Chapter 31: Perspective

A/N: Hello my lovelies! I think this is a very humorous and relatable chapter, some of which is based on my own experience since my alcohol tolerance is pathetically low. I wanted to hurry and update this since I'll be going on a week-long vacation out of the country in a few days. Please know that I am still working like a snail to get the new chapter of In My Dreams done. But also I wanted to start working on the next chapter of Amaranthine since Bleach is now back. Enjoy!


An unpleasant heaviness in your throat was what ultimately woke you up - your mouth unbearably dry. That combined with the dizzying sensation of nausea, it felt like your brain was being compressed. The pressure in your ears encouraged a headache of massive proportions and it was quite literally the worst thing you've ever felt. The heaviness of your body seemed to indicate that you hardly slept at all.

Groaning, you willed your body to turn towards the other source of the heat near your back. The uncomfortable bloating in your abdomen made it difficult to maneuver. The sight of your lover greeted you - John was asleep beside you deep in the midst of sleep. He lay on his stomach, arms hidden under the pillow. Long dark tresses were tousled over the soft head cushion, defined sooty lashes lay against his cheekbones.

How you both managed to make it to the bed, you'll never know.

Your stomach lurched unexpectedly and a series of small burps quickly turned into full on gags. That's when you felt it - acidic bile rushing its way up your throat. You jackknifed up, a hand shooting up to your general sense of feeling like you were going to throw up should've been a good enough sign of what was to come.

As fast as you could manage, you ambled towards the bathroom, flinching at the intolerable pain in your backside.

Severe abdominal pain had you stumbling into the bathroom, dropping down in front of the toilet, the digestive unrest too much to handle. The first few waves were always the worst, it left your stomach clenching and your esophagus burning.

The vomit left your throat with unnecessary force and it honestly scared you more than you were willing to admit. You barely got a second to breathe in between. Your body was trying to force it out faster than your body could manage. You gave another painful heave into the bowl.

It was apparent that the champagne and three course meals obviously didn't sit well inside your body.

The aches in your lower body were different in comparison to the rest of your body.

The glasses of champagne tasted exquisite from last night but know you regretted ever drinking any of it. At the time, you weren't expecting to deal with the painful after effects the morning after. How had you forgotten such a hellish feeling so quickly? It had been a long time since you'd been this hungover and you should've known better than to do a repeat. You wish you could go back in time to a point where you made the poor decision to pick up a glass and do the exact opposite of what you did that landed you where you are. To be fair, you haven't been that good at making the best decisions lately.

As a consequence of your stomach painfully cramping, it made the vomit practically shoot up your esophagus. You essentially dumped the entire contents of your stomach into the toilet. You're surprised that your intestines didn't come out as well. Had you not been hunched over, it could've been classified as projectile vomiting with how forcefully it was being expelled from your mouth. All you could do was dry heave and amidst the pained throbbing in your skull, panting like a wounded animal desperate to get any air in your lungs.

Some of it had gotten on the seat, as you weren't the best with your aim. The smell of it was enough to make you even more sick than you already were.

A warm hand finds itself at your lower back. You didn't even hear him approaching and you certainly hadn't meant to wake him up. It wasn't hard to believe that he'd been awoken by your pitiful retching.

You hovered over the toilet for long moments after the vomiting finally stopped for fear it would start all over again.

The hand disappeared for only a second when you hear the taps running.

All of the delicious meals you ate last night were gone, a colorful mess floating in the porcelain bowl. It hurt that you didn't even get a good chance to fully digest it. How disappointing.

A shower was the reasonable thing to do in your situation but your balance was far too unreliable. Even now, you swayed while huddled over the toilet.

Leaning away a reasonable distance, you're hit with the worst morning sickness just by moving your head a fraction. Queasy, you braced a hand on the cabinet nearby to steady yourself.

Your loose braids are then swept away and a lukewarm cloth is wiped across your face. The process is gentle and unrushed. You know that you probably looked like death three times over, a naked crumpled mess on the tiled floor. Not to mention that your seemingly empty stomach is still cramping.

You closed your eyes at the soft contact, it's undeniably what you needed at the moment.

"I need to brush this taste out of my mouth…but I can't stand up." You croak.

After John deposits the towel on the counter, he promptly assists you into a standing position in front of the sink. Taking a moment to steady yourself, you reached for your toothbrush. You avoided looking at yourself in the mirror. By doing that you could easily skirt any embarrassment you might feel about your haggard appearance. The way you felt overshadowed everything else.

Brushing your teeth required minimal effort. You brushed as gently and meticulously as you could, somewhat surprised that that taste of the toothpaste didn't automatically make you sick. Honestly, you were terrified of the toothbrush going to the back too far and triggering another episode.

Now you were beyond exhausted.

That familiar heat from your paramour's body enveloped you once more and you're lifted into his arms thereafter and brought back into the bedroom. Laying your head on his shoulder, you breathed him in deeply, his scent comforting you amidst the unpleasant turmoil you had just experienced. He carried you back to the bed, laying you on your side and pulling the covers over your frame.

You desperately needed a shower but all you wanted to do was lay in bed and sleep everything you were feeling off.

"It's half past twelve, we've slept in." He said, levely.

"Mmm." You moaned.

You almost forgot that he was an early riser, while you on the other hand were not.

Frankly, you're baffled at how he could move around with no issue like he hadn't been throwing drinks back with you last night. Yet, the man wasn't puking his guts out like you had. Just what kind of iron digestive track did he have?

Other than looking slightly more disheveled than usual, John appeared just fine. Unlike you, John had the decorum to slip on some pajama pants and not walk around naked.

"I assume you don't want breakfast?" He probed, his voice a little more deeper than usual.

You groaned miserably. "No. I don't want to eat anything ever."

"Eventually, you'll have to eat. Your stomach cannot remain empty." He reasoned, moving to stand at the window, opening the blinds to reveal searing sunlight.

"No!" You answered like a petulant child, throwing the sheets over your head. "Close it back!"

That demanding request was granted and the room was once again engulfed in dim lighting.

"I think I'm dying." You miserably lamented.

"You're not."

"Why did you let me drink so much?"

John approached the bed, coming to stand over you. "You were not opposed to it at the time."

"You wanted this to happen…so you could do me up the butt."

Dark brows rose. "And what makes you think I need alcohol to do that?"

When his footsteps begin to fade in the distance, you slowly begin to turn the other direction despite not wanting to move. Meanwhile, you're doing your best to fight off the tremors. You weren't cold, your body was just trying to shake itself free from the aches.

As far as you're concerned, you will never touch another bottle of alcohol in your life.

All you wanted was to fall back asleep and wake up like your night of drinking didn't happen.

Eventually, fatigue became too great of a sensation for you to fight and your body grew heavier. Aside from a painkiller, sleep was the next best remedy.


From the first time you fell asleep, your sleep-wake cycle was mostly fragmented. More often than not, you found yourself slipping in and out of sleep constantly. If you woke it was only for a few moments before your eyes slid closed again.

The dreams had absolutely no bearing on reality but they still left you wondering. Most of them didn't make a lick of sense. If you had to compare them to something, they closely resembled wildly vivid figments of your imagination.

One dream in particular consisted of you being stranded at sea floating on a piece of debris with no boat or land in sight for miles. Another consisted of you graduating college and instead of acquiring a job in your chosen career field, you were given a lifetime supply of cookies which you were oddly satisfied with. One of the more batty and memorable dreams was you being a free range chicken trying to escape a chicken farm with the others. You were almost certain it mirrored the exact plot of 'Chicken Run' one of the many comfort films you watched as a child.

A soft caress of the cheek is what ultimately wakes you up again. You blink rapidly, bleary-eyed and drowsy. John is fully clothed and sitting at the bedside, studying you intently. His long, dark hair is now moderately tamed.

A shame really. You sort of liked it wild and in disarray.

At the very least, you weren't sensitive to the sunlight anymore and that was something to be grateful for.

Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you attempted to sit up. "What time is it?"You softly murmured.

"After four."

As you sat up, your headache had hardly lessened but through the haze you noticed that he was holding a cup of steaming liquid, the contents of which you had no idea.

"Drink this." He says handing it over and looking at you expectantly

While it sucked being infinitely thirsty, you were fearful of drinking anything because you couldn't handle another exhausting vomiting episode. And with your stomach practically touching your back, you didn't seem like a good idea.

"What is this?" You questioned.

"A drink that will help alleviate the symptoms."

"It smells funny." You uttered confusingly.

"Finish it."

Skeptical, you took a small sip of the beverage and immediately recoiled. "It's nasty."

He tilted his head curiously at you. "You have to drink it."

"I don't want it." You insist.

"Do you want to feel better?" He calmly inquired.

"Well yeah."

"Then drink."

You sighed in defeat, pinching your nose to finish the rest of it off.

"Come. You need to shower and eat."

This time, your stomach began to cramp out of hunger and you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep it off either. You had to get some food in your system whether you wanted to or not.

Climbing from the bed, you slowly stretched, hearing your joints pop. You're too tired to comment on the man practically following you into the bathroom.

"I don't need help. I got it." You tell him.

He nods once and shuts the door behind him.

Switching on the taps, you watched as streaming water streams from the showerhead. There's immediate satisfaction as you step in and the searing heat begins to pour over you.

The hot water felt good soothing all your aching muscles and you released a small breath of satisfaction. Truthfully, you prefer a bath to a shower, that way you can actually sit in the water and not overextend yourself. While you didn't feel like you were back to your normal self, you're just grateful that you're well enough to walk around.

The showers lasted a little longer than you intended and when you finally step out the entire bathroom is full of vapor. Grabbing a towel and coming to stand in front of the mirror, you raise a hand and start to wipe at the mirror. That's when you saw it - the bite mark at the crest of your neck - the indent of teeth clearly present. A testament of the night's events.

Careful not to aggravate it as you dry off, you change into comfortable clothing - a sweater, a pair of shorts and lastly some thick socks. After wrestling your braids into a messy bun, you then began to venture out of the bedroom and that's when the thick aroma of food tickled your nose. Going by the smell in the air, something was definitely being cooked. The smell was strong enough to lead you out of the bathroom.

As you walked into the room, you easily spotted your lover standing at the stove. Turning his head in your direction, John inspected you for any indication of physical distress. Having found none, he went back to stirring a steaming pot on the stove. He didn't look like he felt as horrible as you did but you could be wrong.

One thing was for certain thought, you're not the least bit surprised that he took the initiative to prepare something for you to eat.

Coffee isn't a beverage you'd usually favor but it's the perfect energy boost to keep you awake and productive. The complex taste prompted you to add at least three teaspoons of sugar into it to compensate. There's still some lingering unpleasantness in your stomach that you chalked up to an empty stomach.

"I don't think I've ever seen you hungover."

Pulling back a chair, you slowly lowered yourself onto the seat, trying not to grimace at the faint soreness you felt. Any sort of pressure seemed to aggravate the muscles of your abused pucker. Admittedly, the pain wasn't as intense as the first time you engaged in anal sex but it still carried that unpleasant discomfort you weren't use to. Obviously there would come a time when you fully got used to it but now was certainly not that time.

"You've been moving around a lot. Quick recovery time?"

"Is that how it appears? Feels quite the opposite."

"How do you not feel like a zombie?"

"Force of will I suppose."

You could barely stand the smell of it, let alone be able to consume it at this point in time. Another problem was that the color and consistency of the soup reminded you of vomit.

John in turn gave you a stern look, his brows drawing down in what you believed to be disapproval. He had always been very adamant about you staying in good health.

"I'll eat some of it later."

You nibbled the crackers one at a time, delighted that they abated the gnawing hunger.

"It's New Year's tomorrow."

"I'm aware."

"I want to do something…I just don't know what."

You cannot deny that there's some underlying, unspoken tension between the two of you. The tension itself wasn't innately sexual in nature but something more conflicting. You're certain it had to do with the events of last night. You can't help but wonder how he felt about what had transpired. If you hadn't forgotten, you know that he hadn't either. It was strange to see his normal indifference replaced by anything remotely resembling worry.

He was naturally guarded for good reason so you couldn't fault him in those aspects. For some time, you suspected he had a predilection for rough sexual proclivties as some men typically do. There's nothing wrong with it. Some men expressed interest in that kind of sex. You and John were both consenting adults with a healthy intimate relationship who occasionally explored new things.

Why did it feel like you both were somewhat reluctant to breach the subject and talk about it?

Probably because you were.

While John didn't seem to be avoiding the issue per say, he just didn't bring it up at all. If it was up to him, he may not talk about it at all. You on the other hand would not avoid the preverbal elephant in the room. You decided to get straight to the point.

Your thumb absently circled the lip of the cup as you peered up at him from under your lashes.

"So…about last night. What was that?" You asked hesitantly.

John stopped stirring at once, shifting to gaze calmly at your somewhat composed visage. "I apologize. There was a lapse in judgment. In control."

You think you know where it stemmed from. You saw how he looked at you when you told him that you were hurting. You were starting to read him as accurately as he read you. You both had an understanding. Even now, he seemed genuinely concerned that he may have harmed you and that simply wasn't true. You know full well that he would never intentionally harm you and it felt wrong for him to even insinuate it.

"No…no it's okay. I liked it." You stammered. "Things just got really intense in the heat of the moment, that's all."

"I mean…I thought you would've gone a little easier on me because it was only my second time but…" You uttered.

Last night was something deeper than a simple meeting of bodies - it melded both pleasure and pain togther in one erotic and sensual fashion. It was almost frightening to see the normal reserved, serene man take his pleasure from you so brutally. The way his hips slammed into you made you feel vulnerable and hot. It brought you to literal tears from the sheer rapture it elicited. In that moment, you merely served as a lusty outlet for his dark hunger. Residual arousal shot through you at the memory.

Due to the intoxication, it just so happened that it wasn't discussed beforehand. After having been sexually intimate for months, you're shocked that these 'desires' didn't show up earlier. You can't believe it took him getting drunk for it to come out. The sheer recollection set your cheeks ablaze.

To put it simply, you absolutely loved it.

The way he tossed you was something you could never forget. In your mind, you started to relive brief glimpses of the fervent session between you and him the previous night. The power dynamics between the two of you were unquestionably established in that instance if they weren't already. It can't be ignored that you spent the better part of the night bent over the couch letting the man passionately wreck you. At one point, he had his whole face in your ass. Now you know what alcohol will make a man do.

If only you had caught a glimpse of his face.

With this you promptly stood from the table, ignoring the slight pain from doing so, your hands coming up to hold his face.

"John. You could never hurt me." You assured him with an endearing expression. "Never."

Wordlessly, he accepted your softly spoken sentiment and then soft lips then pressed to yours languorously. Leaning back, the man brushed a calloused thumb over your cheek and your heart fluttered at the gesture, softness and genuine concern shone deeply in his steady gaze. A transient smile swept across your face as you gazed into the serene mien of your significant other.

Naturally, he had to ruin the moment by saying, "Now…eat your soup."


After some time spent quietly convening in the kitchen, the two of you went to lounge on the sofa within the living room space. A lot could be said about your current position, laid across the man's lap, stretched out on your front like a lazy cat. Draping yourself over him was the most comfortable position you could possibly manage. You inhaled and exhaled in steady breaths. At this point, you've given up pretending that you're not addicted to his scent.

John's hand roved over your feminine curves, notably the two round globes of your rear, gently kneading and massaging the flesh. The stretchy material of your shorts clung to your posterior comfortably and you exhaled at the contact.

Every now then your pucker would tense up and a lone finger would dip into the crevice and make circular soothing motions until the muscles there relaxed. Before now, you never thought such a thing could feel nice but you were never happier to be proven wrong. While the sensual petting encouraged arousal, for obvious reasons you decided to put aside those invasive feelings and thoughts for some much needed leisure time. In any event, you weren't in the position to be indulging in any sexual proclivites so soon.

Honestly, you don't know what you're going to do when you go back home to New York. The entire vacation had been like a dream you didn't want to wake up from. You enjoyed this time away with him and away from the atmosphere back home.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"Milaya?"

"Yes?"

"There's a matter I want to speak with you about."

At the weightiness of his tone, you sat up immediately. "Okay."

"From the time I met you, I've come to realize that my life would no longer be the same as it once was. The time spent with you has given me a great deal to think about my life."

Brown eyes arrested yours in a meaningful look.

"I am heavily considering retirement. I have wanted to do so for quite some time now."

Hearing that came as a great shock to you. To put it mildly, you were at a total loss for words.

Breaking the purposeful silence responded in a stunned whisper. "But why?"

He tilted his head thoughtfully at you."What's stopping me?"

Your pulse stuttered upon hearing that. Those words were an exact mirror of your own days prior, evidently he'd taken them to heart. In all honesty, you should've known that the man would never appear dismissive as you spoke of your own thoughts and feelings. But you weren't expecting this.

If he'd retired from the life of a contract killer once before then what ultimately made him return to it? To a life he'd previously left behind.

By the look in his eyes, you could tell he'd been thinking of it for a while and only recently decided to bring it to your attention. For a long time, you suspected that he didn't like what he did for a living. Truth be told, you weren't even aware that retirement was an option in his profession - his occupation was not like any other.

By his own admission, John was clearly ready to transition into another stage of his life. His retirement could mean a great many things - some of which probably weren't privy to you. Which didn't necessarily mean it was a negative thing.

What exactly came after retirement? More specifically, what did it mean for the already unconventional relationship between you both? It went without saying that the emotional ramifications were crucial as retirement was a major life adjustment.

The financial aspects weren't important. Money had never been an issue for him the entire time you'd known him so you're sure he can go his whole life without taking another job.

Given the topic of conversation, you and him had a number of factors to consider. First and foremost, something like that wasn't an easy transition. He would essentially be adapting to a new lifestyle; one by his own standards was considered to be normal. Not only that but he may have to create a new identity in certain aspects. With this huge change both of your lives were set to drastically shift.

From the way he spoke, John seemed resolute in his decision and you owed it to him to be empathetic. Naturally, you cared about his life affairs dearly and he yours. Alternatively, open communication was needed for the subject matter and clearly he wanted your opinion, your point of view.

"Are you…nervous about it?" It was almost an oxymoron to use the word 'nervous' to describe John. Especially considering that his face remained as impassive and immovable as stone.

John's emotions were not nearly as transparent as yours. For him to inform and confide in you about an important life decision of this magnitude made you feel incredibly special.

Given the fact that, you're way too young to be thinking about a retirement plan especially when you don't even have an established career .Retirement was obviously a vital phase of a person's life and it ultimately came down to facing reality. John is a human who gets paid obscene amounts of money to take the lives of other humans. For that reason alone, the relationship was marred in obscurity from the start. As you would come to find out, it was mainly the reason for his reluctance concerning being seen out in public with you.

Those in the criminal underworld did not need to know he had an attachment to a normal civilian. At first you hadn't understood but knowing what you know now - it all made sense. All that time spent denying you was entirely for your own safety.

But why? Why now of all times did he choose to withdraw from the life of a hitman? Why not do it months ago? The timing was surely a differentiating factor.

Looking like a dazed rabbit in the face of danger, you sat in shocked silence as your lover continued to speak.

"After years of service, I desire a quiet, peaceful life. There are a few unfulfilled contracts I must complete and then I plan to retire permanently with no plans of returning."

Despite parting your lips to speak, you couldn't summon the words to convey what you were feeling.

Fundamentally, you understand the sentiment and profound nature behind it. You found his honesty and straightforwardness about it endearing. If you had any doubts before you knew right then and there that he wasn't joking. Given the seriousness in his voice it sounded like it was truly what he wanted after all. Aside from the astronomical pay grade, you can see how a sort of life can be difficult to live and have an overall effect on a person.

Then came the issue of separation because of his work - John would no longer be required to depart for long days at a time to complete a contract.

"There's usually a price to pay beforehand." He articulated.

Waiting patiently for him to explain what he meant, your shocked, questioning eyes met his calm ones. "What do you mean?"

"Retiring from a business such as this is simply…unheard of. One can't just retire as they please. However, in my experience, if done successfully - it is entirely possible."

Being open and honest wasn't always easy. For some men, it was very hard to confide in another person. Despite how close you and him had become, with John being the closed-off, reserved individual you'd come to know him as - you didn't think he'd confide in you about something this significant.

Your heart seized once before it resumed beating normally. Frankly, you didn't know what else to say so you merely nodded your understanding.

When a person has had enough of a thing, that's usually all it takes. You can't count how many times Alexis and Jasmine quit jobs and never thought anything of it. With John unequivocally being the type to not do something he didn't want to, he'd likely gotten his fill of the lifestyle and wanted out. For that you respected him. Although you had no idea how it works, you highly doubted he had a two week notice to submit.

"The life of a hitman is murky and uncertain." He spoke in a very disquieted, detached fashion.

Of course it was. You knew that when he came in your job blasting and you got kidnapped out of nowhere.

A few weighted moments passed before you could relay your thoughts.

"Let's say you go through with it? What then?"You gave him a slow comprehending look. "Have you thought about what you're going to do afterwards?"

"I have. I simply wish to live a normal life…with you. Unimpeded." He confessed. "If I want to properly form a life with you…I can't remain engulfed in that lifestyle as it places you in mortal danger."

A whirlwind of emotions swirled inside your chest. Those reflective eyes were irrefutably the most expressive facet about him. While the man's handsome features may remain placid but it's his eyes that always tell a different story. Only a man who truly loved and cared for their partner would make such a radical change - it was further confirmation that you meant that much to him.

In spite of what most might think, John was not without emotion, in fact you think he has some very complex emotions that he deliberately keeps hidden.

Throughout it all, you didn't even realize you had zoned out completely and was staring into his face like a lovestruck, doe eyed idiot. John was staring at you intently, his brows furrowed in confusion.

A constant, excited hum thrummed throughout your body. The best way you could describe it was that you felt like an angel soaring the recess of heaven. This man…he considered you in everything he did. To you, his actions seemed like they were done out of love without him having to say the words.

The stupor you'd unknowingly fallen into fell away when the outside awareness suddenly returned.

Meeting his gaze, you took his hand in yours. It was important to you that he knows you'll stick beside him no matter what he does. Throughout it all, you would continue to offer all the love and support he needed.

"I can't be everywhere, I won't always have my eyes on you. I cannot restrict you from living your life." He spoke with a strong ardent staunchness.

You enveloped him in a hug, pressing his head to your chest. Leaning back, you pressed your forehead to his. "John. Whatever you decide to do with your life…I support. I'll be right here beside you."

"You're such a softie sometimes I forget that you're a trained killer."

Your lover bent his head flippantly. "Softie? Is that the name you truly wish to refer to me as?"

"Yeah, what else would I call you?"

Defined brows went up in a knowing manner and it took you a minute to figure out he was implying. In that moment, a certain flashback from the previous night began to play in the scattered depths of your mind - one heated memory that showed you calling him 'daddy' in the height of debilitating ecstasy. Immediately, you know what he's referring to and all the blood seemed to drain from your face. Clearly, the man hadn't forgotten it and he had no problem letting you know.

The choice of words that flew out of your mouth at the time were not under your control.

"It just slipped out."

"Is that so?"

"Yes! I don't need you teasing me about it either."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

If your face burned any hotter, you're sure you would have spontaneously combusted on the spot from the embarrassment.

"Yes! You literally are. You know what, just forget it ever happened."

He scoffed quietly.

"I'm serious. Scrap it completely from your memory." You folded your arms stubbornly.

"That will be difficult since I have a particularly good memory." He countered.

"Don't make me strangle you." You warned, raising your chin defiantly.

One firm hand unexpectedly comes up to wrap around a good portion of your neck. "Like this?"

The move was passively aggressive and domineering and it had you relaxing in his hold instantly. Your submission spoke volumes about the balance of power in the relationship. It was staggering to think that your body had already begun to accept his lustful ministrations no matter the way in which they were conveyed.

"Yes…like that." You breathlessly confirmed.

He slowly leaned in for a kiss that began as chaste but quickly turned into one of the sloppiest kisses he'd ever given you.

He pulled away from you silently noting the dazed look in your eyes. If he kept at it, you and him would be back going at it in no time. And you couldn't handle that right now.

"Did you know there's a pond out back?" You said, changing the subject quite swiftly.

"I'm aware."

"Will you teach me how to fish?"

He seemed surprised at the request.

"Why the sudden interest?"

"I don't know. My dad does fishing occasionally and deep down I always wanted to learn. I just never got the chance."

"We'll need supplies and equipment from town."

"Thank you."

A beat of silence passed between the two of you.

"Hey John."

"Yes?"

"My butt still hurts."


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