Archive of Our Own

Chica hated this.

The beeping of machines, the blinding lights of the hospital as they buzzed and buzzed on with the electricity flowing through them, hospitals were the bane of her existence for more than that — if she were here, someone was hurt.

This time it just had to be her luck.

She wasn’t a part of the usual gun fights that the boys get themselves into but she just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, her pretty boys all wrapped around her fingers as they left the movie theatre with their hearts full and their minds still buzzing from the experience of watching the comedy, yet things hadn’t stayed that way for long. It hurt her head to think about what happened, especially being so soon after being woken up from her sleep, but throwing an arm over her eyes, flashing imagery of the shoot out that had taken place filling her mind, she breathed in deeply through her nose.

She had been lucky that they had missed a vital organ and, by some miracle, only shot her in the leg a few times as well as in the hip. The blasted things were already stitched and bandaged up but she probably had looked much worse than it had been at the time; she never did well with pain that wasn’t consensual and if the gaps in her memory helped her with anything, she probably had been in shock the rest of that fight. “Stupid mob’stas.” She muttered under her breath and even as it was so quiet, it still echoed around the room she was in.

She could hear the boys talking outside, their accents, their sweet words, they were muffled by the door but she could hear them all the same. Must’ve brought her straight here once the fight had been over, probably stained their nice suits that she had dragged them to the tailor to make.

Maybe it had been a mistake to get them matching white tailored suits, maybe it had been an even bigger mistake to wear her white dress.

“When she wakes up, you’re free to leave — after doing papers of course. Just make sure she gets lots of rest and iron before her next appointment.” Probably some of the worst words she could hear in that moment coming from the doctor; in their minds, the boys probably were already thinking of locking her to her bed and bringing her everything on foot and hand, of making sure that she wouldn’t be able to move unless she went to the bathroom.

And to make things worse, the time come the day after tomorrow, Freddy would be the only one to be with her. This was going to be a long week, especially with holes in her leg. As the door opened and the sound of feet came into the room, she allowed her arm to roll from her face, meeting the concerned eyes of the boys that had basically dragged themselves here despite being hurt themselves. Blood splattered their own clothing, no doubt a mixture of their own and others as well as hers on top of that, seeing the way their brows furrowed and creased as she stared them down.

It was… sweet to see them so exposed like this, so obviously worried, yet as she flashed them a small smile in hopes it would ease their nerves, she watched as Bonnie’s eyes glanced from her wounds and back to her again. “You could’ve died.”

“I know.”

“Why’d ya jump in front of me?” Chica could only shrug at Bonnie’s question, grunting softly as she forced herself into a sitting position, her back growing sweaty from being pressed against the bed for too long. It wasn’t like she had an answer he’d like anyway — it had been a complete accident on her part, an instinct to stick close to the ones closest to her when danger was near. It just so happened to have been in the way of the bullets. She could tell that he wanted to be angry, to yell at her for being so foolish, to yell at her for doing something that she knew may have been dangerous, yet the tenseness of his shoulders sloped as he sighed, his hair that usually was pushed back with gel flopping around his face as he looked at the ground. Even if she couldn’t see his face, she knew that he was struggling to admit his feelings, to admit that he was… human.

“How about we all go home?” She wanted to touch her boys but they were so far away, her arms extending to them as she smiled, “I could use a bath right about now.”

If she had a dollar for every time she was right, she would be able to open up her own organization and over run the boys.

While she had been thankful they hadn’t chained her to her bed and made her ring a bell every time she wanted something, she was still confined to the house, given crutches and even had her bed moved to the bottom floor so then she wouldn’t accidentally open her wounds climbing the stairs. Sure, it was nice knowing that she had free range of things such as the television and whatever was down stairs, but…

Oh fuck, it was just boring.

Her golden hair was fanned out on the sunset-colored sheets of her bed, violet eyes staring at the ceiling as she watched the fan slowly turned on the ceiling above her, pushing the warm air of the Utah heat around her, not doing anything to cool her sweat covered skin as she let the hours tick by. If she wasn’t watching the fan spin, she was changing her bandages when needed, when she wasn’t doing that, she was reading, or watching television, or rummaging around the kitchen for something that probably didn’t exist.

If Foxy and Bonnie were here, they would at least provide some sort of content to talk to, maybe she would even enjoy their bickering for once over that weird jar of pickles Foxy seemed to be so insistent on keeping in the fridge, but like Freddy they weren’t there. Apparently there had been something about the men sent to gather intelligence being jumped and captured, mafia mafia mafia, bullshit bullshit, bullshit, she hadn’t been listening after the first bit but she knew that it needed to be sought to. At least they had a reason to be away for so long.

Freddy was rarely home.

Maybe it was the small part of her inside that knew that Freddy was upset at himself, upset at the fact that she had been hurt when she had nothing to do with the situation at hand, but at the same time she wanted him to coddle her, care for her, not the little time he spends with her when he comes home to give her food, change or sleep.

Her head shot up from the bed, those lavender eyes of hers staring at the crutches that sat against her bed, the grips worn from the number of times they had been dragged from the closet for the boys and now herself. She could still move about; she could still drive since her driving leg hadn’t been shot at. A small smile etched its way across her face at the thought, grabbing her crutches as she slid herself from the bed.

If Freddy wouldn’t come and see her, she would go and see him, she knew where he would be, knew that he would be helping his men pick up the slack for the men that weren’t there, he couldn’t hide from her there. Yes, it was full proof, idiot proof at that, the smile only seeming growing wider and wider before falling again: how was she going to get up her stairs? Staring at the crutches that helped her stand, she stared to and from the stairs and the third and fourth temporary legs.

“… It has been a week since the shooting.” She muttered to herself, letting the cogs in her mind turn over and over again before she pressed her foot down on the ground, pins and needles shooting up her leg for a moment before fading, wiggling her toes on the plush carpet.

It didn’t hurt to put pressure on it as much as it had been a few days ago nor did it hurt as she began to walk up the stairs, holding the crutches in her hands as moral support as she forced herself up the stairs. Maybe it was a stupid idea to consider forcing herself as she did, maybe it might kick her in the ass later for using muscles that hadn’t been used in a week in such a way, but as she made it to the top of the stairs, she smiled as she stared down at them.

“Dunno what the doctor was saying…” she half muttered to herself, allowing herself to half wobble down the hallway as she spoke, “I can walk just fine — in fact, I feel better than ever!” Or at least that’s what she told herself, her leg feeling stiff and reluctant as she put each step forward. She’d probably need the crutches a bit longer to make sure her leg caught up with the rest of her body, but seeing the bright colors of her room for the first time in a week, she smiled and spread her arms in the midst of the doorway.

“Freddy, here I come.”

The smell of sweaty men never got easier, even with the amount of time she had spent in and around her boys’ main building of action to the point it still made her eyes water every time she first stepped over the threshold, it was always so pungent, so strong, so… disgusting. She was sure it would sink into her clothes like the smell always did, mixing in with the smell of her perfumes and body wash that she so precisely picked out based on her target’s interests.

If it wasn’t the smells that she had that made her stand out, it certainly was her attire; bright and cheerful, her pinstripe skirt and jacket being a needle in a haystack as she wobbled through the crowd on her half stiff leg, her entire look coordinated around the concept of being able to move safely as her crutches gave a soft tap, tap, tap. If the men that stared at her knew anything about why she hadn’t been around, they certainly kept their mouths shut, sticking to their own little groups as she went right on by.

After the death of one of their own by their own bosses due to getting too close a few months ago, the goonies of each of her boys didn’t even approach her unless she approached them first. It was practically ideal — sure, it had required for her to lose one of her favorite dresses, bed spreads and the main hall’s carpet, but it had been worth it in the end. The fear in their eyes as they stepped out of her way, the way they forced themselves to look at the ground once they finally realized who they were looking at, it frankly was just something that made her insides giddy; they were treating her just like her boys, someone to be respected, someone to be feared.

Thinking about the fear in men’s hearts wasn’t her goal, however, her lavender eyes focused directly in front of her as she navigated the building, paying no attention to the contraband that surrounded her at every turn — it was just their business, she didn’t need to sticky nose herself into it.

“What in the world does the concept of a ‘quiet clean up’ mean that the police find their innards strewn across the local park?” Freddy’s voice near boomed in the halls, Chica quickening her step as she listened to his voice come closer, closer, “now the pigs are looking directly at us, do you know how much business you’ve costed us between our clients because we need to lay low?”

Freddy’s back was turned to her as she entered the room, his form looming over some man covered in tattoos as he cowered beneath the bear-like man. Even if the tattooed man was around six feet tall, Freddy still towered over him like a god, his broad shoulders to his large belly being enough to make him seem larger than he was — It took a special kind of man to do that, and Freddy had the personality to match. She could see the way his fingers twirled around a cigar; fingernails yellowed slightly against his brown skin from his years of nasty habit. Even if she couldn’t see his face, she knew it was almost nothing, nothing would show on his face, his rage that contained, controlled yet bubbling like a volcano underneath that surface of his.

Yet as he straightened up, brown curls bouncing in what sunlight seeped in between curtains, she could see his shoulders relax with tension that eased, “You’re just lucky Bonnie isn’t here.”

Oh yes, Bonnie, normally he would be in charge of dealing with this sort of stuff, making sure to make every mistake some sort of lesson to everyone else — be it death or maiming that would remain with the person for the rest of their lives, but Freddy wasn’t anywhere like that. Posh men like to keep their fingers clean of the sticky red, something that Chica admired even if she herself had gotten herself covered at least once before.

Letting her eyes focus on his fingers, watching as he twirled his cigar between his fingers without letting the lit end come anywhere near his skin, she couldn’t help but think about the way his flesh always seemed to burn against her own, leaving imprints that only she could feel, only she could experience every time she was touched by him. The first time, the last time, they all felt the same to her in the end, that same electrifying feeling of sparks dancing under her skin — she knew the full extent of what those fingers could do against her sinful flesh, of how they were able to grab and tease and mold her to what he wished without even a hint of restraint.

The stinging tease of a slap against her bare buttocks, the soothing touch of them dancing down her back in slow moments, she could visual them all in her mind, everything that she had been craving, everything that she wanted from him in that moment, in that week, she was sure that if he was water, she’d be drinking him down every day. His touch, his words, those eyes, they were intoxicating.

When he turned, his large body about to exit the scene, she watched as those blue eyes locked onto her, watched as they widened and the cigar near dropped from his hand — he frankly looked like a doe in headlights with the way he stared her down, frozen in his spot until he rushed to meet her where she stood, placing a hand against her lower back as he spoke, “what are you doing here?” He hissed; his voice lowered as to not draw attention from those that passed through.

“Can’t a man’s girl visit him while he’s at work?” Freddy’s eyes narrowed at her as she spoke, those baby blues of his snapping between the crutches in her hands and her own eyes, “I’m not in pain, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But you should be in bed,” Freddy said, “your wounds could open up.” Even if he tried to be stern, even if he tried to keep the emotion from his voice, he was as easy to read as a book to the woman as she placed a hand against his covered chest, letting her thumb rub circles into it as she smiled.

“But I missed you, my love tank is running empty.” She could feel his body warm under her hand, feel the way he stiffened as she smiled, dropping her crutches as she let herself fall against his stomach, hearing his heart skip a beat as she pressed herself against him. “Oops, dropped my crutches.”

“Chica.” Warning one. It was a simple one, her name being used in a tone that usually was kept for at home, but yet as she looked up at Freddy, her lips drawing a small pout, she let her fingers splay against his shirt, feeling as much of him as she could. How long had it been since they had been this close, to be able to touch and hold each other? Time seemed to just fly by and be a cruel mistress all the same. “Is…” Ah, he finally noticed, “is that the suit we bought you?”

Indeed, it was, letting off a soft hum that rumbled in her throat, she could feel his thumb rub small circles into her lower back, taking in the look of her in her pretty orange and yellow pinstripes. It had been a birthday gift, a near joke considering how much she tended to meddle in their business and thus had sat in her closet collecting dust — until now, at least. It framed her body, showed off her curves, matched the pretty little white shirt she nicked out of Foxy’s closet that he never wore.

A put together woman, one that was ready to take the world on without any questions asked, one that was ready to put anyone in their place. “Does it look good?”

She could feel his fingers grip slightly at the blazer as he mumbled a soft “yes”, red painted lips growing — she had him snared. If there was one thing she had picked up between her time in their odd relationship dynamic with her and the boys, it was the fact that Freddy’s eyes always seem to linger on the other two when they were dressed up nicely, fine, just like him. She knew how his eyes had lingered when she had first received the suit she wore now, how they had burned with some desire that bubbled beneath the surface that she hadn’t placed at the time.

Her darling Freddy loved the concept of people in suits. With his attention on her, battling between being the caring partner and wanting to probably bend her over right there, she knew she had his attention fully. “How about we go to my office?”

Captured fully on the hook, his blue eyes seemed to cloud over as she pulled away, her own blonde hair, crimped and teased to impress, framing her face as she bent over to pick up her crutches, “I was wondering you’d never ask,” she begun, allowing the man crafted legs to sit underneath her arms, “this has been the longest time on my feet in quite a bit.” A truth coated with a sweet-sounding voice, as she knew he only wanted to move out of the area considering any of the men could see how damn whipped he was for his dearest baby, but yet as she followed alongside him, she watched as he stubbed out his cigar.

“You know, you must stop that habit,” she teased, watching as his fingers wiped against his pretty vest to rid themselves of the ashes, “smoking does no good for you.”

“Not like you’re any better, Chica.” While that may be true with the cigarettes she smoked on occasion, her shoulders squared and her eyes narrowed, gently touching her foot against his for a moment with her next step, “I know, I know, my breath stinks.”

Well, they at least were able to agree on one thing.

As they drew closer to where his office lay the halls only seemed to grow less and less populated. The men that worked for the boys rarely needed to see Freddy due to the nature of his instructions but even those that needed him knew that it was a better chance to try and catch him while he was still outside. Thankfully, as they drew closer to the stepping stone to her goal, the smell of dirty men and gunpowder begun to fade, incense and other smells filling her nose as she passed by unlabeled doors — they hated the smell of sweat as much as she did, yet the smells and incenses were new, her nose perking up as she sniffed at the air.

“It’s a trial run for something I found in the down town, I hope you like it.” It wasn’t something she could complain about, no, in fact it was a major improvement compared to what she had braced herself to smell, yet as she was ushered into the office, the smell only grew stronger. “Help yourself to the minibar, I needed to come back here to go through the list Bonnie left me.”

Had he really just left her to use the desk as a barrier? Was he seriously attempting to brush her off like that? She was dressed up nicely, her hair done and she had walked all this way with crutches underneath her arms, how dare he try to brush her off like that? “But Freddy —.”

“Why are you even here anyway? You’re meant to be at home, resting.” Oh, so he wanted to play it that way? Even if her leg was still stiff, even if she knew that walking on it probably still wasn’t the best idea, she tossed her crutches onto one of the nearby chairs as she stomped her way towards Freddy, his blue eyes wide as she closed the gap so naturally, so demanding in each step, in each huff. A woman on a mission, a woman that knew what she wanted.

“Fredrick, you are not brushing me off that easy.” That stupid bolo tie that he wore half the time certainly worked in her favor today, as with one pull of the strings he bent to her will, with one pull of that stupid tie he was at lip level with her, his mighty form reduced to one that could only gawk and stare at her in shock. She usually never acted like this, she usually at least gave them some sort of warning that she was frustrated, angry even, but she knew that there was a fury burning behind her iris that Freddy had not been prepared for and so she took that shock, took that moment of awe from him to seal those kissable lips in a kiss that she had been longing for — and to her surprise, he kissed back, feeling the way he melted into her.

They say that a woman’s scorn is more powerful than hell’s fury, but so was a woman’s passion, Chica putting her all into the kiss as she wanted to show him all the longing, all the pain, all the frustration that he had given to her over the course of only one week, one week without being touched, one without intimacy that drove her near mad and yet her lover seemed to mirror it, each kiss — short and long — being ones that made her feel warm all over. She could still feel his hesitance, feel the way his fingers twitched against her waist and while it was less than ideal, it frankly was just something.

“You really are persistent.” Freddy muttered the moment Chica broke apart for air, watching as his blue eyes swam with emotions that even she couldn’t figure out. Fear, lust, concern, love, they all seemed to swim in those beautiful eyes of his and yet there was not one that dominated the other, feeling how one of his hands came from her waist to brush away a wisp of hair.

“Only for you.” Letting go of his tie to sit up on his desk, she moved papers and files away from the edge where they lay, letting her sore feet dangle off the ground once she was fully seated, letting her arms and legs spread enough to let him into her personal space, “please?” Even with those conflicted eyes, even with his hesitance, watching the way he submitted into his own wants, submitted into his own urges was enough to make her squeal as he slotted himself between her legs, placing her hands on his own shoulders.

“I just wanted to control myself to let you heal.” There were words that lingered on the tip of his tongue, ones that made his jaw clench slightly as he chewed them down, but leaning down to press his nose against her neck, he breathed in her scent for a moment, taking in the smell of vanilla and tea before he laid a gentle kiss along her jugular, “but I guess a brat never truly rests.” Chica only hummed in response to his statement, letting her fingers play with his brown curls, feeling the way his lips and teeth nibbles and kissed at her skin, not biting — no, she had still been good enough to not be bitten, yet. She had came to him nicely, asked for the attention she craved and even if she hadn’t gotten what she wanted, some attention was better than none.

Hands all over her, teeth nipping at her exposed neck, Chica felt like she was high in the clouds, high above the world and into the stars, it was euphoria, it was addicting, she didn’t know how she had even survived so long without caving into her desires sooner, how she had allowed him to be away from her for so long. The frustration only fueled her forth thinking about it, letting her hands wander all over him; she needed to touch him, feel him, yet his clothes were constricting her rediscovery, restricting her from her goal, a frustrated grunt escaping from her own throat as she reached for the tie, beginning to pull it loose before her hands were caught.

“Who says that you’re the one in control now, darling?” His voice muttered against her neck in a growl, her skin rising in goosebumps all over as she felt the ghost of his teeth once more, his thumbs rubbing small circles over her pulse points on her wrists.

“But I want to touch you.” Feel the warmth under his skin, feel the way his skin felt against her palm, she wanted to see him bare for her, bare and showering her in the love and attention she craved and deserved and wanted right now, each taunting second feeling longer than the last as he pulled away enough to look her in the eye, “I need to touch you.” She hadn’t meant for her voice to come out in a whine, her own eyes widening as she heard her own desperation be vocalized in such a way. Goodness, had she really become so needy that she herself hadn’t even noticed the levels that she was reaching? It seemed so — and yet Freddy’s eyes could only twinkle in amusement, twinkle with that look that she knew only meant trouble.

“Are you really that desperate to have your pretty cunt filled?” And it hit Chica like a tidal wave, her body warming so quickly that she swore she could see the heat rise from her skin right in front of her eyes, all too exposed to the predator that held her captive against his very desk in that moment as his eyes roamed her body, “knows she needs to be a good girl and rest yet presents herself like a whore to the people she knows can scratch that itch.”

Yes, yes, she needed him to touch her, to feel her, to be inside of her, she needed to be able to scream his name from wall to wall until she was sated and satisfied, nodding her head along to each of Freddy’s words as he spoke, feeling the heat pool down south between her southern lips, ones that desperately craved the same attention her mouth had received.

“Now, why shouldn’t I indulge?”

Yes. Yes.

Heart fluttering, racing, adrenaline pumping through her veins, this was all she dreamed of for the past week, all she visioned behind her closed lids every time she let her mind wander.

Yet even a woman can be blue balled, hearing a knock at the office door that sent the two of them scrambling to put themselves back together — it wasn’t the first time that a goon had interrupted them, nor was it the last, but that door’s lock had been broken for a while and they could not risk it. Watching as Freddy smoothed his hair back, calling to the goon to let himself in, Chica watched as an older looking gentleman walked in carrying an open envelope with him.

“Left this on my station,” the gentleman coughed, passing the envelope to Freddy as if he couldn’t see that he had a lady over, “The Aftons really have been pestering you three lately.” Aftons? Chica’s ears were peeked and even if the throb of her lady bits was defiantly a mood killer, curiosity was perhaps her worst sin, looking around Freddy’s shoulder to stare at what she could see of the letter.

‘A get together?’ Now she knew that Freddy hated the Aftons, especially their head, but his father had kept a good reputation with them only because they seemed to have a lady luck up their sleeve. She could see the way his fingers creased the paper as he talked yet didn’t object as she slid the letter from his grasp, crossing her legs as she allowed herself to read through the invite.

“A plus one is needed?” She questioned under her breath, the older man’s eyes scanning her up and down as his attention drew to her.

“Yeah, some shit abo’t it not causing anybody to do something stupid.”

Like a shootout. While they were cordial with other gangs and mafias that resided in their space, they certainly weren’t the type to be friendly unless they had mutual ground. Even if she could see the way his shoulders stiffened, even if she could see the tension building in his brow, it seemed that the other man didn’t see it or just didn’t acknowledge it as he said a few more words before leaving, the door shutting with a heavy click behind him.

And for the first time that evening, she heard Freddy sigh. “I’m assuming you want to go?” He didn’t even turn around, didn’t even turn his head to look her in the eye as he spoke, pulling a cigar from his vest pocket before turning the other way to find a match.

“Of course, I want to!” the invite was left on the desk as she jumped off, circling around Freddy until she stood in front of him, watching as he struck the match against the box it came from once, twice, until it lit up, quickly lighting his cigar before fanning the flame out. “The Aftons never host parties at their home, don’t you see Freddy? It’s a perfect chance to get to find something to black mail.”

“Blackmail?” Freddy muttered, thumbing the unlit end of the cigar as he brought it out from his mouth, smoke bellowing out from his nostrils as he breathed out, “nobody got the guts to do that.”

“So why not be the first and the best?”

If there was one thing that Freddy liked, it was being in control, if there was something that he liked even above that, it was the idea of being the first to be able to do something, anything that got his leg up and over the rest of the competition be it a stranger passing by on the street or his closest friend. Those cogs in his head turned and turned, each faster than the last as he allowed himself to take into consideration the idea Chica proposed, the idea that stroked his fire in a way that no one else would be able to do on their own.

He really was thinking it over. Her entire body suppressed the urge to jitter about as she waited, watching as each cog turned in those beautiful eyes she adored, calculating the risks, the rewards, the respect that probably would be earned through the action of finding a way to blackmail the Aftons.

“Perhaps,” Freddy begun, his voice low as he looked down at the woman with a small smirk, “that may not be a bad idea after all.” Oh, she didn’t truly care about finding a way to black mail the Aftons, to be able to become the king pins, it was the fact that Freddy had taken her idea and praised her for it even if she may have just planted the concept in his head. To receive the praise of the man, to be told that maybe her idea wasn’t just wistful thinking, it made her feel more useful, more able, more a part of the business that they had slowly let her into as time went on.

She felt as their equal in the business in more than just being their lover, but as a business partner.

“So, we’re going, are we, are we?” Chica questioned with a smile, Freddy taking her hands into one of his as she bounced, feeling the way his thumb easily grazed over her knuckles, “after all, you do need a plus one.”

“And a new suit.” Oh yeah, she had forgotten about the whole blood stains in his evening suit thing. Letting him break away from her hold, her warmth, she watched as he balanced the cigar between his teeth, his hands going out of her sight as she watched as he rummaged around through the desk, “you still remember my size, right?”

“Of course, always have it written down.” As she did with both Bonnie and Foxy, the small notepad in her purse practically her own little treasure of secrets and knowledge that stayed with her constantly holding everything down to the type of fabric he’d want. It was all to make sure she wouldn’t make a mistake, that she would always make her boys happy. As Freddy’s hands reemerged from behind the desk, the blank cheque with his signature already printed on it, Chica’s heart swelled as she took it into her hands, looking between the male and her hands.

Blank cheques were almost like liquid gold to the woman, especially in a world where their money was made on a vastly different career than most — no limits, no consequences, she was free to spend as much as she needed to, within reason of course. Foxy was the most lenient about them but to get one from Freddy? You might as well have won the lottery.

“Get yourself something nice while you’re at it, too.”

“Oh, I love ya!” Rushing around the desk to throw her arms around the male, she could feel the way he staggered back slightly despite the fact that he was a giant compared to her before his hands pressed against the small of her back, giving her a soft squeeze while she chattered over and over — mostly to herself — as she began to exit the room. Even if Freddy didn’t understand half the things that his dear girl was saying from her talking too fast, he knew that she was beyond happy with the way she bounced and pranced her way from the room.

Letting his eyes roam to the chair nearby, the crutches sat there nice and propped up, ready and waiting for the next time that they were to be used. Shaking his head softly at the sight, he picked up the wooden tools and placed them behind his desk, smelling her perfume on them as if she was still there.

At least she wasn’t mad anymore.

The Aftons were wealthy, Chica already knew that, but to be standing in their main foyer that was larger than her living room made her feel tiny in comparison. Even if few had been invited in comparison to the amount of crime that welcomed those in their city the sea of people she watched pass to and from each room made her feel as if there were a lot more.

People here were at least civil even if they still may have a gun strapped to their waists, Chica able to count at least four from where she stood beside Freddy, his discussion with another boss blurring into the noise as she tried to find anyone else she knew. She was no boss, she was not even someone who had been born into the crime of the city but she knew few from her times stepping in to help — mostly women, the boys dare never send her to discuss with a man in their steed — but even as she swore she saw a familiar broach, or a familiar set of curls, they all turned out to be other people.

People that sized her up and down once they had caught her gaze, people that judged her clothes despite her wearing the beautiful cocktail dress she had seen in the window of a store. It made her feel naked, exposed, cuddling closer to Freddy from where his elbow locked with her own.

And she was already beginning to get hungry.

Her stomach growled and gurgled, her free hand coming to rest over it as she attempted to still its grumbles yet it only seemed to make their grumbles more frequent, her face reddening as she looked between the kitchen and Freddy, letting her arm slip from his as she moved away, “Just heading to the buffet.” She wasn’t sure if he had even heard her but she was going to presume he did from the way he gave her a quick glance, one that let her knew that he heard her, that he had understood her intent even as she slipped away into the crowd. Between conversations and around other party goers, Chica did her best to keep herself as small as she could between the crowd, her lavender eyes scanning for openings as she went, finding her way into the kitchen that people had begun to file out of.

Her hands were slightly clammy as she grabbed a plate, holding it slightly tighter than she would normally as she browsed the options, her throat rumbling with a silent groan as she took in each of the options; they were all those fancy dishes, ones that didn’t have any flavor nor effort put into having any, ones that looked pretty over their tastes and her tongue basically shriveled into the back of her mouth at the thought. Had she really fought her way through a crowd in order to be served shit like this? Pressing her lips, she grabbed the serving spoon in the salad and began to pile some on.

Food was food, she could eat something much more delightful when she got home.

“Not many good choices, are there?” A slightly congested voice said from behind her, Chica’s eyes momentarily leaving the buffet to look at the man that had approached her — she knew his face but yet his name remained in the abyss of her mind, one that she couldn’t call to the front even if she tried. “Then again, they’re the only chefs that want to work with the Aftons.”

“Shame,” Chica muttered softly, scooping some of the sopping wet mess that she assumed was steak onto her plate, “with all that money, you’d assume anyone would want to work with them.” She wanted this conversation over quickly, quietly, already feeling how the uninvited guest’s fingers danced around her exposed lower back, the dress she wore having a dangerous dip that left nothing really to the imagination.

If he paid attention, he would probably see the various scars that covered her back from nights of passion, ones that she shared with her boys when nights got a bit too warm.

The uninvited guest’s hand got bolder, feeling how his greasy hand laid flat against her back as she attempted to step away, keeping her in the position she was in. “You know, my father owns some restaurants around here,” oh no, a father’s boy, “I could always take you to one of those, tonight is Italian night.”

A rejection was on the tip of her tongue, one that lingered there are her lavender eyes looked over her shoulder to find her man in the crowd in hopes that he was already making his way over to get the vile man’s hand off of her, but yet her eyes widened, her grip on the plate growing tighter as she saw a sight that could rival a fury of a Valkyrie; pretty, tall, long black hair that cascaded down her back, the woman that was talking to Freddy practically was rubbing herself on him and he wasn’t even pushing her away.

Had she really become that undesirable that he shamelessly allowed himself to be clung onto like that? Letting her head snap forward in front of her, staring at her plate as if it were the devil incarnate, her mind raced, blood boiled and bubbled beneath her skin. She wasn’t the jealous type, at least, that’s what she liked to think, but seeing that woman look at him in a way that was meant only for Chica to do sent her mind into a flurry of rage. Was this revenge for when she had done it to them? Was he really that ready to move onto the next woman he could fuck?

Setting her plate down, she suddenly didn’t feel hungry.

“Are you ok? You’re a bit pale.”

Her eyes snapped towards the sleaze that stood beside her — no, his name was Tyler, she remembered him now; he had tried to make a deal with Bonnie a few months ago in order to militarize on another gang’s territory, one that had been rejected right off the bat. From what she had been able to hear, he had basically sworn he would find a way into getting that deal, find a way that exposed their weakness. She wanted to scoff at her own realization — of course he would think she was an in, misogyny still ran like a fire through the underbelly, one that made her look like easy picking, but yet the woman’s eyes glistened at opportunity, one that killed two birds with one stone.

Step on this man’s balls emotionally enough to make sure he won’t come near her again and get even with Freddy.

“Honestly, that sounds like a good idea.” Twisting herself from the man’s grasp, she flipped the tables by clinging to his arm, making sure that she turned up her own charm as she looked at him. Without heels she was practically the same height as Tyler, able to smell the body odor that only seemed to come when a man hadn’t bothered to shower for weeks on end. “Let’s go and ask Freddy.”

“Wait—.” He hadn’t probably counted on the idea of Chica actually involving her boyfriend in the mess and that’s exactly what she wanted, practically dragging him through the crowd, calling the bigger man’s name as she did so. If Freddy was big against Chica, he was huge against Tyler, able to feel the way his arm began to tremble in her grip as she approached the two.

And if he wasn’t scared of Freddy already, he certainly was when his expression shifted from friendly to a silent warning, his smile dropping slightly as those blue eyes of his shifting between Chica’s loving gaze and how she held Tyler’s arm.

“He’s inviting me to go to his daddy’s restaurant, can I please go?”

And his smile dropped further; she could read his face, watching his eyes go from slightly annoyed to silently raging, his fingers twitching from where they were pressed on the other woman’s shoulders before they removed themselves, Freddy’s hand finding its way around her closer forearm before dragging her away from Tyler.

“Outside, now.”

The crowd’s noises dimmed away as the two made their way outside, the last remnants of sun barely a sliver in the sky as Freddy dragged her away from the house, away from the prying eyes of those that would want to ruin their careers. His grip was rough, bruising, possessive, protective, everything that she liked in him, especially as he spun himself around to look at her.

There was the Freddy she knew.

“What in the fuck is wrong with you?” He hissed, each of his words calculated yet dripping with anger, “Chica, do you know where we are?”

“I perfectly know where we’re at, Fredrick,” The grass crunched under her foot as she stomped it down, watching the way Freddy’s eyes only narrowed further at the mention of his full name, “but what were you doing with her?”

“Her?” His voice raised slightly, his grip loosening on her arm, “Chica, she forced herself upon me — are you fucking jealous here of all places?”

Freddy grabbed her hand before it could strike him across the face, Chica struggling in his hold as she yelled, “I am not jealous!” oh she certainly was, there was no mistaking the burning anger in her gut, the pit that only seemed to get bigger the more Freddy stared her down. She wanted to slap him, to scream at him, let out all the frustration that she had been building up in her over the past week. She wanted to let him know.

“Chica, if you don’t stop, I will punish you.”

Those words were ones that usually made her excited, usually made her giddy, yet she couldn’t even feel it under her blinding rage, those words only seeming to make it erupt as she finally forced herself away, the wet grass brushing against her exposed ankles. “As if I hadn’t even been punished enough.” Her hands flew to her chest, nails digging into her own flesh as she allowed the tears to bloom, “Freddy, you haven’t touched me for a week,” her voice had become low, wavering, the makeup beginning to run as she allowed her tears to begin to flow — she wasn’t sad, no, that burning rage, that hot desire to make him understand, it just flowed out of her as she allowed her head to finally hang low, “am I really that undesirable to you?”

His grip returned, pinning her in place where she stood, blue meeting lavender in a battle that sat there, unyielding, unwilling to back down, “Chica, you are being unreasonable.” Unreasonable, unreasonable? She had poured her heart out, all her feelings, all her woes of the past week and he calls her unreasonable? She may look crazy with mascara streaming down her face, her hair wild and needing to be pinned in order to not lash out, but yet her heart was wavering, seeing the way he looked at her.

It was the warmest he had looked at her in a week.

“Freddy, I miss being wanted.” Freddy’s hands, his hands gripped her tighter as her head fell forward, the grass painting a green hue against her shoes suddenly becoming more interesting, “I miss you.” She missed the way he held her, talked to her, felt her, commanded her — she was a woman with wants, feelings.

The party was a distant melody in the background as Freddy pulled his hands away, slowly, carefully as he stepped back to give space between them. He was angry, he was hurt, she didn’t even need to look at him to know with the way he let out that soft breath, rattling in his chest.

“Get in the car,” he muttered after a pregnant pause, Chica’s head lifting slightly in response, “we’re going home.”

She just wanted to go home too.

The city lights seemed like a daze as she watched them go by, each of them flickering, dancing their own invisible song, lavender eyes hanging half open as she counted the seconds between each one as they passed by. Freddy barely said any words, barely had looked at her on the way home, barely acknowledged her presence as she spent the long minutes curled up on the leather seat, goosebumps rising to her skin as the bitter night finally kissed and nipped her exposed flesh, reminding her that she should be inside by now, resting in her bed.

Not even the radio provided her company as it droned on a song she had a million times before.

“We’re almost home.” The first thing he had said to after they left, yet Chica didn’t move from her spot as she pressed her cheek against the window, watching as their street came into view as they turned into it, the quaint, quiet little houses neatly lined up one by one as they passed by them. Closer to home, closer to her bed, closer to being able to curl up and fall asleep.

Closer to remembering this awful night.

“Chica, are you angry?” Of course she was, of course she was seething in her seat, seething that he had treated her like that, seething that he had practically pushed aside her worried, seething that he — “I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

What?

Peeling her face away from the window, she turned her body enough to stare at the man in the driver’s seat, noting how his usually neat hair was astray, unkempt, long strands of hair brushing against his jaw as he kept his eyes on the road. “But I allow you to hurt me.”

“This time is different, this time — fuck.” Turning into their driveway tightly, Chica struggled to keep herself from slamming into the window, her fingers splayed as she pressed against the pane of glass, her breath in short labors as she struggled to take in that quick movement, “sorry, almost missed the driveway.”

“It’s… fine…” Her eyes flickered toward the door handle and back to Freddy, watching the way his forehead kissed the wheel as he muttered to himself, words too fast from his lips that she couldn’t even understand; it was rare to see the man like this, rare to see Freddy so flustered, especially as his eyes locked with her own, staring at her as if she were the only thing in the world at that very moment.

Remorse.

“Chica, you got shot because of me.”

“And?”

Watching as his eyes fluttered for a moment, all his emotions laid bare in that tiny cramped space and swimming in his bright blue eyes, his hands grasped at hers and brought them close to his heart, “Chica, you could’ve died.” And it hit her all at once; it wasn’t the fact that she had been shot he was so frightened of to the point he did not dare lay his hands on her.

It was her life that he treasured most.

The range of emotion that flowed through her system, flowed into her eyes, she had to wretch a hand away from her dearest to wipe at her already running mascara; her rage still simmered, but it was slowly beginning to cool, Chica letting the knowledge that Freddy had bestowed swallow her in a pool of grief. “God — Fred, I’m so sorry.” Enveloped in big arms, held in his embrace, Chica allowed herself to take in his warmth and comfort as he held her tight.

Even if they weren’t going to get married due to their lives it, Chica swore that she could hear his heart mutter soft wedding vows as he held her close, her ear listening to the soft thumping of his heart. It was serene, it was quiet, it was a lover’s bliss that she couldn’t help but bask in its glow.

That was until two taps and a press to her elbow.

‘Do you still want to play?’ Those words echoed in her mind, a lump building up in her throat as she weighed the opportunity on her mind, swirling, whirling as she slowly removed herself from his hold, looking into his eyes as she tried to see if there was any hesitance, any self-doubt of his own choice at all. All she saw was love, pride, the kind that made her heart swell knowing it was all for her and so repeating his actions on his elbow, he gave a soft nod.

“Go ahead, I’ve got to make a quick call.” A gentle squeeze to her hand as he passed the keys, a reassuring smile before Freddy pulled away, fishing his phone from somewhere as Chica slipped out of the car and into the night air. The goosebumps returned yet they weren’t ones of cold, they were ones that prickled her skin with delight, ones that made her bounce and hop towards the door, using the house key to open the front door as she strode in, turning lights on as she did so.

Even if she couldn’t run, even if her leg was more sore than usual, she did everything faster than what she would normally, stripping the cocktail dress from her figure as she closed the blinds, letting the fabric wrinkle on the floor — she knew she wouldn’t wear it again anyway, the fabric had been far too itchy, far too draggy on her poor skin, the kind that made her skin jump in happiness once she had stripped it from her body, her bed welcoming her weight as she fell back into it. It comforted her, took the stress off her leg as she basked in the warmth of her covers, the only thing covering her being her black lace panties, nipples left exposed to the air as she sighed.

Who knew that a bed could be so comfortable after spending a week cooped up in it?

As the door opened and shut, the sounds of the deadbolts locking into place as Freddy came through, she could feel her shoulders stiffen and straighten, sitting up on the bed as she watched as Freddy’s hair shined in the light, noting the soft bags underneath his eyes as he loosened his tie that drooped like a wilting flower, deep and dark compared to his blue as he smiled her way.

The definition of tired, the definition of exhausted, she could feel her own heart ache for him as he closed the distance, Chica reaching up to cup his face between her own hands, feeling the way a week’s stubble bit into the palm of her hand. “I’m not going to break, Freddy.” She whispered, watching as Freddy nuzzled his nose into her palm, taking in her scent despite the fact the perfume had long since gone away, the evening only seeming to draw her closer to his body heat as he enveloped her in his arms.

“I know,” his words were soft and tender as he kissed their way up her arm, the goosebumps already there only seeming to grow stronger in his wake with each electrifying kiss, with his lingering touch, “that’s why I’m going to punish you for earlier, and before that too.” Even as he spoke those words, she knew his eyes scanned her expression, her body, looking for any sign of discomfort before locking her lips with his own, the frustrations that she felt only coming back full force as she allowed herself to drown in his aura. Like him, his kisses were always so overwhelming, engulfing, yet so indulgent and perfect, feeling the way his hands groped her body, feeling her skin against his hand.

Letting her hands slide down to his collar, she attempted to pull him closer, the gap between their bodies enough that she yearned for more of his touch, yet his hands easily grabbed at her wrists, pulling away enough that all she could reach were the lower part of his arms, a low whine escaping from the woman’s throat as she found herself at his mercy. “Freddy.”

“You were still naughty tonight,” she could hear the amusement in his voice despite his face not moving, she could see the jest in his eyes as he lightly drummed his fingers against her skin, each drum sending shock waves up her spine, “I believe you need to work for it.”

“That’s not—.”

“Everything needs work.” He knew how to press her buttons, knew how to make her bratty temper rise, especially as he tapped the tip of her nose. It was things like that she knew was playing but at the same time she wanted to bite back, catching his finger between her teeth before he was able to pull it completely back, lightly biting down on the flesh.

The flash of shock that went through his eyes followed by that dark look she loved so much, she knew that she had taken the bait like a dumb fish to a lure but seeing her man like this, ready to put her in her place, it was something she wanted — but it wasn’t completely for her own satisfaction; she knew how he was stressed, even as he had entered their little play, she wanted to see that stress melt away as he pounded her into the sheets, pounded her until her throat was raw and hoarse with his name on her tongue the whole way.

“I could always find someone else if you don’t give me what I want, Freddy.”

A straw that broke the camel’s back, Chica found herself on her back as quick as a flash, the sound of fabric tearing filling her ears as the cold air hit her already dripping slit, a cry of anger dying on the tip of her tongue as a finger swiped up her already flowing juices, Freddy bringing it to his face as he studied it.

“You want to be pleased that badly?” He questioned, Chica nodding her head quickly as she watched Freddy’s mind whirl, twirl, those beautiful cogs in his brain working faster than before, more serious than before, especially as his eyes met hers, “then you’ll cry for it.”

Chica barely had the time to respond, barely had the time to be able to comprehend the severity of what Freddy was suggesting until she was thrust onto her back, the comforters providing soft landing for her head as she heard Freddy drop to his knees between her legs, the ruffling of his pants, the way his threw his suit jacket to God knows where in the room as she forced herself to still, her heart pumping through her veins. They had always discussed crying as a part of their scenarios, crying to show their power imbalance, crying to show how good Chica felt, but the way he had said those words weren’t ones that planned on giving pleasure to her, no, they had a different goal in mind.

Feeling Freddy’s hands ghost her thighs before grabbing hold, fingers digging into flesh as he got himself comfortable. She hadn’t shaved down there for at least a week and she frankly couldn’t help but cover her face slightly, ears warming as she tried to guess what Freddy was thinking — a soft kiss to her outer lips, however, made her whole-body jump, hearing the way the man chuckles against her skin as he kissed her stomach.

“You’re trying to torture me.” She couldn’t help but mutter under her breath, feeling the way his breath ghosted over her thigh, knowing that his eyes were fully focused on her soaking cunt, watching the way she most likely dripped with need despite being so withdrawn, so held back. It was a complete flip, a switch on its head, especially with the way Freddy came upon her cunt like a man starving for water, his mouth and tongue dancing over her folds, her clit, her trembling skin, playing her like an instrument that he had been playing with for years.

She wished she was able to see his face but her head was too busy burying itself into a pillow, her face burning with each unholy and more obscene call of Freddy’s name, knowing that even with her thighs planted firmly against his ears, hearing her pulse and each shudder through her leg, she knew that he was still paying attention to the rest of her, to her entire being. Listening to her pulse as it raced with each lick, kiss, suck that he gave, listened to her whine the best he could as he did the exact things that made her head spin, felt the way his hands felt up her legs to rest on her hips the moment she was about to thrust them up.

He knew her like clockwork, he knew what she was like and the man never was one to back down from a promise. The first and second orgasm was good, the third was beginning to get a little painful, by the time that she had gotten to her fifth she failed to hold back the tears, heels digging into Freddy’s back as he kept working his tongue. He had discarded his shirt between each orgasm, able to see the way her own juices glistened against his chin each time he pulled back for a breath, pulled back to see the mess he was creating — a mess of his design.

About to dive in for another round of making her sob, making her cry, making her break under his will for being the brat he adored, three loud knocks at the front door were enough to completely shatter the scene in Chica’s mind — and even despite the tears that stained her face and pillow, she couldn’t help but let out a small whimper as Freddy pulled away, wanting to keep him there, keep him dominating her, keeping her submitted and it seemed he felt the same way as he got off his knees, using the back of his hand to wipe away her cum from his mouth.

The fact that he was so willing to be away from her at the height of it, the fact that he was so willing to have one single thing ripping him away from her sobered up her mind quicker than anything else could, even with her arms shaking as she forced herself up into a sitting position to yell at the man to return to her side as he threw on a shirt, those blue eyes staring at her in the darkening lights of their living room as she drew in a breath to talk only to be interrupted by the man himself as he raised a finger, all the air in her lungs blowing out into her cheeks.

“I’ll be back.” He better bloody should be, watching with narrowed eyes as he began to walk to the door, though as he turned his head to look over his shoulder, all the air escaped from her lungs at three words that left his mouth, “Keep yourself wet.”

It wasn’t a hard thing to do, nor was it something that she wouldn’t even plan on doing in the first place, letting herself sit up on the bed as she watched the man enter the hallway, wetting her lips with her tongue as she listened to the front door open, the sounds of voices being so muffled that she wasn’t able to hear them, even as she focused her ears onto the noises as her fingers ghosted her thighs. She could hear Freddy a bit more clearly, his voice — even if muffled — being distinct and clear in her mind, one that she could not imagine to be anyone else’s. Did the person on the other side of the door know that he had a piece of ass on the other side of the wall, one of which was keeping herself oh so tempting and wet for him.

Maybe the person already knew from the way Freddy was so deliciously disheveled, maybe they could see glistening wetness around his mouth from where he had forgotten to wipe away her essence, maybe they had heard her sobbing, crying with the pleasure that had fogged her mind so good, so well, that she hadn’t even noticed that the hour had ticked by as her fingers found her clit. She was over stimulated, overwhelmed, but yet she didn’t want to let Freddy down — if she let Freddy down, then he probably wouldn’t give her what she wanted, if she let Freddy down, he probably would leave her alone for the rest of the night.

She didn’t want to be let down after working so hard to even make him notice her, want to hold her, want to touch her. To imagine him leaving her high and dry sent unpleasant shudders down her spine in each and every way. No, she wanted to make sure she was happy, for once she might as well be a good girl.

It really did hurt with how much she had already been stimulated, the jolts of lightning that shot up and down her back making her shudder with each painful shot — and yet she loved it so much, she loved knowing that she was over stimulated because of Freddy’s mouth and hands, that she was over stimulated because of her love for him. It wrapped her in an emotional bliss, one that enveloped her mind until the outside world seemed to fade away, hiding from her sight, keeping away from her senses as she focused on Freddy’s command.

Keep herself wet, she was going to be a good girl, she was going to make sure she followed Freddy’s command.

It was Freddy’s hands on her knees that woke her from her trance, her mind hazy and blurry as she felt a hand envelop her wrist, pulling her fingers away from her needy hole with a whine that she sure the neighbors probably heard. She wasn’t ashamed of how loud she had whined, nor was she ashamed of the way her mouth had drooled with the way she watched Freddy as he unzipped his fly. Oh, her poor honey bear, it must’ve been painful for him to keep his dick in his pants while she kept herself wet and waiting for him, it must’ve made conversing with the person at the door difficult when he had tasted her sweet cunt.

Her leg still hurt somewhat, but fuck it, she wanted to show him how much she wanted him.

“Can I please…?” She muttered, not even noting how hoarse her throat was from screaming his name, her lavender eyes pulling themselves away from her most desired prize as she stared Freddy in the eyes, knowing that her big doe eyes were a weakness to the man, one in which she could see his face struggle to decide — she always did love that, keeping the man around her finger knowing how pussy drunk he was with each time he would dance the sinner’s tango, and yet she couldn’t even contain her own excitement as he nodded his head.

Swapping positions, she at least had the right of mind to grab a pillow as they did so, watching the man spread himself on her bedsheets, his legs long and thick — as was his cock that bobbed with each movement once freed from his confines— as she nestled herself between them, the pillow providing soft cushioning against the floor as she settled herself in. She would’ve loved to have had one of the other boys to take photos or tell her how naughty she was being so submissive, but yet her eyes glossed over, helping Freddy shuffle his pants down his legs and bunch up at his ankles, not wasting any time beyond that as she did everything she knew Freddy liked.

Lick here, suck a hickey there, she knew the routine by now as she focused on pleasing Freddy, keeping an eye on how that one muscle in his jaw tensed, how his hand came to rest upon her golden curls as she kissed the tip of his dick, watching the way the little bead of precum that gathered at the tip broke, trailing a line down his skin.

He was like a god in her hands, so large, so thick, she was surprised she was even able to fit him into her mouth at all every time she let him enter her mouth. She had learned by now not to get too greedy, least she worry about coughing up a mess all over herself, instead, she allowed herself to take in slow, deep breaths as she braced a hand on his inner thigh, using the other to guide him into her mouth, feeling the way he pulsated against her tongue as she bobbed her head, letting her tongue glide over the skin and teeth scratch at him ever so slightly. Each bob allowed her to take more, the only thing that gave away that Freddy was enjoying this being the way his breath would hitch each time she took him in, deeper and deeper until she knew she could take no more.

She wanted to take all of him but she knew herself too well, he might as well enter her lungs from how long and thick he was. “Aw, sweet princess already giving up already?” She knew it was a joke, especially with how his eyes glistened in the dark, but yet it stabbed at her ego, furrowing her brows as she looked up at him, not once stopping her movements, “or are you just not wanting to please me?”

There was that burning rage again, burning hot like a fire inside of her gut as she stared up at her boy toy, listening to the way he laughed as if he had told the funniest joke in the world — she was no joke, she knew her limits and he dared laugh at her despite her being on her knees to show how much she loved him? Widening her mouth for a moment, she made sure her lips nor tongue would get caught in the way before she bit down, not hard enough that it would cut through skin but hard enough that it would hurt enough, her furrowed brow of anger turning into one of sweet satisfaction as she listened to the low hiss that echoed from above.

He shouldn’t taunt the one with the dick in her mouth.

And she shouldn’t taunt the one with the hand in her hair. She remembered far too late how much control he actually held over her, letting out a muffled yell against his skin as he gripped her hair, lavender eyes locking onto blue as she allowed the gears in her head turn — but turn far too slow they did, only able to take one deep breath through her nose before she was forced to the base, choking slightly as she felt as his tip kissed the back of her throat. She was glad her gag reflex wasn’t as sensitive as it could be and that she had at least had some time to prepare herself, but the shock of it left air in her lungs that was quickly depleting, lungs screaming for air as she heard the man above her talk but yet she couldn’t hear the words he was saying.

How cruel was he to push her down like this, deplete her of the very air she needed to breathe. A tiny part of her took pride in knowing that she had provoked this sort of reaction, that she had provoked him to put her in her place, one that had her vision blurring, doubling as her lungs screamed for breath.

Keep her here, keep her here until she passed out, she couldn’t help but think of those sinful thoughts that swam in her mind, even as she was finally pulled off with a loud, wet, pop. Her lungs screamed with each breath in she took as she allowed herself to breath in deeply, feeling the way Freddy brushed her hair from her sweat coated forehead; even when punishing her, he always was so gentle, so loving, especially as his fingers tilted her head up to look at him.

“You ok?”

Chica wanted to say words, to let him know that she was still there, that she was ok, but all that came out was a croak each time she tried to talk, each time she tried to speak so all she could do was nod, letting her fingers drum along Freddy’s thigh as her lungs finally stopped hurting. She knew that her throat was going to be sore by the time the morning came but she didn’t mind, letting a breath out of her nose as she was helped to her feet, replacing Freddy on the bed as he stood over her now, trapping her against the mattress and his large body.

“Hm, a bit too soft?” Chica was able to croak from the back of her throat, listening to the way Freddy’s chest rumbled with laughter, his hands coming under her exposed ass, kneading each cheek as she eased herself onto her back, her rear hanging over the edge as Freddy held her gently, softly, lovingly as he removed one hand to grasp his aching member, the woman shuddering as she felt the head brush against her puffy slit.

“You really want me to put you in your place?”

A single nod was all that was needed before she felt the breath once more being taken from her lungs as he pushed into her with one thrust, legs straightening from where they hung around his sides before placing her heels against his lower back. It always was a shock to the system whenever he entered her like this, whenever he wanted to take her breath away, but with each short thrust to test the waters, each thrust to make sure she was adjusting well, she couldn’t help each shuddering moan that escaped from her mouth. As much as she would never get used to it, she would never grow tired of the feeling of being stretched, of being surrounded by his heat, his scent, to be stretched around him so tightly that she couldn’t help but feel the blood pulsing through his veins.

Hands balled into the sheets, feeling as each thrust began to grow stronger but not faster, each thrust being calculated not only for his pleasure, but her pleasure too — the slapping of skin, the moans of each other’s name, she felt his stubble kiss at her neck as he nestled his face into it, littering the skin with kisses and mutters of love in rushed sentences that she couldn’t even decipher. As much as he wanted to punish her, as much as he wanted to break and bend her, she knew deep down that he was still so madly in love with her that it hurt him every time to be away.

“Freddy,” she gasped out, a hand coming from the duvet to curl in his brown locks, “please, kiss me.” And that he did, how was he to reject his pretty little slut’s request? A mixture of lip and teeth, of passion and lust, he was everything she wanted in that moment, especially as his hips thrusted against hers a little bit faster as she raked nails down his back, most defiantly a bit too hard but yet his reaction was simply divine.

Limbs, sweat and passion, a cocktail of emotions that exploded in ecstasy as she came around him, only focused on holding him close as she came to her completion, Freddy not falling too far behind as she felt herself being filled so much she overflowed, knowing that tears streamed down her face as she felt those final few thrusts before Freddy too was spent, feeling his weight on top of her as he rested against her body. It certainly wasn’t unpleasant to have him be so close but it certainly was when you became conscious of the fact you were sweaty, sticky and smelt somewhat terrible.

“You smell like ass…” Were Chica’s first words once she had caught her breath, her nails scratching soothing circles into Freddy’s back, “I told you that cologne was shit, you need a shower.” And so did she, cringing internally as Freddy slowly pulled himself off of her body, the feeling of sticky skin as sweat cooled coming away being enough to make her skin crawl with disgust.

“The others seemed to disagree.” But he complied nonetheless, helping Chica up and off the bed as he carried her gently.

Thankfully the first thing he decided to do was help her shower and change into something soft, his hands always feather light against her already tender and sensitive skin as he ran everything over her. They hadn’t even noticed at the time but her leg had bled a bit, Freddy taking his tender time to make sure the wound was clean and wrapped before he spoiled her rotten with kisses galore. After a week of not being touched, of not being held dearly and treated like the princess she was, Chica let herself indulge in these kisses and cuddles, of the fingers in her hair and over her body, ones riddled with callouses from hard and dirty work.

This was the Freddy she knew, and she was glad to have him back.

Bathed and in clothes that snuggled her in warmth, she followed Freddy down the stairs as he braced her so gently, guiding her each step of the way as her legs wobbled and jiggled, not used to so much use after a week of television surfing and magazine reading. This was what she had expected to happen when she had gotten out of the hospital, this is what she expected to happen when she had been put on bed rest — it had taken a week for her to be able to get the treatment that she rightfully deserved but her chest only seemed to swell further with joy.

“I’m expecting you to feed me grapes and keep an umbrella over me now,” she joked, feeling the way his fingers ghosted over her side through the tank top she now wore, tickling at her skin in a way that made her move closer to Freddy himself, “you did leave me alone for basically a week.”

“You came and found me; you could’ve done it at any time.”

“Maybe I just wanted you to cuddle me.” As her feet met the final step, a familiar scent brushed against her nose and made her stop all thoughts behind what to say next, blinking once, twice, before sticking her nose in the air like a dog, her steps quickened as she made her way to the source of the smell, the kitchen lights already illuminating the tile and the bag of items that sat on the kitchen island, not even stopping to let Freddy catch up as she pulled him along. The logo, the smells, she already knew what it was, not even wasting a second as she opened the bag and stared down at the food before her.

“I didn’t order this…”

“I did.” Freddy’s arms looped around her waist as she stared at the food, her blond hair draping around her face as she allowed herself to register those words, to register the love and kindness behind them with each and every syllable, with each thumb stroke against her exposed hip.

“You even remembered the sauce...”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Taking his hands from her waist and into the bag, Freddy pulled out the tubs of beef and rice from the bag, ones that seemed unreal given the time of night that it was as she allowed her mouth to splutter half completed sentences out of her mouth. How, why, how? “You didn’t eat anything at the party.”

So, he had been paying attention.

He had seen her.

Feeling her eyes water up, she couldn’t help the tears overflowing as she rushed to try and brush them away, glad that her back was to Freddy as she let out a soft hiccup. Maybe it was still the adrenaline that rushed through her system, maybe it was the dopamine too, but it suddenly became all too much in that moment as she turned to the man that had done all of this for her and held him tightly, burying her face in the purple shirt that he had gotten from Bonnie as a gag gift two years ago, staining the fabric with tears.

“God, I love you so much.”

His warmth was no longer overwhelming nor did it seem large, instead, he was a regular man in that moment without his suits and dark looks, his arms once more looping around her figure as he sat at the island, dragging his beloved girl onto his lap, letting her settle before he cracked open the top of the container, Chica not even wasting a moment to eat the food that was fed to her from Freddy’s folk.

She enjoyed being a mafia man’s girl, enjoyed having the attention, but in these quiet moments like this she couldn’t help but enjoy them more, enjoy how his face was relaxed enough that she could see the wrinkles that had developed on his smile line as they ate, how his shoulders were slumped and pointed towards her, cocooning her in a pleasant warmth that smelt of mulberry and pine. She wanted to have these moments more often, to be able to go out without the idea of danger looming on their mind. As his thumb wiped away a stray grain of rice from her mouth, those thoughts were dashed; no, she couldn’t imagine her life without the chaos, she couldn’t imagine the life style they had if they were good and honest men.

It would be frankly like falling for other men.

Letting her brows furrow, she let those thoughts rest — for now, she was right where she belonged. That was until Freddy gently cleared his throat, Chica looking up at him from where she sat on his lap to note the way his eyes darted all around.

“I do have something to ask you.” Reaching into the bag, he pulled out something else.

The city was quiet when Bonnie and Foxy finally turned into their street, their bodies aching and tired from the past week they had experienced. Gun fights to arguments that had caused Bonnie to lose a tooth, the men were about ready to just flop into their own beds by the time they got to the drive way.

Foxy was able to read that it was well past midnight on his shitty digital wrist watch, grunting as he swung the door open with more force than needed as he clambered out, the cool air kissing at his bruised skin as he looked towards the house. There was a soft blue glow that emanated from inside, forgoing his items in the car as he headed for the front door.

“Foxy, I am not carrying your shit inside.” Bonnie’s words were slightly slurred from the swelling in his cheek, but as Foxy waved him off, muttering about how he would get his stuff when the sun had come over the horizon, he slowly opened the front door as to not startle those that were inside, his false leg softly thudding against the wooden floor as he went in, surveying the surroundings with his own good eye.

He could see that there were dishes piled on the sink and empty plastic bags on the island, the air smelling thick of sweat and sex that made his nose hurt as he sighed, running a hand down his face as he stared at the mess. He knew that Bonnie was going to have a flip out when he saw it, knowing the man would be heading straight to bed after the long week, but as he turned his head to check the lounge room, he couldn’t help but pause.

The soft snoring of his two lovers on the bed that sat in the middle of the room drowned out the drone of the television, watching for a moment the way their limbs wrapped around each other as they embraced under the duvets, blond girls glistening in the light against Freddy’s skin. It was a sight that you would expect to find in a romance movie, one where the domestic life was peaceful and quaint, one where they didn’t carry guns with them at all times.

As the front door opened and closed once more, the sound of bags and other items unceremoniously falling to the floor with clatters and thumps that shook the house with how loud they were, Foxy gestured for the equally weary man to follow him further into the lounge and if that man were to have ears, he was sure they would be straight in the air on high alert. Walking into the room, each man taking a side of the bed, they allowed themselves to stare down at their partners that slept without a care. They most certainly were able to see the clothes that were strewn around the place, especially with shirts and pants of Freddy’s that most certainly would usually be hanging over the back of the couch, but instead they just focused on Chica’s hands, the one that was thrown over Freddy’s shoulder as she snored away.

She looked like an angel, one that could melt any guy’s heart as Foxy gently took her hand, brushing his fingers over her knuckles as he studied the ring that sat dainty upon her finger.

“It seems he asked her without us.” Foxy muttered under his breath, eye flicking up to look at the man who went through so many emotions that he swore he was going to pass out where he stood, “something must’ve happened.”

“I thought he— ugh!” Bonnie struggled to keep himself from waking the two on the bed, his hands flying to his face as he pulled on the skin, the bags under his eyes only seeming to become more prominent with the stretch as he too stared at the ring. “I thought it was going to be a group thing.”

Letting Chica’s hand flop back onto Freddy’s shoulder, the man in question shuffling slightly in his sleep, Foxy undressed himself from his stain covered clothes, throwing them to the floor with the rest of them before unhooking his prosthetics, Bonnie spluttering slightly as he watched Foxy crawl into bed with the others before sighing and loosening his own tie.

“This is why I don’t like to leave them alone…”

“Freddy don’t like leaving you alone wit’ her either.” Foxy frankly couldn’t be bothered by it at all as knowing by the end of the day he usually got some himself, but yet as he pulled the covers up and over himself, he could hear Bonnie shuffling around, most likely tidying up the space slightly despite being as tired as Foxy was before he settled into the bed himself.

A click and the television was off, leaving them all in darkness, the only sound that filled the air being the buzzing of the remaining television energy and the cars that buzzed about outside at these wee hours. About to shut his eyes, Foxy let out a grunt as an arm was suddenly tucked under him, able to hear the soft and tired giggles of Chica as he was suddenly thrust between them, barely able to see their figures in the darkness as Bonnie grunted as Chica shuffled about.

“Were you waiting for us?” Bonnie cut through the silence, soft snickering becoming laughter as Chica couldn’t contain herself, Foxy able to feel the rumbles of Freddy against his own back as Bonnie groaned, “were you asleep or not?”

“We were, until you yelled at Foxy.”

“Hey, I wasn’t that loud—!”

“Save it, you could call the cows home.” And Chica wasn’t exactly wrong, Foxy letting out a few chuckles of his own as he fumbled around in the dark, feeling the small of Chica’s back before laying a flat palm against it, feeling that she was laying down on what he assumed to be Bonnie.

The quiet serenity was broken as it was filled with laughter and happiness; damn be it that it was around one in the morning, especially as one of the lamps came on beside the bed and revealed Bonnie and Foxy in their glory to the two that had caught them in their embraces.

“Oh god, are you missing a tooth?”

Squinting against the light, Foxy was able to watch as Chica looked into Bonnie’s mouth, using her fingers to feel at the now empty space beside his buck teeth, watching the way she fussed about the man. Though it wasn’t what caught his attention, it was the bruises that had begun to form around her waist, darkening against her skin and continue underneath her pants, Foxy raising his own brow at the sight before he reached out, gently poking at the bruises, earning a yelp in return.

“You two rocked the boat?”

And that caught Bonnie’s attention, the man craning his spine enough to be able to see the already bright purple bruises on her hips, as bright and colorful as his hair before sitting up, turning to look at Freddy behind the red-haired male.

“What happened to not fucking her until she was given the all clear, Fred?”

Another chuckle, one that followed with nothing and as Bonnie started to yell at Freddy for daring to try and pretend to sleep now, Foxy closed his own eyes.

This could be left until morning. He was glad to be home.