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Robert Robertson III was, in both a metaphorical and a literal sense, a fucking menace.
The maze of exposed beams and dusty HVAC ducts on the ceiling of Courtney’s industrial apartment gradually came back into focus from where she lay sprawled out on the bed. Goddamn…her ears were still ringing, a persistent, tinny whine layered over the distant sound of traffic from the street as she finished catching her breath and carefully went to sit up.
Every muscle in her body felt like it had been replaced with cooked pasta – limp and incapable of supporting any weight. Somehow, she managed, just as Robert was returning to her bedroom with a damp towel and a glass of water. The smile he gave her as he sank to sit on the edge of the mattress was tender, sweet. In other words, completely at odds with the man that, not even half an hour ago, had wrung six orgasms out of her and possibly her soul along with it.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that,” she laughed, though, tried to laugh was probably more accurate. Her voice was reduced to little more than a weak rasp. Jesus, where was her inhaler? She spotted the blue plastic container on her nightstand and flung a heavy arm out to pick it up, taking a puff of medication.
“Like what?” Robert asked with an amused tilt to his head, trading the glass of water he’d brought with her inhaler and placing it back on the nightstand. The tremor of fatigue in her hands sent a few splashes of liquid over the rim of the highball glass as she gripped it, adding to the embarrassingly substantial wet spot already staining her sheets. When she took a sip, the water soothed her parched throat, and she realized how thirsty she was. In a few greedy gulps, she drained half the cup.
“Like you didn’t just fuck me so hard I’m wondering if I’ll have to show up to work in a wheelchair tomorrow.”
Robert chuckled, and even through the ever-increasing weight of exhaustion pulling at her, warmth lit up in her stomach at the sound. “You say that as though you wouldn’t revel in recounting exactly what put you there.”
“And give you the ego boost?” she scoffed, taking another drink before setting it aside. “In your wettest dreams.”
“Speaking of,” Robert said, more to himself as he remembered the towel in his hands. He twisted to lean over her, cleaning up the mess of sweat and various other fluids starting to dry on her skin with an attentiveness that made it feel like a fist was squeezing around her heart, and the smartass retort waiting on her tongue fizzled out. The sex was over, yet Robert still managed to touch something unexpectedly soft and vulnerable just through the simple act of being…what, considerate? The thought that maybe she was losing her edge made her want to laugh, but instead she felt, to her complete and utter horror, the burgeoning of a telltale burn behind her eyes and aching in her sinuses.
Absolutely the fuck not, she thought, casting her gaze away from the sight of Robert tending to her. No matter what irrational, emotion-destabilizing concoction of spent adrenaline, dopamine, and endorphins her brain was currently brining and pickling in, there was no way in hell she was about to get fucking misty-eyed over a guy cleaning the cum off her. She closed her eyes, wrestling herself back under control, and waited until he was finished before daring to look at him again. He was doing a cursory wipe down of his own chest now, and her attention drifted to the towel dragging over his scarred skin, cackling when she registered what specifically he was holding.
Robert glanced up, one dark eyebrow arching, a curious smile curling at the corner of his lips. “Something funny?”
“I just realized,” she snickered, gesturing to the wad of wet cloth, “that's my roommate’s towel.”
Robert choked out a laugh. “Whoops.” He tossed it to join the pile of their clothes lying in a tangled heap on the floor. “I'll, uh, run it with the rest of the wash.”
It should have sounded ridiculous, him delegating laundry duty to himself when he didn't even live here. What the fuck was wrong with him, doing all this shit for her when she hadn't asked him to, like he knew everything, like taking care of her wasn't something he even had to think about, he just fucking did it. Like it was easy.
The knot of feelings around that thought was something she didn't have the will or energy to untangle right now, but in the end, she couldn't bring herself to argue either. It was simpler to justify it to herself as something he probably owed her anyway, considering the mess he'd made of her shirt and underwear earlier.
That had been another mortifying lapse in her fortitude, but at least it was one she could cope with: reaching her first orgasm of the night just from riding his thigh while he sucked and squeezed at her tits. To think she'd been that hard up for it that that was all it took…she knew she was pent up, but fucking hell. Robert had gotten her to fall right into his hands – he'd let her believe she was holding the reins, allowed himself to be pushed to sit on the edge of her bed so she could climb up over him and claim his lap like she owned it. He'd let her sink her hands into his hair and steer him into a claiming kiss, patiently biding his time while she sank deeper into a haze of want, until she was straddling his leg and seeking friction against the lean muscle of his thigh underneath his work slacks.
Her jeans and cropped jacket had already long been discarded on the way from the door to the bed, but Robert had still been almost fully dressed and in no hurry to change that. So, she'd taken matters into her own hands, damn near ripping his shirt buttons off in her haste, and got about as far as revealing a few more inches of his chest before she had to change tactics again. Rather than dropping his hands away from her body to let her work his shirt off his shoulders, Robert had continued to press unhurried kisses to her neck while she’d grumbled and yanked unsuccessfully at his clothes.
“Are you gonna ditch the work uniform, or are you gonna make me stare at the SDN logo while we bone?” she'd huffed, tugging again at his shirt. “Take these off.”
“Always in such a rush,” he'd mused, nibbling at the bolt of her jaw.
“M’not rushing,” she’d fired back, “you're just slow as shit.”
But he hadn't taken the bait, and she'd failed to see Robert was waging a war of attrition, letting her wind herself up until she was struggling to balance her control with her growing desperation. With the same efficiency he used to hack tech and security encryptions, he'd taken over and left her wondering how she'd gone from calling the shots to him guiding her squirming hips into a rhythm with a hand at the small of her back. There had been something about the way he just simply let his palm rest there, warm and heavy, but not pressing, waiting for her to obey his direction of her own volition that had the dual effect of making her want to push back at his authority and making her so wet she was sure she was leaving a damp spot on his slacks.
She'd struggled to hold onto her stubbornness after that, but refused not to go down swinging. Naturally, she'd resorted to biting as her last line of resistance, pleased when Robert jerked and hissed at the feeling of her teeth sinking hard into his shoulder.
“Come on,” she'd growled at him. “Are you gonna fuck me already or what?”
The intense, steady look he'd met her with had sent a shiver through her. He’d remained infuriatingly calm and measured, even though her knee had been pressed against the proof she wasn't the only one who was worked up.
His eyes had glinted with the hint of a smile. “Ask me nicely and I'll think about it.”
Fucking asshole. All the same, the words had made her heartbeat throb between her legs, another slick rush adding to the mess soaking the thin cotton of her underwear. There’d been no way Robert hadn’t felt it, and when he'd reached under her shirt to slip her bra off, she'd thought he’d finally decided to give in to her demands. Except, he'd left her cropped shirt on, and instead of removing it, cupped one clothed breast and put his mouth on the other, tonguing at her nipple through the fabric.
Things had escalated into a hot blur after that, of him switching to give the other side the same attention, tossing the shirt aside when it was damp with her sweat and his saliva, only to give her bare skin the same attention, until she'd gasped and whined and shaken through the unexpected swell of her climax overtaking her.
That first one had taken the edge off, but sent more molten and greedy want pouring low in her belly. She'd needed more, and needled at him again when her head had cleared enough to form words, prodding and poking to test what would get him to snap. Teased in a voice laden with dry sarcasm, “You're really blowing my mind here, Robbie – second base and some dry humping? What is this, prom night?”
“Wouldn't know,” he’d shrugged, leaning into that easy, self-deprecating humor. “The girl I asked out rejected my prom-posal.”
“Ouch. I got kicked out of my prom – they caught me trying to sneak in a bucket of those mini Fireballs.”
She'd flashed Robert a devious grin that made him chuckle, and he'd taken hold of her thighs to flip their position, kissing her again as he set her back against the sheets.
Orgasm two was even better than the first – Robert had hooked his thumb under her ruined panties to pull them to the side, whistling at the glistening string of slick that stretched and snapped when the cloth was tugged aside, like he hadn't been the one responsible for it.
“Less staring,” she'd commanded, trying not to let it slip through her voice how close she was to begging him, “more just-get-your-fucking-dick-out-already.”
“What's the magic word?” Robert had sing-songed back at her, one of his fingers dipping distractingly between her legs to stroke a long line up the length of her slit.
“Now.”
He'd hissed through his teeth, pretending to wince. “Ooh, so close.”
Then his fingers had gotten to work, smearing around the wetness from her previous release as he rubbed slow circles around her clit until she was coming again. She'd hardly caught her breath before he'd dropped to his knees and his mouth took over, his perpetual stubble prickling at the skin on the inside of her thighs. The feeling of his tongue licking up the center of her had her back arching up off the bed, his low groan that she felt more than heard answering her own high-pitched cry. She hadn't been able to think, her thoughts dissolving before they could fully form, the whole of her focus narrowed down to Robert eating her out like a man starved.
Orgasms three and four had come one right after the other. Instead of easing up after she came for the third time, he'd doubled down his efforts, two fingers sunk to the knuckle inside her while he sucked at her clit. Pressure and delicious overstimulation had sent her flying into another, more intense peak, and with a sharp, shocked cry, her release came with a gush of liquid that soaked the lower half of Robert's face and dripped down his neck to seep into his shirt collar.
“Fuck yes,” he'd groaned through his teeth. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck…”
She'd hardly had the wherewithal by then to marvel at the fact that he still had his fucking clothes on, but being in the splash zone just then appeared to be his cue to finally (finally) ditch them, shedding his shirt, pants, and dark boxer briefs.
He hadn't needed to remind her to ask nicely that time – her attitude had long dissipated, her entire body stripped down to a raw, exposed nerve under his relentless attention. She thinks that's when she'd begged him, punctuated her request with the pretty ‘please’ he'd wanted to hear, and in return, he hadn't made her wait.
In one slow glide, he'd slid in deep and bottomed out, holding himself still for a moment to just let her feel and acclimate to the stretch and the hot weight of him filling her. He’d cupped one of her shaking legs under the knee and splayed the palm of his free hand over her belly, adding gentle pressure that had compressed her insides tighter around him, heightened that feeling of fullness until her breath came in needy little mewls she couldn't be damned to feel embarrassed about.
She knew he'd been speaking to her as he’d begun rocking into her at a steady pace, words she recognized but most of which she couldn't make sense of through the feeling that a thick syrup was being poured into her head, drowning and quieting her thoughts. The few words that had made it through, things like perfect and so good, only made her sink deeper under the surface, until the world had fallen away, down to just Robert, holding her together while she fell apart.
When she'd come the fifth time, she'd sobbed as the coil of tension snapped in her gut and radiated through her entire body, rocketing up her spine and vibrating in her teeth. Her hands had clawed into the first thing she could reach, which had turned out to be Robert's back, her nails crisscrossing with the mural of scars painted across the skin.
She'd thought there hadn't been any more she could give, body and mind both utterly spent, but then Robert had gathered her up and maneuvered them to sit kneeling with her back to his chest, supporting her weight in his arms.
“One more,” he'd rasped at her ear, kissing her temple as he believed in her to do the impossible once again. “Give me one more, I know you can do it.”
That unwavering confidence he had in her…it had always felt unearned from her side in the wake of her trail of repeated fuck-ups and wasted opportunities, but she also craved it and the approval in his voice when she succeeded at something more than anything else in the world.
He'd held her through it, cradled her, and whispered sweet nothings into her hair like she was something precious as he’d coaxed her over the edge one final time. She'd vaguely registered him cursing and gasping her name as his cock pulsed against her tender insides with the onset of his own release before she gave up on trying to make sense of anything, surrendering to the warm, fuzzy static that descended over her and cocooned her in nothingness until her senses returned to her one by one.
The feeling of the bed shifting as Robert laid back down across from her grounded her back in the present moment and sent the memories of the night scattering, the warm brown of his eyes finding hers.
“You okay?” he asked, brushing a loose lock of her hair out of her eyes and tapping her forehead. “I can hear the gears turning in there from here.”
Fuck, he was dangerous – between those eyes, that voice, the way he always seemed to be able to cut right through all her bullshit…it was only a matter of time before the truth she couldn't even admit to herself of what he meant to her would come tumbling out. She could only hope that when it did, it didn't pour gasoline and set fire to the one good thing she's managed to keep so far. For now, though, it was locked safely away – a precious gleam of potential, or the spark of her ruin.
“I'm trying to think of what places deliver this late,” she said, letting an easy smile settle over her features, “‘cause I would kill for a spicy chicken sandwich right now.”
Robert searched her eyes for a moment, and she had to remind herself not to hold her breath and flicker out of visibility. If he saw something in her expression, he didn't mention it. Just another thing he was good at – knowing when and when not to push.
“Popeyes is open until eleven,” he suggested, getting up to fish his phone out of his discarded work pants and opening the DoorDash app.
“Oh, hell yes,” she cheered.
As if summoned by the mention of food, Beef’s tiny feet scratched at the bedroom door, demanding to be let in at the promise of chicken.
Two combo meals, a shower, and a set of fresh sheets later, they were tucked back into her bed, Beef curled up and snoring between them while they streamed Hoodwinked on Courtney's laptop and grazed on a party-sized bag of sour gummy worms. It was the kind of cozy, domestic bliss that Courtney had never envisioned herself having, but that Robert ushered into her shitty, overpriced apartment in the span of one night. Then again, she supposed, this was the same guy that managed to completely transform a team of ex-cons into competent heroes.
Hope wasn't a feeling she was often in the habit of entertaining, but it formed a single shining pearl around the grain of possibility that, if she’d been able to learn how to protect civilians and the peace despite a much longer history of crime than hero work, maybe she could learn how to protect this new and promising something taking shape between her and Robert, too.
She'd fight for it with all she had.