The lights hurt her eyes but she didn't move. She just watched him collect his clothes and take that special gait of his to her bathroom. He helped himself to her shower and probably helps himself to her soap; she could see the condensation building up on the mirrors and spill out of the bathroom. She sits up and tries to collect what little dignity she has left but it's not much. She tries to give herself a pep talk "Persia, you need get yourself together." When what she really needed was a drink. She laid down on her back intent on going back to her blissfully ignorant sleep. Instead of sleep, all she could conjure up were images of their union.

He's wearing that stupid vest. Her hand is jammed somewhere between our meshed bodies. His hands are at her back unclasping her bra. He presses harder against her; fleshy thighs cushion his hips. Her bra's off, he grunts in triumph. Heavy hands close over her breast he brings his head down; hungrily his mouth closes around a dark pearl. She leans her head back against the wall. She grips his hair pulling his lips back to hers.

He's tugging at her pants she wriggles her hips. Her shorts are passed her thighs along with her panties. She grips his shoulder then sets about the task of undressing him.  She tugs at that damn vest willing it away from them. She gives a satisfied hum when she has it in her hand; she throws it to the floor. They are at her bedroom before she could get those pants off him.

She knows why he's here. He wants to forget. She doesn't mind. She bits into his shoulder intent on marking him not as property but a reminder that she's the best at making him forget. She kisses him again. He's so focused of her body. She's on her knees at the foot of her bed with him behind her feasting on the sight of her.

He's inside of her before she could brace herself. Pounding... fucking...consuming all she could offer. The sound of skin slapping against skin is an all too familiar sound. He reaches around and plays with her clit; he pulls her back against his chest. Her arms encircle his neck and he buries himself deeper.

"Jax?" Normally she didn't dare question him when he was like this: wild, almost feral. He wanted what he wanted, how he wanted it. If he wanted her on her knees, it was done. If he wanted her leg to twist this way, it was twisted to his desire. However, today was different it was as if he was devouring her from the inside. He pulled out; her loins wept at the loss and pushed her onto her back. He plunged in her aching pussy and groaned as she clenched around his dick. She was so tight but he needed this, he needed her.

He moved slower toward the end as though he were memorizing that moment. He buried his face in her neck biting softly at her collarbone. It was only then that she could feel the moisture and hear the small sobs that left his lips. His fingers gripped her hips like a vice. His nails cutting into the skin dying his finger nails red. He cried for a while muted sobs mostly as though the sounds were lodged deep in his throat. Then she held him because there wasn't much else she could do. She held him until his body fell lax and kissed his temple.

Squeak. Clink. Plat. He was out of the shower probably brushing his teeth with the spare brush she'd left out for him. He hated the taste of sleep and cigarettes; she learned that about him in while they spent time in bed.

She turned onto her side. Then winces as the sheets rub against her thighs. She pulls the covers back and looks down at the creastent shaped indents. They throbbed from the tight grip he had on them earlier. Her back is exposed to the frigid air and she pulls the comforter from the foot of her bed up around her and squeezes her eyes closed just as the bathroom door opens. She know he's looking at her with those gorgeous eyes and for a moment, she thinks he believes she's really sleeping until he says-

"I know you're awake," voice gravelly and throaty. The jig up it's too late to pretend she is sleeping, to early to get drunk off her face, and just forget. She opened her eyes and their eyes lock with each other. He breaks the contact and looks around the floor. He's probably looking for that damn cut of his. She takes a moment to just stop and stare at him from her bed. He's still wet but he's pulled on his jeans and shirt. All she can do is sit up and watch him dress reminding her; she had to finish her shift. She pulled herself to the edge of bed. She pulled her comforter around herself and pulled her knees to her chest.

"Why'd you come?" he looks up from the tedious chore of pulling on his socks. She repeats, "why did you come to me?"

"Persia, please don't." He turned away from her. He stole a glance at the alarm clock; he had been gone to long. But he couldn't go home not with his heart still so heavy.

Her long lean legs were perched over her side the side of the bed. Her toes brushed the frigid hardwood beneath. He sighed and ran a hand through pale gold locks. He fell to his knees in front of her, his lips slanted over her in a silencing kiss. At that moment, she just wanted to fall back into bed with him pretend that, he belonged to her even if it was just for the night. He pulled away from her his hands cradling her head as he covered her face with butterfly kisses. He didn't say anything just kissed her and held fast to her as if she was going to fade out if he let go. She looked into his eyes and saw an unspoken anguish. But she knew how this ended, how it always ends.

She watched him pull on his clothes and head towards the door. "I just needed something familiar to hold onto." Then he was gone.