Hope among despair «Chase Graves×Reader» 🔞 ✔️

05

I wake up in the middle of the night, slightly disoriented. Chase is still serving me as a mattress, the lights are on and it's pitch black outside. When I move, I wake him up too. He must be feeling as broken as I am, but as soon as his eyes focus on me, he smiles and I can't help but smile in return.

I fall off of him groggily, covering myself with sheets, a move he copies. We could really use a shower, but it seems we're both too tired and lazy for that. I just snicker at the mess we've made and his eyes glint with the same amusement.

"That was worth the walk of shame I'm about to experience," he sighs with contentment, pulling me closer, locking me in a hug.

"Life's too short to bother with shame, Chase," I reply with a smile, not feeling strong enough to fight the cuddle. "It's not like we've done something bad."

"Oh, but we're gonna," he turns to me with a hungry expression. "I'm up for anything bad with you. Tell me all about your kinks, describe every fantasy you ever had about me. I want to hear it all."

I just stare at him, trying to decide if he's mocking me. He picks up on that and the spark in his eyes dies a little.

"Look," he takes my hand. "I can imagine how many pigs you've met in this city alone. And I can't honestly say I've never had a one-night-stand. Thing is, those were total strangers. I don't sleep around with my employees, [Name]. It's not against policy or anything, I just prefer to keep my business and pleasure separate, otherwise both can get messy."

I listen to him with genuine interest, but something in the back of my mind is detached, looking down at him and my own thoughts skeptically.

I know first hand that honesty is not a popular approach with guys trying to bed a woman. It's saying sweet lies after they get what they came for that doesn't compute. Perhaps Chase wishes to keep me as his booty call. The 'why' on that is subject to wild speculation, but that's the only explanation I can come up with that doesn't make me sound like a lovestruck teenager.

The last thought makes me pause. Am I lovestruck? Is that what this feeling is? This mix of desire and admiration? Or is it just some sort of fangirling? Because I've done a lot of that.

Something urges me to be honest with him, to tell him what I feel, to chance it and not let the opportunity slip... but that feeling is currently in a ruthless battle with the choking fear of rejection. The last thing I want is to seem silly and desperate.

He watches me with a curious expression. It's almost as if he knows what's going on in my head and is afraid of it. Before I can decide what to say, he takes my turn.

"I can't blame you for being scared, [Name]," he strokes my cheek softly. "But please, give me a chance. I don't know, maybe I look shallow," his eyebrows form a little roof over his doggy eyes, "but I'm really not. I couldn't ignore the way you were looking at me. I've felt untethered for the longest of times... but every time I get near you, I can tell there's a connection. Don't you feel it too?"

I open my mouth to confirm, only to close it a second later. I shouldn't say anything. This can't work.

But the pain that flashes in his face makes me want to cry.

"Yes," I sigh almost soundlessly. My hands touch his face of their own accord. I'm still trying, but my feelings won't let me keep them away from him anymore.

"[Name]," he whimpers, kissing me gently. I taste salt on my tongue from the tears I'm attempting to hold back, and I know he tastes it too. His fingers come up to my face and wipe some of the sad moisture away.

I must be crazy, but I don't feel like pushing him away anymore. My torn and sewn-back-together heart is pumping avidly in my chest, as if Chase infused my blood with new life. I know I'm just begging for more heartbreak, but I can't stop myself. I want this. I want him.

I haven't felt this good or this alive in a very long time. I don't want it to end tonight.

We kiss lovingly for a while, then help each other clean up. We can't keep our hands to ourselves even in the confined space of my shower. When we finally make it to the bed, our knees barely holding us upright, he passionately invades my body again. Maybe it's the zombie virus that lets us keep going despite our exhaustion. It feels like we could just ride each other until we starve or lose our minds to the infection.

Before we pass out naked and tangled, Chase plants a kiss into my hair, pulling me into an embrace. I don't have the capacity to be afraid anymore, so I melt into him and let the world of dreams swallow me.

Whatever happens tomorrow, this was the best fucking night of my life.

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