A Sea Of Bloody Hearts

№32|And I You

№32|And I You
>───⇌••⇋───<

Queenie groaned, running her fingers through her unruly hair. She glanced at her phone to see that it was 3:15 a.m. She sighed and flopped back down onto her pillow. A soft snore caused her to turn to her left at the masked man soundly asleep on the let out couch.

She smiled softly, chuckling at him. “He looks like a little child…” She unsheathed herself from under the covers and walked over to him. She stroked his hair, inhaling his beautiful tangerine and cedarwood scent.

“Why won't you tell me your name?” she whispered. Her fingers grazed the edge of his mask. When she lifted the smooth, velvet material, she saw the warm umber skin under his eyes. Her fingers inched towards the skin, anticipating the feel of him. She longed to caress his face free of the mask.

Before her fingers could come in contact with his face, he pulled her down onto the couch. She yelped when she felt his arms wrap around her. 

“Nice try, Quincy,” he whispered in her ear.

“I hate you,” she grumbled, trying to escape from his grasp.

“Nope, you’re not leaving. This is your punishment. Since you want to be nosy, you’re going to stay here in my arms till morning.” He smirked against her skin. “Maybe you’ll finally get some sleep with me next to you.”

She blushed and bit her lip. It was true; she hadn’t been sleeping lately and it was mostly due to stress. Each night, she would sit up and stare at the ceiling as worry rushed over her. She had hoped this mess with Soren would’ve been over by now, but it just got worse since the failed assassination.

She yawned and turned to the masked man. Her arms wrapped around him as she nuzzled up close to his chest. Just as she was about to close her eyes, a ding from his phone awoke her.

She glanced at the screen. It was a text message from someone named Janice.

So… you’re not talking to me anymore? Hm?

Curiosity filled her heart as she reached for his phone. Before her fingers could grab it, he caught her wrist. “Aren’t you a curious little kitten tonight?” he chuckled. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

“Who’s Janice?” she asked, looking over his shoulder as his phone dinged again.

“Nobody, my curious kitten.” He smiled and ran his thumb over her chin. “You should go to sleep. You need the rest.”

“But who’s Janice?” Queenie asked again.

“Nobody you have to worry about, Quincy. She’s old news.” He tapped her nose. “Now rest, my curious kitten. Wayne wants to talk to us tomorrow about our next move.”

She mewled, rubbing her eyes as she laid back down. “I’m not… a kitten…”

“She says purring in her sleep.” He chuckled and stroked her hair. A calm excitement stirred inside of him at the feeling of Queenie sleeping on top of him. Her hand clenched the fabric covering his chest, as though she was preventing him from flying away. 

His phone dinged once more. He groaned, and to the ceiling, he asked, “Does she ever go to bed?”

The masked man rose up from the couch, carefully moving Queenie off of him and onto the smooth leather of the couch as he entered the kitchen.