He was looking at me as more of an equal.
No words as he stepped forward. One hand moved to my waist while the other cupped and caressed my cheek. I leaned into his touch, a different kind of need than I was used to seeping through.
It was difficult for him, the struggle evident in his eyes for such an affectionate touch, but I could tell it was also something he needed. He wasn’t completely unfazed by the events of the evening. Still the same, not changed, but there were definite emotions there. What they were, I wasn’t quite sure.
He leaned down, lips pressing against mine, mouths opening and tongues touching in light strokes. His fingers made trails down my body, wrapping around me and pulling me closer.
I did the same, caressing my way up his arms and chest, slipping my hands up his neck and into his hair, pulling. A moan vibrated through him into me.
We were both panting when he pulled back, our bodies mashed together under the spray of the showerhead. In a quick movement, he bent down and grabbed one of my legs around the knee and pulled it up to his hip.
The heat of his hard cock slipped across my slit, twitching as he groaned. He grabbed my other leg and lifted me up, pressing me against the wall. The tile was cold against my warmed skin, making me hiss.
No time was wasted adjusting us so that his dick pushed right into my pussy, stretching me, filling me. His eyes never left me as mine fluttered from the intense pleasure, or when he began moving his hips in long, slow undulating thrusts.
No frenzied, frantic movements. It wasn’t the need to come that drove him, it was the need for comfort.
Skin moved against skin in a sensual dance. Each deep push forced out a moan from me and into his mouth, sliding across our tongues.
Steady strokes, hips coming together. In and out in waves of pure, pain fueled need. Pleasure for a reset of mind-wiping release.
Our eyes were locked and while soft, they were devoid of emotion. Not fear, sadness, pain or love. Nothing.
I really was in love with a sociopath.
He let out a loud groan, his cock bottoming out as his thrusts sped up in hard slaps. The muscles beneath my hands tightened. Hot breath against my skin as he buried his face in my neck, arms tight around me. He held us there, under the warm water as his cock jerked inside me.
Even after the last pulse, he stayed.
There was no rush to move, no need. Holding each other tight, trying to forget, for just a moment, that everything had changed.
War had come, and only the last Cleaners standing decided the new world order.
The motel room was a mess of sandy, wet clothes and salt encrusted weapons. Six’s lips formed a thin line as he looked down at his favorite gun.
“Will it be okay?” I asked as I toweled my hair off.
He nodded. “It’ll take a while, and I need to get all the salt off it.”
Instead of beginning to work on it like he normally would, he crawled onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Throwing the towel over the shower rod, I joined him, lying on my side and staring at his lifeless expression.
The man beside me wasn’t broken, but inside he was beaten up.
“He was really your brother? Like, you grew up with him, have the same parents?”
Six nodded. “His name is Eli. We’re just over a year apart.”
“So when I asked if you had family, he was the brother you were talking about?”
“Yes.”
“And even then, you said you would kill him.”
He was silent and I thought it was like normal, ignoring that I said anything.
“When I was twelve, he shot me.”
I let out a gasp, my mind reeling as his fingers traced around to a wound in his lower abdomen.
“Then he killed our father.” He paused, letting me process the very personal information. His eyes searched mine as if he was deciding to continue or not. “Our mother told the police our father shot me, and Eli shot him in defense, to stop him from killing our mother. After that, Eli got whatever he wanted because she was afraid of him. “
“Were you afraid of him?”
He shook his head. “He used fear to intimidate, but I’ve never been afraid of him because I’m just as fucked-up as he is. We’re both psychopaths created from come poured from the dick of another psycho into the unsuspecting womb of an otherwise normal woman.”
“You believe it’s your nature?”
“It is. It was also my nurture, if you’re going to try that argument.”
Somehow, he knew where I was going. “You never retaliated against him? Against Nine?”
He shook his head. “No, but that was the first time I realized he was jealous. In many things, even at that young age, I was better than him.”
“But when you were ranked…”
“I did what I do. There was nothing that drove me other than completing the tasks. I didn’t and still don’t care about the ranking. It was arbitrary.”
“So, he put in more effort?” I asked, trying to get it all straight. “Are you better than him?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you’re good at what you do?”