Adonis | H.S

chapter sixteen: ardour

(c.w: sexual content: rough, mild degradation.)

By the time Scarlett and Harry made it back to her apartment, what little intoxication she had when they'd left the Blue Ribbon had dissipated. It was instead replaced with the need to mend and heal the man beside her.

She didn't know how much he'd had to drink, but considering he was tipsy when she'd arrived earlier that night, she figured it would take more than a fight and a fifteen-minute drive to sober him up as it had done her.

She led him through to the lobby, the doorman was polite and tried to fight his intrigue at the sight of the two. She had an arm around Harry's waist to anchor him as she called the elevator with the button, letting him slump against the wall next to it.

"Mm, really like your dress," Harry mumbled with a smirk, letting his index finger brush along the hem and touch her thigh.

His hand was still covered in blood. It was dried at that point, but she nudged his touch away anyway, then softened the denied action with a smile. She managed to get him into her apartment unscathed, setting him on a stool in her kitchen. He stared up at her with an expression she'd not seen before and she couldn't place it. Like he wasn't sure how to act.

He knew all he had to do was sit there and let her take care of him but it was such an alien feeling to him that his heart was almost beating right out of his fucking chest.

"Let's get you cleaned up." She sighed.

It wasn't that she minded it, but this was the last direction she saw the night heading in. She figured they'd spend the night together, but she'd be tending to his pleasure, not his battle wounds.

She gathered what her apartment offered in way of a medical kit; some antibacterial wipes, some bandages, plasters. Nothing too fancy but something told her he'd deny any dramatic type of attention. She also grabbed a wet cloth to clean the blood away, bringing all of the materials to the counter and then settling a tall glass of water in front of him.

He'd taken off his suit jacket, leaving the blue velvet draped on the back of the stool. His shoulders were broad in his white singlet, showcasing even more bare skin and smatterings of tattoos she'd not seen before. His hair brushed his skin so delicately and she wanted to run her hands through the soft curls.

Harry reached for her and she let out another sigh. "Harry, please sit still."

"Need to touch you." Needed her skin, her kiss, her pussy.

"I need to clean your injuries."

She couldn't gauge how bad the one on his cheek was until she'd cleared the blood shrouding it. The last thing he needed was for it to get infected and it was panicking her the longer they went uncleaned.

"Fine." He grumbled, not taking his eyes off of her. "And then can I touch you?"

"If you sober up."

Harry quickly picked up the glass of water and downed the entire thing in three impressive gulps. A few droplets escaped and trailed down his chin.

Scarlett raised a brow. "Another?"

"Please," he said gruffly, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

After grabbing him another glass of water, she got busy dabbing the blood from his cheek. She was careful not to apply too much pressure but the way he was staring at her was throwing her off. She could feel the intensity of it sear her open, exposing her soul to him.

"How is it?" He asked as she inspected the wound.

"Hard to tell. It'll bruise pretty bad." She informed sympathetically.