RISK & REWARD ✔️

31 | 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸

SHE'S got one hand around my neck. I can't see anything, but I know it's her; her nails scrape along the column of my throat, and they're so cold compared to her tongue dragging along the back of my neck.

You're so pretty. Her voice is honey-smooth in my ear, breath hot on my nape. So pretty when I'm chokin' you, yeah? So pretty...so pretty...

I want to moan. I can't, though, with her fingers wrapped over my jugular.

I hope he finds us, she continues, tone growing a vengeful edge. I hope he walks into this fuckin' apartment and finds you under me. I hope he fuckin' does.

I can suddenly see. We're in a familiar, grungy little apartment. We're in Slade's apartment and we're on that once-nice couch and and h'ohh, my god, her teeth pinch at my skin and my head tips back, pleasure sparking up my neck and forcing a low, strangled whine out of my mouth.

You like when I pin you down like this? Her weight grows heavier; I roll almost face-down into the sofa, the smell of something alcoholic and sour and so muskily Slade that encompasses me suddenly heavenly. My eyes roll back as her hips twitch slowly up against mine, one of her legs pinning both of mine to the cushion. Such a whore, you're such a fuckin' whore. Can't handle me sleeping with you, huh?

No. I can't. Her hand massages up and down my throat as I try to look back at her, shivering at the feeling of her mouth dragging over my jaw; her image is blurry as I gasp and manage a shaky "S...Slade, please," legs parting as I try to invite her thigh between them. "Please...please..."

My heart is starting to pound out of my chest, anticipation beginning to course through my veins. The blurry shape of her brow furrows; her eyes narrow, and my tongue feels swollen in my mouth as she tilts her head, flicks her tongue, and asks, "what?"

Her voice suddenly loses its smooth edge. Instead, she sounds confused — and then the scene changes. I'm still looking up at Slade, but the roof isn't that off-white popcorn thing anymore. It's wooden slats and moonlight bleeds through between them and —

"What?" she repeats, brow pinched. "What?"

I stare at her for a long minute, trying to understand what's happening. Where did the...how did we...

"Are you awake?" Slade asks, leaning down so far that I think her nose might touch mine. "Hello?"

Awake?

It was a dream.

It was a probably-soon-to-be wet dream about Slade.

Slade. It was about Slade. It was about Slade, who just so happens to be bent over me with a very concerned look on her face and one arm planted on either side of my head and —

"Yeah!" My voice comes out a lot louder than expected and Slade's face wrinkles at my outburst. "I'm awake. Sorry. Just, uh...I was having a weird ass dream, sorry. Did I...say anything?"

Slade raises a brow. Wrinkles her nose. And, in her best imitation of my voice, she repeats "Slade, please."

Her expression is completely still even as I know damn well my face goes some shade of red and humiliation explodes in my gut. "Oh, that's — I don't remember that, haha, I, uh — sorry, I, um. Sorry. Did I wake you up?"

"I wasn't asleep." She blinks down at me nonchalantly. "Keepin' watch. Remember?"

That's worse. That's so much worse. In that case, she could've heard...more, and...

"That's all I said?"

"S' all I heard." Her face vanishes; there's a shuffle-y sound from behind me as she returns to her spot and turns over, face away from me. "Made a little noise n' then started talking."