You should totes do something about Mitch Rapp getting shot with a life threatening Aphrodisiac during a mission with reader, sorry if this is short! Tysm!!
Don't apologize, my dear! Thank YOU! And so sorry for the wait!
But you've got a point... The flip in his demeanor would be jarring. One moment, he's groaning and clutching his side as his partner sits him down on the bed of the safehouse. "Fuck! I knew it was a trap, we shouldn't have gone in there blind, we should've- fucking hell!" And in the next, he's staring at her all doe-eyed while she cleans the wound, no longer fazed by the pain.
At first, she thinks it's because of the loss of blood: the lingering stares and the uneven breathing. But when she tries to hand him his shirt after stitching him up, he just grabs her by her hips and pulls her closer so that she's standing in between his knees.
"Mitch... What are you doing?" she asks hesitantly, not used to this side of him.
"I wanna thank you. Will you let me do that? Let me thank you for saving me?"
He just smirks at her confusion and his hands roam her sides. "It's the least I could do. Come on, don't tell me you're done touching me already."
Her jaw drops and so does his shirt from her hand. Warmth spreads through her cheeks and down her neck as she truly registers what his intentions are. Feeling her stomach drop and her panties dampen, she internally cringes at herself. This is her work partner after all.
Meanwhile, Mitch just chuckles and ignores his climbing fever and paling skin as the poison spreads. He's more concerned about his aching dick and the absolute beauty in front of him.
"Mitch, I don't think we should..." she mutters, barely getting the words out.
Without an ounce of hesitation, he makes his move. He takes control. His survival instincts subconsciously kick in, disguised as desire. Now she lies on the bed and he kneels between her legs, his eyes darkening at her.
"I need you, understand?" Beads of sweat make his body glisten even in the dim light.
Passion or desperation, it's hard for her to tell, but regardless, she suddenly realizes the roots of this flip go further than she originally thought, and that makes her just about melt. Watching him heave clears her mind of doubt, and lust swirls throughout her too. Maybe her work isn't done, maybe he really does still need her.
Their bodies move together in unison, lips locking and hips grinding. Neither of them care to fully undress; they have their priorities straight. Pants are shoved down, panties pulled to the side, and at last, the cure seems attainable.
She cries out at the feeling of him grasping for his own life, every thrust is a step back from the light calling to him.
He trembles, barely holding himself up and practically drooling. "Fuck, I can't... I need... I..." he trails off, losing strength.
In a panic, she helps him lay down and takes over straddling him and running a gentle hand through his disheveled hair. "It's ok. I've got you now, it's gonna be ok." Her words are soft and cast out the discomfort in the back of Mitch's mind.
She rolls her hips forward, slowly at first. Hums and sighs that leave her lips are music to his ears, especially in contrast to his gasps and whimpers.
Gradually, her pace quickens, and he uses whatever energy he has left to buck his hips upward, fighting to reach that finish line. The moments before the end are the most excruciating, his whole body feels like it's on fire and his lungs feel like they're shriveling up. And yet, he grips her thighs and groans from a tantalizing mixture of agony and bliss until it all melts away.
Like a fucking fairytale, she watches Mitch come back to life, his skin flushing and his face animating as he catches his breath. It's all surreal, but boy, is he glad to be alive and looking up at the angel who saved him.
