Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

30. Lullaby

"What are you doin'?"

A half-smile tugged at my lips as I looked up at Striker. "Listening to your heart."

"Aren't you off the clock?" he teased.

I snickered and shook my head. "I'm not assessing," I said, pressing my ear to his bare chest. "I'm just listening."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "I like it. It's calming. I could fall asleep to it."

He responded with a low hum that vibrated through his chest and tickled my ear. I leaned in closer to his chest and slowed my breathing. My smile widened slightly as I heard it loud and clear against my ear:

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

My entire body relaxed at the strong, steady sound of his heartbeat. I closed my eyes, letting out a soft sigh.

"I don't know why," I started, "but I've always loved the sound of someone's heartbeat. It's more than just calming — it's . . . reassuring, I guess."

I opened my eyes to see Striker looking at me with a raised eyebrow, as if asking me to explain. I propped my chin on the back of my hand.

"I don't know," I continued. "I guess it's because it's how you know that somebody is alive." My eyes fell to my finger as it traced invisible lines along the deep scar on Striker's collarbone. "Even for hellborn, it's still the same. Your hearts look and work the same way. They sound the same way. . ."

I trailed off, stopping myself when I realized what I was saying. Striker watched me silently, and I pursed my lips in thought.

"When I first manifested in Hell, I was distrusting of hellborn — like, very distrusting. I had been taught my whole life that Hell was solely a place for eternal torture and misery, and its inhabitants were evil incarnate. I was afraid of your kind for a long time, because I assumed they would just try to take advantage of me." A humorless chuckle escaped my lips. "Turns out Shakespeare was right when he wrote, 'Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.'" I noticed the slightly puzzled look on Striker's face and added, "It's from a human play, back on Earth."

"That makes more sense," he responded flatly.

My hand sprawled across his chest. "'All monsters are human,' is another saying," I said, my voice a little softer. "I never realized just how true those sayings were until I came here." I laid my head on its side, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest. "Your people are more human than most humans down here."

Striker placed a hand on top of my head. "I wouldn't exactly call 'em my 'people'," he remarked.

I looked at him. He gazed down at me with eyes that glowed like dying embers, his lids halfway closed.

"We're not as good as you make us out to be," he said in a low voice. A small, cynical smirk crossed his lips. "Some of us can be just as evil as you were led to believe."

I pushed myself up on all fours and took his face in my hand. "But like my kind, you have the capacity for change. The capacity for good. Humans have committed terrible atrocities—but we've also done a lot of good things. Amazing things. And I firmly believe you are capable of it, too."

His mouth straightened to a flat line, and his expression became unreadable. We stared at each other for a moment before he gently pried my hand from his face and let out a quiet sigh through his nose. "Just because somebody is able to do good things doesn't mean they will."

"That's true," I said. "It's ultimately their decision. But that doesn't take away from the fact that they can."

He watched me with that blank expression for a little longer, then silently climbed out of bed. As he walked out of the bedroom, I got a full view of his lean body, and couldn't help but let out a light whistle at the sight of his well-toned ass.

He stopped and looked back at me with a playful smirk. "Like what you see?"

"Oh, yes," I drawled with a toothy grin.

He snickered and continued out the door to the bathroom. He returned a minute or two later, still naked as the day he was born—and still with that mischievous smirk on his face. He approached the bed where I lay and crawled on top of me.

"Ready for round three?" he purred, lowering himself onto my frame.

I giggled, a part of me feeling very tempted to say yes — especially after I felt his sizeable erection pressing against my thigh. But I simply smiled at him and placed a hand on his cheek. "No, not really," I said softly. "I just want to lay down with you for a while, if that's okay."

I was pretty sure I saw a hint of disappointment cross Striker's face, but it didn't take him long to relent and lie on his back beside me. He pulled the blanket over both of us and wrapped an arm around my waist. I shifted closer to him, savoring the warmth of his skin on mine. But after a while, that wasn't enough.

Once again, I brought my ear to his chest, melting into his frame as I listened to his heart. The rhythmic beating nearly lulled me to sleep until I heard the sound of air rushing through his lungs, and I half-smiled.

"Your heart sounds healthy," I murmured. "And your lungs sound good and clear."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Thought you said you weren't workin'."

I shushed him softly, closing my eyes. "Shh, I can't hear."

His chuckle became louder with amusement before he settled into the mattress and wove his fingers into my hair. He stared up at the spinning ceiling fan and gently held me to his chest, letting me hear his heartbeat. We lay there in a calming silence, and I relaxed further into his arms as I listened to the lullaby his heart sang to me.