#barista talk
—LOOSE ENDS
summary: after returning from his business trip, chrollo takes you to dinner to explain what he is and what he does, the false versions of them, that is.
wc: 7616
tags: nsfw, manipulation, drunk sex, cunnilingus, gaslighting, coffee shop, begging kink
an: ooo boy this took a fucking while to get up but not as long as i thought tbh. i know the hxh scene is a lot less prevalent than the mha one but i hope fellow chrollo fuckers understand the appeal of being manipulated with good intentions
Weeks passed. Not a day went by without you thinking of your mysterious visitor at least once, and sometimes when a customer would order an espresso you felt an odd twinge in your heart, casting a glance at the empty table where the two of you sat together. Little did you know that you’d be seeing him again far sooner than you thought.
It hadn’t even been a full month when he came back.
The door’s ringing barely caught your attention and you responded with your routine, “Welcome in, what can I—“
But there he stood in the doorway, bathed in the late rays of the setting sun, your copy of Dorian Grey in hand.
“Chrollo!” You exclaimed before the stares of the other patrons made you cough nervously, trying to keep your voice to yourself, “It’s good to see you again.”
That frail smile of his was a sight for sore eyes, “You too. Though are you sure you didn’t just miss this?” He held up your book for emphasis.
“Both,” he almost looked amused by your honesty, “I thought you said you’d be gone for a month?”
Chrollo picked his words carefully, “My business trip finished up early, so I thought I’d return a bit sooner rather than later. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” you grinned, way too delighted just by hearing the sound of his voice again. Your coworkers had teased you relentlessly for it, but their annoyance was justified. You’re sure it must’ve been hell on them to keep repeating orders and questions for you at work only for two weeks straight only for you to not hear them, busily caught up in thinking if your mysterious customer would come in that day. It seems luck must’ve been on your side for once.
“Tell me, what time does your shift end?”
Deftly untying your apron, you shoved it underneath the counter, thankful that he’d come in just as your shift was getting off, “You’re in luck, I’m actually just about to clock out.”
Before you could walk over to the booth you’d sat at before, his words stopped you.
“In that case would you like to get dinner?” You froze mid-step, the implications of his request both exciting and terrifying. You must’ve looked like a deer in headlights to him, all wide-eyed and disbelieving.
“Now?”
“When else?”
“But I just got off work, and…” suddenly each bit of grime and sweat that’d built up throughout the day felt worse, especially compared to Chrollo. He seemed to be carved from marble, not a hair out of place or wrinkle present in his dark button-down.
He scoffed, “If that’s the only thing stopping you, then I assure you there’s nothing to worry about.”
Internally you were screaming. The idea that he’d ask you out now of all times was nerve-wracking, but you couldn’t say no to those pleading eyes of his.
“Only if it’s not anywhere fancy,” you mumbled.
He smiled, though something seemed pained in his glance, “I assure you, It’s nothing too extravagant.”
Chrollo offered you his hand, taking yours in his before you could change your mind, and suddenly you were reminded of the night he’d left and your knuckles hummed with warmth at the thought of his lips on them again.
“Shall we?”
As soon as he pulled into the valet parking you were almost fuming.
“You promised nothing too fancy, Chrollo! I’ll stick out like a sore thumb in here,” the idea of all those eyes on you had your stomach turning.
You couldn’t help but jump when his hand found its place on your jeans, lightly brushing his thumb over the denim, and suddenly you couldn’t think of anything but him.
“I already made the reservations before I asked you here tonight,” your mouth parted in shock, was he really that confident in himself?
A few stuttered noises escaped you before you could manage to speak, “What if I didn’t say yes?”
He smirked, shrugging his shoulders, “I guess we’ll never know.”
With that the car came to a stop in front of the entrance and when his hand left your thigh you couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. Chrollo quickly handed a few notes to the valet driver before walking beside you, his arm extended.
You couldn’t help but laugh a bit in disbelief at the sheer grandiosity of the past hour, but something still lingered; A nagging doubt that kept you on your toes. Just who was Chrollo? What kind of job would make him leave for months on end and come back with what looked like a fortune? Staring into his unreadable eyes betrayed nothing and a distant quote scratched at the back of your head as you hesitantly linked your arm with his.
“He is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma,”
The polished glass doors parted before you to reveal a middle-aged receptionist hidden behind a small table, a stack of menus at his side. The floors were a rich red fabric that made you paranoid about leaving any dirt behind from the worn soles of your boots, and the walls were fitted with an old-fashioned wallpaper, accented with stone pillars at each corner.
“Reservation for two? It’s under Lucilfer.” That got your attention. Sure, Chrollo wasn’t a common name but Lucilfer? Did he just happen to have surname modeled after the biblical devil or did he pick it himself for some reason? Either way it somehow fit him perfectly, and within no time the receptionist spotted his name on his guest list, bowing slightly before asking you to follow him.
The receptionist led you two through an archway into what must’ve been the most lavish restaurant you’d ever seen in your life. It was horrifying. Everyone else you saw was draped in pearls and flattering dresses, suits embroidered with designer labels meanwhile all you had on was a black sweater and jeans. Their judgmental eyes followed your every step, your grip on Chrollo’s arm growing tighter as you tried to make it to your table without tripping.
He fixed his gaze on you, perceptive to a fault, “Don’t be afraid, love, they’re not worth the thought,”
Your pulse was pounding in your ears as he whispered; you were surprised that Chrollo couldn’t hear it given how close he hovered to your neck. You tried in vain to follow his advice but how could you concentrate on anything when he said things like that?
After what felt like hours your waiter finally showed you to your table, a two seated set perched beside a looming, iron-gilded window.
You were sure to pull out your chair yourself before Chrollo could get a chance to; it seemed like the type of princely thing he’d pull to make you a stuttering mess. You were starting to wonder if he was some kind of sadist.
As the receptionist scurried off there was nothing to distract you from the man across the table, the snide glares of the other patrons rolling off you like water.
“Not so bad I hope?”
You shook your head, taking in the surroundings along with a few deep breaths, “No, It’s just… overwhelming,”
“I see. I guess it is a bit much,” Chrollo hummed in understanding, handing you one of the glossy menus and subtly gesturing to the other tables, “unfortunately I meet people like them more often than not in my line of work.”
Finally he’d brought up what you’d been itching to ask him, “What is it you do exactly? I mean, do you go on business trips like that a lot?”
His gaze turned sharp and oddly still before reaching into his suit pocket and revealing what looked like a small credit card. Tentatively, you took it from his outstretched hand. Only when you saw the red diamond and two black Xs adorning the ID did you know what you were holding.
Your eyes shot open, looking from him to the card and back again.
“You’re a hunter?” You gaped, brain having difficulties tying the hunter association’s elite ranks of fighters with the soft-spoken young man who reads Oscar Wilde in run-down coffee shops.
He nodded, his posture relaxing, “I’m an Antiques Hunter, so I usually don’t stay in one city too long before I have to leave,”
You were slowly wrapping your head around the news when you realized that you were basically holding the equivalent of six billion jenny. The shock made you shove the card back into his hands, stunned into silence. You might’ve guessed that Chrollo had a strange job, but this was something else.
But then why did it feel like you were missing something?
“Well, are you going to keep interrogating me, or would you like to have dinner first?” You snorted, thankful for him at least trying to lighten the mood.
You instinctively flinched at the price tags beside each dish, having to remind yourself that money was never an issue for a hunter, if Chrollo’s lascivious taste said anything else. After a bit of debate you picked out the most recognizable and pronounceable meal you could find, while your partner ordered a rare steak with some foreign red wine.
“So when will you have to leave again for your next…” you struggled to find the right words, “hunting trip?”
“Two weeks or so. I’ll be flying to the Lurka ruins for an excavation,” he handed off your menus to the waiter and within moments someone had arrived with an unopened bottle of wine. Popping the cork, your glasses were filled halfway, and with a weird hand gesture Chrollo had the waiter leaving behind the bottle.
“What will you do for the next two weeks?” He seemed thankful you didn’t press him on his work, it must have to be secretive if he’s a hunter.
His gaze flickered over to yours as he raised the glass to his lips, never breaking eye contact, “That depends on you. This trip will be a longer one, I’m afraid, and I may not see you again for a while.”
You bit the inside of your cheek at that, bringing up your own glass and knocking back a deep drink, downing nearly half the goblet. When you set it back down on the table and wiped the plum liquor from your lips against the back of your hand you didn’t expect to see an amusedly scandaled Chrollo, whose eyes were raised at theshotyou took of wine.
“…I’m not supposed to do that, am I?” He laughed, honest-to-god laughedat that, and the sound was beautiful just like him. Breathy but deep, more stunned than anything as you flushed red in embarrassment.
“—I love it when you laugh, Chrollo,” You grinned, resting your head on your hand and taking in how he looked with a toothy grin, knowing it might not come out again.
His laugh was abruptly cut short, your notion so sincere it unnerved him.
“I don’t find myself able to often,” he mused, almost to himself, before looking up at you with a vulnerable softness to his eyes, “but perhaps I should.”
All at once the tone of the air shifted, what warmth laid in those grey pools drained of color and Chrollo went completely rigid. You were confused. Did you say something wrong? Suddenly he flicked his gaze to yours, mouth in a straight line, giving nothing away. It was starting to scare you.
“Chrollo?”
A voice echoed from above you, “Well, what a surprise. I finally found you, spider.”
Standing beside the tablecloth was an older, burly man with rough skin and twitching fingers stood even taller than Chrollo, a burning hatred in his eyes.
The shadows of your date’s face fell darkly as he met the man’s stare.
“Do I know you?” His voice sounded wrong, different somehow. Like he was an actor from a stage show, brimming with falsity under the fluorescent lights
When the man slammed a heavy fist down on the table, nearly shattering the pressed wood in two, you couldn’t’ve stoped the shrill squeak from escaping if you tried, muffled by your hand cupped tightly over your mouth
“You know damn well who I am.” All conversation in the restaurant died instantly. The eyes of frightened socialites widened at the loud bang. Your breathing was shaky but you couldn’t take your eyes off Chrollo, desperate for a sign, a hint that everything was going to be okay.
Slowly, your date rose to his feet and even if he was shorter and far less bulky than whoever kept harassing him he didn’t look at all concerned.
Standing below him, Chrollo finally spoke up, “We can take this elsewhere.”
“Fine by me. I wouldn’t want to kill anyone but you.”
Tears were caught in your eyelashes, voice shaking as you asked, “Chrollo, what—“
“Stay here,” he spared you one last glance, “I’ll be back soon.”
The man scoffed, fixing his beady eyes on you for the first and last time that night, sneering, but before he could do or say anything, Chrollo had silenced him with a simple glare. Thankfully whoever he was, he didn’t seem to care much about you. The two of them left, Chrollo willingly following the man’s lead and not looking back. Nobody stopped them or even said a word as they vacated the building. All at once, the volume increased. Dramatic murmurs and phone calls making your head ache, the other patrons eager to gossip about whatever had happened at your table.
You slumped into the chair, hugging your arms to yourself to try and feel safe again. Immediately a waitress came over, a younger one with worry written all over her face.
“Miss, are you alright?” She outstretched her hand and you took it gratefully, thankful to have an anchor even if it was with a stranger.
As the moments dragged on you made best friends with the abandoned bottle of wine, which had somehow escaped unscathed. Drinking might not’ve been the best solution to your problems but it was what you needed. Your breathing went steady as you poured yourself another glass, trying to think of anything other than who used to be sitting in the empty chair across from you.
Was he alright? Was he hurt? God, you felt so powerless just sitting there, you couldn’t leave or call for help without going against Chrollo’s wishes but how much could you really trust his assurances? The image of your… lover? Date? The image of Chrollo slumped against some alleyway with whatever horrible injuries your brain could come up with riddled through his designer suit sent you reaching for the neck of the wine bottle once again.
Your silence wasn’t going to go on for much longer because only fifteen minutes or so after he’d left, Chrollo walked through the door. The relief caught you by surprise, wrecking your energy as he returned to the table, unfazed as if nothing ever happened.
“I’m truly sorry for all of this, Darling. I owe you an explanation,” he said your name so despondently and you were having none of it.
You shook your head, inadvertently making your vision spin from the drinks, “No, just.. what happened? Are you alright?”
He scoffed at your concern, letting you cling to his hand for reassurance, pulse steady compared to your erratic heart, “Yes, don’t worry, all I did was restrain him for the police, but we should probably get going.” You nodded, thankful for the idea of talking with him alone instead of among a crowd. You noticed that he seemed as healthy as he’d left, slightly putting your mind at ease as he scribbled down a check in messy penmanship.
Taking your arm as you stood from the chair, he rest his hand around your waist as he led you through the doorway, the distant sounds of York New’s night life a familiar comfort to your drunken mind. The car was already pulled up when he opened the passenger’s seat, you crawled in with your legs tucked awkwardly against the seat, too confused and tipsy to care about manners.
Soon the restaurant was in your rear-view mirror and you turned to look at your driver.
“Talk.”
He never took his eyes off the road while he spoke, “Hunters acquire enemies through their work. That man was a client that felt I didn’t do a good enough job on an assignment a few months ago. He must’ve thought that being stronger would help him in a fight, I suppose.”
You climbed up into the seat as best you could, clutching your head with a wince, Chrollo immediately asking, “Are you drunk?”
You couldn’t hold his gaze after that question, basically confirming his suspicions.
“I’m a nervous drinker,” you pouted, and without thinking you reached a hand over along the forearm of his sleeve, undeniably needy for physical contact, “and you scared me, Chrollo.”
As you came to an intersection he finally met your sight, taking in the flushed mess that you wore so beautifully, eyes glossy with unshed tears. It was all he could do to not reach over and pull you to him, but he knew he couldn’t. Not now at least.
“Where do you live?” Holding the bridge of your nose, you recited the address perfectly but still overthought about whether or not it was right.
“That’s… quite far. How is it you live half an hour away from the city?” You were far too drunk to answer the question you’d been asking yourself even since the bullet train was installed by your apartment, simply mumbling a string of nonsense as you held on to him for stability.
He took your hand away from him, setting it back on your thigh, but he didn’t pull away. The drunken blush spread to your nose at the heat, “I need to ask you something,” he tightened his grip, calling your name to get your attention. The action sent a rush of warmth through your body and settled in your stomach, making you almost rub your thighs together to relieve the pressure.
“Hmm?”
“My hotel is five minutes away. If you would feel comfortable with it, you can stay the night with me.” It was honestly a miracle that he had no bad intentions, because if he had you would’ve been easy pickings with how easily you nodded yes.
You almost caught a smile on his pale lips after you agreed, and soon enough you were pulling into his hotel, Chrollo kind enough to help you to your feet and guide you forward after handing some uniformed staff member a wad of credits that seemed far too much for a simple valet job but who were you to tell? You suppose in hindsight substituting dinner with wine wasn’t the best idea.
The elevator’s pull upwards made you clutch onto his chest for balance, swaying unsteadily. He ran a hand through your hair that was still messy from work, taking solace in the smell of burnt coffee.
Once the elevator came to his floor he took you before a tall door, swiping a keycard beside it before pushing open. The main room’s wall made of windows that overlooked the glowing lights of the city below, almost making you dizzy.
But you couldn’t enjoy the sight as Chrollo was leading you towards his bedroom. The insinuation made you think back to his grip on your thigh, feeling you through the denim. An ache between your legs was getting too hard to ignore, especially when he guided you to lie down on the bed.
You groaned childishly, clutching around his neck to keep him from pulling away, too comfortable in the blanket of his arms.
He said your name sternly, “Let go,” with a strength far from your own he took your hands away and kept them at your sides.
Chrollo left you on the mattress as he kneeled down to unlace your boots, pulling them off your feet and keeping them beside the bed. You, on your elbows, looked down at him, the intoxication making you flush from the sight of your date between your legs.
Once he removed your other shoe he caught your gaze, pausing once he came to that same conclusion. In the dim light of the master bedroom you could’ve seen the faintest rush of color beneath his pale skin.
He instantly tried to stand and move from that spot but without thinking you hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
“Stay, Chrollo,” conflict waged in his eyes, debating with himself whether or not he would follow your lead.
The hunter shook his head, “You’re drunk—“
“—You’rebeautiful,” he was stunned into silence. His stare finally flicking down to the bare skin visible beneath your tousled sweater.
He opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped when you brought him closer towards you until you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin.
Chrollo squeezed his eyes shut, muttering a gravelly curse under his breath before finally moving up from your legs. In an instant he was on you, his lips cool against yours as his hands grasped at your bunched up shirt, yanking it above your head and throwing it elsewhere, fingers deftly unlatching your bra, never breaking his bruising kiss while pinching the soft flesh of your tits.
Chrollo was greedy, forcing your body to bend in any way he wished. He kissed down your neck, sucking on the skin until you dug your hands into his hair, moaning at the tingly sensation.
“I wanted to wait,” he muttered the words into your neck and you yelped from his teeth biting down, “But you couldn’t, could you? So desperate,”
“Don’t tease me, Chrollo,” you pleaded, rolling against his cock, slick pooling in your jeans.
He grabbed your waist, halting your motions and glowering up at you, “Are you that needy for me?”
You nodded, unashamed, “Need you in me, Chrollo—”
You cried out when he pinched one of your tits and rolled the blush between his fingers, drawing as many breathy gasps as he could before his kisses travelled across your collarbone. He locked eyes with yours as he wrapped his tongue around the pebbled skin, watching closely for whatever reaction you’d grant him.
“Not yet,” as his teeth bit into the sensitive bud you yanked on his hair hard, arching into his mouth while his hands stayed busy. One fell to your jeans, working off the metal buttons. You only realized what he was doing when the sound of your zipper cut through the air.
“I still need to have you for myself first,” soon you in nothing but black lace panties as you rutted against him in any way you could, absolutely shameless from the drinks.
His mouth parted as he took in your form, chest heaving and body trembling beneath him. It felt good, it felt right.
“And I’ve been dying to taste you.” Your undergarments must’ve been ruined by now, the deep tremor in his voice turning your legs to jelly. Your vision was still uneven from the drinks earlier, but if anything it only helped to heighten the otherworldly feeling Chrollo seemed so adept at drawing you towards.
Chrollo’s lips fell down to your stomach, kissing down until they met the soft lace. His eyes never leaving yours, his teeth pulled your panties below your thighs and you bent your legs up so he could slide them away. It was intoxicating, the steady heat in his eyes blazing as every slow movement looked like living sin.
Before you could close them, he gripped each of your calves and spread your legs wide, ignoring how the stretch made you yelp. It was almost unnerving to see the stoic man come undone, his breathing heavy and sweat beading underneath his bandaged forehead.
Why onearthwas he still wearing that thing?
“God, Chrollo,” his lips quirked into a smile as he ran a stipe down your folds, groaning at the sweet taste that seemingly invaded each of his senses. How could he have ever denied himself this?
He bent his tongue inside you and the noises it wrought were far from decent but you were careful to not let yourself get distracted. As your hands carded into the soft strands, you felt the ridge of bandages tucked around his head. Cautiously, you tugged him upwards, friction heavenly against your clit, before calling his name seriously to get his attention.
The sight of his chin shiny with your slick was something you’d never forget, but you couldn’t let your mind wander too long, whispering, “Can I take it off?”
He felt you toy with the edge of the bindings and seemingly contemplated the thought for a beating second before nodding silently.
Trying to not let your elation show too easily, you didn’t spare any time trying to undo his knot, simply pulling it up until the cloth slipped away. The lights were dim, but through it you could see more and more of what he was hiding as the bandage slipped between your fingers.
A crescent cross tattoo sat on his forehead, sending your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. You were fully expecting a disfiguring scar or injury, but certainly not a tattoo. You’re almost thankful you were drunk for this discovery; If you were sober you might’ve ruined the mood with all your prattling questions
He didn’t spare you any time to think, diving back into the nectar between your thighs. Your thumb rubbed over the exposed ink of his face as he tugged his tongue onto your clit. Faintly you began to notice the budding heat in your stomach, the coil tightening each time Chrollo wound you up.
“Fuck, I’m… I’m close, Chrollo, don’t stop—“ your thighs spasmed at the angle he held them and you knew you’d be incredibly sore tomorrow, though that goes without saying.
You tried to pull him closer despite or maybe because of that stinging pain, heaving out breaths of air as he ate you like a man starved. His tongue arched inside of you, a whorish moan escaping your lips as his elbow supported your thigh, a hand far wider than yours pressing into your stomach as his fingers rubbed quick circles onto your clit.
You didn’t last long, coming undone with a blinding hot flash of pleasure snapping inside your gut, a shout of his name music to his ears as his tongue arched around your clit. Your tendons were still aching even as he let his hold on your legs go, alcohol still coursing through your veins dulling any pain fast as you turned to your side, curling into the pillow and panting with exertion.
Eyes closed as you tried to catch your breath, you missed the way Chrollo stared at you. A foreign warmth to his lifeless eyes, burning with unanswered questions. He was painfully hard, straining against the fabric of his suit. A part of him he’d never fed before wanted to tear his bindings off and take you feral and fast until he’d finally find release in your velveteen body. He’d fuck you like he’d been fantasizing these past two weeks until you were begging for him to cum inside of you.
But as he crawled up your naked body he noticed how oddly calm your breathing had become. Flicking up to your face, he stared incredulously as you burrowed into the plush of the pillow, softly snoring with a satisfied smile on your face.
He almost laughed, but it might’ve woken you, and that was the last thing he wanted. Chrollo soothed his fingers over your sweaty skin, still smelling like coffee but much more now like sex. As softly as he could, he pulled the scattered covers over your bare body and you instantly cozied into the blankets.
The sight sent a horrifying warmth through his chest, and he left before he did anything reckless.
The air of the hallway felt cold compared to his bedroom, but Chrollo had to get a hold of himself. He’d take her home in the morning and that’d be the end of it, for now at least, but he still had something to take care of.
Palming himself through the material of his pants made a soft groan ripple through his chest as he leaned against the door, thinking of the delicious taste of your pussy, how soft your cries were for him. He’d been with women before, either for information or as a way to steal their nen, but the honest plea in your eyes when you asked to see his tattoo and the feeling of you running your fingertips over the ink as he devoured you was something new. Something intimate and dangerous.
He was the leader of the Phantom Troupe. That was all he truly knew for certain. It was the one facet of his identity he’d held onto for all these years, and nothing could ever drive him to abandon it. He couldn’t let himself become addicted to the vulnerable girl that slept soundly in his bed. You were only a bad habit, something he needed to quit, but Chrollo couldn’t help himself when he saw the needy tremble in your grasp. Was it your naivety that drew him to you? Your kindness? Or had he brought her into this mess of his own free will entirely, if he had such a thing left? He wasn’t sure, and the uncertainty didn’t sit unpleasantly with him at all. It only made him want you more.
And above all else, he was a thief. If he wanted something, he’d takeit.
His erection waned as he focused on whatever awful thoughts he could come up with to take his mind off the naked woman in his bed and the wet, sweet apex of her thighs. The death of his spiders, flies on corpses, the stench of a battlefield after a fight, anything to keep him sane.
Eventually it worked, and he felt composed enough to walk into the living room, pouring himself a rather tall glass of bourbon as he dialed a number into the burner phone he kept on hand.
Not a second ring had past before the cheerful voice on the other end came to his ear.
“Hey, boss, what do you need?” Shalnark, loyal to a fault, didn’t spare any pretenses before offering his services.
“I had to leave a corpse behind tonight, someone with a grudge against us interrupted my dinner and I left him in the alley behind Earlson’s, would you dispose of it for me?” As he took a sip the harsh amber taste of whiskey burned down his throat, the pain felt grounding and thick.
The manipulator hummed happily, “Sure thing, I’ll get going—”
“Oh, and Shalnark?” He held up the hunter’s license he’d brought with him into the moonlight, “Your license paid off well in my mission, thank you for lending it to me. I’ll get it back to you soon enough.”
“Not a problem, I was worried that you’d have a problem since it’s not registered to you,”
Chrollo spared a glance down the hall before tucking the card back into his pocket, “All that mattered was that I had one with me. It was invaluable.”
“Glad to hear it, boss, I’ll go clear the evidence.” With that the line disconnected, and Chrollo tossed the device into the garbage along with the others.
His night with you had almost been ruined by that vengeful idiot. If he’d given you any more hints as to who he really was, he would’ve lost you. And as much as it pained him to admit it, he would probably have to kill you if you ever learned the truth.
Chrollo traced his skin through the fabric of his shirt, the no.0 tattoo imbedded into his forearm surrounded by black, jagged limbs. He’d given every single spider their tattoo himself, not excluding his own, and while he swore by the brands, they were a dead give-away. He never thought that the marking would come back to haunt him in this way, but here he was.
If he were to spend another vulnerable night with you he’d have to keep his spider’s brand bound under bandages like his cross and refuse to reveal it, leaving no chance for you to recognize what it meant.
He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.
