Breaking In

HI! This is my first submission; the idea came to me late one night. PLEASE PLEASE give me feedback in comments, I'd love to hear it! It's a little long (I think) but I promise it gets there!

XxX SunStarMoonGirl

**__________________**

She broke into his apartment long after he went to bed. He considered it breaking in, even if she did use the spare key he pointed out to her months ago. After all, if she had bothered knocking he wouldn't have let her in. But instead, she used the key, hidden cleverly beneath a loose floorboard on the stairs.

She didn't enter like she was welcomed, her bare feet padding softly with her shoes in one hand and the key clenched tightly in her other fist. Even though she swayed between each carefully placed step and her vision danced, she knew not to make a noise. Her caution was the result of fear and knowledge. She knew him well enough by now to know he would be asleep. She feared what would happen when he woke.

Not a single light lit the way as she crept across the living room and leaned softly against the bedroom door that had been left ajar. Her nature was inclined to night and darkness, her eyes adjusting quickly to the dim.

He was sleeping fitfully, twitching and muttering to himself, the blankets flung out across his thick frame. Setting her shoes on the floor, she stood at the foot of the bed and watched him. They were such opposites. The apocalypse couldn't wake her when she out for the night, but she knew one wrong step and his eyes would snap open, his body jerk upright and his hands reaching out for her. To embrace her or throttle her, she didn't know.

But there was enough alcohol still in her blood to embolden her. She fell forwards, her hands sinking into the mattress without a sound. There was something unnatural, she once told him, about a mattress so soft you felt like you were drowning in it. Now, she was grateful for the material to mask the sound and feel of her body slowly moving towards the head of the bed. He didn't seem to notice her, not yet. Perhaps he was as drunk as she was, perhaps he wouldn't wake at all.

But he did. Her hand brushed his leg as she crawled towards him, sending a rush up his spin and jolting him awake. She sensed his consciousness growing stronger, though the darkness and the implausibility of her presence confused him. Before he could understand what she was doing, she launched herself at him, flattening her body to his.

"Kiss me," she whispered as she sought to meet his lips.

He managed to evade her long enough to gasp, "What-?" but then they found each other. And though he was angry, though she was drunk, though she had broken into his apartment, they were kissing.

There was something that tasted wild about her. She found his hands tangled in the sheets and pulled them to tangle in her hair, trying to whisper drunken sentiments against his lips again and again until his tongue invaded her mouth, silencing her. Desperate to make her intent clear, she sucked him in, welcomed him. Her fingers pulled at his shirt, lifting the fabric from his chest and then back down again, as if she wasn't sure whether she wanted to take things further or just continue as they were.

He made the decision for her, moving one arm down to circle her waist and fling her off him. She cried out as she landed beside him with a thump, the movement terrifying her and causing her stomach to jump. Reaching past her, his hand found the switch on his bedside lamp, and suddenly the muted orange light flooded the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he ground out through gritted teeth, his voice low and filled with fury.

Her mouth was open wide, but no sound came out.

"I-," she began, but then stopped.

He imagined he could see her heartbeat pulsing beneath her skin, the quickness of it as she fought the urge to flee. She always fled. This time he wouldn't let her. He reached a hand out, grasping her thin wrist and squeezing it tightly between his fingers.

It felt like a manacle. The panic in her veins increased, rushing through her and filling her head with white noise. Well, almost. There was still that string of desperate desire, the siren call coming from somewhere beneath her heart that demanded she speak with him, talk to him, finally tell him. But she couldn't, not with his hard eyes glaring at her like that.

Unbidden, tears prickled in her eyes. She closed them, turning her head away from him to face the direction of the light. Imagining the warmth of the sun bathing against her skin, taking her away.

The hand only tightened as she turned.

"Stop that," Miles demanded, sounding cold once more. "Stop crying."

She shook her head, still not looking at him.

He shifted, his body suddenly pressing down on hers as if to remind her that there was no escape. The heat of him felt so familiar, but his hold on her and the emotions in her chest were the complete opposite.

"Breanna, look at me," he whispered, his lips only inches from her ear. "Baby, stop crying. Look at me."

She should have known better, should have detected that note in his voice. There had always been something about him she didn't trust. But the siren was calling her, and it wouldn't be ignored, so she opened her eyes and met his gaze.

She looked young, and innocent, staring at him with a wet face and her mouth partially open and her breathing so labored beneath him. He had wanted to speak to her, he wanted to try for once to understand what he never could. But she was beneath him, she was soft, and she was so damn vulnerable in a way he had never seen before. He couldn't help himself.

"I need you to stop crying," he whispered again. "Do you know why?"

Mute except for the sound of her whimpers, she shook her head.

He leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear. "Because I'm going to fuck you now, Breanna, and I won't do it if you're still crying."

Her breath hitched, and he felt her body jerk against his. She bit her lip as if to block the sound of her crying. Miles placed a gentle and encouraging kiss on her cheek, before returning to the side of her face.

"That's better, Brea, that's better..."

The sound of his voice set her off again, and she couldn't help but let out a sob. He bit her ear in warning, growling, which only made her cry harder.

Stop it, he wanted to shout at her. But instead, he let his body show her his frustration. Roaming hands explored the shape of her body, finger tweaking nipples that were hard through the thin fabric of her dress. Fuck, she was still dressed up from the bar. He remembered watching her dance only hours before, her glamorous shape gleaming in the lights from the dance floor. Her hair being tossed back and forth. He had been hard then, just looking. Now he was touching.

A hand groped lower, below her breasts and her smooth stomach, until it found the edge of the dress. He grasped it carefully between his fingers, ready to move it out of his way. Even though she was still crying, she pressed herself into his grasp, telling him to continue.

"Be quiet, Brea," he ordered, biting her ear again.

He could tell she was trying. The sobs were barely more than whimpers, and her body was stilling. Miles pulled away from her long enough to gaze into her eyes once more. Silent tears were leaking down her face, but she no longer looked scared. The desperation had fully claimed her.

And so it had claimed him. He swooped down, his lips reclaiming hers. They tasted of salt from her tears, but he ignored that, pressing himself into her. Her hands went to his shirt once more, but this time they moved with surety, pulling it up and over his back. Though he didn't want to stop, he paused long enough for her to wrest it off his body and toss it onto the floor.

"Please," he thought she was gasping. "Please, please, please."

"Yes," he told her between kisses, "Of course."

His hands were tangled in her hair, holding her face against his as they kissed. But she was intent, she knew what she wanted from him, and she reached down into his pajama bottoms to seize hold of her prize.

He groaned into her mouth at the feel of her hands on him. She gripped him tightly with one hand, her thumb grazing the head of his penis as the other worked to push down his pants. He released her in order to help, kicking off the material until he was naked above her.

"I'm going to fuck you," Miles wanted to be harsh with her, to hurt her like she hurt him, but there was so much desperation in his voice he knew there was no point.

Wordlessly, she tugged one of his hands down until it reached the apex between her thighs. He sucked in a breath, feeling the bareness of her skin beneath his fingers, and the wetness soaking her thighs. She wasn't wearing panties.

"Whore," he muttered, before crushing himself to her, their hands trapped between them.

She reached for him once more, jerking her legs apart once she secured her hold on him. Understanding her need, he helped her guide him into her body.

They moaned simultaneously, her body so wet and welcoming he was certain he had found nirvana. This was why he kept coming back to her, because she felt so good, and now she was moving and he was moving inside of her and with each thrust his elation soared.

She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in closer. Her eyes were focused on his face, watching the glory in his as he thrust into, harder and harder. He moved his head down suddenly, his wet mouth latching onto her nipple through the thin material of her dress. He sucked at it as she moaned, bucking beneath him. Pleased by her response, he bit it gently at first, and then harder the louder she moaned.

"Oh god," she swore, tossing her head back and closing her eyes. "Oh god, Miles, oh-."

His fingers found her clit. She let out a shriek, not caring that his neighbors could probably hear her, or that she was bucking wildly now like an animal of some kind.

The tightness of her channel only increased, gripping him like a vice. He struggled to keep up the merciless pace, his hips slamming into her again and again as he massaged her love button. Her nails dug into his shoulder as he claimed her.

"Fuck you," he gasped, feeling his orgasm looming. "God, fuck you, you selfish-."

"Miles," she howled, "Please, don't-."

But he didn't want to hear her. Even though every nerve in his body screamed at him to keep going, he forced himself to pull all the way out of her. As she cried out for him, he felt his cock jerking in sympathy.

"Get up," he growled.

She didn't understand, only looked at him through sex-crazed eyes. Frustrated, and angry once more, he roughly flipped her over until she was lying dazed on her stomach beneath him.

"Get up," he repeated, slapping her ass through the material of her dress.

This time she obeyed, shakily getting to her hands and her knees. Miles pushed himself between her legs and entered her once more, this time from behind. He thrust, hard, and felt her body shudder in protest. One hand wrapped itself in her long, dark hair, pulling her head back. The other gripped her hip, thick fingers digging into her flesh.

As he fucked her, he listened to the sounds of her whimpers and her moans. She was almost as close as he was. He sped up his thrusts and released her hip so that he could pinch her nipple.

"I'm cumming," he told her, his words accentuated by the sharp thrusts of his hips.

She could only moan in response. That seemed to displease him, for he slapped her ass again. And then again, when she yelped and her body tightened around him.

She tried to keep up with him, wanting to reach a hand between her legs again to ensure that she would finish when he did. But there was something stopping her. The mountain was building, she felt the pressure tensing inside of her, but she couldn't cum yet.

Despairing, she pressed her face into the pillow and cried out.

"I'm cumming!" he said again, warning her.

Say it, dammit! The voice told her. Say it now, or never. Just run away again, go away and never try to tell him the truth!

She felt his cock jerk inside her, and heard him start to gasp once more, "I'm-!"

"I love you!" she wailed, her voice muffled by the pillow. "I love you, I love you, I-."

He pulled her body flush against his, an arm going around her chest. He didn't seem capable of speech, his body tensing as he orgasmed, but she couldn't stop herself.

"I love you, Miles, please, I-."

He dropped a hand to her clit, pinching it tightly between his fingers. She exploded, finding her release in an instant. Crying out, she reached back and wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting to see him, to kiss him, but trapped by his grip on her.

Finally, he dropped her and collapsed exhausted onto the mattress just beside her. His body was warm beside her, slick with sweat and heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Breanna felt his stickiness seeping out of her, staining her dress. She felt aches in her body from where he held her too tightly. But she ignored that, rolling over so she could face him. When their eyes met, it was like he was looking at her for the first time.

"I love you," she said again, and reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

He moved as if to hold her there, against him, but his arms lay useless at his sides. Instead they stared at one another, not moving, barely breathing. Eventually, he felt his eyes close on their own accord.

When he woke, she was gone. Not even the scent of her lingered, to remind him she had been there.