Tough Lover(s)

Chapter 3

The walk back to your room was an interesting trip to say the least. Your thoughts rampaging on what to think, what to feel. You just fucked a man who you hated and who hated you back A man that was practically a war hero, someone people looked up to, figuratively and literally. A soldier that your father knew and cared for. What would he think, what would others think if they found out? Not that Ghost seemed to be the type to kiss and tell. Hell, everyone thought you two would avoid each other, so maybe you were lucky enough that no one would find out.

Ultimately you decided that you loathed him.

He left you there after, tears falling down your cheeks from how good he made you feel, leaking his seed, taking your dignity out the door with him. He won this round and you didn't like that, abhorred him for everything he was for defeating you so easily.

You finally approached your room, closing and locking the door behind you, quickly discarding your clothes onto the floor and changing into a clean pair of underwear along with König's shirt. Pushing the bags of clothes off the bed, you crawled into it, pulling the blankets up and staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow was going to be interesting if you ran into Ghost.

Oh God.

You didn't even think about the fact that you were going to have to see him again. Of course you would have to, he's basically in charge of things from what you could tell. Well, besides Laswell, but it seems she's not here very often. Eventually you would have to run into him, it was inevitable.

Fuck.

*****

You didn't wake up till close to noon the next day. Sitting up after rubbing your eyes and stretching, then flinging your feet over the edge of the bed. As much as you wanted to just stay curled up into the cheap bed, you knew someone would eventually come to check on you.

After another moment of contemplating how badly you really need to get up, you stood, then began rummaging through the bags. You decided on some biker shorts and a matching t-shirt, then threw on the converse. It wasn't until you started fully moving and awoke more that you realized how sore you were, yesterday's activities suddenly revisiting your head. You walked over to the full length mirror they so graciously had in the room and looked yourself over.

Your hair was tingled from him grabbing at it, sticking up every which way. You pulled your shirt up and lowered your shorts just enough to see the bright bruises blooming on your hip bones from being slammed down so hard. A small purple one was on your cheek as well. Your body, you soon discovered, was covered in all types of purples and blues, luckily just tiny ones that could be taken as something else.

But then you noticed it, the handprint on your lower throat. Had he really been holding it that tight? You were so lost in all of it that you hadn't noticed it. Fuck. Quickly, you rummaged through the clothes that were in the bags, looking for something, anything, to cover it, but coming up short.

You're so screwed. Maybe they wouldn't notice?

Of course they would.

Deny it. Deny any accusations.

Your throat was also sore and aching, but that was an afterthought after everything else. You just hoped that drinking some water would help ease it enough.

With all these new findings, you walked out of the bedroom, closing the door as you existed. You began heading towards the cafeteria, but as you walked past a meeting room with everyone inside, including your father and Laswell, you halted, stopping in front of the doorway. Everyone turned towards you and suddenly you felt so exposed. They definitely could see every mark that had been left on you from their companion.