A dumping ground for all the fics that happen to fall out of my brain. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I read House of Hunger and now it lives rent free in my mind
Over 18 only MDNI
(30s . GMT . she/her)
Fic Masterlist . AO3 . ko-fi
Plot Summary : It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man of dwindling fortune, will do whatever it takes to replenish his coffers. Even if that means seeking a suitable marriage match for his sister against her wishes. After arranging for you to spend the season with affluent Mr Castle of Netherton Park, your world is turned upside down. Not by Mr Castle as your brother intended, but by his roguish adopted brother Captain Russo.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing of note. All chapters will contain some mention of arranged marriages, age gap, and the gender imbalances/misogyny of the Regency Era. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 3.4k
A/N : this is a little shorter than usual but I wanted to post something because it's bee a really long time. Work and this heatwave have made it really difficult to get anything done lately.
Chapter List : Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three
Chapter Four
"This one," Miss Page said, holding up yet another ribbon to contrast the colour with your hair. "This one is perfect."
You'd been distracted all morning — but how could you not be after what had happened last night?
Your mind was torn between the memory of his face, the way he'd kissed you, and the strange pleasure that he'd brought you to, and the way you'd felt when he'd left you all alone.
You were more aware than ever of the sensitive flesh between your thighs. Captain Russo had sparked something inside of you and, even now, hours later, the embers were still burning. That heat was a stark contrast to the empty, icy feeling in your chest.
He'd kissed you, unravelled the part of you that dared to hope for love and romance, and then he'd just left you. The Captain had walked away, leaving you confused and feeling such acute abandonment that it had become a physical ache in your heart. It was enough to make you wonder if he was every bit the scoundrel that your brother and Mr Castle had painted him as.
"She's right, that's a fine colour," Mr Castle stated.
You were on his arm while Miss Page walked freely and unchaperoned as, you had gathered, was the American way. (Oh to be so free.) Miss Page had done most of the talking from the carriage ride to the streets of the city as you shopped. She didn't seem to notice or care that you never had much to say in response.
Mr Castle was putting up a valiant effort to not look bored out of his wits, and tried to involve himself in conversation, though you could tell he thought picking out ribbons was a silly and trivial matter. Still, he made an effort and you wondered if this was supposed to mark the beginning of your arranged courtship.
You didn't ask, of course. It would be mortifying to be told yes just as much as it would if he said no.
"You're right," you said, trying to keep your thoughts confined to the moment. "It's a very fine colour, though... I have nothing to match it.
It was the most you'd said in at least five minutes and Miss Page looked ready to deflate and give up entirely.
"Then perhaps Miss Page and I can help you find something to match?" Mr Castle offered.
Whether it was for your benefit or Miss Page's didn't really matter.
"I'm not sure my brother —"
"I'm certain Ethan would want his sister looking her best, especially for tomorrow night's ball," Miss Page said.
"Tomorrow night —"
"Karen," Mr Castle said in a warning tone, "you know he hasn't agreed to that."
"He hasn't agreed to that yet," Miss Page said before turning her full attention back to you.
After a little more persuasion, you decided to purchase the ribbon and Miss Page promised she wouldn't rest until you had the perfect dress to go with it. Mr Castle was less enthusiastic to be led between dress fitters but it quickly became apparent that there was nothing he would deny Miss Page when she asked nicely enough.
Uncomfortable thoughts from the night before started to resurface as you listened to them talk and laugh with each other. Despite the fact that you were on Mr Castle's arm, it was the American who held his attention, and no amount of feigned interest in your choice of ribbons or dresses would change that.
At least, you supposed, if you did marry Mr Castle, you would only have to put up with feeling like his second choice once a year — or however many times Miss Page chose to visit.
Once you had found your dress, it was Miss Page's turn. And, as it happened, she was far more discerning than you when it came to things like style, colour and cut.
Of course, Mr Castle was more than happy to wait while she tried on dress after dress, and you felt politely obliged not to point out that you hadn't wanted to spend your day in the city stuck indoors.
The shopkeeper offered you chairs while you waited and, for a time, you were content to sit and wait. But the minutes ticked by, and the world outside kept moving. Morning turned to noon and you found yourself looking for a reason to move. There was only so long you could sit and act demure, smiling and nodding every time Mr Castle deigned to make some passing comment to you, no doubt due to his own boredom.
Finally, you struck upon an idea, though it took you a few minutes to act on it.
You stood slowly and glanced out the shop window.
"I noticed there's a bakery across the way," you said as casually as you could. "I was thinking I might go and get a sweet bun while Miss Page finishes her fitting."
Though you were a full grown woman, you found yourself bracing for his refusal, demanding that you sit and stay. Instead he raised an eyebrow and followed your gaze towards the window. For a second you thought he might offer to escort you, then he shrugged.
"Don't wander too far," Mr Castle warned. "Your brother wouldn't be happy if I lost you."
You couldn't tell if he was joking but you still offered up a polite laugh and wasted no time in heading for the door.
Outside, you breathed a sigh of relief, glad to finally —
Any and all thought stopped dead the second you saw him standing across the street, looking at you, watching you. Captain Russo. His expression softened and he offered what you might think was a shy smile if you didn't know better. Then, with a nod of his head, he directed you towards a little side street before vanishing down it.
You considered for a moment, remembering the ache he'd left you with last night. Perhaps it would be best if you avoided him, only... how would he know that you were avoiding him if you didn't at least tell him as much? It seemed only right and proper to let him know and, hopefully, put an end to whatever madness had possessed the pair of you in the library.
Through the window, you could see that Mr Castle's attention was firmly with Miss Page, so you started across the street, giving only a brief cautious glance behind before slipping into the side street.
His hand was on your arm before you could so much as gasp, pulling you away from the hustle and bustle of the main street and away from prying eyes. You found yourself turned to face him, and you couldn't tell if the pounding in your chest was for him or because of the precarious situation he'd put you in.
If anyone was to catch the two of you together like this...
"I wanted to see you," he said, fingers still lingering on your arm.
"Your brother is just across the street." It wasn't what you wanted to say, but it seemed prudent to remind him.
"I know." His head hung forward. "You have no idea what it does to me to see you on his arm, paraded around as if he won you."
"He's just being a gentleman."
A bitter laugh tore from the Captain. "If he was being a gentleman he wouldn't have let you out of his sight. His attention would be entirely on you, instead he chose to stay with Karen."
"I don't need an escort to get sweet buns," you remarked indignantly, choosing to ignore the comment about Miss Page.
"No, because you're a free spirit like me," he said, smiling.
He cupped your cheek and, despite wanting nothing more than to lean into his touch, you shrank back. The Captain frowned and tried again. This time you took a step away.
"Have I done something to upset you? If I've offended you, you must know that it wasn't my intention," he said as he countered your step backwards with a step of his own.
Your cheeks burned with shame, unable to put into words what you had hoped he already understood. While you weren't entirely sure what had happened last night, you knew how it had felt when he'd left you alone and trembling with a bitter pleasure.
"I'm not a toy for your amusement, Captain," you said.
You took a step to the left, trying to move around him. He mirrored your movement and blocked your path. Then you stepped right and, still, he refused to let you pass.
"Is that what you think you are to me? A toy? An amusement?"
You shied away as he reached for you again, but his fingers still found your cheek and tenderly brushed a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. He held you in place with just his gaze, and your heart stuttered as you got lost in his dark eyes.
"You had your fun, then you left me," you confessed in a voice so small it hardly sounded like your own. "What happened last night could destroy my reputation — everything you've done so far could destroy my reputation — and you don't even seem to care."
He was silent for a beat, his throat working as he swallowed down the truth.
"I left to protect you.' He leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours, words little more than a whisper.
"Protect me from what?" You asked, lowering your voice to match his as if the moment was too fragile for raised voices.
"From me."
It was infuriating how little the answer gave you. It felt like a baited trap, an attempt to use your curiosity to snare you.
"If you wish to protect me from your... urges, then perhaps you should keep your distance, Captain." you said, finally remembering why you'd followed him in the first place. "It seems all we're capable of doing is causing each other distress. So, I suggest we stay away from each other from now on."
You had wanted to sound more resolute, more certain, but how could you when he was looking at you like his world began and ended with you?
You barely knew him. Even if your afternoon wandering the grounds of Netherton was the longest you'd ever spent alone in the company of an eligible man, there were still so many things you didn't know, things that you wanted to know about him.
"I would if I could," he said, cupping your cheek again. This time you didn't pull away. "Compared to my brother, I have nothing to offer you — no fortune, no comfortable future, and your brother would oppose me courting you — but, still, I find myself drawn to you.
He leaned closer and you braced yourself for a kiss that never came. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes.
"I wish I could explain it," he said softly, "I wish there was a way to make you understand..."
"Understand, what?"
"The connection I feel to you, how you feel like a splash of colour in an otherwise grey world..."
The words made your heart flutter and your own eyes close. It was like something out of one of the romantic poems you so loved, and you wished that you could just accept it without reservation. But there were too many questions, too many doubts in your mind.
"We hardly know each other," you said.
"Courtships have started from less."
He was right, but you weren't courting the Captain. You couldn't. Not when you were all but promised to Mr Castle.
"He doesn't see you," the Captain continued. "He only sees your brother's burden, he —"
"Burden?"
Is that how he saw you? Was that how they all saw you? Ethan's burdensome sister, so close to becoming a spinster, so unwanted.
You tried to shove him away, but he barely moved. When you slammed your hands against his chest a second time, he caught you by the wrists and pinned your arms against the wall on either side of your head. You twisted in his grasp, trying to escape but not once considering screaming. You wanted to get away from him, but you didn't want to get him into any kind of trouble.
More than anything you wanted to get away from him because you hoped your walking away would pain him the way his words had pained you.
"Stop," he said. "Please — I didn't mean it like that."
"Then what did you mean, Captain? How could I possibly be expected to take your words any other way?" You tried to force a measured tone, but there was no hiding the hurt. "Do you think I don't know how my brother sees me? How men like you see me? An unmarried woman of my age?"
"No, that's not what I meant," he said in a voice as close to pleading as he could muster.
"Do you think this is the life I wanted for myself? To be foisted onto my brother's oldest friend and —"
His lips slanted over yours, silencing you. Like every other kiss you'd shared, it was sudden enough to stun you, and once it started — once you felt the desperation behind it — you found it impossible to remember why you'd been angry with him in the first place.
He kept hold of your wrists, but all the fight drained from you in an instant.
As much as you hated it, you wanted to be wanted by him. You wanted to pretend that the things he'd told you could be real, if only for this snatched moment.
"You are not the burden," he muttered against your lips. "He is. He always has been."
You weren't given time to ask what Captain Russo meant. His lips crashed into yours again and you were left feeling like you might float away. The he was clearly Ethan, but what burdens did your brother have?
It was hard to care when the Captain was stealing the very breath from your lungs, kissing you like he may never get to again. And... there was a part of you that felt vindicated for all the thoughts you'd had about your brother and the way he lived. Finally, you'd found someone who saw Ethan as you did.
But time was not on your side and the Captain knew it.
The kiss broke and his head dropped to your shoulder.
"Captain..."
"William," he corrected.
"I... I can't," you said softly. "They'll be missing me."
"I'll miss you."
Your heart lurched at the rawness in his tone. It made no sense how he could unravel you with so few words, but it was almost enough to make you want to linger a little longer. But even he seemed to realise how that was a bad idea.
He released your wrists but you didn't put your hands down, instead you tenderly held his face and stared into his eyes, trying to make sense of him.
"I don't understand you," you said.
"I know, but I hope that one day you will." He gave you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before taking a step back. "You should go. I'll see you tonight at dinner."
He took another step, and left you aching to reach for him and steal just one more moment, but you'd tarried long enough.
Though, as it happened, by the time you'd slipped from the side street and into the bakery to purchase a sweet bun, and then returned to the dress makers, you were barely noticed. And, for the next half hour, you sat in silence beside Mr Castle, staring longingly out of the window, hoping for one little glimpse of the Captain.
But, of course, you didn't.
Instead you had to make do with the promise that you'd see him at dinner. Giddy sort of thrill filled you as the hours ticked by, wanting to be near him again.
But he wasn't at dinner.
You arrived in the dining room first and took a seat, patiently waiting for everyone else. Mr Castle appeared first, then Miss Page, and finally Ethan. They sat and food was served.
"Is the Captain not dining with us tonight?" You dared to ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.
"My brother has business to attend to," Mr Castle answered between mouthfuls.
"Business?" Remarked Ethan with a snort. "Is that what he's calling his women these days?"
Mr Castle shot him a warning look and you did your best to ignore the sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.
"What? We all know the man has no morals — you should know that better than anyone, Frank," Ethan continues.
"There are ladies present," Mr Castle.
"You always think the worst of him," Miss Page said.
"Because he's only ever given us reason to think the worst."
"You're not still sore about him breaking your nose, are you?" Mr Castle asked. "It was over fifteen years ago, Ethan."
"You never did tell me why he broke your nose," Miss Page added.
You remembered Ethan coming home from school with a black eye and a healed nose at the end of term. You remembered your mother fussing and your father writing a letter to the school, demanding the boy responsible faced the harshest punishment. You also remembered hearing that the other boy was expelled, though it wasn't clear whether it had been over that incident.
You were silent as the conversation continued on; Ethan didn't offer up much of an explanation, just that he had called the Captain out for being a scoundrel and it had ended in a fight. Whenever they spoke of the Captain, it didn't sound like the man you knew — but, then, you had to concede that you really didn't know him. Not like they did.
After dinner, you excused yourself but, on the way to your room, you felt a strange pull towards the library, the faintest spark of hope still burning within you. If you could see him, you could ask him about what Ethan had revealed and try to find the truth of the matter.
Unfortunately, you found the library empty.
You lingered for almost an hour before giving up hope that he would magically appear and silence all the questions in your head. But, as you went to leave the library, you heard voices in the corridor.
"You've been at Netherton with him before," Miss Page said.
You peered through a crack in the doorway and caught sight of her red hair.
"That was without my sister." Ethan.
"What difference does that make?"
"I don't want him to ruin things for her — for me," your brother said. "He has form for seducing young women, especially young women who've been promised to someone else. And it wouldn't be the first time he's bedded a woman to hurt Frank."
"Is that what happened fifteen years ago? Is that why they don't speak?"
If Ethan gave an answer, you didn't hear it.
"I won't let him ruin my sister just to hurt me and Frank," Ethan said after a lengthy silence. "Frank says he's no doubt squandered his inheritance, and I don't want him seducing my sister for her money. Lord knows she’s silly enough to fall for it, what with all her notions of romance. She’d be an easy mark for a man like Russo..."
Their voices faded the further they got from the library and, while a part of you wanted to dismiss everything said as just Ethan being Ethan. He'd never had a kind word to say about anyone, always ready to judge and point out their worst traits while remaining oblivious to his own. But there was more going on than what you'd been able to discover, some deeper mystery that seemed to exist between Ethan, Mr Castle and the Captain.
If you were going to continue to find yourself in scandalous situations with the man, you were going to have to find out just how bad the truth was.
That is, if you even ever saw him again...
A/N : I'm toying with the idea of maybe doing shorter chapters like this for a while if it means I can start posting regularly again -- it's honestly driving my crazy not having a schedule at the moment but between work, the dog, and the fact that it hit 32 degrees c here this week, I'm on the struggle bus atm. Next week is stock take at work too, which is going to be an ordeal but, hopefully after that my hours will go back to normal. Anyway, hope you like this chapter and that if you're experiencing a heatwave where you are that you remember to stay hydrated!
New chapters will hopefully be posted weekly (I'm being kinder to myself an not imposing such a strict deadline with this one). Let me know if you want to be tagged.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18
Plot Summary : When your boyfriend turns out to be cheating piece of shit, two alphas come to your rescue. One tells you he won't keep you and the other wants nothing to do with you, but that doesn't stop the pull you feel towards them. The closer you get, the more you discover about them, and about yourself.
Pairing : Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader / Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour and mentions of cheating. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, love triangle(ish), and explicit smut. There is an unspecified age gap between Alphas and reader. All characters are a little darker than usual. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 6.6k
A/N : Yep, everyone is definitely an asshole in this one 😂
Chapter Two
The dull, thrumming ache between your thighs was the first thing you noticed when you finally woke up.
You hadn't slept the whole night through — after the first round of sex, you'd dozed for an hour or so, before waking to find him still naked next to you. One thing quickly led to another, and you'd ended up on top of him, riding him hard. He hadn't even pulled out when you collapsed on his chest and drifted off again.
The third time, he'd settled behind you, slipping inside you with ease. He muttered in your ear, telling you how perfect you felt and how good you were being. He took his time, fucking you with a slow purpose, bringing you an entirely new kind of pleasure.
(Keep us, keep us, keep us, your hindbrain had chanted — and, honestly, you couldn't be sure that the words didn't leave your lips too.)
So, when you woke, you felt thoroughly fucked in a way you'd never experienced before. But, more than that, you actually felt sated. The part of you that craved and needed physical intimacy was silent. You didn't roll over to reach for him, desperate for another round, and you didn't slip your hand between your legs as you'd done so many mornings as Rick snored beside you.
You were... content.
Snuggling down beneath the thin sheet, you breathed in his scent and the scent of what you'd spent the night doing. It was enough to have you finally rolling onto your side, hand searching the bed for him.
Only, he wasn't there.
You were alone.
Sitting up, you glanced around the room. His bedroom. The door to the en-suite was open and he was nowhere to be seen. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 13:27 and you felt a wave of embarrassment. He'd probably been gone for hours and you hadn't even noticed.
Your body ached as you sat, clutching the sheet to your naked form, looking around for your clothes, but your dress was nowhere to be found. All you could find were the tattered remains of your panties, set aside like a trophy atop a set of drawers.
You waited a few more minutes, hoping that Steve would return, but the house seemed silent around you. You couldn't just stay in bed waiting for him all day. Besides that, you really needed to pee.
Pulling the sheet with you, you slipped into the en-suite, taking a moment to glance around first at the large claw-foot bathtub, then the large shower cubicle. The room itself was bigger than your bedroom...
Or, well, not your bedroom anymore, you supposed since you didn't have a home to go to.
You did what you needed to do and lingered for a few minutes, cleaning yourself up while casually looking over Steve's things, indulging yourself and sniffing a few of his toiletries. It was no wonder he smelled so good. During the course of your snooping, you found his laundry hamper and decided to grab the shirt on the top of the pile.
Enveloped in his scent, you wanted nothing more than to return to bed and wait for him to return, hoping that he'd fuck you again. (And again, and again.) But you couldn't. For all you knew, he was waiting for you somewhere else in the house, desperate to get rid of you now that he'd had his fill.
It was a sobering thought and exactly what you needed.
With your panties torn and ruined, you had no choice but to slip out of his room in nothing but his shirt. Thankfully it came down to your knees but as you walked through the long corridor you still felt practically naked.
You hadn't noticed just how big the house was last night but now, in the cold light of day, you realised that house probably wasn't the right word. Mansion was more like it.
You turned a corner that led onto a landing with a double staircase, one to your left the other, closer to your right. Glancing over the banister, you looked down at the large entrance hall and spotted someone. She had her back to you, so you cleared your throat as you made your way down stairs, alerting her to your presence.
A maid, you realised. The house was so big they had a maid.
She looked at you like it was perfectly normal to have a half-naked omega roaming the halls of the house. Maybe it was, maybe you were just the most recent in a long line. Fuck, could this day get any worse?
"Sorry, I'm looking for —"
"Mr Barnes is the only one here right now and he's in the kitchen," she said with a friendly enough smile but the tone of someone who had better things to be doing. When she noticed your confusion, she waved her hand. "Down there, last door on the right."
You muttered your thanks and started towards the kitchen, hoping that Mr Barnes was Steve and that he'd at least offer you some breakfast before kicking you out.
Your heart sank at the sight of Bucky, leaning over the counter, waiting for the coffee machine.
You stepped back, wanting to retreat before he noticed you, but —
"Morning, doll. Want a coffee?"
The tone of his voice should have bothered you almost as much as the smug smile on his lips, but something else caught your attention, something you hadn't noticed the night before.
His arm.
Or... not his arm. It was a metallic prosthetic.
What had happened to him?
Fuck, was it offensive to want to know? Were you staring? Why were you staring? Oh god, did he know you were staring?
Swallowing around the lump that had firmly lodged itself in your throat, you managed to nod. "Uh, yeah, coffee would be great."
If he noticed or cared that you had been staring at his arm, he didn't let it show. He just turned his attention back to the coffee maker. "You take it with cream or sugar?"
You remained in the doorway, warily eyeing his back — and not at all taking in the way his tight tee-shirt showed off his toned body.
(Imagine digging our nails into those shoulders, that voice in your head crooned, holding on tight as he fucks us.)
You couldn't tell if it was the fact he was being nice to you or the very real idea that spending a night with an alpha had rewired you on some baser level, but it took everything you had to keep your distance from him.
"Yes," you said, then, "both. Three spoons of sugar, please."
He gave a soft laugh that sent a strange thrill through you.
(Yes, make him happy. Make him want us.)
"That's a lot of sugar for someone who's already so sweet." A cold shiver crawled down your spine, both from his words and the way he looked at you when he turned, mug in hand. There was a hunger in his eyes that was all alpha. "Here you go, doll."
He didn't hand you the mug, he just placed it down on the counter beside him, waiting for you to go to him.
It felt like a trap.
You lingered in the doorway for a few seconds, torn between refusing the coffee and getting out of there, and showing him that, whatever this was, he wasn't going to get to you. Stubborn pride had you going for the second option, and you instantly regretted it.
His nose twitched as you took that first step, then the corner of his lips tugged upwards. Your quick attempt at cleaning yourself up clearly hadn't been enough to beat his sensitive alpha senses.
"So, was it everything you hoped it'd be?" He asked before you could even reach for the mug. His gaze slid down your body, the look so brazen that it almost felt like a physical caress trailing down to your bare legs and back up again. "I could hear you, you know. With the way you were moaning, anyone would think you'd never been fucked by an alpha before."
Your cheeks heated and your thighs pressed together of their own volition. It didn't take long for him to put two and two together, his grin growing wider.
"Shit, no wonder you were so eager." He stood away from the counter and took the smallest of steps to put himself between you and the door. "No wonder you were so willing to put out for an alpha who won't keep you."
You turned and shifted, trying to create some space between you, only to find yourself backed into a corner. Pressing yourself back, you tried to keep your head high, defiant, but you made the mistake of taking a steadying breath, breathing in his scent. Your head swam as he closed the distance, stopping in front of you and caging you in with hands on either side of you.
If you screamed, would someone come to help you?
(Why would we scream?)
"I can't blame him," Bucky muttered, bowing his head and pressing his face into the crook of your neck, just as he had last night. He inhaled and your legs trembled. "You smell fucking delicious."
"You're a pig," you said, but your words lacked any sharpness.
He was disgusting. The whole situation was disgusting but — fuck, you could already feel that familiar, needy heat blooming inside you.
"I think you like it. I think you get off on me treating you like shit," he continued, pressing closer, letting the tip of his nose graze the length of your gland.
It was so brazen and unexpected that you froze, letting him press as close as he wanted.
"N-no. You're wrong," you said in a breathless whisper. "I think you're disgusting."
"Liar," he said, taking another deep inhale. "You're dripping under that shirt. I can smell it. Did he not satisfy you last night? Did the good guy routine not do it for you? Were you faking all of those screams?"
Stubble scratched against your sensitive skin as he pressed a wet kiss to your gland. You let slip a keening whine, unable to control yourself. Another deep breath filled your lungs with his scent, distracting you as he lifted you and placed you on the counter.
Bucky stepped between your legs and you felt the cold press of metal trailing up your thigh — his fingers. He was slipping his fingers between your legs.
"He won't keep you," he muttered again, his tongue slipping out to lave your gland, causing your whole body to jolt, trying to push closer to him. "But, before he lets you go, I'm sure we'll have plenty of fun with you."
(Yes, yes, yes — oh fuck, yes, your hindbrain cried, fighting to overwhelm your common sense.)
At some point you'd raised your hands to push him away, but now they just sat on his strong chest, gripping his shirt, unable to let go. You were at the mercy of your biology as his fingers reached the apex of your thighs and a single metal digit ran through your embarrassingly slick folds.
"Did he tell you that we share sometimes?" He muttered against your neck with another wet kiss while his finger teased your clit. "Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Two alpha's fucking your tight little —"
He pulled back, leaving you dazed and barely breathing, an uncontrollable want thrumming through every fibre of your being. You let him go, though your hindbrain mourned the loss of his touch. It wasn't until he'd returned to his spot by the coffee maker that you had the sense to close your legs.
Just in time for Steve to appear.
Steve looked at you, then at Bucky.
"What did you do?" He asked, not sounding angry, just put out.
"Nothing," Bucky grunted. Steve's gaze hardened and fraction and Bucky headed to the door. "If you don't want to share her, you should've said."
Steve stepped aside, letting Bucky leave. His gaze followed after the other alpha before slowly turning back to you, taking in the sight of you in his shirt, perched on the edge of the counter.
"Sorry about him."
"What's his problem, anyway?" You asked, slipping off the counter as casually as you could manage.
Steve let out a laugh. "That's a long story, sweetheart."
Ignoring the way your legs were trembling, you grabbed the coffee Bucky had made for you and took a slow drink, watching as Steve moved closer.
This time you didn't shrink back — when Steve moved towards you, it didn't feel like a predator hunting its prey — you watched him over your mug, and let him cage you against the counter just as Bucky had.
The thrum you felt inside of you was different with Steve. You still felt an uncontrollable want but it wasn't enough to render you senseless.
You kept drinking until he plucked the mug from your hand and put it back on the counter. His arms slipped around you and, before you could even think to ask what he was doing, he kissed you.
His tongue pressed against the seam of your lips and you eagerly parted for him, letting him kiss you with a deep hunger that quickly reignited the sparks that Bucky had lit inside you. There was something primal and claiming to it, like he was trying to wipe away whatever might have just happened between you and Bucky, like he knew but he didn't care.
And you let him. You gave yourself to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him close.
It didn't last and, despite your hindbrain wanting nothing more than to be bent over the kitchen counter and fucked within an inch of your life, Steve pulled back. But he didn't go far. His hand took yours and he all but pulled you from the kitchen.
You eagerly followed after, assuming that he was taking you back to bed, but instead of turning right at the top of the stairs, he turned left, leading you in the opposite direction from his bedroom.
You wanted to ask where he was taking you and what was going on. More importantly, you wanted to ask if he knew what Bucky had just done — you wanted to understand their dynamic and what Bucky had meant about sharing. Was that what you were there for, or would Steve see it as a betrayal if anything happened between you and Bucky?
Packs were always complicated. It was why you'd never considered joining one. In some packs omegas could belong to their alphas or to the whole pack. You weren't sure how Bucky and Steve worked — hell, you weren't even sure how many people were in their pack.
But Steve must have known. Not only did he seem to know Bucky well, he must have been able to smell him on you...
So, clearly that meant that he wasn't angry about it.
Your thoughts stopped as you were pulled into a bedroom. It was smaller than Steve's room, empty, with nothing more than a bed, a wardrobe, and a set of drawers. There was a door leading out onto a balcony and, beyond that, in the distance you could see the city.
He let go of your hand and turned to face you.
"What do you think?" He asked.
You gave him a confused look. "Of what?"
"The room — your room."
"My..."
Words failed you. There were too many things you wanted to ask, so many things you wanted to say. He was just giving you a place to stay? Why couldn't you stay in his room with him? From the way he'd kissed you in the kitchen he clearly still wanted you...
"You need a place to stay and we've got plenty of space," he explained. “That is... if you want it...”
(Stay... stay for the alpha. He's giving us a gift. Thank him. Thank him.)
The little voice was right in the worst way. You needed a place to stay and he was giving you that. You should be grateful and not ask too many questions. No one had ever just done something nice for you before. There was always a catch, always something that they wanted before they gave you anything. But Steve was just offering you a place.
You surged forward, catching him off guard. You kissed him the way he'd kissed you in the kitchen, with an eager intensity, giving yourself over to him. But it didn't feel like enough. All of your senses felt like they were cranked up to eleven and you needed to do something.
Dropping to your knees, you started to fumble with his belt, then his pants.
"You don't have to —" he stopped short the second you reached into his pants to grip his cock.
His arousal spiked as you started to stroke him, his scent helping you forget all about Bucky. You took a deep breath and allowed yourself to get lost in it, to let your hindbrain take the wheel and take whatever she wanted. For the first minute, you were content to stroke him, watching as he got hard in your grip, letting you see just how big he was.
Then you leaned in, chasing your hand with your tongue as it striped up and down the considerable length of him. It wasn't long before pre-cum started to leak from his tip and you made a show of greedily licking it up. His breath caught and your whole body heated. You were pleasing him, making him gasp. You were in control.
You gave a slow and sensual lick, swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock before sliding your lips over him and slowly starting to take him into your mouth. Your movements were deliberate and slow to begin with, wanting to show him not just that you appreciated his offer but that you were worthy of it, worthy of a place in his life. Maybe he wouldn't claim you, but did that really matter if he was willing to keep you safe?
Moaning, you started to bob your head, following the movement with your hand, making sure no inch of him went untouched. Even though this was all for him, you quickly felt your own arousal starting to build. One glance up at him through your lashes was almost enough to undo you.
When his fingers slipped into your hair, you moaned around him, some part of you eager to give up the control you'd literally just been celebrating.
His hips jerked forward, causing the crown of his cock to nudge the back of your throat. Your eyes watered and you softly gagged, but you didn't stop, sucking in your cheeks as your free hand gripped his hip. The sound of your wet lips on his skin coupled with his heavy breathing had you fighting the urge to slip your hands between your thighs — or worse, grinding yourself against his boot.
You relaxed your throat and managed to take a little bit more of him. His fingers twitched in your hair and his gaze darkened with want, obviously enjoying the sensation of your throat around him. You gulped and tried to swallow, tried to take more and more, feeling needy and greedy, desperate for everything you could get. A tear rolled down your cheek from your watering eyes, but you paid it no mind. You were enjoying yourself too much to stop.
Muffled moans started to spill more freely from you, each one vibrating around his cock and causing his hips to jerk. You trailed your tongue up and down him, tracing the thick vein on the underside of his cock, giving him everything you could to try and make him happy before giving him what he really wanted.
What every alpha wanted.
Control.
You found his hand on the back of your head and gave it a squeeze, silently giving him permission to take over.
A low sound came from the back of his throat, a purely alpha sound that made you tremble. His grip tightened on your hair, almost painfully so, and he started to move his hips.
"Such a good little omega," he grunted.
(A good omega for our alpha, your hindbrain whined.)
You had to grip his waist to keep yourself steady as he set a faster pace, chasing his pleasure. His groans were the final straw — you couldn't help yourself, you had to slip your hand between your thighs and sate the urgent need inside you. There was something about him being in charge that made you lose all control and act every bit the omega.
"Are you —" he didn't even have to finish the question.
The sight of you on your knees in front of him, his cock in your mouth and your hand between your thighs had him practically growling. And that just made you want more.
(Yes, yes, yes... make the alpha happy, make the alpha keep us. We want to stay with the alpha. We want this. Over and over and over.)
Your fingers teased your clit with a rough and desperate rhythm, trying to keep time with his thrusts. You stared up at him feeling an odd sense of contentment washing over you, like you were exactly where you needed to be.
Pleasure quickly began to build inside you. It had been building since your run-in with Bucky and, now, it was approaching fever pitch.
Steve gave you a warning before he came, but you had no intention of stopping, and hearing him groaning your name was more than enough to push you over the edge too. You swallowed thickly as finished in your mouth, making sure not a single drop went to waste. The taste of him on your tongue was intoxicating, and you already knew you’d never have enough of it.
When he was done, he slumped back against the set of drawers, tucked himself away, and offered you a hand up.
Your legs trembled, but you managed to stand again, eagerly pressing your body to his as he snaked a possessive arm around your waist.
"I can’t keep you," he said with a soft exhale. "I won't claim you, but..."
That one little syllable hung in the air, giving you a small slither of hope that your life was finally going to get better.
"But?"
"But there's a place for you here, if you want it."
"A... place?" You had a thousand questions but you weren't sure how to ask them. You were still trembling from your orgasm, still pressed so close to him, wrapped up in his arms and in his scent.
"Stay here and I'll take care of you. All your needs, all your urges," he said, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. "I'm willing to do everything an alpha would do for their omega, except claim you."
"You'll take care of me?" You asked. Steve nodded. "What do you get out of it?"
"I have urges too," he shrugged. "My line of work makes it hard for me to have an omega, but you just sort of fell into my lap, and I can't resist a damsel in distress."
His line of work? How did running a club (several clubs) make it hard for him to have an omega?
"There's plenty of space here, and I have the money to support you until you find something more permanent," he continued. "And besides, I want more nights like last night..."
Your legs trembled and you pressed yourself closer to him. He was going to let you stay so he could have you there any time he wanted to fuck. Maybe it should have bothered you, maybe you should have wanted more, but your heart had been wounded by Rick and you didn't want to go through that again. You didn't want to get attached if he didn't want you the same way.
"Okay," you said softly, pressing your face against his chest.
(We'll make him want to keep us. Make him want to claim us.)
"Good, I'll take you to get your things," He looked at you and smiled. "As much as I like seeing you in my clothes, I need to be able to think about something other than your body. I checked the security footage from last night,your ex left with your purse. We'll get everything of yours and you'll never have to see him again."
It was as if he'd already known that this was how things would go — not the blowjob, but you agreeing to stay with him and unofficially be his omega. Again, it should have bothered you, should have at least given you pause to wonder if you were being manipulated or used just for sex, but the scent of his arousal was still thick around you and the taste of him lingered on your tongue.
"But, I should warn you, there are rules to living here with us," he said, cupping your cheek and making sure your eyes were on him.
"Rules?" You repeated, a lump forming in your throat. "What kind of rules?"
His thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek, in a tender but possessive way, making you want to agree to anything he asked of you.
"You can't go out on your own — if you need to go somewhere, either me or Bucky will take you," Steve said. "Anything you see or hear here needs to stay between us, no matter what it is or how important you think it might be. And I need to know that I can have you whenever I want to. If you find another alpha who's worthy of you and you want to leave, I'll let you go, but until then, you're mine."
You lost yourself in his blue eyes and rich scent and nodded. Losing some of your freedom was a small price to pay if it meant being looked after by an alpha like him. If it meant being in his arms and in his bed.
He smiled and slowly released you from his grasp.
"There's some clothes in the drawer — you're a little bit smaller than Nat, but you should be able to find something that fits."
"Nat?" Your head swam as you took a step back, some desperate part of you protesting the slightest space between your bodies.
"Are you jealous, omega?" He asked, not even bothering to hold back his smile.
"No, I just..."
Okay, so you weren't jealous, but if this Nat was another omega, you knew you would be.
"She's part of the pack," Steve explained. "Another alpha."
You frowned. Alpha's were rare and it was unusual to find two in a pack, never mind three. "Another alpha?"
"We're not a typical pack," was all he offered. "Have a shower and get dressed, omega. Get yourself settled in, then come downstairs. I'll take you to get your things."
He left before you could think to stop him and your hindbrain mourned his loss as if you'd never see him again. You wondered if you'd ever get used to being around alphas and the way they made you feel. It didn't quite match how you'd expected it to be, but you certainly weren't complaining.
Once he was gone, you slipped into the ensuite bathroom and took a quick shower. Then you started to familiarise yourself with the room, easily finding the clothes that he had mentioned. Whoever this Nat was, she was bigger than you — not surprising, given she was an alpha — and the first pair of jeans you tried on almost drowned you. Even her leggings were too long.
You settled for a light, summer dress — it was still too big, but the loose fit wasn't quite as noticeable once you cinched the waist with a belt. And you felt a lot more comfortable not wearing panties with the dress. That was a line you didn't want to cross; it was all well and good borrowing some clothing, but wearing someone else's underwear was another matter entirely. You found a light grey jacket in the wardrobe that matched the blue dress, and that just left shoes.
Padding back downstairs, you could hear Steve and Bucky talking in the kitchen.
"How long?" Bucky asked, and you stilled a few steps from the door.
"As long as she needs." Steve.
"Do you think it's safe keeping her —"
"I'm not keeping her, Buck."
"Does she know that?" Bucky asked, and you could picture the smug look on his face.
"She knows. And I set some ground rules for her. She won't get in the way. She's a good omega."
(He thinks we're good. We are good. We'll be the best he's ever had. We'll make him want to keep us, your hindbrain squealed.)
"Yeah, and you know why that is, don't you?" Bucky said.
"Enough, that's not —" Steve fell silent.
You waited a beat, then started to worry that they knew you were there, listening in. When they didn't continue, you started to move, walking into the kitchen as if you'd only just come downstairs.
Steve's eyes raked up and down your body, his gaze causing gooseflesh on every inch of skin he looked at.
You forced a slow breath, reminding yourself how acute the alphas' senses were, and how easily they could tell when you were aroused. But, when you allowed yourself a glance at Bucky, you realised you couldn't tell which of the alphas was affecting you the most. You hated it. You didn't want to feel any emotion inspired by Bucky aside from annoyance, but you couldn't say with any certainty that the weakness in your knees was all because of Steve either.
"Are you ready to go?" Steve asked.
"Yeah, I just need my shoes," you answered.
Steve's gaze dropped to your bare feet and — fuck, how did that turn you on? You wished that you'd spent more time with alphas in the past, just so you could understand how much of what you felt was normal and how much of it was just them.
"They're by the door. I had them cleaned for you."
Your eyes caught Bucky's as you turned to leave the kitchen, and heat instantly started to pool low in your stomach. As much as you wanted to hate him, there was just something about him, something that made your insides thrum with a hunger you couldn't explain. He was a disgusting pig but, somehow, the draw to him was stronger than it was to Steve.
Shaking your head, you pushed the thought away. You'd ignore it. Ignore him. Steve was the one offering to look after you, the one that wanted you around. Steve was the one who'd get your attention.
It took less than a minute to find your boots and pull them on. A skitter of pleasure ran through you just at the sight of them; cleaned and shined, looking good as new. If this was how thoroughly Steve was going to look after you, then you were going to have a very comfortable time with him.
You'd just have to make sure you avoided Bucky from now on...
"No," Bucky said as you returned to the kitchen.
"You heard Sam, he needs me to deal with it," Steve said, shooting you an apologetic look the second he noticed you. "I need to go take care of something at the club. Bucky is going to take you to get your things."
"What? No, I —" you started and stopped just as abruptly when Steve’s eyebrow raised at your very quick protests. "I can wait."
"Sweetheart," Steve said softly, "it's okay, Buck'll take good care of you. Besides, if you're sticking around, you two really should get to know each other."
Bucky's words from earlier rang in your ears; did he tell you that we share sometimes?
"Fine. I'll take her." Bucky spoke before you got the chance to think of an excuse.
"Great." Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead and left, barely giving you a second to even wrap your head around what was happening.
It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room.
Bucky said nothing.
You said nothing.
You waited for a hole to open up beneath your feet and swallow you whole but it never happened.
"C'mon then, doll." The words felt like a death sentence as they left his lips because you weren't sure what being alone with him again was going to do to you.
But you followed after him as he led you out the side door to a dark SUV and got in when he opened the door for you. The only words you managed to speak were your former address when he asked for it. Then, you spent the whole ride across town awkwardly staring forward, not wanting to look his way. You tried your damnedest not to breathe, not wanting his scent filling your nose and lungs.
If Bucky noticed any of it, he kept it to himself, seeming content to just quietly drive you across the city.
Neither of you spoke until he pulled up outside Rick's building.
"What are you doing?" You asked as Bucky got out of the car.
"Helping you get your things."
"You're not coming with me."
"He put his hands on you last night, there's no chance I'm leaving you alone with him."
The look on Bucky's face told you that there was going to be no reasoning with him, but that didn't stop you from trying. "I'll be fine. He's never been like that before. And, besides, I hit him first..."
"Seriously? You think that makes it okay?"
No. You didn't. But it had taken Bucky saying it to make you realise it. You shouldn't have lashed out at Rick, but he never should've raised his hand to you either.
"Fine," you grumbled.
You didn't say another word as you led him up to the little fourth floor apartment that had been, until last night, your home. It wasn't until you reached the door that you started to wonder what you were going to find if you knocked — had he already moved Cindy in? Were you about to interrupt some tender moment between the two? Would you be able to face her without breaking her nose?
Fortunately, when the door was answered, it was just Rick. In his boxers. Looking bruised and hungover.
"You came home?" He said, almost sounding happy to see you, but that stopped the moment he saw Bucky lurking behind you. "Oh..."
"I just want my things," you said, trying to keep any and all hurt from your voice. You hated how you suddenly felt, standing in front of him like an open wound, and you felt like such an idiot for ever thinking that there might be a future with him.
Rick looked at you, then at Bucky before standing aside and letting you in.
Bucky followed after you like an unwanted shadow as you stepped into the apartment. Compared to Steve's house — or was it Steve's and Bucky's? — the apartment was small, little more than a shoebox. It felt suffocating to be back there after just one night in an actual mansion.
Rick followed Bucky — though he kept a very respectful distance.
You tried your best to ignore both of them and focused on gathering your things from the bedroom. You started with the more expensive things; your laptop and drawing tablet.
No one said anything until the silence got to be too much for Rick.
"Is this how it's going to be now?" He asked. "The silent treatment whenever we're in the same room?"
"There is no now. I'm getting my stuff and then I'm gone," you said, keeping your back to him as you unplugged your printer. "We're never going to be in the same room again."
"Look, I know I fucked up and things didn't pan out the way you wanted them to, but we could still be friends. You don't need to run off with an alpha you don't even know."
Bucky gave a low grunt that had Rick looking close to shitting himself, but the alpha didn't say anything.
You turned to glare at your ex. "Friends? You raised your hand to me. I never want to see you again."
"Fuck, do you alway have to be so fucking dramatic? You hit me first, remember?"
"Yeah and you deserved it."
Rick shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. "I should've known better than to date a fucking omega — this is why I chose Cindy over you. She doesn't get emotional over dumb shit."
It was strange in hindsight how often he'd made comments about you being emotional or for getting upset. Worst still was how often you'd allowed yourself to believe him. For eighteen months he'd made you feel like you were too sensitive just because you were an omega, and you'd let so much shit slide because of it.
"Yeah, well I hope you make each other miserable. I feel sorry for the baby,' you snapped back.
Rick took a step towards you but thought better of it as Bucky straightened.
"Just get your stuff and get the fuck out." He turned and walked out, leaving you alone with Bucky again.
"He cheated on you?" Bucky asked once the beta was gone. There was an anger in his voice that you didn't understand, partly because you'd assumed that he already knew but mostly because you didn't expect him to care.
"What d'you care?" You said, turning your attention back to your packing.
He was silent for a beat, then; "he usually talk to you like that?"
You shrugged, still not sure why any of it mattered to him.
"I should've broken his fucking jaw."
It wasn't some idle threat. He started towards the door, giving you no time to think before moving. You put yourself in front of him, hands on his arms, trying to stop him.
"Don't. Just... just leave it." You said. "He's not worth it."
You instantly realised your mistake. Too close. You were standing far too close. And, just as it had earlier, his scent started to infect you. Bucky followed as you stumbled backwards, and you found yourself pressed against the dresser. His gaze dropped to your lips and your heart started to race as he crowded you.
"What are you doing?" You hissed, daring to glance towards the door, making sure Rick wasn't lurking.
"Finishing what we started this morning." His head bowed and he let his lips ghost against yours. "I know you're not wearing anything under that dress..."
You almost lifted your face to force his lips to do more than just graze yours but the last vestiges of your common sense won out. Slamming your hands against his chest, you pushed him as hard as you could.
Bucky barely moved.
"Back off," you told him, despite the voice in your head pleading to let him bend you over the dresser and fuck you hard while your ex sat in the next room.
A low sound vibrated in the back of his throat and his head dipped again. He inhaled deeply and a tremor ran down your spine, heat licking through your core and giving him exactly what he wanted. Then he pulled away, grinning.
"Suit yourself," he shrugged. "Hurry the fuck up."
Two boxes, a suitcase, and a backpack later, your entire life was packed away, and you were ready to head back to your new home and figure out just what the fuck you were going to do.
A/N : See what I mean about people being assholes in this one? Don't worry, the why's will be explained in later chapters. Anyway, thanks for the great response to the first part of this, I'm really glad people enjoyed it, and I hope you like what I have planned for it going forward.
Again, there's no set upload schedule for this one, but there is a tag list or you can subscribe to the story on Ao3.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great week!
Plot Summary : When your boyfriend turns out to be cheating piece of shit, two alphas come to your rescue. One tells you he won't keep you and the other wants nothing to do with you, but that doesn't stop the pull you feel towards them. The closer you get, the more you discover about them, and about yourself.
Pairing : Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader / Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Cheating, pregnancy mention, and smut. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, love triangle(ish), and explicit smut. There is an unspecified age gap between Alphas and reader. All characters are a little darker than usual. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 7.3k
A/N : Remember last year when I said I was working on a new Bucky thing? I found it, rewrote it, and here it is. Now it's kind of a Bucky and Steve sort of thing...
Chapter One
It was funny just how quickly everything could fall apart.
Hilarious even.
"It's nothing personal," he said with a fake smile, as if trampling all over your heart was a casual affair. "It's just... well, I always wanted a family some day..."
It wasn't the words that hurt, it was what he didn't say. Rick wanted a family, just not with you. He didn't have the balls to say the quiet part out loud; he didn't want to have kids with you because they would likely turn out to be omegas.
A year and a half ago, it wouldn't have bothered you. You would have shook his hand and wished him all the best — it wasn't like you didn't have a firsthand understanding of just how fucking difficult it was being an omega, after all. But he had taken up eighteen months of your life, happy to share your bed, your heats, without so much of a word about the future beyond the next day.
He'd let you get invested, let you believe that your relationship was going somewhere.
The beta hadn't cared about your designation when it had meant getting laid almost every single night and paid time off work every month to help with your heats.
Clearly, he'd realised that the clock was ticking and he either needed to commit to you for the family he wanted, or find someone else.
But, asshole that he was, he'd decided to do it in the middle of a night club.
On your birthday.
And you — stupid, stupid you — had let yourself hope that his recent awkwardness around you had been because he was planning on making things official and offering to claim you.
So, to say you were upset was an understatement.
Fucking livid was closer to the mark.
"Are you even listening to me?" He had the audacity to snap at you, pulling you from thoughts of murder.
You stared, almost lost for words — how did he think that he was the injured party in this?
The urge to lash out started to grow inside you, the urge to slam your first into his stupid face. But you didn't. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of behaving like the overly emotional omega he always claimed you were whenever you argued. If this was the end, you were going to end things with dignity, keeping your head held high.
"Yes, I'm listening," you snapped back. "I'm waiting for the part where you explain why you decided to wait until now to tell me."
It was cruel and, while Rick was a lot of things, he was rarely ever cruel.
He let out a slow breath. "Because I didn't want you to hear it from someone else..."
"Hear what?" Had you missed something?
"Cindy is pregnant."
Why did it matter that Cindy was...
Oh. It took an embarrassingly long moment for the penny to drop. But when it did, any and all thoughts of remaining dignified abandoned you.
"You were cheating on me?" You seethed.
"I wouldn't call it cheating. What we had was fun, but we both knew it was never going to —"
You didn't wait for him to finish before walking away. He called after but made no attempt to follow you. At least, not until he saw where you were headed.
You crossed the dancefloor, heading back to where your so-called friends were sitting, all oblivious to what had just happened. Cindy was smiling over her drink, looking so fucking smug. You'd never been close to her, or any of Rick's friends really, but you'd always made an effort to try and be nice to them.
And you, idiot that you were, had allowed yourself to believe that the betas had accepted you, that they saw you as one of their own.
Next thing you knew, there was a glass in your hand and Cindy was wearing your strawberry daiquiri. The sight of her blonde hair and white dress stained red filled you with a sweet sense of revenge. It took a moment for everyone to catch up and realise what you'd done — all while everyone shifted away from Cindy and the spreading liquid.
"You little omega bitch," Cindy spat, climbing to her feet.
"Beta skank," you retorted.
She stepped forward and you balled your fist, ready to throw a punch, but before you could swing, you were lifted off the ground.
Rick pulled you away, while everyone else rushed to comfort poor Cindy.
You kicked and thrashed as he half-pulled, half-carried you across the club, not letting go until you were in a secluded corner by the bathrooms. The second you were on your feet again, you swung for him, slapping him hard across the face. It caught him off guard and sent him reeling to the side, but he was ready when you went to hit him again.
He caught your wrist and twisted it, forcing your back against the wall.
"I get that you're pissed," he said through gritted teeth, easily holding you in place as you struggled, "but I can talk to Cindy, tell her that you still need me. I can still be there — y'know, for heats and shit, just until —"
The nerve, the fucking audacity of him had you driving your knee into his crotch, making it so it would be a very long time before he'd even be able to think about sex again.
He let go, staggering back as rage spread across his face.
"You little fucking —" his hand rose and you shrank back, bracing for a hit that never came.
Before he'd even started to swing, he was tugged backwards with such a force he almost fell over. He managed to recover but, instead of going for you again, he turned to throw a punch at whoever had grabbed him.
A second later, Rick was on the ground, blood pouring from his nose.
You dared to look at your saviour; blonde, tall, athletic, and —
Oh, he was an alpha.
Rick had no idea. His muted beta senses couldn't pick up the signs like your omega sense could. So, he got back up, thinking he stood a chance at winning a fight.
He didn't.
He took another swing and found himself on his ass again, a pained oof escaping him as he hit the floor. His eyes met yours, and you couldn't tell if he was expecting you to step in and save him, or pleading with you to help. After what he'd done, he was getting nothing from you.
"Get him out of here, Buck," the alpha said. You realised that he wasn't alone when another alpha stepped around him. "And make sure he doesn't come back."
"With pleasure." While the first alpha had the looks of an Abercrombie and Fitch model, the second had a dangerous air about him that made your legs feel weak. His eyes caught yours and your heart stuttered. Then he was gone, dragging Rick across the floor by the collar.
You sagged back against the wall, the adrenaline draining from your body and leaving you feeling exhausted. You were alone. Completely and utterly alone. In the space of five minutes, your entire life had fallen apart.
"Hey, are you okay?" He said, reminding you that the alpha was still there.
He stepped closer and you realised how pathetic you must have looked, slumped against the wall like a frightened animal.
"Yeah, I, uh..."
You finally looked at him. Really looked. Alpha through and through, beautiful in a way that had you blinking, thinking it was your omega sense playing a trick. A shuddering breath escaped you as his scent reached you; an earthy smell that reminded you of a forest after the rain.
Your omega stirred inside you — it had been so long since you'd last been around an alpha, and your instinctual desire left your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Something in the way he looked at you had you wondering if you were the first omega he'd seen in a while. After all, omegas were even rarer than alphas in places like New York.
All it took was a sniff from him to confirm it. He knew what you were.
It should have scared you, knowing how easily an alpha could turn your biology against you, knowing how their urges could be almost as uncontrollable as yours at times. But it didn't.
A shiver ran up your spine as his expression softened.
"There's no need to be afraid. No one is going to hurt you here," he said, offering you his hand. "Come with me."
Your response was instinctual and automatic, slotting your hand into his. The contact was enough to have heat sparking in your belly, though you tried to ignore it.
His fingers wrapped around yours, grip firm but loose, giving you the illusion that you could escape him if you wanted to. Though, rationally, you knew you stood no chance at outrunning an alpha.
People stepped aside for him as he led you across the club, eyes widening at the sight of him. Betas, all of them — they had no idea that he was an alpha, but they could all see the gorgeous specimen of a man as he passed them.
A familiar face caught your attention. Cindy gaped at you and the man holding your hand, her dress stained despite her best attempts to dry it.
"Friend of yours?" The alpha asked.
"No, she just ruined my life."
"We'll see about that," he said, giving a subtle smile.
He led you beyond the velvet rope that separated the VIP area from the main club, the bouncer instantly stepping aside for him. You thought you heard someone call him sir, but you were too busy taking in the clean and much quieter area, away from the bustle of the dance floor.
His hand slipped from yours as you reached a booth and pressed gently on your lower back, urging you to sit. the hand trailed from your back to your waist as you followed his silent command, skin heating beneath his touch.
Was it shock or some innate desire that had you following him without question? Were you thinking clearly, or was your hindbrain in the driving seat?
You were almost disappointed when he slid into the booth opposite you instead of sitting next to you. And, while there were other people in the VIP area, your every sense was trained on him. It was almost overwhelming — his proximity, the way your emotions were still running rampant — and you'd never felt anything like it.
(He saved you, the alpha protected you, he’s big and strong, everything we want, everything we needed —)
Shaking your head, you tried to silence your hindbrain.
Without a word, three glasses were placed on the table, along with a bottle of whisky. He must have given some sign to the bartender, because he hadn't uttered a word.
He filled two glasses, then slid one to you.
"It'll help settle your nerves," he said.
Your hand trembled as you reached for the glass, eyes still fixed on him. It should have worried you how your every thought was him; his approving gaze as you knocked back the drink, his scent, his smile, and the way his throat bobbed when he drained his own glass.
The whisky burned its way down your throat, causing the heat that was building low in your belly to intensify. Realistically, you knew it was just biology but, honestly? You were more than happy to go with it after the night you'd had.
That was why you didn't say anything or try to stop him when he refilled your glass.
"I'm Steve," he said.
You'd been so caught up in everything that you hadn't even thought about his name. You quickly offered your name in a low, timid voice.
There was silence for a moment, like he was waiting for you to continue, to address the elephant in the room.
"You're — you're an alpha."
"I am," he said, not bothering to point out the obvious about your biology.
Despite already knowing it, his confirmation set your hindbrain buzzing and had the purely omega part of you desperate to be let out. And you almost let it, but it was dangerous to give in to that side of your nature, no matter how sweetly it begged.
You took another drink, scrunching your nose as the alcohol burned its way down your throat again.
"Want to talk about it?" Steve offered.
The question alone was enough to send you into a tailspin — you'd done nothing wrong, but you still felt ashamed, like you should have done more to keep Rick faithful. As an omega, you weren't meant to be alone and it felt like a failing to still be single at your age.
Your gaze dropped to the table.
"Was that guy your boyfriend?" He continued.
"He was," you said. Steve stayed quiet, letting you decide if you wanted to elaborate. "I just found out he's been cheating on me and she's pregnant."
He blew out his cheeks and shook his head. "He sounds like a real idiot to me, sweetheart. You're better off without him."
Sweetheart? Your omega preened.
"How long were you together?"
"About a year and a half," you said, taking another drink. "He said he wanted a family, just not with me..."
"Because you're an omega?"
"Yeah — not that he cared about my designation when it meant getting laid every night." The second you realised what you'd said, your cheeks grew hotter. Maybe you'd had enough to drink.
"Don't worry, I'm sure it won't take him long to realise he made a mistake letting you go."
You smiled, and it was strange because you couldn't remember the last time you'd just smiled at anything. Hell, you couldn't even remember the last time anyone had been genuinely nice to you without some ulterior motive.
You reached for your glass again and took another drink, trying to drown the realisation that you couldn't remember the last time you'd actually been happy.
"I don't know why he had to wait to tell me on my birthday though..." you said, not able to hold it in.
"It's your birthday?" He asked, annoyance lacing his tone.
You nodded.
"In that case, we need to celebrate."
He refilled your glass again, sparking a longing ache inside of you — you wanted him to look after you, to take care of you. You wanted to belong and be kept.
No — no, that wasn't what you wanted.
That was the alcohol and your hindbrain talking.
Only...
Even if you didn't want any of that, you needed it. So much of your life had been tied up in Rick and the future you thought you'd have. He'd helped support you financially, and all of your stuff was still at his place...
"Happy birthday," Steve said, pulling you back to the moment as he raised his glass in toast.
You raised your glass in response, then took a slow drink, eyes dropping again.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I just..." you fell silent for a few seconds, "I don't know. I just thought by the time I got to this age that things would be different."
"How did you think it was going to be?" He sat back, giving you space to think.
"I thought I'd at least have a steady job, or some money saved..."
"You don't have a job?"
You shook your head. "I work freelance mostly, but it doesn't exactly pay well," you explained. "It's hard getting steady work when I can only work three weeks a month."
He gave an understanding nod. While alpha's didn't have to suffer monthly because of their designation, every three or so months, their ruts would hit and their primal instincts would take control for a week.
Just the thought of Steve rutting had you shifting in your seat, blood running hot. You'd never been with an alpha, let alone one in rut. Your mouth went dry as you pictured it; him on top of you, behind you, inside you. You forced yourself to drain your glass just to take your mind off of it, but the buzz of alcohol was already dulling your inhibitions, making you want.
The problem with Rick was that he'd always encouraged these moments — though, admittedly, the beta had never affected you quite as much as Steve was managing to — he'd always been more than happy to end a night out or pull you into a bathroom if it meant getting his dick wet. Your heart fluttered every time Steve looked at you, sparking a visceral reaction in your body. That he was listening to you, showing an interest, made you feel seen in a way that you hadn't since you'd first started dating Rick.
He asked you a few questions about your work and you explained that you were an artist, but you mostly did graphic design because it paid better. Sometimes you'd do commission, things like portraits and paintings of people's pets, but it was mostly things like corporate logos that paid the bills.
Steven seemed interested — more interested than Rick had ever been — and kept asking you questions. Where were you from? A little town in Ohio. What brought you to New York? You wanted a change of scenery. Did you come to the club a lot? Yes, but only when Rick wanted to.
"We don't get many omegas in here," Steve said. You gave him a questioning look. "I — we — own the place."
"You own the club?" It shouldn't have surprised you, alpha's tended to be successful.
"This one and a couple of others across the city," he shrugged.
We. You wanted to ask what he'd meant by that but before you could find the words, someone slid into the booth beside you.
"He's been dealt with," the dark haired alpha said.
He pulled a cloth from his jacket and proceeded to wipe blood off his gloves. It should have unsettled you, terrified you even — what the fuck had he done to Rick? — instead more heat licked through your body, this time settling at your core. Steve's scent had been intoxicating enough, now that you had to contend with two alphas you felt like you were drowning and all you wanted to do was take a deep breath.
You were so used to being around betas that you didn't realise your own scent was betraying you until Bucky looked your way, his cold blue eyes narrowing as he took the smallest sniff. But you couldn't help it, couldn't control it. The whisky certainly wasn't helping. Smothered by two very distinct alpha scents, your hindbrain got bolder and harder to ignore.
(Imagine being between them, letting them hold you, touch you, fuck you, the voice in the back of your head said. She was really starting to get out of control.)
"This is Bucky," Steve said, introducing his friend either missing or ignoring how your breathing had turned shallow.
When he introduced you to Bucky, you managed a smile.
"Did her friend give you any trouble?" Steve asked.
"No, but I made sure he won't come back. And I had a nice long chat about him raising his hand to women," Bucky said, filling himself a glass and shooting you a glance. "He won't bother you again."
Your brain practically misfired; half an hour ago you'd found out that your boyfriend was cheating on you, now you had two alpha's protecting you.
The thoughts in your head got louder and louder, your omega half wanting to throw herself at the alpha's. It was pathetic, but clearly you weren't above being a little pathetic when you were drunk and heartbroken.
"Keep her company for a minute. I need to go see Sam about something," Steve said, pulling you back to the moment. He slid out of the booth, and left you alone with Bucky.
For all of a second, you dared to hope that it would be easier to focus with only one alpha, but if anything it was harder. His scent was stronger, almost overpowering — probably because he was sitting closer. Burning wood and roasted coffee, strong, dark scents that made you tremble in anticipation. Though what you were anticipating, you couldn't quite say.
"He's not gonna keep you," Bucky said the moment Steve left the VIP area.
"What?"
"Steve. He likes to play the hero, but if you're looking for an alpha to claim you, it won't be him."
You didn't think he was saying it to be cruel, but it felt cruel. It made something in the back of your mind itch, and you wanted nothing more than to scratch it out.
"Are the two of you..." you left the question unfinished, knowing he'd be able to fill in the blanks. Steve had said we earlier, maybe that meant that he and Bucky were bonded or even mates. It wasn't entirely unheard of for two alpha's to mate.
"We're a pack."
Oh, that made sense. They had a pack bond — not quite the same as a romantic bond or a mating bond, but close enough.
"I don't want anything from him," you said, forcing yourself to keep your head up high.
Bucky smirked, his eyes running up and down your body. "You think I can't smell what you want?"
Squirming, you backed away from him, forcing yourself into the corner of the booth. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He didn't let you put any space between you, he slid closer, boxing you in. When he draped an arm across the back of the booth, your heart almost stopped. He leaned in close, that dangerous scent threatening to swallow you whole. "I can smell how wet you are."
You should have been disgusted. You should have pushed him away — especially as he tangled his fingers in your hair — but you didn't. There was just... something about him that held you in place. Even as he leaned closer, the tip of his nose grazed your throat, your mating gland.
A whimper slipped from your lips and he pulled away, a triumphant grin on his lips. "Typical omega."
"What —" the moment had left you too dazed to summon the ire you knew you should have been feeling, "— what the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Me? I'm not the one getting hot and bothered over someone I only just met."
"That's — I'm not." Where had the fight gone you'd had not an hour ago when you slapped Rick? Why were you letting this prick talk to you like that? Letting him nuzzle at your mating gland?
And why the fuck was your hindbrain desperate for you to press yourself closer to him?
"When he takes you to bed tonight, just remember that you'll be out in the morning."
You opened your mouth to respond just as Steve slid back into the booth.
"You two playing nice?" He asked, smiling at just how close Bucky was to you.
Bucky pulled away instantly. "I'll go check everything's okay in the office. Let me know when you want to leave."
He barely gave you a second glance as he knocked back his drink and stepped out of the booth. But you watched him and you hated yourself for it, almost as much as you hated how right he'd been. You were wet and, despite his warning about Steve, part of you was eager to offer yourself up to the alpha.
And if Bucky could read you that easily, you were pretty certain that Steve knew too.
"Don't mind him, he's a miserable old man." Steve said.
"I should go," you said abruptly, deciding that nothing good was going to come of any of this.
"What did he say to you?" He sounded almost resigned to the fact that Bucky must have said something terrible.
But, as uncomfortable as the interaction had been, you didn't want to cause drama in someone else's pack. "Nothing. Really. It's just getting late and I need to figure out where I'm staying tonight and —"
You fell silent with the awful realisation that you had no idea where your purse was. Where your phone was.
"What's wrong?"
"I left my purse with Rick's friends — everything was in there, my phone, my credit card..." your panic was palpable and a brief flicker of worry on Steve's face was enough to tell you he could smell it.
You made to slide out of the booth, but stopped when his hand covered yours. For a second your worry and panic just vanished, and all you could think about was how soft and warm his hand was.
Words failed as you looked at him, but he didn't need you to say anything. He gave a wave of his hand, drawing the bouncer to the table and quickly explained the situation. The big man nodded before heading out into the club proper to try and find you things. While you didn't think Rick or his friends would steal from you, they were no longer under any obligation to make sure no one else did.
"It's okay," Steve said, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.
(The alpha is taking care of us, protecting us, comforting us... we should let him have us, your hindbrain whined.)
"Everything's fallen apart," you murmured, ignoring the voice telling you to throw yourself at him. "I've got no money, nowhere to go..."
"Don't worry about any of that. I'll make sure you're okay."
His thumb continued its tender caress and what little remained of your common sense started to slip away. So much so that your free hand drifted back to your glass and raised it to your lips.
"He said you won't keep me," you confessed, looking first at Steve's face, then his hand on yours. "Your friend. He said if you take me home, you won't keep me."
"Do you want to be kept?" He asked, thumb never stilling.
(YES.)
"N-no," you answered, all too aware of the spike in your arousal. "I don't want to be kept, I just want... I want to feel like I matter..."
It should have been harder to admit considering he was practically a stranger, but the alcohol mixed with the intoxicating scent of alpha had rendered you needy, making you want. By this point in the evening, you would have already fucked Rick and he would have done his best to sate your urges, instead you were sitting across from an alpha and contending with a longing ache between your thighs.
"I could make you feel like you matter," he said, voice turning low and deep.
"You... you could?"
He nodded. "I know exactly what an omega like you needs."
That was good because you had absolutely no idea what an omega like you needed.
The bouncer returned, explaining that your purse was nowhere to be found and that your 'friends' had left, but you were too caught up in what Steve had said and the promise that lurked beneath his words.
"Stay with me tonight while I track down your things." It wasn't an offer or a suggestion, more a command.
You nodded before even taking a second to think about it, but what else were you going to do? All of your so-called friends were really Rick's friends and, without your credit card, you wouldn't be able to stay at a hotel. The only other option was crawling back to Rick, and it would be a cold day in hell before you allowed yourself to do that.
No, an alpha wanted to care for you and your biology made it impossible to refuse.
His hand took hold of yours again and, without a word, he helped you from the booth. Your legs trembled beneath you and you couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or what you were about to do. You stumbled and found yourself against his chest, an arm protectively wrapped around your waist.
"Easy there," he said softly.
(So strong, so protective... we can make him want to keep us...)
The heat that had been building inside you over the last couple of hours reached a fever pitch, every fibre of your being thrumming with an aching want that you'd never experienced before. It took every ounce of your frayed self-control to pull yourself away from him, instead of lingering and breathing in his scent.
You were a mess of urges and barely coherent thoughts as he led you out the back of the club to where a black SUV was parked.
Bucky was waiting by the car and shook his head when he saw you.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, doll," he muttered as he opened the back door.
"Leave it, Buck. She knows what she wants," Steve said, helping you into the car. You missed whatever Bucky grumbled in response.
Steve got into the car beside you, draping an arm around you and pulling you into his side. As Bucky got in and started the car, Steve nuzzled at your neck, lips and the tip of his nose grazing your gland.
You had to bite your lip to keep from whimpering, acutely aware the Bucky was right there.
"Don't worry about him, sweetheart," Steve murmured. "He doesn't care what we get up to back here."
His hand found your thigh and your hindbrain went into overdrive, wanting you to beg and plead for his touch. All rational thought abandoned you. If he'd dared to shift his hand higher, you would have let him — hell, you would have parted your legs for him. The needy ache between your thighs turned into a pulsing want, and when you heard Steve inhale, you knew he could smell your arousal.
"You really need this, don't you?" He said, still keeping his voice low — though, if you'd been thinking clearly, you would have known that Bucky could hear every word.
You nodded, angling your head to give him better access to your neck and slipping a little further into a state of mindless omega lust.
"You know... we could smell you the moment you got to the club," he continued, "but when we saw you with that beta, we assumed you were spoken for. If I’d known what he was like, I would’ve rescued you hours ago..."
There were no words, no rational thoughts left.
(He wanted us... he wanted us all night, your hindbrain sang in triumph.)
It was a short drive — at least, it felt short, but your grip on reality was tenuous at best while he was nuzzling at your neck — and the car was soon stopped in front of a large house, gated off from the rest of the world. You had no idea where you were, but you didn't care. All you cared about was Steve and the way he was leading you into his home.
(Alpha, alpha, alpha, the voice in your head chanted.)
The further you got into the house, the harder it became to ignore the scent of his arousal. It was suffocating. Every breath you took was him. You'd never experienced anything like it, beta scents were too muted, too bland to cause so visceral a reaction in you. Your own scent was out of control and long forgotten, but you didn't care about hiding it anymore. You wanted him.
A door clicked shut behind you, sealing you in a dimly lit room and, finally, his lips found yours.
He pressed you back against the door, caging you in with his body, devouring you with his kiss. You let slip a desperate whine, a purely omega sound that betrayed every ounce of your longing. Your knuckles ached and you realised that you were gripping his shirt, eagerly holding him in the kiss, as if you thought he might slip away from you.
"Are you sure you want this?" He asked.
"Yes."
He took a shuddered breath. "I won't keep you."
It should have stung, should have made you reconsider, but you were too far gone, fighting a losing battle against your hindbrain and your omega. Besides, you had needs and, even if it was only one night, you already knew he'd know exactly how to satisfy you.
(We can make him keep us, the voice in your head said again.)
"I know."
You barely got the words out before his lips were on you again. He lifted you, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning wildly as his hips pressed to yours and you felt the hard outline of his cock between your thighs.
"I can smell how wet you are," he groaned, grinding against you.
Your mind flashed back to the club, to Bucky, to the way it had felt as his nose grazed your gland, and you moaned again. Fuck — why were you thinking about that asshole while Steve had you in his arms? And why did you wonder what it’d feel like to be in his arms?
"Have you ever been with an alpha?"
"N-no," you answered, stammering as his hips shifted again.
A low sound vibrated from the back of his throat, a possessive alpha sound that made you tremble in his arms.
"Once you have an alpha, you'll never be satisfied with a beta again."
You were sure his words were meant as a warning, to let you know that you were about to cross a line, but you didn't care. He'd made you feel more in the last two hours than Rick had made you feel in eighteen months, and you needed it. You needed one night where life felt good.
Fingers tangled in his hair, giving a light tug, forcing him to look at you. "I know, I just... I need..."
You couldn't find the words, but he could.
"You need an alpha to take care of you?" He said and you nodded. "You want to feel like you matter — you do matter."
He turned, easily carrying you away from the door and further into the room. He placed you down beside the bed and made quick work of unzipping your dress, pushing it from your shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. Your hands started to tug at the buttons of his shirt, while Steve's hands explored the skin that he'd uncovered. You'd never been more glad of not wearing a bra.
Shrugging off his shirt, he stepped closer, forcing you backwards. The backs of your knees hit the bed and you fell back, landing with your legs splayed. An open invitation to the alpha. Through the gloom you could make out his eyes, fixed on you as he quickly stripped down to his boxers.
When he touched you again, he dragged his hand up your thigh to your panties. A sharp tug was all it took to rip them away from your body and, before you had time to think about it you felt his hot breath between your legs.
A soft but desperate keen escaped you as his fingers slipped through your slick arousal, spreading you open and bearing you to him as he —
"Oh fuck, Steve!" You cried the moment you felt his tongue on you.
Your hips jerked as his tongue ran through your folds, lapping your slick before moving to tease your throbbing clit. Nothing had ever felt so good, nothing had ever made you feel so desperate and needy. Every nerve in your body sparked with pleasure as his tongue moved, and every breath you took was him.
Fingers tangled in his hair, but when you tried to move, tried to grind yourself against his lips and tongue, he let out a low growl and pressed a hand to your stomach, pinning you down.
(Fuck, he's so dominant, submit, submit, submit, your hindbrain squealed in ecstasy.)
"Please!" You begged, not caring how loud you were being.
Every shred of restraint you possessed was officially gone, replaced entirely by your hindbrain and your omega desires. You were running on pure instinct, and that instinct said to lay back and take whatever the alpha was offering.
You came easily, your fingers tugging at his hair as you drowned in pure pleasure, desperate for more. He kept going, kept sliding the flat of his tongue against you until you were a shuddering, overstimulated mess. Already you were regretting that it would be a one night only thing.
The mattress dipped as Steve crawled up your body, lips and tongue exploring every inch of skin he came across. You gasped and whined as his teeth grazed your nipple, and — honestly? In that moment there wasn't a damned thing you wouldn't have done if he'd asked you to. He continued upwards after a few seconds, playfully nipping at your collarbone and kissing your neck before leaning over you.
Light filled the room and you couldn't suddenly see him perfectly. He'd turned on a lamp and was staring down at you with a barely restrained hunger. When he licked his lips, you realised that his chin was glistening with your slick. The delicious sight was so distracting that you didn't notice him reaching between your thighs until two fingers sank inside you.
He kissed you, swallowing the moan that tried to bubble out of you, and muffling his own groan.
His fingers moved, easily sliding in and out of your cunt, making you writhe beneath him. It wasn't enough. You needed more. You needed all of him. You wanted his cock.
"Soon," he murmured, as if he read your mind, bending and scissoring his fingers inside you. "I want to make sure you're ready. I don't want to hurt you."
At any other time you would have appreciated the sweetness of the gesture, but you were beyond sweetness. You were nothing more than a creature of pure need. He kissed you again before you could complain, a quiet display of who was in charge. And you loved it. You wanted more of it, for him to take complete control.
His thumb pressed against your clit with each plunge of his fingers and you felt that telltale tension starting to coil in your stomach again. You were going to come and then he was going to fuck you. The thought alone had your thighs trembling and you were so worked up that you almost screamed when his fingers bent inside you, teasing that special spot inside you.
The second orgasm was more intense than the first, enough that you started to purr as you moaned, your omega half wresting control from you completely.
How had you survived without the touch of an alpha for so long? How had you spent eighteen months with Rick when you could have been having something like this?
You whined as he withdrew his fingers, but your feelings of emptiness were quickly forgotten as he brought them to your lips and slipped them into your mouth. Moaning, you sucked his fingers, enjoying the taste of yourself on them. Your eyes closed, licking and sucking until he pulled his hand away.
When you looked again, he'd pulled a condom from the nightstand and was rolling it down his length. Your breath caught at the sight of him kneeling between your spread legs, his cock hard and — fuck, he was so much bigger than you were used to.
He finished with the condom and you pouted, your hindbrain sulking, wanting him to fuck you bare. It was a good thing he hadn't asked you because you probably would have begged him for it.
"Present for me, omega," he said, his voice suddenly much lower, more gravelly than before.
Oh, you realised, his alpha was finally coming out to play.
Your body shook and trembled, but you immediately did as you were told, clumsily moving to your hands and knees in front of him. It had been so long since you'd presented for anyone, but the moment you were settled, everything in your mind seemed to blank. This was where you belonged, where you were meant to be.
Your back arched as he dragged a finger down your spine and across to your hip, where he gripped you tight. The slightest nudge of his cock was all it took to have you moaning again, his hold stopping you from impaling yourself on him before he was ready. Sensitive and needy, you whined, unable to even form the words you'd need to beg him to fuck you.
But you didn't need to beg because he wanted the same thing as you.
He held you in place as he sank his cock into the waiting heat of you. The sensation had you cursing and whining and moaning, making all manner of noises that could no doubt be heard on the other side of the house. He moved slowly, almost delicately, trying to save you from any discomfort.
But any discomfort was secondary to the way your body thrummed with need, pushing you to heights you'd never experienced before. Being with an alpha was everything you'd never even realised you'd needed.
"That's it, sweetheart," he groaned, bottoming out. "That's a good omega."
It spoke to something deep and primal within you, and all you wanted to be was good for the alpha.
(Your alpha.)
No, not your alpha. Just your alpha... for the night.
He fucked you with slow, deep strokes, letting you feel every inch of him and, when you tried to move, tried to push back against him, he tightened his grip on you hips and held you in place.
It made your hindbrain sing to feel completely at his mercy, his to do with as he pleased — and he certainly seemed pleased to be fucking you. Pleasure became the only thing that mattered and every other thought vanished from your head; there was no more break up, no more Rick and Cindy, and no worries about what you'd do in the morning. There was just Steve, inside you, fucking you to heights you hadn't even known existed before tonight.
After years of betas who only wanted to use you for your libido, you finally knew what it was like to be with someone who knew how to bring you pleasure.
Your eyes rolled back and you gave in to the primal part of you, eagerly whining and moaning as he dragged his cock in and out of your cunt. He easily pushed you to another orgasm, letting out a low groan of his own as your walls fluttered and clenched around him.
When he pulled out, leaving you empty and bereft, you felt like the world was ending. You babbled and protested, every fibre of your being mourning his loss.
The two seconds it took for him to move you onto your back and slide back inside you were two of the longest seconds of your life.
Your legs wrapped around his waist as he started to move again, keeping him close, making sure he didn't pull out again. His hands gripped your hips, strong arms effortlessly pulling you into every thrust of his hips.
"Steve..." you moaned.
He fucked you until you came again, then he followed suit. You whined at the dull sensation of his cock throbbing inside you, wishing you'd begged him not to wear a condom.
When he pulled out and rolled away, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling, a strange laugh bubbling out of you.
"Something funny?" Steve asked, settling beside you.
It took you a moment to find your voice again. "I just never knew being with an alpha would be like... like that..."
(Make him keep us. He needs to keep us. We need that again. We need to belong to him.)
You were too exhausted to even try to rationalise what your hindbrain wanted, you just curled up against Steve and fell asleep.
A/N : So, first and foremost, there is no upload schedule for this fic. I have around 5 chapters planned but I have no idea if it will take two weeks or two months between chapters. If you want to follow this, I can do a tag list, otherwise, I'd suggestion subscribing on Ao3 (hungermakesmonsters).
Second, if you're new here... I don't normally write Steve Rogers (you can probably tell). So, to avoid disappointment, don't feel like you have to follow me if you're expecting more of that (though, never say never, I guess?)
Third, this is going to be a darker story. It's not all cuteness and rainbows, and people will be assholes. That said, it's not going to be dead-dove dark, just some crime and a little bit of violence. And, obviously, there's the sex-positive omegaverse elements. As always, each chapter will have TWs listed.
Finally, thank you so much for checking this out!
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great week!
Plot Summary : It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man of dwindling fortune, will do whatever it takes to replenish his coffers. Even if that means seeking a suitable marriage match for his sister against her wishes. After arranging for you to spend the season with affluent Mr Castle of Netherton Park, your world is turned upside down. Not by Mr Castle as your brother intended, but by his roguish adopted brother Captain Russo.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Some slight frisky business. All chapters will contain some mention of arranged marriages, age gap, and the gender imbalances/misogyny of the Regency Era. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.6k
A/N : long story short, I needed an extra couple of days to change the last scene. I think you'll all agree what I went with is better. Also, I was going to try to make this historically accurate, but now I'm not because constantly researching things is getting annoying, so think of this as a Bridgerton-esque mishmash.
Chapter List : Chapter One | Chapter Two
Chapter Three
This kiss repeated itself over and over in your mind as Jane led you back to the house.
She was talking, telling you how impressed she was that you'd made it to the centre of the maze on your own, but all you could think about was him. Captain Russo. Or, more exactly, the way he'd looked at you the second before he'd kissed you. There had been something in those dark, unreadable eyes that you just didn't understand.
And, of course, you were furious with him — didn't he realise how being so forward with you, kissing you, could destroy your reputation? You shuddered to think what might have happened if Jane had discovered the pair of you tucked away in that alcove.
Your whole life could have been destroyed, and he didn't even seem to care.
A tight knot formed in your stomach, leaving you feeling sick as Jane walked beside you, telling you little snippets about the house and the gardens. You only half-listened. The Captain had already told you most of it, and nothing new that you learned was interesting enough to pull your thoughts from that moment in the maze.
Had it really all just been some game to him?
Was that all you were now, what you had been reduced to, a pawn in the petty games of men?
But, still, some piece of you wanted to hold out hope that you were wrong. The Captain was the one person who you'd thought had noticed you and how out of place you were at Netherton, the one person who seemed to care that you were lonely. Or had that been part of the game too?
The anger quickly drained from you and was replaced, instead, by a cold emptiness. Was this going to be your life from now on; letting men make all of your decisions and toy with you as they saw fit?
Without warning (or, perhaps there had been warning and you'd just missed it because you weren't listening) the maid stepped in front of you and started to fuss with your clothes, muttering something about you wanting to look your best for the master.
As if summoned by your misery, there he was atop a huge black stallion. You brother rode beside him on a slightly smaller horse and beside him —
"Miss Page," Jane said, noticing how your attention was drawn to the red-head riding with the men, seemingly with no chaperone. She wore a dress of bright green, the likes of which you'd never seen before. "She's an American."
Your jaw threatened to drop, but there wasn't time for it. The party of riders was approaching and, suddenly, you were very concerned with your appearance and whether or not it was obvious that you'd spent the afternoon wandering the grounds with Captain Russo. After all, the last thing you wanted was another confrontation with Ethan.
Stable hands rushed towards the as the three horses stopped just shy of where you were standing but the woman, Miss Page, didn't wait to be helped down, she simply swung herself out of the saddle and gracefully dropped to the ground, grinning as it it was the most normal and proper thing in the world. Part of you resented how scandalised you felt, and how neither your brother nor Mr Castle even seemed to notice.
If you'd done the same you would have been immediately reprimanded and called unladylike.
The men were quickly at her side.
"Sister, may I introduce Miss Page —" Ethan started.
"Please, you must call me Karen," she interrupted.
You felt your cheeks warm a fraction, wanting nothing more than to take her up on that offer but saw the way Ethan was glowering at you. Forcing a smile, you dropped into a curtsy and allowed Ethan to introduce you.
Miss Page laughed.
"I always forget how formal it is here." She stepped towards you and looped her arm with yours, still smiling that wide smile that suggested no darkness had ever touched her life. "Don't worry, I'm certain that we're going to be fast friends, you and I."
As she started to lead you towards the house, walking in front of the men and seeming to know exactly where she was heading without their guidance or permission, you heard Mr Castle instructing the stable hands to deal with the horses then to fetch Miss Page's belongings from the carriage.
Glancing behind, you caught sight of a figure in the distance, heading away from the main house. Captain Russo. Had he been watching you?
"You're staying at Netherton?" You asked, allowing her to direct you into the house and towards the sitting room.
"For the whole season," she confirmed. "I'm glad you and your brother are here — last year it got a little dull around here with only Frank and William for company."
William. She knew Captain Russo?
"Sorry, Captain Russo," she corrected, and you realised that you'd spoken his name aloud. "Have you met him yet? I hear he's been back home for a month, but Frank doesn't like to talk about him."
The kiss played out in your mind again and a shiver licked up your spine.
"Oh, so you have met him then," Miss Page grinned, clearly reading the look on your face. "He's trouble, but he's not nearly as bad as Frank and Ethan like to make out."
"We danced. Last night. Just once," you dared to offer, lowering your voice so only she could hear. "Ethan wasn't happy about it."
"I'll bet. They never told me what happened when they were at school together, but they've been carrying their grudges for at least ten years now."
As with Jane, you immediately found yourself liking Miss Page and the refreshing honesty she offered.
"Do —" you hesitated, reconsidering the question for a moment, "— do you know the Captain well?"
"I've known him and Frank most of my life. My father was born not far from here and he still has business dealings in the city, so I spend a little time here every year." Suddenly, you felt a glimmer of hope, like you finally had a way of understanding the world you'd been thrust into. She glanced over her shoulder at the door before taking a seat by the fire and indicating you sit beside her. "So, you danced with him?"
Your cheeks burned hotter, but you gave her an abridged version of the story; how the Captain had noticed you were alone and had chivalrously offered to dance a turn with you.
"He is a very good dancer — far better than Frank," she said, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But don't tell him that."
"I hope you're not scheming with my sister," Ethan's voice caused your spine to straighten and the smile to drop from your lips. But, when you looked up, you realised his eyes were fixed on Miss Page and not you.
"Of course I am," she retorted. "What do you expect after you've kept her hidden from me for so many years."
Hidden? Was that what you'd been? Sequestered away from the world and people who might want to know you?
"My sister prefers the comfort of home," he explained, as if you weren't even there. As if you didn't even have a voice of your own.
Maybe you didn't — what was your life if not a long string of other people talking for you, making all of your important decisions?
"Then whatever brings you to Netherton?" It took you a second to realise that her question was aimed at you and, without even looking, you felt the intensity of Ethan's stare.
"My brother wishes for me to find a husband, so he brought me here for the season," you said plainly, barely keeping your ire in check.
"Well, I doubt you'll find anyone this far from the city. Luckily for you, I've already secured invitations to some of the most exclusive balls," she said.
"Actually, my brother has already arranged —"
"I've already arranged plenty of social events." He jumped in before you could finish, keeping you from telling her that you'd been all but promised to Mr Castle already, and there was really no point in you looking elsewhere for a prospective husband. It almost seemed like he didn't want her to know that. "Don't worry, my sister will be well taken care of while she's here."
"More like bored to death," Miss Page muttered under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear. You didn't dare laugh, but you appreciated that she saw the situation for what it was. Then, completely ignoring Ethan, she added in a much louder voice; "I won't take no for an answer, you absolutely have to come with me."
Well, when she put it like that...
"Of course, Miss," you said dutifully, making it sound as if you had no other choice but to politely acquiesce. Ethan glared at you but said nothing.
Over the course of the afternoon, you got to know a little more about Miss Page and, by virtue of the years they'd known each other, Mr Castle. From time to time, you felt a little out of place as they spoke about times past and recalling their youths but, for the first time since coming to Netherton, you didn't feel dread in the pit of your stomach.
"So, the elephant in the room," Miss Page said, just as you were about to slip away to get ready for dinner.
"Karen..." Mr Castle warned.
"He's asked for a seat at the table, has he not?" Miss Page continued, seeming purposefully oblivious to his tone. "Or are you going to make me walk across half of Netherton to see him?"
The him in question was clearly Captain Russo. Just the thought of him had your heart beating a little faster.
"I don't know why you want to see him at all," Ethan said.
"He has a seat at the table if he wants it," Castle said. "He always does. If he has the guts to take it."
You weren't sure what that meant, but you weren't comfortable asking. So, you waited a beat before getting to your feet and excusing yourself to change for dinner.
It was a mistake. The moment you were alone again, your thoughts strayed back to him and the way he'd kissed you. Why couldn't you get him out of your mind? Why did your blood heat and your pulse race with every mention of him?
Was he really going to be at dinner?
That thought alone had you dropping onto your bed and burying your face in the pillows — how were you supposed to act like you had any interest in being courted by Mr Castle if you couldn't stop thinking about his brother?
The thoughts and questions consumed you for the better part of an hour, meaning you were nowhere near ready for dinner when Jane came to check if you needed help with your hair (which you very much did).
Everyone was already seated when you arrived at the dining room. Including Captain Russo. He was sitting next to Miss Page, smiling at her and talking in a hushed tone that was drawing Ethan's ire. Miss Page caught your arrival and waved at the seat beside her, sitting you opposite Mr Castle.
The Captain barely spared you a glance as you settled yourself.
There was a tension in the room, neither your brother nor Mr Castle directly talking to Captain Russo, though they all managed to involve themselves in the conversation, often using Miss Page as an intermediary.
Again, you felt out of place, uncertain of the history of the people around the table. So, you mostly stayed silent unless Miss Page or your brother dragged you into the conversation. The former wanting to talk to you about the city and the things that the pair of you should do while you were both at Netherton, the latter making awkward attempts at getting you to talk to Mr Castle.
"You like to ride, don't you?" Ethan prompted.
You shifted awkwardly — they had been talking about going for a ride, and you had hoped to stay out of it.
"Not as much as you," you answered, not wanting to show him up by telling him that he was mistaken.
"Nonsense, you used to love riding when you were younger," Ethan continued. "Castle has a stable full of fine horses, I'm sure he can find one you like."
You didn't dare mention that you had loved riding when you were younger until you were thrown from your pony and broke your arm. Since then, you'd only ridden horses reluctantly and only over short distances. What they were talking about was a whole afternoon on horseback.
"Of course," Mr Castle agreed. "The best way of seeing all of Netherton is on horseback."
All you managed to offer was a smile and a polite nod, and the conversation moved on without you again.
Once the main course was finished, the doors opened and the two large dogs padded into the room. You did your best not to look as the hounds began to sniff around the table for scraps. Mr Castle offered them some chicken from his plate, and once that was gone, they headed to the Captain.
Your cheeks warmed as he spoke to the dogs in that low, caring tone. The softness of his voice caused a heat in your belly that you didn't understand or want to think about.
Then one of the dogs headed for you.
You tensed as the large, brown and white mottled hound pressed his snout onto your lap and sniffed. Part of you screamed to push it away, to try and assert some kind of dominance over the creature but, instead, you remained frozen, unable to move or speak. The dog took your inaction as a sign to continue, to press closer, dripping jowls and wet nose leaving damp patches on your dress.
"He likes you," Mr Castle said with a laugh.
"Just give him your left-overs," Ethan added.
Then the pair promptly returned to their conversation.
The following seconds felt like a lifetime, and you didn't move until a low sound vibrated in the back of the dog's throat — even then, all you did was straighten your back.
"For god's sake," Captain Russo spoke loud enough to draw the attention of the room, getting to his feet to pull the hound away from you.
"Leave him, he's not hurting anyone," Mr Castle snapped. The first time he'd directly spoken to the Captain since you'd arrived.
"Can't you see she's terrified? Or do you care so little about the comfort of your guest that you're choosing to ignore it?" The Captain said, grabbing the dog by the scruff and urging it away from you.
Mr Castle looked at you and whatever he was going to say to his brother died on his lips. His expression softened to one of near-shame when he realised that the Captain was right.
The room was silent as the dogs were led outside by the footman and Captain Russo returned to his seat.
Your hands trembled as you reached for your glass and took a slow drink.
It was Ethan that spoke first, and you weren't sure you'd ever hated your brother more than in that moment.
"You're not still scared of dogs after Duchess, are you?" He almost sneered. When Mr Castle gave him a questioning look, Ethan explained. "I had a dog named Duchess and she did not like my sister. One day she had to climb into a tree just to get away from her — how long were you up there? Hours?"
He told the story as if it was some fun caper that you could laugh about now, ignoring the part where he'd often goaded the dog into harassing you or how, on the day in question, the dog had clawed your arm and torn your dress.
"That's awful," Miss Page said, clutching a hand to her heart. "Ethan, you've always had such a cruel sense of humour."
Again, you allowed the conversation to abandon you, though this time you didn't even attempt to follow it. You were too distracted by the Captain and how he had been the only one in the room to notice your discomfort, the only one to try and help.
Was that the life you could expect with Mr Castle — him watching your panic and only offering the slightest apologetic look after the fact?
With Miss Page sitting beside you, you might as well have not existed. She was the centre of attention and conversation, and you couldn't blame anyone for that. While you sat, quiet and uncomfortable, the American spoke with ease about any and all topics. Including the ones she knew little about. If you were feeling particularly daring, you might have thought that all of the men at the table were vying for her affections.
No, more than that. They loved her.
The glances between her and Mr Castle weren't just looks between old friends. No, there was a yearning in his eyes, a barely restrained wanting behind every word he spoke to her.
And Captain Russo similarly seemed utterly captivated by her.
That thought set an uncomfortable weight in your stomach; both the man who your brother wanted to court you and the man who had kissed you not six hours ago already had someone in their lives that they were more interested in than you.
It left you feeling despondent and hollow. How could you be expected to court a man whose affections lay with someone else? Up until that moment, you'd convinced yourself that a good match would be enough, that love and affection were things that could be worked towards later. But how could you have even that if his heart was with Miss Page.
The Captain laughed and your heart sank further. You were everyone's second choice, it seemed.
You waited until the clock struck nine, then you stood, making your excuses for the night — it was late, you were tired, you wanted to be refreshed so you could spend the next day with Miss Page.
A sigh of relief half choked you the moment you left the dining room and realised that Mr Castle had followed you. His hand found your elbow and urged you to face him.
"Miss," he said, hesitating when he saw your wide eyes, "I want to apologise for earlier — for the hounds."
Oh. So he did care after all?
(Or was he simply apologising because it was the polite and proper thing for a man of his station to do?)
"There's no need to —"
"But there is," he insisted. "I didn't realise your... history with dogs."
"You couldn't have known, sir." It was a placation and not at all what you wanted to say to him, but he was being polite and civil, so you needed to follow suit. "But I thank you for your apology."
"In future, please let me know if anything at Netherton makes you uncomfortable."
"Of course, sir."
"And I apologise for abandoning you earlier today, I —"
"Of course, sir," you said, desperately wanting the conversation to be over. "Miss Page needed an escort."
"Let me make it up to you."
"You needn't —"
"I'll talk to your brother and get his permission to accompany you and Miss Page to town tomorrow."
As awkward as that sounded, you wanted to get away from Netherton, your brother, and Captain Russo for a little while.
"Thank you, sir."
He bowed and said his goodnights before leaving you alone, more confused than ever, your mind circling back to one comment in particular. What had he meant by anything at Netherton that makes you uncomfortable?
It didn't take long to figure it out. He hadn't been apologising because of the dogs, he'd been apologising because his brother had been the one to notice and help you. As quickly as the hope that he could harbour anything resembling care towards you had sparked in your chest, it was snuffed out by the reality of your situation. And, as if on cue, laughter rang out from the dining room.
Instead of heading to your room, where you anticipated an evening with nothing but your own awful thoughts for company, you went to the library.
Given the late hour, you had to take a candle to light your way.
The library was cold when you slipped inside, but the sconces were still burning, giving the room an ethereal glow. And, for the first time that day, you felt you could breathe.
You wandered along the bookcases, as you had done earlier that day, looking for anything and everything that might spark your interest. Eventually you came across a book of fairy tales, similar to a book that you had at home and that had brought you a lot of joy in your childhood, despite the darkness of the tales.
Ignoring the chill in the room, you sat in one of the armchairs by the window, your candle flickering on a nearby table, the book open on your lap. It was easy to lose track of time reading about princes and balls and wicked step-sisters cutting off their toes in order to secure a marriage.
You were so engrossed in the book that you didn't notice someone enter the library until the door clicked shut.
"Captain!" You got to your feet so quickly that the book dropped from your lap.
He said nothing, merely smiling as he moved towards you and scooped the book from the floor. He didn't offer the book to you, didn't even look at it — no, his eyes were fixed on you.
The room was so silent, so still that you could hear the guttering of one of the sconce candles. It was so quiet, you wondered if the Captain could hear your raging heartbeat as you held his gaze. You found yourself thinking of that moment in the maze, losing yourself in dark eyes that seemed almost pitch black in the low light, making him look like a devil. An unholy temptation.
Heat spread up your chest and neck as his eyes flickered to your mouth, his tongue peeking out to wet his own lips.
Your legs trembled at the realisation that he was thinking about the kiss too.
"Captain," you said again, softly this time, breaking the silence.
"I... I wanted to check if you were alright," he said just as quietly, as if it were some lover's confession.
"I'm fine, Captain," you said, breath catching as he took a step closer, "but thank you for your assistance."
"I couldn't bear the sight of you in distress."
Before you could fully appreciate the full weight of his words his knuckles brushed your cheek.
"Captain..." This time the word came with a hint of warning. And pleading.
He didn't draw back his hand. The only effort he made to move it was to turn it so he could cup your cheek.
You desperately fought to force down the lump in your throat so you could say anything more than just Captain. His hand was warm and gentle against your cheek and you dared to lean into the touch, eyes fluttering shut for a few sweet seconds before reality reared its ugly head.
"Please. Don't..." you said, forcing yourself to step away from his touch.
"I can't help myself when I'm with you."
You needed to get out of there. You needed to get as far away from him as possible. If you didn't, you were scared of what you might allow to happen. Taking the book from his hands, you crossed the library, trying to remember which shelf it had come from.
"Miss," he pleaded, only a step behind you. When you reached the shelves and found no space for the book, you turned to face him.
"Please, Captain... Whatever game this is, I don't want to play."
"Game? You think this is a game?" If you didn't know better, you might have thought the accusation had wounded him in some way.
"I think that you and your brother are eager to destroy the other's happiness in any way that you can."
His gaze darkened, his whole face eclipsed by shadow as the candle continued to gutter and flicker.
"You think that you'll make him happy — that he is capable of making you happy?"
The lump in your throat was almost enough to choke you. "Do you believe that you are?"
He was silent for a few seconds, completely still.
"Can you truthfully say that you don't yearn for companionship in this godforsaken house? For someone who actually sees you?" He asked.
"I fear that it's more than mere companionship that you want from me, Captain," you said, finding a slither of defiance somewhere deep inside you. "And if you overheard my brother and I last night, you already know that the choice has been made; your brother wishes to court me, and my brother wishes me to marry Mr Castle."
The words were almost enough to make him retreat.
"Does he make you want?" The Captain asked. "Does he make your heart race and your soul ache?" You remained silent. "Don't you think you deserve that much?"
Deserve? You weren't sure, but you wanted it. You wanted to be loved and cherished. You wanted to feel like you belonged with someone instead of just feeling like you were taking up space in their life.
It would have been so easy to surrender, to throw yourself into his arms for the smallest scrape of affection that he might offer, but something stopped you.
"And you think you can make me feel those things?" You asked, words a little more pointed. "You want me to feel those things for you while you feel them for another?"
His brows furrowed. "What other?"
"Don't play me for the fool, Captain. I might be younger than you, but I saw the way you looked at Miss Page — the way you all look at her." An unexpected hurt slipped into your voice betraying the awful jealousy that had been roiling inside of you since dinner.
"Miss Page is like a sister to me," he said. "What I feel for her is nothing compared to the way I feel when I look at you."
You edged backwards, needing to lean on the bookshelves for support as your legs threatened to give out beneath you.
"You hardly know me, Captain," you said, suddenly feeling breathless. "In fact, you've known me less than a day..."
"More. It's been over a full day since our dance — longer since I first saw you standing alone in the ballroom."
Each rapid beat of your heart felt like it was battering against the inside of your rib cage, and the heat of shame (and something else) spread through your body.
He remembered the exact time you'd danced, the moment you'd met, and the moment he'd first laid eyes on you. In any other situation it would feel romantic, but with the Captain, it felt... dangerous.
"Still, you know nothing about me —"
"I know you like to read and you love the outdoors," he said, daring to step closer. "And I know that you don't belong at Netherton with a man like my brother. Everything else, I'll gladly learn."
"Sir, I —" his lips met yours before you could finish your protest. The half-finished comment leaving your lips parted, allowing his tongue into your mouth. The book dropped from your hand.
A soft gasp spilled from your mouth and into his as he pressed you back against the shelves. Everything around you fell quiet save for your heart pounding a treacherous beat for Captain Russo. If you'd been thinking straight, you might have wondered if he could feel it rattling beneath your ribs as he pressed himself impossibly close. But, as it stood, you were more consumed with other ways the Captain was pressed against you.
You didn't realise at first what the hardness against your stomach was but once you did, it became impossible to ignore.
"You make me want," he muttered against your lips, and it was almost enough to completely undo you and have you offering him anything he wanted. But it was wrong and, at any moment, you could be discovered.
You pushed against his chest, forcing him away. You needed space, needed to be able to breathe, to think. His hands gripped the shelves on either side of your head, caging you in, and his forehead pressed against yours. Every breath he took sounded forced and raw, like he was barely holding himself together.
"I know you can feel it — this thing between us," he said in little more than a whisper.
"You're mistaken, sir." Though the tremor in your voice said otherwise. "But if I've done something that has made you believe that any feelings I harbour for you are anything more than simple friendship, then I apologise. It was never my intention to —"
"Stop," his voice remained low but there was no missing the pained edge. "Don't you understand that you've bewitched me? That you're all I can think about?"
"Sir, if I've done something to —"
"William," he reminded. "Call me William."
"It wouldn't be proper."
"Fuck propriety."
Then his lips were on yours again and all the fight drained from you. This time when you felt his tongue against the seam of your mouth, you parted for him, letting him devour you. No one had ever kissed you the way he did — you hadn't even known that people could kiss in such a way.
His fingers gripped the back of your neck, gentle but also possessive, holding you in the kiss. You were lifted, but his lips swallowed down your gasp of surprise and you were too overwhelmed to really complain. The skirts of your dress bunched up as your legs wrapped around his waist to keep yourself from falling.
It was easy to lose yourself to him. Scarily so. Though you weren't sure if it was him at all. Ever since losing your parents, all you had wanted was an ounce of affection, the tiniest slither of love. It didn't need to be the way it was in your books and stories, it just needed to be enough to make you feel as though you mattered to someone. And Captain Russo had a way of making you feel exactly that.
Despite your doubts and worries about the man, he had a strange, almost magical way of silencing every thought in your head.
When you made no attempt to push him away again, he pressed closer, his hips settling between your thighs and —
"Oh!" The sound was quickly devoured by his kiss, his lips pulling into a smile against yours.
He repeated the motion, pressing forward again, the hardness of his anatomy meeting the soft and incredibly heated part of yours. It was like nothing you'd ever felt before — a glorious longing ache that sparked a fire in your belly — and you wanted more. Your body sang for him, capitulating to his every whim and desire.
A daring hand found your breast through your dress and you knew that you should stop, that you should remind him just what would happen if you were discovered, but the heat of his palm and the constant grinding of his hips was threatening to undo you.
Your breathing quickly turned laboured and you caught yourself writhing against his every movement, eager to see how deep the sensation between your thighs would run before something inevitably snapped inside you. The heat only intensified and you felt a slickness in your undergarments that you couldn't explain.
"Captain!" You gasped, not sure what you were pleading for.
His forehead pressed to yours again, his chest rapidly rising and falling. "Just give in to me."
Then his lips were on yours again, reigniting the kiss and stopping you from asking exactly what he meant. But, as it happened, you didn't have to. That feeling inside of you burned brighter and hotter as the shift of his hips became more pronounced, and the friction between you became unbearable.
Your whole body shuddered and trembled, and you felt a pulsing sensation of pure pleasure between your thighs, something profound and amazing. Something you'd never felt before. You clung to him, the sensation only seeming to grow as he kept moving against you until he let out a strangled groan of his own and his hips faltered.
There was a new heat between your bodies, hot and wet, soaking through the fabric of your underthings.
He lingered with you in his arms, holding you tight, the kiss turning softer, reverent. When you had stopped trembling, he lowered you back to your feet and took a step back.
In that moment, you were ready to give him anything he wanted, yourself included. You wanted all the things he'd spoken about; the racing heart and the aching soul. You wanted all of it with him.
But then he took another step back, putting himself out of your reach.
"You should go to bed, Miss," he said, the warmth gone from his voice. "I hear my brother is taking you and Miss Page to town in the morning."
He sketched a bow and before you could even form a coherent thought, he was gone, and you were alone again.
A/N : It's so nice having a keyboard that doesn't fall apart when I hit keys at the wrong angle. I'm hoping that I'll now be able to get back to some sort of regular posting schedule and be able to actually engage with people on here again. It also helps that I'm now getting to the parts of the story that are a little more fun to write, so that should make things easier going forward. But yeah, as always thanks so much for your patience, hope you enjoy this one!
New chapters will hopefully be posted weekly (I'm being kinder to myself an not imposing such a strict deadline with this one). Let me know if you want to be tagged.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18
So, a little bit of a good news, bad news situation;
Good news? I finally got a new laptop and I can now type at my normal speed without keys falling off the keyboard.
Bad news? I'm working some extra shifts to pay for said laptop, so my writing time over the last week has been little to nothing. And, on top of that, I bought a MacBook... I've never had a MacBook before, so this is a slight learning curve.
However, I'm really hoping that I'll have the next chapter of Universally Acknowledged finished by Monday night at the latest. Then, going forward, I should hopefully be able to get back into some kind of posting schedule again.
Plot Summary : It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man of dwindling fortune, will do whatever it takes to replenish his coffers. Even if that means seeking a suitable marriage match for his sister against her wishes. After arranging for you to spend the season with affluent Mr Castle of Netherton Park, your world is turned upside down. Not by Mr Castle as your brother intended, but by his roguish adopted brother Captain Russo.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing noteworthy in this chapter. All chapters will contain some mention of arranged marriages, age gap, and the gender imbalances/misogyny of the Regency Era. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.6k
A/N : work keeps getting in the way of writing and I need it to stop
Chapter List : Chapter One
Chapter Two
Time stood still and you devoured every little detail.
Without his mask, you found yourself hungrily taking in every inch of his face, wanting to see the man who had managed to cause such drama in your life in such a short time. Even with half his face covered, you'd been able to tell that he was handsome, but the whole picture was something else entirely.
Mr Castle's words echoed in your mind as your eyes caught on his, and you faltered. Vain and selfish, and liable to take advantage of you.
"Ah, let me guess — my brother has informed you of my bad character?" He asked, an easy smile on his lips. "He told you — what? — that I seduce and ruin fair maidens as part of some nefarious plan to embarrass him?"
"Well..." you left the word to hang between you while you considered how to respond. "Yes, something like that."
He paused for a beat, then said; "if you truly believe it, then I suggest you take your leave, Miss. I wouldn't want to risk tarnishing your good name."
For reasons beyond your understanding, you found yourself stepping towards him, not away. "Why did you ask me to dance?"
Was Mr Castle right — had the whole thing just been some farce just to get to him? You weren't sure you wanted to know the answer, but you felt like you needed to. No, you deserved to know if you were being toyed with as part of a spat between brothers.
"Because you looked lonely," he said.
Lonely and not simply alone. No one else had noticed that. Or, if they had, they hadn't cared.
The Captain stood away from the balustrade and took a step towards you.
"I saw you watching the dancing like you wanted to join in, but no one asked you to be their partner," he continued. "I'll admit that I saw you speaking to my brother and — I know all too well what he's like, but I didn't want your acquaintance with him to keep you from enjoying the ball."
"Why would my being acquainted with Mr Castle keep me from enjoying the ball?" You asked. Oh, you knew it was a dangerous game you were playing and that if even half of what you'd been told about Captain Russo was true, you'd end up in a lot of trouble, but you wanted to know more about the man your brother had all but promised you to. And who better to ask than his own brother?
"Frank may throw these balls and fancy parties, and he may be well regarded by society, but he's not liked. He's proud, abrasive, and single-minded. All he cares about is himself and his own idea of what's right." He looked at you and, despite your mask, he saw the shock on your face. "Does my forwardness offend you?"
"No, it's just... I never expected you to be so open in your disdain for each other." While you were no stranger to sibling quarrels, you'd never dare speak so candidly about Ethan with a stranger (or with anyone at all, if you were being honest).
"How does the saying go? You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family." He flashed you a smile that caused a swooping sensation to fill your stomach, and you felt a strange kinship with him at that moment. "So," he said, and let the word hang in the air.
"So?"
"Do you believe me to be the villain they say I am? Does being here with me unchaperoned make you feel as if your reputation is at risk?" The smile on his lips suggested he was joking, but the edge to his words was serious.
You were silent for a few seconds weighing his words and the situation you found yourself in. Being alone with a man you'd had no real formal introduction to was certainly frowned upon but you had no wish to return to the ball — just the thought of having to face Mr Castle again had your stomach churning. Not to mention, both Mr Castle and your brother had seemed upset at the thought of you being near the Captain, which should have been reason enough to walk away from him. But how were they any better, with their scheming and conniving?
"I wanted to dance," you finally said and offered a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know anyone here and you were kind enough to ask."
It wasn't an answer but it softened his expression and he dared to step closer still.
"Well, having seen you dance, I think it would have been a shame to leave you wanting for a partner." His words stoked a strange feeling inside of you, a tickling in your stomach accompanied by a growing warmth.
An awkward laugh slipped out. "I fell over my own feet."
"I caught you off-guard," he shrugged.
"No one told me that Mr Castle had a brother," you offered the obvious. "It surprised me."
"Your brother and I have never seen eye to eye. It's understandable that he didn't mention me."
"Where did you meet?" You asked, wanting to unravel the mystery of the man in front of you and why he was so disliked.
"At school — for the short while I attended," he said, flashing another smile. "Your brother is part of the reason I left and decided to enlist in the military."
"Oh." You weren't sure what else you were supposed to say to such a revelation, whether it was right or proper for you to ask for more information.
"It seems I'm the only one capable of letting go of old grudges." He took another step, coming to stop in front of you. Your chin lifted so you could hold his gaze, and you noticed the faint silver lines of scars across his cheek that had previously been concealed by his mask. "I hope that what's in the past between myself and your brother won't affect our friendship, Miss."
"Our... friendship?"
"Yes, I would very much like for us to be friends."
You froze as he reached for you, fingertips ghosting across your cheek, just below your mask. He moved slowly, following the edge of the mask, then the ribbon. Your breath caught as he finally tugged at the bow and your mask fell away.
"There you are," he said softly, fingers returning to your cheek for a lingering second before dropping away. "It's nice to finally meet you."
Heat flushed your face, and the sensation in your stomach grew more uncontrollable. You stammered out your name, realising that you'd not offered it before now.
"William," he said in response.
"Captain, I couldn't possibly —"
He silenced you with your name, then repeated; "I want us to be friends."
His hand moved again, this time brushing against your arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
When you heard your name again, it was not from his lips. You turned back towards the doors to see your brother approaching, irritation clear on his face.
"I thought I told you not to embarrass me," he snapped. Your heart faltered in your chest as he glanced behind you. "What are you doing out here alone?"
Alone?
You dared a glance over your shoulder. The Captain was gone. It was almost as if he'd never really been there to begin with. Had you imagined your conversation with him? No — no, you could still feel the faint tingle on your arm where his cold fingers had been, and your mask was on the floor.
"I needed some air," you retorted, bending to collect your mask. "And it's rich of you to suggest that I'm the cause of any embarrassment."
"Meaning?"
"You lied to me. You brought me here on the pretence that I had a choice, that I —"
"Choice?" He repeated, barely holding back a laugh. "You've had choice for years and have done nothing with it."
"Because of you, because you have squandered our money and good name, and —"
His hand gripped your arm, killing the tingling sensation left by the Captain, replacing it with pain. You immediately started to struggle, trying to wrench away from him, but that only caused him to tighten his grip.
"Have a care how you speak to me, sister. I said that you will have an engagement by the end of the season but, if you prefer, I can have you wed by the end of the week," he said, his voice low. When you didn't offer any further resistance, he continued; "you will allow Frank to court you, and when he asks for your hand, I will allow it."
He held onto you for a moment longer, then let go. You staggered back and glared at your brother, though you didn't dare say any of the nasty thoughts that were currently swirling around your head.
"If you've had your fill of the ball, you should return to your room," he said, turning to head back towards the door. "Oh, and sister? Stay away from Captain Russo."
It wasn't until he was gone that you felt able to breathe again, though, when you did, it came out as a series of awkward, gasped sobs. It wasn't the first time that you'd argued, but it was the first time he'd managed to make you feel so small, so worthless. You wanted nothing more than to turn and walk into the night, to lose yourself in the grounds of Netherton Park, and perhaps stumble upon Captain Russo again.
But you didn't.
You weren't brave enough to wander into the darkness in search of a man you barely knew, and you didn't have the courage to defy your brother.
Despite everything that had happened that evening, sleep found you easily after you returned to your rooms and crawled into bed. Your worries were no match for your exhaustion after the five hour carriage ride, and you didn't wake until Jane entered your room and pulled open the curtains.
You squinted against the morning light, streaming in through the windows, and moved in a daze as Jane helped you dress yourself for breakfast. It had been years since you'd had a lady's maid, so the whole thing felt surreal. But you were glad of the help — glad of the company, really.
She told you little facts about the house, how it had been in the Castle family for generations, and how, over the coming weeks, several events would be held that were often the talk of the season.
"And Mr Castle's brother, Captain Russo, does he often attend these events?" You dared to ask, once she'd finished describing a lavish garden party that was due to be held in the coming week.
"When he's here... though only if he's in the master's good graces," she said before shooting you a sheepish look, worried that she'd said too much.
"I understand that they don't always see eye to eye," you told her. Even though you didn't really know the full details, you understood that the brother had a fractious relationship, and Jane didn't need to feel bad about mentioning it.
"Does he stay at the house when he's here?" Perhaps it wasn't prudent to be asking about the brother of the man you were being matched with, but you couldn't help yourself.
"No, the Captain has a cottage on the edge of the estate — it was a gift to him from Mistress Castle before she passed," Jane explained, as she pulled your hair from your face and started to braid it. "It's a lovely home, well looked after while the Captain was in France."
Your heart gave an awkward lurch. You hadn't even considered that he might have been to war. Was that where the scar on his cheek had come from? Was it his only injury?
While Jane fixed your hair, your mind wandered. You found yourself thinking more and more about the man who already managed to cause such an unexpected disturbance in your life. He was something new, something different to what you were used to, that was all. You'd spent so long at home, surrounded by the same social circle and longing for something more, that you found yourself quite obsessed with the idea of him.
Just the idea, mind.
It was, you had decided, infinitely easier to like the idea of a man than like the man himself.
Mr Castle was a prime example of that, and you were sure you'd quickly learn his brother's shortcomings if given more time to get to know him.
"He's asked the kitchen staff to save him a space at dinner tonight." Jane's words pulled you from your thoughts.
"The Captain will be at dinner?"
Jane nodded. "Providing the Master allows it — though I don't see why he wouldn't."
Again, she seemed to remember herself and that she might be sharing a little too much. At that moment, you decided that you liked Jane.
Ethan and Mr Castle were already at breakfast when Jane led you to the dining room, their voices carrying down the hallway.
"You didn't tell me he was going to be here." Ethan. He sounded annoyed.
"It doesn't change anything," Mr Castle said. "He knows to stay out of the way."
Before you overheard any more, Jane opened the door and announced you. Both men rose from the table and Mr Castle gave a bow. You curtsied and quickly moved to the seat Jane had pulled out for you.
"Good morning. How did you sleep?" Castle asked.
"Fine, thank you." You answered.
"I didn't see you after our dance."
"I'm sorry, I was tired from travelling." From the corner of your eyes you saw Ethan give the slightest nod, approving of your answer.
Mr Castle offered a hum that seemed to suggest that he didn't really care and was only asking as a formality. You busied yourself with the plate placed in front of you and started to eat.
Both men turned their attention to the morning's papers, occasionally muttering and grumbling about current affairs in the country and abroad. In another life, you would perhaps have liked to have been included in the conversation, but you knew from experience that Ethan didn't believe you educated enough to understand, and his comment about embarrassing him still stung.
So, you ate in silence, only speaking on the rare occasions you were spoken to. All the while, you wondered if this was how your mornings would play out if you ended up married to Mr Castle. God, why had you let Ethan talk you into coming on this trip?
The butler appeared just as the plates were being cleared from the table, and handed Mr Castle a note. He read it and then let out a laboured sigh.
"I'm needed in town."
"I'll come with you," Ethan was quick to offer. "I have some business I need to attend to."
"Can I —" you started to ask.
"I don't have time to waste watching you looking at dresses and ribbons," Ethan said, not even letting you finish.
At least Mr Castle managed to give you a sympathetic glance. "I'm sorry, Miss. I know I promised to give you a tour today."
"It's alright, Sir. I'm sure I can find my own way," you answered, trying to be glad of the fact you wouldn't have to spend the day with him.
He looked at you for a second more then offered little more than a grunt and a nod of his head.
It was for the best really. After everything that had happened, you wanted some time alone, some time to walk and wander. And, while you would have preferred to do that in the city, where there was more to distract you, you were certain Netherton wouldn't be without its charms.
Jane showed you to the library and, as expected, you were left stunned by the sheer size of it but, much like the home's owner, it was cold and unwelcoming. Neglected and abandoned, it seemed even the staff didn't bother with it. Still, you decided that you would take stock of the room and find yourself something to read... just not today.
The sun was shining and you were itching to wander the grounds and escape the stale air of the house. You had a book of your own, that you grabbed along with a shawl before heading outside. Jane stopped you on the way, pointing you towards a small lake on the grounds and promising you a tour once she had finished her morning duties.
The lake was stunning but it was the trees that made your heart sing. A weeping willow stood on its banks and you soon made yourself comfortable beneath its branches, reclining against the thick trunk as you read.
The warm sun and gentle breeze were enough to relax you almost to the point of sleep. You let your book slip from your hand and closed your eyes. Of course, you had no intention of sleeping, all you really wanted was to rest your eyes and enjoy the quiet. It was only a few minutes — at least, you thought it was — before a shadow fell over you, blocking the sun's warmth.
You squinted, struggling to make out his face as light haloed around him. For a sleepy second, you wondered if this was some angelic visitation but, when you realised it was Captain Russo, you believed it might be the opposite.
"Captain?" You gasped, scrabbling to sit up and affect some modicum of decency.
"My mother used to like to sit under this tree and read to us as boys," he said. Your cheeks heated as he reached down and scooped up the book that had fallen from your lap, and flicked through the pages. "Thou still unravished bride of quietness, Thou foster child of silence and slow —"
Before he could finish, you were on your feet, snatching the book from his hands. You weren't sure why you were embarrassed exactly, but the way he was smiling caused your stomach to tie itself in knots. Fortunately, he gave the book up without a fight.
"Keats?" He asked, though he already seemed to know the answer.
"Yes, I was just —"
"You don't need to explain yourself."
That was a first. Ethan would have wanted to know why you were wasting your time reading poetry. Or reading at all, for that matter. There were other things that a lady of your position should be doing.
"You... you startled me," you said, clutching the book to your chest.
"I saw you out here alone," he shrugged. "And, I must confess, when I saw you were sleeping, I wanted to have some fun — oh, don't look at me like that, I know it was a cruel thing to do."
"I wasn't sleeping. I was resting my eyes," you protested.
"I didn't realise that poetry was so exhausting to the eyes," he said.
"You mock me, Sir."
"No, Miss, that's the last thing I'd ever want to do." And, as he had the night before, he reached for you, letting his fingertip ghost down your arm. You were sure that the touch was intended to be soothing, instead it caused that strange swooping sensation in your stomach again.
"Then what do you want?" It was forward but you were sick of dealing with the whims of men.
"As I said last night; I want to be your friend," he said, drawing back his hand.
"Why? I won't be pulled into whatever feud exists between you and my brother."
"What happened between Ethan and me is long in the past. If a feud exists, it's one sided."
The rational part of you knew that trusting him was likely to get in trouble one way or another but the other piece of you — the part that was desperately lonely and in want of a friend? — that part wanted to take him at his word.
Tension drained from your body and you took a slow breath. He watched, waiting to see if you had some sharp response for him.
After a few seconds of silence, he asked; "you've only been here a day, surely he can't have abandoned you already?"
It took you a moment to decide that the he in question was Mr Castle.
"He had business in town that he had to attend to and, he and Ethan thought it better that..." you trailed off, hating that you sounded like you were defending them.
"Did he at least show you around?"
You shook your head. "No — though Jane offered to give me a tour once she's finished with her duties for the morning."
Captain Russo shook his head. "I must apologise for my brother, Miss. Our mother raised him better than this."
There was something in his voice, a bitterness that you didn't dare question.
"There's no need to apologise. If I'm honest, I think I prefer time alone to being forced upon someone who shares none of my interests," you said, sparing a glance to the book in your hands.
"He's not particularly —"
Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sounds of dogs barking. Instinctively, you backed away until you were pressed against the tree trunk again.
The hounds raced towards you and the Captain dropped to one knee to greet them. All you could think was that he was going to be torn apart by the blood-thirsty creatures, and you steeled yourself to be next, but their attack was nothing more than a vicious licking of the Captain's face.
He let out a laugh that caused your heart to stutter. It was like no other sound you'd heard from him, and for reasons you didn't understand, you wanted to hear it again. Something told you that he didn't laugh like that very often, making the moment feel precious, and you didn't want to interrupt.
Not that you could interrupt. No, you were pressed back against the tree as if the hounds were out for your blood.
It took the Captain close to a minute to remember you were there.
"Are you alright?" He asked, still on his knee, petting one of the dogs. His question drew their attention to you. "It's okay, they're friendly."
"So I've been told." You didn't move. You couldn't.
A frown creased his brow, then he looked at the dogs and stood.
"Go on, away with you," he gave a wave of his arm. The dogs remained until he repeated the gesture and the words.
You didn't breathe again until they were out of sight.
He cleared the distance between you in an instant, stopping before you and placing a hand on your cheek. "You're trembling."
"I... I don't care for dogs..." you muttered.
It didn't even cross your mind to pull away from the hand on your cheek. In fact, you found you quite liked the warmth of his touch, and the way his dark eyes softened as he looked at you. You could have remained in that moment for the rest of the day if he'd let you, feeling like someone finally cared enough about you to take notice of your feelings.
"Let me give you a tour of the grounds," he offered softly, his hand dropping from your cheek to your shoulder.
"I don't want to impose." You became vaguely aware that the book clasped against your chest was the only thing keeping his body from yours.
"It wouldn't be an imposition. I offered," he said. "Please, allow me to make up for my brother's neglect."
The hand on your shoulder gave a gentle squeeze and, against your better judgement, you nodded. "If you're sure."
He smiled and dropped the hand from your shoulder only to offer you his arm, which you took with little hesitation. "I think you'll love the gardens."
And you did.
Captain Russo — he still couldn't get you to call him William — led you around every inch of the garden that you wanted to see, listening to you as you showed off your knowledge of various plants and flowers. Not once did he make you feel like he was indulging you, or that you were wasting his time. It seemed like he genuinely wanted to be there with you.
When you weren't speaking, he was. He told you little snippets about his life growing up at Netherton; how his mother had adopted him at age eight because she desperately wanted a second child. Despite having questions about him, you preferred to let him speak and share only what he wanted you to know.
And you told him what little there was to know about you. All said and done, it wasn't much. You hadn't had much of a life beyond the occasional ball, and friends were so few and far between that they didn't seem worth mentioning.
Despite learning about him, you still didn't know him, but the longer you spent with him, the more you noticed things. Like the far away look he got in his eyes when he mentioned his mother, and the way his shoulder ticked upwards whenever he spoke of his childhood. You hung on his every word, hoping that you'd get more from him than little stories about where his mother liked to read or her favourite flowers in the garden, but he always managed to avoid giving you anything tangible, anything that made him him.
After a long meandering wander through the gardens, you both stopped at the entrance to hedgemaze.
"Do you know the way?" You asked, unable to keep a smile from your lips as you craved your neck to take in the full height of the hedges.
From what you'd been able to tell from your window, the maze was big enough that you could easily get lost in it.
"Why?" He asked, mirroring your smile with one of his own. "Scared of getting lost with me?"
"No, not even a little bit." The realisation struck you the second the words left your mouth. You weren't scared to be around him, nor were you worried or uncomfortable. He didn't make you feel like most of the men in your life, like you had to suppress any spark of joy in case it was seen as unseemly. You felt an odd sense of freedom with him, and you wanted to embrace it while it lasted.
"In that case..." He let go of your arm and took off into the maze at a jog.
You hesitated all but a second before starting after him, following as he disappeared around one bend and then another. Gathering your skirts up, you tried to match his pace, but found you couldn't even come close. He turned from time to time, grinning at you, but never letting you catch up. It seemed like he barely had to look to know where he was going — at least, you hoped he knew where he was going.
After taking a sharp left, you suddenly found yourself alone and faced with two paths. You came to a standstill, looking one way, then the other, trying to find any sign of him.
"Captain?" You called quietly at first then, again, a little louder. "Captain?"
"I've told you, call me William," came a disembodied voice from somewhere further in the maze.
You took a step towards the sound before stopping, second guessing yourself.
"Where are you?" You asked.
"Why don't you come find me?"
Left. His voice was definitely coming from the left. Three steps later, indecision had you freezing again. You weren't sure what bothered you more; the idea of getting lost or the thought of not finding him.
"I — I can't," you confessed, an awful feeling of uselessness filling you. Perhaps Ethan was right, perhaps you really were useless without a man to help you.
"You can."
"No, I — I can't." You ignored the tremor in your voice and turned to look back the way that you'd come, wondering if you'd be able to find your way back if he abandoned you. No, probably not.
A branch snapped behind you and you turned in time to see Captain Russo emerging from the left path. (You'd been right, and you hated yourself for not trusting your instincts.)
The smile on his lips faded the moment your gaze met his. "You didn't think I was going to leave you, did you?"
Your silence said more than words ever could. You felt ridiculous, dramatic even, for thinking it but, yes, you'd thought he was going to leave you. It wasn't so much a criticism of his character but, rather, of all the men in your life. Ethan would have left you, and you got the impression that Mr Castle would have too.
But Captain Russo was standing in front of you, proof that you were wrong -- at least, about him.
He offered you his hand, and you took it without hesitation, letting him hold you tight as he started to pull you after him. It was easy to forget that one awkward little moment when he started to pick up speed, leading you deeper and deeper into the maze.
"Are you sure you know where you're going?" You asked.
"I've been walking this maze for most of my life," he said. "Trust me."
Strangely, you wanted to. You wanted to be able to trust someone.
He took another left, then a right, moving faster and faster. You let out a laugh — not one of the polite little laughs you often found yourself laughing for the benefit of others, but a joyous and happy laugh. This was fun. You were having fun.
You rounded another corner and entered a wide, open space filled with marble benches and alcoves containing statues. The Captain came to a stop beside you, keeping your hand in his. Or... maybe it was you keeping hold of his hand.
"It took me years to be able to find it on my own," he confessed. "My mother used to bring me here when it was just the two of us."
You looked at him, a clear question in your mind, but you didn't voice it.
"What?" He asked softly, leading you to one of the benches.
"I just..." you tried in vain to keep yourself from becoming flustered under his attention. "You were adopted?"
It came out as a question, and it took him a few seconds to understand what you were trying to ask; he called her mother and spoke of her with an unexpected fondness.
"I was, but I loved her all the same. It broke my heart when she passed..." he trailed off and took a seat, prompting you to sit beside him. "But you must know something about that?"
All you could do was nod, still unable to talk about the loss of your mother, despite the two years that had passed.
"It's lovely here," you said instead. "I can see why you like it."
"I don't get to come here very often anymore..."
"Because of your brother?" You asked and he nodded. You hesitated a second before daring to ask; "what happened between you?"
"He believes I betrayed him."
"Did you?"
"No."
More questions formed in your mind, but they were quickly pushed away. You'd already asked more than was proper and the subject seemed to cause a darkness in the Captain that you didn't like.
The sound of your name being called cut through the silence and you got to your feet. After a second, it came again and you realised it was Jane. You took a step forward, lips parting, ready to answer her, when you were suddenly moved backwards, led into one of the alcoves behind a statue by Captain Russo. A gasp slipped from you when you felt branches at your back, but before you could ask what he was doing, he pressed a finger to your lips.
He was standing so close that you could feel the heat of his body against you. At some point your hands had ended up on his chest, grasping his jacket, but it didn't even cross your mind to let go. No, you were too busy staring at him, getting lost in his dark eyes.
Dark eyes that dipped to your mouth and had you nervously worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. His finger remained there, keeping you silent as Jane continued to call, her voice slowly getting louder and louder.
The Captain stayed where he was, even after it became clear that Jane was getting closer.
"Captain," you said in a breathless whisper, pleading with that one word — for what, you didn't know. You didn't want to get caught like this with him.
"Don't marry him," he said quietly. You stared, confused. "I overheard you and Ethan last night — don't marry my brother, don't subject us both to that misery."
His finger was replaced by his lips, and you froze. He kissed you softly, the briefest peck that you indulged for less than a second before pushing away from him, Mr Castle's words from the night before echoing in your mind.
Had this all been part of some awful scheme to take advantage of you and embarrass his brother after all? Were you just a pawn in whatever game he was playing against his brother?
Before he could reach for you, you stepped out of the alcove and found Jane searching for you. Captain Russo had the good sense not to reveal himself.
"There you are," she said.
"Sorry, I got lost — could you show me back to the house?"
You didn't look back as she led you away.
A/N : So, yeah, work has been a nightmare but, thankfully, I'm finally going to be getting a new laptop this month, so it'll all be worth it! Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, Billy will definitely be more of a menace to reader going forward.
New chapters will hopefully be posted weekly (I'm being kinder to myself an not imposing such a strict deadline with this one). Let me know if you want to be tagged.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18
Plot Summary : It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man of dwindling fortune, will do whatever it takes to replenish his coffers. Even if that means seeking a suitable marriage match for his sister against her wishes. After arranging for you to spend the season with affluent Mr Castle of Netherton Park, your world is turned upside down. Not by Mr Castle as your brother intended, but by his roguish adopted brother Captain Russo.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing noteworthy in this chapter. All chapters will contain some mention of arranged marriages, age gap, and the gender imbalances/misogyny of the Regency Era. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.2k
A/N : hold on to your buns, we've got a Wickham coded Billy.
Chapter One
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man of dwindling fortune, will do whatever it takes to replenish his coffers. Even if that means seeking a suitable marriage match for his sister against her wishes.
Your soft sigh caused the window to fog. Not that there was much of a view — it had been hills and fields for hours, and the city was still nowhere in sight. You'd tried to pass the time with a book, but the motion of the carriage made it impossible to focus without feeling queasy. Then, you'd made the mistake of trying to talk to Ethan, and... well, suffice to say that your brother had not been in the mood for conversation.
It was fine.
Everything was going to be fine.
That was what your mother had always told you as she sat beside you and smoothed the creases from your brow — though, admittedly, you would have been more inclined to believe it if she hadn't died and started the whole sorry chain of events that had led you to this moment.
But you didn't want to dwell on the past. You didn't want to think about your parents and what their wishes for you might have been. It was too late for any of that. Running a household was expensive, and keeping you in the lifestyle to which you were accustomed was no easy task. And, even you had to admit that Ethan had a point; in a couple of years your prospects would evaporate and you'd be seen as a spinster.
Not that spinsterhood bothered you. No, you just didn't want Ethan to have to devote his life to your care. It hardly fostered any sense of sibling affection when he'd already been thrust into the role of parent for most of your adolescence, and you'd already had more than enough of his complaining to last a lifetime. In fact, the only time he'd opened his mouth in the last two hours was to make muttered comments about the carriage driver and how long it was taking.
In the silence, you found your thoughts drifting to what was to come; a whole season of balls and dinners, meeting some of the most eligible bachelors in the capital. You would be paraded around like livestock at market in the hopes that one of them might want to take you as their wife.
It was bleak but expected. Honestly, you were surprised to have lasted as long as you had before Ethan suggested it.
All thoughts and worries melted away the moment you saw the faintest outline of the city on the horizon, and felt the dirt road beneath the carriage give way to smoother, maintained carriageways.
You'd always loved the city, always been fascinated by how big and wondrous it felt. Your family's small estate and the local village had become claustrophobic over the years, suffocating and repetitive. And, while you'd never dare admit it aloud, there was a part of you that longed for the more sophisticated life of those in the city; you'd dreamed of something more ever since your mother first told you about her childhood in the capital.
"I forgot how filthy it is here," Ethan grumbled, sneering out the carriage window.
You didn't let his foul mood bring you down. "Where did you say we were staying?"
Oh, you knew exactly where you were staying, but you were desperate for conversation after so many hours in silence, and it was the one topic of conversation that he wouldn't shut down.
"Netherton Park — it's been in the Castle family for generations," Ethan said, tone clipped, clearly annoyed but wanting to make sure you wouldn't embarrass him. "It's just to the south of the city."
"How far is it from the city?"
"About a half-hour by carriage. Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm sure you'll get to visit the city a couple of times while we're here."
You hadn't even realised you'd been pulling a face, but there was no denying the twinge of disappointment you felt at not being able to spend the whole season in the city itself.
"Do they hold balls in the city?" You asked.
"Of course they do — and, yes, I suppose you'll be invited to attend one or two, once the proper introductions have been made."
His emphasis on proper did not go unnoticed. Grudgingly, you had to understand where he was coming from. You'd never been particularly fond of propriety — at least, not when it came to where you were allowed and whether or not you needed an escort or an introduction. It didn't seem fair that men got all the fun and were allowed to go wherever they pleased without care or thought to ideas like chaperones or proper behaviour.
"What about shopping? I only brought three books, and —"
"You probably won't have time for reading."
You baulked at that. No time for reading? Was he expecting you to drop dead over the coming weeks?
"Reading won't help you find a suitable match," he continued. "Gentlemen want a wife who will be attentive to their needs and the needs of their homes, not someone whose nose is always in a book."
"I'm sure any man you deem suitable for me will have a house staff to attend them," you snap back.
"Don't be flippant. I should have done this a long time ago. I should have gotten you out of that house and —"
"Forced me into another house where I'll be expected to serve and lose what little enjoyment I have in my life?" You knew you were pushing your luck and his temper would only allow for so much, but you couldn't help yourself.
"That tone isn't going to help you," he said just as sharply. "By the end of the season you will have an engagement, even if I have to arrange it myself."
As much as you wanted to respond, to tell him exactly what you thought of his threats, you didn't. You'd gone far enough and didn't want to risk seriously angering him — or worse, forcing him to make good on his ultimatum. So, you allowed silence to fall again, instead turning your attention out of the window and watching as the carriage traversed the outskirts of the capital.
Another sigh slipped out as the city faded into the background again, the view once more giving way to fields and nothing of any interest.
It was a little after noon when the carriage finally passed the gates to Netherton Park, and the wild countryside gave way to immaculately trimmed hedges and rose bushes. It was nicer than you had been expecting — clearly the house staff worked hard to maintain the grounds — and suddenly, being stuck there for the season didn't seem quite so terrible. You could already see yourself wandering the grounds and finding a nice tree to sit beneath.
The carriage turned, edging around a large, ornate fountain consisting of a column of weatherworn faces caved into a pillar at its centre, water spilling from their mouths. Atop the column stood an archer, his bow pointed towards the heavens.
Before your parents had died, your family had had wealth, but it was nothing compared to this.
"Ten thousand a year," Ethan remarked, answering the unasked question.
Ten thousand — more than twice what your father had made. (And you didn't dare to think about Ethan by comparison.)
"But you mustn't mention it," Ethan continued. "Castle doesn't like to talk about money."
You jolted in your seat as the carriage finally came to a stop. Peering out the window, you took in the sight of the house. Three levels, with a grand archway over the front door. It must have been at least a hundred years old. You were so caught up with trying to count all the windows, you barely noticed the house staff waiting to greet you.
Ethan climbed past you and opened the carriage door. He stepped out, jumping the step to the ground. You waited a moment, taking a slow breath and composing yourself before finally standing.
A hand was offered to help you as you stepped onto the step and down to the ground, but it wasn't until it was pulled away that you realised that it wasn't your brother. You started, realising that it must be your host, Mr Castle who'd helped you down.
You turned to face him and offered a flustered curtsy while he bowed in return.
When you finally managed to lift your gaze to him again, you realised that there were two large hounds behind him; one completely black, the other a mottled mix of brown and white. Both sat behind their master, eyeing you. You shrank back a step.
"Don't let them scare you," Mr Castle said, when he noticed your staring. "They're all bark and no bite — well, unless you're a fox..."
You forced a polite laugh and decided not to tell him that you were just as afraid of the bark as the bite when it came to dogs of that size.
"Castle, it's good to see you again," Ethan said, offering his hand to his old friend.
"It's been too long," Mr Castle agreed. "I hope you'll find your time here at Netherton as diverting as it was the last time you graced us with your presence."
There was something in Mr Castle's gaze that sparked a discomfort inside of you — though perhaps that was just due to not wanting to think about what your brother had gotten up to in the past.
While they spoke and got reacquainted, the house staff began to buzz around, collecting your trunks from the carriage before the horses were led to the stables to rest. Mr Castle led Ethan, and by extension you, towards the house.
You took a moment to take your measure of him. He had known Ethan at school but, seeing them side by side, it was clear that Castle was a year or so older than your brother, placing him at least twelve years older than you. He was well dressed but, at the same time, didn't seem to care too much about his appearance. His cheeks were lined with stubble, ignoring the fashion of the day for men of standing to be clean shaven, and his hair curled over his ears, long enough to need cutting.
There was something rakish about him, you supposed. The odd set of his nose suggested a break at some point — was he a violent man? The thought unsettled you. In fact, that you knew so little about him at all unsettled you. All you had to go on were the tales your brother had half-told about a childhood friend and the scrapes they’d gotten into, and those stories hardly gave you the measure of the man he was today.
"You'll have to forgive the short notice, Miss," Mr Castle said, turning to face you. "The ball was already planned before your brother told me he'd be staying for the season."
Clearly you'd missed something while you were trying to figure your host out.
"That's — that's quite alright, Sir," you said, trying to hide the fact that you had no idea what was going on. From the way Ethan was scowling, he'd figured you hadn’t been paying attention.
"You have a few hours to prepare — I know how you ladies love to take your time getting ready," Mr Castle continued. "A maid is drawing you a bath as we speak and I've taken the liberty of providing a mask for you."
You stared blankly. So blankly that Ethan had to rescue you.
"You were just saying how you longed to attend a ball," your brother said. "And you've always loved masquerades. Besides, it'll be the perfect way to make introductions."
"Oh, yes," you said, finally understanding what was going on. You looked at Mr Castle again and offered a genuine smile. "I hear they're all the rage in Italy."
"Have you ever been?" Castle asked.
"No, but I'd like to." You answered.
"Perhaps, one day, you'll have a husband who will take you," Ethan remarked.
You had to bite back a sharp response, not wanting to set a bad first impression of yourself in front of Mr Castle. Fortunately a maid appeared to show you to your room, where you could bathe and change for the night's ball. Mr Castle's eyes lingered on you as you walked away, and you heard Ethan's laugh echoing through the hallways as you were led upstairs.
Despite the strangeness of your new surroundings, you were more than eager to bathe after so many hours in the carriage. The maid, a young girl named Jane, offered to stay and help you, but all you wanted was to be alone.
You soaked until the water started to cool and the tips of your fingers started to prune, all while gazing out the window at the world beyond. The view of the back of the house was much like the front; immaculately kept gardens and statues, with small paths winding this way and that, one in particular leading to the opening in a large wall of hedges.
A hedge maze was the last thing you'd expected to find at Netherton but your heart beat a little fast at the prospect of losing yourself in there, of spending hours getting lost just to have time away from Ethan and his plans for you.
It held your attention even as you stepped out of the bath, wrapped yourself in a towel and started to dry yourself.
Some time later, Jane reappeared with a tray of food for you, relaying Mr Castle's apologies that there wouldn't be a formal dinner that night because of the ball. Again, you were more than fine with that, happy to eat the bread and cheese and broth, before reclining on the bed. (Your bed, you realised — at least, for the next few weeks.)
It felt like you'd only closed your eyes for a few seconds before a couple of maids appeared at your door to help you get ready, unpacking your dresses and helping you choose one to wear. Then, you were sat in front of the dresser while your hair was pulled and braided and twisted, in a style popular with women in the city. By the time they were done, you barely recognised yourself.
The last piece was a mask — a simple black thing with a ribbon that tied at the back of your head.
Ethan was waiting when you were finally led back downstairs. The noise of the ball filled the hallways and you took his arm as he led you towards the ballroom, falling into step behind other guests.
"Remember why we're here, sister. Speak when spoken to, be agreeable, and do try not to disappear into corners," he muttered.
"Anything else?"
"Yes, try not to embarrass me."
"I could say the same thing to you, brother," you muttered in reply.
He was about to say something but stopped himself when the pair of you reached the door and the butler announced you to the room. Any interest you had in continuing to rile your brother died the second you saw the opulent ballroom.
The chandelier glittered and cast a constellation of light across the room, the polished floor gleamed beneath the dancers as they moved to the music, and the gilded mirrors on every wall reflected the splendour of it all. Garlands and spring blooms were draped along the walls and tables, and the ceiling —
If it hadn't been for Ethan's arm looped through yours, you might have tripped as you stared up at the ceiling. Soft clouds and cherubs hung above you, looking down on the gathering as if they longed to join the party.
Ethan gripped your arm a little tighter, pulling you back to reality.
Strangers smiled, men inclining their heads in informal bows when their gazes met yours, each of them seeming to size you up.
It took a second more for you to realise what he was doing. He was parading you through the room like a pig at market. Indignation caused your cheeks to warm but you didn't dare say anything in so public a setting.
Your brother scanned the room with careful intent while you kept your eyes fixed forward, feeling more than a little conscious of yourself — of the hair style that wasn't quite your own and the dress that you were acutely aware accentuated the curve of your bosom.
"There you are," a hand landed on Ethan's shoulder and, despite the mask, Mr Castle was easily recognisable.
He gave you a bow and you immediately dipped into a curtsy.
"How are you finding Netherton Park, Miss? Are you rooms to your satisfaction?" Castle asked.
"Yes, Sir. You have a lovely home."
"I must apologise again for not being able to give you a proper tour until tomorrow," he offered.
"That's alright, Sir," you said with as much grace as you could muster before daring to add, "though, if possible, I should very much like to see the gardens and the hedge maze."
"Tomorrow you can see anything you'd like."
"Don't tell her that — once she sees the library, you'll never get her out of there," Ethan muttered.
"There's a library?" The question felt silly the moment it had left your lips. Of course there was a library, all great houses like Netherton had a library.
"The second largest in the county," Castle said.
As a unit of measurement, you weren't sure how big a library would have to be to be considered the second largest in the county, but it certainly sounded impressive. And the thought of him keeping such a library? It raised your opinion of him and his home further.
"Do you like to read, Sir?" You asked.
"No. Reading is a frivolous waste of time that could be better spent elsewhere."
The briefest flicker of hope at finding a kindred spirit was snuffed out before it even had a chance to fully ignite.
Your disappointment must have shown on your face because he quickly added; "but it is a good pursuit for women. It does them good to keep their minds sharp so they can understand complex matters that their husbands might wish to talk to them about. My mother loved to read."
You forced a nod even though his comment only wounded you further — how could anyone believe that women should keep their mind sharp just so they could be of better service to their husbands?
Ethan and Mr Castle fell into conversation while you were left to glance around the ball. More than once you found yourself looking towards the door, wondering if you'd be able to find your way back to your room if you slipped out early. As much as you loved balls and music, you felt out of place surrounded by people you didn't know and a house you'd never been in before.
The pair continued speaking and Mr Castle played the part of the gracious host by introducing you to a few people who wandered too close, but Ethan kept you at his side, making no suggestion that you could go dance or try to find your own entertainment.
When their conversation lulled, you dared to ask Mr Castle if he liked to dance. His answer was a resounding no that left you with the impression that he was quite a dour man, and you hoped you wouldn't be forced to endure his company for your whole stay.
You were stuck there for what felt like hours before Mr Castle was needed elsewhere. Then, surprisingly, your brother abandoned you. He told you not to wander off while he went to deal with something, then he was gone and you were alone.
All you wanted to do was shrink into a corner somewhere and wait for the awful night to be over but you knew you'd never hear the end of it. But the longer you stood around, the more self-conscious you started to feel — it was hardly a good first impression to give, standing there alone. So you decided to get some punch and wander around the ballroom.
More than once you looked at the people dancing, jealous that they were having a good time and silently wishing you had a partner just for a few turns.
Beyond all expectation, that wish was soon granted.
"May I have this dance, Miss?"
You turned to the source of the voice, half-convinced that he wasn't talking to you. After hours of being kept at your brother's (and by extension, Mr Castle's) side, you'd all but given up on anyone asking you to dance. But there he was, tall and impeccably dressed. A loose strand of dark hair spilled over the top of his mask, and his eyes — you'd never seen eyes so dark.
"Miss?" He prompted, and you felt your cheeks warm at the realisation that you'd been staring instead of answering.
"Yes, of course, Sir."
No sooner had the words left your lips, his hand grasped yours and he started to lead you into the throng of dancers just in time for the next dance to begin.
He sketched a bow and, in turn you offered a curtsy, fighting to keep your smile from tugging into an unladylike grin. Then you began to dance.
He moved with grace but something about him told you that he didn't often dance — his movements were too precise, too measured and calculated. You, on the other hand, had always been told you were a natural, your body flowed in time with the music, every fibre of your being lost to it.
"Forgive me for being forward," he said as he stepped towards you, then moved around you, "but your smile is captivating. The moment I saw you across the room, I knew I needed to introduce myself."
You hadn't even realised that you were smiling but, the second he mentioned it, it became impossible to stop. It was the sort of compliment that you hadn’t expected, the kind that caused butterflies to take flight in your stomach.
"Thank you, Sir," you said as you turned and he took your hand in his again.
His eyes remained fixed forwards as you both stepped in time with the line of dancers but you dared to try and steal a glance at him from the corner of your eyes. The tall, mysterious stranger hadn't even offered you his name yet but you didn't want to ruin the dance with formalities.
You turned and stepped towards him, and he mirrored your movements. Your palm pressed to his and warmth bloomed in your belly.
"Where have they been hiding you?" He asked. You shot him a questioning look before you turned and continued the dance. "I've never seen you at one of our balls before."
"We're wearing masks," you remarked, cheeks heating under his scrutiny, "how can you tell?"
"Oh, trust me, I'd know." He paused for a second as you completed another turn together, his palm pressed against yours, the pair of you moving in perfect time with the rest of the dancers. "Unless... is this your first time out in society?"
It was a harmless question, but still it caused the hairs on the back of your neck to rise. Was he asking because he had an interest in courting you? No, surely not... he didn't even know your name, and no man with his sanity intact would possibly consider courting a lady without at least knowing who her family were.
"You flatter me, Sir, but no." You didn't say any more. It wasn't that you were embarrassed that he might think you'd been overlooked by other men, but you knew how it would sound. Perhaps he'd assume that your prospects were poor or there was some issue with your family.
Or, maybe he'd realise what so many men in the past had; you just weren't very good with people, at being demure and how society expected you to be.
"But it is your first time at Netherton." Not a question, a certainty.
"It is. My brother and I are staying with Mr Castle for the season," you explained as you stepped and turned. "Do you know Mr Castle?"
"Oh, Castle and I are well acquainted," he remarked cryptically. "Have you had the chance to explore the grounds?"
"Not yet," you said as you stepped and turned again. "We only arrived this afternoon but Mr Castle says I may visit the hedge maze tomorrow."
"If you'd like, I could show you."
"You're familiar with the grounds?"
"I should hope so, I grew up here," he laughed.
It caught you off-guard — no one had mentioned Mr Castle's family to you, after all — enough so that your feet caught and you spilled forward. Your hands found his chest and his hands braced your elbows, and your whole body heated with embarrassment.
"Forgive me, Sir. I —" you said as you tried to right yourself.
"There's no need to apologise," he said, shrugging away your embarrassment, letting his hand linger on your arm a moment longer. "You wouldn't be the first pretty girl to swoon for me."
"No — I — that's not —" Was that really what he thought? That you were swooning? After not even a whole dance with him?
The song came to a close and the dancers started to clap, but the pair of you stood frozen, simply staring into each other's eyes. You couldn't look away, almost scared that the strange man would disappear in a blink, as if he'd never been there in the first place.
"Would you like to —" he started.
"There you are." Ethan's voice sounded behind you.
You turned to find your brother and Mr Castle, both eyeing your dance partner.
"Excuse me, Captain Russo but Mr Castle has claimed the next dance with my sister," Ethan said, and there was no missing the ice in his voice.
Clearly you were missing something, but all you could think about was the stranger.
Captain Russo.
Russo — not Castle. A cousin, maybe?
(And a Captain at that.)
"Of course," Captain Russo said with an easy tone. "I'm sure we'll have time to get better acquainted over the coming weeks."
Mr Castle visibly bristled at the words but said nothing, he simply nodded at the Captain and offered you his hand. It took you a moment to move and take it and, by the time you glanced back, the Captain was already retreating into the crowd.
Before you knew it, Mr Castle was stood opposite you, offering a bow, while your brother — actually, you weren't even sure where he had gone.
"I thought you didn't like to dance," you said as the music started and you took your first step.
"Just because I don't enjoy it doesn't mean I'm incapable," he said, moving with all the grace you would expect for a man of his lumbering stature. "Besides, it's only right that we should get to know each other and, while you're a guest in my home, it falls to me to keep you safe from undue influence."
You were silent for a beat, trying to understand his meaning before; "you mean the Captain?"
"My adopted brother is not without his faults and vices," he said flatly. "He's a vain and selfish man who would seek to take advantage of you if given the opportunity."
There was so much to unpack in that one little sentence.
Adopted brother? Vain and selfish?
"But why would he want to take advantage of me?" You asked.
It didn't make sense. For the most part, he'd been perfectly affable with you, pleasant even.
"To hurt me," Castle answered. You stared blankly from behind your mask, prompting him to explain; "to ensure that you're no longer a suitable prospect for me."
Prospect? Your heart started to race in your chest as you considered the words, your body somehow managing to continue to follow the steps of the dance.
"Forgive me, Sir," you said. "I'm not quite sure I understand your meaning."
"Your brother has asked me to consider taking you as my wife," he said as if it was the simplest of things, as if you were nothing more than an object to be given and bartered on a whim. "Ethan has told me about your prospects — or lack of them — and, considering my age and the fact that I have no heirs, his offer is not entirely unappealing."
You bit your lip, silently grateful that the dance called for you to turn away from him for a few seconds. It was all you could do not to cry when you thought about his words and the wound they had instantly caused inside you. Not entirely unappealing — was that all you were? All you were worth?
Years ago, you'd told yourself that you might not get to marry for love, but you would never settle for anything less than like. Mr Castle didn't even know you, hadn't even taken the time to, so how could he ever like you? And how could you ever like a man who didn't love to read and dance as you did? What sort of life would you have, trapped in this house with him for the rest of your days?
"Of course," he continued when you turned back, oblivious to your turmoil, "you are from a good family, and I know your brother's character —"
The words started to run together but, if he noticed you weren't really paying attention, he didn't let it show. And why would he? It seemed that the decision had already been made.
That was what hurt the most — Ethan had let you believe that you'd have a say, that you were here to meet people, not just one person. He'd allowed you to hope that your feelings mattered and that you wouldn't be given away too easily. It was hard to say who you were more angry at; Ethan, Mr Castle, or yourself for ever believing that this might turn out well.
Once he finished speaking, he seemed content to pass the rest of the dance in silence and, when the music stopped and you'd clapped and curtsied, you quickly excused yourself, muttering something about needing to relieve yourself.
You slipped through the crowd without a glance over your shoulder, and with no idea of where you were going until, finally, you found yourself outside. You pressed a hand to your roiling stomach as you stepped further from the door, onto the elevated porch that led down to the gardens.
"When I offered to show you around, I meant during the day..."
You spun around at the sound of the familiar voice, and found Captain Russo leaning against the balustrade, a glass in one hand, his mask in the other.
A/N : I know this one was more set up than anything, but now the 'world-building' and setting aspects are covered, it'll pick up from here and Billy will get a lot more screen time (page time?). Also, sorry to Frank fans in this one... he's Mr Darcy coded but with none of the redeeming features. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one!
I've tagged the people who asked to be tagged in Billy things and the people who asked to be tagged in this specifically, but let me know if you want adding. New chapters will hopefully be posted weekly (I'm being kinder to myself an not imposing such a strict deadline with this one).
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18
... I hope you're all ready for some era appropriate swooning.
I'm going to aim to have the first chapter up on the 3rd of April, but I'll try to get a sneak peek or something else before then. If you're part of my usual Billy tag list, I'll tag you. If you specifically want to be tagged in this one, let me know!
I realised that it's been over a year since we last did the poll and... where did 2025 go? (I realised that it's because (II)WII took about 8 months to get through but, wow, I really didn't think it had been that long). I also realise how long it's been since I said I was working on a couple of Bucky things and... I still am, I nearly have two first chapters, I just still don't know when they'll be ready to post.
What do you want to see next?
Supernatural/Werewolf Romance
Regency Era Romance
Cute and Angsty Jigsaw!Billy Romance
Voting ended onMar 23
And, since you all probably need a refresher of what each plot entails;
Supernatural Werewolf Romance Plot : You're a werewolf, Billy is a werewolf hunter. You were childhood sweethearts before he left you behind to join the Marines, and now he wants you dead because he hates the monster you've become.
Regency Era Romance Plot : Your older brother needs to find you a suitable match for marriage and settles on Mr Castle. You spend the season with Mr Castle, but when his adopted brother Captain Russo turns up, your whole world is turned upside down.
Cute and Angsty Jigsaw!Billy Romance Plot : You're trying to live a quiet life with your nephew, fixing up an old house in a small town until, one night, a scarred and scared Billy Russo breaks in with no memory of what happened to him, and your quiet life soon becomes anything but quiet.
Plot Summary : You were warned about Billy Russo but no one told you how one night with him would turn your entire world upside down...
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Just smut in this one. All chapters will contain mentions of babies/pregnancy. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 4.2k
A/N : this is the last part of this one, hope you like it!
Chapter List : Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four
Chapter Five
You smiled coyly over your soup, looking at him like this really was just some first date and you were seeing how things would play out. You asked him to check in with Shannon a couple of times, but other than that, you'd hardly spoken.
He smiled back as if he hadn't been inside you only twenty minutes before. He could still taste you on his lips, still smell your perfume clinging to his clothes — it all just made him want you more. Again. Over and over. Right there in the restaurant. Over the table if he could.
He'd always enjoyed sex, always been ready and willing to get his dick wet whenever the opportunity presented itself, but this wasn't that. You weren't just a fuck to him. Even during that first night together, you'd felt like more. A need instead of a want. A desperate clawing beneath his skin whenever he couldn't touch you.
And when he noticed other men were looking your way?
Billy had always been a selfish and jealous man, fiercely protective of anything he considered his. And you were his. Not just because you were the mother of his children, but because it was what he wanted. He had chosen to keep you, to possess you.
You bit your lip as he reached across the table and took your hand in his, a clear declaration to anyone looking your way that you were taken. His thumb brushed over your knuckles and the gesture was enough to finally spark conversation after a protracted silence.
"I don't usually do this," you said.
"Which part?" He asked. "The dinner or what just happened in the parking lot?"
You squirmed and, for a second, Billy dared to hope you were remembering how it had felt. He wanted to be under your skin and wanted you to replay every intimate encounter with him, just as he did with you. Truth be told, after your night together in the Hamptons, it had taken Billy weeks to get you out of his head, and almost a month before he could fuck anyone else without picturing your face and the way your mouth went slack as you came. So, now that he had you again, he was determined to never let you go.
"Both," you answered shyly.
"Why not?"
You shrugged and let out a slow breath. "I don't know... I'm usually too busy for dating. And, normally, I prefer to have sex in a bed."
"You told me you don't do one night stands," he said, not caring how it seemed that he'd remembered some throw away comment you'd made to him over ten months ago.
"That might have been a little white lie..." you said. Billy remained silent, waiting for you to explain. "We were warned about you and I didn't want to seem like a target..."
"Target?" It was hard not to be a little offended at that.
"No — no, not a target, but just..." you let out a huff, struggling to find the words. "I was worried that you'd just see me as something to use and throw away."
His eyebrow raised.
"Can we just... I don't know, start from the start?" You asked. "Do things properly? Y'know, get to know each other. Like you suggested..."
He let out a slow, measured breath, but didn't allow his expression to chance. It had been his suggestion but, now faced with actually doing it, he wasn't sure where to start. Some part of him had hoped he could just keep distracting you with sex until everything worked itself out.
"Okay," he said, "what do you want to know?"
"I... I don't know," you said, biting your lip in a way that had Billy wanting to drag you back out to the car. "Did you grow up in New York? Do you have family here?"
Of course that was where you wanted to start.
"I did grow up here, but I don't have any family."
"Did they leave, or —"
He decided to save you the embarrassment of continuing. "My mom safe haven'd me at a fire station in Albany a couple of hours after I was born. Never knew my old man."
Billy kept his eyes on you, a gentle smile on his face, hoping to reassure you that it wasn't important, that he didn't care. His thumb ran across your knuckles as a frown creased your brow.
"Hey, it's fine," he said a beat later. "As far as I'm concerned, she did me a favour."
"You never knew her?"
"I know enough about who she was to know life on the streets with a junkie was no life for a kid," he said.
Your frown only deepened. "So what happened to you?"
"Foster care," he shrugged, hating that your eyebrows stayed pinched together. "Don't feel bad — look at everything I've got now. I'd say everything turned out pretty well."
"I just..." you started and stopped, blowing out your cheeks.
"What?"
"When things got bad with my parents, I used to wish someone would take me away," you said, voice turning quiet. "It feels really selfish now..."
"It must've been bad to make you want to leave," he prompted gently.
"It wasn't always terrible, but after my dad got hurt on a job and couldn't work anymore, things got... difficult." You reached for your wine and took a long drink, like you were trying to wash a bad taste from your mouth.
But Billy wanted to know. He didn't want you to hide any part of yourself from him. "Difficult how?"
"Drinking, fighting with my mom... telling me he'd walk out if he didn't think my mom would go after him for child support," you said before taking another drink. "Not that she was any better. Any time he did try to leave, she'd beg him to stay 'cause she didn't want to raise a kid alone..."
He was silent for a moment, letting it all sink in. It was starting to become clear why you were reluctant about him and about the future he wanted for you. His thumb continued to brush across your knuckles as he chose his next words.
"That won't be us," he told her softly, but in a way that left no room for argument. "Whatever happens, we'll put the kids first." Your lips parted, but he didn't let you speak. "I don't have any intention of being like my parents, and I'm sure you don't want that either."
Your expression softened and you gave a nod. "No, I don't want that."
Billy smiled and gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze. He was about to say something when the waiter appeared to clear away your soup bowls and bring out your main courses. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from yours so he could focus on his steak.
"So," you said, trying to restart the conversation, "how did you get into private security?"
He hitched up his shoulder in an awkward shrug. "I kind of fell into it? I was a Marine and, after I got my discharge, I needed something to do. And I never had much in the way of fancy credentials."
You gave a nod, and he found himself thankful that you probably already knew about his time as a Marine thanks to whatever warning you'd been given all those months ago. Your friend had married one of the guys from his unit, after all — and no one knew the sordid details of Billy's life like his Marine brothers.
... well, most of the sordid details.
"You built a whole company on your own?"
"I have a couple of silent partners but, yeah, mostly."
There was a flicker of something on your face, the sort of admiration that caused his stomach to twist and roil, but he pushed thoughts of his business partners and his lies of omission from his mind. If he was good at one thing, it was compartmentalisation. You didn't need to worry about Rawlings or how Billy had gotten the money to start Anvil.
You didn't need to worry about anything anymore.
"But you know how it is, right?" Billy said with a fond smile. "You run your own business."
"Yeah but not like that..."
Your attention returned to your food and, for a few minutes, he was content to let the silence linger. It wasn't uncomfortable, you were just enjoying your food. And, honestly? Billy was glad to see you eating properly. Something told him that it had been a long time since you'd last been able to sit down and have a nice meal.
That was going to change. He was going to see to it that this became your new normal.
"So, why photography?" He finally asked once your plate neared empty.
"My upstairs neighbour passed away when I was seven — he was always nice to me and the other kids in the building — when his son came to clear out his apartment, he let some of the kids rummage through his stuff," you explained with a shrug. "I found an old Minolta 35mm film camera that was at least fifteen years older than me. I'd save my allowance and do odd jobs just to afford film for it.
"When I got to high school, I worked on the school paper and the year book just so I could use the dark room," you flashed a fond smile for a second, but it quickly lost all warmth. "Though I guess some of it was so I had an excuse not to go home."
Billy gave a hum of acknowledgement as he stared across the table at you, trying to picture it, trying to imagine what you'd been like.
"What?" You asked when you noticed his smile.
"I just never thought you'd be the... nerdy type in school," he joked.
"And I suppose you were a jock?" You answered back, desperately fighting back a smirk. "I bet all the girls wanted a piece of you."
His chest puffed out and he sat a little straighter. "I can't help it if I've always been gifted with a face like this."
You rolled your eyes. "What was it, then? Football?"
Your eyes roved over him like you were trying to figure it out, trying to decide what sport and position best suited his build.
"Baseball," he said, deciding to put you out of your misery. "Only played freshman year though."
It was an effort to keep his tone neutral but it was pointless. Just one look at him told you that there was more to the story.
"How come?" You asked.
"I, uh... I hurt my shoulder when I was a kid. Tore my rotator cuff," Billy said, shrugging stiffly as if mentioning the old injury was enough to cause a dull ache. "Made it hard to play."
His eyes dropped to his plate and the few remaining vegetables. He wasn't really interested in eating them, he just didn't want to see the look on your face. Even though you'd been honest with him about your childhood, Billy didn't want to tell you about his, about Arthur, just yet.
"Why did you join the Marines?" You asked after a long minute of silence.
Billy gave another awkward shrug and smiled as he looked at you. "There wasn't really anything else I could do."
Both your plates were empty, so Billy took the opportunity to reach across the table and take your hand in his again.
"See, this isn't so bad, is it?" He asked.
"It's less awkward than I thought it was going to be," you admitted and shot him a coy smile. "Though, I guess it helps when we don't have to worry about the sex..."
"Why would we worry about the sex?" He said, smile widening to a smirk.
"Don't you ever get nervous?" You asked. Billy stared at you blankly. "Really? Never?"
"I've never had any complaints. And, from what I've experienced with you, I doubt you have either."
"I don't mean —" you huffed a laugh and shook your head. "I just mean the first time is always a little awkward."
"Our first time was a threesome in a hotel room, and 'awkward' is not the word I'd use to describe it. In fact —"
He stopped the second he noticed you tense, but it took him a moment more to realise why. The waiter appeared at your table to clear away the plates and leave you with dessert menus. You made a point of staring intently at the page.
"So you weren't even a little bit nervous?" You asked quietly. "When you showed up at my door with Meg — you weren't worried that I'd say no?"
There was a shyness to the question that he didn't quite expect, and he wasn't sure what you expected to hear, so Billy took a beat before responding.
"Not worried, no, but I hoped you wouldn't turn us away. I wanted you — I wanted to fuck you — but after that moment in the supply closet..."
"What?" You asked, daring to look up again.
"I meant what I told you; you deserve to be worshipped, and that's all I've wanted to do ever since," he said with a slow exhale. "I know you think it's a line, given my... reputation, but I'm willing to prove to you that I mean it. Whatever it takes."
"And if I said no more sex until I'm sure?"
It was a monumental effort to hold in his immediate reaction.
"Then I'd get very used to using my hand," he answered.
"Just like that?"
"Is it so hard to believe that I can survive without sex for a few weeks?" Again, he wasn't sure whether or not he was offended. Regardless of what you'd been told about him, he wasn't some out of control sex-pest and, as much as he was still thinking about fucking you again, if you asked him to wait he would. When you didn't answer, he asked; "is that what you want? No more sex?"
You didn't miss the seriousness of his tone.
"I... I don't know. I'm not sure what I want."
He let a few seconds pass in silence before giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "Stop it. Stop overthinking and looking for problems that haven't happened yet. If you don't want to fuck, that's fine, but it's not going to keep me away from you — or the kids."
You nodded and dropped your eyes again. "I want the cheese cake."
He was content to let it go. Both of you ordered the cheese cake and finished your wine and, by the time the bill was paid, the awkwardness had dissipated.
You let him take your hand and lead you outside, leaning into his side, bracing yourself against the cold. The pace slowed as you neared the car and, before he could reach to open the passenger side door for you, you turned towards him. Your hand slipped beneath his coat and snaked around his waist, and you stared up at him.
He cupped your cheek with his free hand as you lifted your face and ghosted your lips against his.
"Thank you."
"What for?" He asked.
"For listening. For... not getting frustrated with me..." he gave you a questioning look, so you clarified; "I know this isn't easy for you and me not knowing what I want probably isn't helping."
You kissed him sweetly, and it was so at odds with everything he wanted to do to you in that moment, that Billy almost faltered.
"You don't have to thank me for that," he muttered against your lips, not letting you slip away from him. "I meant what I said; I'm prepared to wait as long as I have to."
He would have kept you in that embrace all night if he could, but the chill wind had you shivering in his arms and there were snowflakes in their air again. So, he played the part of the perfect gentleman and helped you into the car before driving you back to his building. The whole time he was acutely aware of every little movement, catching every little glance you shot him from the corner of his eye.
If he was a wagering man, he'd put money on you replaying what had happened in the car earlier that night. He was thinking about it too. Or still, really. It was a difficult picture to get out of his head. That was the thing when it came to you, not to mention part of the reason he was fighting so hard to keep you; no matter how many times he had you, the feeling of wanting never went away.
When you reached the penthouse, you let out a soft sigh of relief — you'd dealt with being away from the twins for a couple of hours better than he'd expected, but he'd seen the worry on your face whenever his phone buzzed.
Shannon was pacing back and forth, softly bouncing Chloe in her arms, but you were quick to reclaim your little girl.
"How were they?" You asked, pressing a soft kiss to Chloe's forehead.
"Connor fussed for a little while after you left, then he was out like a light," Shannon said. "Chloe was sleeping until she needed changing."
The conversation continued but Billy mostly drowned it out, too caught up in you, watching as you cradled his little girl and thanked Shannon. As Billy showed Shannon to the door, you went to check on Connor in the bedroom.
"I never thought I'd see the day that you were ready to settle down," she remarked, pulling on her coat.
"Me neither."
"Kids are a lot of work, you better be sure this is what you really want."
"I am," Billy said as he pressed the call button for the elevator. "Thank you for doing this."
She shrugged it off, telling him that it had been no bother and that the twins were little angels. And, unexpectedly, Billy felt something like pride fill his chest — his kids were little angels.
Shannon said her goodbyes and Billy lingered by the elevator for a few moments after the doors had slid shut behind her. Was this what fatherhood was like? Was tonight how the rest of his life was going to be? If so, he had no complaints.
You were sitting on the edge of the bed when Billy went to find you, Chloe clutched to your breast, feeding.
"Sorry, I can —" Billy started to apologise the second he noticed your embarrassment, " — I can come back when you're done."
You thought about it but quickly shook your head. "It's fine. Can you check on Connor?"
His heart gave an uncharacteristic squeeze at your request, at the idea you were letting him in and trusting him. In no time at all, he had the little boy in his arms and had taken a seat on the bed beside you.
"Thank you for tonight. You were right; I needed a few hours away from them," you said before letting out a soft laugh. "I spend so much time dealing with them fussing and crying that it's easy to forget how sweet they are when they're like this."
"They're both perfect." He barely realised that the words had come from him, and he was too busy staring down at little Connor to really think about it.
You sighed and rested your head on his shoulder, and the pair of you were content to stay like that until the twins finally fell asleep again. You sneaked out of the room behind Billy and followed him into the kitchen, where he put on a mug of coffee.
What followed was a quiet evening in front of the TV — he wasn't sure which of you had suggested it, but once you were pressed against his side, half asleep, he didn't even think about moving. You watched whatever crap was on, and you gave funny commentary about a cooking show, criticising the obvious (and sometimes outright disgusting) errors. On more than one occasion Billy dared to press his lips to the top of your head.
The babies fussed a little more, but nothing a change or a quick cuddle didn't settle.
"It's getting late," he said reluctantly. It wasn't quite midnight, but he wanted you to get some sleep.
"Right, I should..." you trailed off.
"I'll leave my door open." He flashed you a playful grin, letting you make of the invitation what you will. "Even if you just want someone to sleep next to."
You said your goodnights and allowed him to see the twins again before he headed to his own room.
Billy showered and climbed into bed, but he didn't sleep. Instead he listened intently to any noise out in the penthouse, any sound that might indicate that you were out there. He thumbed through an old copy of Dorian Gray, half-distracting himself with reading while he slowly gave up on the idea that you'd make an appearance.
He'd almost given up hope but, around 1am, the door opened and you slipped into his room. Billy immediately lifted the covers and made space for you beside him and you wasted no time in slipping into his bed. But, instead of settling beside him, you straddled him, climbing atop his naked body. Your nightgown rode up your thighs as you did and Billy had to fight to stay in control of himself.
"Not that I'm complaining, but what inspired this?" He asked, shuddering as you ran your hand over a ticklish spot on his chest.
"I want you to make me a promise," you said.
"Anything."
"Promise me that, if we do this, it'll be like this — you, me, and the kids. Together."
He stared up at you through the gloom, letting his hands slowly slide up your thighs. "That's all I want. I promise we can have this."
"You won't abandon us if things get too hard?"
"Never," he answered, lifting himself so he could claim your lips.
The kiss took you by surprise, but you let him drag you down, let him pull your body closer as if he never wanted to let you go. Billy was content to just kiss you and hold you — if that was all you wanted from him, then he was happy to oblige — but it wasn't long before you started to rock your hips. You moaned softly against his lips, and it took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to roll you over.
As he had in the car, he let you set the pace and control the situation (though he did help things along a little by continuing to push your slip upwards until you got the hint and pulled it off).
His hands trailed up and down your body, over every inch of exposed flesh he could find. You arched and moaned as his fingers grazed your nipples and shuddered as they ran over your stomach.
And, of course, he'd been hard since the moment you'd settled on top of him. As you ground against him, he felt you growing warm and wet for him, your body as desperate for him as he was for you.
When you finally gripped his cock and guided yourself down it, he didn't know whether to groan or let out a sigh of relief. He stared up at you, his hands still roving, still worshipping you, as you started to move. His hips flexed beneath you and you moaned all the louder for it.
Already this was becoming like a dance; you both knew the steps and the way the other moved, and you fell into an easy rhythm. He pulled you down for another kiss and found himself muttering against your lips; "mine. You're mine."
You breathed a yes, and Billy felt like something inside of him had fractured, the wall that he'd kept built around himself crumbling at that one little word.
He didn't know what this was, whether the feelings inside of him were love, but he wanted to find out — he wanted to find out what a life with you would be like.
Your hips started to stutter and you moaned his name as you started to come, and Billy took the opportunity to finally roll you onto your back. His arms hooked behind your legs, almost bending you in half beneath him as he drew out your pleasure, swallowing down your cries with his lips.
It wasn't long before you fell apart again and Billy quickly joined after, the pair of you left trembling and boneless, still desperately clinging to each other. He remained inside you long after it was over, tenderly brushing his finger over your cheek and getting lost in your gaze.
He would have stayed like that all night if he could, completely yours, but a cry echoed through the penthouse. Despite the interruption, he smiled and barely held back a laugh.
You let out a long sigh and offered up a smile of your own. "I better go see what they need."
Billy shook his head as he finally pulled away from you. "We can go see what they need.
"You don't have to do that."
"I don't have to, but I want to," he said, climbing out of bed and offering you his hand. "We're in this together now."
A/N : I wanted to give this one an open ending so I can come back to it if I want to, but a sweet enough ending that you can probably imagine making it work. Like I said at the start, this was only meant to be a silly little thing because I had a random idea.
Tomorrow I'm going to put up a poll for my next full-length fic, but it'll probably be a week or two before I start posting just to give me time to get plots/scenes planned out a little better than I did for this one. The choices will be a werewolf fic, a regency era fic, or another jigsaw Billy fic. Anyway, thanks so much for bearing with me through this one, it's been an insane couple of months for me.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will hopefully be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.
Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18
Plot Summary : You were warned about Billy Russo but no one told you how one night with him would turn your entire world upside down...
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Just smut in this one. All chapters will contain mentions of babies/pregnancy. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 4.9k
A/N : It's been a long February... Thanks so much for being patient with me!
Chapter List : Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three
Chapter Four
You woke up comfortable and rested, your whole body felt more relaxed than it had in months, and all you wanted to do was enjoy the moment. Your eyes barely opened before closing again, and you snuggled deeper under the thick quilt to avoid the chill in the air.
For a few seconds you almost forgot where you were and what had happened last night. But as you burrowed beneath the blankets, you found yourself enveloped in a scent that was all Billy, and when you moved you felt a not entirely unpleasant ache between your thighs.
Fuck.
You stilled, not wanting to disturb him while you thought everything over — you'd gone to him, climbed into bed with him, even though you'd all but rejected his offer of a relationship. And it was amazing. The way he'd touched you — worshipped you — had left you aching for more. So much so that you were tempted to roll over and wake him for one more round before finally dealing with the reality of the situation.
No, maybe it would just be better if you crept out before he woke up. Things had escalated quickly between you. Too quickly. You still needed time to think, time to decide what was best for the twins.
You couldn't just make decisions based on your wants alone anymore.
But sneaking away wasn't an option either. Things couldn't be weird between you and Billy, not if he wanted to be in the twins' lives.
You dared a glance towards the window and realised that light was already filtering in beneath the dark curtains, meaning it was morning and you were on borrowed time before the babies needed their morning feed.
Taking a slow breath, you forced yourself to roll over to face him.
Only, his side of the bed was already empty. You ran a hand across the sheet, found it cold, and realised that he must have gotten up some time ago.
Sitting up, you wondered where he was, but that stopped mattering the second you heard a baby babbling.
You almost tripped as you got out of bed, suddenly stopping when you realised you were only wearing his shirt. The panties you'd been wearing beneath were nowhere to be seen, but there wasn't time for anything more than a cursory look around as you buttoned up the shirt and covered yourself as best you could.
You froze again, one step out of the bedroom.
Billy was standing in front of the windows, where he had kissed you the night before, wearing nothing but a pair of sweat pants and cradling one of twins. From the reflection in the glass, you could see a bottle against the baby's lips — Billy must have found the emergency formula that you kept in the stroller bag.
Both of the baskets the twins had slept in had been moved out of the spare room and —
Something in your chest gave an awkward squeeze at the sight. You'd had your doubts but, there he was, being a father to your children. To his children.
"Your mom tells me that you're a fussy boy," Billy muttered softly. Connor — he had Connor settled in his arms and feeding again. "It's okay, I'm here now. I'm gonna help you and mommy, and..."
His voice turned so soft, you didn't hear the rest as Billy bowed to press a kiss to his son's head.
It felt like you were intruding, spying on a deeply personal moment — which was ironic given how Billy had spent the week following you. But there was something else, an unexpected feeling beneath your ribs that you never would have expected in a million years. A warm fondness radiated through your chest and, when Billy finally turned and noticed you, that warmth became a fire that settled in your core.
For a second all you could do was stare at him, at the way he was holding your son, cradling him in his arms against his bare chest, and —
If you hadn't given birth only two months ago, the sight alone might have made you feel broody. Then he smiled and, honestly, if he'd tried to take you back to bed, you would have struggled to find a reason to say no.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," you answered, unable to find the words to explain any of your thoughts.
"I've got them if you need a few more hours," he offered.
There was no denying how good the offer sounded — how long had it been since you'd last been able to spend a lazy morning in bed? Too long. And that had nothing to do with the twins.
You shook your head, knowing you couldn't abuse his hospitality, and cleared the distance between you. Connor was content in his father's arms, still feeding, and Chloe was wiggling in her basket. She looked happy, though the awkward bulging beneath her onesie raised your eyebrow.
"Has Chloe been —"
"Fed and changed," Billy answered. "They both have."
You waited a beat, looking from the baby to Billy, then back again. "Have you ever changed a baby before?"
Sure enough, when you looked at Connor, you noticed the same awkward bulge.
"Well... no... but we didn't want to wake you..." Billy answers, a hint of pinkness tinting his cheeks.
You weren't upset — how could you be when he was throwing himself into the role of a father to the twins?
"It's okay," you told him, scooping Chloe up. "It's a learning curve."
Billy nodded and turned his attention back to Connor, smiling fondly at his son while you sat with Chloe and let your gaze drift to the windows. The snow had stopped falling, but the world outside was blanketed with white.
"Do you want breakfast? I could cook — I think I've got some bacon, or we could have pancakes?" He asked. "And we could talk about last night?"
You knew exactly what he meant, but still asked; "talk about what?"
He shot you a look and bit back a sigh. "What happened in my bed. We fucked..."
You pressed a hand over Chloe’s ear, cheeks heating with a strange sort of embarrassment.
Billy rolled his eyes. "Or are we not going to talk about that?"
"No, we can," you said, keeping your eyes on Chloe, "I just..."
You fell silent, not sure you even knew what to say about last night or anything really. So much had happened in so little time.
"What?" He prompted gently after the silence had dragged on for a few seconds.
"I don't know, okay? It's just a lot and everything has been happening so fast..."
"Go to dinner with me tonight."
You stared at him. "I can't just drag the kids to a restaurant, Billy. They're only two months old. They have a schedule, a routine that they —"
"No kids, just me and you."
You continued to stare while Chloe squirmed. "I don't have time to find a sitter. I can't just drop everything because you want to —"
"I'll find a sitter."
"It doesn't work like that," you told him, trying to hold back your frustration for the twins' sakes. "You can't just find the first random sitter, I need someone who I trust with them — someone with references."
"I'll find someone," he countered. "I have plenty of trained and vetted people working for me."
"You can't just —"
"I can. If you'll let me," he said, managing to keep his tone light, despite the fact that this was close to becoming an argument. You let out a sigh, feeling like you were fighting a losing battle. "You need a few hours to yourself. You're going to be no good to the kids if you don't start taking care of yourself."
He moved before you could even think of a response, gently lowering Connor back into his basket and coming to kneel in front of you. He placed a gentle hand on your bare knee and looked up at you.
"Let me do this," he continued, "let me take you to dinner. You'll only be gone a couple of hours, and the twins will only be a phone call away."
There was something so soft about him in that moment, something that had you wondering if you'd ever be able to deny him anything. And you knew he was right, in fact, you'd been silently wishing for just an hour to yourself for the past two months.
"They'll be fine. I promise I'll find the best person to watch them." Then, he fell silent. "Everyone who works for me goes through extensive background checks. There's nothing to worry about."
The look on his face told you that he wasn't going to take no for an answer, and the hand on your knee gave a reassuring squeeze. He seemed so certain in that moment, so completely sure of himself that you couldn't bring yourself to doubt him.
"Only for a couple of hours," you finally agreed.
"You can time it if you want," he said, fighting back a smile. His hand lingered on your knee and a beat later he asked; "so, breakfast?"
You ate together but didn't get to discuss the events of the previous night. Every time it looked like the conversation was going to veer in that direction, something interrupted you. First the kids took it in turns, needing to be changed again — which, honestly, given the way Billy had put on their diapers, you were a little relieved to get them changed — then Billy's phone started pinging as he arranged a sitter.
Shannon, his secretary, had agreed to babysit, and while you were busy imagining some leggy blonde, Billy rattled off all of her qualifications; CPR training, clean background check, and extensive experience with children of all ages.
After eating, you finally talked Billy into letting you go home. He insisted on driving and you didn't want to argue with him. Even though the snow had stopped, the streets were white and icy, and the sky was still an ominous shade of grey. At your building, he helped you upstairs and, before you could even think about it, he kissed you goodbye. A soft lingering kiss, that left your lips tingling long after he'd pulled away and seen himself out.
Five hours later, you found yourself staring at the door.
"Why am I doing this?" You muttered to the twins, answering your own question with a single glance.
They were why you had agreed to dinner with Billy. You wanted your children to have their father in their life, and you — well, your feelings on him were a little more complicated.
After being dropped off at home and getting the twins bathed and into fresh clothes, you'd put them down and thrown yourself into a hot shower. The water cascading down your skin reminded you of Billy, of all the way he'd touched you and how his lips had felt as they slowly slipped down your body.
The memories were enough to have you slowly running a hand down your body, tracing the path his mouth had taken before slipping between your legs. He had spent a week following you — stalking you — but it was his face you picture when you closed your eyes. You thought about him on top of you, inside you. You thought about the sounds he made as he fucked you, and the way his jaw went slack as he came.
No one had ever made you feel the way he did. No one had learned your body so quickly.
His name slipped from your lips as you came undone, but your orgasm did little to lessen the tension inside of you.
It was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous — how had you let this man, who you hardly knew, get such a hold over you?
He was exactly what you'd been warned about all those months ago.
It wasn't that you felt like you couldn't say no to him. It was worse than that. You didn't want to say no to him. You wanted the hot, passionate sex, and the sweet mornings watching him take care of the twins. What worried you was the thought that the bubble might burst.
As much as you loved the twins, they were hard work. And, you weren't always the easiest to deal with either.
You were scared that if you let him into your life and allowed yourself to really feel something for him, that he'd realise that he'd made a massive mistake.
The rest of your day passed like a montage from some rom-com, with you juggling looking after the kids, cleaning your apartment, and trying to find something suitable to wear.
Though, finding something suitable was, unfortunately, easy. The only thing you had that still fit in a way that you were comfortable with, was a deep blue dress that you'd bought for a beach wedding in Mexico. The fabric had enough give and a cut that didn't cling too much, but the neckline exposed more of your cleavage than you were comfortable with. So, the real challenge was finding something to wear over the dress.
In the hours that you had to get ready, you talked yourself out of going to dinner with him dozens of times only to falter when you picked up the phone to tell him as much. It wasn't that you didn't want to go to dinner, and it wasn't that you didn't want him in the kids' lives, it was just...
A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts and forced you to push aside your doubts. He was there and it was too late to back out.
Opening the door, you realised he was completely alone.
Okay, you realised he was completely alone after you'd taken in the sight of him. He looked like he'd been poured into his dark suit, every inch of him perfect in a way that had you wondering if this was all just a dream.
"You look nice," he said, his eyes drinking in the sight of your blue dress.
It took a second for you to find your voice.
"Did — did you not find a babysitter?" There was a spark of hope in your question. Maybe he was there to cancel.
"She's meeting us at my place," he said with all of his usual cool confidence.
You stepped aside as he stepped past you and into your apartment, making a beeline for the bassinet and the babies.
"At your place? I don't —"
"I'm taking you to a restaurant in Manhattan and traffic is still a nightmare," he explained, not even looking at you as he greeted the twins. "I figured it'd be safer to keep the kids close by in case it starts snowing again."
You couldn't fault his logic, but the fact that he hadn't told you until that moment had an irritated sigh forcing its way from your lips.
"I don't have anything ready for them," you said, tone clipped.
"That's okay, we've got time, you can pack them a bag," he said, eyes still on the twins, waggling his fingers over the bassinet
"It would have been nice of you to let me know."
"Is it really such a big deal?" He finally looked at you and, when he noticed the expression on your face, he almost winced. "I just thought that since you stayed last night —"
"What? That I'd want to spend the night in your bed again?"
Was that it? Was this all just about sex for him? The thought made you feel sick.
"No, that's not —" he took a step towards you and then stopped. "Is that what you think — that I'm just doing this because I want to fuck you again?"
"I don't know what I think. I haven't had time to think." Your voice softened a fraction, but there was no hiding the lingering annoyance.
Billy took a slow breath, carefully measuring his next words.
"I know that all of this probably seems a little... fast, and I know it's a lot to wrap your head around. I'm just not the sort of guy who holds back when I want something."
"And what is it that you actually want, Billy?"
"I've told you; I want this. I want you and the kids."
"And it's just that easy for you?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
You didn't have an answer. All you had was a laundry list of worries and doubts, and you were starting to think that they were more to do with you than anything Billy had ever done.
"I get it," he continued after a few uncomfortable moments of silence, his voice softening. "If we'd done any of this the normal way, then I don't know how I'd feel. I never thought I wanted to be a father or try for a committed relationship, but how can I not care about kids that are already here? Kids that didn't ask to be born. And you..."
It was his turn to fall silent. His unfinished comment hung in the air between you long enough for your heart to start beating a little faster, stomach knotting as you awaited the awful, inevitable pain of being told he felt trapped. That was it, wasn't it? He felt like you'd trapped him with the kids, and he was only doing this because he felt like it was the right thing to do.
"And me?" You asked softly.
Billy shook his head and finished closing the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch soft and warm in a way that made you want to melt against him.
"I don't know," he confessed. "All I know is that I haven't been able to get you out of my head since the moment we met. There's just... something about you. I've never... I've never had someone get under my skin like you."
"Why?" It slipped out as little more than a whisper, and the tender look Billy gave you had the knots tightening in your stomach.
"You make me laugh and you don't just let me do what I want," he said, shrugging. "And you're clearly not interested in me for my money."
"Of course I'm not."
"Most women are. And, I guess I was fine with that but now..."
"Now?"
His thumb stroked your cheek, and you got lost in his dark eyes.
"Now I want someone who actually sees me. Someone who wants me..."
"What if I can't?" You asked.
"All I'm asking is that you try."
And, again, you found that you couldn't say no to him. Instead, you leaned into his touch and let out a soft sigh. "Okay."
That was how you ended up in Billy's car, an overnight bag packed for you and the twins, who were dozing in two brand new car seats. And the car seats weren't the only new thing Billy had purchased for the twins.
At his apartment, you found two cribs waiting in the spare room, as well as a changing mat in the bathroom, and a small pile of soft toys. In the hours you'd been apart, he'd made his penthouse as baby-friendly as he could, and you were... speechless. Confused. Shocked.
Even more so when Shannon appeared and all of your assumptions about Billy's secretary were blown clean out of the water. She was a little older than Billy, and wasted no time explaining to you that she had two kids of her own who had been nothing short of nightmares when they were younger
You explained the twins' schedule, made sure she knew where everything was in their bag, and triple checked that she had your number, but it still took ten minutes for Billy to usher you towards the door.
The second the elevator door closed, your heart started to race and you watched the illuminated numbers as they signalled the growing distance between you and your babies. You'd known that you'd have to leave them eventually but not yet, not like this. Your lips parted and the first syllable of an apology was on the tip of your tongue when his hand found yours.
He gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me."
And, for reasons that were entirely beyond you, you did.
You were quiet all the way to the restaurant, only giving little hums and nods whenever Billy spoke. He didn't push or prod, he just let you get lost in your thoughts until he pulled into an almost empty parking lot and killed the engine.
"Talk to me," he said softly. "What's wrong?"
As much as you wanted to tell him that you were just worried about the twins it wouldn't have been the truth and, if you were really going to try for something with him, you wanted to be honest.
"This... you... it's a lot..." you said, keeping your eyes fixed forward.
"Why?" He wasn't angry, wasn't upset. He genuinely wanted to understand.
"Because I don't think I can handle letting you into my life — our lives — if you're not sure that you really want this."
"I do want this."
"You keep saying that but you don't even know what this is. You've spent one night with the twins, and barely a day longer with me..." you said. "What if... what if we're not really what you want?"
"What if you are?" He asked. "What if this moment is the only thing that's standing between us and an amazing life together?"
You stayed silent, but dared to look his way.
"I didn't know what I wanted, but then I got to hold Connor in my arms," Billy continued, letting out a soft sigh. "Connor and Chloe, they're... mine. I know what it's like to have a parent walk out, and I'd never do that to them."
"What if I'm not what you want? What if I make you miserable and we make the twins miserable?" You asked and Billy shot you a disbelieving look. "My parents spent my whole childhood tearing each other apart, and they blamed me. I don't want to put our kids through that."
He reached for you and cupped your cheek with his warm palm. "You could never make me miserable."
"How do you —"
His lips met yours, silencing your question. When he kissed you like that, you didn't have the strength to continue questioning him.
"Just... come to dinner with me," he murmured against your lips. "I promise we'll figure everything out."
You didn't answer, instead you reignited the kiss, wanting to lose yourself in the gentle reassurance that he was offering you.
Each taste of him left you craving more and more, and despite your reservations, you knew that you couldn't keep denying him. As much as you might have wanted to shield your heart and protect the twins, your every instinct fell silent when his tongue pressed at the seam of your lips, begging for entrance.
The hand on your cheek slipped to the back of your neck, his fingers lightly tangling in your hair, while your own hands had found purchase on his jacket. You pulled at him and he pulled at you, but it wasn't enough. Closer. You needed to get closer. You needed more.
You moved in unison — you awkwardly lifted from your seat and he guided you towards him with a hand on your hip. There was no hesitation, no awkward pause to think about where you were. The second you were seated on his lap you felt the dull pressure of his cock straining beneath his pants. It made you kiss him harder, more desperately as you remembered the last time you'd been on top of him. This time there was no Meg, no sharing him. This time he was all yours.
Billy groaned into the kiss, his cock twitching as you shifted your hips, grinding yourself against him. It was insane but you couldn't stop yourself, couldn't help but want more. Everything just made sense when you were together like this, when his lips and hands were on you. At some point your fingers slipped into his hair, but Billy didn't mind your tight grip. In fact, he seemed to want it.
He was the first to break, the first to start tugging at the clothes separating you. His belt came undone, then the button and zipper of his pants, all while you lost yourself to the kiss. You barely noticed until his hand slid beneath your dress to pull your panties to the side. Billy didn't stop until his cock was pressed against you, tip poised at your entrance, creating a wonderful pressure.
"Tell me you want this," he muttered against your lips. "Tell me you want me."
It was about more than the moment, about more than some quick fuck in a parking lot. You barely knew him but, fuck, you did want him. You wanted to see where all of it would go, wanted to give him the chance to be a good partner and father.
"I want this," you answer, already a little breathless. "I want you, Billy — fuck, I want you."
As he lifted his hips, you sank down, both of you moaning as he slid inside you with ease. You hadn't realised just how wet he'd gotten you until that moment, but the thought vanished the second you started to move.
He let you set the pace, let you ride him, rolling your hips and arching your back, making sure to take every inch of him.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he groaned, pulling you back into another kiss.
Perfect. He was the only one to ever call you that, and every time he said it, it felt like someone had let off a firework in your chest. It was all you'd ever wanted; for someone to think that you were enough, that you deserved. You moved faster, rising and falling on his lap with an increased urgency, wanting to hear him gasp and groan just for you. And Billy did just that, meeting each movement with one of his own, but still letting you set the pace.
You'd never expected insanity to feel so good.
"Perfect," he breathed against your lips, like he somehow knew what that word from him did to you. "Fucking perfect."
His chest shuddered against yours, an arm pulling you close and holding you tight. Nothing existed beyond the two of you in that moment, and the only thing that mattered was his touch, his lips and tongue, his cock buried inside you. You didn't have to think or worry, all you had to do was feel.
You pulled at his hair, tearing his lips from you so you could look at him and — you weren't prepared for how his dark eyes looked right through you, right down to your soul. He didn't blink, didn't look away. He looked at you like you were his whole world.
A gasped moan spilled from you the second you felt his thumb against your clit. Your movements faltered and your whole body tensed, almost falling apart for him right then and there. Billy grinned at you, instantly knowing you were already on the precipice. A shudder tore down your spine and, even though you were still setting the pace, you understood that he was in control.
His thumb moved slowly, barely the ghost of a touch against your clit, but it was still enough to push you higher.
"Billy..." you whined, not sure if you were begging him to stop or pleading for more.
He kept grinning, kept ghosting his thumb over your sensitive flesh as you rode him.
"Please..." you finally decided what you wanted. "More... please don't tease me..."
"Fuck, I love hearing you ask for what you want," groaned Billy.
There was no playful hesitation, no sign that he might deny you just to make you beg. His touch became more pronounced and you felt your clit throb in response. It didn't take long, there was no holding back your climax once it started to build.
You came with his name on your lips, back arching , and —
The horn blared as you pressed against the steering wheel, and you jolted forward, pressing yourself back against him. There was no telling if it was the sudden movement, or the way you were still writhing on his lap, but Billy gave a grunt and you felt him twitch inside you. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck as he came, alternating between swearing and groaning your name.
Reality and embarrassment started to creep in the second it was over and you remembered just where you were. You lowered your head to his shoulder and held on tight, wanting to hide from the world.
Fortunately the parking lot was still deserted and dark, and no one had the slightest idea what you and Billy had just done.
"Mhmm, first a storage closet, now my car," Billy muttered against your neck. "I'm starting to think you like the thought of getting caught."
A weak laugh escaped you. "We were caught the first time, remember?"
"And look how well that all turned out..." He didn't see you roll your eyes. "So... will you come for dinner with me?"
A/N : So, I've finally sorted out the keyboard problem... at least, I can now use my bluetooth keyboard again, so hopefully the next part shouldn't take three weeks. I think next week might be the last part of this one, since I only meant for it to be a little fun thing. But, thanks so much for your patience with this!
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will hopefully be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.
Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18
Sorry to anyone who's been waiting for part 4 of Just One Night, I've been having a few laptop issues... more keys are falling off the keyboard and the bluetooth driver decided to suddenly stop working. I've got a bluetooth adapter ordered, and I've done some work on the next chapter on my phone, so I'm hoping it'll be done sometime this week.
Anyway, hope everyone else is having a great February 😂
Plot Summary : You were warned about Billy Russo but no one told you how one night with him would turn your entire world upside down...
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smut and really brief mentions of difficult pregnancy and c-section. All chapters will contain mentions of babies/pregnancy. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.3k
A/N : My reactive rescue dog's training has been holding me hostage, so I made this nice and dramatic to make up for it being a week late
Chapter List : Chapter One | Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Dinner was... uncomfortable.
It was a shame really, because the pasta that Billy had thrown together was good — far better than you'd expected, given what little you knew about him. You didn't even try to object when he heaped more onto your plate, even though you were still angry, still uncomfortable about everything you'd learned in the last twenty minutes.
And, if it hadn't been for that weighing heavy in the back of your mind, you might have allowed yourself to enjoy the oddly domestic meal.
You kept sneaking glances at him, trying to understand him, trying to understand why he'd been following you instead of just talking to you.
The whole thing felt like it had been ripped straight from the pages of one of the dark romances you sometimes found yourself reading when the twins wouldn't settle and you needed something to keep you from losing your mind. But being stalked by a relative stranger was not as appealing in real life as it was on the page. In fact, the more you thought about it, the more you had to wonder what he'd seen in his week of surveilling you.
You got it. At least, some small part of you understood. Billy had money. A lot of money. The kind of money that probably came with a long list of dishonest people looking to take advantage. And the cold, almost hostile emptiness of his home seemed to suggest that he was a guarded man, desperate to protect what was his.
But you weren't his and you weren't that sort of person. You had no interest in his money, only his time — and not for yourself, but for the twins. That was what got to you the most, that he'd let a week pass without even hinting that he wanted to be a part of their lives and it had hurt. You'd hurt on behalf of the twins who were still far too young to understand.
You didn't speak again until your plate was empty.
"So," you said, unable to keep the edge of exhaustion from your tone, "what does this look like to you?"
Billy leaned back in his chair, dark eyes fixed on yours. He didn't answer straight away, instead he considered the question. Assessed and calculated his answer, giving you a glimpse of his professional side.
"It looks like me and you, raising our children together," he said calmly but confidently.
You let slip a humourless laugh. "That's not an answer."
"Then ask a better question," he shrugged.
"Fine. How?" You asked. "How do you expect to go from this to... to that?"
"We go back to the start," he said, hitching up one shoulder in a lazy shrug. "We do things properly."
"Properly?"
"Properly," he repeated, only continuing when he noticed your blank stare. "We get to know each other, spend time together — try to build something real."
Your eyebrows rose. "You want to... what? Date?"
His head cocked to the side and he gave you one of those smiles — the kind that had helped him win you over in the first place. "Why not?"
All you could do was stare at him while all the reasons started to list themselves in your mind. "Because we have children? Because we have separate lives and jobs and responsibilities, not to mention a ton of unresolved issues, starting with the fact you were stalking me."
"Surveilling," he corrected again.
"Semantics," you retorted. And that just made his smile grow wider.
"Fine," he shrugged, "but that doesn't change anything. They're my kids. And you — you're not doing this on your own. Not anymore."
You swallowed as an awkward lump lodged in your throat. Your lips parted, but you couldn't bring yourself to protest.
"You're exhausted," Billy continued, his voice softening. "I know this hasn't been easy for you. I just want to help."
Again, he was right. You were exhausted, and after your little display in the park there was no point in trying to deny it.
"We're connected now," he continued. "Whether you like it or not, you're tied to me."
"Do I get a say in any of this?"
"Of course," he said, then shrugged and smiled. "But I always get what I want in the end, and I'm willing to fight for this."
"Why?" It was the one thing that didn't make any sense — why now? Why hadn't he wanted this a week ago?
"Because those kids," he nodded towards the stroller by the floor to ceiling windows, "deserve a family. I can give them good lives and —"
"And you don't think I can? Is that it? You don't think I can give them a fancy life like yours?" Your voice grew louder with each word and, by the end of it, you were on your feet.
Without another word you stalked away from the table towards the twins. You had half a mind to just take them and leave, but the thick curtain of white beyond the window reminded you why you couldn't. The storm was definitely getting worse and, as pissed off as you were, you couldn't risk trying to get home.
Connor squirmed, his eyes open and staring up at you as he let out a gurgle. It was enough to bring a faint smile to your lips, despite the circumstances.
"Is it really so bad?" Billy's voice sounded from somewhere behind you. "The thought of this; a life with me in it?"
Was it?
There had been a point where you had wanted to try, a moment just before he walked out that hotel room where you felt a genuine sense of loss. You had wanted to try, but it had seemed impossible at the time.
"I know you don't understand why I... followed you but, before that, in the Hamptons, did you not even think that maybe —"
"Did you?" You asked, not wanting to let him finish the thought. "Seemed like you couldn't get out of there quick enough."
"That's not what happened. You know that's not what happened."
You turned to find him perched on the sofa, arms folded across his chest. You didn't say anything, you just stared at him and waited for him to continue.
"I asked to see you again. I wanted to see you again," he said, trying and failing to keep his tone neutral.
"And if you had seen me again?" You prompted. "If I'd told you I was pregnant as soon as I knew? What then? Would you have wanted me to keep them?"
"That isn't fair," he said, standing and giving up on trying to keep the sharpness from his voice. "Just because I didn't want kids then, doesn't mean I don't want them now that they're here. You're the one who chose to do things this way. You're the one that didn't give me a choice."
"But you're saying you wouldn't have wanted them if you'd known?"
You weren't sure why you were forcing the argument, or why it felt so important that you won. In fact, you understood what he was saying all too well. You'd spent the length of your pregnancy second guessing yourself, questioning if you even wanted children, but the moment you'd laid eyes on the twins, you'd fallen in love. Billy hadn't been given time to think about it or even come to terms with it, you'd just left the photo for him and turned his life upside down.
"No, that's not —" he let out a frustrated sigh, then shook his head. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that they're here now and I want to be in their lives. I want to be in your life."
"Why?" You asked again, emphasising the word. None of it made sense to you — him wanting to be in the kids lives, you could understand. But wanting to be part of your life?
"Christ, are you really that insecure? I like you. I liked you from the moment I met you."
"You liked that I was easy, that I went along with you little fantasy —"
"My fantasy? Funny because I remember you being pretty eager, and —" he bit off whatever he was going to say and forced a breath, irritation on his face quickly replaced by an unreadable mask. "I liked that you were funny, and I liked the way you smiled at my stupid jokes. I told you, I don't get moments like that very often..."
You wanted to snap back, wanted to keep pushing because — actually, you weren't even sure why. Some part of you still felt raw, wounded by the way he left you that morning and the other night in your apartment, and you wondered if walking away was the only thing he knew. You didn't want to let him into your life only to have him leave you...
But what if he was telling the truth?
What he really did like you?
You couldn't help but think back to your first kiss, the way he'd told you that you deserved to be happy, to be worshipped. Heat licked through your core at the memory, unwanted and unbidden.
Turning again, you glanced down at the twins, then at the snow storm raging outside. You let the silence drag on — not for any malicious reason but simply because you didn't know what you were expected to say to him.
Minutes passed before he spoke again.
"Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I need to head downstairs."
You turned. "You're going out?"
"No, I'm just going to see if I can rustle up somewhere for the kids to sleep."
Suddenly there was a weight in your stomach. Why hadn't you thought of that? You were so caught up in him and everything he'd managed to make you feel in the last few hours that it didn't even cross your mind that there was nowhere for the twins to sleep.
"There's a couple of families in the building, I'm sure someone will have something we can borrow for the night," he continued, already moving back towards the elevator. "The spare room is through there, feel free to help yourself to anything you need."
Before you could think of anything to say, he was gone.
Alone in his frankly massive penthouse, you felt lost, like you didn't belong. But you couldn't dwell on your own discomfort, not when he'd reminded you that the children had needs. They'd been in the stroller for far too long. That was the first issue you decided to deal with.
You gave them one last glance before heading into the spare room to look for anything that might make them a little more comfortable, and returned a few minutes later with some cushions and a thin blanket.
By the time Billy got back, some twenty minutes later, you'd created a safe little nest for the twins on the sofa, and were watching them wiggle about. In his arms he had two basket beds and a pack of diapers. He shrugged you off when you asked where he'd gotten them, and you decided not to press the issue. You didn't want to think about him going door to door and explaining your situation to his neighbours.
Connor sucked on his hand while Chloe kicked her legs around, but both were happy and content, and you allowed yourself to relax beside them. Billy placed a mug of coffee in front of you, and perched on the other side of the wrap around sofa. You kept your focus on the babies, while his fixed on the windows and the world beyond.
"Tell me about them?" He asked after ten minutes of silence, still nursing his coffee mug.
"What do you want to know?"
“Anything. Everything. What they’re like, what they love...”
Your heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze at the near-desperate look in his eyes. He really wanted to know. And, maybe, after everything, it shouldn’t have shocked you as much as it did.
You reached for your coffee and took a slow breath. “Well, Connor is the fussy one — he’s already figured out exactly when it’s feeding time and if I’m even a minute late...” Your lips tugged into a smile, even though the little boy had a habit of making your life a hundred times harder. “And Chloe is... intense...”
“Intense?” He repeated, barely holding back a laugh.
“Yeah, sometimes she’ll just look at you and it’s like she can see right down to your soul, and when she looks at Connor, he settles... it’s like he just knows that he’s safe when she’s around.”
He sat and listened as you continued, telling him all the little things you’d come to learn about the twins since their birth. You told him about their favourite toys and how they both loved listening to music. By the end of it, he was smiling just as much as you were.
“And you?” He asked, his voice turning cautious. “How have you been since that night?”
You couldn't remember the last time someone had asked after you and wanted to know what you had been through. And you… you'd tried not to think about it.
“It… it hasn't been easy,” you answered with a slow breath. “But that's twins for you…”
“Don't do that,” he said. “I want to know.”
“It was hard, Billy. Parts of it were awful.” You felt bad for thinking it, let alone saying it. In the months since giving birth, you'd actively tried not to think about it. It caused a tightness in your chest when you remembered the months of discomfort and sickness, and the constant worry that something would go wrong.
“They were premature?” He asked, but you could tell he already knew the answer.
“Twins usually are…” again you trailed off but, this time, Billy held your gaze, expectant. “I was sick a lot, especially for the last three months. I had to cancel some jobs... couldn't even get out of bed some days..."
"I'm sorry. I should've been there, I should've —"
"You weren't there because I didn't want you to be."
"I could've been," he said, running fingers through his hair in what you assumed was annoyance at himself. "I thought about tracking you down so many times... I thought that if I could see you, if I could have one more night with you, then I could maybe get you out of my head once and for all."
"Billy..." you said softly, almost a warning — but what you were warning against, you didn't know.
Heat blazed across your cheeks, heart hammering in your chest as some part of you dared to hope that it was all true, that Billy wanted you.
"That night — that morning, when it was just the two of us — it wasn't enough," he said, sitting forward a little. "I know it's a lot to ask, and I'm not going to push you for an answer now, but I want you to think about it, about what I said earlier."
"Fine, I'll think about it," you conceded. "But I'm not making any promises. If you want to be in the twins' lives, then I won't try to stop you but my life... my life is mine, Billy, and I get to choose who I let in."
His only response was a nod, and the pair of you drifted back into silence.
The rest of the evening was spent fussing over the babies. Billy held Connor for a little while and spent a few minutes trying to play peek-a-boo with Chloe, while you struggled to keep your eyes open.
You made your excuses at 9 and he helped you move the twins into the spare bedroom so you could get them ready for bed. As he left you, he pointed at the wardrobe and told you to help yourself if you needed something to sleep in. You picked a white shirt, telling yourself that it would make late-night feedings easier but, really, it reminded you of the one he'd been wearing the day you'd met.
The twins were put down and you quickly climbed into bed, too tired to even worry or wonder about the strange predicament that you'd found yourself in. You just closed your eyes and let sleep claim you.
A shrill cry tore you from sleep and you rolled over, eyes opening and expecting to find the familiar sight of your bedroom. Then you remembered where you were. With just the light of your phone, you looked down at the baskets beside your bed, somewhat surprised that it was Chloe and not Connor who had woken you.
You quickly lifted your daughter from her basket, blankets and all.
“Please don’t wake your brother,” you muttered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Chloe’s head. “I know it’s a strange place and you miss your crib, but we’ll go home soon.”
Chloe continued to fuss and wiggle in your arms, tiny limbs flailing in her blanket.
Connor stirred in his makeshift bed but, before Chloe’s gurgles and cries could wake him, you left the room with her. It was dark out in the penthouse, the only light coming from the city beyond the floor to ceiling windows. You made your way towards them, silently appreciating the view as you tried to settle your daughter.
“Look at all the lights, Chloe,” you murmured softly, angling her so she could watch the twinkling lights through the snow that was still falling. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
She gave a cry and you quickly started rocking her again, shushing her and quietly begging her to go back to sleep.
“Is everything okay?” Billy's voice sounded behind you so suddenly that you started.
You didn't turn. “Fine. Chloe’s just fussing.”
Silence followed and, for a few moments, you allowed yourself to hope he'd gone back to bed. Then you heard soft footsteps behind you.
You felt the heat of his body as he stepped closer, stopping right behind you. When you didn’t move or ask him to give you space, Billy closed the gap. His arm tentatively slipped around you, fingers splayed against your stomach, and you let him urge you back against him. Silently, you told yourself it was because you were tired and not because you wanted to be held.
“We could have this,” he said quietly after a few moments, his head beside yours, chin lightly resting on your shoulder.
When you said nothing and made no effort to pull away, his head turned, burying his face in your hair and inhaling. A shuddered breath followed and his fingers flexed against your stomach. And, still, you stayed exactly where you were.
Emboldened, Billy nuzzled closer, pressing his lips to your neck.
A shiver ran up your spine as you remembered every little place those lips had touched you the day you met. Your cheeks burned when you remembered that Chloe was still nestled in your arms, but it still wasn’t enough to ask him to stop.
“I want you,” he murmured against your skin. “I want this. I want to be here for you and the twins.”
His hold on you tightened and, without thought, your head moved, offering more of your neck to him.
It was... fuck, it was nice. It had been so long since anyone had held you, longer still since anyone had made you feel special. In fact, he had been the last to make you feel much of anything. And, now that he was holding you again, you couldn’t help but think back to that morning in bed with him, dozing in his arms after the last time you’d had sex. You hadn’t wanted the moment to end, hadn’t wanted him to leave you.
“How do I know you won’t change your mind?” You asked, voice little more than a whisper. You told yourself that it was because of the sleeping baby in your arms but, really, you weren’t sure you wanted Billy to hear, never mind answer.
“How do I know that you won’t?” He countered, lips still peppering your neck with gentle kisses. “Just… just give me a chance. Let me show you how much I want this...”
Your head turned, this time angling towards him. Billy’s eyes caught yours and, for a breathless moment, everything around you fell completely still and silent.
Neither of you moved for the longest time but, again, you found yourself thinking back to that night, about how he’d made you feel in such a short space of time.
There was no telling which of you closed the distance but, the moment his lips met yours, your eyes fluttered shut. It was a chaste and gentle kiss — a thing you hadn’t experienced with Billy before, a thing you might have once suspected him incapable of. Before you knew it, you were leaning back against him, indulging in the tenderness of the moment.
The gentle lick of his tongue over the seam on your lips had you parting for him, letting him deepen the kiss but, even then, it remained sweet and gentle. He was showing you how it could be, how he could be for you.
And... you wanted it. Against your better judgement, you wanted him, just as you had all those months ago.
It had been a rough few months. Lonely and scary. As much as you’d told yourself that you could manage, that you were fine on your own, it would have been a lie to say that you hadn’t wished for some support.
You melted against him, losing yourself in the warmth and comfort he was offering.
Then Chloe let out another cry.
You managed to bite back a sigh as you pulled from the kiss to look down at her.
"She must be hungry, I should..." you trailed off as Billy's arm slipped from around you.
"Okay," he said, offering the slightest smile through the gloom. "When she's settled we can talk, if you want."
There was an unspoken promise in the look he gave you before turning and heading back to his bedroom.
And, of course, you had no intention of following after him — it was too soon for that, and you had the babies to think about.
Only...
Twenty minutes later you found yourself outside his bedroom, the door left ajar, letting light spill out.
You took a slow breath and dared to nudge the door open. He was sitting in bed, sheets pooled on his lap, revealing his chest. You faltered at the sight and, a split second later, his eyes met yours. Heat flushed your cheeks as you froze, unable to turn and leave and not quite able to will yourself to close the distance. Billy's expression softened and he pulled the sheet to the side, patting the mattress beside him.
Your feet were moving before your mind had the chance to catch up. You didn't want to think about what you were doing or why, you just wanted the comfort that was on offer.
His arms were around you the moment you slipped into his bed, and you were pulled against him.
Everything you knew about him and everything you remembered from the night you'd shared had you bracing yourself, but the flurry of movement didn't come. Even as he laid you back and leaned over you, his movements were slow, cautious. Fingertips grazed your cheeks, and he stared down at you, taking in your face as if he was only just seeing you for the first time.
“What —” his lips swallowed the question before you could ask it.
You were grateful for his kiss, for him taking charge of the situation and keeping you from doubting yourself.
The kiss was slow but soon sparked into something entirely untameable the second you started pulling him closer, thighs parting to allow him between them. You sighed into the kiss as you felt the comforting weight of his body over you. Your fingers instinctively pressed into his back, wanting to hold him close.
But he didn't touch your clothes until he felt your fingers skim the waistband of his boxers. The shirt he'd given you to sleep in was pulled open so quickly that you briefly wondered if the buttons were still all intact.
Your heart threatened to stop when his lips pulled from yours and started to trail down your neck. You frantically tried to reach for the lamp, knowing what he'd find if he continued down your body.
The awkward flailing of your arms didn't go unnoticed and Billy's attention lifted from peppering kisses over your collarbone.
“What's wrong?”
The question alone had you tensing, your head falling to the side to avoid his gaze.
“What?” He asked again, voice softer as his fingers urged you to face him.
You blinked and swallowed hard around the lump in your throat. “I want to turn the light off.”
“Why?” His fingers tenderly caressed your neck, his dark eyes fixed on yours.
“I'm not… like I was that night,” you said.
You didn't want to explain every obvious way that your body had changed after months of carrying twins and the c-section you'd needed during the birth. You'd tried not to think about it, tried to ignore it every time you looked in the mirror, but you weren't sure he'd want you if he saw it all.
Billy stared blankly before his expression softened, finally understanding.
“Do you really think that matters to me?” He asked. You didn't dare answer. “Look at me.” He lifted himself a little and you dared to glance down at his chest and the scars that littered his skin. “If you don't care about mine, why would I care about yours?”
A rhetorical question-- at least, you assumed it was, but then Billy stayed quiet, waiting for an answer.
“Because you're you,” you murmured. “You could have anyone you wanted…”
“I want you. I don't want anyone else,” he said simply and without hesitation. “Let me show you how much I want you...”
You didn't protest or try to reach for the lamp again as his lips returned to your collarbone, kissing down to the valley between your breasts. His lips were gentle, worshipping you, mindful of the fact you were sore from breastfeeding.
“Fuck, you're perfect,” he muttered against your skin as he sank lower, spending at least a minute running his lips over the scar on your abdomen. “Every single inch of you.”
Your breath caught in your chest and it was a struggle not to let out a relieved sob and ruin the moment.
Billy must have sensed the effect that his words had had because he lifted his head to look up at you.
“I mean it. How could I think you're anything less than perfect when you made our two beautiful babies?”
Our. The world made it feel like the room was spinning around you. It made everything finally feel real. More than that, it stoked a fire inside of you, a burning need to have him, to keep him.
You relaxed and his lips were instantly on you again, kissing across your stomach before trailing his tongue around your navel in a teasing display of what was to come.
“I never got a proper taste last time,” Billy muttered as he sank lower, his head slipping between your spread thighs.
It was only when he pulled away your panties that you realised how wet you were. Heat filled your body as Billy swore and teasingly ran his finger through your arousal. Your hips jerked off the bed and into his touch, eager for more. And Billy didn't disappoint.
His lips descended and he kissed you before spreading your folds with his tongue and staring to devour you. A keening sound spilled from you at the feeling of his warm, wet tongue grazing your clit.
Billy began to devour you. You pressed your hand to your lips to stifle the moan that was desperate to escape you, still vaguely aware of the sleeping twins in the other room. He was like a man possessed, his lips and tongue worshipping you, and groaning as if he was the one rapidly approaching an orgasm.
He slid a finger inside of you as you started to come, pumping it in and out of the heat of your body, dragging you through one climax and towards the next. Your hips jerked off the bed, simultaneously desperate for more and seeking reprieve from the overstimulation. Each gasped breath you took was punctuated with his name, begging and pleading with him for more.
And more.
And more.
By the time he lifted his head and withdrew his finger, you were shaking. Sparks of pleasure shot through your body, and you almost worried that you'd never come down from the high he'd led you to.
But Billy wasn't done, and no part of you even considered rejecting him as he moved back over you, settling above you. In fact, it was you who pushed down his boxers and freed his cock. And it was you that stroked him to full hardness and led him between your thighs.
"Are you sure?" He asked, his lips mere inches from yours.
The words wouldn't come so, instead, you kissed him.
It was all the sign that Billy needed.
You weren't sure which of you moaned when he slid inside you, only that the sound was lost in your kiss. Once he was buried inside of you, Billy stilled.
“Has there been anyone since me?” He asked in a low mutter against your lips
“No,” you managed to speak despite how overwhelmed you felt.
You didn't dare ask him the same in return.
Again, you caught him staring at you but before you could question it, he started to move.
It wasn't like the other times, it wasn't eager and playful, nor was it lazy. It was almost reverent, like he really was worshipping you. Every shift of his hips, every drag and thrust of his cock was measured, ensuring you felt every inch of him. He wasn't just fucking you, he was taking you apart piece by piece.
You'd never felt anything like it — hell, you'd never even known that sex could feel so good.
Your fingers trailed up and down his back, feeling the way his muscles shifted and flexed with every drive of his hips. Just like that night together, you found that you couldn't get enough of him. Even now, with him inside of you and pushing you to the heights of pleasure, you knew you'd always want more.
“Fuck, Billy,” you moaned mindlessly as you felt the pressure mounting inside of you.
His lips claimed yours — and that's what it was. A claiming. He was showing you that you were his and that nothing would ever feel as good as he did inside you.
You hitched your thigh on his hip and Billy groaned into your mouth. The new angle allowed him to sink deeper, to claim even more of you, but you still wanted more. It had been months since you’d been touched, and his was the last touch you’d known. You wanted to feel like you had that morning before he’d left; boneless and wrung out, without a care in the world.
“Please...” you gasped.
He didn’t even have to ask what you needed, he just knew. The pace increased and your toes curled as the pleasure built inside of you. You came with a gasp and a moan, and the intensity of it was enough to have Billy tumbling over the edge with you. He swore as his pace stuttered and finally stopped, pressing his forehead to yours as he emptied himself inside you.
You were both left panting, clinging to each other and the moment that was slowly starting to ebb away.
When he rolled away, he pulled you against him, holding you as you fell asleep on his chest.
A/N : I'm genuinely fighting the urge to turn this into something darker than planned every time I write a new chapter 😂 Hopefully I'll be able to get the next part done by next week -- it's really hard to train a reactive dog when it's raining all the time (honestly, he's lucky he so cute) Also sorry that I'm so behind with comments and things over the last couple of months, I'm just exhausted lately.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will hopefully be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.
Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18
Plot Summary : You were warned about Billy Russo but no one told you how one night with him would turn your entire world upside down...
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing really in this one, just some drama and angst. All chapters will contain mentions of babies/pregnancy. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.2k
A/N : A day late because I had to take the dog for x-rays yesterday (it was a check up for an on-going issue he's had since before we adopted him). Also, another cliffhanger ending... I'm not sorry about this one though 😂
Chapter List : Chapter One
Chapter Two
His hands were sweating as he gripped the steering wheel.
His heart racing.
Two blocks from your apartment, he almost changed his mind and turned around to head home. It didn't feel real — it couldn't be real. He couldn't be a father. He just couldn't. So what game were you playing? What were you trying to pull?
He needed to know, needed to deal with whatever the fuck this was — because he couldn't be a father.
Your building was like every other in the neighbourhood but, for the first time in his life, Billy found himself staring, wondering if it was a good place to raise children.
It was... fine. Certainly no worse than some of the places he'd lived before Anvil first turned a profit. But, still, the thought persisted, worsening even as he stepped inside. There was no lock on the building door and no doorman to keep undesirables out (though in this case he knew he should be glad that there was no-one to keep him from you).
He checked the apartment number again and headed for the elevator — which, thankfully, seemed operational. He couldn't even begin to imagine how you'd cope with twins if the elevator didn't —
God, why was he thinking like that? Why wouldn't his mind just stop? This had to be some sort of scam. How could he of all people be a father?
Billy almost didn't notice the elevator ping or the doors opening, too lost in his own thoughts and busy reassuring himself that none of it was real. By the time he reached your door, he'd steeled himself, ready to call you out on your lies.
That lasted all of ten seconds — the time it took for him to knock on your door and for you to answer.
His heart gave an uncharacteristic stutter when he saw you, remembering the vibrant and beautiful woman he'd spent the night with all those months ago. In her place he found you looking tired, wearing leggings and an oversized hoodie, hair looking like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. The words died on his lips and you just stared at him, blinking back tears.
Silence hung between you for almost twenty seconds, until you finally spoke.
"I — I suppose you want to come in," you said, opening the door a little wider and standing aside.
He let his gaze linger on you as he stepped into your apartment, but then he found his attention wandering. It was small — tiny by comparison to his penthouse — and the door looked easy to breach. But it was warm and clean, furnished and decorated with little touches that were in line with what he knew about you.
"Do you want a coffee? I could —" you started to ask.
"No, I want answers." He didn't mean to sound so cold, so direct, but he wasn't about to get sidetracked.
You let out a slow exhale, clearly unprepared for this. "Okay."
With a nod of your head, you directed him into the sitting room and to the sofa. Billy cast the double bassinet beside the TV a wary glance before sitting. You remained on your feet for a few seconds before finally sitting, leaving plenty of space between yourself and him.
You didn't speak, you waited, letting him direct the conversation.
"What the fuck is going on?" He asked.
It was as good a place as any to start.
You took another slow breath and started to pick at your nails, barely able to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. There was a pang of guilt at turning up unannounced, but then he remembered that you had started it. If you hadn't wanted this then you shouldn't have left the photograph.
"Okay, well... firstly, I just want you to know that I don't expect anything from you. I just —"
"Can you get to the part where I have two kids?" He interrupted. "I thought you were on the pill — are you sure they're even mine?"
You pressed the cuff of your hoodie to your eye, and Billy immediately felt like an asshole.
"You're the only guy I've..." you didn't say it, but he knew enough to know what you were getting at. "But I fucked up... I was sick before the wedding — actually, I was sick most of the week leading up to it..."
"And?" He prompted, needing a clearer answer.
"Throwing up sick. I was stressed about the wedding, and all the jobs I had lined up... it didn't even occur to me that I'd been bringing the pills back up," your voice trembled as you explained.
"So, when we fucked the morning after the wedding..." he trailed off. You swallowed hard and nodded. "And you waited this long to tell me?"
"I was in Bali when I found out," you said, voice little more than a whisper. "I got really sick. Passed out — that's when I found out I was ten weeks pregnant. I thought it was all the travel and jetlag making me feel sick but..."
A soft gurgle from the bassinet pulled Billy's attention away from you, and his heart jumped into his throat.
"I wasn't sure if I wanted to..." with the babies in the room, you couldn't seem to bring yourself to finish the thought. "I didn't know what you'd say if I told you. I was scared that we wouldn't agree... scared that you'd think I'd done it deliberately..."
"So, why tell me? Why turn my life upside down?"
Again, you were silent — nothing like the snappy, smart women he'd taken to bed all those months ago, more like the awkward woman who'd pushed him into a supply closet. It weighed on him more than he thought it should. Despite everything, he didn't want you to be uncomfortable. He was there for answers, not to attack a new mother.
"I thought you deserved to know, but I didn't know how to tell you," you said, glancing at the bassinet. "I didn't want to just show up and force you to deal with it. And I — I didn't want you to think it was because I wanted anything from you."
You bit your lip, clearly thinking of what else to say, so he remained quiet, letting you think.
"In a few years, when they're old enough, they're going to want to know about their dad," you started again, "and if you never want to know them, I'd rather tell them that you're dead..."
"You'd lie to them? Why? Just so you don't have to tell them they were conceived during a one night stand?" He asked, not sure if he was annoyed or hurt by the implication.
"No, I'd lie to save them from knowing their father never wanted them."
Billy's guts started to coil, tying themselves in knots at the thought. It hit far closer to home than he thought it ever would. How was he better than his own parents if he just walked away from his children?
His head dropped into his hands, fingers slipping into his hair. He took an uncomfortable, ragged breath, trying to think it all through.
Could he just abandon them? Pretend they didn't exist and go on with his life?
Was it even the same as what his parents had done to him when the twins had you to take care of them?
"What am I supposed to do?" He asked. "What do you expect me to do? This isn't what I wanted."
"I don't expect anything from you," you said, tone sharpening. "I told you, I just wanted you to know. What you want is up to you."
Billy lifted his head to look at you again. "And how are you going to cope if I say I want nothing to do with them? Kids are expensive. Twins are —"
"I have some money saved," you interrupted before he managed to say anything regrettable. "I'll be going back to work in a few weeks, and I'm thinking about making a studio space here and doing some work from home. I don't need your money, I just wanted to give you an opportunity to be in their lives."
"And you expect me to —"
A cry came from the bassinet and Billy tensed, completely losing track of what he wanted to say.
You waited a couple of seconds but, when the crying didn't stop, you sighed and got to your feet. The knot in his stomach grew tighter as you stooped to scoop up a tiny, wiggling bundle. You shot him a gentle smile as you stood back to full height, cooing at the baby in your arms.
Billy wasn't sure when he got to his feet or took that first step, but he paused all movement when you angled the baby towards him.
"This is Connor," you said, rocking the baby in your arms. "His sister Chloe is still sleeping."
Connor and Chloe. Now that they had names — now that he knew he had a girl and a boy — it all seemed far too real.
"— the fussy one. He won't stay down..." you were still talking but he had no idea what you'd said. Until "do you want to say hello?"
You took a step forward and he took one backwards. Billy Russo, recon Marine sniper, was backing up like a fucking coward. But once he'd taken one step he couldn't help but take another. And another.
As he left your apartment he was sure he heard you say his name, but he didn't stop moving until he was back in his car, sweaty palms pressed against the steering wheel as he fought against the tightness in his chest and the roiling in his stomach.
Before starting the engine and pulling away from the curb, he made another call to Anvil, wanting all available information on you and the children.
The very next day, he started watching you. First from the roof of a building across the street — a perfect snipers nest to observe his target. He was looking for anything that might tell him why you were lying to him, anything to prove your dishonesty.
But you did nothing.
It was just a long day of watching you pace back and forth through your little apartment, first trying to settle one baby, then the other. It was endless. If he'd been feeling paranoid, he might have wondered if you somehow knew he was watching, and it was all just an act. But, no, that was a little far even for him.
He took the next day off work and continued to watch you, despite the cold weather. When you headed out, he followed you, watching as you got halfway around the grocery store before one of the babies started to fuss and you abandoned your shopping.
The next day, you took a trip to a coffee shop, where you got all of twenty minutes of respite before a screaming child had you leaving, embarrassed.
By the fourth day, Billy had given up on trying to catch you in some nefarious plot and, instead, found himself watching because he wanted to know if you were okay. He started to hope that the twins would settle and give you one peaceful day, but it seemed less and less likely with every day that passed.
You didn't reach out to him — didn't reach out to anyone as far as he could tell. It was just you and the babies. And, as the week drew on, he noticed all the little things that he'd missed that night in your apartment. You weren't just exhausted, you looked ill, your face thinner and your smile was nowhere near as bright as it had been the day you'd met.
The more he watched, the more he came to realise that you'd been telling the truth; you didn't want anything from him. You were going to do it all on your own.
Good. It made his life easier knowing that he could forget all about you and the twins.
... right?
He was a lot of things but Billy Russo was not cut out to be a father.
But still, day after day, he followed you. Watching as your struggles became more and more apparent. Watching until he just couldn't take it any longer.
He had been trailing you through Central Park, watching as you forced smiles for anyone who glanced at the double stroller or at the babies, until you finally found a quiet bench and sat.
Your head dropped into your hands for a few seconds, and Billy continued to watch from a distance until the first ear-splitting scream sounded from the pram. You tried soothing the child by pushing the stroller back and forth but the wails only got louder. Then you scooped up the crying infant and started to rummage in your bag for something.
Billy was moving the moment the bottle landed on the path and started rolling away from you. He reached it before you and — fuck, you were so exhausted that, when you looked up, it took a moment to even recognise him.
"Billy?" Your voice was quiet, weak.
He was at your side in an instant, ushering you back onto the bench.
Before he could think about it, his hand was on your cheek, his dark eyes staring into yours.
The baby was still crying but, for a moment, it felt like the two of you were totally alone, and Billy's heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze when he saw the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, lips parted like you wanted to say something but the words wouldn't come.
He moved on instinct — an instinct he didn't even know that he possessed until that moment— and took the crying bundle from your arms. And you let him. Without question or argument, you trusted him to pluck the screaming babe from your grasp.
That same instinct had him pulling the lid from the baby's bottle and holding the nipple to its lips. (He wasn't even sure which of the twins he was holding; it was just a bundle of white blankets.)
The baby continued to wail, refusing the bottle.
"He's fussy, he... he won't take his bottle... he won't breastfeed, I — I don't know what to do..." You finally found your voice and Billy could hear the exhaustion in every syllable.
He.
Connor.
Billy was holding his son.
It maybe would have been more profound if it hadn't been for the tears wetting your cheeks and the infant's wailing.
"It's okay," he said softly, though he wasn't sure which of you he was talking to. He bounced Connor gently and kept the bottle near his lips, waiting until the baby finally latched on and fell silent.
The quiet lasted a second before it was replaced by an awful gasping sob from your lips.
"I'm sorry," you blubbed. "I just... he won't —"
"Its okay," Billy told you, barely able to look away from Connor now that he was feeding. He took a slow breath. "It's okay now, he's stopped crying, see?"
You scrubbed at your cheeks with your sleeve and glanced at the settled baby, then at Billy.
"How did you..." you started, sniffling. "You're here... why are you here?"
"I wanted to see if you needed any help."
It wasn't an answer, but you were in no frame of mind to question him. You just stared at him blankly.
"I thought you didn't want to —"
"I know," Billy interjected, glancing from you to Connor. "This — this is a lot to wrap my head around, but I... I don't want you to have to do this completely alone."
He wasn't sure where the sentiment came from, only that he meant it. Billy didn't know how to do any of this — hell, he didn't know what this really was — but watching you over the last week had made him realise that he didn't want you to struggle. For better or worse, they were his children too, and he couldn't just abandon them.
"I thought that I could..." you said, scrubbing your cheeks again. "I thought I could manage. You... you don't have to... if you don't want..."
Your words were muffled by the press of your sleeve against your mouth, as you tried to keep yourself from falling apart.
"It's okay," he said again. "I'm here now."
Again, you didn't question, didn't tell him that it was too late or that you didn't want him there.
Another sound came from the stroller and you visibly tensed, bracing yourself.
"Is she okay?" Billy asked as you leaned over the pram to check on Chloe.
"It's okay," you told the baby, barely paying Billy any mind, "Connor is... he's with his daddy."
The last part came out a half-choked whisper, and Billy couldn't blame you for it. His heart beat faster as you lifted another bundle from the pram, and held it to your chest. Billy watched as you got your daughter — his daughter — comfortable in your arms and pulled the comforter away from her face.
Chloe had dark eyes, just like Billy's, and any lingering doubt over the twins' parentage disappeared completely. It was impossible to tell if she was staring at him or looking up at the sky, but he wanted to think she was looking at him.
"She's beautiful," Billy said, before letting his eyes drop back to Connor. "They both are."
You smiled and nodded but, when you blinked, more tears started to fall.
"What?" He asked. You shook your head. "Hey, it's okay..."
"They're just... they're so small..." you said, voice trembling. "I never thought that they'd be so... so small and fragile... What if I break them? What if I can't —"
"It's going to be okay," he told you with a certainty that he couldn't explain. "They're going to be okay. I'll make sure of it."
"You will?"
Billy kept his eyes fixed on Connor. "Yes."
You were quiet after that, seeming to get lost in the relative silence once both babies had settled. A few more tears fell, but once both of the babies were settled and quiet, you almost allowed yourself to relax. (How often did you get moments like this, he wondered.)
If the weather had been nicer, he would have been content to stay there for as long as you wanted, but the first flakes of snow warned of an on-coming storm that he didn't want you getting stuck in. So, once Connor had finished his bottle, Billy stood and lowered the baby back into the stroller, then carefully took Chloe from you and placed her with her brother.
"Come on," he said, offering you his hand.
You didn't ask where you were going, you just allowed Billy to lead you from the park and towards his building. He remained by your side, guiding you, and occasionally found himself glancing down at the sleeping babies. It was surreal. Less than 24 hours ago, he never would have considered what he was doing, taking you home with him, but he wanted to get you somewhere warm and quiet.
He didn't question his desire to look after you or the babies — he tried not to think about much of anything, just his mission to get you out of the cold before the snow got worse.
"Come on," he said again as he helped you get the pram through the door and into his building, then resumed leading you towards the elevator. One of the babies stirred, and you tensed at the sound but, thankfully, it was nothing more that a sleepy gurgle.
The elevator pinged and the doors opened directly into the penthouse — but even that didn't get much of a reaction from you. You looked around nervously before deciding to slip off your boots, leaving them by the elevator.
He took your coat and ushered you towards the sofa, leaving the pram by your abandoned boots.
"What about —"
"It's fine, they're both still asleep," he said, urging you to sit down. "How do you take your coffee?"
You told him, but he lingered for a few seconds, making sure you'd stay put before disappearing towards the kitchen. When he returned he found you'd sunk back on the sofa.
Your fingers brushed against his as you took the mug from him, and Billy couldn't help but remember all the ways those fingers had touched him the night you'd met.
He'd been trying not to think about it but, well, it had been the best night of his life, and forgetting all about it would have been impossible. The truth was, when he'd left you that morning, he had wanted to see you again, but with your work it had just felt impossible.
He hadn't wanted to wait. He'd been selfish — wanting you right away, wanting you over and over. It had worried him just how much he had wanted you after that night. So, he'd let you go. Given up on what could have been.
Now he had a second chance. Now he was certain that you hadn't planned any of it, that you weren't trying to trick or trap him.
But, now, he also had two babies to think about, babies that he still wasn't sure he wanted.
Sitting next to you, Billy let out a slow sigh.
"When was the last time you had a full night's sleep?" Billy asked. Your only answer was a shrug.
He let it go, let you take a few sips of coffee, settling back on the sofa. He already knew the answer — if what he'd witnessed over the last week was anything to go by, you hadn't slept properly since before the twins were born.
"Looks like there's a storm on the way," Billy said after a few minutes of quiet, watching the flurry of snow falling beyond the window. "Maybe you should wait it out here for a little while..."
"Mhmm," you hummed.
When Billy looked back towards you, you were already half asleep, empty coffee mug hanging limply from your hand. He didn't say anything, didn't try to rouse you. He just watched as you slowly drifted off.
Certain you were asleep, he carefully scooped you off the sofa and carried you to his room. It hadn't been his plan when he'd brought you back here, but he was glad you were sleeping, and he wanted to make sure you were comfortable, so he tucked you up in his bed and left you there.
Outside the snow continued to fall.
The babies slept for a couple of hours, giving him time to throw some pasta in a pan and make a start on dinner. And, more importantly, he had time to think about his next move. This was an opportunity he wasn't going to squander.
Everything was going great until Chloe started to scream. As quick as Billy was to pluck her from the pram and start rocking her, the outburst still woke you.
"What's —" you stepped out of his bedroom and stopped, looking around and trying to get your bearings.
You immediately started toward Billy when your eyes landed on him, arms outstretched to take the fussing baby.
"It's okay," Billy said, reluctantly handing over the infant. "I think she just needs changing."
You gave a sniff and nodded in agreement. "Right. Where can I..."
Again, you glanced around the penthouse, more alert and aware of where you were now you'd managed to sleep for a couple of hours.
"Bathroom is just through there," Billy offered, waving you to a door, and you wasted no time in disappearing through it, the diaper bag from the stroller over your arm.
While you were gone, he found himself watching Connor. The little boy's eyes were open and staring up at him, uncoordinated hands flailing and reaching for Billy. Connor had your eyes, but Billy could still see a shred of himself in the boy. He lowered his hand and let tiny fingers grip his thumb.
"It's going to be alright," Billy told Connor softly. "I'm going to make sure of it."
"Well, we should really get going," you said, pulling Billy's attention as you left the bathroom a few minutes later, Chloe settled in your arms.
"That's not a good idea," Billy said, nodding towards the window, where the flurry had started to become a storm. "Weather reports say it's getting worse out there, and I don't think you'll be able to get a taxi..."
"We can't just —"
"You can. I've already made dinner."
You faltered, halfway across the penthouse and stared at him. "You've made dinner?"
"I wasn't sure how long you were going to sleep," he shrugged.
"You should've woken me, I —" you fell silent when Billy sighed.
"You were exhausted and the kids have been sleeping," he said. "I thought you all needed the rest." You had no argument for that, and Billy could tell that the nap had done you and the babies some good. "It's just dinner — and it's better being stuck here where it's warm than trying to get back to Brooklyn."
You glanced towards the window warily before your shoulders slumped. It would be dangerous and stupid to take the kids outside in the middle of a snow storm, and there was no way you were going to make it home.
"Okay," you said reluctantly, then; "sorry... I didn't mean to fall asleep or —"
"It's fine. You needed some rest."
You looked down at Chloe, then back at Billy. "They need feeding..."
"Did you bring anything? I could —"
"No, I mean... I need to feed them."
Right. He got the message. You were breastfeeding. "You can use my room, and while you do that, I'll finish making dinner."
It took half an hour, and judging from the snatches of conversation he caught coming from the bedroom, the kids weren't making it easy for you. He wanted to go and see if you needed any help, but he didn't think you'd appreciate it. You needed space, needed to get used to the thought of him being around.
Instead, he busied himself with dinner, getting it ready for the moment you reemerged.
By the time you did, you looked ready to take another nap.
The twins were left in the stroller, content and sleepy again now that they had full bellies, and you were ushered towards the table. He poured you a glass of water and piled a healthy dollop of pasta on your place before dealing with his own.
"Help yourself," he said, waving a hand at the bowl of fresh Parmesan cheese and the plate of crusty bread.
"Never would've guessed that you could cook," you said and, for a moment, he saw a hint of the woman he'd met at that hotel in the Hamptons ten months ago.
Billy smiled as he reached for a piece of bread. "Not a lot, but I can cook enough to keep myself alive."
"Well, this is... it's nice. Thank you." Then, a beat later; "thank you for all of this."
" You don't have to thank me," he said, barely holding back a sigh. "I'm sorry. I should have found you sooner..."
"What?"
The tone of the conversation dramatically shifted, but Billy wasn't the type to beat around the bush. He needed to be open and honest with you, otherwise this would never work out.
"How did you know where we were?" You asked, starting to put the pieces together. "The park is huge, there's no way you just happened to bump into us..."
He took a slow breath. "I've been keeping an eye on you."
"What?" You straightened, eyes narrowing.
"I'm not going to lie to you," Billy said, keeping his tone neutral. He knew you weren't going to like what he had to say, but he wasn't going to treat you like an idiot. "When you told me that the twins were mine, I didn't believe you."
"So you've been following me?"
"Yes," he said simply. "I needed to know that you were being honest."
"Most normal guys would have just asked for a paternity test."
"I'm not most normal guys."
"No, you're — you're psychotic."
You glared at him, as if you were expecting the insult to cut. It didn't.
If anything, you'd hit the nail on the head. There was something wrong with him, some flaw in his genetics that had him doing terrible things — it was why he'd always been such a good Marine, such a good sniper. The target never mattered, just the end result.
"Maybe." He shrugged it off. When you moved to get to your feet, Billy reached across the table, grabbing your wrist. "Just... just hear me out."
"Why?"
"Because you said I could be in their lives."
"I said that and you walked out. Now I find out you've been stalking me and —"
"Surveilling," he corrected, letting go of your wrist when you settled down again. "I've been surveilling you."
"Call it whatever you want, I'm not —"
"You can't do this on your own," he said. When you looked like you were going to argue, he continued. "I get it, you're upset — I was upset when I found out that you'd been keeping the twins a secret from me for months."
"So you decided to follow me?"
He didn't bother to correct you again. "Look around. I wasn't born with any of this, I earned it. I didn't get to where I am today by just believing the best in people. We don't know each other and I need to be sure of you before I let you into my life."
"Let me into your life?" You asked, confused. "I asked for the kids, so you could be in their lives."
"I know," Billy sat back as he spoke, calm and in control, "but I don't want this to be some arrangement where I just see them on weekends, and you only hang around long enough to drop them off."
"Then what do you want?" You asked.
"You."
"What?"
"I've wanted you since the moment we met." It came out simple and casual, as if it wasn't causing his stomach to tie itself in knots.
"For sex, Billy. You wanted me for sex — and you got what you wanted and then some."
"I wanted to see you again after that night." Again, you looked ready to protest. "I'm not asking for you to decide right now, but I want to be honest with you. If I'm going to do this, I want to do it right. All I'm asking for is a chance. Just stay the night, get to know me..."
"Stay the night?" You repeated.
"Not like that..."
"Like what then?" You answered back. It shouldn't have bothered him that you thought sex was the only thing he wanted — after all, you'd been warned about him before you'd even met him — but Billy was trying, and he wanted you to know that.
"Like this. Just, stay and talk to me. Let me spend some time with them..."
You fell silent and every second that dragged by seemed to last a lifetime. Your eyes drifted to the window and the storm raging outside, and you sighed.
"I guess I don't have much of a choice..."
A/N : There was a version of this ending that got super dark 😂 but I decided against putting anyone through that. We'll be back with reader's PoV next week, so you'll get to see just what she thinks of all of this.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will hopefully be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.
Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18
Plot Summary : You were warned about Billy Russo but no one told you how one night with him would turn your entire world upside down...
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Lots of smut inc. a threesome (ffm). All chapters will contain mentions of babies/pregnancy. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.8k
A/N : I don't have much to say except enjoy? (also sorry, it's a bit of a cliffhanger ending...)
Chapter One
It had been a long service. The bride and groom had written their own vows and, honestly, they'd written far too much. But you were used to it. Weddings were your bread and butter, though this time it felt less like work and more like torture. You were friends with the bride — well, okay, friends wasn't quite the right word. Friendly. You moved in the same circles.
You knew her well enough that when she asked you to photograph her wedding for a reduced fee, you couldn't say no. They, at least, paid for your room in the swanky Hamptons hotel where they were holding the wedding, which mostly made it worthwhile, even if you'd spent the last couple of weeks ill — you'd always wanted to go to the Hamptons.
Finally, after the vows were said and done, you had a break, a small window where you could get something to eat and drink. You opted for the hotel bar, away from the function room where the happy couple and their guests were having their fancy meals. Instead you ordered yourself a burger and a glass of wine, receipt carefully put away to claim back as an expense later.
He had been sat at the bar for almost as long as you, and you wouldn't have known he was from the wedding party if it hadn't been for his tux — and, fuck, that man certainly knew how to fill out a tuxedo...
Despite trying not to listen in, it was clear he was on a business call and he wasn't particularly happy. So much so that, when he hung up, he ordered himself a double whiskey and remained at the bar instead of returning to the wedding.
He let out a sigh, and you couldn't help yourself; "rough day?"
The question had him lifting his head and looking your way, a smile appearing on his lips. "It was, but I have a feeling it's about to get better."
His dark eyes fixed you with the kind of stare that, under different circumstances, might have stoked a heat inside you. But you'd been warned about this — about him.
"Oh," you said, realisation quickly dawning on you. "You must be Billy..."
Surprise flashed on his face, then an eyebrow rose, an unspoken question hanging between you.
"Your, uh... reputation precedes you," you said after swallowing. "We were warned about you."
You didn't expect him to grin or laugh but he did, and suddenly you realised exactly why you'd been warned.
Without a word, he slipped off his stool and moved to the one next to you, still smiling.
"And what exactly did they say about me?" He asked.
"Oh, that you were charming and handsome, and you could talk any girl out of her panties," you said, shrugging. "But, now I see you, I'm starting to wonder if they were talking about someone else."
He laughed again and, yeah, you already knew that you were in trouble.
"Bride or groom?" He asked, ignoring your teasing.
"Bride — not well, but well enough that I got roped into doing the photography with the friends and family discount." He propped himself up with his elbow atop the bar and gazed at you like you were the only other person in the world.
"At least you get a weekend in the Hamptons," Billy shrugged. His eyes dropped for a second, taking in your lilac dress. "If you're taking the photos, why dress up? Not that I'm complaining. A dress like that deserves to be worn..."
You made a show of rolling your eyes.
"Definitely a reputation well deserved," you muttered despite the smile on your lips. "If you must know, I already had the dress. And guests always tend to act more naturally when I blend in."
"They didn't offer to feed you?"
"They did but the options seemed a little too... fancy for my tastes," you shrugged, nodding at what remained of your burger. "And they offered to sit me at the kids table."
"Well, I'm glad they did 'cause I hate to drink alone," he said, grinning. "So, you're a photographer? Do you do a lot of weddings?"
"Yeah, mostly destination stuff — I get to travel and stay in fancy hotels on someone else's dime. It's pretty great most of the time."
"But you're based in New York?"
"Yeah, though I'm not really going to be back for a few months after this."
You spoke about your job, and he asked a few questions; did you run your own business? Yes. What got you into wedding photography? The money. What would you rather do? Travel photography.
If you didn't know any better, you'd have thought he was actually interested in you
He lifted his glass and drained it in one before seamlessly waving the bartender over to refill both of your glasses. You raised an eyebrow and glanced towards the door, but didn't protest. "Trust me, you don't want to be in there for the speeches, I've seen some of them already and the vows were nothing in comparison."
"You're with the groomsmen, right?"
That was why you and the bridesmaids were given the warning, because he was expected to be around. You just hadn't thought you'd bump into him in the wild, so to speak.
"Guilty," he said, almost managing to look sheepish. "I ducked out to deal with some business."
"What kind of business are you in?"
"The kind I don't like boring beautiful women with."
An undignified snort of laughter escaped you. "Wow, does that line ever work?"
Billy joined in with your laughter. "I don't know, you'll have to tell me in the morning."
"Do you need me to see if I can find a shovel to help with the hole you're digging?"
"I could tell from the moment I set eyes on you that you'd want something deeper."
You doubled over, palms flat on the bar as you struggled to breathe through your laughter. "Oh my god, stop."
When you finished laughing, you carefully wiped beneath your eyes, hoping your mirth hadn't caused your mascara to run. He was still looking at you but his expression had turned... softer. Honest.
"What?" You asked, barely noticing that you were angling towards him, propping your head on your hand to mirror him.
"Nothing, I just... I don't get moments like this very often..." he said, his voice losing some of its joking edge and becoming something else entirely.
"No?"
He shook his head. "Normally my charms are far too effective."
You smirked and took a long sip of wine. "Shame I was warned all about you."
"Oh, I'm sure you weren't warned about everything."
"Well, now I'm interested... I love a man with hidden depths..." you said playfully.
You weren't sure what it was about him, his disarming good looks, his playfulness, or the fact that no one had looked at you the way he was in a very long time, but it was getting harder and harder to remember why you'd been warned about him. (Or, really, harder to care — so what if he was a womaniser? It had been months since you last got laid, and Billy was very easy on the eyes.)
"Admit it, you were interested the moment you were told I'm a bad idea, " he said, seeming to lean a little closer. "And now you've seen me, you're wondering what it'd be like to spend a night in my bed."
Your cheeks warmed and you glanced down the bar towards the bartender, making sure she was out of earshot. She was, but the young, pink-haired woman caught your gaze and offered a knowing smile as if she knew what the pair of you were discussing.
"Is that what you're thinking about?" You asked, trying to turn the question back on him.
"It's what I've been thinking about since I first sat down."
"Just like that? You don't even know me..."
"Does that matter?" He asked. "It's a wedding. I could give you the best night of your life and you'd never have to see me again."
"I don't do one night stands," you shrugged. It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.
"I'm fine being a dirty little secret."
"Emphasis on the dirty?" You said with a smile, shocked that you were even considering it.
But you were considering it. If only because he was being honest about what he wanted... and because he was handsome and funny.
"If you want dirty..." he trailed off and shrugged.
Warmth spread along your thigh, and it took a moment for you to realise that it wasn't arousal but his hand that was causing your skin to heat. And, once the hand was there, you didn't have the heart to move it.
"I'm not hearing a no..." he said, leaning closer, letting his lips brush against your cheek as he spoke.
"I'm... thinking..." you answered in little more than a whisper, suddenly finding yourself surrounded by the musky scent of his cologne.
His fingers gave a reassuring squeeze on your thigh.
"Why do I get the feeling you do that a lot?" He asked, still close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against your cheek. Billy leaned closer still to whisper in your ear. "When was the last time you just let yourself have fun without overthinking it?"
When indeed.
You reached for your glass and drained it before glancing at the clock behind the bar.
"We've got twenty minutes before we're needed..."
The words had barely left your lips before he was on his feet, his hand taking hold of yours. You nearly stumbled but followed after as he pulled you out of the bar.
You made it about ten steps before a door across the atrium — the door leading back to the wedding — swung open and one of the bridesmaids appeared.
Panic filled you and you did the first thing to come to mind. You shoved Billy into a supply closet before the pair of you were noticed together.
The door swung shut behind you, and you realised how close you were, and that your hands were on his chest. A second later, his hands were on yours, just holding them against him. It wasn't entirely dark in the storeroom, but it took a moment for your eyes to adjust enough to see the look of disappointment on his face.
He pulled back a step, keeping his hands over yours.
"What?" You asked, dread coiling in your stomach as he shook his head.
'I'm fine being a dirty little secret, but if I embarrass you —"
Your eyes widened, realising what was running through his head. "No, that's not — it's not you, it's me. It's how they see me."
Billy stared at you blankly and all you could think about was the warmth of his hands enveloping yours. He remained silent, wanting for you to explain.
"I've known Kaitlyn since we were kids and... I don't know, she's always going out of her way to make me feel like crap about every little thing?" You said and he continued to stare at you blankly. "In fifth grade she found out Scottie Jameson liked me and she made a big deal of it, telling me that I wasn't ready for a boyfriend, that I wasn't pretty enough... then she went and told him that I didn't even know how to kiss, and —"
You stopped realising how ridiculous you probably sounded.
"It doesn't matter who you are, she'd still find a way to make me feel like shit. She... she has a way of getting in my head, making me feel like I don't deserve anything..."
He stayed quiet, just staring at you. He didn't move until you tried to pull your hands away from his chest, then he surged forward, kissing you fiercely.
A soft gasp slipped from your lips and into his as you were pressed back against the shelves. A possessive sound vibrated in the back of his throat and it had heat licking down your spine. His hands released yours so he could pull you closer, and explore the dips and curves of your body.
"You deserve to be happy," he muttered, lips pulling from yours and moving to your neck. "You deserve to be worshipped."
Fuck.
Fuckfuckfuck.
Even if it was just a line, it soothed some ancient hurt inside of you. No one had ever told you that you deserved anything, that you were worthy of the feelings he was evoking deep inside you. It made you want, made you not care where you were and the warning you'd been given about him.
When his hand moved lower, brushing against your thigh, you brazenly lifted your foot and rested it on a shelf, opening yourself to him. He didn't hesitate, didn't pull away. His hand slid higher, fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, anchoring yourself as the warmth of his touch bled through your cotton panties. Your hips jerked into his touch and he groaned again, and you practically started to drip with arousal.
Despite the passion of the moment, he was slow, almost teasing with his touch, tracing the lines of your folds through your panties before finding your clit. His lips claimed yours again as he started to circle the throbbing bundle of nerves, swallowing your needy moans.
His other hand was on your breast, palming you through the satin.
You came embarrassingly quickly, shuddering against him and pulling him closer, dreading the moment ending. But Billy was far from done. His fingers slipped into your wet panties and two slid inside you, not giving the chance for one orgasm end before starting to push you towards the next.
"Fuck, Billy..." you murmured against his lips, words muffled by his tongue.
Already you could feel your arousal mounting again — though, given his reputation, maybe it shouldn't have surprised you that he knew how to make women fall apart.
Closer and closer, your whole body trembled with each deft movement of his fingers, your heart skipping a beat every time they bent or twisted inside of you. You felt a scream start to form in the back of your throat, your body threatening to fall apart more intensely than it ever had before when —
Light filled the small storeroom and you turned to see the bartender standing in the doorway, gawking at you.
"I, uh —" she said and shook her head, "— shit, I'm so sorry..."
And, just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone.
"Oh my god," you groaned in embarrassment, burying your face against his neck.
If he cared at all that you'd been caught, he didn't let it show. He slowly withdrew his fingers. "Don't worry, I'm sure it happens all the time..."
"In porn maybe," you groaned.
"No, if it was porn she would have asked to join in," Billy offered, fingertips trailing down your thigh as he reluctantly pulled his hand from beneath your dress.
"And if she had, I'm sure you would have said yes," you deadpanned.
"Only if you wanted it too." Billy said, shrugging. The motion was enough to have you finally lifting your head, strangely lost for words — a loss that Billy easily spotted. "Fuck... you're thinking about it, aren't you?"
When he grinned, you finally understood what you'd been warned about; his dangerous charms all tied up in that one expression. He made you feel invincible, like the world was yours for the taking and all you had to do was ask him to hand it to you. And you liked it. You liked the way you felt around him. Brave. Untouchable.
"Well..." you said, offering a shrug of your own, knowing nothing would come of it, "it is a wedding, and people do crazy things at weddings... and she is very pretty..."
"Fuck," Billy said again, "you're supposed to be taking photos of the groomsmen in ten minutes..."
"What's wrong? Worried you're gonna be hard in all the photos?"
"With you on the other side of the camera thinking about a three-way with the barmaid? Yeah..."
You both laughed at that, but as much as you wanted to reignite the moment and finish what you'd started, you couldn't. There wasn't time and whatever cloud of insanity had descended with his first kiss, had dissipated with the arrival of the bartender.
"If it makes you feel any better, I doubt she would've said yes," you offered.
"You don't know that. I can be very persuasive when I want to be."
"Oh, I have no doubt," you said, laughing and giving him a playful pat on the shoulder before lowering yourself off the table. You took a slow breath, then; "well, this was... fun, but I really need to..."
"Let me see you again — when we're both back in New York, let me finish what I started."
At least he was honest about it, making sure you knew it was about sex, and not some pretense at getting to know you. Another time, you might have even said yes, but it wouldn't have worked out.
"Sorry," you said, doing your best to straighten your dress so it didn't look like you'd just been in the middle of hooking up when you were supposed to be working. "I don't know when I'm gonna be in the city next. My calendar is full for months — I fly out to Barbados on Tuesday, then I'm going to Paris, then Bali... everyone wants a destination wedding these days..."
If you didn't know better, you might have thought it was disappointment that dimmed his smile.
"Maybe some other time," he said, but any hint of excitement had been extinguished.
"Right. Well... I should go get my camera gear..."
"Right," he echoed.
You lingered for a second more until the sudden shift between you became smothering. You fled, not daring to look back over your shoulder at the man who'd made you want so much in so little time.
The rest of the afternoon went as planned — you saw him again for the groomsman shots, and again when you shot the whole wedding party. Some silly part of you thought that he might try to find you again later into the evening, when you were wandering the reception, taking candid shots. But, every time you saw him, he was with someone. Mostly beautiful women. He seemed to be a magnet for them, and you understood why.
But he didn't look at you. Not once. Probably for the best. It hadn't been a line when you'd told him that you wouldn't be around and some small part of you wondered if you'd be able to have a man like Billy for just one night without wanting more.
It was a long time before you could finally retire to the quiet of your room, exhausted from the day and a couple of glasses of wine south of sober. You got as far as slipping out of your shoes before giving up and slumping back on the bed, and you might have fallen asleep in your dress if it hadn't been for someone knocking on your door.
With a groan, you got up to see who it was. Opening the door a crack, you realised it was Billy.
"I was thinking about a couple of things you said," Billy said.
"You'll have to be more specific," you said, making a concerted effort to not bite your lip.
"About how it's a wedding, and how anything that happens between us doesn't really count as anything," he said, shrugging. "Well, it's still technically a wedding until tomorrow, so I figured we might as well have some fun."
"What makes you think I want to have fun with you?" You said, fighting to keep a smile from your lips, an awkward feeling of relief swelling inside you.
"Because I'm here to give you exactly what you want."
He held up his left hand, showing off a bottle of champagne that he'd acquired from somewhere, then his attention moved to his right. Your breath caught in your chest when you realised he wasn't alone. His arm was wrapped around the shoulders of the pink-haired bartender.
You remembered what you'd told him in vivid detail and felt heat flush through your entire body.
The bartender grinned at you and offered her hand and you opened the door wider. "We didn't get properly introduced, I'm Meg."
You took her hand and, before you could talk yourself out of it, you were stepping backwards into your room, pulling Meg and Billy with you. Billy shut the door and put the latch on.
He handed you the bottle of champagne and you took a long, clumsy drink, almost managing to choke yourself.
"So," you managed, eyes watering as Billy took the bottle from you and set it down, "how do we..."
Meg smiled and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze — right, you were still holding her hand, you realised. She stepped in front of you and heat burned through every fibre of your being.
You trembled as Meg's fingers grazed your cheek. Her touch was soft and gentle, just like the kiss that followed. She was testing the water, making sure you knew what you wanted. And you did. As insane as it was, you wanted this. You wanted both of them — you wanted to live for one night.
Your lips parted for her, giving a soft moan as she pressed closer. And, as you kissed, you reached for Billy, pulling him closer, wanting — you weren't sure what. Anything. Everything.
Billy moved behind you and started to trail kisses up your neck. From time to time, Meg would pull from your lips to kiss him, and sometimes you'd turn to kiss him yourself. It wasn't long until the three of you found a rhythm, sharing yourselves with each other.
As you clumsily moved towards the bed, a tangle of lips and hands, Billy reached around you and started unbuttoning Meg's blouse while her fingers found your zipper. Your dress hit the floor mere seconds before you tumbled onto the bed with them, and Meg's fingers were redirected to Billy's shirt.
You couldn't tell where you ended and they started, whose fingers were pulling at whose clothes, whose lips were where on your skin. It was already everything you'd ever dared to imagine it could be. Soon enough, you were all naked on the bed..
Emboldened by alcohol and lust, you ran your hands down Meg's chest, cupping her breasts as Billy turned your head to kiss you again.
Your heart skipped a beat when Meg pulled back. Immediately you assumed that you'd done something wrong, that she was going to leave, but then she started to trail kisses down your body. Billy groaned behind you, kissing your neck.
The lower she got, the more you trembled in anticipation. This was definitely not how you'd pictured the weekend going. You weren't sure if it was Meg's hand or Billy's gently pulling at your thigh, urging your legs apart, but you let it happen.
By the time Meg was settled between your splayed legs, your heart was beating so hard you thought it might explode.
"Oh fuck," you moaned at the first gentle lap of her tongue between your folds.
The mattress dipped as Billy moved, but you'd lost track of everything that wasn't Meg. You just pressed your head back into the pillow and focused on the sensations she was creating with her lips and tongue.
You heard the telltale rip of a condom wrapper followed by a moan from Meg between your thighs. Lifting your head, you dared to glance down, your eyes catching the glint of promise in Billy's as he fucked Meg. You next. Your head dropped back again as Meg's tongue swirled around your clit, and you lost yourself the wet heat of her mouth against you.
It was enough to push you over the edge.
"Don't stop," you heard a voice gasp. You wouldn't realise until later that it was you, begging for more.
Your fingers grasped Meg's hair, holding her as she continued to drive you insane with her tongue and, then, her fingers. Every time she moaned against you, your body shuddered.
Billy groaned as he fucked her, and you must have blacked out from your next orgasm because, by the time you could think straight, Billy was laying beside you again. He kissed you, making more of those wonderful sounds directly into your mouth as Meg stroked his cock, getting him hard again.
For you.
He moved over you, fitting between your legs. You dared to look down and watched as he rolled a fresh condom down his cock.
"He's big," Meg muttered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
You almost giggled at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, but then Billy was leaning over you, the tip of his cock pressed against you, waiting for permission. A slight nod from you was all it took for him to move.
Billy slid inside you with ease, a cry of pure pleasure spilling from you. It felt like nothing you'd experienced before, like the two of you were made to fit together.
"Fuck," he groaned, slowly pulling back his hips.
All you could do was stare up at the man on top of you, inside you, barely breathing as he started to move. The only thing that stopped you from babbling and saying something regrettable in the moment was Meg's hand on your cheek, turning your face so she could kiss you again.
You moaned into her mouth and she moaned in reply, Billy's fingers dipping between her thighs.
Again, you found yourself coming far too soon — you wanted the moment to last forever and, instead, all you got was a few minutes. But you weren't the only one. The second you started to writhe and tremble beneath him, you felt Billy pulse inside you, and when you moaned against Meg's lips, she responded in kind.
The three of you collapsed, boneless and spent on the bed, hands now tender and soothing in their exploration.
After an hour, you went again; you riding Billy while Meg sat on his face, kissing you deeply as you both took your pleasure. Then, you collapsed again, sprawled across Billy's chest while Meg pressed into his side.
You were half-asleep when Meg started to move, climbing out of bed, explaining that she had the morning shift.
"This was fun," she said, grinning down at you both as she fastened her bra. "If you guys are ever in town again, you should let me know."
You watched as she finished dressing, your whole body still alight with sparks of pleasure prolonged by Billy's fingers tracing patterns over your bare stomach.
Before leaving, she kissed both Billy, then you. Her long, lingering kiss made you wish for just a few more hours but she had to go.
The door closed behind her and Billy let out a slow exhale.
"Do you want me to go?" He asked.
"No," you said, a little too quickly and entirely too desperately.
You tried to hide your face in the pillow, but Billy moved over you, caging you in. He urged you to turn your head, and you did. The look on his face, the urgent need in his eyes stole your breath.
Despite the last two hours, you felt his cock, hard and ready against your thigh.
"Again?" You joked, already feeling breathless.
"If we've only got one night, I want to make the most of it."
"Haven't we already done that?" You joked.
"Are you saying you don't want to fuck me again?"
"No," you answered, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.
It felt different — better — knowing his full attention was on you. As he fucked you again, he let his hands and lips explore your body, and you did the same. As the tempo slowly increased and he pushed you to the boundaries of pleasure, you clawed at his back, scoring his skin with your nails. Billy fucked you harder, faster spurring you on, clearly enjoying the marks you were leaving on his skin.
It didn't last. It couldn't. Not when it was so perfect and every fibre of your being seemed in tune with his. You moaned his name as you came, and swallowed down his own gasp of surprise as he followed after.
Boneless and exhausted, you were pulled against his chest, and you fell asleep in his arms.
You were woken by an alarm on his phone. Sunlight was already creeping beneath the curtains and you realised it was morning. Your night with him was over.
But neither of you seemed inclined to move. Even though it had been his alarm that woke you, Billy didn't try to slip out of your bed. If anything, he held you closer.
"Do you have to go?" You finally asked, daring to lift your head.
"Not yet. I've still got time."
You shifted closer, moving to rest your head on his shoulder so you could see his face, wanting to commit every little detail to memory before he disappeared from your life.
It wasn't fair. You didn't want the moment to be over, you didn't want to lose the connection that you'd found with him, but there was nothing you could do about it. You hadn't been lying when you'd told him how busy you were going to be with work and travel over the next few months, and a man like Billy was hardly going to wait for you, just so you could see if something more might happen.
"Are you sure you don't want to meet up back in New York sometime?" He asked as if reading your mind. "I know plenty of open minded bartenders who'd love to —"
You cut him off with a kiss, pressing your lips to his with a desperation you hadn't wanted to share with him. You knew it wouldn't work between you, that there was no point asking him to wait, but the fact that he was at least pretending made you want to pretend just a little while longer.
It wasn't long before you were on your back, the increasingly familiar feeling of his fingers inside you pulling a string of moans from your lips. He touched you like he already knew you, like he was intimately familiar with every single inch of your body after only one night, and it only took a couple of minutes to have you falling apart, gasping his name against his lips.
Your hand reached down to grasp his cock, and you weren't the least bit surprised to find him already hard. You stroked him while he reached for the condom box on the night stand and —
"Fuck," he grumbled, "we're out of condoms..."
You continued to run your hand up and down his cock. "It's okay, I'm on the pill..."
It wasn't an offer you usually made but you couldn't stomach the thought of not having one last time. Billy didn't pause to think about it, and neither did you.
He sank back into your kiss and fucked you until you were both left panting again. As you pressed your face to his chest, lost in the afterglow, you found tears welling in your eyes. It was just your luck to find someone like him at such an awkward time in your life.
Neither of you moved, even though your time was running out — you both had to check out of your rooms by 10am, and you were certain you'd already missed breakfast.
Finally, "I should go."
You blinked, telling yourself that you were being silly for wanting it to be any more than it had already been, and nodded. "Right."
He kept his arms around you for a moment more and you dared to hope it was because he didn't want the moment to be over either. But then he let go and slowly slid out of bed.
You inhaled sharply at the scratches you'd left down his back, but Billy just smiled at you. "Something to remember you by."
"Maybe —" you started without pausing to think, "— maybe we'll run into each other again, when I'm back in the city..."
"Yeah, maybe." He didn't sound like he believed it, and you couldn't blame him.
No, it would be months before you were back in New York, and a man like Billy wouldn't stay single for that long.
He dressed and left you staring at the ceiling, wishing a thousand stupid wishes that would never come true. In the cold light of day, faced with the changes that were about to come, you felt the familiar nauseousness that had been plaguing you over the last few weeks, and decided to skip eating before heading home.
Ten Months Later.
It was cold and dreary, the sort of day guaranteed to put Billy in a bad mood.
There had been an incident during a training exercise, a contract had fallen through and, perhaps worst of all, his date for the evening had cancelled on him. If anyone had asked him, Billy might have remarked that his day couldn't get any worse, but then he was handed an envelope by his building's doorman, and his entire existence was turned upside down.
He stared blankly at the photograph; two babies, so young they had to be almost newborn. On the back there was a note.
I didn't know how to tell you, but I thought you deserved to know that I left the Hamptons with more than just memories...
It would have been a lie to say he hadn't thought about that night at least a dozen times in the months since it happened, but he'd given up hope of ever seeing you again. And this... this was something he'd never expected.
His phone was in his hand before he could even think about it, calling Anvil.
"I need someone found. Right now," he barked at his best analyst. "I'm going to text you the details. Send me the address when you find it, then wipe the search from the system." Then he hung up.
It took less than ten minutes for the message to come through; an address in Brooklyn. Five minutes after that, he was in his car.
He was going to find you, and you were going to explain what the fuck was going on.
A/N : This idea has been in my head for a little while, it's probably only going to be a short thing, but hopefully you'll enjoy it! I've tagged the people who asked to be tagged in Billy things!
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will hopefully be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.
Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18
So, I've decided that (for now at least) I've finished Need vs Want. I like the ending too much to try and carry on and potentially ruin that sweet moment. At some point I will definitely finish the scenes I didn't get to put in, either as a second part mini-series, or just as bonus chapters.
However, this means that tomorrow, I'll be posting something completely new! I know I said I'd bring back the poll (and I will after this one, I promise), but I've had an idea since smutober that's been stuck in my head, so keep your eyes peeled for a new Billy adventure starting tomorrow evening!!!
Plot Summary : Billy Russo is tired of playing the dating game, so he decides to try and find his perfect match online with a very specific ad. When you respond, it quickly becomes clear that you're everything he wants, but is he what you need?
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Chapter List : CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE
