lethal | hs

/27/

disclaimer!! the smut in this chapter does start to pick up in comparison to other ones. the chapter isn't all smut, though, so i still recommend reading it all the way through.

it's a little bit of a long one!

~~*~~
Molly Pierce

The second we step into Hot Shot's room, his attention turns down to the base of the door. Taz is trying to follow us inside of the room, but quickly he uses his foot as a blockade to keep the cat out.

"I feel bad," he murmurs with his head turned, still staring at the door, "Should've left the movie on for him at least."

I tug his shirt closer before softly rotating his jaw to face me. He follows the rotation, up until we're fully facing each other. I stare into his eyes for a moment, gathering all of his attention before I soothe my palm down his neck. I watch as he relaxes with my touch, but the more I move, the more he understands what I'm actually doing.

His room is absolutely nothing like I pictured. A nice king sized bed, a singular, large window, and plenty more characteristics lining his walls. What draws my attention the most is the desk shoved off in the corner. A stack of books lines the side of it, leaning into the wood for support. His nightstand also has a book on it. The cover is flipped over and a bookmark hangs halfway through the pages, marking his spot.

The only thing lighting his room is a small, vanilla scented candle, but even under its dimness, he can tell that I'm eyeing the spot on his neck. The same spot where lipstick marks had been smeared over earlier. He must have taken a shower right when he got home, so the stains are gone now, but clearly I haven't forgotten them.

He sighs, feeling as I run my fingers along where the kiss marks once were. In a light tone, he says, "I shouldn't have been late earlier. You were nervous about stealin' that car, so I should've been there to give you a rundown, not hooking up with-"

"It's fine," I purse my lips, flicking my eyes back and forth from his neck to his guilty glare, giving him as much reassurance as I can. "You're allowed to do what you want."

But sometimes, when I get too over my head and too caught up in my thoughts, I find myself wishing it was only with me.

Only sometimes.

"Yeah, but Sakura was right, I'm immature. So if you're mad, I get it," He admits sourly. I think he just gets anxious before doing anything as risky as stealing a car, and for years the way he's coped with that stress is by having sex. He probably didn't know what else to do.

"Sometimes you're immature, but I'm not mad," I assure him, adding in a subtle diss. I don't really even know whether it's logical for me to be mad at him or not. I'm just confused about the entire situation, especially why he's even concerned that I'd be upset with him for doing something like that.

"You really aren't?" His tone almost seems skeptical.

I know I'm not mad, but the truth is, I don't know if I'm hurt or not.

"No, and besides..." I assure him instead, wrapping my arms over his shoulders, "...whoever she is, she clearly knows nothing about you."

I curve my head to the side, kissing gently on the part of his neck just below his ear. The action causes him to groan with satisfaction, and the more I tease it, the more his knees start to falter.

"See," I taunt, kissing the area a few more times, "every time I kiss you here, it drives you crazy. And judging from the lipstick stains, she didn't kiss you here once."