Song: Kid Cudi - Tequila Shots (slowed + reverb)
𝔚𝔚𝔚
Josie
Being drunk wasn't nearly as fun as the movies made it out to be.
Not when mundane tasks like showering, changing and getting ready for bed took twice as long.
And no one talked about the clumsy mishaps and how they weren't so harmless. Not when I was currently standing in the kitchen with blood dripping down my arm because I'd somehow tripped and managed to rip open the cut on my palm.
And the cherry on top? I couldn't even tell you how it happened. It was all a blur. From the second I'd stumbled into my room to shower until now.
My bare feet slap against the wooden floors as I stumble towards the cabinet near the sink in search for my medical kit.
The faster I cleaned this up, the faster I got to bed.
"Come on." I huff under my breath, yanking and fumbling the zipper with my unwounded hand. Yet the stubborn thing still doesn't budge.
Far too caught up in my own fit of aggravation, I don't register the sound of footsteps until the medical kit is swiped from my hand from behind.
Although my reaction is delayed and I don't smell the clean scent of body wash and aftershave until it's gone, my body bristles.
As if this night couldn't get any worse.
I was drained, angry and in pain. The last thing I wanted was to be dealing with the man who I'd gotten into a verbal altercation with less a few hours ago.
I withhold the urge to sigh and square my shoulders before turning around, pinning the large man across the room with a hard glare.
"Go away." I spit, only to stop and realize that I'm the one in his kitchen.
You see, this is why I couldn't be mean. Not only did it hurt to be mean to others, but I was terrible at it. Especially when I was up against the meanest of them all.
Clad in a pair of black sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a tight black T-shirt. The dim glow of the light above me casts a shadow along half of Nico's form, making him look all the more dangerous and terrifying.
While I stood beneath the light, clad in nothing but a silk white tank top and matching sleep shorts that'd once fit me modestly before I'd hit my growth spurt.
I stare at Nico's dark intimating form trying to come to terms with the fact that his mere presence seemed to naturally put me into a place I hated.
A place where I was submissive, docile and weak.
I hated it just like I hated him.
My eyes refocus on his form as he turns his back to me and nods to the stool on kitchen island. "Sit down."
Curt, nonchalant and straight to the point.
Ugh.
He didn't even need to try to be domineering. It was in his nature to demand and when he was around me, it was in mine to submit.
No. I wanted to say, but what comes out of my mouth is far worse.
Two simple words.
"Fuck you."
Two simple words that are spat with such venom, it takes me by surprise. Two simple words that he'd said to me countless times. Yet it's those two simple words that earn me an ounce of what I'm looking for from him.
A reaction.
He stiffens and I watch the way the muscles in his broad sounders strain beneath the material of his T-shirt. Until slowly, he turns around to face me where I have to try twice as hard to stand by my words.
Perhaps the confidence had come from the fact that his back was turned to me, because right now, as his stormy eyes stare down at me with a hint of disbelief, I want to cower away.
I hadn't meant it nor did I know where it came from, but I couldn't take it back.
I didn't want to take it back.
"Say it again." He challenges, his tone light, amused even. But I know better.
There was a very thin line between amused Nico and hostile Nico. And as much as I'd like to say that I could handle his dark hostile side, I couldn't.
He was too unpredictable when he fed off of my fear and hesitation.
"And this time," He continues, his voice light, harmless even, but that changes the moment he takes a step closer to me. "Look me in the fucking eye."
I stare up at him, my jaw tight and eyes narrowed in disdain. I hated how easy it was for him establish his power over me.
"Go on." He taunts. Another step closer. "I dare you." He spits, his voice hardening and his eyes sparkling with provocation.
He loved these twisted little games he played with me. He'd taunt, corner and then strike. It made me feel like prey, like I was nothing but a pathetic little deer.
I do the opposite of what I'd normally do, though. I don't cower away, I don't let him see the fear and hesitation on my face and I certainly don't speak.
We stay like that, locked in an intense stand off. Waiting for the other to back down or give in, but I wouldn't fold, not when I was so angry at him.
His eyes narrow an inch and I cross my arms before realizing I can't with my bloody palm, so instead, I straighten out while his eyes flicker to my hand in contemplation. Until he finally shakes his head seeming to dismiss whatever he was going to do next.
"Sit the fuck down." He commands firmly, repeating his original statement while sending me a withering look.
Ignoring him, I focus on fighting back a smile as my chest swells with pride.
I won.
I held my ground with a powerful man and succeeded. It was something unheard of, especially in my lifetime. You didn't stand up to respectable men like Father Kade or even Michael and walk away unscathed.
Instead of submitting to his demand, I decide to ride out this new wave of confidence by staring into his eyes and raising a brow. "Make me."
The room erupts in silence. The sounds of our breathing the only thing filling the rather large kitchen, until he narrows his eyes and runs a hand over his jaw. "You really gonna fight me on this?" He muses, raising a brow.
Whatever retort I'm about to give dies in my throat the second I watch him stride towards me, tossing the medical kit on the counter and rolling his shoulders back.
I take a caution step back. "Well... Not... literally." I add nervously. Maybe I'd misjudged and spoke too soon. Maybe he was like Michael or Father Kade who didn't appreciate being disrespected.
My free hand reaches back behind me towards the drawers. Patting around for the one we kept the knives in.
But he's in front of me in the blink of an eye, his hands darting out towards me and making me flinch. And by the time I process that his hands had gone for my hips, the cool marble of the counter is already hitting the bare skin on the back of my thigh.
I shriek, my unwounded hand instinctively moving up to grip onto his shoulder for support and I exhale in relief when I realize he's just planted me down on the counter.
"You thought I was gonna take a swing at you?" He drawls curiously, tilting his head to the side while his tongue pokes his cheek.
I shift uncomfortably unable to respond. The answer was yes and no, but I wasn't going to delve into why. I wasn't necessarily abused growing up, but I was disciplined.
But it seems like Nico's already taken my silence for answer when face relaxes and a he steps closer. His lower stomach brushes the skin on my knees, but it's the indecipherable look in his eyes that worries me.
Like I said, he was unpredictable.
His hand moves up to brush the hair at my temple. His touch as light as a feather and his voice nothing but a low hum. "I'd never hit you." He whispers thoughtfully, his eyes glued to the strand of brown hair between his fingers, twirling and playing with it.
He stares at it, his mind clearly somewhere else and I find myself dropping a bit of my guard, but he's not done. "You're far too weak for me to even consider laying a hand on." His eyes shift to meet mine in sincerity, though his lips curl into a smirk. "Besides, there's no need for physical violence. Not when there's so many other fun ways to fuck with you."
I can do nothing but blink at him, completely taken back and terrified. His eyes dart around my face and when he breaks out into a low chuckle, I realize he's joking.
I slap his wrist away and he turns around to grab the medical kit, his shoulders shaking with laughter. He enjoyed that. "How screwed up do you have to be to joke about something like that?" I spit.
He turns back around and sets the med kit near my hip. "Very." He murmurs softly, his fingers moving to rest on my bare knees. "Very screwed up." He finishes before slowly prying my legs apart and stepping between them.
The position gives him more access to tower over me and his fingers absentmindedly move to dance across the bare skin on the outside of my thighs.
I grip onto his wrists and push them off of my thighs. "It's not funny." I snap.
Ignoring me, he grips my wrist, holding it up between us and examining my palm. His brows draw together. "What happened?"
Was he being serious?
I take a moment to simply stare at the man who'd gone from making a cruel joke and enjoying my fear to now inspecting my hand like he actually cared about my well being.
With an exasperated sigh, I don't stop him and instead focus on his head of black damp hair, mumbling out my response. "You're girlfriend."
I wait for him to correct me, laugh, or react in any way that'd ease my overthinking mind, but he does no such thing. He simply pauses, narrows his eyes in thought before raising a brow. "Zoe?"
Disappointment wraps around my chest and squeezes so hard I swear I hear a crack.
"Yeah, Zoe." I grit out, pursing my lips.
He doesn't say anything else. Doesn't confirm nor deny and I have to bite down on my lower lip to stop myself from asking questions that'd make it seem like I cared.
Silence hangs in the air and he grows quiet, his attention now focused between digging through the medical kit on the counter and wiping up the blood around the gash on my palm.
She couldn't be his girlfriend, could she?
I'd heard her crying shortly after she went into his study this morning and before I could offer to open the elevator for her, she'd pushed past me and taken the stairs down.
Whatever. I didn't care.
In fact, it's yet another reason why I shouldn't be falling into his trap.
This was what he did, he strung girls along and broke their hearts. And I was no different, except for the fact that he wasn't just going to break my heart, he was going to break me.
The stinging of my palm brings me back and I snap my eyes to Nico who's applying the antiseptic onto my palm with a cloth, his movements far too harsh and intrusive.
He drags the cloth right through the middle of the cut and I cry out. "Ouch!" I hiss in pain, retracting my hand instantly. "What's wrong with you?!"
His head tilts up, brows drawn together in confusion and his bottom lip swollen from where he'd been biting it in concentration. Under different circumstances I'd think he looked almost... adorable.
I cradle my hand to my chest and glare at him, "Are you trying to purposefully hurt me?"
"No." He sounds genuinely dumbfounded as he straightens out, growing somewhat defensive.
"Well you're being too rough." I snap. "That's not how you handle someone who's hurt."
For someone who's constantly injured, he knew nothing about first aid. And being gentle was common sense.
His jaw flexes and his eyes shift to the cabinet behind me, seeming to avoid my eye. "Well, I wouldn't fucking know." He spits, suddenly growing angry and defensive.
I open my mouth to respond, to make another snide remark but pause when I understand why he's grown so upset all the sudden.
"You're telling me you've never done this before?" I question. The condescending tone of my voice foreign to my own ears, but I push past the lump of guilt in my throat.
For some reason the man before me was letting his guard down enough for me to detect a hint of vulnerability. It was subtle, but I'd figured that it was more than anyone else got.
I wasn't going to be nice.
I couldn't get anywhere with being nice.
He didn't deserve nice.
"No." Nico responds, staring down at my hand as I hold it away from him. "I'm saying." He pauses and blows out a frustrated breath. "That I've only ever had to do this to myself." He whispers, his words tense and forced.
You see, vulnerability was a tricky thing. The ones you let in were the ones that could hurt you the most. And while anyone else would say Nico's behaviour was far from vulnerable, I knew better.
I didn't know why, but he was letting his guard down and it made me hesitate.
Why was it so hard to be mean?
Because two wrongs never made a right. Fighting fire with fire only made the explosion burn brighter.
This man had hurt me and I'd just been handed the opportunity to strike back and hit something inside him.
And maybe it made me weak, a pushover, a doormat. But I didn't want to make him feel as bad as I'd once felt.
With a small sigh, I turn my hand and open my palm back up to him. "Just... be gentle, please." I murmur, watching his rough fingers take hold of my wrist."It still hurts." I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.
He doesn't offer a response, but rather continues to disinfect the cut before wrapping it up with a gentleness I didn't know he was capable of.
A gentleness that made me feel delicate, special, important.
I'd never been taken care of like this. All my life the closest I'd ever gotten was Daniel, who'd looked out for me from afar. But it was never like this.
And it felt like a slap to the face because Nico was making it really hard to loath him. How could I hate him when he was doing things like standing in a room and taking care of my wounds. Or making me realize just how touch deprived I'd been until meeting him.
I don't notice that he's finished with my hand until I feel the rough pad of his thumb swipe the damp skin of my under eyes. "I really fucking hate you drunk." He murmurs, his broad chest declaring as he sighs.
I blink away the stray tears that'd escaped. I wasn't drunk anymore and the pressure building behind my temples was proof of that. "Why?"
He swipes another tear, the action so sweet and gentle, yet his face remains stoic as a frown mars his features. "Because it makes you cry."
You make me cry.
But I don't say it aloud, not when he could very well use the information to his advantage and abuse it. "Why do you care?" I say instead.
He's silent, seeming to be thinking over his next words while his body naturally draws closer to mine.
He's standing between my legs, but he leans further into me until his forehead brushes mine and his body heat warms up the bare skin of my arms and legs. "Because it makes me feel like an asshole." He rasps, his voice barely above a whisper.
Though exhausted, drained and half dazed, I still manage a scoff as I move my head away from his and place my hands on his chest. "That's because you are an asshole."
Just because I wasn't willing to stoop down to his level, didn't mean I was going to excuse his actions and forgive him so easily.
In fact, the mere thought of the awful things he'd said and done make my hands ball into fists.
I push on his chest with every intention to get some space so I can jump down, but he doesn't budge. In fact, he moves closer and grips my chin firmly, forcing my face up to his. "I don't always mean to be." He murmurs seriously, like that's supposed to fix everything.
I stare between his grey irises and gather that's all I'm going to get out of him. That's the closest I'll get to an apology.
"Wow, I'm truly touched." I breathe, mustering up all my strength to push on his chest. He steps back, it's not far but it's enough space for me to squeeze through to stand. "Thanks for giving me absolutely nothing."
I jump down, my front brushing against his but I don't dwell on the proximity for long because I'm too busy trying to side step him. Only before I can do so his hands dart out and rest on the counter on either side of me, blocking me in.
I push against his arms, urging him to move but it's like the more I fight, the harder he stands his ground.
Until finally his eerily calm voice breaks me out of my struggling.
"I've never had to repeat myself." The firm tone of his voice makes my shoulders tense and I realize that all traces of vulnerability are now gone.
"I don't care." I grit, glaring at his chest. I didn't care what he had to say. I wasn't going to listen. "Let me go."
As expected he doesn't listen and I'm lifted into mid air before my rear is slammed down onto the counter behind me once again. I immediately begin to protest but stop when Nico's hands on my hips squeeze hard in warning."I only ever sleep in the dark, alone."
I can't help but mouth off, "Good for you-" I suck in a breath when he suddenly catches my throat in his hand. His fingers finding their way around my neck and the cool metal of his rings making my breath catch in my throat.
He forces my head back so that I'm looking up at him and he stares into my eyes, squeezing my neck twice. "Don't fucking interrupt me." He seethes, his voice low.
A chill runs down my spine and my blood runs hot as I still. Nico's jaw is set and his chest heaves with harsh, angry breaths that hit the skin of my nose. And when the rough pads of his finger tips continue to tighten around my throat, I know he's fed up.
"I don't lose my temper." He growls, his voice full of hostility. "I don't like people in my space." He's in my face now. His voice reeking with frustration and contempt. "And I certainly don't let people mouth off to me and live to see the next day."
His fiery eyes dart between mine and the tight grip around my neck loosens until he's smoothing his palm down the exposed skin of my throat to my collar bone.
My eyelids flutter shut and my chest heaves as I start to work myself up again but pause when he suddenly moves to grip the side of my jaw, pulling my face impossibly closer to his. I snap my eyes open. "Yet here you are."
My teeth ache from how hard I'm clenching them, but he continues. "Living proof of my own contradictions." He breathes harshly, everything about his demeanour telling me he's once again worked up and agitated.
My hands fist the material of his shirt at his sides and my blunt nails dig into the skin there. He wasn't the only one that was angry. "That's not my fault."
He begins to chuckle, but there's no humor in the way he's gazing at me. "Then explain to me why you're the one getting in my head." He snaps, slipping his hand into my hair and fisting a chunk of it in his hand. "Driving me fucking crazy."
He uses the grip on the back of my head to force my forehead against his, while his harsh breaths mix with mine. "Making me do things I don't do." His words reek with disdain and his hold on my hair tightens until it's almost painful. "Making me say things I don't mean just to keep my sanity in tact." His nose nudges mine and his lips hover over mine, "making me want things I can't have." He breaths against my lips.
"I hate you." I breathe harshly against his lips.
His tongue darts out to wet his lip and his eyes drop to mine. "Oh yeah?" He taunts.
"Yeah." I spit.
His jaw ticks. "Then why the fuck are you still here, huh?"
My hands shake as his grip on my hair tightens painfully. I drag my hands from his sides to between us and slip them underneath his shirt and onto the bare skin of his lower abdomen. "Why the fuck do you let me touch you, huh?" He bites, his lips a hairs width from mine.
I dig my nails in the soft skin and he suck air through his teeth, hissing out in pain yet he pushes his body closer to mine, like he's welcoming the pain. "You want to hate me in the same way that I want to get rid of you." He breathes, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Easier said than done."
I try to think of a rebuke, try to work up the strength to tell him that what he's saying is false, but I can't.
My shoulders slump in defeat and I drop my head, the adrenaline and rage simmering down until I'm nothing but exhausted, confused and feeling pathetic.
I retract my fingernails and begin to absentmindedly run my fingertips over the crescent indents I'd created with my nails.
"You took things to far." I breathe, trying desperately to harden my voice and establish some sort of boundary between us.
But that dissolves the second he dips his head and buries his face into the side of my head, murmuring his response into my hair in a low hum. "I did."
His confirmation only weakens my resolve and my stomach dips when I feel his lips brush the hair on the side of my head.
He's doing the sweetest things but saying the nastiest.
"And you said the meanest things to me." My voice wavers as his lips move to skim over my temple and then down to my cheekbone. He merely skims the skin with his lips softly, placing feather light kisses in his path.
"I didn't mean them." He rasps, his rough calloused hands move back to skim the outside of my thighs and this time, I don't push them away.
"You..." I croak, my chest starting to heave as I remember the fear and panic I felt earlier in the car. "You scared me."
He pauses before dragging his lips across my jaw and down to the junction between my jaw and ear, his voice hoarse and his palms smoothing the skin of my thighs. "I know baby, I know."
I exhale shakily, unaware of just how much I'd moved until I tighten my legs and notice their wrapped around his waist and lock my hands around his neck, clinging onto him in an embrace.
He doesn't pull away despite being someone who hates to be touch, instead, his hand urges my head forward and I bury my head into his neck, inhaling his familiar scent and allowing his warm body to engulf mine.
It'd been so long since I'd been hugged, and as much as I knew I'd hate myself for it, I couldn't find it in me to pull away.
"This doesn't mean I forgive you." I remind him, my voice muffled by the skin of his neck.
He lifts me off the counter with ease, securing an arm around my waist before I feel him turn around and head towards what I presume is the stairs.
Fingers find their way into my scalp and his chest rumbles against mine as he hums out. "As long as you're in my bed at the end of the day, I don't give a shit."
𓆩❤︎𓆪
I kinda really hate this chapter and just pulled it out of my ass a few hours ago.
But that's only bc I changed the last chapter so last minute and needed to compensate but couldn't figure out how to.
So lmk what you guys think. I might end up going back to change it if it really bothers me.
Also I wanted more of a grovel, but that's coming later on and I can't wait :)
ALSO how much y'all wanna bet that if this was Giana she would've folded real quick😭