Hound

9

They called her the Queen of Hearts. That's he knew. She was a new color. There was the White. The Gold. The Blue. Of course, the Colorless. Now...Red.

She popped up out of nowhere. Hound had no information on her. She was a ghost and he was at a loss.

Fortunately, she hadn't posed much of a threat. But that wouldn't last long, he knew.

Red. The most volatile of colors. The Queen of Hearts, infamous for her temper, and chopping heads.

He had no doubt she had plans. And so did he.

He lounged around his house. He had so much to do, and damnit it, he didn't feel like doing any of it.

So he decided to play hooky, and do some minor criminal masterminding to pacify that annoying voice in his head that demanded productivity.

He drafted a few papers, ate some food, watched Law and Order.

Regular guy stuff. He was humming the Law and Order theme song, when his phone rang.

He answered it.

“Hey, you got my money?” He started.

She sighed. “I need you to meet me at the police station.”

He snorted. “Me? Walk into a police station? Voluntarily? Yeah... that's a hard no.”

“Hound,” The woman said lowly. “I'm not going to arrest you. I'm going to f**k you.”

He scoffed. “If I had a dime for every time a woman's told me that, I'd have...about a dollar and twenty-three cents, actually."

“Twenty-three? Where did the three come from?”

“It was an odd day. Anyway, still f**k no. You want me to f**k you? Fine. But I'm not going into a police station.”

“Is the puppy scared?”

Puppy? He gnashed his teeth.

“You know, I was eating nachos and marshmallows, blissfully procrastinating to the thrilling adventures of Law and Order. Until you called. So I'm gonna hang up."

“Hound!”

“f**k you, Wendy Williams.” He hung up.

Wendy narrowed her eyes, grabbing her coat. He was going to pay for that.

***

He heard his lock being picked. He barely looked up. Anyone who picked his lock was suicidal, stupid or a very advanced toddler.

Perhaps all three.

He ate some KitKats, watching the detectives struggle to find the killer.

“It's Jeff guys. It's obviously Jeff. He's guilty!”

Heels clacked against his wooden floors. Heels?

He looked back to see Wendy, pissed, and wearing something black that wasn't quite clothes and wasn't quite lingerie.

It was a provocative mix of both.

“You come when I call,” She said lowly, stalking toward him.

Hound observed her carefully. “I call you Mistress as a joke, you know.”

She looked around he couch, snatching the remote from his hand. With lightening speed she handcuffed his hands, smirking.

“When I call. You come. That's how this works, Hound.”

He quirked a brow, glancing at the police grade cuffs as she straddled him.

She put both hands on either side of his face with a smug smile. Her cleavage had a sheen he fought not to look down at.

“Did you miss me, Hound?”

“Wendy, what the hell do you think you're doing?”

“Teaching you a lesson,” Her grip tightened. He met her eyes silently.

Calmly, he went with....whatever the hell this was.

She smirked, stroking his face.

“You seem quite content in this position,” She noted.

He said nothing, swallowing, staring at her unmoved.

Amused at his stone wall of silence, she leaned down, brushing her lips against his. He closed his eyes, feeling the light touch of her lips against his.

She pressed her nose against his throat, nuzzling the flesh, gliding her hands in his hair, he slightly tensed.

Wendy pulled away, letting her hand glide over the stubble on his face.

“You were never lost. That day. You knew exactly who I was.”

She smirked, chuckling. “Of course I did.”

“And it wasn't a coincidence you found me that night, either. Was it?"

She nuzzled his nose. “You're smart. Now say Aahh!”

He c****d his head, doing nothing.

She slid off the black shaw, to reveal some lacy black underwear. She undid the bra, letting her breasts free.

She sighed in relief. No matter how pretty the bra, she hated it.

“The things I do for you,” She mocked. “Open your mouth.”

Hound looked at her skeptically. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“That doesn't work!”

She sighed, letting her fingers drop to her chest where she caressed the valley between her breasts.

“Why won't you just listen to me,” She pouted. “I only want to make you feel good.”

He cast her a disparaging look, opening his mouth. He'd kill her for this later.

She smiled, offering her cleavage. He took the offer, leaning forward, peppering kisses against the flesh.

He flicked his tongue against the buds, making them stab at the cold air. He was hard, and angry.

This is was not apart of the plan.

“Good boy, Hound.”

He glared at her. “Don't.”