sorry again…sub!billie ;3
Warning: fingering, doggy style, sub!billie, dom!reader, dry humping
The parking garage beneath Y/N's building smelled like exhaust and wet concrete, and she sat behind the wheel for a full minute after killing the engine, just breathing, just trying to unclench her jaw before it locked up entirely. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed in that particular way that made her want to put her fist through something. She'd had that same buzzing sound in her skull since two in the afternoon, since Marissa from accounts had leaned over her shoulder for the third time that day, close enough that her perfume clung to the collar of Y/N's shirt, murmuring something about how she just loved the way Y/N handled pressure, how impressive it was, how they should really get drinks sometime to celebrate the quarter.
Y/N had said no. She'd said no on Tuesday too, and the week before that, phrased a dozen different polite ways that all meant the same thing: leave me alone, I have a girlfriend, I am not interested, stop touching my desk when you talk to me. None of it landed. Marissa just smiled that glossy, unbothered smile and found a new excuse to hover, and today, on top of everything else, on top of the report her team lead had botched and blamed on her, on top of the client call where she'd had to smooth over someone else's mistake with her own name attached to the apology, it had all curdled into something that sat behind her eyes like a held breath she couldn't release.
She dragged her hand down her face and grabbed her bag off the passenger seat. The elevator ride up was silent except for the hum of cables, and she watched the floor numbers climb, arms crossed over her chest, her blazer still stiff with the memory of a day she wanted to peel off her skin. By the time the doors opened onto her floor, her head was pounding at the temples, a low, insistent throb that promised to get worse before it got better.
She fished her keys out of her bag and let herself into the apartment without much ceremony, the door swinging shut behind her with its familiar, heavy click. She didn't turn on the hallway light. She didn't need to. The apartment already glowed faintly gold from somewhere deeper inside, and soft music drifted out to meet her, something slow and warm that under different circumstances might have unwound the knot sitting between her shoulder blades.
Under these circumstances, it barely registered.
She dropped her keys onto the entryway table with more force than necessary, the metallic clatter loud in the quiet, and toed off her shoes without bothering to line them up the way Billie always asked her to. Her mind was still back in that conference room, still replaying the exact tone Marissa had used, still hearing her own voice trying to stay professional when what she wanted to do was tell the woman exactly where to put her invitation for drinks. She rubbed at her temple, exhaling hard through her nose, and moved farther into the apartment on autopilot, already unbuttoning the top button of her blouse just to breathe easier.
That was when she saw her.
Billie stood in the middle of the living room, framed by the low golden light of the lamps she'd clearly spent the better part of the afternoon arranging just right. She'd pulled the curtains halfway, letting in the last blue traces of evening to mix with the warmth of the bulbs, and candles flickered along the windowsill, their scent something soft and vanilla-sweet threading through the air. The music Y/N had heard in the hallway was coming from the little speaker on the bookshelf, something with a slow bassline and a voice that curled around the room like smoke.
And Billie herself.
She wore a babydoll of sheer white silk that fell just past her hips, so thin and translucent it did nothing to hide the shape of her, the curve of her thick thighs, the swell of her breasts, the dark, prominent points of her nipples visible through the fabric with every small shift of her weight. The hem brushed the tops of her thighs when she moved, and underneath, there was nothing but skin. She'd curled her brunette hair into loose waves that framed her face, and her cheeks were already pink, not from makeup, but from nerves, from standing there for the better part of an hour waiting for the sound of the front door.
She looked, in that moment, like something out of a dream Y/N might have had on a better day. A softer day. A day that wasn't today.
"Hi, baby," Billie said, her voice hopeful and a little breathless, taking a small step forward, her bare feet silent on the hardwood. "I made your favorite candles, and I put on that playlist you like, the one from—"
Y/N didn't hear the rest of it.
She should have. She knew, somewhere underneath the throb behind her eyes, that Billie had spent hours on this, that the candles and the music and the delicate, deliberate way the silk clung to her body were all for her, all a gift wrapped in nerve and hope. But the sight of Billie standing there, glowing and soft and open, only made the pressure in her skull spike harder, because all she could think about was another woman leaning too close over her shoulder, another set of eyes on her that she hadn't asked for, and something about the vulnerability of it, the exposed intimacy of Billie's body on display, tangled itself up in her mind with everything she'd spent all day trying to shut down.
It wasn't fair. She knew it wasn't fair even as it happened, the way her face closed off, the way her jaw tightened instead of softened, but the knowledge arrived a half-second too late to stop what came next.
She walked past Billie without a word, without so much as a glance at the effort laid out in front of her, and yanked her blazer off her shoulders in one sharp motion, tossing it onto the arm of the sofa where it slid half onto the cushion and half onto the floor. Her boots hit the floor near the coffee table with two dull thuds as she kicked them off, and she dropped onto the couch with a low grunt, elbows on her knees, head bowed, fingers pressing hard into the base of her skull where the tension lived.
Behind her, she heard Billie's soft, uncertain steps follow.
"Y/N?" Billie's voice had gone smaller, the confidence from a moment ago already draining out of it. "Are you okay? You look like you had a really bad day."
"I'm fine," Y/N said, flat, not looking up.
She wasn't fine. She knew she wasn't fine. But the word came out anyway, clipped and final, a door closing.
Billie didn't take the hint, because Billie never took the hint when it mattered most, not because she was slow but because she loved too hard to let a closed door stay closed. She crossed the last few feet of space and lowered herself onto the couch beside Y/N, close, her thigh pressing warm against Y/N's, her small hand landing tentatively on Y/N's forearm.
"You don't seem fine," Billie murmured, and there was that softness in her voice, that particular gentleness she used when she was trying to coax Y/N out of a bad mood, the same tone she used when talking to a stray cat that might bolt if she moved too fast. "I made dinner too, it's staying warm in the oven, I thought maybe we could just... turn everything off tonight. Just us. I wanted tonight to be good for you."
Y/N's jaw ticked. The headache behind her eyes throbbed once, hard, like something knocking to get out.
"Not right now, Billie."
"Okay," Billie said quickly, but her hand didn't leave Y/N's arm. Instead her fingers curled slightly, stroking, and she leaned her head against Y/N's shoulder, her hair brushing against Y/N's jaw, the faint scent of her shampoo cutting through the vanilla candle smoke. "We don't have to talk about it. I just wanted to be close to you. I missed you all day."
"Billie."
"I know, I know, I'll be quiet," Billie said, and she pressed a small kiss to the side of Y/N's neck, her lips warm, lingering a second too long, her free hand drifting to rest over Y/N's chest. "I just want you to feel it. That I'm here. That I missed you."
Something in Y/N's chest pulled tight, a wire wound past its limit.
She could feel Billie's breath against her throat, could feel the softness of her body pressed in close, could feel every bit of the care that had gone into tonight radiating off her like heat, and none of it reached her. It was like trying to warm herself by a fire from the other side of a glass wall. She wanted to want this. She wanted to turn her head and kiss Billie the way Billie clearly wanted to be kissed, wanted to let herself sink into the warm gold light and the candle smoke and the girl who'd spent her whole afternoon trying to make their apartment feel like a soft place to land. But the day was still sitting on her chest like a stone, and Billie's hand kept moving, kept asking, kept needing something Y/N didn't have left to give.
"Baby," Billie whispered again, shifting so she could look up at her, her blue eyes wide and searching, hurt already creeping in at the edges because she could feel the wall, she always could, "talk to me. Please. What happened today?"
"Nothing happened," Y/N snapped, pulling her arm free of Billie's grip harder than she meant to. "Nothing you need to worry about."
"I want to worry about it, that's kind of the whole—"
"I said I'm fine." Y/N's voice cracked through the room like a slap, louder than she'd intended, sharp enough that Billie flinched back an inch. "Can you just, for one second, not touch me? Can you give me one goddamn second to breathe before you're all over me again?"
The words hung there, ugly and final.
Billie went very still.
Her hand had frozen midair, half-reaching toward Y/N's knee, and she pulled it back slowly, tucking it against her own stomach like it had been burned. The hurt on her face wasn't dramatic, wasn't performed. It was quiet and immediate, the kind of hurt that came from somewhere old, somewhere that had learned a long time ago what it meant to be too much, and Y/N watched it happen in real time, watched the light that had been in Billie's eyes since the moment she'd stepped through the door go out like someone had reached over and switched it off.
"I'm sorry," Billie said, and her voice had gone thin, wobbling. "I just wanted—"
"I know what you wanted," Y/N said, still too sharp, still riding the tail end of a temper that had nowhere else to go. "I get it, Billie. But I can't do this right now. I can't be your, your project, or your, whatever this is." She gestured vaguely at the candles, at the silk, at all of it, and immediately hated herself for the gesture even as her mouth kept moving. "I just need you to leave me the hell alone for five minutes."
Billie's chin trembled.
She stood up fast, like she needed distance more than she needed dignity, and the movement made the hem of the babydoll flutter around her thighs, and for one terrible second Y/N saw exactly how it looked from the outside: a woman who had put her whole tender heart on display, sheer and unguarded, standing in front of someone who had just told her to get away.
"Okay," Billie said, so quiet it barely carried. "Okay. I'm sorry."
She turned toward the hallway, arms wrapping around herself, shoulders curling inward the way they always did when she was trying to hold herself together, and Y/N heard the small, broken sound that escaped her before she'd even made it three steps. A sob, sharp and involuntary, the kind that came from somewhere deep and old, and then another, and Billie's whole small frame started to shake with it, her hand flying up to cover her mouth like she could stuff the sound back inside if she just pressed hard enough.
The sight of it hit Y/N like cold water.
All at once the fog of her own anger cleared, and what was left underneath it was worse: the plain, undeniable fact that she'd taken every ugly thing that had happened to her today and thrown it at the one person who had done nothing but try to love her. Billie hadn't botched a report. Billie hadn't leaned too close over her shoulder uninvited. Billie had spent her afternoon lighting candles and picking a playlist and putting on something sheer and beautiful because she wanted, more than anything, to be the soft place Y/N came home to. And Y/N had told her to get away.
"Billie." Her own voice sounded strange to her now, rough around the edges. "Billie, wait."
Billie didn't stop. She kept walking, one hand still pressed over her mouth, tears streaking fast down her cheeks, and Y/N was up off the couch before she'd fully decided to move, crossing the room in three long strides and catching Billie's wrist just before she reached the hallway.
"Hey. Hey, look at me."
"You told me to leave you alone," Billie said, and the words came out wet and broken between hitching breaths, refusing to turn around, her back rigid under the thin silk. "So I'm leaving you alone."
"I didn't mean it like that." Y/N's hand tightened gently on her wrist, not pulling, just holding, an anchor. "I didn't mean it, Billie, I swear to God. I had a shit day and I took it out on you and that wasn't fair, none of that was about you."
"It felt like it was about me." Billie finally turned, and her face was a mess, mascara she hadn't even bothered wearing tonight replaced by nothing but raw, blotchy skin and swollen eyes, her lower lip trembling as she tried and failed to steady her breathing. "I just wanted to make you feel good. I spent all day on this and you didn't even look at me, and then you yelled, and I don't, I don't know what I did wrong."
"You didn't do anything wrong." Y/N's own throat tightened, guilt sitting thick and sour where the anger had been a minute before. "Baby, you didn't do a single thing wrong. This is all me. I'm an asshole, I'm sorry."
"I just wanted tonight to be nice," Billie said, and the sob that followed shook her whole body, her arms still wrapped tight around herself as if she could hold the pieces together by force. "I wanted you to come home and feel like someone was happy to see you, because you've been so stressed and so tired, and I thought, I don't know, I thought if I made it nice enough you'd forget about all of it for a little while."
Y/N pulled her in before she'd finished the sentence, wrapping both arms around her and drawing her flush against her chest, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Billie's head, fingers threading gently into her hair. Billie resisted for half a second, stiff with hurt, and then collapsed into it entirely, her face pressing into the curve of Y/N's neck, her tears hot against the skin there, her whole body shuddering with the force of everything she'd been holding in since the front door hadn't gone the way she'd hoped.
"I'm sorry," Y/N murmured into her hair, over and over, low and rough. "I'm so sorry, baby. You did everything right. You did everything right and I ruined it because I couldn't get my own head out of my ass long enough to see it."
"I just want you to be okay," Billie hiccupped against her throat.
"I know." Y/N's hand slid down the curve of her spine, tracing the delicate line of the tattoo etched there through the thin silk, feeling the tremor still running through her. "I know, baby. Come here."
She tipped Billie's chin up with two fingers, gentle now where a minute ago her voice had been anything but, and looked at her properly for the first time since she'd walked through the door. Really looked. At the tear tracks cutting through her flushed cheeks, at the swollen softness of her mouth, at the way the sheer white silk had slipped slightly off one shoulder in the scramble of being pulled close, baring more of her skin, the dark ink of the word beneath her breast just visible where the fabric gaped. She looked, despite the tears, despite the hurt Y/N herself had caused, unbearably beautiful, and something in Y/N's chest turned over hard.
"Look at you," she said quietly, thumb brushing under Billie's eye to catch a tear before it fell. "You got all dressed up for me and I didn't even tell you how pretty you look."
Billie let out a small, wet laugh that was half a sob. "I don't feel pretty right now."
"You are, though." Y/N's voice dropped lower, steadier, the softness that lived underneath all her sharp edges finally surfacing. "You're the prettiest thing I've ever come home to, and I was too far in my own head to see it. That's on me. Not you."
Billie sniffled, searching Y/N's face like she was trying to decide whether to believe it, and Y/N answered the question before she had to ask it, leaning down to press her mouth to Billie's, slow and deliberate, tasting salt from her tears. Billie made a small sound against her lips, somewhere between relief and disbelief, and kissed her back tentatively at first, then with more certainty as Y/N's hand slid to the small of her back and pulled her flush against her.
"I want to make it up to you," Y/N said against her mouth, "if you'll let me."
"You don't have to," Billie whispered, even as her fingers curled into the front of Y/N's blouse, holding on.
"I know I don't have to." Y/N pulled back just enough to look at her, thumb tracing along her jaw. "I want to."
She kissed her again, deeper this time, and felt the moment Billie melted into it, felt the tension of the last ten minutes bleed out of her shoulders as she leaned her whole weight forward, trusting Y/N to hold her up. Y/N did. One arm banded tight around Billie's waist, holding her steady, while her other hand slid down over the curve of her hip, feeling the silk bunch and slip under her palm, feeling the heat of Billie's skin radiating through the thin fabric.
She walked them backward, slow, until Billie's shoulders met the wall beside the hallway, and pinned her there gently, mouth trailing from Billie's lips to her jaw, to the sensitive spot just below her ear that always made her breath hitch.
"Y/N," Billie breathed, her hands coming up to grip Y/N's shoulders.
"I've got you," Y/N murmured against her throat. "Let me take care of you."
She dropped one hand to Billie's thigh, sliding it up under the hem of the babydoll, feeling the soft give of her skin, and hooked it behind her knee, pulling her leg up and over her own thigh so that Billie's weight settled forward, her center pressing snug against the muscle of Y/N's leg where it slotted between hers. Billie gasped softly at the sudden pressure, her fingers tightening on Y/N's shoulders, and Y/N held her there, steady, giving her a second to adjust before she rolled her hip forward, dragging her thigh in a slow, firm motion against her.
"Oh," Billie breathed, her head tipping back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut.
"That's it," Y/N said, low, watching her face carefully, tracking every flicker of expression. "Just feel it, baby. I've got you."
She kept the rhythm slow at first, deliberate, her thigh flexing beneath Billie with each roll of her hips, and Billie's breath started to come faster, small sounds slipping out of her that she tried and failed to swallow. Her hands slid from Y/N's shoulders up into her hair, tugging lightly whenever Y/N ground her thigh a little harder, a little deeper, the friction building steadily under the thin barrier of silk that was doing nothing to hide how wet she already was.
"You feel that?" Y/N asked against her ear, her voice rough now, the last of her headache dissolving into something else entirely, something hungrier. "You feel how bad you want this?"
"Yes," Billie whimpered, hips starting to rock on their own, seeking more of the pressure, more of the friction. "Please, don't stop."
"Not stopping." Y/N's grip on her thigh tightened, holding her in place as she picked up the pace, her own thigh working against Billie in firm, unbroken motion. "Not going anywhere, baby. I'm right here."
Billie's head fell forward onto Y/N's shoulder, her breath hot and ragged against her collarbone, small cries slipping loose with every roll of her hips, her fingers fisting in the back of Y/N's blouse like she needed something to hold onto. The silk of the babydoll had ridden up entirely now, bunched at her waist, and Y/N could feel just how soaked she was through the thin fabric, could feel the heat of her pressed against her thigh with every movement.
"That's my girl," Y/N murmured, and the praise alone seemed to wind Billie tighter, her body trembling, her rhythm growing more desperate, less controlled. "You gonna come just like this?"
"I don't, I don't know, it feels so good," Billie gasped, her nails scraping lightly down Y/N's back through the fabric of her blouse.
"You will." Y/N's voice was steady, certain, threading through the haze Billie was quickly sinking into. "I've got you. Let go."
She rolled her thigh harder, deliberate, chasing the exact rhythm she knew from a year of learning every response Billie's body had to give, and felt the shift the second it happened, felt Billie's whole frame go taut, her breath catching hard in her throat before breaking apart into a long, shaking moan as her release rolled through her, hips still grinding shallow and desperate against Y/N's thigh as she rode it out.
Y/N held her through it, one hand splayed flat against her lower back, the other cradling the back of her head, murmuring soft, low things against her temple until the trembling started to ease, until Billie's breathing began to slow from ragged gasps into something closer to shaky exhales.
"There she is," Y/N said quietly, kissing her temple. "You okay?"
"Mm-hm," Billie managed, still boneless against her, cheeks flushed a deep pink, eyes glassy in a way that had nothing to do with tears anymore.
"I'm not done apologizing," Y/N murmured against her ear, and felt Billie shiver at the promise buried in her tone. "Bedroom. Now."
Billie didn't argue. She let Y/N guide her down the hallway, one hand splayed low on her back, steering her past the framed photos and the little bookshelf they'd built together, and by the time they reached the bedroom, Billie had already tugged the thin straps of the babydoll off her shoulders, letting the sheer silk pool at her waist, baring her fully to the low light spilling in from the hall.
Y/N stopped in the doorway just to look at her.
Billie stood there, chest still rising and falling unevenly, her breasts bare now, nipples still hard from before, the fabric of the babydoll caught at her hips like an afterthought, and the sight of her, undone and trusting and still faintly tear-stained, hit Y/N somewhere low and deep.
"Get on the bed," Y/N said, voice quiet but with no room for anything but compliance.
Billie obeyed, climbing onto the mattress and letting the last of the babydoll slip off entirely, leaving her bare against the sheets. Y/N crossed the room and pulled open the drawer of the nightstand, retrieving the harness they kept there, and Billie watched her from the bed, propped up on her elbows, her chest still heaving slightly, her eyes tracking every movement as Y/N stepped out of her slacks and pulled the straps of the harness up over her hips, adjusting the length that sat between her thighs.
"Turn over for me," Y/N said, low, once she'd settled the fit against her body. "On your knees. I want to look at you while I take care of you."
Billie flushed but did as she was told, turning over and settling onto her hands and knees, her back arching slightly, her hips tilting up in silent invitation. Y/N knelt behind her on the bed, running one hand up the curve of her spine, tracing the delicate tattoo there with her fingertips before letting her palm settle at the small of Billie's back.
"You're already so wet," Y/N murmured, sliding two fingers through her slowly, feeling how ready she still was from before, and Billie's breath hitched, her hips pressing back into the touch. "That's from before, huh? From my thigh?"
"Yes," Billie breathed, voice still a little wrecked. "Yes, please, Y/N."
"Please what, baby?" Y/N leaned down over her, pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades, fingers still working slow, unhurried circles that had Billie's hips rocking back for more. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you," Billie whimpered, fisting the sheets beneath her. "I want to feel you, please, I need it."
Y/N pulled her fingers back, drawing a small, needy sound out of Billie at the loss, and lined herself up instead, one hand steadying at Billie's hip, the other guiding the length of the strap slowly forward, letting the head of it drag through her wetness first before pressing in, giving her time, watching her face over her shoulder for any sign of too much, too fast.
Billie's mouth fell open on a soundless gasp as Y/N sank in inch by inch, her body stretching to accommodate, her back arching further, pushing back to meet her.
"There you go," Y/N said, voice rough with restraint, her hand tightening on Billie's hip once she'd bottomed out, giving her a moment to adjust before she started to move. "You okay?"
"Yes," Billie gasped, "God, yes, please move."
Y/N obliged, drawing back slow before rocking forward again, setting an unhurried but deep rhythm, her hips meeting Billie's with a steady, deliberate pace that had Billie moaning openly into the mattress, her fingers twisting in the sheets. Y/N kept one hand firm on her hip, guiding her, while the other slid up her spine to tangle in her hair, not pulling, just holding, a point of contact that grounded them both.
"This what you needed?" Y/N asked, voice low against the shell of Billie's ear as she leaned forward over her, the angle deepening, drawing a sharper cry out of Billie with each thrust. "You needed me to show you I'm sorry?"
"Yes," Billie sobbed, and this time the sound was different from before, still raw but no longer sad, something being wrung out of her that had nothing to do with hurt and everything to do with release. "I needed you, I just needed you."
"I'm here," Y/N said, picking up her pace, her own breath growing uneven with the effort, the base of the strap dragging against her with every roll of her hips. "I'm not going anywhere. I've got you, baby, I've got you."
She reached around, sliding her hand down over Billie's stomach, lower, finding her clit slick and swollen and circling it in time with her thrusts, and felt Billie's whole body clench and shudder beneath her, her cries growing higher, more broken, her hips pushing back to meet Y/N's rhythm with less coordination and more desperate need.
"That's it," Y/N murmured, voice fraying at the edges. "Let go for me again. I want to feel you."
Billie came with a cry muffled into the pillow, her whole body seizing around the strap, her thighs trembling, and Y/N slowed but didn't stop, working her through it with gentle, shallow strokes until the last of the tremors faded and Billie collapsed forward onto the mattress, chest heaving, tears mixing with sweat at her temples.
Y/N eased out carefully and lay down beside her, pulling her in close, one arm draped protectively over her waist, Billie's back tucked against her front, her face turned to press into the pillow.
"Hey," Y/N said softly after a moment, brushing damp hair back from Billie's face. "You with me?"
"Mm-hm," Billie mumbled, turning her head enough to look at her, eyes still glassy but clear now, softer. "That was a lot."
"Good lot or bad lot?"
"Good lot," Billie said, a small, tired smile finally breaking through. "Really good lot."
Y/N pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there. "I really am sorry. For earlier. For all of it."
"I know," Billie said quietly, shifting so she could tuck her face into the curve of Y/N's neck. "I know it wasn't really about me."
"It wasn't." Y/N's arm tightened around her. "It's never about you. You're the best part of my day, every day, even the ones I don't act like it."
Billie was quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing idle patterns over Y/N's stomach. "Tell me about your day. The real version. Not the fine version."
Y/N let out a long breath, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the last of the day's tension finally, fully drain out of her body. "Yeah," she said. "Okay. I'll tell you."
And for the first time since she'd walked through the door, the weight in her chest felt light enough to set down.