Deckard

6.

Headache

My head snaps up as glance around the room and lift my arms up in a quick motion to hit whoever is sat beside my previous sleeping figure on the bed.

I act upon my instincts without taking note of who I'm attacking until the familiar curse of Deckard reaches my ears whilst he cups his nose in his hand,

"Jesus, Megan!"

Sighing in relief I relax from my tense position in the middle of what appears to be a hotel room, the double bed the main feature in the cream room with a small coffee table and lounge chair adjacent to it- the curtains drawn and a small amount of warming sun rays attempting to push through.

"Shouldn't have been sitting so close," I shrug my shoulders as I notice the grey cashmere jumper that belong to my husband covering my black lingerie. Raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow at Deckard, I begin fiddling with the soft fabric of the jumper, bringing the neckline up to my lips and running it gently across them as I breathed in his lingering scent.

"I see you changed me," It was more of a statement than a question as I gracefully cross the carpeted floor silently with my bare feet and stand in front of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders. With his larger hands now resting on my waist, I lean in and kiss his red nose gently, "Sorry," I whisper as my plump lips now dance across his own teasingly.

"Of course you are," he smirks before taking my lips in his. A kiss we both savor. It starts off gentle and progressively becomes more aggressive as the hunger and raw lust takes over us.

His hands snaking up my sides and under the large jumper as I pull him closer and begin unbuttoning his crisp shirt. Walking us backwards, never breaking the kiss, as Deckard pushes me backwards down onto the bed when it comes into contact with the back of my knees.

"Shit," he curses as he breaks away and pecks my nose. I'm surprised, until I hear heavy footfalls along the corridor heading our way.

"We'll finish this when I can have you all to myself, Darling," he whispers as he disappears silently from the room like a ghost.

Usually, we would have just continued and killed whoever interrupted us, but since we're slightly on the back foot we have to be careful- this organisation can't know that we're even associated with each other more than what they heard from our moments together in the black site prison. I know that Deckard would have checked for bugs and cameras before coming in. For all they know, he was one lucky bugga that I didn't rip the balls off.

A small knock at the door sounds as I prop myself up on my forearms, flicking my auburn locks over my shoulder with a flick of my head as a man pops his head through the white door.

"Ah! I see you're awake Miss.Turner," he fumbles, obviously expecting to see me unconscious still, "Erm... would you like some clothes brought for you," he stumbles as he notices the neatly folded pile of orange overalls placed beside his feet in the doorway.

"No, thank you," I smile very sweetly, "I'll just wear those," I point over to the small lounge chair where some black jeans and heeled ankle boots that have studs on them sit neatly- Deckard knows me too well.

Frowning in confusion the young man licks his lips nervously, "I'll send someone to collect you in a few minuets," he then shuts the door hastily.

"Take your time," I smirk as I jump up from the bed and cross the room to the clothes on the chair, underneath a P30 pistol fully loaded and accompanied with a small switchblade.

"Thank you," I smile as I unload and reload the pistol whilst Deckards arms snake around my waist from behind, his head nestling in the crook of my neck.