Chapter Text
“Shit,” Remmick whispered, voice raw. He sagged against the doorframe, shirt rumpled and streaked, suspenders half-hanging like he’d barely survived his own want. “That was…”
He trailed off, panting. Then laughed—quiet and warm. “You are gonna be the death of me, darlin’. Again.”
You didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Your chest rose and fell in broken waves, thighs twitching, pulse still fluttering in your throat like wings in a jar. You’d never done something like that before—never been seen like that. Not without shame. Not without consequence.
And then, with that half-lidded, too-pretty smile that always got you into trouble, he rasped, “Damn, sugar… if that’s what you do without lettin’ me in…”
You rolled your eyes, slow and lazy. “Don’t get smug. You still outside.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, voice dragging low and sweet. “And yet, I saw all of you. Felt every little moan like it was mine. Wouldn’t call it hospitality, but what you just gave me, sugar?” His gaze softened a touch, red eyes dimming to something deeper. “That was trust. Even if you didn’t mean it that way.”
You blinked, surprised by the shift in his tone.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For trustin’ me like that, honey. For allowin’ yourself to be vulnerable. For not hiding.”
The words settled low in your belly—tender and unexpected. But before you could reply, that damn smirk returned.
Then his gaze dropped lower.
Your heart stuttered as you realized your breasts were still bare, nipples peaked from the cool air and the leftover heat between your legs.
Remmick let out a low whistle. “Mmm. Better put those away, baby. Don’t need anybody else seein’ my pussy or my titties.”
Your breath hitched.
My pussy.
You swallowed, thighs instinctively pressing together again.
He winked, clearly catching it. “I saw that.”
You grumbled, tugging the top of your dress up quick, suddenly shy now that the fire was ebbing and you could actually feel your heartbeat again. Remmick tucked himself away too, sighing like a man who’d just climbed out of something holy.
“Sun’s almost up,” he said, glancing toward the horizon. “I gotta go.”
He blew you a kiss with two fingers, grinning like the devil you knew.
Then he stepped back off the porch into the moonlight, his boots thudding soft on the wood, and started humming low under his breath. The tune was old—older than this town, older than either of you. Something mournful, like it’d been passed down through graves and fog.
You sat there, watching him fade into the dark, your fingers still twitching like they missed him already.
When you finally got up, you closed the door.
Locked it.
Bolted it.
Just like he asked.
You cleaned yourself up slow in the wash basin, the coppery smell of blood mixing with lavender soap. The rag was warm against your thighs, soothing in a way you didn’t expect.
Your period reminded you that you were still flesh and blood. Still real. Still you.
When you climbed into bed, you expected the dreams.
For the first time since meeting him, you didn’t dream.