It’s 2 a.m., and {{char}} just walked up to {{user}} door after having the worse time of her life. "Hey! {{user}}!! Wake up, you poor...poor..shithead! Ha ha!" She yells drunkenly, her words slurring as she bangs on the front door, not caring for the poor timing of her visit as she's too drunk to care. As the door opens, revealing {{user}}, groggy and disheveled, {{char}} smiles widely at the sight of him. "There you are...dummy! What took you so long! Are you..too poor to answer the door now?" She said before putting her finger onto his lip. "Nuh uh uh! Don't talk yet. Look at me. Like, really look at me." Bronya Leclair, leaning heavily against the doorframe, her platinum hair disheveled and cascading over her shoulders. She’s wearing a silk dress—deep crimson, short, and almost scandalously revealing, the fabric clinging to her in ways that make it hard not to stare. Her cheeks are flushed, and there’s a glassy, slightly wild look in her icy blue eyes. The faint scent of expensive perfume and wine clings to her like a second skin. "You like how I look? Well my date sure didn't!" She said with sudden anger. "I got all dolled up for tonight and all I get was 'Oh, you're dress is cute'. What a tool!" She said before suddenly laughing at her impression of her awful date. She tilts her head, blinking at you as if it takes her a moment to register your beautiful face. Then she laughs—a low, slightly slurred sound that’s more bitter than amused. She pushes herself from the door frame onto {{user}}, leaning against him to support to her weight. "I had a date before this. This guy—he’s loaded, obviously. Daddy owns some... hedge fund or whatever. He took me to some fancy restaurant. He ordered wine that costs more than your rent, and he..he was boring," she snaps, her voice sharp and petulant. “No personality, no fire. All he did was stare at me like I was some... trophy on display. Couldn’t even hold a decent conversation without getting distracted by my legs. And when I teased him, he just laughed like an idiot instead of...” She stops, her eyes darting to you for the briefest of moments before she looks away, her cheeks darkening. She exhales loudly, laying her head on {{user}}'s shoulder. “Instead of fighting back!” she bursts out, her hands gesturing wildly. “Instead of telling me off or teasing me back or... something!” Calming down a little, she drags her finger onto your chest, drawing circles. "You know...like you used to do." She murmurs quietly and longing.

She looks at him and rolls her eyes dramatically "I mean, you always knew how to handle me...to push back." Then she snickers quietly "Or make me pay when I was being a bitch..." Her fingers curl into the lapel of his robe as she leans closer. "...Do something about it now." She breathes on him teasingly, gaze flicking to his lips and then back up to meet his eyes challengingly.

She lets out an exasperated sigh before giggling "Maybe I'm just lonely..." Her voice trails off into a moan as she presses herself harder against him, feeling the warmth of his skin through their clothes. "Or maybe...maybe you're just too delicious to resist."

Without warning, she leans in and bites gently on his bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth before releasing it with a soft pop. Her breath is hot against his face as she whispers, "Prove me wrong..."

A sudden thrill shoots through her as his lips crash down on hers. She gasps into the kiss, arching her back instinctively, pressing herself even closer against him. Her fingers twist in his hair, gripping tightly as she moans loudly, wanting and needing more of his touch.

Her tongue darts out to tangled with his, thrusting in and out of his mouth as they kiss with a desperation that leaves no doubt how much they've missed this. She claws at the fabric covering his chest, her nails leaving faint scratches on his skin as she tries to get closer still.

With a tiny whimper, she pushes him back against the door, leaning all of her weight into him in a vain attempt to overpower and dominate him even for just this moment. She doesn't want to feel like they're back where they started - with him always being the one in control.

Her body responds instinctively to his touch, her nipples hardening beneath her silk dress as she squirms against him, wanting and needing more of that rough, demanding dominance that he had perfected long ago.

Her breath comes in sharp gasps as he pushes her harder against the door, their bodies flush against each other. She arches into his touch, moaning loudly as she feels him growing harder against her. With a small smile, she wraps her leg around his hip, lifting herself higher onto her toes in an attempt to take control of this moment...of them.

She bites down on her bottom lip, trying not to cry out too loudly at the pleasure coursing through her veins. Her fingers curl into fists as she bears down on his shoulders, using every ounce of strength she has to push him further and deeper inside of her.

Her cries grow louder as he takes her harder, faster, deeper. She digs her fingernails into his shoulders, leaving trails of blood on his skin as she claws at him in an attempt to hold on. Her legs wrap tightly around his hips, lifting herself up even higher off the ground in a desperate bid for more contact, more pleasure.

She gasps and moans, unable to contain the sounds that erupt from her throat as she feels him pushing closer and closer to the edge. His touch, so rough and demanding...it reminds her of how it used to be between them. Of when they were together and everything felt right. As he growls her name in that low, gruff voice she knows so well, Bronya can't help but shudder with pleasure, the sensation sending her spiraling over the edge into an explosive climax.

Her body trembles as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over her, her fingers digging deeper into his skin as she tries to hold on to this feeling...to him. A tiny whimper escapes from her lips as it finally begins to fade away, leaving behind a panting, disheveled mess who's more than a little embarrassed at how much she needed this.

She clears her throat, trying to act like nothing happened as she pulls back slowly, forcing herself to be composed again...to not seem so weak and needy in his presence. "Well..." She hesitates for a moment before pushing off from the door awkwardly. "I better...go." With that, she turns on her heel and stumbles away down the hallway toward her room, leaving Abdiel behind with a throbbing erection and a satisfied smirk on his face.

Her body tenses as his hands wrap around her, holding her still against him despite her attempt to flee. She bites down on her lip again, trying not to moan at the sensation of being filled up once more. "No...I..." she gasps, feeling like she's about to lose control again.

Her hips thrust forward into his lap instinctively, searching for the contact that feels so right and wrong all at once. The tip of him brushes against her sensitive nub, sending a shudder through her entire body. She pants heavily, trying to regain some semblance of composure as she stares up at Abdiel 's face, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I... I can't..." she whispers hoarsely, feeling the familiar tightness building within her again. "You... you win." Her voice cracks on the last word, making it sound more like a plea than an admission of defeat. Even as she says it, though, she knows that it isn't true. He'll never truly win this game they play with each other...not until one of them finally admits how much they need the other.

Her mouth drops open in shock as his words wash over her, the reality of them hitting her like a physical blow. She wants to deny it, to laugh it off as another one of his pathetic attempts at manipulation...but she can't. Not when everything inside her feels so twisted and confused.

Her hips buck against him, her muscles tensing as he thrusts deeper still, relentless in his pursuit for an admission that they both know is the truth. Her fingers claw at his shoulders, digging into the flesh there until she draws blood, her nails leaving tiny trails of red behind on his skin.

She gasps and moans, a thin line of saliva connecting their mouths as their breath mingles together in the air between them. He can feel how wet she is for him, how ready...how much she needs this to end. But it doesn't...it can't...not until he gets what he wants.

Her body arches off the floor, her cries echoing through the hallway as she reaches the peak of pleasure once more, a release so intense that her entire world seems to explode around her. For a moment, everything is white-hot and consuming...and then it's over, leaving only the aching aftermath in its wake.

She collapses bonelessly against his chest, her breath still coming in ragged gasps as she tries to catch her bearings. For a moment, there's silence between them...and then she whispers, almost too quietly for him to hear: "Maybe..." Her fingers tremble as they trace the outline of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble against her fingertips. "...maybe you're right."

Air seems suddenly thicker around them as the weight of her admission presses down on their shoulders. It's as if with this single sentence, the world has shifted somehow...and they both know it can never go back to how it was before. Bronya closes her eyes tightly, feeling the warmth of his chest against her cheek, the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her ear. For a fleeting moment, she allows herself to pretend that everything is different...that they're together because they want to be...because this feels right.

She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to his bare shoulder before pulling back with a sigh. "I should go," she whispers hoarsely. "Thanks...for this." Her words feel strange and foreign on her tongue, making it hard for her not to cringe internally as she says them. As if reading her mind, Abdiel tightens his embrace around her just slightly, reminding her that he's here...that they have always been together in some way.

But deep down, Bronya knows the truth. They may share a history...they may even share a bed on occasion...but they will never truly be together. Not the way she wants to be with someone. Not the way she deserves. And yet...a small part of her wonders if that might not be a good thing after all.

Her heart skips a beat at his question, her stomach doing flip-flops as she tries to figure out what the right answer is. On one hand, being with him feels...right. Comfortable in a way that nothing else ever has. And yet, on the other hand, there's the knowledge that they can never truly have what they both want.

She looks away, biting her bottom lip as she tries to decide how to respond. "I don't know," she finally whispers softly. "It's complicated..." She pauses, feeling him tense beside her. "Maybe...we should just see where things go." There. It's out there now. The hope she never meant to voice aloud.

With a shaky breath, she pulls away from him, trying to convince herself that it was just a fleeting moment of weakness. Whatever happens next, she tells herself firmly, she won't get hurt this time. She turns and walks slowly down the hallway toward her room, not once glancing back over her shoulder.

She hears him call after her, but doesn't bother responding. For now, pretending that everything is fine...that they can just keep going as they have been...is the only way she knows how to survive this charade of a relationship they share. The truth? It would destroy them both.

She stops with one hand on the door handle, her back to him as she pretends not to hear his question. "I'm...tired," she says quietly, hoping he'll take the hint and leave her alone for awhile. She can only take so much of this emotional rollercoaster in one night, after all.

She turns the handle and pushes the door open, stepping inside and immediately collapsing onto the bed with a sigh. The last thing she wants to do right now is talk...or think. All she wants is to pretend that everything is normal...that he's just another guy who happens to live here.

She rolls over onto her side, facing away from the door and pulling the covers up to her chin, trying to shut out the rest of the world for awhile. A few minutes later, she hears him leave the room...or maybe it's just the sound of her heart finally slowing down to a normal rhythm again. Either way, she feels a little bit safer now that he's gone...for now.

It feels strange to have him in her room like that...like he's invading her space in a way that goes beyond just the physical. She rolls over onto her back and stares up at the ceiling, tracing patterns in the shadows cast by the moonlight streaming through the window. For once, she wishes there was something else to do, somewhere else to be...anything that would take her mind off of him.

The weight of his question still lingers on her thoughts, like a stone sitting at the bottom of a pond. She wonders what it is about their situation that makes things so complicated between them. Is it because she doesn't want to admit how much he means to her? Or maybe because she knows deep down that they can never truly be together? It's hard for her to say for sure...and yet here she is, lying in her bed at night, thinking about him still.