by Elena Monroe
“Jus…” He tossed some sweats to me, and I failed to catch them. I wasn’t even fond of walking places, so catching was a whole different skill set I didn’t have.
“What did you call me?” Unzipping the tiny zipper at my side, I shimmied out of my skirt, not one bit shy now that he had seen me a few times with nothing more than my pride.
“I can’t keep calling you Justice. It makes us sound like fucking superheroes.”
Laughter took over my features and brought tears to my eyes, it was true. I sounded like a less interesting Wonder Woman, but that didn’t stop me from saying, “Fuck you.”
Tying the strings into a perfect bow, I watched his muscles tense and tighten with the movement. I was practically drooling where I stood as he headed for the door, “One day, I’ll let you make fun of my name… until then, are you hungry?”
Following along, I tried to command my stomach from making any kind of argument with me. “Nah, I’m okay. I’m vegan, and it’s complicated for people.” Leaning against the island, I watched him rummage through his fridge and pull out a pack of Tofu, showing it to me.
He always won, didn’t he?
“Like this? I normally bread it in this mix I make: coconut, potato shreds, and breadcrumbs. You gonna help?” He tossed the pack on the island and gathered more things around the kitchen around me, buzzing with motivation.
“What is Vic short for?” I fingered the package, opening it and draining it already, autopilot in full effect.
He made me choke on oxygen when I felt his bare chest against the thin shirt I had on as he reached around me and set down the items for breading the tofu in front of me. “Victory…” he practically whispered it to me.
Safely, further away heating up a pan with oil, he spoke at a normal tone, while goosebumps broke out all over my arms, wishing for his warmth again.
“Everyone calls me Vic because being named Victory is a standard I don’t need to be reminded of.”
VIC
My mask was off, and Justice seemed to like me even more this way, which only made it harder to have to be the guy I am for the Clave. I had no choice but to be the guy I hated for the rest of my life.
Focusing on figuring her out, the push and pull of winning, and the banter we spoke in made it so much easier to keep playing that part. It was glue for my mask. I never expected her to see past the Golden Boy bullshit. No one ever looks hard enough, but she did. She was yanking the real me out with every win.
I guess she won a few battles here and there.
Her phone buzzed as I watched the tofu crisp in the oil of the pan, and she dug a chip into some salsa that was meant for the baked potatoes, but there wasn’t much I would tell her she couldn’t do.
When her eyes shifted to the phone on the counter, I watched her cheeks flush and her teeth knead the inside of her cheek in this uncomfortable way. She was ignoring whoever it was, and I wanted to know why immediately.
Forcing myself not to ask, I told myself I was getting in too deep with her if I couldn’t even control the possessiveness boiling over my sin. I repeated how much it didn’t matter over and over in my mind, while flipping our vegan dinner to crisp the other side.
Another thing we had in common. Taste buds for the unexpected.
Reaching over her, I grabbed the salt, just as her fingers pinched my side, making me jump. “Don’t be so serious.”
Pointing to myself, I gave her a shocked expression. I wasn’t named Victory to put fun first, that never came naturally to any of us, except Khaos. He was all fun and no glory.
She slipped off my island and stared at me like she was challenging me to a duel with her finger between her teeth and the spatula in my hand.
How fitting, I needed weapons to compete with her, and she needed absolutely nothing.
Her phone buzzed against the marble top again, and as I glanced that way, she used it to take advantage. Attacking me with her fingers, she found every spot that was sensitive to touch without trying, while I reached for the stove knobs to keep the tofu from burning.
Both of us were out of breath, our chests heaving, as my hands found the island behind her, taking her in. The smirk she always had when she bested me, nipples tight and hard, and her hands slipping down my abs.
“Look at what you did,” my voice was soaked in a faux disgust, like she meant for me to pop a fucking boner. I had to try my hardest not to laugh at her expression when her hand feathered over the tightness in my sweatpants, while I steadied myself upright from our tickle fight. Both my hands braced on the counter tighter, making sure she had no easy way out of this.
“Oh, please, get over yourself. I’ve seen your dick.”
She tried to push her way through my barricading arms to no avail. I was too strong.
“A dick isn’t my dick, sweetheart,” I growled into her face, so closely our lips nearly touched. Her angelic features melted against the approximation of my skin.
“And what’s so special about yours? You’re just like every other man—entitled and arrogant. You have all the rights that women fight for handed to you just because you have a dick. I hate to break it to you, but that’s pretty average.”
Justice knew when she crossed some invisible line between us, and now she was in enemy territory with my cover blown. I watched her lust tinted eyes immediately get poisoned with the thrill of winning.
“There’s nothing about me that’s average, Peace Corps.” I knew she didn’t love the nickname compared to just her name shortened to Jus. My voice licked the shell of her ear, giving her a lady boner to match mine that was making her thighs rub together with her knee brushing against me in a dangerous way that I liked.
“Who are we playing this time?” Her lips brushed against mine, before her chin turned upwards and our eyes locked.
Leaning down, I let my hands lift her up by the back of the thighs, and she wrapped her legs around me like a snake wraps around a dagger—you never know where it begins and ends. Carrying her to my bedroom, I didn’t stop until I felt my bed against my legs. Sinking a knee into the soft material, I made sure she landed safely.
Her legs rubbed against me, my skin, and she whispered the same question I planned to ignore. When I didn’t answer, she started whispering sweet nothings in my ear, each in a different character.
Where are you hurt, Soldier?
Are you going to arrest me?
I’ll be a good girl, Daddy.
She moved through masks as seamlessly as I did, and it was unnerving, but also comforting. It made me feel less crazy.
Her wet, hot, tongue slid up my throat to my chin, and I let my fingers weave into her, holding her down, even though she wasn’t running.
“No one. Us. For the first time in a long time, I just wanna be the guy you look at like this,” and I pulled away, just enough to see her reaction.
Her knees brushed against my sweatpants, trying hard to get them to move, when all the sarcasm, all the banter, all the battling, was sucked out the room by some simple honesty. That’s all she needed from me—not to win or beat me, but to see me for who I was.
Everything was stringing together as we fell apart.
Sitting up, she pulled my worn shirt over her head, and her hand found the back of my neck as I fell into her again. I hadn’t even touched her yet, and she was already begging for more when my knees pushed into her along with my crotch.
“Take these off…” Her voice was husky already.
Pushing my sweats down between us, our bodies flush, she tried to wiggle out of the pants I gave her. It was useless with us unable to pull ourselves apart.
Sitting back on my heels, I found the edge of my bed before standing up to wrangle my sweats off. I had to talk myself down from breathing so erratically: You aren’t a kid. She doesn’t affect you this badly. It’s just sex.
It would have worked if any of it was true.
This wasn’t just sex. It was Justice forcing me to be myself.
Pulling
her ankles, I watched her slide down the bed to the edge, letting me tug everything else off in one hard yank. She was so pale she practically glimmered against all the black in my room. The random tattoos that made her look like a protest poster and that damn pink hair driving it home. I was marveling at her when she chewed her smile.
“Are you going to fuck me this time?” I could almost feel how much wetter saying that got her.
My hand closed around my girth, and stroked lazily, nothing that could ruin the vice grip Justice is.
“No, this is something different. Something better than a quick fuck.” Tumbling down to the soft surface on my back, I waited for her to straddle me.
“What shall we call this, Vicy?”
Choking down a laugh, there was no chance of taking the wind out of my sails. Losing a boner for Justice was like losing a perfectly good hand by simply wishing to—impossible.
“Whatever people do when they respect each other.”
Legs on either side of mine, she sank down onto my lap, reaching between us for my cock, not breaking eye contact. She didn’t need help taking what she wanted from me.
“I think they call that uncharted territory…” Holding my breath, I savored the feeling of her tight pussy swallowing each inch of me.
With my hands on her ass, I pushed her forward, silently demanding she start rolling her hips on top of me. This was uncharted territory, and neither of us seemed to care. Her hips were rolling at a pace I found unbearable, and I was trying to lose gracefully by giving her the upper hand.
A few moans escaping her mouth had me rethinking my course of action when I pushed her down to her knees and pulled her ass to the end of my bed. Her pussy was wrapped around me tightly, and I still felt like I needed more of her.
Surprisingly, Justice didn’t say a word about the position, she simply begged me to go harder by meeting my movements with her ass, our skin clapping in the air.
Watching myself disappear inside her was a tipping point as I snaked my hand around her neck and squeezed assessing her reaction.
She was overdosing on me, and I needed her to tap out. She tilted her head back instead, giving my hand a better grip and crossing her legs at the ankles making her pussy even more snug around me.
Loosening my grip, only slightly, she whimpered between moans, “Stop hating yourself. We are who we are… we like what we like...”
Pushing her down to the bed, she already looked exhausted when her legs opened for me. We were both covered in a sticky kind of sweat the friction was creating.
Eventually, we would catch fire, just not today.
“So I can be as unchained as you are? Everyone hates themselves a little. It’s what drives us… the hope we’ll change one day.” I continued thrusting between her legs in a rough way that made her head tilt back as she came undone.
My elbows dug into my black duvet, and I held her into place, only making me more painfully deep inside of her.
Our open mouths brushed against each other’s when her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer. “We can like each other enough to make up for how much we hate ourselves...”
I felt her tongue swipe along my lip before finding mine. We were both breathing into each other as my hips pounded into hers. Pinning her legs to me, giving myself some more depth, I felt the familiar tightening cascade over my every muscle.
“Jus,” my dick pulsed and jumped into her.
She nodded erratically when my thrusts got brutally painful. “I can’t come again… It’s all you.”
Finding her hands, our fingers automatically wove together as I let go, holding off just long enough to make her back arch and her pussy tighten one last time as she came again, even after she said she couldn’t.
Falling on top of her, I was at a loss for words, but she didn’t push me to talk or move away. She just let me stay inside her, faces touching, and the world fading to black around us.
“What did you mean by Horsemen of the Apocalypse?” Leave it to Justice to swiftly move on, while I was still under her spell.
Trying to get my breath back, I sat up letting myself sink into recovering. “It’s what we were bred for, all four of us—conquest, war, death, and famine. Not sure it makes us special, but it sure does make us fucked up.”
Lifting to her own elbows, she looked intrigued, instead of turned off. “Is it a Clave thing, or families being rich as fuck thing?”
“Both. It’s tradition passed down for decades, and it’s our role in the Clave. That’s the job we do.” Grabbing my underwear from the floor, I stepped into them before handing her the sweats again.
“Maybe you never hated yourself; you just hated being a conquest.” She guessed who I was without much time to mull it over.
“It’s up for debate what part of myself I hate. Even if I hate who I am for them, it doesn’t mean all that’s left is self-love; it’s not that simple. I don’t hate being the guy who oversees the weapons, but I hate being the guy who pulls the trigger. I don’t hate rubbing elbows with the elite and being the best, but I hate knowing I’ll never be held accountable. I don’t hate that my mom left this life, but I hate knowing my dad loves his bastard sons more than me.” Pausing, I watched her soak it up next to me in my shirt. “It’s not simple.”
Taking my hand, she stood between my legs. “Well, you can’t like the good without liking the bad. Sexual awakenings make me hungry, come on.”
Dragging me with more strength than I thought she had, I stopped in my tracks, hearing her phone buzz again. Reaching for it, she said, “I’ll just put it on silent.”
I was quicker than her, snagging it first and flipping it over to the screen, only to see Rodriguez's name on a few dozen texts.
“What the fuck is this?” I questioned her, only moments after she agreed to love the bad too.
“Who else was I supposed to call? You killed someone.” Her smug expression was looking for a thank you, when it wasn’t coming.
Justice had made a move so wrong it was hard to accept it came from her direction, and it felt like a betrayal.
“Why would you do that? He can’t cover up a fucking murder, Justice!” I shouted, putting her phone down before I threw it or shattered it in my grip.
“He always helps me out of trouble. Maybe he can help us figure this out…” Her intentions were honorable, but her inability to use her brain was making it seem less honorable.
“Getting you out of protesting arrests and murder are two very different things. His blood runs Clave until he decides it only runs blue. There’s no guarantee he’ll overlook this.” My hands interlaced on top of my head as I paced, trying to think, then I looked for my own phone to call the guys.
Bowen answered upon the first ring, but not sounding as sober as I needed him to be. Putting it on speaker phone, I laid it on the counter. “Yeah?”
“We have a problem.”
“A Grimm problem? A me problem? Be specific. I’m too drunk to guess.” I could already tell by his lazy words and long pauses.
“I killed Dante. Put that under whatever category you want. Justice decided to tell her cop friend for help.”
Laughter rang through the speaker of my phone, before he replied, “You’re a fucking idiot. How do you know he’s dead? Did you hear him stop breathing? Did you dispose of the body? How do you know he didn’t have Kevlar on?”
Taking him off speaker and pushing the phone to the shell of my ear, I felt stupid. I didn’t even think to make sure he was dead. I was blinded by making a statement to not touch what’s mine and the fact that he did.
“What’s the chances of him being alive?”
“I’ll let you know tonight. I have to go to S&F for a shipment.” His voice suddenly sounded more sober.
“Text me when you know. This has to be handled before we leave for the Grove, and I can’t talk to Rodriguez until I know exactly what I did.”
“Rodriguez has never fully turned his back on the blue. As much as he’s ours,
he’s theirs too.” Bowen was stating the obvious, but maybe I needed to hear it.
Maybe I needed to hear about that small space of leverage I had. Maybe that small space was a bad decision I needed to make, if he couldn’t let this go.
“I know. He’s protective of Jus, though. I’ll have Khaos dig up some information.” Hanging up the phone, I immediately dialed Khaos, waiting for him to answer, when I got a text message in return.
KHAOS: Knee deep in tacos.
VIC: Take a pause from your orgy. It’s Clave business.
KHAOS: I’ll multitask, shoot.
VIC: Rodriguez. Justice. Connections. Can you handle that?
KHAOS: Can I handle Veronica, Poppy, Dahlia and that five minute task? Consider it done.
Putting down my phone again, I stopped pacing. My palms dug into the edge of the counter, and my head fell between my shoulders. Justice had made quite a mess for me to clean up.
“I thought I was doing the right thing…”
“You always do, don’t you?” There was a sharp tone to my voice that hated her for always tipping over to the good side, always listening to the angel on her shoulder, and doing the right thing, no matter how bad it was for everyone else.
“He’s a friend, you know this. It’s not that deep.” She was reading my mind, and I didn’t know how.
Without my mask on, was I transparent?
She was clearly unaffected by the damage she was causing, and I wasn’t sure how to clean up messes that touched me this closely. I was used to cleaning up messes that weren’t mine. My accountability was elsewhere, tucked away for when I would need it.
Apparently, she wasn’t just forcing me to look myself in the mirror until I stopped hating myself, but also forcing me to take accountability for my own fuck ups too.
BOWEN
Bohemian Grove was a field trip for adults in the Monte Rio woods that consisted of headaches, liquor, and kissing a lot of fucking rings on old guy’s hands.
Not going should be a treat, but it was a much needed break from my mind numbing routine of work. I was looking forward to the time off when my mother made it perfectly clear I was going to be courting my soon-to-be bride.
