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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 months

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He's My Man (Part 4)

Summary: The reader and Russell's flirting finally boils over as they come to a decision about what path they want to go down together. But their happy bubble is about to burst...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 3,900ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, angst, fluff, smut, stalker

A/N: Ahhh! 👀

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Russell Shaw growling against the column of your throat was enough to make anyone spread their legs in your defense. You didn’t mean for things to get so heated so fast. You were only supposed to do this if you were the real deal, right?

Well, that thought went out the window when Russell dropped to his knees and unceremoniously yanked your pants and underwear clean off. Large hands splayed on your thighs, Russell smirking up through his lashes at you.

“Y-You just going to kneel there all pretty or what?” you asked, voice more than a few octaves higher than normal.

“Oh, I can do a lot on my knees,” he teased. He slid his hands under your thighs, slipping around the tops of them. His fingertips dug into the flesh harshly and then he was pulling you forward so fast you nearly fell off the top of the counter. You heart nearly lept from your chest when he buried his head between your legs, an ungodly yelping sound escaping your lips.

You could fucking feel him wearing that damn smirk as he devoured you.

“Russ,” you breathed out, hands shooting to his hair, his tongue toying with your clit in wonderfully torturous circles. He encouraged you, gripping your legs harder, bring you closer, practically suffocating him.

A deep coil of pressure was building in your core, Russell leaving your clit for only the briefest moment to taste between your folds.

“Fucking f-fuck, Shaw. D-don’t tease,” you shuddered when his tongue returned to your clit, more pressure behind it. You could feel yourself building faster, skin flush. You tugged on his strands, Russell groaning against you. The sound made your toes curl and you did it again, Russell tightening his hold on you. Your skin would be littered with his touch for days and god, that made you want it all the more.

He zeroed in your clit with a ferocity that had you on the edge of orgasm, the sharp peak of pleasure right there. You felt that smirk again and with a singular flick of his tongue, you were coming. Hard. And he didn’t fucking stop. Your orgasm went on and on and on, your legs squeezing him, determined to rip every ounce of pleasure this man could deliver out.

But Russell still didn’t stop torturing you. He just kept going, tongue swiping circles over your sensitive clit until your felt a fast build and were exploding again, your jaw dropping in a silent scream. You were shaking when he licked a final line through your folds, skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. Russell easily pulled your legs away from him so he could sit back on his heels, staring up at you as he licked his lips.

He smirked when he rose, watching your chest rise and fall quickly. He leaned in close and held up your soaked lilac underwear, dangling it off one finger.

“How’s my queen of darkness doing?” Your heart was still hammering in your chest, Russell smiling as usual when he brushed his lips to your ear. “You think you’re speechless now? Just wait until I get a chance properly worship you.”

“Jesus fuck, Russell.” You stared up at him with big, satisfied, scared as hell eyes. But Russell was more than pleased with that reaction it seemed since he landed a sweetly possessive kiss against your lips. He grasped your chin with his thumb, turning you into it before letting you have a fleeting taste of control. He pulled back and winked, gently setting the underwear in your lap.

“I’m going to buy you that matching bra. Lilac is so your color,” he grinned, licking his lips as he looked down to where you were exposed to the room, slowly dragging his eyes back up. He whistles as he went over to the fridge and took out a bag of tomatoes. “I’m going to get started on the soup.”

“T-The soup?” you asked, shakily planting your feet on the ground, one hand on the counter, the other gripping the underwear.

“I was going to make you grilled cheese, remember? Tomato soup is a given. Always better from scratch.” You blinked slowly, Russell chuckling and ruffling your hair. “Why don’t you go take care of yourself and I’ll be here when you’re all done. Alright?”

“You don’t want me to…” you glanced down at the tent in his sweats, Russell frowning.

“This ain’t a quid pro quo household. We have all the time in the world for that and right now, all I want to do is continue making this the best damn lunch of your life.” He slipped past and turned on a small radio on the counter, taking his phone out and tapping a few times before Taylor Swift started playing through the speakers. You spun around, Russell staring back. “Yes?”

“Nothing. I’ll be back.” You scurried out of the kitchen, shaking your head as Russell turned the volume up. With one last glance over your shoulder, you watched him bopping along, back to you as he started to dice up the tomatoes.

Who the fuck was this guy?

Ten minutes later, you were exiting the shower after rinsing the sweat off your skin. You stood wrapped in a bath sheet in Russell’s master suite, finding a door to a walk in closet after a moment. You’d grabbed a new pair of underwear before washing up, this one a deep green that matched Russell’s eyes. But you needed some new clothes and, well, you were pretty sure he wouldn’t mind.

It was easy enough to find some joggers on a shelf cubby but Russell had an obnoxious amount of shirts for a guy. Dress shirts. Flannels. Henleys. Sweaters. Yeah, Russell was a fucking cable knit sweater guy and you were really struggling with why the hell he was single at this point.

But in his band shirts, specifically the tour ones because this man’s organizational skills rivaled Martha Stewart, you found one that made you grin.

You threw it on, sans bra, and exited back to the kitchen. Russell was working over a pot on the stove, stirring something delicious smelling with a wooden spoon. Unfortunately, he wasn’t shirtless or wearing that zip up anymore.

But the tight white t shirt made his shoulders and biceps look massive. Yeah, you were okay with this look.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” you teased, walking around the island and joining him at his side. You hummed your approval at the creamy looking soup that was simmering.

“Ah, ah,” he said, pushing on your forehead with a single finger, his concentration on the soup as he stirred it. “Don’t bribe me with compliments. I thought I told you to relax.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, patting his ass as you went past. Russell stifled a groan as you sat at one of the stools at the island, criss crossing your legs. “You like that, Russ? When I do what you say? Sir?”

“Sir’s going to spank your ass later for that.” You laughed lightly, Russell debating something it seemed before he added more salt and then nodded. He gave it one last stir and then put the spoon down, turning to you with a smile. “You into that kind of thing, Qark?”

“Qark?” you asked. He shrugged as he left the kitchen for the bar cart nearby, picking up a decanter and pouring two glasses.

“See, I love your nickname but queen of darkness doesn’t roll off the tongue all the time. Therefore, Qark for short.” You raised your eyebrows when he handed you the drink. “If you don’t like it-”

“You’re sweet.” You smiled, taking hold of his free hand with yours. “I like it. The nickname and whiskey.”

“Figured you would.” He set his glass on the counter, cocking his head. “My Eras tour shirt. Interesting choice.”

“Did you actually go to the tour?” He grinned, taking his glass and going to the other side of the island. “Really? On a date or something?”

“One of my friends had floor tickets, invited a few of us guys after his wife and friends got sick. Not ashamed to admit I’m a swiftie now.”

“You’re really something else, aren’t you.” Russell cocked his head. You grasped your drink with both hands. “I just mean…you’re ex-special ops. You do black ops now. You grew up in the middle of nowhere with a dad that taught you how to survive. You’re not supposed to be so…not toxic.”

“I’ll admit I’ve spent some time in the dark corners of life.” He took a long drink and swallowed, his eyes full of softness and wonder when he met yours. “You know why I call you the queen of darkness?”

“My cheery personality?” you joked. Russell smiled, leaning his forearms against the counter over at you.

“Queen’s run shit. Yeah, your life was fucked but you were so…bright.” You laughed, sipping from your glass. “I’m serious. You with your fucked up life loved your coffee. Did you know you savor every sip and smile after each one? You love your danishes like it’s the best thing on earth. You worked for a mob and wore yellow imported pajamas that are the softest thing I’ve ever touched. Your house was so warm and cozy. Soft lights. Candles. You had a romcom on and were having a pizza and beer for dinner like a date night for yourself. You’re the queen of darkness because it could have ruined you. It could have destroyed you. But you owned it, you ran that shit into the ground and you fucking glowed through it all.”

A response caught in your throat, Russell reaching out, resting his hand over yours.

“I can’t imagine how bright you’re going to shine now that you’re free of all of that my little Qark.”

“Why me?” you whispered, letting him lace your fingers together.

“A king needs a queen,” he whispered, squeezing your hand. “My dark corners are a bit brighter since I met you.”

“We barely know each other,” you whispered.

“To be fair, most couples don’t know each other when they starts out so we’re ahead of the game if you think about it.” You lowered your head with a tiny smile. “We know the important bits.”

“I suppose we do.” You squeezed his hand in return, Russell nodding with a smile. “Look at you. Got a freeloading unemployed girlfriend living in your house. You really got it going on.”

“Hell yeah I do.” He lifted your hand, kissing the back of it. “We’ll go slow. Let you get some faith in me first.”

“Thank you, Russell,” you said.

“Don’t have to thank me for that,” he said before standing tall and clapping his hands together. “Alright. Let’s make some of those sandwiches.”

You had to admit Russell hadn’t been bragging about making your lunch the best of your life. He cooked a damn good grilled cheese and his homemade soup was worthy of a restaurant. After he packed away the leftovers, you settled outside on the porch near the fire, Russell tucking you in under his arm.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” he asked. You turned your head up, shaking your head.

“I’ve lost a few patients before but I know it’s not the same. Have you…” you asked. Russell hummed, gaze on the continued downpour surrounding you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m not proud of taking lives but I never took one I didn’t absolutely need to if that makes sense.”

“You were a soldier. You doing bad things kept a lot of people safe. You protected them.” He was quiet, his thumb absently rubbing your arm. “Bad guys don’t do what you did for me. You and Colter went out of your way for me. You’re not the monsters you hunt.”

“I know. Sometimes I just worry I’m a black hole for crap. I don’t want you feeling like you’re trading one bad life for another.”

“Black holes don’t go to Taylor Swift concerts or wear sweaters or do extremely dangerous things for strangers because it’s the right thing to do.” He rested his head on your shoulder with a satisfied hum. “You’re good, got it?”

“Yeah. I need to sort out work on Monday. Put in my notice. We both need fresh starts.”

You wrapped an arm around his waist, Russell snuggling closer. “And you cuddle? Come on, there’s got to be something wrong with you.”

“The whole killer thing?” he chuckled.

“No, we’re not doing that shit.” You gripped his chin the same way he had to you earlier, forcing him to look at you. “Understand?”

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I mean there is something I’m not good at if you really want to know.”

“Yeah?” He nodded.

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” he sighed. You ran a hand through his hair, tilting your head.

“I’m sure only you think that. Come on. Couples share secrets and stuff, right?”

“Well…alright,” he sighed, looking up at you with a long drawn out inhale. “I’m really not good at not being perfect at everything. It’s a struggle really to interact with you common folk.”

You lightly punched his bicep as he fell to the side with a fit of giggles. “Russell Shaw!”

“Oh, come on. You lobbed that one up in the air and it was just waiting for me,” he laughed. You flopped yourself on top of him. Meanwhile, Russell only started to giggle again. “Oh no. I’m trapped. Whatever shall I do?”

“You know, Colter don’t talk a whole lot but you get a few beers in the guy and he loosens up,” you said, rolling your head, side to side. You stretched out your arms in front of you, Russell grinning up at you as you straddled his hips. “Apparently, you were incredibly ticklish as a child. Let’s see if that still holds up.”

“Wait! Truce!” he said, holding up his hands, your own just inches from his underarms. You narrowed your eyes, waiting for an explanation.

Approximately two and a half seconds later, you were flat on your back on the couch, staring up at him, Russell smirking as he pinned your wrists down by your head.

“You dirty dog,” you said, Russell brushing his lips against yours. “That is the last time I ever fall for that. You know I’m going to torture you with tickles now. You’ve sealed your fate.”

“I’d rather be tortured in a more…pleasurable way by you. I’ll be a very good boy for you,” he murmured, kissing under your jaw. “I take my punishments very well.”

“Russell,” you groaned. “Do not turn me on again. I wear to god I’m not taking another shower today.”

“We’ll take a raincheck on my punishment,” he said, nipping lightly at your neck. Then he was sitting up and releasing you, holding up his hands. You propped yourself up on your elbows, licking your lips. “Yes, my queen?”

“Why don’t we cool things down for a beat so we can actually take this slow like we mean to.” He sat back further, allowing your space to sit up. “How about I run to the store for a few hours, buy some clothes that actually fit me and you can get some rest too. I know you’ve barely slept in days.”

“I won’t say no to a nap.” He scratched his bandage, pulling it away when you tsked him.

“Don’t rip your stitches. It’s still too early for them to be out. I’ll pick you up some supplies since I doubt you remembered to bring those with you.”

“Thanks,” he said, thunder crackling overhead. “Take my raincoat from the front closet. And be careful driving. Just wait in the store if it’s coming down too hard. And hit the outdoor store for a jacket and-”

“I’ll be fine, Russ. S’just a little rain.” You got up with a stretch and cupped his cheek, tired green eyes softly looking up. “Sleep. I’ll stop by the grocery store on the way back, make us some pasta for dinner later, nice and warm on a chilly night.”

“Yes, mam,” he hummed, turning into your touch before letting you go. “All the big box stores and grocery store are next town over, you drove through it to get here.”

“Got it. I’ll be back soon, Russell.”

“Don’t be too long.”

Three Hours Later

You were happily humming to yourself in the aisle of a semi-busy grocery store. Apparently bad weather didn’t stop the locals from being out and about. You’d hit a clothing store, an outdoor one and had at least a week’s worth of clothing to get you through until you could figure out how to get stuff from back in Virgina to here. You’d ditched Russell’s sweats and jacket for a pair of dark wash jeans and a black rain coat that you weren’t drowning in as you walked the aisles of the large grocery store in search of the pasta section. Your next black rainboots squeaked against the linoleum but as you’d noticed, most everyone you saw out was in a pair.

After a few minutes you found it and started to debate what kind of pasta to make. Was Russell a wine sauce kind of guy? Probably. Mushrooms might be a bit too much for a first meal. People had strong opinions on mushrooms. Maybe something more palatable like some chicken and a few vegetables in a white wine sauce.

“Still talk out loud to yourself I see.” Your heart jumped into your throat when you heard that voice. You turned to the man by your side with a basket in hand, his dark gaze locked on you. “Y/N.”

“Owen,” you breathed out. He looked like shit. His baseball cap and hood did nothing to hide the black eye and split lip. The broken nose and dark bruises under his eyes. The side of his face was littered with deep red, blotchy marks that hadn’t been properly tended to and would leave nasty scars behind. Owen was a creep yet he had been attractive. But the handsome playboy was gone. This Owen was marked and you could feel his new levels of rage radiating off of him under that thin layer of ease.

“You seem surprised to see me.” He reached out and, shockingly, gently tucked your damp hair behind your ear. But his touch gave you no comfort like Russell’s. If there weren’t so many people around, you would have already been running for it. “Don’t worry. You’re safe now.”

“Safe?” you whispered, spotting the gash that hadn’t been stitched near his hairline. He nodded, pressing in close.

“I know Elpine wormed his way into our crew and everything got fucked. I know he had you kidnapped before it all went down so he could keep you after it was all over. He’s dead, baby. They all are. His crew. Ours. There’s no one else left. We can start over out west, maybe even here if you like it. It’ll be different but maybe we needed a change. I was so busy with work and trying to live up to my dad’s memory, I’ve been ignoring you. I wasn’t there for you and I’m sorry. It’ll be different this time.”

You took a step back but Owen’s hand was on your arm, mistaking the fear in your eyes.

“I know, Baby. Change is hard but we’ll get through it. Is the man that took you here? Or did you escape?”

Fuck. You needed to get out of here and back to Russell now.

“I…killed him,” you said quietly, piecing it together as Owen stared right through you. “He was keeping me nearby. In a house. I thought I was all alone and knew I couldn’t go to the police cause of who we are and…so he’s there. He said it was some vacation house so it was abandoned. I was going to lie low there until I figured out my next move. It’s safe.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding a few times. “Okay, good plan. We’ll grab some food and crash there a few days until I can get my hands on my money.”

“How’d you find me?” you braved, Owen tossing the cheapest box of elbows he could find in his basket.

“Oh. I put a tracker in your phone and car years ago just in case someone grabbed you. Hey,” he said, making you flinch. “I know you like to go to your little cafe bakery shit on Saturday mornings so we’ll find a place where you can, alright?”

“Y-You’ve been following me?” you asked, Owen tossing in some off brand spaghetti sauce.

“Hey,” he said with a smile that you assumed was meant to be reassuring but made your stomach turn. “You didn’t want any guys with you so I had to keep tabs on you another way, right? It was a good thing too.”

“Right,” you said, turning around, praying Russell would somehow magically appear at the end of the aisle.

“Where the fuck is the kraft mac and cheese…” he muttered.

“Uh, down the aisle,” you said, forcing yourself to turn around with a smile like he was your savior. “I’m so happy you’re here. I’m going to pop in the baking supplies and get some stuff to make your favorite cookies for my hero.”

“Hell, yeah! Just don’t take too long,” he said. You hummed as you quickly walked past and down a few aisles. You ripped out your phone, dialing fast.

“Well hello, queen of-”

“Owen. Is. Here,” you grit out, looking behind you for any sign of him. “He’s fucked up but he’s alive and he thinks I killed you. I’m taking him back to your place where he thinks we can hide out.”

“He didn’t hurt you did he?” he asked. You closed your eyes, heart relaxing for a beat. That was the difference between the two men right there. One actually cared and the other only about what he thought belonged to him. Owen didn’t even ask if you were okay.

“I’m fine, just shook up at seeing him. I figured if I can get him there, you can get the jump on him?”

“Damn straight I will, my smart girl. Just get him in the house and then make an excuse to go back out to the car. Don’t come in and run if things get sketchy between now and then. Don’t let him see you on the phone.”

“I know. I’m sor-”

“Don’t apologize. It’ll be okay, Qark.” WIth that he hung up and you quickly put your phone away. You barely looked at the box mixes and threw one in the cart before you met up with Owen in the center aisle. He frowned.

“Boxed? You’re not going to make them from scratch?” You resisted the urge to slap him into the next century and spun around, picking out ingredients. Owen wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you tucked into his side. “That’s more like it.”

God, you’d never wanted Russell Shaw more in your life than that moment. You just prayed when you met up with him again, he got the drop on Owen before he got hurt. Or worse.

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A/N: Read the final part here!

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