pants, voice thick and slow. "...okay?"

She laughed. "I'm great." She kissed the side of his cheek.

The phone on the nightstand began to ring.

A/N: I love how happy-ending this feels. But that means it's going to be so sad when it all falls apart.

To those who want some more dark/depraved kinky shit, fret not. Hoffman's descent into darkness will make things spicier. Promise. But for now, I think he's still at that rainbow and unicorn vanilla stage in his life.

Feels like I'm not exploring more in depth about Matthews. Next story arc that's coming up, I hope to go into more detail. (It involves the K2K gang Sing and Tapp had solved right before the events of SAW). I also want to dive deeper into how Matthews framed all the Saw 2 victims, Amanda's origin, and introduce Gordon. That means one more pre-saw story arc before we finally dive into the real lore.

I'm concerned about writing a boring play-by-play, so I want to minimize writing scenes that actually happened in the movies. Instead, I want to fill in the gaps. Try to make sense of that convoluted plot where everything's connected (and Hoffman was there at the very beginning).

To all who have made it this far, thank you for reading. This story is purely self-indulgent but if anyone else enjoys it that makes me happy.