As much as John wanted to end Shaun just as he'd ended Marcel and the other men who dared to hurt Harley, he had to consider Shaun's wife and young son.
He wished it were as simple as putting a bullet into the head of his enemy, but when that enemy had a family who were innocent of the sins of their patriarch, things took on a more complicated hue.
At least, for the time being, John could comfort himself in knowing that Shaun was about to be exposed. Robby wouldn't let him roam around the town without investigation. He would sit down with every young person in Wudinna and find out if Shaun's proclivities had continued on since the end of the world.
In John's experience, men who preyed upon little girls weren't likely to stop once they started.
At the end of a very difficult day, John dragged himself to bed. Harley had already been there for hours by that time, having taken to her safety bubble once again. The sooner he could get her out of Wudinna and far away from the constant reminder of her traumatic past the better.
John climbed into his side of the bed as quietly and softly as he could muster, not wanting to wake Harley back into a reality she really shouldn't have had to be dealing with in the first place.
It was quiet and still for the first while, lulling John into that strange place between wakefulness and sleep. The place where words and thoughts and images flipped randomly through one's brain like a flip book animation, never stopping on one thing long enough to get a clear picture.
It was in that odd state that John experienced a long forgotten sensation and was pulled upward from his subconscious and back into reality. He opened his eyes to affirm that yes, those indeed were Harley's warm lips pressed against his own.
Utterly confused, John pulled away, "Harley?"
She closed the distance between them once again, pressing into his mouth with her own. John had to admit it was nice to feel such affections from Harley, but he knew in his gut that her actions were anything but genuine.
Harley brought her hand up and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb over his stubble while she showered him in sweet little pecks.
He gathered himself and pulled away once again, "Harley I-" he began, but Harley cut in, "Sshh," she insisted as she relieved herself of her blanket and proceeded to climb on top of John, straddling his hips in nothing but a tank top and panties.
John exhaled a heavy breath as Harley leaned down and kissed his lips once more, then traced a line of kisses down his cheek to his neck. Feeling her warm body on top of his was nearly enough to send John over the edge, and for several beautiful moments, he found himself completely swept up in the delight of the experience. He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair then cradled her head with both hands, kissing her back, matching her energy.
John felt his way down Harley's body, her breasts, her petite waist, then chanced a feel of her silky thighs and couldn't help but to slide his hands further, caressing her bottom. It had been so painfully long since John had experienced the softness of a woman.
Harley's breath grew in its eagerness and suddenly she pulled away from John's lips, leaning back and reached between her legs for the buttons on John's jeans.
It took every last bit of decency John had in him to do what he did next.
"Wait," he whispered breathlessly.
She seemed to listen, but only for a moment as she slipped her fingertips under John's shirt, leaning forward to kiss him once again, "I want this," she said softly between pecks.
John sucked in a breath of air, his heart pounding and his body aching with need at those three, simple words. Again he was swept away, and reached up to embrace the back of Harley's neck, kissing her with a potent lust.
She pressed her body into his firmly, and before he knew it, John had gripped onto the meat of her thighs and took to assisting in the ebb and flow of her body.
Harley leaned up once more, reaching down and that time successfully managing to unbutton and unzip John's jeans.
Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day- Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day!
"Wait, stop," John groaned, hating the words as they spilled from his lips.
Harley tried to ignore him and reached into his boxers.
John grabbed Harley's upper arms firmly, "Harley, no. Not like this," he uttered, betraying every cell in his body.
Breathless, Harley brushed her silky hair behind her ears, "Why not?"
John let go of her arms and rubbed his hands over his face, the poor man's equivalent of a cold shower.
"Because, this isn't you. You're not yourself right now"
Harley made a breathy sound of exasperation, "What do you care?" She asked snidely as she dismounted John.
"If you do this right now, you'll regret it, Harley, and I refuse to be that man. If after this thing with Shaun is over and done with and you still feel the way you're feeling right now, then I'm here and ready. . Believe me when I say that," John explained, speaking quietly.
Feeling rejected and defensive, Harley stood from the bed and wrapped herself in her blanket, "I'm going to the couch"
"No, you take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch," John insisted as he got out of bed and zipped up his jeans.
Harley rolled her eyes and sat back down, "Ever get sick of being the good guy?"
"You have no idea," John uttered, throwing his blanket over his shoulder and leaving the room as quickly as his weakened legs would take him.