Biding Time

I'm a romantic really.

Nobody would think so, and I couldn't blame them for that. One doesn't usually
associate terrorist with romantic. Murderer. Well maybe they do. Passionate crimes all,
I suppose. Although mine weren't always. Sometimes I was just doing my job. But
that's my cross to bear.

We're not in love.

I could love her, I think. No, I'm sure of it. I could easily love her, but that's not how
she wants it, and I don't argue. She's a friend. She stays with me sometimes, when she's
got no place else to go. She knocks and I answer and sometimes we fuck and sometimes
we don't. I don't pay for it anymore, she won't take my money, but I give her more than
she needs for cab fare and I have to hope she eats with it too.

I've got nothing going on anymore. Leftover money from one of Erik's bank accounts
that I cleaned out is keeping me sustained, but I've got nothing to do. It's not like I can
waltz down the street and hand in my resume to the nearest crime boss. Henchmen
needed? Good mechanic, terrific assassin, ruthless killer… not to mention green. No,
I'm not sure what my lot in life is supposed to be without Erik to give it direction. Sort
of makes me question the whole business. What did I think was going to happen?

Fight hard. Die young.

Well yes. That's what I figured. Counted on. Only, I didn't die. And that's why I'm
left completely confused and not sure how to proceed. Who'd have thought I'd live past
twenty? Twiddling my thumbs like some…I don't know…shut in.

I shift on the bed and feel one of her horns graze my shoulder. They're not sharp, but
rounded at the tip and she loves it when I rub the base of them. I'm a quick learner if
nothing else, and I found it of some importance to learn how to please a woman. I lay
there, staring at the ceiling, trying to decide if I want to wake her or let her sleep. She
doesn't sleep near enough, but who does? Even with all this time on my hands I rarely
get eight hours a night. I'm just too tense.

When I shift again her hand slides up my bare chest and that's enough to get me going.
The arm that's around her, reaches up to cradle the back of her head and start slow circles
with my fingers around one of the horns I find there. She moans before she even wakes
up. That makes me smile.

My other hand goes to cup a breast and rub my thumb over the sensitive nipple, bringing
it to attention.

"mmm…Mort?" Her eyes still haven't even opened yet. God that's sexy.

"Yeh, love?" My lips have found the base of her neck and I'm working hard at giving her
a nice wake up call.

"You're poking me," Her eyes open then and she fixes me with an amused smirk.

"Heh. Sorry," So I am, dick hard and at attention, pressing demandingly into her hip.

Then she shifts over me, nuzzling me as she straddles my body. I'm staring up at that
smirk I find familiar and attractive even though I'm aware that neither of us is good
looking.

Hell, she's beautiful. Not conventional beautiful. Not what a pretty or a normal would
think was the way to go, but her familiar smile, that naughty look in her eyes. The curve
of her jaw. So female. She could be covered in slime and I'd still think she was
gorgeous.

She positions herself over me, her hand around my cock just for a brief second that
localizes a desperation in my gut, before she presses down over me. I shut my eyes just
reveling in the sensation as she slowly comes down, enveloping me in tight wet heat. I
don't know how a working girl can stay so tight, but she is.

My hands find her hips and I'm groaning, and trying to thrust up, but when she's on top
she's in charge. She shakes her head and stays perfectly still. She likes to make me beg.
Mean like that. It gets me off like none other.

"No moving," she commands, and I give her a pleading whine.

She slaps me.

I knew she would. God damn I love that. My cock twitches inside her at the sharp pain
and that gets her started. Thighs work, lifting her up and bringing her back down, rolling
her hips expertly. I'm just here for the ride.

I'll probably flip her over before we're through and pound her into the mattress, because
I've got my own control issues, but for now I just lay back and watch her ride me.
Nothing sexier than a woman who knows what she's doing. The curve of her neck as she
throws her head back, breathing in little gasps, and I can't see them but I know her eyes
are closed. In the zone. Her hands on my chest to steady herself as she grinds down on
me.

When she's on top I'm not allowed to touch her. Sometimes, when I want some more
pain I try, but she usually makes me regret it. Not just pain but she'll hold out on me,
make me wait for it. My hands tangle in the sheets and I just stare at her. Sometimes I
wonder if I even need to be there, but she's told me she can't do this with anyone else.
I'm safe.

I always try to hold out as long as I can before I take back control. Sometimes we fight
for it. That's my favorite. I love being fought, my heart thudding, excitement and
pleasure and pain. Perfect.

I reach up suddenly to grab her wrist and try to flip our positions. I never use all my
strength. I hold back. I give her a chance, and I don't really want to hurt her. She
doesn't like pain like I do.

She gives me a glare, coming back from her moment. I bet she was almost there, too.
That makes me grin. She struggles against me for a moment, but when I get her back to
the bed she relents and I've won.

One hand cradles the back of her head, fingers spread around the horns there, the other
hand squeezes a full tit and I'm plowing into her like I've never fucked before. Her legs
go around my waist and I feel the clench of strong thighs and she pushes back at me even
as I thrust into her.

My eyes shut and I press my face into her shoulder and pick up the pace, it's getting
serious, getting close. I need to come.

"Lex," I beg.

She knows what I want. Sharp nails dig into my back, deep and hard. I've got scratches
you wouldn't believe. When I feel the slick blood running down my spine I climax.
Every. Fucking. Time.

I keep moving, spurting deep within her body, my breathing hoarse in my own ears. She
still hasn't come yet. Damn it. I part my lips, forehead still pressed against her
collarbone, and slither my tongue down her body to reach for her clit.

She stiffens immediately, usually it takes a little longer, but I don't mind, because I'm
about spent. Her hands grasp at my back, at my shoulders, as she shudders, her pussy
clenching around my rapidly softening cock.

"Mmm," I mumble against her skin, and she laughs, stroking my hair.

"Love that tongue."

I grin against her, and push myself up to look at her, "Baby I love your whole package."

"What a line," She gives me a playful smack.

No, it's not love. But it's good. Reassuring. At least in this world where I'm near
useless I can help her get off. I roll off of her, onto my back, blood staining my sheets,
not for the first time.

I glance over at her.

Not for the last.