𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ➀

9 RAPTURE

That soup, aside from my mother's soup, was the best chicken noodle soup I have ever had in my entire life. My stomach feels about ten thousand times better because of it and well, because of Monica. Monica had cooked for me, taken care of me and I'm still wondering as to why that is. I mean, yeah, we fucked but that's about it. Well, beside the fact I told her to get the fuck out of my apartment because of my raging internal demons.

Let's not go there.

We didn't say much to each other during dinner and the only reason I'm assuming it was dinner is due to the fact that it's dark outside. I'm still wondering how I'd managed to stay asleep for that long. The fact that I had slept that long with Monica in my apartment is even more astonishing. How I'd managed to sleep through her cooking I'll never know.

"Where's your Tupperware?" She asks from the kitchen, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Up there." I jerk my head to the cabinet above the stove. She nods, turns and tries to open the cabinet but she's too short. "Here," I walk over and grab a few containers for her. She makes a strange face as she studies them. "They're old take-out containers." I state trying to clear up the confusion written all over her face.

"Oh." She doesn't say anything else and I'm glad.

Not knowing what to do with myself I head into the bathroom to clean myself up. I can't even remember the last time I brushed my teeth or had a damn shower. I turn on the sink faucet and scrub away the last of the soup from my mouth. After that, I grab a bar of soap and wash my face. Finally, once the majority of the filth is cleaned away, I look at my reflection.

I don't look my best but I sure as hell don't look my worst. My black hair is askew atop my head, my scruff has grown out a tad longer than I'd like and my eyes are bloodshot. A splash of water and a comb takes care of the first but the semi-beard will have to wait. As for the eyes a few drops of Visine will take care of that.

I head back into the kitchen once I feel somewhat put back together and relax as I lean against the counter top. Monica is scrubbing each pan and dish methodically, singing under her breath to herself. It's so low that she probably doesn't think I hear it but I do and I really like the sound.

I study her as I stand there with my arms crossed against my chest. Her wavy brown hair is tied up high on her head but the length of it still brushes the space between her shoulder blades. She hums some more to herself, swaying from side to side and the sight makes the carnivorous lion want to tear right out of me.

I want to grab her by that ponytail, bend her over that sink and make her scream so fucking loud she... An epiphany smacks me right in the face, right in the middle of the little fantasy taking place inside of my head.

Jesus Christ, what is wrong with me? It would appear I'm turning into Norman Bates. There's worse things, right? Yeah, no, there's probably not.

I take a step towards her not being able to help myself. I wrap my arms around her waist and bend down to place a kiss on her neck. She stands still underneath me but I can tell her breathing has accelerated. "Thank you." I say the words but I want to show her just how thankful I really am. And by show her I really mean pleasure her relentlessly.

"Yooou're," she stutters a bit as I run my tongue slowly along the crook of her neck. "Yooou're welcome." I bite down hard then suck on her skin. She gasps at first but that quickly turns into a small moan. "Sssean..."

I cut her off from what sounds like the possible beginning of a protest by teasing the hem of her jeans with my finger. "I just want to thank you." I unbutton her jeans with one hand as I slip the other inside of them. She's wearing lace panties which turns me on even more. "Can I thank you?" I whisper the words into her ear making her tremble like a little bird inside of my arms.