Words: 5784
Couple: Bryn Keller/Logan Thompson
Notes: Part two of Rythmn of the Night, for Bryn and Logan, requested by Ezra_DeJesus because they wanted to see a bit more fluff, bit more background, and a bit more equality in the bedroom ohoho~ I hope you enjoy it! Comment and vote, definitely tell me what you think of this couple and if you're looking forward to seeing more of them, both in one-shots and in the third book!
Ratings/Warnings: 18+, erotic, contains graphic sexual content, mentions of assault, fluff
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I wasn't one for emotions, and I never had been, not even when I was younger. I was always the quiet one at school, on the playground, and at home. I didn't have friends because my silence made me weird, so whenever I thought back, all I could remember was sitting alone on a swing set watching kids playing on the rest of the equipment during recess. Later on I remembered sitting alone on a bench under a tree, sitting alone in the cafeteria with a bag lunch and a book, near the trash cans, sitting alone in the school library, alone on the bleachers during sporting events.
Always alone, always in complete silence. That was why the transition had been so easy for me. I'd gone years without speaking, yet it didn't feel different, and remaining silent was never difficult for me, because it wasn't anything new. Even now I still remembered the last thing I ever said, six, seven years ago, to my brother.
I remember how he reached over to take my shoulder, squeezing it, saying simply, don't die on me. I remember looking him in the eye and saying, "I won't die."
That was the last conversation I had with another human. In the years since, I'd spoken on occasion, normally under my breath, more often than not they were curses or insults, but I never spoke to another person. Ironically enough it was Carina who taught me sign language when we first met, so I could hold conversations with him and the others. It was easy for them to accept, that I was "mute", they were nice like that. I didn't want to talk, because opening my mouth and talking made me feel empty, so I just didn't talk, and I used the scar on my throat as an excuse.
My silence made me a good assassin. I was trained to manipulate it, that silence, and make it my greatest ally. My entire existence was quiet, lethal, and my training with the Con Rồng only helped to hone those skills. I was brutal, a silent killer, I lived and thrived in complete darkness where the only sound was the blood screaming in my ears from the adrenaline rush of stabbing the blade of a knife through a man's throat.
I was trained to be hyper aware of everything around me, my senses dialed to eleven, so did I notice that I was being followed when I snuck out of the rebellion?
Yea, I noticed. I noticed instantly, but I decided not to make it obvious, out of pure curiosity. What moron would follow me through a window and proceed to stalk me like a freak? Bryn Keller, apparently. Then again, I kind of immediately figured he was an idiot. An intriguing idiot, but still an idiot.
When I first saw him, he didn't look like much. He wasn't eye catching really, rather simple looking, but it wasn't his appearance that made me curious. It was the way he acted, his body language, which was probably a lot louder than he realized. Around his Syndicate, he was always remarkably relaxed, shoulders in a simple slump, loose, calm, especially around Tobias.
Around anyone else, his posture became tight, wound, tense and anxious. I noticed it was even worse when someone he didn't know approached him first. His body would tighten and his eyes would grow darker, his gaze nothing but pure distrust and suspicion. If he was standing with Tobias or Carter, that gaze would be a warning, offensive, like he was watching for a reason to attack the newcomer, waiting for them to prove themselves a threat.
If he was alone and someone approached him, his posture would be defensive, uneasy. It was almost like if he didn't have someone to protect, then he showed this hidden insecurity, this fear, and I didn't understand it at first. He was so violently afraid and untrusting of everyone around him, but why?
I won't lie, that curiosity is part of what had me attacking him in the arena that day. I wanted to see how he would react to someone roundhouse kicking him in the jaw. Granted I didn't expect him to wipe the blood from his lip with a thumb and shrug his coat off before sprinting at me for a rebound attack, but it did shed some light on his strange body language.
Bryn didn't seem to shy away from violence. At all. In fact he seemed right at home when sparring me, and I'll be the first to praise him on his brutal techniques. For a man wearing shiny shoes and pressed clothes without a single wrinkle, he fought like a back alley delinquent, and I was admittedly impressed.
He wasn't afraid of violence, of fighting, so when he showed that unease when strangers approached him, it wasn't because he was scared of getting hit. Something else, some other deep rooted trauma and fear, was the cause behind the way he clenched his hands to hide the shaking when people stepped up to him.
When I realized he was the one following me, I let him, because part of me wanted to see if I could get the answer out of him when we were alone, but I never actually expected the answer I got. I knew why he was the way he was now, and I didn't like it.
What was it he said?
Maybe I can distract you at the very least. I'm good at being a tool to bury yourself in to hide from problems.
... with my group in Vienna, I did this a lot, slept with people to distract them from their problems. Usually it helped them calm down and think clearly enough that they wouldn't make any stupid choices.
Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not very good at giving advice or helping people emotionally, so using my body as a therapeutic way to deal with issues is just what I've always done for people.
Do whatever makes you feel better.
Use me to the fullest until you feel better.
What a fucking moron.
No one offers that kind of thing, no one lets themselves get used and abused sexually, unless they have some serious issues. With themselves, maybe their personal image, due to insecurity. They think they're unlikable, unattractive, so they offer themselves to others sexually as a way to feel better about themselves. They do it because they have abandonment issues and want to be held for the night, they just don't want to be alone.
Or they do it because in the past it was done to them without their control, they had no say in it, and the only catharsis they could find was to immerse themselves in the lifestyle of a whore, because it was the only thing they understood.
Even if it was a reaction of traumatic experience, somehow whoring himself had become normal. He offered himself as a tool to take my stress out with because maybe in the past, when he said no, it was forced. Maybe in the past he didn't have a choice, so he figures now if he's the one to offer it first, at least he still has some form of control over what happens to him, and to his body.
And that pissed me off so much.
When people he didn't know approached him, the reason he tensed up in defense like that, was because he was expecting them to attack him.
Fuck that pissed me off.
Bryn wasn't a small or vulnerable looking man. He had a good amount of muscle, he looked decently intimidating when he snarled, and he could pack a punch and take a punch like a champ, yet he had this pure vulnerability that could put him out of commission so fucking easily. I was willing to bet no one knew about it either.
His Syndicate friends definitely didn't know. Seeing how protective Tobias was of Carter, and how close he was to Bryn, gave me enough information to know if the man knew about Bryn's fear, then Bryn would not be wandering around alone as much as he did now. No, I imagine he'd have a guard detail trailing him at all times.
It was almost amusing to me, because at first I didn't even realize just how much I was watching Bryn from a distance, how often I found myself thinking about him and wondering why he was the way he was. It was only after I'd discovered exactly why, when we were sitting on that couch making out like highschoolers, that I realized how much the idiot had consumed my attention.
I should've known better than to sleep with him. That kind of stimulation made me unable to control my voice, and for the first time in years I spoke. Then again I suppose it was only fair for him to discover my secret at the same time I discovered his, right? Even deeper than that... I shouldn't have pushed him back on the couch.
Sex once, for pure necessity, was nothing, but a second time? A second time was opening a door that I never wanted to open. Vulnerability I didn't want to show. I knew myself very well, and I knew that if I laid with him like that, so intimately, then I was going to start to feel something, and I'd fought for fucking years to not feel a damn thing, because feeling only lead to hurt, to loss, to emptiness.
I felt for my brother, my family, the one who literally raised me, and I had to watch that Russian bitch drag him away from me. All I could do was lie there bleeding with my eyes almost entirely shut as I lost my brother both physically and emotionally. I lost my mother, lost my father, for a while I almost lost myself. After it ended and I was alone on a quiet battlefield, still bleeding, I made a silent vow to never feel again.
Additionally, I made a vow of silence, to never speak again either.
Words were doors to emotion, and emotion lead to caring about others, and if I did that, it would just destroy me in the end.
Meeting Carina and Orion didn't change my vow at all. I liked them, sure, I wouldn't deny it, and I would happily fight and kill for them, protect them and keep them safe, but I wouldn't mourn if I had to leave them.
I didn't shed a tear when Maggie died, and I wouldn't shed a tear if any of the rest of them died.
After so long with them, I'd spent the most time with Carina, and despite everything, I became somewhat attached, and he liked to call me his best friend, but I wouldn't cry if he were to die either. I would feel pain, I know that, but I wouldn't cry.
Nothing would be the same now, though, because this door wasn't one I could close twice. So even knowing it would likely destroy me, why was I so willing to hold Bryn's face between my hands and kiss him like my life depended on it?
It was Bryn's fault, because of what he said. Make me feel insignificant. The idiot couldn't just say shit like that. Really, I had no plans of doing anything more than kiss him, feel the warmth of his lips against my own, and touch him, card my fingers through his hair and memorize the curves of his body with my fingertips.
But when he said that, I wanted more. I wanted to do what he asked and make him feel as insignificant as I felt. Insignificant, but filled with power. I shouldn't have, I know that. I should have had more self control. The only time I was ever sexually active was when Blu raped me, I never really wanted to be in that kind of relationship, but Bryn...
I slept with him because I thought I could teach him something about self pride and being more confident in himself. I thought maybe if he knew what if felt like to enjoy sex, then maybe he'd be more willing to say no to his own men when they came to him to relieve stress. I shouldn't have done even that much, because that was the door I shouldn't have opened.
I shouldn't have slept with him in the first place, and I should have left when we were done, but I didn't. I stayed, I kissed him again, I kicked that door off its hinges, sitting in his lap, one arm around his shoulders, one hand on his face, and despite everything, let myself feel. I guess I was taking my own shitty advice.
You must take chances and bear yourself completely to another, that's how you connect and fall in love. It's different than stripping nude. Being truly naked is stripping your very soul and giving another human access to everything you are, despite the chance of being completely shattered.
There were still a few bandages on his face from when we'd sparred, and when my thumbs smoothed across them, I silently hoped he wasn't hurting, but at the same time the only thing I cared about was overpowering that possible pain with pure pleasure.
Luckily I knew how to have sex with men, or this would be awkward for me. Instead I found it completely effortless to slide my hands along his bare chest, feeling grateful he hadn't taken the time to put his shirt back on, so there was one less piece of clothing separating us.
I suppose I should have tried being a bit gentler when I pushed him onto his back so he was lying over the cushions of the couch, but he wasn't complaining. He just curled his fingers into the shoulders of my shirt, lips parting as my hands worked to open his jeans.
The only thing I could really deduce of his experiences was that they weren't good, and more likely than not, no part of him had wanted it, so this time, I wanted him to enjoy it. I was getting overexcited, but my excitement would just make me forget about being gentle with him, and that wouldn't be fun at all.
So I took a moment to calm down, parting from the kiss and pressing my forehead against his, my eyes closed. He was going to enjoy this. When my eyes opened, I saw him watching me, something along the lines of confusion on his face, and I lifted a hand to hold his cheek, fighting the smile as he lifted a hand to touch the backs of my fingers.
The glass windows of the building we were in had been broken out and cracked, probably years ago, letting in the freezing air of midnight, made worse by the dry winter we were in the middle of, but wrapped in Bryn's arms, especially in the middle of something like this, I couldn't even feel the cold.
I was heating up, burning, my sweat mixing with his, his nails biting into my bare back when I tore my shirt from over my head and threw it, connecting to him the same way he'd connected to me just minutes before.
"Are you used to this?" I asked, my lips against his ear, and his nails bit deeper into my back.
"I'm more used to this than... topping," he murmured back to me, and my eyes shut when I felt his grip loosen so his fingertips could trace the scars along my back, the old and thin ones I knew were there, "How did these happen?" he asked me, feeling the ones on my upper back, scarring my shoulder blades.
I opened my eyes to stare at his neck, not lifting away as I answered, because I didn't want to see the look in his eyes, "Disobedience," I explained simply, "I was very unruly in my youth."
"So someone beat you?" Bryn asked on a whisper, and I laughed harshly, soft but rough.
"Don't worry, it never worked. I'm still unruly," I leaned up, one arm reaching above Bryn to hold the arm of the couch above his head, hovering over him and meeting his eye, "Something I learned a long time ago, you can only break if you let yourself," I shook my head a little, "I won't let anything or anyone break me."
My free hand tightened on his hip as I moved, slipping into him, and he hissed through his teeth, eyes pinching closed and head tilting back. I hadn't meant to hurt him, but I suppose I should have taken more time to prepare him for me. I moved my hand from his hip to his thigh, my fingers rubbing in small circles to massage the tense skin, as if it would ease the pain, and remained completely still otherwise.
He was tight around me, and in a way it made me happy, because it meant no one had touched him in a while. No one had forced him or tricked him into bed. He'd been able to relax. It also meant he was gonna have some issue walking back to the rebellion, but he deserved it for stalking me like a creep.
After a moment he sighed, his face evening out and his body relaxing, though his eyes remained closed, "You think you can control it?" he asked me, "Keep yourself from breaking through sheer willpower?"
I tilted my head in curiosity at his words, "I already broke," I argued, "It's different for someone who's already broken. It's not what you do to fight off the break that makes a difference... it's how you respond once you've been broken. You make a choice to give up, or keep going... and I made a choice to keep going."
"Really...," he mumbled, eyes half lidded, cheeks flushed, one hand lifting to touch the scar on my throat; he seemed to really like touching that scar, "Then what broke you?"
I just stared, pondering his question as I remembered the past, even further back than the war, the sound of a monotonous beep flat-lining, a cold hand slacking in mine, seeing my father's back before the door slammed shut, shaky arms wrapped around me. For a moment I considered telling him, but instead I answered his question with my own.
"What broke you?" the look he gave me was weak, and I decided not to push him on the subject, instead leaning down so our faces were inches apart and moving the hand on his thigh to cup around his face, "Put your arms around me."
He looked uncertain at that, completely tensing up beneath me, but he didn't look away and kept my gaze, looking between my eyes. I could tell he was thinking hard, as if assessing if he could touch me, if it would be okay, or if he should just lay there and let me do what I wanted with him, which is exactly what I didn't want him to do.
So it made me feel a bit more confident when he hesitantly lifted his arms, his hands slipping across my biceps with a feather light touch, carefully wrapping his arms up around my neck, lips pressed into a tight line, still watching me with unease, though he started to relax again when I leaned down to capture his lips with my own.
Kissing him was actually kind of nice. I liked how he responded, the slow massage of his lips to match mine, and the way he grew so eager the longer we stayed like that, like he constantly forgot he liked to kiss me, until he was kissing me again and remembered how good it felt.
His fingers raked through the back of my hair, less uneasy now, his other hand pressing against the middle of my back to get me closer, and I obliged by carefully pressing my body down against his, feeling his skin against mine and taking his bottom lip between my teeth as I started to move my hips against his, drinking the gasp he gave and losing a bit of my composure as I plunged my tongue into his mouth to kiss him deeper and make him so breathless he clawed my skin.
The panting and the little moans he gave while I was riding him were pleasant, they sounded nice, but being above him again, this time inside him, brought out different noises, and they made me feel different. I wanted to hear more. I couldn't figure out why I was so excited about doing this, why it felt so good, why I'd gotten so hard for him so quickly.
Bryn wasn't anything really special to look at the first time, I didn't see him and immediately think he was a God, and if I was being honest, Tobias looked hotter than Bryn did, hell, so did Carter, but suddenly he looked so different than what I remembered. I probably shouldn't have opened my eyes, really. I kept making my own situation worse.
His brown hair was somewhat short, but long enough to reach his ears, and while at first it looked rather simple, the shade of brown was suddenly more than that. This close to him, the hair looked more like a dark chestnut, with darker low-lights that appeared almost black.
I noticed when he opened his eyes that the brown low-lights matched the dark of his eyes, almost black in the dim lighting, with designs that were a much paler tawny just around the edges of his iris and his pupil. I wasn't going to lie or over exaggerate, saying they were the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen, but I liked them.
I liked the darkness, the simplicity, how easy it was for me to read him through those eyes, how effortless it was to find the unease and fear. I told him to trust me, he said I wouldn't disappoint him, but I could tell through his eyes that deep down, he was worried that I might. That fear made me feel stubborn, more motivated to hold that fragile trust to my heart, more determined to be the only person in the world he wasn't afraid would betray him.
I hated being stubborn sometimes.
Both my hands took his face, his eyes grew a little wider, and my hips rolled against him as I lowered my head to kiss him again. His moans touched my lips and his fingers bit into my skin as I struggled to keep some semblance of control on myself and my own instinct. God was it hard, though. All I wanted to do at that point was take him as hard as I could until we both broke, but at the same time I knew I had to be gentle with him.
So I relented, moved slowly but firmly, wrapped one arm beneath his shoulders and kept one hand on the side of his face as I rolled my body into his, eyes shut and letting myself see him through the heat of our bodies. It was almost worse than if I were watching him with my eyes.
The breathless gasps, panting, moans and small cries that he tried to keep down, his body rocking against mine to meet my thrusts, our lips always together, even if they were merely brushing together while we gasped, teeth biting, nails scratching, his thighs squeezing my hips.
I wasn't used to topping, really I didn't expect to enjoy it this much, and the most shocking part was that I also had really enjoyed being topped by Bryn. Giving and taking, topping and being topped, pure equality I'd never experienced before.
His nails broke my skin and he nearly screamed into my mouth when he climaxed, I barely contained my own curses as I hid my face in his hair and grew rigid as I came hard, panting and using a hand to push his hair back from his face, leaning up and looking down at him. His face was red, but he looked calm, tired, staring past me.
At first he looked confused, like the pleasure made absolutely no sense to him, his gaze slowly moving to me when I pushed his hair back behind his ear. For the longest time we just stared at each other, before a look of discomfort lifted across Bryn's face and I realized I was still inside him, so I reached down to hold his hip while I removed myself, prompting him to cringe slightly.
My first thought in the afterglow was immediate regret, that I shouldn't have done that, slept with him a second time, or at all, but the second and more prominent thought was that it was done, and there was nothing I could do to change it. So I decided not to waste my time whining about that door I'd never be able to close again, and laid down on top of Bryn, my head on his chest.
His hands were still on my shoulders, tightening when I laid down, tensing beneath me, "What are you doing?" he asked, and the unease in his voice was obvious, but I just grunted.
"Cuddling," I answered, my eyes closed, "You've successfully distracted me and ruined my plans, so you have to cuddle me now."
"Uh," the noise of confusion he uttered was almost cute, but I fought the smile as I concentrated on the way he slipped his hands slowly across my back, "Okay..."
"You don't know how to cuddle, do you?" I asked with a scoff, "Didn't your mom or dad ever hug you?"
"No," he answered simply, and I let my eyes open in a squint as he began to rub my back, fingers carefully feeling over the scars and the new scratches he'd caused, "I didn't know my father well, and my mother made money as a hostess and prostitute. I left home when I was twelve."
"Isn't that sort of young?" I asked, and Bryn hummed.
"I was already working with the Mafia by then. I started working as a smuggler when I was eight."
My hands curled into fists at his shoulders and I glared at the walls, loose trash fluttering from the cold breeze blowing through the broken windows, "When did you start... acting like a therapist?"
Bryn's hand stopped at the small of my back, and he was silent as if wondering if he should reply or not, though he did finally answer, "I can't really remember," he admitted, "I was the youngest member of the lower ranking street fighters, word got around fast, and when they found out about my mother, they kind of just... decided my role for me. I was maybe thirteen or fourteen. It was before I met Tobias."
While I was pleased at the fact he'd actually told me that, I still felt sick at it, my hands squeezing his biceps. He'd stated it so nonchalantly too, as if he was telling me what the weather was. It just made me angrier, and I desperately wanted to meet the rest of his Syndicate. It had been a while since I really used my abilities, my forced talent of assassination, what better people to use it on than the ones who hurt Bryn?
I was pretty certain Tobias, Klaus, and Sasha had never done anything like that to Bryn, in fact I was willing to bet Klaus and Sasha had as much understanding of his assault as Tobias did, which was none, but that didn't change the fact I wanted to kick the fuck out of everyone who'd taken advantage of him. That would be fun.
"You've known Florian for a while then," I murmured, shutting my eyes when Bryn began tracing his fingers across my back again.
"Yea. He's a childhood friend, my first friend. Back then, I didn't socialize much outside of work, didn't go to school or anything like that. The mafia taught me most of what I know. Adalwolf, our doctor, he was the doctor back then too. He was sort of a teacher to me. I learned science, math, and basic social studies from him. I think my mom taught me to read, and the mafia taught me English because it was necessary to speak it in our line of work. Later on I taught Tobias. All the other languages he knows he taught himself." he paused, "I never wanted him to get involved with the mafia, but he wouldn't stop following me around, and ended up getting sucked into it just like I did. I regret letting him join every day."
"Would he have survived the war if he hadn't of joined?" I asked, and Bryn was quiet again before sighing.
"Probably not," he admitted, and I pushed myself up to hover over him again, meeting his eye with a serious stare of my own.
"Tobias seems like he's doing fine, he seems at home with the Syndicate. You're the one who seems like you shouldn't have been dragged into it."
Bryn just laughed at that, "Doesn't really matter now, I suppose."
I breathed through my nose and laid back down, "Tobias never would have met Carter if he hadn't joined the mafia either," I tested, and Bryn just sighed heavily, that same exasperated sigh he would give Tobias, and I had to ask, "You don't like him, do you?"
"I don't not like him," Bryn disagreed, "I just... have history with him that makes me suspicious. Though I suppose after so long being nothing but genuine and helpful to the Syndicate, I should be a bit more accepting. My best friend married him after all, that's got to mean something. Tobias isn't an idiot, he wouldn't keep Carter in his life if he wasn't something special."
"So you like him," I mumbled, and Bryn hummed.
"I've come to accept him, and not just for Tobias' sake. I met him years ago, and in that time I guess... I've gotten used to him. After this last time, coming to the rebellion and seeing him like that, seeing Tobias break in response...," he paused, but I just frowned, "I feel empathy for him, because I understand what he went through on a personal level."
"Wait," I pushed myself up again, staring at Bryn, "What do you mean empathy? Seeing him like what?"
Bryn stared at me, "You didn't see him when he first got to the rebellion?"
"I didn't see him until I saw you and Tobias. The first I saw him was with Tobias," I shook my head, "Was he there before that?"
Bryn sat up, staring off to the side, "He was there a full month before we got there, and he was in the infirmary a full month after. For years he was betraying the Con Rồng and his brother by sending Tobias inside information about their numbers, weapons, and their movements and plans, and they found out after the last time he helped Inou and that kid escape. So they kept him prisoner, tortured him for four months straight, nearly killed him. He's still not completely right in the head, and I get the feeling he never will be."
"Tortured," I scoffed a little, but I couldn't deny there'd been something off about Carter.
When I first met him he was cold, emotionless, when Blu told him to do something, he did it. When he was training me he was quiet and calculated, he scowled and glared, he just gave off an aura of unapproachable dislike. Every since seeing him here, however, I'd noticed a serious change in him, something I wasn't familiar with.
He was still quiet, but those scowls and glares were gone, replaced by glazed eyes and constant flinching whenever anyone approached him. He definitely acted traumatized and as if he'd been beaten and tortured for months on end, but still. He was the one who trained me to be the way I was, he helped separate me from my only family. There was no way I would ever forgive him for that.
I couldn't say that to Bryn though. If he knew about my past with the Con Rồng, then he may hate me, and after tonight, I really doubt I'd be able to handle him hating me.
I turned and threw my legs over the edge of the couch, reaching for the clothes I'd thrown onto the ground, "Come on, it'll only get colder if we stay here. Let's head home."
"I thought you had something you wanted to do?" Bryn asked me, and I laughed with a shake of my head.
"You did what you wanted to do and distracted me. I'm not angry anymore, I just want to sleep," I stood up and fixed the zipper and button of my jeans, then grabbed my shirt, "Come on."
Bryn moved behind me, grabbing his clothes and pulling them on. I turned back to look at him as I fixed the high collar of my shirt, watching him yank his shirt over his head and step closer to me, giving me a curious look.
"Do you still want to cuddle, or can I go back to my room when we get home?"
I scoffed and started for the door, "I haven't decided yet," I said, even though I definitely had.
"So are you going to tell me why you left in the first place?" Bryn asked from behind me, and I chuckled.
"No."
"Then are you going to tell me anything at all?"
I turned so I was walking backwards and gave him my best smile, which probably came off as somewhat demented, "No."
"Then what was the point of this?" he asked, and I hummed, turning back around to watch where I was going.
"That's to be decided," I said, reaching up to touch my throat and looking up at the moon, the clouds curling through it, "I'll say one thing though... I won't break your trust," my lips pressed tightly together, and I decided I wouldn't look back at him to see his expression, "So... don't worry. Also, I meant what I said when I asked you not to tell anyone about me talking. Don't expect me to hold a conversation with you. I'd be happy to teach you ASL though."
"Will you ever talk to me again?" Bryn stepped up beside me, and I flicked my gaze to him before humming.
"Maybe. Do you want me to?"
He shrugged, "Might be nice to talk to someone besides Tobias. I love the guy, but it gets frustrating. Can't handle him sometimes."
"If we're ever alone like that again," I said, my hand tightening around the strap of the bag hanging over my shoulder, "Keep your window unlocked. We can cuddle later."
"Okay..."
He didn't sound nervous or fearful when I said we would cuddle, he just sounded confused, and again, that was a bit cute. Yea, fine, that door was long gone by now, but... it wasn't like I was walking through it alone. Somehow, the fact Bryn was with me, made it easier. I was vulnerable, but so was he.
At least we were vulnerable together.