Deadly Silence ||Black Noir x Reader||

Chapter 9

He led her to an elevator, and they went a couple of floors down. While in the elevator, Y/N was still in shock but used the time to analyze him and the placement of his weapons, including his daggers.

Her gaze lingered on him long enough for him to notice her staring. Noir liked that. He wanted her attention. He leaned against the elevator wall and flexed his arms in a way that made his biceps appear even bigger and more toned.

He wanted her to see him at his best.

And she did notice.

There was an awkward silence. Y/N felt violated by him; he had literally manhandled her, and now he was acting all nonchalant about it. What the fuck, she thought to herself.

They reached the floor, and he let her step out first. What a gentleman, after beating me up, she thought sarcastically.

It was a secluded room that looked like a nurse's office or something similar. He gestured for her to sit down, then took out a notebook and wrote, "Why were you going through confidential documents?"

Y/N knew he'd probably catch her in a lie, but she decided to try anyway. "As a journalist, it's part of my job."

Black Noir wrote on the paper again, "Snooping around?"

Y/N nodded and said, "Dirty journalism."

Noir didn't say anything, but he knew she was lying. He could tell by the way her heart started beating faster, but she was good at keeping a poker face, he thought.

He took out a small first aid kit and began cleaning a few of her wounds. There was a piece of glass higher up on her thigh. He stared at the wound as a signal for her to let him cleanse it and remove the shard.

"Oh, um..." she muttered awkwardly as she pulled her pants down.

Nothing I haven't seen before, he thought, recalling that he had seen her change before—though she didn't know that.

Y/N pulled down her pants just enough to expose the wound and her lacy underwear.

Noir stayed focused. He looked at the wound, then at her. He put his gloved hand close to her mouth, signaling her to bite down on it.

He prepared to pull out the shard and quickly clean the wound.

As he pulled out the shard, Y/N bit down hard on his gloved hand, but Noir didn't even flinch.

He was almost done bandaging her thigh, but each time his hand grazed her skin, he felt a painful awareness of his own body—his cock was hard, pressed up against the armored suit.

When he was finished, he stopped to look at her. Y/N looked back at him, at a loss for words. This had been an emotional rollercoaster.