One More Night (Ch. 2)
— Pairing: Enjin x Cleaner fem!Reader — * NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI * Chapter Index: Ch. 1, Ch. 2 (here) Description: You transferred to East Ward only to find that Enjin is rather aloof. Despite the fact that you got along well with the Akuta team, frustration was seeping through the cracks. You were sloppy on the latest mission, Enjin noticed, so he decides to take matters into his own hands. 4.8k — Ch. 2 Content: implied sexual history, sexually frustrated reader, sexual tension, thigh riding/dry humping, enjin talks reader through it, clit stimulation, praise, masturbation, avoidant enjin x avoidant reader Note: chapter two is here! more chapters are currently in the works—i appreciate any and all feedback, enjoy!
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The East Ward gave you their own version of a warm welcome when you arrived later that Friday afternoon. It was a slower period of the day which meant your intake would be less hectic. A broad man in a support uniform who went by the name Gris had greeted you at the entrance.
“Looking forward to having some extra hands here,” he spoke warmly before turning to the support next to him, “this is Follo, another Akuta support.”
“Nice to meet you.” You hiked your tote bag up on your shoulder.
“Here, we can help you with that.“ Follo reached out, both of them taking a bag in hand before Gris looked back at you with a smile.
“Let’s give you the tour.”
They showed you around with a relaxed demeanor and not much preamble. Dining hall, med bay, training rooms, conference rooms, common spaces—you knew the ropes. Thankfully, the layout was a rough replica of your home HQ, providing one less logistic you had to worry about.
Not that you were entirely free of concerns, one of which being your introduction to a whole new team. Your own team in the North Ward was made of adults your age or older, while Akuta ranged from teens to early twenty-somethings—not that there was much difference between the two on the field. If you were getting into semantics, you’d say adults thought they didn’t need managing while teenagers might know they did but refused it anyway. They were two sides of the same stubborn coin. It didn’t bother you, though—if being stubborn meant you’d keep waking up the next day, so be it.
Still, stepping into another team’s dynamic and asserting yourself as their superior felt presumptuous at best.
And then there was him. Sure, you and Enjin got along more than amicably when buzzed and looking for a good time—would that translate? It might be kind of weird, at least to start. Or it might be totally fine, you reminded yourself. First day nerves had a way of clinging to thoughts you’d usually not give much merit.
So maybe you were a little nervous. You’d dealt with worse.
The living quarters were the last stop of your tour. Your guides led you to the end of a long hallway, setting your bags down as Gris unlocked the door to one of the rooms before dropping the key in your hand.
“All yours,” he patted you on the shoulder, “don’t be afraid to holler if you need anything.”
You nodded with a sincere thanks as they waved you off before carrying your bags inside.
The room was clean and slightly smaller than your one in North Ward; white paint, gray floor, one window—standard. Thankfully, after unpacking some things it looked less sterile and a bit more like home.
You could hear someone in the next room over shuffling through their door as you folded some clothes into the dresser. The walls were thin, you realized, making a mental note to not be too brutish when it came evening. Being a light sleeper yourself, you hoped they did the same.
During your tour, you had been debriefed on the usual welcome party held for new recruits, which apparently also included temporary stays like yourself. It appeared the East cleaners loved any excuse to have a good time. You weren’t one for big to-dos but you could appreciate the sentiment.
By the time you had gotten everything in its place, you realized you should start heading to the celebration. Your stomach growled in affirmation, smelling food in the hallway as you approached the dining hall.
Admittedly, the hall wasn’t what you expected as you entered. The walls were covered in colorful graffiti and lit by strings of lights—it looked more like a kickback than a place you’d go for dinner. Groups of people ranging all ages filled out the tables around.
As you took in the scenery, you noticed the man who showed you around earlier waving to you. You made your way, weaving through small groups of other supports and cleaners standing nearby.
“Hey, glad you could make it!” Gris gestured for you to follow him. “I want to introduce you to some folks.”
He took you around the room, putting names to some of the different faces you would soon be leading.
First, towards the outer edge of the room, was a girl named Riyo. She had blazing red hair and an easygoing spunk to her—something you suspected became the opposite if you were to get on her bad side. Leaning against the wall next to her was an older teen, Zanka, who carried himself rather seriously. You got the impression he wasn’t one for frivolities.
Eventually, you both circled back around to the entrance where a meek girl named Eishia stood with her not-so-meek brother, August. They seemed nice.
Then there was Rudo, a quiet boy that was smaller than the rest. He sat by himself, brooding and a bit shy. Gris gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder before the boy stammered out an awkward “nice to meet you” which you returned warmly. You didn’t take it personally.
Following your rounds, Gris brought you to the counter so you could order something to eat. Unpacking on a near empty stomach had really worked up your appetite.
“We have a table opposite the counter to the right, feel free to join us.” Gris extended the invitation as he began making his way there.
“Thanks, I will.”
Now that you had gotten a quick read on the team, things felt less daunting. You could work with this.
No sign of Enjin, though. Maybe that was a good thing.
After a short wait, one of the kitchen staff shoved a hearty plate of food into your hands. Once utensils and something to drink were found, you moved to the team’s table, sitting down in one of the empty seats.
It was a lively bunch, which meant they were never for lack of conversation. You usually preferred to observe a group’s dynamic before jumping in yourself, but they made sure to include you anyway. They asked about the North Ward and your home team. You answered between bites before asking some questions of your own.
Everything was going surprisingly well. You weren’t sure why you had been nervous in the first place.
“Hey, Enjin! Over here!” Riyo stood, waving from her side of the table emphatically.
Right.
You turned over your shoulder, looking to him as he approached. He kept his gaze straight ahead, sporting an easy smile directed at the table. You felt him come to stand behind you, bracing his arm casually against the back of your chair as he spoke without so much as a glance in your direction.
“Gonna grab some food before they run out, any requests?”
Besides Follo who asked for some extra napkins, the rest of the team shook their heads. You averted your focus back in front of you. You weren’t sure if you were keeping things professional or just being a wimp. Perhaps both.
His hand finally lifted from behind you as he began his stroll to the counter.
“That’s Enjin, our team leader.” Gris leaned towards you to clarify. You nodded, smiling like your stomach hadn’t just knotted. You were familiar.
Enjin returned with a plate stacked high, tossing the extra napkins in the center of the table before plopping down in an open seat by Riyo and Zanka. They were quick to talk to him, curious where he had been. He dismissed their concern with a wave of his hand and no further details from what you could hear. You supposed it was good to know that enigmatic thing he led with wasn’t personal.
You struck up conversation with a few other team members, asking about their vital instruments. It was crucial to familiarize yourself with what they each brought to the table before heading out on the field together—synergy and all that. You listened intently, nodding along as they explained the ins and outs of their chosen instruments.
“What about yours, Miss?” Eishia looked at you, likely curious as to what type of injuries you might sustain that she’d have to heal. Just the thought appeared to make her nervous.
Your vital instrument wasn’t all that complicated or showy and you preferred it that way. You reached to your hair where it was thrown in a casual updo, pulling out a long silver hairpin that held it together, causing your hair to sweep down your back and across your shoulders. Enjin’s eyes seemed to still on you for a moment—the first he’d looked at you all night—before returning to his conversation.
You held the hairpin out in your hand as you explained what it was capable of, mostly movement and defensive fighting. When activated with anima, it morphed to be a few feet taller than you, like a vaulting pole of sorts. It helped you maneuever through fights with ease and get off blows before trash beasts knew what hit them. Elegant and practical, just how you liked it.
“So you’re not a front-liner, then?” Zanka asked astutely.
“Not typically, I work better circling the field. Allows me to keep an eye on things.” You tucked your instrument away as you answered.
“Hm.” Riyo’s chin was perched atop her hands on the table, smiling like she knew something you didn’t. “Just like Enjin.”
You stole a quick glance at him, seemingly not listening as he talked to Gris—well, you thought you were quick, but he was quicker. His gaze flicked to yours before you could look away, holding long enough for you to assume it was intentional before returning to his conversation.
So much for not stepping on toes.
“Should be fine.” Riyo waved her hand dismissively, not having noticed the exchange, “Just gotta make sure you move in the same direction so you don’t run into each other.”
You laughed at that, grateful for the levity. “Problem solved, then.”
You talked with the team for a bit longer until exhaustion crept in. Judging by the way a few of them rubbed at their eyes and yawned, the table was feeling something similar. You thanked everyone for their warm welcome before Enjin and Gris began ushering the rest of the members out of to the dining hall.
You stood with a stretch, feeling the muscles in your back protest from sitting too long. You carried your empty tray to the counter before making your way to the entrance along with the others.
Most had split off to go to their respective hallways by the time you got to your own—everyone besides Enjin. He walked a few paces behind as you headed towards the end of the hall.
Despite the day’s success, he was all you could seem to focus on currently. The man who barely acknowledged you all evening, who made you feel like a fool for thinking he’d treat you like you’d treat him. It was one thing to be discreet, it was another to make you feel like a complete stranger.
Right?
You attempted to shake him from your thoughts as you approached your door—until he stopped right behind where you stood. He was following you. He had tailed you all the way to your room. Even though you weren’t necessarily surprised, he really had some nerve. Without warning, you whipped around to face him.
“So you don’t say a word to me all evening, but now you’re following me to my room?”
Enjin appeared taken aback. Maybe he wasn’t expecting you to confront him. You hadn’t really expected it either, to be honest. Instead of responding right away, he simply held your stare as something smug started to pull at the corners of his mouth.
“While I’m flattered you think so highly of me,” you watched as his hand tucked into his coat pocket, taking out a key, “not everything is about you, ya know.” He said it with no bite, eyes trained on where he slid the key into the lock of the door next to yours with a practiced turn before looking back to you. “Welcome to the team, neighbor.”
You wanted to say something—but he left you in the hallway before anything came out, closing his door behind him while embarrassment rushed over your skin in a hot wave. You were never one to be so temperamental, quite the opposite actually. Those sleepless nights leading up to the transfer must’ve really done a number on your equanimity.
You opened your own door, promptly making your way inside as if the privacy could save you from the regret. Not that the walls provided much beyond the illusion of such as you heard Enjin walking across his room, opening his drawers on the other side . . . then unbuckling his belt—god, you needed to get a grip!
It was fine. He didn’t seem all that offended—although his apparent amusement wasn’t much better. And he probably did deserve a little bit of your frustration, even if it was misled.
Antsy for something to distract yourself, you stepped to your own dresser to change into something more comfortable for bed. The effort was futile though because each movement only made you feel more exposed. You were sure he could hear it all: you pacing across your room, undressing from the day, sitting on your bed. You listened as his mattress creaked on the other side of the wall.
Maybe the circumstance would prove helpful—having the person you wanted to hookup with right next door was hardly a bad thing. Logistically, the ordeal became a lot simpler.
The feeling in your gut was not so easily convinced as you slipped under the covers. Maybe it was best to will yourself to sleep instead of trying to be optimistic any longer.
With a press of the switch on your bedside lamp, you plunged the room into darkness.
*Click*
Faintly, you heard the same noise mirror you on other side of the wall.
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Three weeks had come and went faster than expected. You finally had a handle on the ins and outs of the Akuta team. You’d managed to help Rudo open a bit. You’d gained the other members’ trust. You’d been carrying out your duties as instructed.
And you hadn’t spoken to Enjin since the first night you arrived. Well, not directly anyway.
He was around, yet never really at the center of things—which should’ve made it easier for you to focus, but instead your energy was spent scanning your periphery. Admittedly, you had hoped to be in his bedroom within the first week, maybe the second if you were being cordial.
It was possible you had misread him. Maybe it was just an act. After all, you weren’t entirely the same person he met once a year either. Still, it felt real enough that you couldn’t seem to recreate the result by yourself even when you tried.
To rub salt into the wound, you were slipping up more than usual on missions this past week. They were stupid mistakes, ones you’d typically never make; like letting your guard down too soon, or getting your positioning mixed up. Your swings also weren’t angled quite right and your timing was stilted. Nothing egregious, but they were amateur missteps for a veteran like yourself.
Today’s mission had left your ego bruised more than your skin. You were frustrated. Not only had you gotten your hopes up for some kind of makeup hookup, but now you also apparently sucked at your job. So you had gotten sloppy, just not in the way you wanted.
It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed as Enjin called you over after returning to HQ.
“So,” he examined you carefully, “something on your mind? Or can you just not keep up?”
“I don’t know, I’m sorry.” You let out an incredulous sigh. “I’ll figure it out.”
He shook his head, not caring for an apology and an empty answer.
“Tell ya what,” he leaned against his instrument, Umbreaker, as he continued, “meet me at the training rooms in ten. Gonna have you spar with me to assess your weak points, then you can start fixing ‘em.”
You didn’t protest, just nodded back at him and accepted your fate.
It was mortifying. You prided yourself on your competence. You were meticulous, disciplined, adaptable. Yet somehow, this place had you off kilter. Technically, the job was getting done, just not to your personal standard—clearly not to your co-leader’s standard either.
You made a round to your room to drop off some stuff before heading to the training bay. You claimed the first empty room available, making your way to sit on one of the side benches until Enjin arrived shortly after.
“Okay.” He closed the door, making his way to the room’s center before turning to you. “I’m gonna assume you’ve sparred back in North Ward during your recruit training, yeah?”
“Yes. Been a while though.” You got up, walking to stand opposite him with your hands on your hips.
“Doesn’t matter, the goal is the same.” He gestured towards himself. “Disarm your opponent.“
You pulled your instrument from your sleeve where it had been tucked during the morning’s mission, infusing it with anima so it transformed to its real height. Enjin did the same, his umbrella now stood as tall as him with each spindle bladed.
He gave you a look to make sure you were ready. You affirmed with a tilt of your heard.
He watched as you eyed him in wait, unsure if you should make the first move or if you should let him. Both had their strategic advantage. He smiled at your pause.
“You’ve got good instincts,” he said bluntly, “follow ‘em.”
You vaulted to his right—his non-dominant side—before attempting a swing at his ankles. It wasn’t terrible, but Enjin intercepted the blow with his instrument before you got there.
The maneuver wasn’t a total loss, though, because your position allowed you to reach around the front of his torso, pulling him into a clothesline with your pin. It wasn’t what he had expected, but Enjin adapted quickly, ducking from your choke before skirting around you with the help of Umbreaker.
This time he initiated, coming at you from different off-angles. You managed to evade his hits yet still couldn’t pull off any of your own. Each attempt was just a little too slow, too disjointed. You took a breath to steel yourself.
Enjin was monitoring your strides closely. You made another swing followed by another miss. He noticed you seemed to falter more when he made the first move.
He charged into your space, this time successfully pinning one arm behind you with the curved handle of his instrument. Your heart raced as you wrenched from his grasp with all the grace of a caged animal. Heat began to simmer in your chest.
“Stay calm,” he called out, “that frustration is making you sloppy.”
He was right. All it did was make you want to roll your eyes, though, because you usually were calm!
Following a few more failed attempts involving variations of Enjin keeping you against him, blocking hit after hit with Umbreaker, he got an inkling it wasn’t just anger that was making you unsteady.
He tested his hypothesis again—and sure enough, the moment his eyes locked on yours, you faltered. When he got in your personal space, you lost your grip. If you touched beyond a brush of contact, your focus scattered.
Just as he connected the dots, you managed to catch him off guard. With a swing of your pin to his abdomen, you knocked him flat on his back. Succinctly straddling his legs as you leaned forward, chest to chest, you moved to hold his arms firmly below you on the training mat. Your vital instrument now cast beside you.
Good, he thought. But what would happen if . . .
“Nice job.”
He conceded, catching his breath before delivering the deciding blow.
“You taking charge,” he mused lowly, “kinda hot.”
Your head spun.
In one fluid motion, Enjin’s hands suddenly slid from your grasp. Flipping the script, he bound his fingers around your wrists before sitting up with a look that said he suspected as much.
“Oh fuck off, Enjin.” You groaned, irritation igniting in your chest and burning low in your stomach.
You just couldn’t focus with him this close! You were too aware of his proximity. How each muscle flexed beneath you, skin on skin. How carefully he took you in, like you were something worth solving. If he was so set on avoiding you, why even bother!
He searched your eyes. Noting the way your chest heaved slightly, how your cheeks flushed deeper under his observation. You hadn’t even fought his hold—your body surrendered before you got the chance.
It didn’t look like you needed correcting, he determined.
Maybe . . .
“Alright, new approach.”
He released your wrists, hands moving instead to splay across your hips. He looked below to where your legs wrapped around his thigh before flicking his focus back up to you.
“Ride it.”
What you really needed, he wagered, was some relief.
You blinked at him, dazed just by the suggestion. Your mouth opened, but he shook his head at you before anything could come out. He simply gestured down to where you were connected with his chin, holding your stare.
“Try for me.”
‘For me.’
Your composure slipped into something headier—would you? Right here?
A heavy pulse you barely recognized to be your own thumped helplessly in your ears as your hands came up, bracing against his chest.
Slowly, you started to rock your hips.
Once you took initiative, Enjin helped, gently guiding the motion with his hands until you found a rhythm. A hitched breath escaped as you felt the seam of your uniform grind against somewhere sensitive.
“There ya go.” He coaxed, eyes trained on your expression where your eyebrows knitted together. “Work it alllll out.”
You panted, chasing the insatiable feeling that had been building for days, weeks even. You normally possessed more self-control than this, but right now, you didn’t care. The impulse clouded your every thought, disparaging your usual propriety as if it were only an excuse. Until all you were left with was a pitiful and wanton form of surrender.
His knee lifted slightly, just enough to press right where you needed him. You gasped softly at the new angle.
“Fuck, Enjin.”
“Mm. Keep going.” It was a casual order, one that made you feel anything but.
You rutted yourself against his thigh, chasing the friction. The pleasure was quickly overcoming you as your breathing became heavy and muscles started to shake. Feeling you tremble, Enjin tightened his grip before bringing you down firmer and faster to help you along.
A familiar sensation began building in your stomach. But desire was a greedy thing—and you needed more.
“Please.” You breathed out, a plea masquerading as control.
Enjin didn’t hesitate. His thumb moved to press against your clit over the fabric of your pants, knowing he found it when you let out a small whimper in response. He held the seam against it, brushing up and down in a way that made your hips catch and jerk in their rhythm. His other hand slid around to your back, dipping just beneath your waistband to push at the base of your spine, curving your hips up into his ministrations.
Sometimes you wondered if he could read your mind. Well, it was more than that, like he knew what you wanted before you even knew yourself. It was equal parts unnerving and quite possibly the hottest thing you’d ever seen.
“What if,” an involuntary whine interrupted you before continuing, “someone comes in?”
He shook his head. “Door’s locked. Just let go, I got ya.”
He spoke so matter-a-factly, as if you weren’t a whimpering mess clinging to his leg and fucking yourself like it was more than just catharsis that you needed.
“Ah, think I’m—” Your body teetered on the edge. Still, you just needed something.
“Mhm.” He hummed calmly. “Give it to me, pretty girl.”
A spark shot through your spine, hitting every last nerve-ending. And at that, the coil in your stomach finally snapped.
Your climax shuddered through you violently, nearly knocking the air from your lungs as you lolled forward. Your nails dug into Enjin’s shoulders where you held on in attempts to keep yourself upright. His hands, always so helpful, came back to your sides to assist as you rode it out. Your core fluttered rapidly while your hips jerked of their own accord, creating a friction that was near overstimulating.
You swallowed the noises that bubbled up your throat as the pleasure rippled over you in waves. Gradually, the intensity started to fizzle out. Your muscles had become lax, leaving you heady and spent.
Enjin’s hands slowed to a stop with your hips. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed circles over your skin, allowing you to come back down to earth before he spoke.
“Feel better?”
You leaned back from slope of his shoulder languorously, face flushed and breath shallow.
“ . . . Yeah. Think so.”
Upon your confirmation, he gave your thigh a gentle pat before helping you to your feet. You stood, bracing your hands against his forearms with a small wobble as you centered yourself.
Reality started to wash over you. You just got off on your coworker’s lap.
“Wait, what about—” you felt guilty using him like that with nothing in return, even if he had insisted.
“Appreciate it,” he was already pivoting towards the door, giving a casual wave over his shoulder in your direction, “but go get some rest, ‘kay?”
You heard the latch of the door click closed behind him, echoing in the open room as his footsteps got further away. Dazed, you reached to smooth your hair and adjust your uniform to its proper place before heading out into the hallway.
You returned to your room, carefully closing yourself inside. With a tug of your waistband, you stepped out of your uniform bottoms and removed your ruined underwear. You shed the rest of your clothes before hopping in the shower to clean up—despite how much you sometimes felt like one around him, you weren’t a complete animal.
You soon emerged from the shower rid of the evidence. Even so, the event continued to swirl in your head, replaying against your will with his voice echoing like a through line. And your body was still thrumming in the aftermath like it couldn’t let go just yet. Part of you was grateful he wasn’t also in his room right now. The other, the more fickle side, was a little disappointed.
He was doing you a favor, helping you clear your head. Taking care of the team.
Nothing more.
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It must’ve been getting late judging by the hush that had settled over HQ—Enjin decided to call it. His focus had been shot for the day anyway.
He made his way back to the dorms. He heard nothing from your side of the wall as he slid off his coat and boots, setting his instrument by the door. You were probably asleep by now.
Sleep. That’s what he should do.
Instead, he sat down on the edge of his bed, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his back pocket. Lighting it lazily, he inhaled the smoke, letting his lungs fill with a dull burn. It wasn’t enough.
He moved to lay on his back, resting his unoccupied hand on his abdomen before breathing in another slow drag. He didn’t dare close his eyes—he knew you’d be there.
In the past few years, every time he’d had sex with you, it would ruin it for him for months. No one looked at him the way you did, no one moved like you, no one felt like you. Everything about you fucking lingered. All he could do was thank whatever powers in charge that you had been kept far the fuck away from him.
You were supposed to be a one-off thing. A guilty pleasure.
He groaned quietly in defeat as his free hand started to slide under his waistband, feeling himself grow heavy and aching under his fingers. He took another hit of the cigarette before snubbing its end into the ashtray on his nightstand.
With one last exhale, he gave in. His hand moved slow at first, like it was almost painful to do so. He was more pent up than usual, it seemed, because each consecutive stroke became faster than the last. He thumbed over the tip to catch what leaked—undeniable proof of what you did to him.
His mind wandered back to the training room. Recalling the way you had tried so hard to keep your composure before trusting him enough to break it. How you fell apart still fully-clothed on top of him. How he had to pretend each desperate noise that fell from your lips hadn’t made him twitch below his belt.
The muscles in his abdomen started to tighten at his grip, harsh to the point of overwhelm. The sensation made his eyes squeeze close and head tip back as he stifled a low moan. He couldn’t take it anymore.
Following a desperate pull of his wrist, he came in hard pulses onto his stomach with your face behind his eyelids.
He felt guilty alright.
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