[Simon Riley]
Emilia came out of her bedroom with damped hair and a fresh pair of pyjamas. They're quite loose on her, and I can only think of how she looks without them on. I think I prefer them on the floor.
I threw the cloth I used to clean the table to the sink. I'm quick to clean, but she made quite the mess, so it took me longer than usual.
"You're quiet; I enjoy that."
Emilia smiled softly — she's tired and I can understand that. I pounded her quite vigorously.
"Do you really enjoy it?" She stood in front of me and gripped the waistline of my pants.
I smirked as she pulled me closer "Yes, especially when you have my cock in your mouth."
Her hands moved up to my abdomen, gripping my jumper; she wants me again, so desperately.
I don't blame her, I want her too.
Emilia's eyes were on my lips as hers were slightly parted "You pretend not to want me..." her right hand moved down until she was rubbing me over my pants, making me groan. "When I'm all you want," her eyes flickered up to meet mine "don't you want me, baby?"
"I do," my hand grasped for her wrist to stop her "but it's time to have dinner now, then sleep."
She bit her lip and nodded "Okay."
This is odd, she would normally be snarky but I guess I did fuck some sense into her "Sit down."
Emilia smiled "Yes Lt."
I couldn't help but smirk; I like it when she complies, though I definitely enjoy when she doesn't as well, even if it gives me a raging headache.
We had dinner in utter silence. She thanked me for the meal and gave me a peck on the cheek, then went to her bedroom. After tidying up the kitchen, I went upstairs to my bedroom and took a shower. I sat in bed for a couple of minutes, contemplating if I should sleep here or go downstairs with her.
Maybe it would be a good idea to go downstairs — my job is to take care of her and I'll do better if she's closer. I pulled out my book from under my pillow and got up.
She must be asleep, because it's too quiet and she's quite noisy. I opened the door as stealthy as possible, so she would remain asleep if she's asleep.
Emilia was indeed asleep. She's on one side of the bed, blankets up to her nose. I took a second to contemplate the peacefulness of the moment — she'll never be this quiet, ever again.
I slipped under the covers and looked at the book in my hands. I would normally read until three in the morning, but it doesn't feel necessary today. So, I left it on the nightstand and slipped down, then scooted closer to her.
My hand raised to gently brush her hair with the tips of my fingers "I knew you wanted me again," she whispered in a hoarse voice, making me smile.
"Sh—"
"I know I know: Shut up, Emilia. I like you better when you're quiet," her lips curved into a light smile, with her eyes still closed.
I chuckled "Just go to sleep."
"I was already asleep, then you decided to drop your heavy bum on my bed," she snuggled in my chest. "You can hug me if you want."
My arm hesitated to move, but I still did it, because I really wanted to. It made me nervous to embrace her, because it's not something I want to get used to.
Emilia whimpered as she settled in my arms "Thank you for today, Simon."
"Go to sleep," I told and she hummed.
Once I had closed my eyes, my mind focused on the way my hand felt pressed against her back, keeping her close to me. It took a minute to get used to the proximity, since it's something the lifestyle I lead doesn't really permit. However, my body quickly accepted it and it felt good. It felt so good.
It was disturbingly easy to fall asleep, but pressure always seems to help me sleep soundly.
I woke up to silence; Emilia was still asleep, in the same position she was hours prior, though one of her legs was now gripping my hips. My left hand trailed up her back until it was at the nape of her neck, to gently caress it — I don't wish to alarm her.
"Yes?" She whimpered.
My eyes focused on hers, waiting for them to flutter open "How did you sleep?"
"Soundly," she opened her eyes and her lips curved into a soft smile. "You? Did I move too much?"
"You didn't move," I said, continuing to caress her neck. "Do you usually move a lot?"
Emilia's fingers tickled my side "My mum always complained about how painful it was to share a bed with me."
I chuckled as my fingers now applied pressure on her skin to massage it; her muscles are tense.
"Mhh," she lightly dug her nails into my skin, which I enjoyed "that feels so good. Thank you."
Without giving it a thought, I leaned down to peck her lips and just as I pulled away, she gripped my shirt "What—"
"Keep kissing me," she pulled me back into the kiss. Emilia was quick to find my tongue.
Almost without thinking about it, my hand moved down to her arse to grip it and pull her closer to me.
"Mhh," she lightly moaned.
Quickly, I pulled away "No no." I am mortified by my lack of self restraint.
"It's just a kiss, Simon," she said with a smile that doesn't aim to get 'just a kiss'.
"It's never that simple with you, brat," her buttock in my hand felt quite nice, I must say, so I gave it a tight squeeze. "We've already crossed lines that could get me into serious trouble."
Emilia giggled as she gripped my shirt "I don't fuck and tell."
Her line was sort of clever, so I smiled.
"If you wanted simple you would've slept in your bedroom. Have you ever done simple or is it always complicated with you?"
I hummed, climbing on top of her "It doesn't get more difficult than me, brat." My head dipped into her neck to kiss and nibble her skin.
"Ahh," she moaned and then giggled.
That was more than enough for me; I was satisfied and so I pulled away, and jumped out of bed.
"Where do you think you're going?" She asked in a demanding tone, as if I had no right to leave.
"To make breakfast," I exited the bedroom with a smile on my lips.
"Simon! You can't leave me like this!" She shouted.
I didn't reply and continued with my plans of making breakfast. For today I decided to make oatmeal, an array of fruit slices and poached eggs.
"Here," I set down a bowl of oatmeal with banana in it in front of Emilia. "And your eggs with two prosciutto slices and some ricotta on top."
"Do—"
"Yes, there's lemon zest, olive oil, salt and pepper in the ricotta." I sat down to eat my breakfast; it's the same but bigger portions.
"Thank you," she raised her feet under the table to rest them across my lap, which I minded, so I pushed them away. "Ow! I hit my heel, you twat!"
I shrugged "Why are you resting your feet on me when we're having breakfast?"
Emilia sighed "Can we do something fun today? I want to go see a movie or go ice skating—"
"You've me mistaken for someone else, sweetheart; this isn't a date and I'm not your boyfriend."
Emilia leaned back on her chair and chuckled, it was definitely sarcastic "You people told me I would be moved somewhere else when I first got here," she snapped. "Then you told me I would be able to go home soon, that things were looking up. But now I've been in this place for weeks on end, given more than enough time to think about my mother, to drown in my depression! You—"
"Don't raise your voice at me, Emilia," I firmly said. "I might like fucking you but you're nowhere near having the privilege of speaking to me in—"
"I will speak to you in whichever tone I see fit!" She shouted.
I leaned on the table, keeping my temper in place; I don't want to enter a screaming match "Emilia, your grieve and pain don't give you leeway to speak to me like that. In fact, it doesn't give you leeway to treat anyone like shit. No one owes you pity or sympathy."
The realisation of her behaviour settled in and her expression completely changed.
"Yes, you have the right to be frustrated for being here, for the mess your father got you mixed up in and for having more questions than answers. However, I will not be your punching bag. You can cry as much as you want, throw as many things as you want, talk about it as much as you want. But you cannot pummel me, because I don't deserve to be treated like that," I explained, keeping my composure. "I don't want to have screaming matches, Emilia. It's exhausting, more so because we can clearly communicate. We could definitely improve, but we're not that bad at it."
Emilia kept a frown throughout my speech "I'm sorry," her hands raised to her face to wipe her tears away "you're right. You can say it again: you're a spoiled brat."
I placed my hand on her thigh, giving her a soft smile "You are a spoiled brat, but that doesn't make you a bad person — you're just out of touch, my darling."
She sniffled "Do you think I'll see my dad again, Simon?"
"I don't know, and I wish I could give you a concrete answer."
Emilia nodded "You'll need to teach me how to be an orphan then."
A sigh left my mouth "Well, that I can do. No doubt."
[Emilia Soranzo]
It's hard to come to the realisation that I might not see my dad again. That the next time I see him he might be in a coffin. The amount of time I've been held here is quite telling; this is a complicated situation and there's probably no way out of it.
"Emilia, what are you doing out here?" Simon asked as he squatted down in front of me. I've been outside for fifteen minutes; I had to take advantage of him getting in the shower.
I shrugged "I didn't want to be inside."
"Well, you cannot be outside without supervision or a coat on."
My eyes focused on the lights from the little town; they're barely making an appearance "I remember the first time I managed to sneak out of the embassy; my security escort found me not even an hour later, and my parents were mortified — especially dad; he always felt it was his fault I was always in danger."
"Emilia, we need to go inside," he straightened up.
"But after scolding me, he came into my bedroom and held me for such a long time. He apologised for the harshness of his tone before and for the position he had put me on, because I had no say in the circumstances I was born into." I kept my knees close to my chest as tears sprung my eyes "I keep having this feeling the next time I see him, it will be through plexiglass, whilst he lies dead in a coffin. How do I make that go away, Simon?" My lower lip quivered.
He extended out his hand and I took it. Simon pulled me up and wrapped his arm around my shoulder to lead me back inside. Without an answer, I made my way back to my bedroom.
"Wait."
I halted "I'll help with dinner, I pro—"
"Put your shoes on; we're going somewhere," he said.
Simon Riley (LT. Ghost) [39] (this is just how I imagine him)