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feetreadyheartbeatsteady · 30 days ago

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Dualalong on commented on Only Temporary Chapter 14 on ao3 said they would “would die for an Xaden POV of this chapter!”

And so I decided to oblige today! It’s a little quick and dirty (read: sorry if there are typos and repetitive words) but here you go… 😏

Only Temporary Chapter 14 - Xaden POV after the jump.

I’m pretty sure Violet Sorrengail is actively trying to ruin me—and she looks so good doing it that I’m seriously considering just letting her.

After I’d been a little delirious and a little too frayed at the edges to hold it together the afternoon following the Barlowe verdict—after my sorry ass straight up told her how badly I wanted her—I swear she’s been trying extra hard to look good. The dresses, the lace. Fuck— last Friday when she walked in wearing a black leather skirt, I think I almost choked.

I’m not sure why she feels the need to. There hasn’t been a single instance that I’ve seen her and not wanted her. But maybe, like me, she’s anxious for us to connect before she leaves. For something to happen that will make sure we stay in touch and see each other again.

And today, on her last day at AMV, she's wearing all black again and she’s got her hair down and I can’t help but think my downfall is imminent.

I spend the day alternating between checking to see that she hasn’t disappeared and trying to decide exactly how I ask for her number. And a little before 5 PM, when she walks into my office, I know I have to do or say something.

“I’m heading out,” she says, voice light but guarded. “Liam, Rhiannon and Sawyer are taking me out for goodbye drinks. Want to join us?”

God, yes.

But I can’t. I don’t go out with anyone from the firm but Garrick, and I’m not going to start now, not when I’m desperate to kiss Violet before she’s gone forever.

“I can’t,” I say, too quickly. Her face flickers, just slightly, and the crack it leaves in my chest is a little too familiar.

“Of course.” Her disappointment is visible—it’s right there in the way she’s standing, in the tone of her voice. I hate it. I hate that I put it there.

“But,” I say, reaching for my phone, “give me your number. I’ll Venmo you for a round of thank you drinks, on me.”

She raises an eyebrow at me. “Is that your way of finally asking me for my number?”

I meet her eyes, and I offer a smile that matches hers. “Officially? No.”

“And unofficially?” She asks. Her hazel and blue eyes are dancing with mischief, with a bit of an invitation, and fuck, I want more than anything to take it.

I hand her the phone, watch her type in her number. She gives it back to me and I save it.

“I wouldn’t hate it if we stay in touch,” I say as I send her a Venmo. Understatement of the fucking century.

“I’ve been thinking about going to visit my cousin in a few weeks,” I tell her. “Maybe we can finally get that dinner?”

Her smile wavers, and my stomach twists before she even says the words.

“I’ll be in Berkeley.”

I blink. “Wasn’t it LA? I swear I’m not that bad of a listener.”

“It was LA. It’s Berkeley now.” A second passes before she explains further. “I just found out a few days ago that I got into a writing fellowship there that starts in January.”

Berkeley. That’s a flight. That’s hours and hundreds of dollars of travel. That’s not something casual.

And even though I already know I’d get on that flight in a heartbeat if she asked, she’s not asking.

I nod slowly, forcing the words out. “Congratulations. That’s great.”

She talks about how she didn’t think she’d get in, how it’s a year-long fellowship and how excited she is. And I want to listen— to be happy for her. But my brain is still scrambling to catch up to the news, to formulate another excuse to see her again after today.

“Of course you got in,” I say. And my brain hasn’t come up with anything better to say, so I just go with a sliver of honesty. “And we’ll miss you. I’ll miss you—”

But my eyes fall to the collar of her shirt, afraid to look into her eyes and see anything other than reciprocation in them. I notice the stitching—the texture of the collar.

The realization hits me like a freight train. I don’t even try to hide the disbelief in my voice.

“Is that my shirt?”

She looks down at it like she’s trying to figure out what to say—how to explain. “This?” she asks, stalling for a moment. “Yeah, it is.”

“Fuck, Violet,” I mutter, eyes falling shut as I let out a low breath. This woman. There’s no way I’m getting out of this without revealing that I’m completely at her mercy. I open my eyes again, pinning her in place with my stare. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she says, all wide eyes and hesitance.

Like she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Like she hasn’t spent all week slowly, methodically, destroying every ounce of restraint I have left.

“Don’t,” I say, voice sharp with the frustration I’ve kept buried for too long. “Don’t pretend you’re not doing this on purpose. I’ve been trying to do the honorable thing here as your boss, but you’ve been driving me insane.”

Her smile falters. “I just wanted you to remember me as the girl you met—the one you wanted, before I became your boring assistant.”

The vulnerability in her voice carves at my insides.

“Violet,” I say, stepping forward, backing her toward my desk, “do you really think I need a reminder of how perfect you looked naked in my bed? Of how good it feels to sink inside you? Of the sounds you make when you’re losing control?”

“The memories haunt me,” I say, bracing my hands on the desk, caging her in. “You haunt me. I can barely think about anything else.”

She’s stopped breathing, standing completely still.

“But you work for me,” I say softly. I think about how Varrish abuses his position of power, and how I had no intention of ever even remotely doing something that could be seen as exploiting the situation. “I can’t take advantage of that. I’m not going to be that guy.”

“I don’t work for you any more,” she says quietly, and it sounds like a plea. “And it’s not taking advantage if I’m telling you that I want you.”

I bring my hand to her knee, just barely brushing the inside of it. She shivers under my touch and it sends a twin sensation through me. Her hand moves to my chest and slides upward, her lips parting like she’s about to say something—but she doesn’t. She doesn’t need to.

“Tell me to stop,” I whisper, my voice tight. “I need you to say it—”

“Don’t you dare stop.”

That’s all I need for my fraying restraint to fall apart completely.

I slip my fingers under the seam of her underwear, and fuck—she’s impossibly wet. I inhale sharply as I run them along her, feeling how wet she is for me. It’s maddening. And when she gasps and arches against me, I straight up lose my mind.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” I rasp, because I need her to know what she’s doing to me. I move slowly—agonizingly slowly—up and down, circling just near her clit but not touching it. Her whimper damn near kills me.

She presses her forehead into my shoulder and moans my name. “Xaden.”

The sound of her begging for me—it’s everything.

I slide two fingers inside her and press my thumb firmly over her clit, rubbing in tight, deliberate circles. Her body clenches around me and her moan is soft, desperate, devastating.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur. And I do. God help me, I always will.

She comes undone in seconds—legs trembling, nails biting into my forearm as she comes around my fingers. I press a kiss to her temple, her skin damp and warm beneath my lips.

“Fuck,” I breathe, my lips brushing her hairline. “I will never get over the sounds you make.”

She’s already reaching for me, her hands moving to my belt with urgency. I groan when she touches me—too hard, too fast—and I grab her wrists before I lose control completely. No one is here, but I need to move us to somewhere hidden from the hallway just in case.

I lift her effortlessly, set her on the far end of the desk where we won’t be seen. Her knees hook around my hips as I draw in closer to her.

And when I kiss her, I give it everything in me— and she matches my hunger with a fire all her own. I fumble for my wallet in the desk drawer, pull out a condom, toss the rest aside. She’s watching me, eyes glassy with lust. I undo my belt and zipper, one hand already pushing her skirt up higher.

“Are you sure?” I ask, pausing just enough to give her a chance to walk away.

She cups my jaw. “I told you. I want you, Xaden.”

Fuck.

I kiss her again, and it’s a little messier this time, both of us frantic for contact. I roll on the condom and position myself, guiding myself to her entrance.

“Come here,” I murmur, and she lets me pull her closer.

Then I’m inside her.

And everything else disappears.

She’s tight and warm and—god, it’s perfect. I thrust again, deeper, and her moaning just does something to me. I hold her hips steady as I move, trying to make it last—but I’m already on the edge.

“Jesus, Violet,” I manage, my voice barely audible. “You feel…”

She tightens her legs around my waist, pulling me in deeper. Her nails dig into my shoulders and my hand slides into her hair as I start to move faster, harder, chasing the feeling I’ve been trying to forget for months. She gasps my name again, and I feel her walls flutter around me. That tight, desperate clench sends me over.

She comes apart in my arms, her body trembling with pleasure. I follow a moment later, groaning into her neck as I empty into the condom, clinging to her.

We stay like that for a few long moments—breathing hard, not speaking.

My forehead rests against hers. Her hands are still around my neck. She smells so good, so much like a perfect memory.

“That was one hell of a goodbye,” she murmurs into my chest, light and a little too casual. “I really needed to get that out of my system.”

My stomach drops.

I’m such an idiot. Of course she doesn’t want anything more than this—anything more complicated. She has big plans, and they don’t involve me.

But it still stings to be reduced to something to cross off before her flight.

Get Xaden out of my system. Check.

My jaw tightens. I look down, buttoning my pants slowly, methodically—trying not to let it show that I’m completely gutted by what she’s just said.

“Well,” I say, voice clipped, “glad I could be of service.”

It comes out more bitter than I had hoped it would, but fuck it. I’m not strong enough right now to pretend I’m not affected.

She flinches, eyes darting to mine, mouth parting like she wants to take it back. “That’s not what I meant—” she starts, voice shaky.

I don’t want to hear it.

She stands and adjusts her skirt, looking at me with a trace of panic in her expression—still so goddamn beautiful I want to scream.

“I can’t—” she says again, faltering. “I just—I can’t get stuck here.”

Right.

Because that’s what she thinks I’d do. That I’d trap her here. I knew she had dreams that didn’t leave much room for me, but that didn’t stop me from hoping that maybe she’d ask me to come visit. That she wanted me to. That she wanted us—in some form.

But clearly she’s decided that wasn’t worth the mess or effort. And could I really blame her? I’d spent the last three months trying not to show her any of what was in my head.

I grab my keys and wallet off the desk, busying myself with getting to the door as fast as possible.

“Xaden—” she says behind me, her voice just barely above a whisper.

I need to interrupt her. The last thing I want is some tearful explanation of why she doesn’t want anything else. Some pity-filled speech about how she’s sorry, that she’s leaving, and how it’d all just be too hard.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, voice softer this time. “You were clear from day one. All of this was just temporary—I knew that all along.”

I pause, just long enough to look at her one more time. I try to think of something else more casual to say—something that doesn’t give away that it feels like she’d just reached inside me, lit a match, and walked away.

“Good luck with the move,” I manage to murmur.

And I leave, wondering how I could have possibly thought things would end between us any other way.

#fourth wing fanfic #riorgail #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #go read this fic immediately if you have not yet!!

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