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hihomeghere · 7 months

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One Bed : Five Hargreeves / F!Reader

Part of the Tesoro Series (Can be read as a one shot)

Word Count : 3.7K Summary : After a failed mission with the commission, both you and Five find a hotel to rest in. The only problem is, you'll have to share a bed. Aged up!Five. ( I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters ) Warnings : Smut, cursing, mentions of headaches

“Damn It!” You groaned, leaning on your knees, your chest heaved. You changed back into yourself. Happy to be back in your body instead of a very hairy man with a limp. Your head pounded, you should have been more careful. After barely getting any sleep last night you should have known better than to push your abilities. You coughed, spitting bile out onto the pavement in front of you. A crackle of blue light appeared next to you before Five flew out of the portal. He was equally out of breath.

“Where did they go?” He turned to you, throwing his hands up.

“I don’t know,” you spit glaring at him, your emotions running high, “he disappeared.” You waved in front of you. Your lungs screamed, drinking in oxygen in deep breaths, letting your lungs inflate to their limit before breathing out again.

“Disappeared?” He yelled, whipping his head to look at you. His hair falling out of his neat side part. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a strangled scream.

“Where were you huh?” You hissed, narrowing your eyes “You could have blinked after him if you were here!” He glared at you, his face scrunched into a sour expression.

“God you are unbelievable!” He groaned, clenching his fists. His hands glowed blue before fizzling out, “I pushed myself too hard, I barely made it back to you!” You huffed rolling your eyes. Fighting would get you nowhere, Five loved arguing. When there was a fire lit in him he was an eternal flame, furning for days on end. Once you had stolen his favorite coffee mug, for no other reason than he had said something to piss you off. That was a week of hell you never wanted to relive.

“Look,” you took a breath, “we’re both tired, let’s just go find a hotel and get some rest.” You put your hands up in defeat.

He clenched his jaw, the muscle tightening. He huffed looking around.

“Fine, but you’ll follow my plan tomorrow, got it?” He pointed a finger at you. You didn’t know if it was his age, but the way he would scold you like a child drove you insane.

“Fine.” You said through gritted teeth. “Shall we?” You asked motioning to your parked car. He moved past you, hitting your shoulder as he went. You sighed following him, hurt blooming in your chest. You hung your head as you walk to the car.

He stopped, turning back to look at you. You didn’t have the best poker face, not with him at least. You looked down at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes. He bit his lip, guilt washing over him in waves.

Five had always been in agreement with himself, being alone in the apocalypse there was no room for second guessing. It was live or die every second of every day. When a simple infection from a paper cut could have as easily killed him as a broken bone, Five was always thinking ten steps ahead. Even after the commission picked him up his survival instincts hadn’t fully gone away. Whether he was in the field or not, his primal instincts still had him making decisions quickly and with no room for reflection. This was his way of life, learning layouts of offices, the nearest escape routes. Until you barged into his life.

With you, Five was constantly second guessing his actions. Normally he wouldn’t have given a shit if he was abrasive, cold or unfriendly. He didn’t come to make friends, he came to save the world. He had a job to do, and more importantly a plan. To get back to his family and stop the apocalypse. You were never a part of that plan. He had already calculated his steps when you came in throwing in three more steps to an already difficult dance. Sashaying your way into his life and heart.

He walked in front of you, cursing himself as he opened up the door of the 1977 Isuzu Gemini SL Coupe. He gave you a small smile as you got in. He closed the door behind you before walking to the driver side and getting in.

You drove in silence, leaning your head on the window. It throbbed from having to change into so many people. You rubbed your temple, praying for a shower and a warm bed.

Five’s hands gripped the wheel, he was spent. His body ached and the cramp in his shoulder was getting worse as he drove. The stress probably wasn’t helping. He stole glances at you every once and awhile. The only thing illuminating your face was the street lights as he passed under them.

He sighed under his breath, he shouldn’t have snapped at you. And it’s not like he was mad at you, he was mad at himself. He had let the guy get away, he had been worried about your safety. He had lost you at the beginning of the warehouse. The whole time he had been jumping around looking for you instead of the target. He knew he had made a mistake, using his powers for his personal gain instead of the mission. If the handler only knew, he would never be assigned with you again. Good thing she didn’t. As much as he tried to deny it he had started to enjoy working with you. You helped him maintain his humanity, like Delores had. You two were very similar, both kind, selfless, always thinking ahead. He admired your ability to stay true to your heart, even in your line of business.

He pulled off into a parking lot. Passing the glowing red sign that blinked vacancy. He rolled into a parking spot, putting the car in park. You both sat in silence, you sighed looking into the hotel lobby.

“I-“ Five started before cutting himself off, you raised your head looking at him. He stared straight ahead, his hand lazily draped on the wheel. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his gaze dropped to his lap.

“It’s ok.” You said touching his arm, “We’re both tired and overworked.” You looked over at him, your head throbbed. You shut your eyes covering them with your hand.

“Is it your head?” He asked, looking over at you. You nodded tears pricking in your eyes, “Hey, let’s get inside.” He said squeezing your shoulder. You nodded, wiping away tears that slipped past your eyelashes. Five opened the door, stepping out of the car. You followed him into the hotel lobby, the bell ringing as Five opened the door.

You winced, sitting down on a leather chair. The fake leather had started to crack, you mindlessly picked at the flakes. The orange carpet under your shoes had multiple stains, you wrinkled your nose in disgust.

Five walked up to the counter, his hand hovered over the bell before he looked back at you. He put his hand back into his pocket and leaned on the counter.

“Hello?” He said looking around. An older man walked out, he had a full unkempt mustache. Frizzy hair to his jaw, his tall body squeezed into a tweed suit. “One room please.” He said handing him twenty bucks. The man nodded, plucking a key off the wall behind him. He handed it to him, Five turned the red pass over in his hands. He walked back over to you, your head in your hands. His heart squeezed in his chest, he needed to get you to bed. He gently shook your shoulder. “Come on,” he said, helping you to your feet. You gripped his bicep, leaning on him. Any sense of pride had left your body when your headache started. He led you to your room, putting the key in the hole. He had to jiggle it slightly before the lock gave out.

Fives face fell as he took in the room. Only one bed.

“Damn it.” He muttered, shaking his head, you walked over to the bed. Sinking down onto it as you reached down to untie your shoes. “I’ll sleep on the floor.” He said matter of factly, sighing.

“Five.” He looked into your tired eyes. “We’re both adults, just take the other side of the bed.” You shrugged off your suit jacket, pushing yourself off the bed. You pulled out a hanger and hung your suit jacket up. You unzipped your pants, Five felt heat creep up his neck. You had undressed in front of him before, why did this bother him so much? You unbutton your blouse, hanging it up as well. God, your head hurts. It was no longer throbbing, but pounding.

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” You mumbled walking to the bathroom.

Five sat down on the edge of the bed. He untied his shoes, setting them down next to the bedside table. He listened to the shower turn on, your soft voice humming as the rings of the shower curtain scraped across the metal bar. Five swallowed, his mind started to wander. He imagined you washing your body. The suds over your breasts, letting out a sigh of relief as the hot water washed over you. He felt his dick jump in his pants. He pictured your hands traveling lower down your body, over your soft stomach, reaching between your legs. His dick was standing at attention now. He had a good couple minutes before you would be out. He reached down, rubbing himself through his pants. He could only imagine your hands instead of his, your hot breath fanning over his neck, lips, ear. He leaned back, letting his back hit the bed. He tugged at his belt, undoing the buckle. He unbuttoned his pants pulling them down with his underwear. His dick, no longer confined to his pants, sprung free onto his stomach. He spit into his hand, lubricating his dick. He ran his palm over the tip, once, twice, before he noticed the water had turned off. He quickly pulled his pants back up, buttoning them. He stood up walking over to the window, pulling back the thin green curtain. Trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

You opened the door. Your hair still slightly damp, you had a fluffy robe wrapped around your body. He turned slightly to look at you. You smiled at him, the windows low light illuminating him perfectly. He was reminiscent of a painting of an angel, the hotel sign acting as holy rays behind him. He stood tall, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“All yours.” You sighed happily, throwing yourself onto the shitty mattress. The box spring whined as your body hit it. He nodded before taking a couple steps to the bathroom.

You laid back, combing through your hair with your fingers. You slipped under the covers, the throbbing in your head was now only a slight ache. You heard the water turn on, and shut off after a few minutes. Five opened the door, a towel hung low on his waist. Your eyes traveled down his body, for his toned chest to his firm stomach. You took in all his scars, one above his belly button, it looked like an old knife wound. Your eyes traveled further to his v, a small patch of hair leading from his chest to his hips. You looked away, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. He was drying his hair with a towel so thankfully he didn’t see you ogling him. He walked over to the bed, pulling the covers back. He sank down, the bed dipping with his weight. He laid back, his arm brushing against yours. Electricity flew up your arm.

“Night.” You said softly, he hummed in response. You rolled over, away from him. Looking out the window, listening to his breathing.

When you woke up, it was still dark. The sun hadn’t come up but the sky was turning more of a light blue. You felt Five’s warm arm wrapped around your waist, and Five’s breath fanning across your neck. His hand was splayed out over your stomach, holding you tightly against him. You sighed contently, enjoying the closeness to the man you had come to develop feelings for. Although any pure thoughts disappeared when he rolled his hips against your ass. A low groan left his throat, which seemed to shoot directly to your core.

You froze, you could feel his erection pressing against you. Experimentally you rolled your hips back into his, he moaned nuzzling your neck.

The angel on your shoulder yelled in your ear to wake him up. You savored the feeling, trying to memorize exactly how he felt against you, saving the memory for a later time when you were alone in your apartment, before you nudged him slightly.

“Hmmm?” He mumbled into your ear.

“Five, wake up.” You said nudging him again. He jolted up, taking in the situation.

“Oh god,” he said, pulling away from you, his voice gravely from sleep. “Jesus, I didn’t mean, if I’ve made you uncomfortable in any way I-“ he groaned, running a hand over his face.

“Five. It’s ok,” You said, pulling his hand away. Looking at him in the low light, he was breathless, a light layer of perspiration on his body. Your mouth watered as you took him in. “If you wanted to, I wouldn't be opposed…” you trailed off your eyes locking onto his face. He froze, his lips slightly parted. He tilted his head, his brows furrowing. He stared down at his hands, deep in thought. “I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything.” He said softly, you smiled. For a man who was always so self-assured, he seemed so unsure of himself.

“I’m offering. This is just to get some relief, no strings attached.” You said biting your lip, you untied your robe. Letting it fall around your body. Now having no protection from the cold night air, you felt your nipples harden. Five’s eyes raked over your body, you felt yourself grow hot under his gaze. He stared at you like you were a cool glass of water in the apocalypse.

Five was sure he had been murdered in his sleep. There was no possible reality where you were all but throwing yourself at him. All Five wanted to do was ruin you and make you his. Make you crave him as much as he craved you. He couldn’t remember the last time he had even had sex, possibly in his early days at the commission, but only to get his dick wet. He didn’t care about those girls, now you on the other hand were something special. And you were naked, in his bed.

“Right, no strings attached.” He repeated back to you. His fingers twitched and you could feel his hesitation. You grabbed one of his hands, squeezing it gently. You brought his hand up to your breast, he let out a shaky breath, his eyes finding yours for confirmation. You leaned forward to nibble his neck, kissing over the bites. He shivered his body tensing, you grinned your breath fanning over his jaw. He pinched one of your nipples, smirking as you gasped. He ducked his head, his mouth covering your other nipple, his tongue flicking the bud. Your hand tugged on his hair, he sighed around your breast.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He groaned, you chuckled looking up at him through your eyelashes. His erection was now painfully stretching against his underwear, you grabbed him through his boxers. He let out a pained noise, like he was being stabbed instead of pleasured. He was puddy in your hands, ready to be shaped anyway you wished. He pushed you back against the bed. In a sudden shift in dominance, his lips found your neck, kissing and nipping slightly. You bucked against his body, your nipples rubbing slightly against his bare chest. His hands mapped a path down your body, like he was trying to memorize it. Unbeknownst to you he was. His fingers found your clit, testing the waters. You gasped, your hand finding its way into his hair. You pulled at his scalp slightly, earning a low groan from him. He slipped one finger inside you, curling it as he thrusted it inside you. You moaned softly, any pain from your headache was now long gone. He added a second finger, his eyes never leaving your face. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted to cower under his gaze or beg for more. Your skin was ablaze, Five’s touch was electric, his incredibly eager fingers thrusting and curling inside you. You gripped the sheets, pleasure building in your stomach. That familiar coil tightening inside of you.

He pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips, sucking them clean. “Shit, you’re sweet.” He hummed, swiping the head of his dick down your folds, lubricating himself with your slick. You both shuddered as his velvety soft tip found your entrance.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked softly, his other hand rubbing light circles on your thigh. You hadn’t expected him to be so doting, tales circulated around the commission of the absolute animal Five was in bed. But as his green eyes peered into yours, you could put those rumors to rest. You felt entirely bare, like he was peeling back the layers of your soul. The alarm bells had been ringing in your ears, this man was a killer. He was a survivor, stepping on anyone he had to, to get to where he was. He was a mercenary, follower of no moral code, but if he was all of these things why did he hold you like you were made of glass?

“Yes.” You said, propping yourself up on your elbows. He lowered his gaze pushing the head of his cock in slowly. You both let out a moan, he hissed, baring his teeth.

“Christ you’re tight.” He sighed his eyes squeezing close. His hands gripped your hips, his nails dug in leaving crescent shaped marks. Although you couldn’t seem to care, you had never felt so full in your life. Your hands gripped his thighs for dear life, a strangled cry left your throat as he thrust all the way in, knocking the breath out of your lungs. He stilled, a blissed out smile on his lips. You wiggled your hips, trying to get any stimulation from him.

“Fuck me.” You whined, grabbing his face, forcing you to look at him. His eyes widened before a devilishly handsome smile split his face.

“Yes ma’am.” He started a slow rhythm, his dick spearing you every time he thrusted into you. Long, hard strokes. His cock rubbed at the spongy part inside of you and you mewled. “You like that, sweetheart?” He teased a mischievous glint in his eye, you couldn’t help but nod, stroking his ego along with his cock. He took the lead titling your hips up, throwing one of your legs over his shoulders. You needed him closer. Gripping at any part of him you could get your hands on, your nails raking down his back. He moaned, breathy and high pitched. Your breath was stolen out of your chest as he quickened his pace, going deeper than before.

“Oh fuck, Five.” You groaned holding onto his shoulders, your tits bouncing.

“You’re gripping me so good tesoro.” He grimaced, his eyes fluttering close. He let out a strangled cry against your leg. Biting down harshly before kissing your calf. You yelped fingernails digging into his thighs.

“I’m close, I’m so close.” You babbled tears slipping down your cheeks, every part of you was screaming out in pleasure. This spurred him on, one of his hands traveled between the two of you rubbing tight circles on your clit. You swore you saw stars, your toes curled and you couldn’t help the high pitched whine that ripped its way out of your throat. He leaned forward, his body looming over yours. His arms effectively trapping you underneath him. Working you through your orgasm as he grinded his hips against you, using your leg as leverage.

“I’m not gonna last.” He mumbled his forehead resting against yours, wincing slightly. You grinned, reveling in the fact that you had such an effect on him.

“Cum then.” You said before sucking a deep purple mark on his neck. You felt his breath catch in his throat against your lips.

“S-shit.” He thrusted hard into you, “you’re so fucking perfect,” He moaned his hips stuttering as he came. “Oh god I love you.” You froze, he loved you? He stopped, pulling out almost immediately. “I don’t know why I said that.” He recoiled, putting as much distance as he could between the two of you. He grabbed his discarded towel, covering himself with it as he stumbled off the bed. You pulled the sheet up, covering your breasts.

“Five it’s fine,” you said sitting up.

“No. It’s not.” He growled, the sudden shift in his demeanor made you recoil. You pulled the sheet tighter around your body, suddenly all too aware of your nudity. “This never should have happened.” He motioned between the two of you.

“It’s just sex. It’s not like you meant it!” You justified, your voice higher than you intended.

He stopped, the outline of his body harsh against the street lamp outside. His head turned slightly, allowing you to see only part of his face. You could see him mentally building his walls back up, brick and mortar in his eyes.

“Five, it’s not like you meant it.” You said it more as a question than a statement, hating the slight waver in your voice. His body tensed as he sucked in a breath, he raised his shoulders.

“No. I must have been thinking of someone else.” He said coolly. Ouch. The air was sucked out of the room as he stormed into the bathroom. Slamming the door behind him. Your heart broke in your chest, slicing up your insides. You swallowed thickly, your mind struggling to keep up with Five’s constant whiplash. One minute he’s taking you to the gates of heaven only to taunt you as he drags you back to hell.

This was all your fault, you put your head in your hands. You shouldn’t have suggested anything and just lived with the constant sexual tension.

No strings attached your ass.

part two here

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #smut #the handler #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #alison hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #tua x reader #five hargreeves smut #one shot #hihomeghere

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badkitty3000 · 2 months

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Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

As always, I am open to requests. Thank you!

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

“Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.

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