Chapter 18 Remi
REMI
Miscommunication trope.
Had I really just made my very own miscommunication trope?
If I had, it was the most short-lived one I’d ever seen—I was shivering from the cold, but the heat pooling in my stomach at Streeter’s words made me completely forget about the temperature.
“You’re… w-what?” I know I sound shocked, but I can’t help it. I’ve been quietly fantasizing about what things could be like if Streeter still wanted to see me once the snow melted, but…
“Did you really think all of this was just because I wanted to stay warm, Hummingbird?”
All of this…
He’s looking behind him at the fireplace, at the blankets on my body. At his hand still holding my calves as he shifts closer, forcing my legs apart so he can come up on his knees and fill my world with the golden color of his eyes.
“I don’t know, I…” I trail off, lost in the way he’s looking at me.
Wow. Miscommunication trope is ridiculous, isn’t it?
“If I could kill that asshole again for making you doubt yourself, I would in a fucking heartbeat. I’d kill him over and over, each way more brutal than the last if it made you realize that you’re worth keeping safe, Hummingbird.
No one will ever hurt you again, Rem. Do you hear me?
No one. You’re stuck with me. If you try to run…
” Streeter leans in, brushing his lips slowly along mine with a smirk.
“I’m a serial killer. It’ll take a lot to get rid of me. ”
My heart is beating so fast in my chest that I can’t think—I’m dizzy with it, with how close he is. With how sincere he sounds. I open my mouth to tell him I think I might be in love with him, and all that comes out is…
“Mass murderer.”
Streeter stops kissing me. “What?”
“You… said… you said you were a mass murderer, not a…” I trail off. “Forget about it. Kiss me again?”
Streeter gives me the oddest expression before he surges forward, pressing me back onto the couch as his mouth lands on mine.
The heat of his body permeates through me, chasing the chills that still try to linger beneath my skin.
With him this close, I’m not sure why I ever thought I needed to leave, why I thought I needed to give him space.
With him this close, the only thing I can think about is how much I don’t want whatever happened between us to end.
“Streeter?” I finally manage to tear my lips away from him long enough to speak, though he doesn’t seem like he’s in the mood to stop.
He drops from my lips to my neck, sucking my skin hard enough that I know he’s going to leave behind a bruise, and hard enough that he definitely tears a moan from my throat before I can think to hold it in.
“Hm?” Is the best I get as his arms slide around my waist, fingers greedy when they dip beneath my shirt. The heat of them sliding against my chilled skin makes me gasp again.
“I-if…” Coherent thought isn’t really my friend as I try to speak. “If you meant what you said—”
“Of course, I meant what I said.” He turns those golden eyes up to me, and they’re blazing like the fire in front of us.
“If you really meant it,” I continue on, forcing myself to speak over the way his expression goes darker.
“Fuck me right here in front of the fire like you want me to believe you.” I can’t believe the words that are coming out of my mouth, or how bold I sound, but at the same time, it makes sense.
“Fuck me hard enough that I won’t try to run again.
” I lean in, my fingers shaking when they slowly slide through his hair, and I press my mouth against his.
I’m not demanding it—I’m begging. “Show me that you want to keep me—show me hard enough that I can’t help but believe you. Make me believe you.”
His pupils blow, and this close, it’s all I can see. It consumes me, a black hole dragging me in and telling me I’m probably asking for more than I can handle, that Streeter might actually break me to prove the point I’m demanding he burn across my soul.
Good.
That’s what this whole trip has been—me breaking, me falling apart. It’s everything that has ever held me back or made me doubt myself dying and shattering and being reborn.
This is the last thing. I need him to kill the part of me that thinks I’m not worth keeping. I want to be reborn in the feel of him ripping me to pieces.
I want to take my first real breath with my lips pressed to his—I want to feel my heart beat for the first time with our bodies entwined.
“Hummingbird.” Streeter is already pulling me in front of the fireplace and laying the blankets he’d wrapped around my body on the floor in a little nest.
“Hm?”
“You’re never going to get rid of me now,” he murmurs. His teeth feel sharp against my throat. “I’ll chase you if you try to run, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to get in my way.”
I have one word to answer that.
“Good.”
It’s proof of exactly what we’ve been getting up to that Streeter doesn’t have to get up to find the lube he stashed by the fireplace. His hands are warm as he strips us both down, and I’m caught up in the way the fire glows on his skin while he slicks his fingers and slides them between my legs.
My body goes limp when he thrusts two thick digits inside me, ready and willing to open up for him.
The taste of my pulse on the back of my tongue is nearly too much to breathe around, but Streeter doesn’t give me a chance to try.
He brings his mouth back to mine and kisses me until it’s his air filling my lungs, his demand that draws a moan from me and makes me gasp.
“Fuck, please…” I whimper, and I know I sound desperate, but he seems to eat it up. Streeter licks along my jawline and crooks his fingers, adding a third and stretching me until the pressure is almost too much while it also isn’t enough. “I need you.”
His eyes burn as bright as the fire at my words, but Streeter pulls his hand back and shifts to slot himself between my legs. One arm slides beneath my knee, lifting me up so he can press the tip of his cock against my slick hole, and the other drops to the blanket beside my head.
“Tell me what you want, Hummingbird,” Streeter breathes as he stares down at me.
“Everything.” It’s what I wanted to say before, it’s what I’ve been wanting to say. “I want everything, Streeter. And I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met who can give it to me. Just you.”
After that, there’s nothing but motion. Streeter’s hips thrust forward hard enough that the air nearly knocks from my lungs, and he catches the gasp in another kiss as he fucks me.
It’s so… intimate like this. We’re breathing each other’s air, feeding one another pants and moans.
It’s not just the way his cock dives inside me, driving me wild—it’s him.
It’s the halo of his eyes as he watches me like he wants to burn the memory of this moment across his soul. It’s how good it feels when his arms slide around me and he pulls me closer, letting me feel the friction of his abs flexing against my cock while he fucks me hard and deep.
It’s not just fucking—it’s claiming.
Possession.
I feel owned by each movement, each rock of his hips. Streeter’s fingers dig into my back in ten perfect points of pressure that I hope leave bruises. I’d let him write his name across my body like that if he wanted.
Fuck, I’d let him do anything. I’d been willing to since that first time I dropped to my knees, and it hasn’t changed.
I don’t know how much time passes that way—with him fucking me so hard my entire body aches, with his fingers digging impressions all along my back, his nails dragging across my skin. I lean my head back and let out a low groan when he sucks a bruise onto my neck.
Once he’s done, he pulls back and his eyes focus on the spot. “You look so good with my marks on your skin.” His fingers dance over the spot, light and tender despite how his cock is nearly ripping me in two. “I fucking own you now, Hummingbird.”
“I think you have for a while…” The confession spills out before I can stop it, and it makes his eyes spark as he dips his head, doing it again.
And again.
Again… until he’s trailed across my entire throat and I know it probably looks like he put me in a collar. When he kisses me, I almost think I can taste the faintest hint of copper on his tongue.
“Only I can touch you.” He sucks another bruise onto my skin. “Only I can fuck you this good. Only fucking me, Remington.”
I tangle my fingers in his hair and give myself over to the sensation of him completely wrecking me. I could live in the sensation of it, could die happily knowing he was filling me up. Streeter’s mouth on mine demands I stay here, though, that I stay present.
That I stay—
“With me,” he whispers the demand against my lips hard and hot, like he knows what I’m thinking. It takes my mind a second to catch up to what he’s asking as he twists, dropping his hand between us so he can take my cock in his skilled fingers and start pumping me.
The pace is hard and brutal, his fingers doing some kind of witchcraft that makes the pleasure that had slowly started knotting in my stomach begin to blossom across my skin.
“With me, Hummingbird.” He snarls this time and twists his wrist, and I understand.
With him—fuck. His body tenses as he tightens his grip and forces me over the edge as he comes.
With him.
That’s the only place I want to be.
My entire body jars with how roughly he fucks me through his orgasm, but it’s perfect—it’s everything I need.
I feel like he’s tearing me apart as pleasure blossoms through me.
He draws my orgasm out one rough thrust, one demanding stroke of his fingers at a time until my vision is dancing in spots and I can’t think.
I can’t breathe.
There’s nothing but Streeter inside me—nothing but the feeling of bliss while I float…
I’m faintly aware when he lowers me to the ground, and I whine softly when he presses his fingers inside me. It takes me a second to realize what he’s doing as he thrusts in slow, deliberate movements that make me shiver.
“Just like that, Hummingbird,” he murmurs. “We’re together inside you.”
I’m not sure if it’s those words or his fingers working me over that make me shudder and cry out again, but I feel the little burst of cum that spills helplessly from my cock as I come one more time.
I’m not sure if I faint or float, but the feel of Streeter pressing soft kisses to my throat, to my chin, my jawline, and finally my lips, forces me to slowly flutter my lids open.
Streeter’s eyes are… soft… when he looks down at me. He’s staring at me like he didn’t nearly fuck my soul right out of my body, and his hands cradling my head are tender when he slides them through my hair.
“You aren’t allowed to run off again, Remington.” I usually hate it when people use my full name, but there’s something about Streeter whispering it against my lips that makes me think it might not be so bad.
In fact, I’m pretty sure I could listen to him saying it for the rest of my life and I wouldn’t get tired of it.
“I’m sorry,” I answer, and I actually mean it. “I just… I got scared. I didn’t know what your friend was going to do, and I wanted to make sure I got far enough away that I could figure out how to see you again when he wasn’t here, and I—”
Streeter’s expression cuts me off. “You were going to find me again?”
“Of course. I just had to figure out how to do it when he wasn’t here.”
“You were going to find me again… when you thought I was going to kill you?” He still sounds… I don’t know how he sounds. His tone is almost dazed.
It makes me drop my eyes. “I know it’s only been a few days, Streeter… but I don’t want this to end just because the snow’s melting.”
I don’t look up again until he slides his fingers along my jawline and forces me to look at him. There’s an entire world in his eyes, depths I’ve never seen another person have when they looked at me.
“Hummingbird, listen. I—”
“Remi, are you in there? I found your… car.” A voice from the doorway cuts off whatever he was about to say. Quill is standing there with his eyes wide, looking over me and… “That’s not Trevor. But that’s Trevor’s car. I’m… confused.” He cocks his head. “Happy for you, but confused.”
My face is hot, and I don’t miss the way Streeter covers my naked body with his and growls on top of me.
Then, to make matters worse, someone else steps up behind Quill.
I don’t recognize the tall Black man with warm brown eyes—he has the brightest, prettiest smile I’ve ever seen when he grins at us, but his voice is the same as the one that spilled out of the phone and sent me into the snow to begin with.
“You didn’t tell me there were two witnesses, Streeter. You owe me double.”