No Hard Feelings- Umbrella Academy FIVE X F Reader

Chapter Four: Working with Grorange

You're enjoying a glass of malbec. You haven't changed, wearing the same pencil skirt, blouse and mid heels you wore for work. What are you supposed to wear in this situation? You'd needed the wine to calm your nerves. You've been half aroused, half anxious all day. You're playing music and keep glancing over at the digital display, unconsciously clock-watching.

At 19:58, you hear an impatient knock. Something about it makes you think he's been standing there a while, knocking as much before eight as his pride will allow. Placing your wine glass on the table, you cross to the front door.

Again, he stands in your doorway. Another nondescript suit, the jacket held over one arm and shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow. You wonder briefly if his wardrobe is all black and navy suits, like a cartoon character.

"Wine?" you ask, "I have- "

"Nope."

A flash of light and an electric whoosh and suddenly you're slammed hard into the wall between your kitchen and bedroom. It knocks the wind out of you, but he's on you. He's kissing you too hungrily to allow you to catch your breath. More than once, his teeth graze your lips, hard. He deepens the kiss. Needy, insistent, he pushes you inexorably into the wall, as if he's trying to force your two bodies into one. His long-fingered hands stop caressing your hips, thighs and breasts and come to rest on each side of your head. He scrunches your hair between his fingers and pulls a little harder than playfully.

A low gasp rumbles deep in his throat as he returns to the attack. You take every spare moment he gives you to whoop in air. There aren't many, and they're punctuated by hard bites to the back side of your neck. You can feel him getting more turned on as you let out tiny pained noises in response to his teeth. You know you'll have to wear your hair down for at least the next week.

At last, he comes up for air, breathing hard through his nose. Up until now, it's been his upper body forcing yours flat against the wall. Now, giving you breathing room, he shifts his weight through his pelvis, grinding his crotch into your hip. For the second time, you feel him stiff against you. This time the pressure's firm and absolutely deliberate.

With his brow furrowed in mock wrath, he murmurs:" You made me wait."

He hasn't let go of your hair. You try to say something, but either the breath or the right words don't come. He helps.

"You ok? Color?"

"Gree-orange." you stammer, changing your mind at the last second. It might feel like your entire vulva is on fire, but his ferality was unexpected.

He allows himself a single exhale of laughter, "I can work with grorange. Now, take off your panties. Leave everything else on."

You reach up your skirt and pull your panties down, stepping out of them.

"Good."

Suddenly, abruptly, he pulls your left leg up and around his waist. You overbalance- or would, were he not holding you. You suddenly become aware of his strength. His slight build and structured suit-jackets belie the muscle tone underneath. Looking down, you see the muscles and tendons standing out in his forearms, taught. Almost as if the skin can't contain them.

He pulls you higher and your legs wider apart. He's not gentle and his rough handling splits your skirt up the back seam.

"Five!" you yell, indignant. He responds only by pressing into you harder and allowing your right leg to find the floor. Eyes glinting evilly, he looks you straight in the face as he grabs the torn seam and pulls, ripping your skirt until only the waistband holds it on. He cocks an eyebrow and gives you a grin.

"It was getting in my way."

His hand creeps between your legs.

"God, you're dripping," he loads as much derision as he can into the single word, laughing malevolently.