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Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz - Night Terrors

        His heart was pounding, Mouse could hear his owen ragged breathes tearing through the dim room as his eyes snapped open. He found himself staring at the dimly lit ceiling, the warm glow from the child’s nightlight plugged in beside his bed bathing the room. He hated the darkness, he hated waking up disorientated, not knowing where he was. Just the thought of it made the muscles in his thorax constrict as he struggled to draw in breath. His lifted his right hand, placing his palm on the left side of his chest so that he could feel his heart pounding rhythmically underneath the fabric of his shirt.

                    His mind was racing, he could feel it tripping over itself as it flooded him with sights and sounds from a life he had left behind over two years ago. Even now he could still hear the blood rushing in his ears from the explosion that had led to his medical discharge, the stench of burned flesh clung to his nostrils making each and every breath nauseating. His stomach twisted as he swallowed back bile trying to shake the images that haunted his dreams. He closed his eyes, focusing on the constant thrum of his heart as he drew in a deep breath through his mouth, focusing on the sensation of his lungs filling up as he counted backwards from ten before he released it.

                    He practiced this method over and over again until he began to feel the tension in his muscles unfurling. He shifted his legs, kicking out in an attempt to dislodge the sheets that were restricting his movements. The glaze of sweat was already beginning to stick to his flesh as the cool Chicago air washed over his skin from the open window. He flinched as the sound of traffic resounded in his ears, flooding his senses until it was almost deafening.

                    Hypersensitivity was a symptom of his PTSD, Mouse was aware of that. After a panic attack or a nightmare it was always triggered, sometimes it made him feel like his skin was going to crawl right off his bones. That’s how it felt tonight, like the noise in his head was too loud and his body was starting to vibrate with the force of it.

                    In the past he would reached for the Oxy. The narcotic had been the only thing that had been able to dull his senses when the pain got so bad he could barely think straight. Now he was almost a year sober and still working the program as hard as he could to make sure he stayed that way. At this point his sobriety meant the world to him, he’d been drifting for a while before Jay had got him into Narcotics Anonymous. He’d felt more like himself in the past six months than he had in a long time and he was committed to that.

                    His head was still hurting like a bastard when he swung his legs out of bed coming to perch on the edge of it. He rubbed his hands over his weary features before casting a glance at digital alarm clock on the nightstand.

                    4.47am

                    He wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon, so he may as well head into work early and make a start on a few of those upgrades he’d been planning.

                    Busy hands, he thought, busy mind.

[glitterquadricorn]

“when you touch me I feel a little less broken”- Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz

Summary: Stressed out and wanting some comfort, she goes to Mouse.  Pairing: Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz x Reader Word Count: 522 Warning(s): a pinch of angst, mentions killing/murder, a couple of curse words, etc

I was hoping for some angsty fluff. Like maybe the reader and Mouse have had an on and off casual thing over the years and she has had a really tough time at work as a detective because all the cases have ended badly and one night she shows up and she needs some comfort

Requested by: @gottaboopthesnoot

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There were piles and piles of paperwork surrounding her. All from different cases spanning over a month. Each case had the same MO, but intelligence never caught the killer. It was like the killer was always two steps ahead of them. And whoever was doing the killings was still out there and that frustrated her. When she took oath, she vowed to protect and serve. So for her to not solve these cases hit her hard.

“Why don’t you go home,” 

She looked up and saw Voight standing in front of her desk. “As much as I’d like to, I want to find the killer. I have to find the killer. I want justice for these victims and their families,”

“We’ll catch whoever did it, but we won’t be able to if you’re tried,” Voight reassured her. 

“True,” She placed all the paperwork in their appropriate folder, and she grabbed her coat off the back of her chair and told Voight to have a goodnight. It was times like this when she was stressed out that she needed a little comfort. The person she knew she could always count on was Greg, a.k.a. Mouse. So instead of heading home, she went straight to his place, which wasn’t too far from hers.

Dragging her feet down the carpeted hall, she knocked on the door of his apartment. Mouse opened the door and greeted her. “Hey! I had a feeling you were coming,”

“Yeah,”

“Come in. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you,” She sat down on the couch and stared at TV in front of her. The spot next to her on the couch dipped as Mouse sat down. 

“What’s going through that head of yours?”

“I just- I’m frustrated. Whenever we get a possible lead, I get excited because maybe, just maybe, we can finally put this sick bastard behind bars. But then this lead gets cold, or just goes nowhere. Let’s not forget that this asshole is always two steps ahead of us. Not solving these cases makes me feel completely and utterly useless as a detective,”

“I happen to think you’re a great detective,” Greg said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“You’re just saying that,”

“I’m not just saying that. You know what I love most about you? Your passion. Your passion to solve these crimes and bring those families some closure,”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Greg smiled, bringing her closer to him. For a moment, everything was quiet. She loved moments like this. 

“You know, when you touch me I feel a little less broken. You make me feel like everything will be okay despite the world being seriously fucked up,”

“It’s sort of my job.” Greg stood up, “Let’s get you to bed. You need all the rest you can get.”

Greg led her down the hall to his bedroom. He tossed her a shirt and a pair of shorts to change into. Once dressed, she crawled into bed and got as close as she could get to him. 

“Thank you, Greg,”

He kissed the top of her head, “No problem, Y/n. No problem,” 

-

Tomorrow is my birthday! :)

Tagging(permanent):

@buckys-sweetheart @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @maliasbubble @sergeantjbuckybarnes @patzammit @yagirlmexic @awkwardfangirl2014 @beckieandhertardis @tinycyberhacker @streetghostfighter07 @distant-illusions @independentgirl @darkunderworldqueen @alisoncdariel

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Anything But Casual: Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz x Reader

          Love...

            That was the only word that you could think of to describe how you felt about Mouse as you sat across from one another in the quiet coffee shop around the corner from his apartment. Before him you had never believed that word. You had thought it was a romantic notion, something that teenagers chased. You had never expected to feel it yourself, to become immersed in it.

            There had been men in your life before but none of them had come close to the way you felt with Mouse. Making love to him had been an almost spiritual experience. You had never connected with someone on such a deep level before.

Your knee bumped against his accidentally under the table, causing Mouse to glance up and cast a small smile in your direction. He placed his hand on your knee, his thumb skating lightly over the indentation through your black jeans.

            “My shirt looks good on you.” he said, drinking in the sight of you in his grey Ramones t-shirt. “I like seeing you in it.”

            “I’ll have to wear it more often.” You told him as the two of you shared a knowing smile.

            Mouse knew what you were implying and you could tell from the way he looked at you that he welcomed it.

            “This isn’t just a casual thing for me.” he  said quietly as he reached out for your hand, threading his fingers with yours.

Your hand covered his as you met his stunning, blue eyes.

“Greg, the way I feel for you is anything but casual.”

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Greg Gerwitz x Reader: His

This is the final chapter of the PTSD!Mouse series. I hope you have enjoyed Mouse’s story. 

Part Ten of PTSD!Mouse Series - Can be read as a stand alone or part of the series.    

Part One: Night Terrors

Part Two: Making Plans

Part Three: Reflection

Part Four: Coming Clean

Part Five: No Pressure

Part Six: Self Care

Part Seven: Lucky

Part Eight: Home

Part Nine: Baby...

        Waking up had never been such a sweet experience for Mouse. The scent of ylang- ylang flooded his nostrils as he stirred underneath his freshly laundered sheets. You were stretched out across his naked chest, your head resting upon his shoulder as your arm draped possessively over his muscular abdomen. Your thumb traced along the curvature of his rib cage, trailing over the thin shrapnel scars that resided there.

        “I like that.” he whispered, his breath ghosting across your hairline, his fingertips combing through the strands tenderly.

        You cuddled up even closer into his loving form, your silky legs entangling with his. The tension that had began to creep it’s way back into his body was starting to subside as Mouse focused on the rise and fall of your chest.

        He was man enough to admit that he had been afraid of waking up alone this morning, that you would come to your senses in the night and realise that you had made a terrible mistake. He had been expecting cold sheets and an absence in both his bed and his heart.

        Instead he’d woken up to languid touches and a feeling of contentment that he had never felt before. For the first time since he’d gotten back from Afghanistan. His head was quiet and he could simply lay back and enjoy the sensation of waking up next to this amazing woman.

            “I know.” you murmured with a teasing lilt as your pert pink lips crept up along the curve of his throat before you pressed a feather light kiss to that soft spot just beneath his ear lobe.

        Mouse moaned out loud, his head tipping back into the pillow as your teeth grazed that naughty little area, your fingertips tracing down along the line of his treasure trail once more. He knew what those dainty little hands of yours could do, his mind flickered back to the way you had touched him last night, how good your fist had felt gripping his dick. He was hard already, his erection throbbing as you allowed your fingers to delve lower, bypassing his cock with nothing more than a graze.

        “Baby...” he drawled the term of endearment as your nails raked up along the inside of his thigh sending a tingle of ecstasy jolting through his nerve endings.

        The combination of both pleasure and pain was exquisite, it raced through his body like an aphrodisiac setting every single one of his synapses ablaze.

        Jesus you hadn't even touched him yet and his cock was already leaking...

        The dominant side of him was coming out to play again. He could feel the soldier in him already demanding that he take you right here, right now. Mouse knew that it was the anxiety from earlier that fuelled it. The soldier in him wanted to make sure you had no reason to leave, that you knew he was the only one who could give you what you craved.

        The urge to claim you again was inherent and savage, Mouse had never known that feeling before. It was wild, striking a primitive cord deep down inside of him.

       He wanted you underneath him, writhing and pleading the same way you had last night when he had brought you to the very brink of climax, edging you before raining open mouthed kisses on your thighs and started all over again.

        Jesus your taste on his lips...

        There was nothing as divine as your sweet, honey flavour on his tongue.

        You laughed when he flipped you onto your back, that gorgeous musical sound resounding through him making the emotion surge in his chest. He’d never seen you as happy as you were right now and he felt a fierce deluge of pride knowing that he had done that, that he was the reason you was so elated.

        Those bright eyes of yours stared back up at him, capturing his gaze and ensnaring him completely. He had never known what it was to give himself over to someone completely, to lose himself in them and he felt himself falling all over again as he lowered his mouth to your pert pink lips.

        There was a sweetness in that kiss, a tenderness that made him feel both cherished and revered. He didn’t know how you did that, how you made him feel so secure, so confident. You hadn’t recoiled in horror at the sight of the vivid red shrapnel scars that sliced across his torso from the bombing of his convoy. You hadn’t flinched when you’d laid eyes on the pink riveted flesh that streaked down his left thigh from when he’d been trapped under that molten hot debris. You knew his story, knew that the physical consequences would be etched into his skin like a picture book and you’d treated each one of them with care. He would never forget the way your lips felt on his skin, your tongue provoking such a gluttonous moans from his throat as you explored each and everyone of them, sucking and licking over the damaged flesh until the only sensation he could associate with them was titillation.

        This woman, he thought.

        Your hands were roaming now, your eager fingertips ghosting over the muscles of back, peppering them with feather light touches, that made him sigh with pleasure.

        This beautiful, loving woman was all his.

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Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz x Reader: No Pressure

        It was late when you and Mouse stepped out of the precinct and into the familiar nightly chill of your city. You could feel the icy wind biting at your cheeks as you drew your shoulders up and scrunched down into the confines of your black, shin length coat.

        “You’re cold.” Mouse stated from underneath the navy blue beanie that was covering his dark hair. He was already unwrapping the blue and white checked scarf from around his throat as you drew to a halt at the bottom of the steps.

        He leaned in close, his dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he looped the scarf over your head and tucked it neatly under your chin. His scent clung to the material as did his body heat, he smelled like cedarwood, that unique blend filling up your nostrils as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. His gloved hands came to rest gently upon the tops of your arms, his thumbs stroking lightly over the curve of your shoulders as the left side of his mouth quirked up into that smile of his, the one that lit up the room whenever he unleashed it. You were standing close together, already you could feel that air around you charge with that unique chemistry as your coats brushed together, the material rustling.

        “It looks good on you.” he said, drawing away and jamming his hands into his pockets as he shuffled in the snow that lined the sidewalk. “You want me to hail you a cab?”

        It was too much, too soon, you thought watching his motions. He was antsy, rocking back and forth on his heels again the same way he did whenever he was anxious. You tucked your own hands into your pockets, shaking your head in response to his question.

        “I literally live five minutes away.” you told him, jerking your thumb in the direction of the street behind you.

        “Five minutes that way?” he reiterated, using his finger to point in the same general area. “That’s the same direction I’m heading. I’ll walk you.”

        Usually you would have laughed it off, reminding him that you had lived in the city your entire life and knew a thing or two about taking care of yourself, instead you didn’t. The truth was you didn’t feel the need to bring out that persona to Mouse, it wasn’t about capability for him and you knew that. You strode side by side, the back of your gloved hands brushing as Mouse discussed the book he was reading ‘1984’ by George Orwell. It was one of his favourites, the book was one that he had read over and over again over the years and he still found himself coming back to it and discovering something new each time. You liked hearing him talk like that, you enjoyed seeing the passion and life in those sky blue eyes of his as you conversed about the relevancy of the novel even in today’s society.

        Your hands skimmed each other again and this time to your surprise, Mouse’s hand caught yours, clasping it gently. You didn’t say anything, instead your allowed your thumb to graze the inside of your wrist. He squeezed your hand reassuringly before opening his mouth to speak.

        “It’s been a really long time since anyone’s held my hand.” he confided to you, your steps becoming slower now in an attempt to stretch out the journey. His confession hit you right in the heart, you could feel it breaking as he held onto your hand just that little bit harder. It tore you up inside to think of how alone this brilliant man must have been. He had never said it out loud during your conversations but you had felt it in the underlying tone. Already you could see your apartment block coming up. For the first time in your life you wished you lived just a little further away. Your steps became slower, faltering as you reached the brightly lit building.

            “I guess we’ll have to do it more often.” you responded softly.

        Mouse turned his head towards you and once again you were ensnared by those gorgeous blue eyes of his and that smile...

        Jesus, it lit up the whole god damned world.

        You were standing at your doorstep now, the end of the road as it were and the truth was you simply weren’t ready to let go just yet.

        “Thanks for walking me home.” you murmured, your dainty hand came to rest upon his broad shoulder for balance as your lips graced his smooth cheek. His hands came to rest upon your hips steadying you as Mouse found himself looking into those gorgeous eyes of yours. He couldn’t deny that you were stunning, your skin all peaches and cream, those pert pink lips of your were parted just begging to be kissed.

        How many times had he dreamed about this moment? How many times had he wished that he was brave enough to take that step, to tell you how he felt. Every time he thought about it, his muscles in his chest would constrict. The thought of you leaving scared the hell out of him. You didn’t know how much your presence meant to him, how you were a grounding force in his life.

        For such a long time he had felt detached from the world, isolated because of the trauma he had suffered. Jay had always been by his side, making sure he put one foot in front of the other, helping him to take control of his life. You was the one that made him actually feel it, you had brought color into a world which had been black and white for such a long time.

        He closed the distance between the two of you, his lips capturing yours. The kiss was everything that Mouse had fantasized about and more. It was like a fire igniting in his veins, a rush of sparks erupting throughout his soul as his fingers combed through your silky hair. He knew the intensity of these emotions should terrify him but to his surprise he didn’t.

        For the first time in a long time he felt every single sensation wholeheartedly and it was bliss.

        His forehead coming to rest on yours as his thumb trailed along the apple of your cheek as he whispered the word ‘Wow’ against the corner of your mouth. You smiled against the palm of his hand, your own dainty fingers still gripping his shoulder tightly.

        “Do you want to come up?” you whispered.

        Jesus he wanted that more than anything in the world. He wanted to spend the night tangled up in your sheets, making you breathe his name over and over again as he made you climax. He wanted that rush of endorphins, in fact he craved it and in the end it was that that stopped him.

         The soldier in him was ready to go, he wanted to fuck away the tragedy, the horror and everything else that went along with it. He wanted that physical release, to reach his peak and for all that pleasure to drown at the noise in his head even if it was only for a little while.

        The man in him wanted so much more than that. He wanted evenings spent sprawled out on the couch reading books or watching TV, drinks at Molly’s that ended with ended with silliness and whisky flavored kisses. Simply put, he wanted you, mind, heart and soul.

        “I want to.” he whispered, his sky blue eyes bright and earnest. “Trust me I want that with you but I need to take this slow...”

        “We can go as slow as you need.” you told him, your palms smoothing over the contours of his jacket. “No pressure.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Greg Gerwitz x Reader: Small Gifts

        The gift was sitting on his desk, it was wrapped in sleek, sky blue wrapping paper with a pretty silver ribbon tied in hap hazard bow. Mouse could already smell the scent of your floral perfume lingering in his workspace and it made him smile to imagine you slipping the parcel onto his desk.

    The surprise was badly wrapped but he didn’t mind, it was the thought that counted and the fact you had been thinking about him at all made his heart beat just that little bit faster in his chest.

    Mouse hung his jacket up on the back of his chair before picking up the rectangular bundle. His hands smoothed over it, fingertips feeling along the edges as he tried to use his skills of deduction to guess what it was.

        A book, he guessed.

        He dropped into his seat, setting the parcel back down onto his desk. His fingers pinched the ribbon, gently tugged it until the bow came undone. He took his time removing the ribbon from the parcel, before working a fingertip underneath the taped fold of the paper. It took a second to coax the tape away from the sleek paper without tearing it.

    He was stunned when he opened up the paper revealing a gorgeous illustrated hardback book.

    The Book of Dust by Phillip Pullman.

    There was a grin spreading across his features as his fingertips run over the embossed gold writing on the cover. He couldn’t believe you had been so thoughtful, he had mentioned in passing over coffee yesterday how much he adored this author and he hadn’t had a chance to pick up what he envisioned was going to be a truly amazing book. The excitement over took him as he flicked open through the pages inhaling that fresh, papery scent.

    He slipped his Iphone out of the back pocket of his jean and used his thumb to unlock the screen and bring up his texts.

        Got your gift. Thank you so much :) Let me repay you by taking you out tonight?

    He was putting himself out on a limb here. The two of you had only ever had coffee together and dinner indicated more, he wanted more, he had for a while now but you…

    He was never sure if his feelings were reciprocated.

    Mouse didn’t have to wait long for your reply. His heart was thundering in his chest as he flicked his thumb across the screen once more.

    See you at 7pm  x

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Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz x Reader: Home

Part Eight of PTSD!Mouse Series - Can be read as a stand alone or part of the series.    

Part One: Night Terrors

Part Two: Making Plans

Part Three: Reflection

Part Four: Coming Clean

Part Five: No Pressure

Part Six: Self Care

Part Seven: Lucky

        Mouse had never been to the Adler Planetarium, he hadn’t been aware that the place existed until you had parked up outside. Now that he was here...

    Mouse couldn’t think of a time he had been happier. His brilliant blue eyes were fixated on the pinpricks of stars that shone in the night time sky above them. He’d lost track of how long the two of you had been laying here on the red and white picnic blanket that had been handed to you on the way into the exhibition. His fingers were still entwined with yours, he could feel your soothing presence next to him as his thumb traced along the inside of your hand.

    He’d never felt as at peace as he did in this moment. He had missed this, missed that sensation of awe and wonder that he had always gotten when he looked up at the sky and saw the stars. The city was always too bright, too dazzling but back in Afghanistan he remembered the time he spent soaking up the beauty of it all. It made him realise that there was something bigger out there, that there was more to life than existing inside that tiny sphere that surrounded you and your life. It made him feel connected again, like there were ebbs of the person he was and the person he was becoming all flowing in the same direction.

    “You gave me the stars.” he said in a hushed tone, his gaze transfixed to the constellations above him.

    “You once told me they helped you feel grounded.” You said softly, recounting a conversation from a few months past. “I wanted you to feel like that again, to feel like there’s more...”

    He remembered that conversation. He rarely talked about Afghanistan with anyone outside of Jay and his therapist so when he spoke to you...

    It had come from a place of trust, it had been the first time he had put his faith in anybody else outside of that tiny circle. You’d held it like a gift in your hands and given him something beautiful in return. He couldn’t say how much he treasured this, he couldn’t describe how wonderful it felt to be in the presence of someone who genuinely wanted to make his world a better place.

    The words he wanted to say where there on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t bring himself to speak them. Too much, too soon, he reasoned. He couldn’t tell you that he had fallen in love with you, that he had been falling ever since the day the two of you had met. It had taken him a long time to come to terms with the fact he was someone you might want to be with, that he worthy of love at all.

    “Thank you.” he whispered pouring every single ounce of the emotion that he was feeling into that phrase as he spoke. “Thank you so much.”

    ——————————-

    You weren’t surprised to see how neat and orderly Mouse’s apartment was. You had seen the same regimented organisation from your father when he had come home from his own war. It was a mind set, you understood.

    Tidy place, tidy mind. It helped to compartmentalize, your father had told you, helped to sort things out in your head.

    You lingered by the wooden bookcase, your fingertip running over the spines of each novel as you surveyed the titles. To your surprise there were several fantasy novels lining the lower shelves, Game of Thrones, David Eddings...

    Your eyes flickered to the shelf above, it consisted mostly of Sci-Fi. Authors like Iain Banks made an appearance. You stopped when you reached Aldous Huxley ‘s ‘Brave New World’, plucking it from it’s space amongst the others of it’s kind. You’d read it before, a couple of years ago, it was an excellent companion piece to George Orwell’s 1984. The copy you held in your hand was well worn, like it had been read over and over again. You flicked through it, pausing when you reached a Polaroid photograph that had been jammed between the pages as a bookmark you presumed.

    It was a picture of Mouse and Jay, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders as they sat side by side. They were dressed in the usual military attire, fatigues and matching shirts, dog tags glinting in the sun. Mouse was laughing, his eyes were crinkled up at the corners, his head thrown back clearly amused by whatever Jay was saying. His hair was shorter in these pictures, longer than a buzz cut but still in keeping with the military term of style. Your thumb smoothed over his handsome features, your lips twitching up at the expression on his handsome features. He looked so young here, so carefree. The horrors of the world, of that war they hadn’t touched him yet.

    “That’s where that got to.” Mouse uttered as he stepped up beside you a cup of decaffeinated tea in either hand.

    “It’s a good picture.” You told him, replacing the book back in it’s normal place before setting the photograph down upon the shelf where Mouse could retrieve it later.

    “I use them as book marks sometimes.” he revealed handing you the cup of tea before guiding you towards the comfortable navy blue couch.

    “I remember, you think bending the corners of the page is sacrilege.” you commented as you took a seat upon the couch, sighing in delight as you lounged back against the plush cushions.

    Mouse lingered for a moment, his blue eyes fixed on you watching as you sipped from the mug in your hands. You looked like you belonged here, on his sofa, in his apartment. He knew he’d made the right decision inviting you back. Despite the connotations, there was no pressure, you were happy to sit and talk if that’s what he wanted.

    What he wanted...

    He’d given a lot of thought to that over the past few days. He wanted you, there was no doubt in his mind about that but it was more than just physical, the way he felt for you...

    There was no way he could vocalise that right now. He could get lost in you, Mouse wanted that more than anything. He wanted to give you every single part of himself, the good and the bad. You would take it all, you had made that clear tonight when you had kissed him back on the steps at the precinct, when you had taken him to the planetarium and the two of you had stared up at the stars. He could have everything he ever wanted but he was scared to take it, to let himself be with someone in that way.

    Knowing something and actually seeing it were two very different things. Sleeping next to him, experiencing those nightmares first hand, he didn’t know if he could inflict that on someone else.

    Your delicate hand reached out, slipping into his as if it had always belonged there. That anxiety he was feeling, it seemed to evaporate whenever you touched him, all he could see was that beautiful, serene face staring up at him under those dark eyelashes of yours. He lowered himself onto the couch, placing his cup of tea upon the sturdy wooden coffee table.

    “I’m scared.” he found himself telling you as he looked into those gorgeous eyes of yours.

    “Talk to me.” you requested, propping your head up with your free hand upon the sofa. “Tell me what’s running though your mind.”

    “You...” he told her, his fingertips smoothing a stray strand of your silky hair back behind your ear. His brilliant blue gaze fixated on those those pretty features of yours, the way your mouth quirked up into a smile at his words. “... I don’t understand how you can be so perfect for me.”

    “We just fit.” you told him, looking down at your entwined fingers. “There’s something about being with you. It feels like...” you trailed off as you searched for the word unable to select the one that encompassed everything you felt when you were around this amazing man.

    “Home.” Mouse supplied quietly.

    “Yes.” You murmured, leaning in just that little bit closer. His eyes closed as he inhaled your sweet floral scent, your pert pink lips brushing the corner of his mouth as you spoke. “You feel like home.”

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Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz x Reader: Self Care

Part Six of PTSD!Mouse Series - Can be read as a stand alone or part of the series.    

Part One: Night Terrors

Part Two: Making Plans

Part Three: Reflection

Part Four: Coming Clean

Part Five: No Pressure

In his dreams it was perfect, the two of you were always perfect.

        His palms skating over those solicitous curves, fingers stroking over that pretty flesh as he kissed those pert pink lips of yours. Your scent was in his nostrils, that unique soft smell of ylang-ylang from the Estee Lauder perfume that you always wore. He treasured that fragrance, it flooded him like an aphrodisiac as the sound of your needy whimpers echoed in his ears as he drove you to completion...

        Mouse woke up to the sound of his alarm blaring in his ear. He groaned out loud, his face buried in his plush pillow as he lay on his stomach, stirring underneath his plaid sheets. To his surprise he was hard, painfully hard. His hand shot out, flailing for his phone. His nimble fingers skimmed across the lock screen, silencing the alarm before he rolled onto his back. His forearm came up to cover his eyes, shielding them away from the ray of sunlight that was streaming through the open blinds.

        Last night he had slept. For the first time he had made it through the night without any nightmares, he had woken up somewhat peacefully without that huge pressure constricting his chest. He gazed down at the tented sheet, the edges of his mouth twitching up as he took in his throbbing erection. He’d lost track of how long it had been since that had actually happened.

        Sexual dysfunction was a common symptom of PTSD. Mouse had been surprised to learn that more than eighty percent of male vets reported to have suffered from it and he hated to admit that he was one of them. There wasn’t anything physically wrong with him in that respect, popping a blue pill didn’t help when the problem was all in your head.

        The truth was it had been hard to connect with people when he had gotten back, it had taken over a year to forge any type of meaningful relationship with anyone, if he didn’t count Jay. He’d withdrawn completely, locking down most of his emotions because he simply didn’t want to feel anymore. He enjoyed the numbness, it was better than the constant fear and anguish he endured on a daily basis. Those times when he couldn’t block them out he self medicated.

        It was only lately he had allowed himself to open up. With Jay’s help and therapy he had begun to engage. He talked more now, he laughed, he shared his experiences with people who he deemed his friends, who thought of him the same way. His fear of intimacy, of being close to other people had started to subside and he had actually started to look forward to social events. He was back to being an active participant in his life instead of someone who simply let it pass him by.

        His cock was still throbbing, seemly making up for lost time instead of losing momentum the way he had expected it to after a couple of minutes. His skin was still sensitive, pricking with desire as he allowed his fingertips to trail down his bare chest until his hand dipped under the sheets. He hadn’t felt like this in such a long time.  

        The thrill of anticipation vibrated through him. It was stronger than he remembered, like a heat tearing through him as his hand slipped under the waistband of his sweatpants engulfing his leaking cock.

        He moaned out loud at the sensation, his eyes closing as his head tipped back to the pillow. He thought of you again, of your fingers threading in his hair as he kissed his way down your sensuous form. He imagined how wet you would be from his teasing, how good you would taste on his lips, the noises you would make when he sucked at your clit before fucking you with his tongue.

        The orgasm was like a tidal wave rushing through every single one of his synapses as he thrust into his hand once more. The moan from his throat was guttural, coming from a deviant place, deep down inside of him that he had long forgotten. It seemed to last a lifetime, that glorious pleasure coursing through his body like a wildfire until he was left spent, twisted up amongst his sheets, the sound of his own ragged breathing resounding through the room.

        Fuck, he thought as he sunk back into his pillows. If that was all just in his head what the hell would the real thing feel like?

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Finally gotten around to completing:

The final part of PTSD!Mouse!!!