Marked Me Like a Bloodstain - 18+

Whose eyes am I behind? I don't recognise anything that I see

Days spent coding painstakingly and slowly writing more when it failed to find a vulnerability had forced him to fall back on an old trick he'd been unable to use until now. He couldn't break his way in and compromise the system, but he could compromise a person and have them open the back door for him. Once Alan had used the USB and opened the file containing his malware, it had done most of the work for him. He quickly had remote access to Alan's computer and groaned at the sheer amount of crap he found. It was a graveyard of cases and memos, his daily lunch and coffee orders, appointments he had coming up, and some personal information Jake left alone because he felt a bit guilty looking at that. Alan had carefully compiled notes, recordings, and his thoughts or gut instincts on every case he'd worked on. It was a boon for them, and he could feel that familiar buzz of success filter through his system. It woke him up, and Jake soon found a new admiration for the man he'd deemed useless, but he doubted the man had ever deleted a file.

He'd trawled through everything as quickly as possible, taking anything that might help them and other things he didn't need yet but might come in handy in the future. He felt useful again as he disconnected from Alan's PC and sorted everything into his files. Alan had promised to send them whatever they needed, but he'd been dragging his heels, and Manon wasn't one to wait. Neither was he, and he wanted the challenge to keep him from climbing out of his skin just for something to do. It took hours to organize it all and separate them into the files he'd been faithfully updating whenever something happened, or they found something new to explore. His eyelids felt like sandpaper every time he blinked, tension had built behind them, and he had a slight headache as he turned everything off and let out a weary sigh. He hadn't heard Manon come into the room until her voice cut through the silence of the early afternoon. He jolted, nearly falling out of his chair as she set down a coffee and his glasses on the desk.

"I told you before, glasses if you're staring at that all day." She said and waved a hand at his dark screens.

He gave her a sheepish smile and thanked her before picking up the mug and downing half of it, not caring that it scalded the roof of his mouth. She cringed as he did and shook her head.

"You look as if you didn't sleep, but I know you did." Concern dripped from her tone as she inspected his face, seeing the red eyes and messy hair he'd been pulling when he'd thought Alan's firewall had recognized his bug.

She stood close enough that he could scent her skin's warmth and that perfume she wore that haunted him long after she'd left the room. She was clad in black leggings and an oversized shirt. A possessive part of him preened and purred when he realized the shirt was his. Her hair was still in its braid, but messy tendrils had escaped during the night, and she looked younger. She wore no makeup today, only her smile, and she looked completely at home as she reached out and gripped his chin, tilting his head to the light so she could peer into his eyes. The gentle touch was casual and full of love. No awkwardness between them as he met her gaze and let her see him.

Her eyes practically glowed, sparks of gold scattered amongst the green that turned liquid in the sun. She wore mental armor, so impenetrable everything bounced off it, hiding the vulnerable parts of her most never got to see. But around him, she dropped it and let him in, shielding him too. Her eyes always gave her away, though. They were fierce and wild, showing she burned deeply and irrevocably underneath the facade she wore for the world. Faint red marks on the inside of her wrists caught his eye, and his mind immediately began a never-ending reel of his favorite moments from last night.

As clearly as she was right in front of him, he saw her drop her robe, standing proud and confident as she turned and offered her hands to be bound by him. The sight of her, so strong and capable, handing herself over to him to do as he liked had destroyed and remade him. Something dark and predatory had emerged, and he had lost control. She'd taken everything he'd thrown at her and begged for more. He'd felt like the luckiest bastard alive. He knew it had been a show of trust for her, and he'd tested it as far as he could stand. Leaving her waiting, expecting her to take back control and demand he release her. But she hadn't. She had trembled and writhed, the blindfold like a slash of dark blood across her eyes. He could feel her still, under his hands, around his cock, and under his damn skin. She was everywhere, and he hoped she never left. She was smirking knowingly as she dropped her hand and freed him, the ghost of her touch soon turned cold, and he cleared his throat.