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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

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Digestivo

3x07

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, blood, surgery, canniblism

Author’s Note: ugh this one is so sad because we’re in the home stretch and UGH i hope you guys enjoy (?) it

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary: Captured in Italy, Hannibal and Will are brought to Muskrat Farm, where Mason awaits; Alana plots Will's rescue; Margot is reminded that Mason never keeps his promises; Chiyoh learns of Hannibal's location.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95 @sweetgoodangel

(not my gif) (last to by @/rocktheholygrail

The police filed into Pazzi’s apartment. Commendator Benetti led the pack of people who quickly got Hannibal Lecter on the ground, hands in the air for surrender. Jack eagerly looked to his friend who continued to drip blood from his wounded head.

“Commendator Benetti. Don’t imagine you’re here to make an arrest,” Jack said.

“You imagine correctly.”

He glanced over to the man behind Hannibal. He knocked Hannibal out swiftly.

“Take Lecter and this one. He’ll pay us double for both. There’s no price on your head, Signor Crawford,” Benetti said as a man put a black bag over Will’s head. The same thing was done to Hannibal on the side.

“Hannibal Lecter, il Mostro di Firenze, narrowly escapes the Questura. That's how the story goes?”

“Missed him by that much. The good Doctor Lecter is once more in the wind. But he left one last victim.” Benetti gestured to some men and pointed at Will who was being carried out. “Open him the way Lecter opened the other one. Open him all the way.” He looked at Jack. “Arrivederci.”

Benettie walked out of the door.

“Arrivederci.”

The two remaining cops moved forward to Jack. The lead cop picked up the bone saw that Hannibal had set down. Jack panicked, trying to figure his way out of this one. There had to be a way out of this one.

In a blink one of the guns was shot through the head from a bullet coming from the window. The other cop looked stunned but from one of the corner rooms came you, slitting his throat with Will’s knife.

He fell to the ground.

Your eyes went on Jack and then to the other man you had not killed.

“Chiyoh,” you muttered. Jack furrowed his eyebrows but your thoughts were already elsewhere.

“Were you hiding?” Jack questioned. You shook your head.

“You think I would hide as they carted Hannibal and Will away?” You took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Hannibal drugged me. What happened?”

“Hannibal cut open Will’s head. They’re both being carted to the Verger farm as we speak.” You cursed under your breath and ran a hand through your hair. Jack had never seen you so distraught and alone. Usually it was you distraught with Will or with Hannibal. Now you were alone, the two people you were closest with being carted to their tortuous death. “Could I trouble you to take this needle out of my neck?”

You looked at him like you had just realized he was there.

“Chiyoh will do that.”

You left the apartment.

Mason sat at one end of the table. At the other end, sat Hannibal. Between them was Will, looking out of his depth and tired. He should not have been there, and yet.

“The transplant surgery is extremely skillful, which is why Cordell here will be performing the face-off,” Mason was saying.

“Hello,” Cordell said, making himself known. Hannibal looked at the cook with interested eyes.

“You boys remind me of the German cannibal who advertised for a friend, then ate the friend’s penis with him before he died. Tragedy being, the penis was overcooked. Go to all that trouble to eat a friend, and you overcook his penis. They ate it anyway. They had to, they committed. I’m committed to enjoy every bite of you.”

Will, a few seconds behind with the head injury, looked over to Mason.

“You’re going to eat him...with my face?”

“Yes. I got a taste for it after the two of you had me eat my nose.”

Will and Hannibal’s minds were both considerably spaced. Will was itching to know where you were. He couldn’t remember what had really happened and his mind now was in no condition to find those memories. He couldn’t ask Hannibal now. Not in case you had managed to get away and Mason would want to look for you.

“You must be terribly proud that you could bring this off, Mason,” Hannibal said. By his voice Will was willing to bet you were alive. For whatever reason, that was what he felt.

“An accomplishment comparable to the discovery of radium. I imagine you, they produce all my searching and expenditure, glowing in the dark like the vial in Madame Curie’s laboratory. I imaging after eating you, my belly will glow like a lightbulb.”

“It’s dangerous to get exactly what you want, Mason. What will you do after you’ve eaten me?” Hannibal asked.

“You could wreck some foster homes and torment some children…” Will suggested.

“Drink martinis made with tears.”

“But where, Mason, would the hard-core fun come from?” Hannibal questioned.

“Foolish to dilute this ecstatic time with fears about the future. Cordell, Mr. Graham is looking very dry. A little moisturizer, please.”

Cordell walked over to Will.

“I’m curious, what will be the first cuts of me you’ll serve?” Hannibal asked. Cordell, preparing the moisturizer, approached Will.

“The first course, of course, will be your hands and feet. Sizzling on a Promethean barbecue. The coal is white and very hard, makes a clear ringing sound when struck.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” Hannibal said pleasantly.

“After all, we’ll have a pajama party, you and I. You can wear shorties by then. Cordell’s going to keep you alive for a long time.”

Cordell leaned in to apply Will’s moisturizer. When he got close, Will bit off a chunk of his cheek. He spit it out on the plate in front of him, blood dripping down his cheek.

Hannibal gave him a fond look.

Will sat at the table alone. Hannibal had been carted off to be with the pigs and Mason was off talking to Margot. Will was alone until Alana Bloom stepped into the room, carrying half her weight on the cain.

Will looked at her and scoffed a bit, surprised at her presence.

“What are you doing here?” he questioned.

“I’m Mason Verger’s psychiatrist,” she explained. Will nodded, breathing out hard.

“That part of his therapy or yours?”

“I think we’re all working through some issues. I’m putting an emphasis on self-preservation.” She paused. “Jack’s alive.” He nodded. That meant something bad for you. If Jack was still alive when you were leaving then you would have killed him.

“Good for Jack,” he spit. He paused and wondered if asking Alana was the right thing to do.

“They didn’t find a body for Y/N. She’s alive.” Will narrowed his eyes.

“Unless I ate her.” There was a small silence and they understood that was completely within the realm of possibility. Will had no idea how long he had been at Pazzi’s. He could have been there for hours or minutes. “You helped Mason Verger find us.”

“I helped Mason find Hannibal. We followed Batard-Montrachet when we should have just followed you,” she whispered, sitting down at the table.

“Almost as ugly as what Mason wants to do to us is the fact that he can do it with the tacit agreement of people sworn to uphold the law,” Will admitted.

“It’s the way of the world.”

Alana stepped into the pig farm. She greeted the guard with a stiff smile and then reached into her handbag, picked up the tranquilizer gun and shot him in the throat. He dropped quickly.

Margot, standing by Hannibal’s cage, stared at her surprised.

“He had a pocket knife,” Hannibal said. Alana retrieved the pocketknife and crossed to where Hannibal was.

“Are you out of your mind?” Margot yelled.

“Yes,” she answered. “I thought I could save Will from you, but right now, you’re the only one I know can save him for sure.” She looked at him. “Unless you didn’t eat Y/N.” Hannibal showed no emotional response. “Promise me you’ll save him. Please.”

“I promise, Alana. And I always keep my promises. Just cut the ropes on one arm, give me the knife and leave. I can do the rest.”

She nodded.

“Are you going to kill Mason?”

“Margot is. Snatch some of my hair, back from the hairline, if you don't' mind; get some skin. Put it in Mason’s hand after he’s dead.” They started at each other for a moment.

“Could I have ever understood you?” she questioned. He smiled.

“No.”

As Alana and Margot left silently, Hannibal got himself out of his reigns.

He smiled at you, who stood at the door.

“I was meant to come save you,” you whispered. He was naked but you didn’t seem phased. “If you’re saved, I suppose I should find Will.”

“Mason wants his face.” You raised an eyebrow.

“He has good taste in faces.”

“Good news and bad news. The good news is, until recently, a full face transplant was almost unthinkable,” Cordell explained. “But medical science is a fast-moving train. First, I’ll lift your pretty much right off, and then I’ll expose the blood vessels and major connections of Mason’s face, then lay yours straight on top. You really are done, you know. That’s the bad news.”

Will realized then, the gravity of this situation. He couldn’t get out of this situation. You were likely dead, Hannibal was chained. Who else had he ever counted on saving him? Will’s eyes moved to the gleaming tray of surgical instruments. Sharp blades and tools. He struggled to move his limbs and as nothing moved, panci reached his eyes.

“Cordell told me, if I waited long enough, he could grow me a new face from my own cells, but I was adamant it was your face I wanted. I was looking at your face while you were watching me cut mine off. I thought, ‘That’s a nice face.’ And the pleasure of knowing you’ve digested your girlfriend with that face...ah the serendipity,” Mason said as he was placed on the surgical table beside Will.

“You’re going under now, Mr. Verger and when you awake up, your face will be bound and uncomfortable.” Cordell adjusted Mason’s dosage and Mason’s eyes slowly fell to sleep. Cordell moved to Will. “This will immobilize your body, but you’ll feel everything. I’m going to cut your face without anesthesia, Mr. Graham.”

Will looked up at Cordell and his hands squeezed into a tight fist just as Cordell’s throat was slit. A hand gripped his chest as it reached around him. Slowly, Cordells body fell to the ground beside the surgical table. Will had his blood sprayed all over his face.

As Cordell fell you were revealed behind him, holding a bloodied knife. You smiled at Will, pleased to see that nothing had happened to him.

“Hey pretty face. Glad to see it’s still intact.” Will let out a breath of relief.

“I thought I ate you.” You laughed and shook your head.

“I fed you the soup silly.” You started at the straps to help him out. “Hannibal drugged me.”

“What was that?” Hannibal emerged from the shadows. You turned around quickly, pleased to see him.

“I was saying you drugged me.”

“Ah yes.” Hannibal moved to Cordell’s body and you handed him the knife you used. Swiftly, Hannibal worked at peeling off Cordell’s face. You helped Will out of the surgical table but he was too exhausted to walk on his own.

“I can’t hold him on my own,” you said. Hannibal nodded.

“I’ll take him when I’m done with this.”

You cupped Will’s face in your hands as he leaned against the table. Your hand rubbed gently across the bandage on his forehead.

“It bleeds worse than it is,” he promised. You scoffed and nodded softly.

“Alana and Margot will kill Mason when he wakes up. We take Will back home.” You nodded, smiling gently.

“Home.”

Your house seemed different. The last time you were in it was just before you went to Europe. What a different world that had been.

Will was draped over the bed and you sat beside him, hand holding his. He was out cold. Hannibal stood at the foot of the bed.

“You do know Will’s wishes right?” you asked. Hannibal looked at you for a moment and nodded slowly.

“I assume he’ll tell us.”

“He doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

“And you?” You paused, lips pursed as you looked anywhere but Hannibal. You held Will’s hand in yours and you rubbed it, breathing steadily.

“And I will do whatever Will decides to do.” He was surprised at that. “But I don’t want you to be caught. I won’t put you in jail, I won’t cooperate or participate. I can’t.” Hannibal glanced outside of the window.

“Chiyoh is here.” You nodded.

“Go speak with her, before he wakes up.”

When Hannibal walked back inside, Will woke up. He adjusted himself so that he was sitting up and able to look at Will.

“Do we talk about teacups and time and rules of disorder?” Hannibal questioned.

“The teacup is broken. It’ll never gather itself back together again,” Will stated. Hannibal sat at the chair across from the bed.

“Not even in your mind? Your memory palace is building Will. It’s full of new things. It shared some rooms with my own. I’ve discovered you there. Victorious.” Hannibal glanced at you. “And what was nothing with you Y/N has grown, grown to something so grand.” He sounded proud. You had to look away. You knew how this conversation would go.

“When it comes to you and me and Y/N, there can be no decisive victory,” Will stated.

“We are a zero-sum game?”

Will took that in for a moment and glanced at you. You didn’t meet his eyes.

“I miss my dogs.” Will started and you closed your eyes tightly, facing the wall. “I’m not going to miss you. I’m not going to find you. I’m not going to look for you. I don’t want to know where you are or what you do. I don’t want to think about you anymore.”

Will’s voice was cold and flat. It striked Hannibal.

“You delight in wickedness and then berate yourself for the delight,” Hannibal said.

“You delight. I tolerate,” Will quipped.

“Tolerance is a fig leaf to hide your ravenous self from the world,” Hannibal said.

“I don’t have your appetite.” He paused and took one last long breath in. “Good-bye, Hannibal.”

Hannibal stared for a moment, rejected, hurt. Will looked at you but you refused to look at him. Hannibal finally stood up and you stood up quickly, rushing over to Hannibal. You threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“It’s for the best that you go. Go and keep going,” you whispered so Will couldn’t hear. He relished in smelling you. He breathed you in and knew that your feelings were different than Will’s but you agreed. You couldn’t do this anymore. “And keep my job open,” you whispered. He couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

You peeled away from him and stared at him, taking in all his features. He was reminded of the look you had when he left for Florence.

You let him go.

He left.

That night, the police arrived at Will’s home in droves. Will glanced at you and the grip you had on the mug you were holding tightened. You looked over at him.

“Why didn’t you kill Jack?” he asked. “I’d been meaning to ask that.”

“I honestly thought Chiyoh would do it. I was unfortunately wrong.” You walked out of the door and Will followed suit. You had both showered, looked over each other's wounds, cried in each other's arms.

You faced Jack Crawford with a hard look.

“He’s gone, Jack,” Will said. You nodded.

“I’m here.” Your head snapped to where Hannibal had emerged. Your heart felt stabbed. You had told him to go. He was supposed to go.

He kneeled to the ground and you moved forward to grab him, do something to stop this. Will grabbed your arm. You shook your head, protesting against him.

“You finally caught the Chesapeake Ripper, Jack,” Hannibal said, hands above his head.

“Didn’t catch you, you surrendered.”

You kept moving forward, pushing against Will’s hold on you. He had to wrap his arms around you now to keep you from walking off of the porch.

“I want you to know exactly where I am. And where you can find me.”

You quit protesting. You turned around and buried your head in Will’s chest. He held you tighter than he ever had as he watched Jack arrest Hannibal Lecter.

3x08

#hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal imagines

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loudsuitlover · 4 years

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Doctor Harry VI. Cerca del suelo

A/N: DISCLAIMER THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE STORY, I just want to write this here so I can read it when I get writer’s block again. I had forgotten how much I like writing. I guess I can say writer’s block is a really long, torturous and terrible thing but I’m starting to think it happened to me when my writing started getting attention because then I started writing for others and I don’t enjoy that half as much as I enjoy writing to myself. So this writing and this story is for me; but I’m gonna share it with you. That being said, happy reading!

Before: I, II, III, IV, V

**Contains filthy sinful smut and explicit language.

Ollie frowns before she bites her bottom lip and twirls her drink on her hand and I too watch the ice cubes dancing around on her glass. Jason laughs at something he’s told Marie on her ear and by the way her eyes widen and her cheeks turn pink I don’t want to know what he’s said.

“Indie.” Jason calls me. “Are you going to tell us or not?”

“Yeah, what happened?” Marie gives me a little smile.

She’s drunk already. I watch her tiny figure on her black top and her jeans and am afraid she keeps drinking because she’ll end up throwing up like I did last Friday. She gave me such a hard time this morning when I told them about my night with Harry even though Jason cut me short in order to keep the hype for this very same moment. Drinks after dinner and gossip. His favourite Friday night plan.

“Penis size.” Jason demands.

I roll my eyes before I smile at him mischievously as he joins his hands before his face as if he were going to pray and then slowly moves them away and away. Obviously I don’t say anything and his eyes widen.

“What?!” His hands keep separating from one another. “Okay, this is impossible. I’m starting over.”

Ollie throws her head back and laugh and I just shake my head. Marie tries to stop his hands and he gives up.

“It was big.” He shrugs. “The smile you got this morning confirmed it.”

We all laugh.

“I still can’t believe you actually slept with him.” Marie condemns. “He’s your tutor for God’s sake. He has to supervise your freaking essay! Have you thought about how you’re going to go on about that?”

“Okay, Marie, you need to calm down. It’s just an essay. It’s not like they have to perform an open-heart surgery together.”

“Harry told me if I wanted he could ask professor Gibbins to supervise my essay for me.” I shrug.

“But you’re not gonna do that, right?” Olivia asked.

I shrug again.

“See? That would clearly means it affects you academically.” Marie adds.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jason intervenes. “How is he coming on about it?” I fix my eyes on his with a questioning look. “I mean what has he said?”

“Well let her finish!” Olivia complains. “All we know is they had sex. We don’t know any details.”

“Well I’m not planning on giving you any details.”

“See? You killed the vibe guys!”

I roll my eyes.

“He didn’t say anything.” I tell them. “Because I left before he woke up.” I flinch.

Marie’s jaw falls, Olivia starts choking with her drink and Jason, being the dramatic queen he is, just spits his.

“You did what?” He yells.

“I panicked!” I defend myself. “I just… It all happened pretty fast I wasn’t even expecting to have sex with him at all and then we did and I fell asleep accidentally and I woke up at like 5 am and left because… Well because what was I doing there?”

“When you mean you fell asleep accidentally, you mean he tired you out so bad you literally just fell asleep?” Jason’s eyes provoke me with his usual spark I’ve missed so much lately.

I’m glad my drama is at least bringing playful Jason back. I haven’t heard him teasing any of us like that in weeks so I roll my eyes and sit back on my chair.

“And he hasn’t called you or text you or something?” Marie asks.

I shake my head and she places her hand on top of mine. This is what I love about Marie. I know she doesn’t approve of what I did but the way she cares about me overcomes her disagreement. She might not want me to get involved with Harry, but she’ll feel sorry for me if I don’t get what I want anyway.

“How is he going to call her if she’s the one who left?” Jason says. “You should call him!”

“But he’s the guy…” Marie shrugs. “Usually is the guy who calls.”

“Maybe that’s why I wasn’t good with girls.” Jason shrugs.

“You weren’t good with girls because you’re gay.” Olivia smiles.

“I’m bisexual.”

“You’re not.”

Jason smiles at her.

“The fact that I was never attracted to you does not make me gay, Ollie.”

She shrugs and pouts raising her eyebrows and if the concept whatever had a face, I’m sure it would be that one. They both laugh because they’re the same person in two different bodies. That’s the reason why JJ was never attracted to Ollie but they’re not ready to talk about that.

“So on Monday you’re just gonna go to his office with your essay and wait for him to give you corrections after not even calling him after you disappeared on him.”

I don’t know whether that was a question, an accusation or opcion C. I shrug. Olivia rolls her eyes and grabs my phone.

“Let me see.”

“No, Ollie! No, give it back!”

Jason defends her standing in the middle of us two as she unblocks my phone. I call for Marie’s help and she tries to grab the phone away from her but Olivia’s taller so my little ally has little to do.

“Where to begin?” She thinks out loud. “How should I start J?”

“Just call him.” Jason lets out.

“Do not. Do not call him.”

“Guys don’t be cruel.”

Marie tries to grab my phone back as the nerves eat my stomach up. I feel like puking.

“I’ll text him!” I offer and I spot Olivia’s head popping up from behind Jason’s back. She’s got a single eyebrow up and JJ and her exchange a look.

“I wouldn’t trust her but she’s about to cry. Give her the phone.” He shrugs.

Ollie hands me the phone and I check she didn’t text Harry anything with my heart pounding against my rib cage.

“What do you think I should do, Marie?”

Her eyes widen while Olivia and Jason complain about why I’d ask her and ignore them. I think Marie’s going to tell me she doesn’t know, that she doesn’t have much experience with guys, because ever since her ex cheated on her she hasn’t gone out with anyone but deep down I know I just want for someone to tell me I don’t have to call him and I think Marie is going to say that. Instead she shrugs and wraps her little arm around my shoulders.

“I think we should have another drink.”

Oh, Marie, you’re drunk and not helping much. I see Ollie and Jason arguing as we lean at the bar and wait for the waiter to take our order. He eyes my friend once as Marie looks to her nails. He eyes her again and smiles to himself.

“Marie, the waiter’s got the hots for you.”

Marie looks at him as he takes an order and then back at me with a questioning look. Damn it, she’s so unlucky. If this was a movie she would have caught him staring but this is not and that’s why Harry hasn’t called me either because this is not a movie, this is real life and in real life girls like me don’t go out with guys like Harry.

“I think you should text him.”

My eyes bulge as I look at Marie.

“What can I offer the prettiest girl at the bar?”

I hear her giggles from behind me. Good job, waiter. If he had said that to me I would have rolled my eyes and told him to get himself some glasses but this is Marie we’re talking about. She probably is the prettiest girl at the bar anyway and she’s also a firm romcom believer so that pick-up line was perfect for her.

“I’ll have Bacardi and coke and Bulldog and tonic, please.”

He winks at her before he disappears to get our drinks ready.

“What did you say?” I ask her as soon as she turns around.

“You didn’t want Bulldog? I can probably ask him to change it, sorry!”

She’s about to call the waiter when I stop her.

“No!” I tell her. “I mean, did you say you think I should call Harry?”

“I said text.” She points. “And yes, I did because I think you should. I just didn’t say anything in front of Jason and Ollie for them not to think they were right. Lord knows they don’t need me to feed their ego.”

Before I can argue, Marie’s waiter comes back with our two drinks and a bowl with gummy bears we didn’t ask for. He winks at Marie and doesn’t tell her how much she ought to pay. I smile. He’s good. Marie hands him her credit card anyway.

“It’s on the house.”

“No, it’s not.” She smiles.

“I insist.”

“If you want to offer me a drink, I’d rather you have it with me.”

My eyes widen behind my friend and I see the waiter blushing and laughing. Well done, Marie! He then accepts her credit card and asks for her phone number and my friend gives it to him and turns around as if that happened to her on a daily basis. We walk away like divas until we are at a safe distance and then we laugh out loud.

“What was that? Did Olivia’s spirit posses you?”

“I don’t know!” She laughs. “I mean we talked last night while you were on your date with Harry and you know how she is, she tried to convince me about the benefits of sporadic sex and I don’t know, it got me thinking.” She giggles. “He was handsome, right?”

“He was!” I laugh. “Guys, the waiter just asked for Marie’s number!”

“What? Which waiter?”

Jason’s eyes widen as he looks at her and Marie tells him the story and I don’t fail to notice the way Olivia’s eyes fall on her and she smiles knowingly. Oh, Ollie. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hug her to my side even though she just tried to ruin my life by calling Harry treacherously because I know she means well.

I remember when she would tell Jason about how different things were when you actually took the time to get to know the person you were attracted to and everything about love and trust and forever and ever and Jason would go out with a different person every weekend.

It’s surprising how a heartbreak can change a person, just how love can change them back I guess for after Jack hurt Olivia she turned into Jason and ever since Jason met David he turned into a romantic soul defending and justifying a toxic relationship.

I wonder if there’s ever a healthy point. I think there might be if one of them or maybe both are psychotherapists but otherwise I think love is bound to make people crazy and then they start doing weird shit until the situation turns impossible and then one of them decides to end it or they both settle into being less happy than they could be.

“Yeah, right, and then he pays for dinner and thinks for that he has the right to fuck you and then he never calls you again.”

Marie’s words resound on my head like a mantra. And then he never calls you again… That would make everything easier and anyway part of me knew everything he wanted was a shag and then he’d get over it and act as if nothing ever happened but then why does it matter to me that he hasn’t called me?

“Sorry.”

When I look up I catch on the look Jason gave Marie for her to apologize. I don’t think they were talking about me but even if they were, I wouldn’t mind. They’re right. I feel like a prostitute.

“Anyway, Indie” Ollie has a sip from her drink and wiggles her eyebrows “did you like it?”

“What? The sex?”

She nods and shrugs raising her eyebrows as if saying what else?

“Well, Harry we all know you like.” She laughs.

What can I say?

“It was incredible.” I confess.

I don’t want to say what follows. I don’t even want to think about it. It can’t be true anyway. There’s no way it’s true. I don’t love Harry. But precisely because I don’t love him I could admit it was the best sex without love of my life. Yeah, that could be it. It doesn’t make me feel less guilty though.

“Well, at least it was worth the trouble.”

“What trouble?” Ollie asks.

“Well, I mean it’s not the smartest thing to do if she wants him to respect her.” Marie raises her eyebrows.

“What?” I will not stand that. “So just because I have sex I don’t deserve respect?”

“No, Indie, you know what I mean. I just mean if the rest of doctors hear about it, what do you think they would think?”

“Why would I care what they think?” I am getting mad. “I can’t believe you’re saying that, Marie. It’s precisely for comments like that that we can’t move past it. Do you realize how sexist you’re sounding right now? You don’t think that same thing of him, do you? Just because he’s a man!”

“I am the sexist? You were the one who let her professor fuck her! Who knows how many students has he fucked?”

I can’t believe my ears.

“Let him fuck me?” I’m disgusted at her choice of words. “There were two people on that bed, you know? I did what I wanted to do. I didn’t let him fuck me. I fucked him too!” I only realize I’m screaming when I notice the eyes of those around us on me. “I know how to say no, you know?”

“Well you said you didn’t want to sleep with him and look at you.” She whispers. “Are you sure you didn’t leave in the morning because you regretted it? Maybe you were even embarrassed?”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.”

I leave Marie gasping like a fish out of water and walk outside to the terrace. It’s the end of October already and it’s rather chilly today so I’m not surprised when I realize the only people around me are smoking.

I bring the collar of my denim jacket to my chin and hug my frame as I look ahead at the lights on the bars on the other side of the street. I can’t believe Marie had said all that to me. One minute she’s saying she thinks I should text him and the other she’s throwing all that shit at me. I know she’s overly protective but she can be such a bitch sometimes too.

And I quite frankly don’t get the concept she has of sex. She almost made it sound as if Harry had somehow raped me and for the love of God even thinking about it makes me hate her words. What happened with Harry was… Perfect.

And that’s why I left.

I feel tears blurring my vision. Fuck. I wasn’t expecting these thoughts to be clouding my mind now. I feel my phone vibrating and take it out the pocket of my jacket. Rio said he would text me when he was going home and check if I needed a ride but it’s too soon for him to want to go home already. Maybe he’s having a shitty night just like I am.

Harry: What are you doing?

I hold the phone on my hand and can barely believe my eyes as I read his text again and again. I hadn’t even thought about one of the many terrible things Marie just said. How many students has he fucked? I don’t know if I care. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t care about how many women he’s fucked in the past or even how many women he’s fucking now. I can’t walk around pretending I’m the most liberated woman and then question how many women my partner has fucked. If he’s fucked a lot of students well, good for them.

He clearly has experience. One isn’t a master in sex by studying about it. The way he touched me and the way he hit every spot he needed to clearly indicated practice. But it’s not about the practice or even the sex. I don’t care about that, that I know. It’s about fucking students.

I entertain the thought that Marie might be right. What if he did take advantage of me? What if he always does this? Make his student wet and then get in her panties and if I’ve seen you, I don’t remember. This is the kind of behaviour I would condemn if I heard about it. I would be one of those people who would think he was a jerk for taking advantage of a student like that. I guess that’s just another way of being sexist though.

“Hey.” Olivia places her hand on the spot between my shoulder blades.

“Hey.” I give her a little smile.

“Marie’s really sorry.” She mediates. “She wanted to come talk to you but I told her it was better if she gave you some space.”

“Do you think she’s right?”

Olivia shakes her head.

“Do you?”

It’s hard for me to know that kind of things now. It’s a fear I can’t get rid off. After Javier, I mean after getting out of an abusive relationship like that, I keep wondering if I would ever jump right back into another. Whether I’m that profile of girl and I’m bound to have my partner abusing of me whether I realize it or not.

I’m seeing that with Jason too and I realize how scary and how hard it is. He doesn’t see it, he’s completely blind and you start wondering how is it possible that not only he doesn’t realize but he also justifies it. It’s very frustrating to talk to someone that not only allows someone else to hurt them but actually understands them. It’s scary what someone can do to somebody’s mind.

“Can I tell you what I think?” Olivia lights up the cigarette between her lips and I shrug. “I think you like him.”

I look ahead. That doesn’t matter. I still have my phone on my hand and we both look down when the screen lights up and another text pops up.

Harry: Are you home?

“And he likes you too.” Olivia smiles. “Answer him. I’m gonna get us another drink.”

Indie: It’s Friday night. Of course I’m not.

Harry: What? You go out every single Friday night?

Indie: Don’t you?

Harry: Sometimes I forget you’re 21.

Harry: Can we talk?

Indie: We’re talking.

Harry: I mean can I see you?

Indie: It’s Golden Girls’ night.

Harry: Can I call you then?

Indie: What’s the problem with texting?

Harry: Sometimes you forget I’m 27.

I chuckle and call him. He answers on the first beep.

“Why did you leave?”

Oh, boy.

“I had to go. You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You had to go? In the middle of the night?”

“It was morning…”

“Indie.”

“I wanted to go home before uni so I left early. I didn’t realize I had to give you any explanations.”

“Fuck, Indie. Are you always so blunt?”

“I did warn you. You said I got to be blunt.” I shrug even though he can’t see me.

“You didn’t even let me say goodbye.”

“Well, it’s not like you saying goodbye would have made a difference, is it?”

“I would have kissed you” he argues “and that would have made a difference.”

My knees go weak.

“Are you with Olivia?”

“Yes?”

Please tell me he’s not about to ask me for her phone number. I would tear his head off.

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

I feel tickles on my belly as I make my way inside the bar. Jason gives me an innocent smile as Marie looks at me as if I was the one deciding whether she should go to prison or not. I offer her my hand across the table and she holds it as her bottom lip tremble. I know she’s sorry and God knows sometimes I say things I don’t mean too. It would be very hypocritical of me not to let it go now.

I see Olivia smiling on the phone and give my friends a questioningly look but they shake their head. Jason stands up from the table and tells us he’s leaving. I’ve already fought with Marie tonight and quite frankly I don’t feel like fighting him about the same thing again but silently we all know he’s going because David doesn’t like it when we party until morning. I give him a hug though as he says goodbye.

“Whaaaat?” Ollie pouts. “You’re leaving? What’s this? Where are the party animals I used to know and love? Mario’s on his way!”

I spit my drink. Marie’s eyes set on mine. We’re both horrified.

As soon as Jason leaves Marie comes back with two more drinks, a peace offer she says, but I know she just wanted to see her waiter again. I appreciate the drink though. I had enough thinking tonight and I want to let it all go. Getting drunk doesn’t solve anything. Alcohol would make her shut up too.

“When did this happen?” I interrogate Olivia.

She’s been making all these questions to me and she hadn’t told us this bomb!

“He’s my tutor…” She shrugs. “So the other day we had a cup of coffee while we went on about my clinical case and…” She smiles. “He’s funny.”

“And?”

“And… We started talking.”

“And how does he have your phone number?”

“I gave it to him.”

I raise my brows. If she’s gonna make us ask every little piece of information… We will.

“Why?”

“Because I have to catch up on the practices I missed when I went to France to visit my mamie.”

Marie and I look at each other with mouths agape before we both look at her.

“And you’re going to catch up on that now?” Marie asks.

Olivia rolls her eyes and grins as she waves at someone at the door. Marie and I turn our heads and my breath catches on my throat when my eyes meet the green.

Harry’s grinning as he walks towards us. Marie’s foot keeps kicking me under the high table but my eyes don’t leave his. I don’t think I could look away if I tried. Memories of last night play in my mind like a movie and I wonder if they play on his too. I woke up on his bed this morning for crying out loud.

“Hi.” He greets us.

“Hi.” Marie offers him her little hand and he shakes it amused.

“Hi.” I smile and his green eyes set on my lips.

If I had any doubts… He’s definitely thinking about last night too.

“Hi, Mario.” I give him another smile and he smiles back.

“Hi, Indie. How are you?”

He’s grinning like a kid in Christmas and he looks so much younger than he normally does at the hospital. I almost want to aww at him but I won’t. Oh, Ollie, please don’t hurt him. He looks like a teddy bear.

“This is my cousin Tommy.”

Mario introduces the third guy that came with them and he sits down next to Marie. The perfect sync tells me they’ve talked before they got here. Marie laughs at something Tommy says and I roll my eyes. She really needs a shag like Ollie says.

Ollie and Mario disappear to order drinks for all of them and Harry simply stands next to me with a big smile. I don’t know how I feel about him not being even a little annoyed that I left without waking him even though I didn’t do it to annoy him but… It still bothers me a little.

“Let me guess” I tell him “A glass of water for you.”

He throws his head and laughs.

“I actually drink Sprite when I go out.”

“Sprite?” I chuckle. “I’ve never met anyone who drinks just Sprite. I mean anyone over six years old.”

He chuckles.

“Well, I’m Harry. Nice to meet you.” He offers me his hand and I shake it. “I drink just Sprite when I go out and I normally say goodbye to people I fuck before I leave.”

Ouch. I narrow my eyes at him but don’t say anything and as if on cue, Olivia and Mario appear with his Sprite and Mario’s and Tommy’s drink. I look away from him and pay attention to Tommy as he tells Marie about his life but the entire time I can feel Harry’s eyes on me.

I notice women look at him too but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead he looks at me. He knows he’s annoying me. I wonder if he’s so used to women staring and trying to get with him that his brain doesn’t even see it anymore like it does with our noses.

“Is there something on my face?”

He shakes his head and that stupid smile stays.

“But it’s hard for me not to see you naked on my mind.”

My face heats up immediately and horrified I look at both my friends but they’re both busy chatting up the Italian cousins. He leans closer to my body so he can whisper in my ear.

“And remember how you taste” my breathing trembles “and how you smell” he inhales my parfum and hums in appreciation and I feel my fingers tightening around my drink “and how you feel, so tight and wet and warm” his fingers wrap around a strand of my hair and he glides them down until the tip before he rests it on my back.

“Why me?”

As I turn my neck to face him, I hear him suck in a breath at our proximity. I play it cool but my mouth goes dry too, especially when I see I have that effect on him too.

“Why you what?”

“Why do you insist on me?”

“So pretty with your lips red.”

I sigh and look away from him. If he’s not going to answer my questions then I won’t give him the time of the day.

“I don’t know.” He confesses next to me.

I turn my neck again and stare into his green eyes searching for any sign of lying but all I find is sincerity and confusion? Is he as confused as I am?

“Don’t lie.”

I hear him puffing through his nose and watch him. His jaw clenches.

“I told you I don’t lie.” He reminds me. “I really don’t know, Indie. I don’t know why I can’t get you out of my head but I can’t and I want to fuck you all the time.” He shrugs.

I remember what he said about always saying what’s going through his mind and after that, I believe him. I feel my mouth going dry and I want him to fuck me too. I’m afraid this man can read my mind because I don’t know why but I know he knows that too. Maybe I can read his mind too or maybe I’m as obvious as he is.

“Come home with me.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I still have some questions to ask him and I want to stop thinking again. I think last night was the first time I stopped torturing myself in three years and I want to feel like that again.

I guess it’s strange that it doesn’t feel weird to me to walk next to him towards his car or that we said our goodbye to my friends as if it was normal that we left together and it’s also strange that I like the way people look at us down the street. He doesn’t walk too close to me or touches me at all and I reckon he might be as scared that someone from the hospital would see us together as I am. My phone vibrates and Rio’s name appears on the screen.

“Hi, Blue.” My brother’s deep voice greets me.

Everyone in my family has always called me by my middle name. I only started being Indie when I met Dylan.

“Hi there. Going home already?”

“Yeah, the guys wanted to go clubbing but since we have mum’s meeting tomorrow morning I thought it smarter to go home.” He chuckles.

“Yeah.” I chuckle too.

“Are you coming?”

“No, not yet.”

“Are you with Jason and the girls?”

“Yeah.” I lie.

“Cool. Don’t come home alone. Call me if you need me to pick you up.”

“Sure, Rio. Thank you.”

“That’s okay. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

“Who’s Rio?” Harry asks as soon as I hang up the phone.

If he wants to know about my family I’ll answer his questions. I don’t mind talking about my family. Other things... Well, that’s another story.

“Rio’s my brother.”

He nods. I’m surprised when he doesn’t ask anything further but he seems awfully quiet. Just ten minutes ago he was teasing me and he seemed to be ready to fuck me against that very same table and now he seems to be deep in thought. I don’t know why but I don’t like seeing him like this. I like the carefree, smiley Harry who doesn’t seem to have a worry in the world.

“Is everything alright?”

It’s the first time he looks at me like that. His green eyes seem dull and I feel like I just touched something that I shouldn’t. His gaze makes me shiver. He sighs and looks ahead and simply shakes his head.

Once again his sincerity surprises me. I’m gonna have to start believing that he does not lie. Out of nowhere, because I don’t like seeing him like that, I reach for his hand and hold it in mine and he eyes our intertwined hands together before he removes his as if mine burnt. What burns then are my cheeks. Why did I do that?

I am beyond embarrassed and I’m glad he isn’t making any comments because the last thing I want right now is to talk about it. If he were to say something, I’d thank him for removing his hand from mine. It still stings.

Lustful imagines fill my mind as we make our way inside his apartment and my eyes fix on the same wall he had me pressed against less than 24 hours ago. My mouth goes dry just by thinking about it and all I want is for him to take me like he did the night before. I turn to look at him and my eyes must speak for me because without wasting another minute he kisses me against the door.

He still has his keys on his hand, the one that’s resting on my waist, until he lets them fall and I hear the jingling sound against the floor and then his hand snakes under my denim jacket and he places his palm on my back pulling me to him and pressing my chest against his.

His lips are soft and tender and he tastes sweet and minty. I enjoy the way he knows how to use his mouth, his kisses having a direct line with my belly, that flips and roars and sends electricity to the rest of my body; and my fingers find a home on his hair as I gently tug at his soft strands. His tongue licks my lips before he rolls it over mine and we start a wet battle I don’t mind losing.

Holding my body close to his with one hand on my back, he takes my jacket off with the other, letting it fall to the ground. On the silence of his apartment, I hear the fabric when it hits the floor and forms a blue denim mound, and I hear our mouths and our breaths mixing together.

Without saying a word or stopping our kiss, he walks along the grey hall and guides me backwards towards the bathroom inside his bedroom and only once inside he breaks the kiss and turns my body around, pressing my back against his chest.

The walls are pearl grey but this time it’s a grey tile with horizontal stripes that remind me of the blunt tips of those mountain rocks where you can see the layers that build the mountain. The sink is part of a white marble top that stands below a big mirror where I can see his hands caressing the skin of my bare arms before one hand presses against my belly through my dress and up to my chest where he cups one of my breasts and squeezes the flesh. I moan and rest the back of my head on his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to kiss, suck and nibble on the skin of my neck. I watch on the mirror his right hand grabbing the hem of my dress over my right thigh and lifting it up until he exposes my hip.

Delicately his large hands grab the hem of my dress and carefully lifts it up until he takes it off me and then his wandering hands caress the skin of my front and massage my breasts. His hot breath on my shoulder raises goosebumps and ignites my desire for him.

“You’re so soft.” He whispers on my ear before he presses a single kiss against my pulse. “And so warm.”

He stops touching me and it’s like he leaves me naked all over again. I tilt my neck so I can see him and he captures my lips with his and dives his tongue inside my mouth. I moan and press my bum against his groin and I can’t control my arousal when I feel his excitement against my hot skin. I feel his fingers moving against my back as he unbuttons his shirt and I focus on the noises. His breathing on my ear, the soft fabric falling down his arms, his zipper going down…

He stops my hands when I try to unclasp my bra and I still see him through the mirror unclasping it himself and placing all my garments together on the marble top. I am not even aware of my own reflection since Harry’s steals all my attention and doesn’t let me see anything else. His body is athletic and tall and his skin is pale and inked and I want to run my tongue across all of him and kiss every corner of his body. Leaving my undies on, his large hands caress my legs as he kneels down and playfully bites the flesh of my ass as he takes off my shoes.

I think my mouth is so dry I couldn’t speak if I wanted to but there’s nothing to say anyway. There’s something about this silence between us as if we were accustomed to each other that keeps me quiet. Finally he snakes both his hands under the hem of my panties on either side of my hips and caresses down my legs taking my underwear down with his hands. When we are both fully naked, he gently pushes me so I walk inside the shower and he closes the screen behind us.

There’s no sign of the playful Harry, neither of the filthy Harry I got to know last night. Instead he looks at me as if I was the most precious thing on the world and I feel my legs turning into jelly under his worshipping stare. Despite his calm, his length rests against his belly stiff, tight and shinny and my mouth waters. I wonder if he’d let me wrap my mouth around him if I asked but I’m afraid of doing so. He doesn’t seem to mind my curious staring as he approaches me and corners me against the wall. His hand snakes behind me and he turns on the water that falls on top of us and get us soaked in seconds.

My eyes are closed when his hot mouth gapes against mine before he fully kisses me and his hands fall to my ass, grabbing my flesh as he presses me against his hard on. I thank God he’s holding me for otherwise I think my legs would have brought me down already.

Stamping wet kisses everywhere his lips land, he turns my body slowly so that my back is pressed against his front once again and I moan out loud when I feel his fingertips tickling the insides of my thighs. My mouth parts at the touch of his two middle fingers intruding ever so delicately and his worked up breathing against my cheek sends my chest into a frenzy.

My left hand caresses the skin on his arm as his wrist moves back and forth and his fingers curl deliciously inside me and my other hand searches for his hair and caress his scalp.

“You’re so beautiful, Indie” He presses a kiss against my shoulder “Do you like it?”

“Yes.” My voice is all but a whisper but he doesn’t press it.

His fingers make me lightheaded but have me dying for more so I press my hips against his and moan when I feel his hot, stiff length against the low of my back. He grunts and his fingers fasten making me lose my mind completely.

“Harry” I moan, swallowing the water that falls on my mouth from the shower in an attempt to hydrate my throat. “I want you.”

“I’m right here.” He whispers.

“I want you inside.”

I bend my neck so my eyes look into his because I’ve found he’s very good at reading them and I want him to see them beg, in case he didn’t have enough with the desperation of my voice.

“Fuck, Indie. I don’t… I don’t have a condom.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I turn my body around and bring his mouth to mine with my hands on his neck. Our lips meet and battle and Harry’s merciless mouth attacks mine before his tongue soothes every red blood patch. I feel my lungs closing on me at the anticipation of having him bare and having him release white hot cum inside my cunt so that it drops out and stains my inner thighs but then his words resound on my head and I pull back.

“Are you-” On a sane moment, I stop the question before I ask.

Of course he’s having sex with other people.

“I always wear a condom.” He cups my face and presses a sweet kiss against my lips. “But I can make you cum with my fingers and have you afterwards.”

I nod my head and with that he takes me back to the place where I’m nothing but what he touches.

I still have trouble breathing when we come out of the shower. He doesn’t stop amazing me, the way he treats me and touches me as if I was made out of glass. I wonder if he touches every woman like that and I ignore the feeling on my throat. He’s staring at me. Please, don’t, don’t look at me like that. I feel very exposed, standing completely naked in his shower as his eyes investigate every part of my body.

He grabs a fresh towel from the cupboard underneath the sink and my lips part when instead of giving it to me or using it to dry himself, he hides his two hands underneath the towel and presses them against my skin in a calming, almost hypnotic ritual. He’s quiet and his expression is serious but calm. I think the troubled Harry is gone. I indulge in the way he softly presses the towel instead of rubbing it as if he was going to hurt my skin if he didn’t act so delicately. He’s kneeling in front of me as he dries my thighs and my belly and watching him I forget my exposure to him. He presses a kiss on my hipbone and then stands up and kisses my lips and being fully dried, I’ve never felt wetter.

I grab the towel from his hands and do the exact same thing he did to me but to his body and I feel lucky he lets me. My hair is wet against my back contrasting my dry mouth and I moisten my lips with every inch of his skin I carefully dry. His skin is tight and soft but thick and firm as it covers his lean muscles. Sometimes I let my fingers rest against his warm skin. I guess it’s my own timid version of the kisses he pressed against mine. When I look up at him, his green eyes look at me, seemingly confused.

I hate that he does that. He allows himself to do all these things with me, like staring at me as if he’s never seen a woman before or kiss me as if he meant it but he never lets me reciprocates. He takes his hand away when I hold it and now looks at me like that. I stand tall and leave the towel next to my clothes on the sink and when I’m about to walk away his long fingers wrap around my wrist and turn me around.

I watch him intertwined our fingers with the hand he has taken away before on his sudden mutism and he just stares at our intertwined hands as his thumb caresses my skin before he brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. I don’t know why, but I take it as a silent apology and taking his hand to my lips, I kiss it on silent forgiveness. He's still rock hard and I don’t know how he can stand there so seemingly impassive when all his blood is on that one precious part of his body. In one of his mood changes, he shifts from calm, soft Harry to the passionate, wild one and he pins me against the wall before his mouth devours mine. His teeth nibble on my bottom lip and make me moan. I’m so ready for him I’m scared of it.

Suddenly he removes his body from mine and I feel the cold his void left as he kneels in front of the sink and opens the cupboard. His absence lets me see my reflection on the mirror. I almost don’t recognize myself. My hair is humid and disheveled. Some strands frame my rosy cheeks and my chest is flushed as it moves up and down on a laborious breathing. As if I wanted to make sure that woman is me, I bring my mouth to my lips and watch her do the same. They feel warm against my mouth and they’re red blood.

When Harry stands tall, he turns his neck and looks at the mirror too and his eyes darken when he realizes I was watching myself.

“You look ravishing.”

“Then ravish me.”

I hear myself whisper and wait for him against the wall. I’ve never seen anyone putting on a condom faster and then I am levitating, mentally and physically, for Harry holds my waist and lifts me up so my feet aren’t touching the ground. As if I have done this before, my legs wrap around his waist as if my body knows what to do even when my head doesn’t. Just like last night and like I did in the shower, I let myself go and I feel that invisible deadweight I always carry on my chest lift and leave me. I feel light as a feather during those seconds before he plunges into my depths breaching every barrier of my intimacy but I welcome his intrusion as we both sigh at the feeling.

I feel like I’m dancing upon that fine line between pain and pleasure for I feel so full and the pressure takes every thought I’ve ever had away and his hips are unforgiving as he pushes in and out of me. I try to sustain my body weight, hands pushing off his shoulders and I want to ask him if I’m too heavy or if he’s okay but a whisper of his name is all I can muster among whimpers and soft pants.

We’re not even five feet away from his bed, a big, soft, comfortable bed where we could have a banquet of one another like we had the night before but it’s precisely the urgency, the animalistic, desperate need that’s sending me to the edge faster than it ever has. His ruthless hips lift my body against the tile every time he thrusts and my bare back slides down the wall every time he removes my hold rolling out of me but when my nails cling onto his shoulders and I’m afraid I’m gonna fall, he pushes in again and the whole ritual begins. The adrenaline runs through my veins at the feeling of free falling but his hands and thighs sooth me with the security of his hold. He’s taking me high but he won’t let me fall.

His grunts and groans hunt me like a heavenly song and I try to keep my ears opened so I can record his sounds and replay them when I’m not with him but it’s hard to pay attention to anything different from that desirable spot only he’s reached as he hits it again and again and again and again. I miss him every time he pulls out but it’s only for a second before he’s pushing in again.

His hands move from my hips to the back of my thighs and in an instant of panic, thinking he’s about to put me down, I clench my thighs around him tighter and he curses under his breath. I watch him as his thrusts become faster and he can’t barely get his length out but his vulnerable grunts and the way he looks, flushed and out of his mind, are enough for me. His forehead falls on mine and his hot breath hits my cheeks while he grins.

“Sorry.” He pecks my cheek. “I would have lasted longer if you hadn’t done that.” He’s smiling.

“I thought you were going to put me down.” I pout.

My hands snake from his shoulders to his hair and he chuckles before he kisses my neck.

“I was going to. I was going to take you to bed and give myself a second so I could make you cum first but when you tightened your thighs around me…” He tilts his head. “Fuck.”

“Sorry.” I smirk naughtily and he chuckles.

“You should be.” He kisses me as he rolls out and finally puts me down leaving a sad feeling of emptiness between my legs. “You should be illegal.” He spanks my ass playfully and walks out of the bathroom.

I grin like a fool and take this minute of solitude to take in the way I feel and relish on it. I bring my hand to my lower lips and blush when I notice how wet I am. I close the door of the bathroom to pee and clean myself. When I open the door, I don’t find Harry on his bed but I see a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt and even a pair of boxers folded on the mattress. His voice calls my name from outside his room.

“Are you hungry?” He must be in the kitchen.

I’m not really hungry but if he has something to eat, I might nibble on it. I doubt but when I’m about to expose myself to a new possible embarrassment he saves me. He’s leaning against the doorframe of his room in a pair of olive-green sweatpants. How can someone look so good in sweatpants?

“Those are for you.” He smiles. “But you can grab anything else from my wardrobe too.”

“No, these are fine. Thank you.”

Seeing him half dressed suddenly makes me uncomfortably aware of my own nudity so I put on his t-shirt without even looking at it.

“I was going to say you could also walk around naked” he grins smugly as I walk towards him “but that was before I knew you looked so sexy on my clothes.”

I rest the low of my back on his kitchen island and let my eyes wander across the white cupboards. The counter is white marble too and so is the island where my hips rest. The distribution seems weird to me, the sink is on the counter in front of me and behind that it’s his room and on the kitchen island he’s got the stove and under it the oven and some more cupboards. I guess it’s not so much of a kitchen island as it is an open kitchen.

I tilt my neck and see the living room and the views outside the glass windows. I imagine him cooking and looking through the window. He’s got a nice view of the city from there. He’s been watching me the entire time with a smile on his face.

“What’s on your mind?”

“You want the explicit version?”

He washes his hands on the sink but tils his neck so he can see me.

“Please.”

“I was thinking about sitting you up on that counter and making you cum on my mouth.”

My eyes widen and my face and neck heats up. This man is going to be the death of me. He’s insatiable.

“So what do you feel like having? I have fruit and bread and-” he opens the cabinets and makes a list of the food he has as if he had not just said that and for a second I think I have imagined it.

“So you’re not going to?”

I think I did say that out loud because he turns his head and looks at me with raised eyebrows.

“You want me to?”

“No,” Yes “it’s just that you said you were thinking about it and then offer me fruit?”

I must be hilarious to him because he throws his head back and laughs out loud.

“If I fucked you every time I think about it, you couldn’t walk.”

I lick my lips. He makes my mouth dry all the time. What is he doing to me? I’m gonna end up like a sex addict like him. I enter his game. If he can say these things and then act as if nothing happened so can I.

“Can I have a glass of milk?”

“You want milk?”

I roll my eyes when I see the way he’s grinning and I swat his chest playfully. He laughs and apologizes before he pours a glass of milk and hands it to me and then he grabs a clementine and peels it as his eyes fix on me.

“When you asked me why I didn’t drink” He says “what did you originally want to ask me?”

I frown. Seriously how does he know what I think all the time? How can he know I wanted to ask him something else? Am I that obvious?

“I already got my answer.” I shrug. “I wanted to ask you why you had chosen to supervise my essay.”

He nods. I drink my milk. That makes me think about what Marie said. I’m afraid of what he’ll answer if I ask him with how many students he’s been. I don’t want him to ruin what just happened by telling me this is something he’s done before and making me feel like just another one of his conquests even though that’s what I am.

“Why do you think I chose you?” His green eyes are narrowed as he studies my expression.

I don’t know how to answer that without degrading myself to the floor. Why did he even ask me? Why would he want to humiliate me like that? I think he can sense my discomfort.

“Indie?” He presses.

“Well it’s clear, isn’t it?”

“I chose you because you’re intelligent and you pay attention and you always ask interesting questions. It’s clear that you like what you do and I thought your essay would be interesting to read.”

My lips seal. I wasn’t expecting that. I feel stupid for thinking otherwise and I feel bad and sexist for having thought that way about myself. Sometimes we don’t need anyone to put ourselves down.

“You thought I had chosen you for your pretty face?”

“I didn’t think you had chosen me for my pretty face.”

I know there are lots of girls prettier than me in my class alone. I thought he had chosen me because he had this smug obsession of wanting the only thing he couldn’t have or something like that but I don’t think I’m pretty enough for him out of all people to choose me for my pretty face.

I yawn. I must look terrible because I’m not wearing any make up since our shower. Dear Lord I’m not wearing any make up since our shower! I must have looked like a panda bear under the water. That ruins the whole imagine. He wasn’t standing there with a beautiful girl under the shower but with a moaning wet panda.

“Well good” peacemaker Harry walks towards me with a beautiful smile and takes the now empty glass from my hand and leaves it on the counter next to me before he pecks my lips “because, despite your pretty face, I chose you for what’s in here” his fingertip delicately knocks on my temple and I smile. “You’re pretty tired, aren’t you?”

I yawn again and he chuckles. My hands cling onto his shoulders when I feel his arm under my knees and he lifts me up and carries me bridal style towards his room. I chuckle and hold onto his chest.

“I can walk, you know?”

“I know.” He grins.

We both chuckle as he walks towards his room and then he carefully places me on his bed. My eyes set on the picture on his bedside table again as he gets in bed next to me.

“Who are they?” I ask and yawn.

“Tired but still nosy.” He jokes.

He lifts his head so he can have a look at the photo even if he doesn’t need to because it’s his picture. He should know what he has next to his bed.

“They’re my mum and my sister.”

I hum. My eyes are already closed when I feel his kiss on my temple.

“Harry”

“Yeah?”

“Did I look like a raccoon on the shower?”

I smile with my eyes closed as he laughs out loud. I wish I could see him because I’ve never heard him laughing that hard but Morpheus is very distracting. What I hear next I don’t know if he said or I dreamt it because as he answers my question it’s like he’s speaking my own thoughts.

“It’s because you stop my mind.” He whispers.

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gymviralscom · 7 years

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People Are Doing It At Your Gym: 6 Personal Trainer Secrets

It’s been months since you signed up for that gym membership, and yet here you are, staring at a screen instead of working out. Maybe you’re making the right choice. Sure, sitting on your ass will almost certainly kill you sooner, but at least you’ll be spared the pain, lies, and body fluids you know a gym trip will bring. And at least you won’t have to look at the smiling face of a personal trainer like Ryan George, who wants to tell you that …

There’s Plenty Of Sex At The Gym

stokpic/Pixabay

I’m proud of the number of clients I’ve bedded … because that number is zero. I did a home session once with a woman who suggested exercising in the nude (I advised her not to — the pinching alone!). I had a male client invite me to a threesome with his wife (again, I said no; that is not what we mean by a “partner membership”). At a hotel gym, I worked with a client who wanted me to massage his glutes and asked if I’d ever been with a man (I told him that I wasn’t trained in butt massage).

Body-n-Care/Pixabay “No, I’m not trained in groin massages either.”

Less ethical trainers take advantage, though. There was one I worked with who went after every attractive woman that came in. One day, a girl came storming onto the fitness floor and asked every staff member where he was, but he was nowhere to be found. A few minutes later, there was a loud commotion: The girl didn’t know about the trainer’s reputation and found out that he had been hooking up with someone else. The gym ended up canceling both women’s memberships for fighting. They kept the trainer, though, as he had among the best sales numbers at the gym.

One high-end gym that I was working at tried to incentivize us to stay on-site all day by building a “sleeping” room for the personal trainers, complete with bunk beds. Yes, some genius thought it was a smart idea for a group of mostly young, attractive, and single trainers to have their own bedroom in the gym, and much to everyone’s shock and amazement, the room became a love-den. I did try the room out for its intended purpose on one occasion, only to have my nap interrupted by two trainers working each other out. Eventually, we lost access to the room because the housekeeping staff refused to clean it.

kadmy/iStock “Seriously, how difficult is it to put the condoms IN the trash can?”

One tip: Never go barefoot in a steam room. At the place I work now, the steam room is pretty regularly stained with semen. It’s most likely the result of jacking off pre-workout, which supposedly drops your blood pressure and relaxes you. Hey, they say you have to wipe only your sweat down after you’re finished.

A Personal Trainer’s Looks Matter Way More Than Their Qualifications

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Like most of the service industry, gyms hire with an eye toward beauty. As a manager told me, I have to be what the client wants me to be. To female trainers, he said, “If it’s a guy, you have to give him a really tough workout. When he’s finished, take him to the massage table. Massage his legs, stretch him out, and when you are doing the hamstring stretch, lean over, expose a bit of cleavage and say, ‘I’d like you to be my client. What kind of package can I put you down for?'”

g-stockstudio/iStock “I’m very committed to your hap-penis.”

It’s pretty clear what kind of business he thought he was running, and it didn’t involve a lot of careful vetting of qualifications. As a result, many of us didn’t have any. I got certified through the NASM, but plenty of trainers I work with haven’t. Some take multiple-choice online tests and use that, plus their visible muscles, to get hired. Don’t assume your trainer is some former athlete or even passionate about fitness — many join up just because they think it’ll be an easy job.

But all that isn’t necessarily the case. When I first joined one high-end gym, one of my fellow newbies was a stunning fitness model. She ended up getting lots of attention from the male clientele but couldn’t turn that into paying clients and quit the field altogether. Meanwhile Adrian — a middle-aged, slightly overweight female trainer with a thick Colombian accent — banked $250k a year. She was at the top of her field because she knew her shit, plain and simple.

Alex_Koch/Pixabay “The quicker you hit your fitness goals, the quicker I hit my financial ones. So pick that up. Now”

The Gym’s Business Model Is Completely Dependent On Your Lack Of Motivation

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I can confirm some of the stuff Cracked joked about in this video: We really do count on a certain percentage of members signing up but not using the facility. If most gyms were used by anything close to the full roster of members, they’d be way beyond capacity. One time, a major blizzard back in the early 2000s basically shut down the city, but we stayed open. Scores of lapsed members, with nothing else to do and against all expectations, made their way through our doors. It was the busiest day that gym ever had, there wasn’t nearly enough equipment for everyone, and it was a goddamn madhouse. Luckily, it’s pretty hard to get trampled in a treadmill stampede.

Capitol Records Treadmill-related injuries have dropped drastically ever since OK Go canceled their membership.

Beyond tricking the masses into memberships they’ll never use, we’re supposed to sign clients up for personal sessions because that’s where the real money is. An hour of personal training might cost upward of $100, more than a whole month of gym membership. So once we’ve got people in the fitness room, we tell them the gym itself will do nothing for them, and they need one-on-one time if they want to improve. Not because of our knowledge, necessarily: The true selling point of a personal trainer is having to look somebody in the face and promise you’ll come to the gym at a specific time and date. It’s harder to stay on the couch when you’ve made that personal and financial commitment.

mastermilmar/iStock “You know what, just give me your wallet. You need to earn it back.”

Sometimes they do fight dirty with your willpower, though. Right after 9/11, the fitness manager gave us this long-winded speech and included a line he wanted us to tell potential clients: The reason so many people died during 9/11 was that they were not fit enough to escape the buildings. It’s a terrible argument, from what I heard. I never got around to using it, because hell is basically one big steam room — can you imagine how much semen is on the floor? No thanks.

Personal Trainers’ Advice Can Harm You

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Here are the subjects a qualified trainer can speak on, ideally with a pumping dance beat backing them up: posture and movement, muscular strength and endurance, athletic performance, cardiovascular conditioning, and flexibility. That’s the ideal list, remember — we may not know anything about any of that stuff. We may just look rockin’ in spandex. Whatever the case, we are most certainly not authorities on nutrition, rehabilitation, or anything medical. Yet in every gym you’ll find trainers happy to advise you on all of those things no matter how disastrous the consequences.

gpointstudio/iStock “No, no, not the muscles, that’s a common myth. You have to eat another man’s heart to gain his strength.”

I know one trainer whose client was struggling (due to trainer incompetence, mostly), so he said, “Tell your doctor you have asthma and have them give you a prescription for Advair. That will help you with your cardio.” There was another who thought they were qualified to give diet advice to a diabetic. One client wanted to get in shape for her August wedding, so her trainer put her in a sauna suit to run on the treadmill the morning of the wedding to fit into her dress. And then there was the trainer who decided to fix a client’s back pain using “core exercises” that obviously just made the pain worse. We barely dodged a lawsuit on that one.

Even I’m not immune to the occasional climb up my own ass. I used to tell clients doing bench presses to touch the barbell to their chests. Then I learned this was shredding up their shoulder joints, so I stopped, but others still insist on it. Leg extensions are what everyone uses to build their quads, but I tell people not to because they’re ruining their knees in the process — you’ll still see a shiny leg extension machine in every gym. One trainer will tell you the lat pull has to go behind the neck, and I’ve seen that do terrible things to people’s shoulders long-term, but I’ve heard other trainers insist that doing it in front of chest, like I say to, is also bad.

Gennadiy Kravchenko/iStock It’s only a matter of time before it gets blamed for autism and gun violence.

You’ll never know who’s right until you screw yourself up doing it wrong.

Gym Employees Might Slip You Steroids

Dario Lo Presti/iStock

At one gym I worked at, the first Monday of every month, a guy in a suit would show up, change into workout gear, and take a black backpack into the gym with him. The man, who we dubbed “the doctor,” would do a 30-minute session. At some point, he would casually place the backpack somewhere behind the pull-up station, and the fitness manager would later take it with him into the office. For the next week, all the Terminator-looking guys walked in to the fitness manager’s office when the sales manager wasn’t around. I got the feeling they weren’t discussing that quarter’s revenue.

Ozimician/iStock “Oh my god, I finally saw Hamilton, and let me tell you, totally worth the wait!“

One trainer I know sends his clients to a doctor at an anti-aging clinic, advising them to claim that they’re suffering from low testosterone. The doctor then runs a series of tests which magically confirm this, and the client, whose only real symptom is a lack of swoleness, skips away with a legal prescription for testosterone. You can even get your insurance to pay for shrinking your testicles.

In The End, The Gym Is Selling An Impossible Fantasy

Milan Stojanovic/iStock

Cracked has told you over and over that the number of people who lose a large amount of weight and keep it off is statistically zero. Now, I have worked with people who’ve transformed their bodies in phenomenal ways, so I’m not going to say it’s impossible to lose weight, but it is much harder than most people think. A large part of that is because the fitness routines we prescribe you are unsustainable, and we know this. Most people will get through the first few days of a training routine just fine, and we’ll tell them it will get easier, but in reality, it gets harder. If it starts to get easier, you’ll stop seeing results. And anytime you take on a new project, whether it’s starting a fitness routine or a custom dildo business, it steals from something else in your life.

Eva K./Wiki Commons “In the end, it was my free time with my kids that I was really giving the shaft to.”

I try not to set unrealistic expectations: During my first meeting with a client, I extract as much info as possible on the person’s lifestyle, mindset, goals, and exercise history, then try drafting a plan they can actually follow. But if gyms everywhere told clients the truth — that there is no finish line; you can never say, “OK, now I have a six-pack, so I’m finished with my body and now I can focus all of my time on video games”; that maintaining that six-pack is now your part-time job for the rest of your life; and the older you get, the more work it will take — a billion-dollar industry would disappear overnight. Forget rising health-insurance premiums — that’s how fat would cripple the economy.

Ryan George hosts The GymWits podcast and has a new book out, Freeweight Training Anatomy. Follow Ryan Menezes on Twitter for stuff cut from this article and other things no one should see.

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