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“Fuck—” she groaned.
She had promised herself she wouldn’t do this. When she had gotten her summons back to Death City, she knew that seeing Franken again would be a part of it, but she couldn’t let herself fall back into her old ways. She was a grown woman now damn it. She had a life, a serious job, and a couple of guys she kept on rotation when the lonely nights got too lonely and the wait for Mr. Perfect became tiresome. She had thought she would only see him on occasion. With Asura out in the world again she had assumed that Lord Death would keep her on the move, using her anti-madness wavelength to calm down some of the harsher effects that the madness had been having on the world. But not two minutes after arriving, she had been assigned as his new partner.
Cool, she had thought. Just great, now not only will she have to spend her days back in her old school, but she’ll also have to be working with the guy she had wasted those years being in love with. Go figure. If it couldn’t get any worse, her next task had been to move in with him, spend every minute with him, and keep an eye on his mental state. Especially making sure to calm down and soothe his erratic tendencies. Developing feelings for him again was practically inevitable.
But she had tried, God had she tried. She redecorated his house to feel more like hers, had reminded herself over and over again that the only reason why she was with him in the first place was to act as some form of human Xanax, and had spent as much time as she was allowed trying to reacquaint herself with the academy and the city instead of by his side. It was all pointless. One look at him and she was gone. Seeing him again made her realize the only reason she couldn’t find her soul mate in Oceania was that he was still living in Death City. She had moved there to get away from him, but his effect on her was unshakable. No amount of distance or separation would change that.
Why him? That was the question she had been asking herself since she was a teenager. He was hurtful, more than a little psychotic, and prematurely grey. But she was in love with him. Maybe some part of her felt like she could fix him. If she was only given the chance, maybe she could make him care about more than just dissection. Maybe she could get him to see her body and want to do more with it than cut it open. Show him the joy of touching and softness and holding on to one another for dear life while he rocked into her at a soul-crushing pace watching her come apart underneath him, over and over again.
Another part of her, a small and avoided part, wondered if that was all. It questioned if that was the only thing that she wanted. Or maybe this small, twisted part of her felt excited knowing how much he could hurt her. It wondered just how far she would let him go, and just how much pain she could take in the process. But that isn’t love, so those can’t be the reasons.
She ignores all the real reasons. The moment she felt a weight lift from his soul when death announced their assignment. The way he so quickly tossed out his eerie and slightly macabre furnishings to make room for hers. How every morning he silently fusses over her routine to make sure she is prepared and ready for the day, making her tea without asking, answering her questions about teaching, and giving her advice on dealing with the students. How even, back when they were just teenagers, he would wait for her. When she had gotten lost and couldn’t find her way, he would wait to make sure she found where she was going. Even after everyone else had left.
So she loved him. That was why she currently had her hand beneath her dress and was biting her lip to keep from calling out his name.
This had become somewhat of a nightly routine. After they would have dinner together they would sit in the living room, Stein on his computer, Marie reading her book on the couch just appreciating each other's company. At some point, she would find the proximity too much to bear and would nonchalantly turn in for the night. Rushing to her room and locking the door while pulling aside her soaked-through underwear and skimming her fingers along the spot she needed touched the most. Her mind would be filled with a mix of memories of him from the night and the ongoing fantasy she imagined every day, editing a spot or two she didn’t like and adding onto the ever-growing lists of things she wanted to do to him and vice versa.
This night she didn't even make it to her bed. Pushing the door closed and then collapsing there on the spot. Her fingers already grazing her folds, collecting the wetness that had already begun to ruin her pants. She teased herself with a finger, finding her already ready and clenching around the intrusion. She bit back a moan. Too scared that Stein would hear from the other room and her misguided feelings would be revealed. But it wasn't enough. She went deeper, searching with her touch for the spot she knew would make her see stars, but it wasn’t working. She started rubbing her clit with her other fingers, hoping that some more friction was just what she needed. But no. She added another finger and worked herself up enough to add another. But that wasn't it. She needed it rougher. Needed a mouth to bring suction to her clit while one hand held her down and the other was exploring her deep inside. She needed to hear a crazed chuckle as she whined and begged for more. Needed to feel the scrape of his scruff as his lips worked her clit and his chin scraped through her folds. She needed the rough pads of his calloused fingers to be scratching that itch that her body yearned for, working her up until it all made her come crashing back down, screaming his name, and feeling his smile as he worked her through her high.
But that is not what she had. All she had was her one hand rubbing hard at her clit while three other fingers were shoved up her cunt, scissoring and moving trying to feel anything close to the glory that the imagination could bring. She refused to give up. She needed something firm for her legs to clench around, and if she couldn't have his scarred chest, her pillow would have to do. Without removing her hand she got up and crawled over to her bed. Using her free hand to bring two pillows to her thighs, straddling the lumpy cushions for any sort of relief. She began to rock back and forth, timing her thrusts with the movement of her fingers against her clit. She really couldn’t care less if her new actions caused the bed to creak back and forth. A tinny whine escaping in time to the movement of her body. She was so close. Her peak was there just out of reach as she became desperate, using her free hand to grasp her tit and rub soothing circles on her nipple, feeling them quickly peak and prickle against the fabric of her dress. She pictured him at his computer, hoping the memory would be the effect she needs. She can see him crouched there staring at his notes or the programming, clenched jaw clicking in time with his frustrated gaze. He could still be there right now. Sitting at his computer so lost in thought with no knowledge as to what his memory was causing only a few rooms over. She could feel it. The propelling of this thought tumbling her closer and closer to utter destruction with her climax. But she still wasn’t quite there.
Her moans had become breathy. Sound unbidden by her forgotten clenched teeth. She’s sure she repeated his name. Over and over again low and groaning. She was so close. Why couldn’t her body just do this for her? This is what she needed. This was everything she so desperately craved. Why couldn’t she do this? That was when she heard a creak a few paces back from her door. Stein must have gotten bored at his computer and decided to go back to his room. She’s sure he wouldn’t hear. Too involved with himself to notice her presence behind her bedroom door shaking and twitching rocking back and forth over her pillows, desperately searching for release. But knowing that he was there. Knowing that at any minute he could decide to knock on her door and see what is going on, finally pushed her over the edge.
She came with a groan. Pulling her fingers out from herself and collapsing over her now disfigured pillows.
As her mind cleared from her post-orgasm high she noticed two things.
- The creaky footsteps in the hallway had stopped.
- A sliver of view into the hallway was created by her slightly ajar door she had forgotten to lock.