Stockholm Syndrome.

III

-AN-
REALLY LATE, I'M SORRY 😢😢

Things are gonna start getting more relevant to the story description now lololol.
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Early morning sun began to filter softly through the crack of the curtains which shielded you and your lover's sleeping bodies from whoever desired to look. Simultaneously, the early rising birds began to twitter and sing; a noise which had the brunette lying on his side stirring.

He made a quiet noise, bronzed hands lazily venturing up to his scarred features to rub into his eyes; a yawn which had his face stretching in a way very reminiscent of a waking lion reverberating into the depths of his strong chest.

He was rolling onto his back when he caught glimpse of your sleeping frame beside him, and he smiled despite himself.

He was perfectly aware of the personality and ego he sported. A superiority complex with arrogance and anger issues to boot. In all honesty, he wasn't sure how he got someone of your caliber to love him like you did. To deal with his, let's face it, pretty neglecting tendencies and his lack of saying those three little words.

He frowned slightly. Just when was the last time he told you he loved you? He couldn't remember, and that really didn't feel good.

You began to murmur and mewl beside him, and he tore himself from his darker thoughts to bask in the adorableness that was you waking from a good night's sleep.

You made a noise, high in pitch, and strained against the soft sheets of the bed. Your legs trembled as they went rigid in their stretch, spine curving as you arched it out. Then, you relaxed, eyes remaining closed as your body instinctively shuffled closer to the warmth that was Jack's form, and nuzzled.

He chuckled quietly, your little display of childlike actions forming the sun that vanquished the clouds from his mind. He settled back into the sheets to observe your face. The way it crinkled at the nose, and creased at the brow, before long-lashed lids raised to reveal tired eyes glossy from sleep.

It almost took his breath away.

You blinked at the sight of his scarred face, still ruggedly handsome despite the angry mark that marred his flesh. Your hazy mind felt quite subconscious to his adoring gaze being your waking view, and you flushed; giggling quietly and burying your face into your hands.

He chuckled, "don't hide from me, princess~" he cooed, and you simply whined in response, peering through your fingers at him.

He loved it.

The minutes before your mind settled back into your proper, composed personality. Before you were conducting yourself like the proud woman you are. When you were just a soft, fragile little kitten that needed his protection.

His protection.

Nobody else's.

He darkened, suddenly. A poisonous thought of another man holding you, loving you, having you. It stung his heart with a venom which he tried to ignore, because good things never came of this feeling.

He frowned. Recalling a time where that sleazy coworker Vasquez of his had hit on you no too subtly at a debut party thrown by Hyperion. He remembers his fist flying before he could stop it, and threats spilling out his mouth like they were hardwired into his tongue.

...He remembers the way you'd cried when he had allowed his worse judgement to take over. The way he'd misinterpreted your pink cheeks to the black-haired man's words as enjoyment, and not embarrassment.

What he'd said...

Whore.

Ungrateful bitch.

Cheating cow.

He felt himself cringe. That had happened a long time ago now, but he still felt awful. When Jack was mad, there was little anyone could do without the help of a weapon to subdue him. And you had looked so scared, and delicate when you peered up at him in horror through his torrent of rage-induced insults...

"Jack...?"

He flinched, his glazed eyes clearing as he looked at you. He was vulnerable, for a brief second. Something you hadn't seen before in his eyes before it vanished, and he was pulling you closer. The anger that had bubbled like the firey magma of a volcano, settling.

For now.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to the silky tresses, "lost in thought."

You giggled again, despite the uneasy feeling in your chest. The one thing Jack didn't know about himself was that when he submitted himself to his deep thinking, his face mirrored the feelings of what he thought about.

And the scowl that had donned his face just then had made you want to shrink back in the blankets of your warm bed and beg for forgiveness of an offence unknown.

"That's dangerous," you remarked playfully, when really, you were only half kidding. This, he knew.

He felt himself tense again, and removed himself quickly from you, and the bed. Leaving you to watch after him as he wordlessly entered the adjoining bathroom, and closed the door.

You frowned.

How long had it been since he had blown up into a blinding fury of possessiveness and aggression?

Long enough for another episode to be due, you thought.