Faceless, Blood Ties (Henry/Vicki)
Title: Faceless Author/Artist: shiegra Rating: R/NC17
Prompt: Blood Ties - Henry/Vicki - Anonymous sex (clubbing; glory-holes; alley sex) - She knew it was him, but still refused to see his face or allow him to see hers. Word count: 421
Coreen had wanted to give her clothes.
Vicki hadn't wanted to hurt the girl's feelings, but she couldn't stop the laugh. Luckily, her assistant knew her well enough now to merely arch her brows with skeptical amusement and discreetly toe the box under her desk.
She kept it there near-constantly, now.
Vicki had never pretended it was jobs that these trips were for. Coreen was too smart for that, and she didn't honestly feel a reason to. Besides, she wasn't particularly fond of lying.
So she left in her beat up jacket and jeans, and she made her way there one foot in front of the other, her heart beating a little too fast, her boots beating a steady tattoo against pavement. She wasn't exactly at home in the club by now, but she was more comfortable than was probably healthy.
Because of him, naturally. Because she'd endured the environment often enough, as much as she wouldn't say a word about it--wouldn't let herself say his name, wouldn't let it lay between them when they met during jobs--it was very nearly what kept her sane.
She knew it was him, of course. No one else would catch her hands with a grip that strong, or touch her at all without retribution. No one else smelled quite like that when they pressed her against the wall, her fingers curling restlessly against brick, her head tilted back as his mouth settled on her neck, wet and heated, near-idle suction over her pulse.
No one else fucked her quite the same way, and she wasn't sure she should be glad of that. She could rock against him, but here and now he was in control, pinning her, just a little more wild than the face he usually showed the world, or even his usual meal tickets. She didn't know whether it was something she should be grateful for, but it sure as hell wasn't going to be something that upset her.
Especially since during the moments it occurred, she was rarely coherent enough to devote the thought to it.
And even if she had gotten accidentally screwed some random stranger in the club, no one but Henry would touch her quite that way, supporting her as he stepped away and she gasped for breath, hands skimming down her sides and lingering on her hips--not quite proprietary.
Almost reverent.
She nearly bit her lip through not crying out his name sometimes. But acknowledging it would cross some line and she wasn't ready to step over it yet.