Punish Her - Redcrackle smut

The Punishment

 TW for questionable??? consent. yeah. dont take this too seriously i literally wrote it after watching soft porn k thas all u may read now .  but like u have been warned.

It took him weeks to track her down. She was like a gypsy- a nomad whose home was her heart and the people she loved, running from Ibiza to Shanghai and every place in between. Two times already he'd been too late, arriving at some unnamed inn, hostel, or hotel with all the signs that she'd been there- her cinnamon scent, a scrap of red fabric- but without Carmen herself to make the clues worthwhile.

The third time was the charm, and Gray caught her as ideally as he possibly could've- alone in a hotel room in some nondescript Slavic city with no apparent hurry to leave. It was jarring for him- seeing her again. The last time their paths had crossed was in Paris, where he'd been too lenient and cocky all at once, something that caused the red rogue to slip from his fingers and nearly cost him his job.

"One last chance," Maelstrom's voice came in his mind, an understated, soothing cadence that caused goosebumps to crawl along Gray's spine. "One last chance to prove your fealty to VILE, Crackle, or so face the consequences."

Gray had bowed his head in the moment, fighting to keep his voice even and clean. "I'll do anything, Professor."

An eerie smile twisted at the older man's lips. "Anything?"

Gray swallowed thickly, the brilliant green lighting of the faculty room suddenly too harsh for his liking. "Anything."

And now here he was, carrying out his promise.

Slipping into the hotel turned out to be relatively easy- he was a master criminal, after all. All it took was knocking some poor, unsuspecting soul out cold and stuffing him in the janitorial closet before stealing his clothing. The uniform was tight at Gray's shoulders and forearms, but he made it work. Becoming one with your undercover identity had been heavily emphasized back in Crime school, so Gray played the role of a simple waiter at the Kyiv Hotel to a Tee. He went from door to door with a cart of food, calling out "Room Service!" in a polished Ukrainian that wavered ever so slightly with the tongue of a non-native speaker.

The words blurred on his lips until finally-finally, he was before the room he had been seeking all along.

Gray took a deep breath, raising his fist to knock. "Обслуга номерів," he repeated as usual, heartbeat quickening in anticipation.