follow up to this! part 1 - After rescuing you and the others from the Freedom Camp, Butcher needs you right back in his arms where you belong. When the two of you hear the others "reuniting" Butcher is determined to out do them. This is the morning after (with Terror cameos!)
A soft knock on the classroom door roused you from a deep, peaceful sleep. The blissful, healing kind you hadn’t had in more than a year. So even though you heard it, you couldn’t be bothered to move. The fact that the doors had windows and whoever was knocking could see right in didn’t feel like a concern either. After last night, surely they all knew now anyway.
At first, Billy ignored the knock as well, barely shifting at the noise. But when the knock came again, he grumbled, low and rough like an irritated jungle cat. You felt Terror wriggle as well, lifting his head to see who was about to visit him. Though you were laying across Butcher’s chest, Terror had some how managed to squirm his way between yours and Billy’s legs, cuddled up in a warm nest of blankets and warmth between you.
But that knock came again to disrupt it all. You felt Billy move beneath you, then came the inevitable - “Oi. Wha’ the bleedin’ ‘ell do ya want?”
“Hey, you two. Sleep well?”
The door opening and Hughie’s cheery voice seemed to slice right through the comfy peace.
“Ah quite ace until you barged in, just now,” Butcher grumbled. “At least we did after ya stopped makin’ all that racket las’ night.”
“Us?” Hughie snorted. You could just picture him in your mind’s eye crossing his arms with that look of incredulity. “You two were way louder.”
You could feel that smug, pleased smirk Billy was probably giving Hughie right now.
“To bloody right we were, an’ don’t ya forget it, son.”
A soft laugh bubbled up from you and Billy tightened his arm around your shoulders. You finally blinked your eyes open as Terror got up and started trying to climb over Billy’s large body. Hughie was standing in the doorway, looking just as you pictured.
“Now wha’ did you bloody come in ‘ere for?” Billy harped even as he lifted his hand to rub Terror’s scruff with affection. He lifted Terror’s pudgy little body and helped him off the low bed.
“Ahh - “ Hughie watched the domestic scene with a look of something like shocked bewilderment and it made you laugh softly again.
“Frenchie made breakfast…waffles and bacon and everything,” Hughie shifted his gaze to you then, his expression softening. “I know that was something you were…looking forward to - when we, ah, broke out of the camp.”
That deserved at least the effort of a little attention. You shifted so you could see him better but you were too comfy to peel yourself off Butcher’s warm chest, You let a warm smile light your face. “Thanks, Hughie. That’s really nice. We’ll be there in a little bit. I don’t mind warming it back up.”
By that point, Terror had trotted across the room and he wiggled and barked at Hughie by the door, looking up at him expectantly.
“Oi, steady on boy, I’ll take ya out in a mo’.” You could feel the vibration of Billy’s rumble from his chest.
“I’ll take him,” Hughie offered. “I’m cool with it.”
“Aye,” Butcher relented. “Much appreciated. Make sure the little bugger don’t get in ta anything.”
“Will do,” Hughie answered and then they were gone, shutting the door once more.
Billy shifted then, tugging you closer and you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his hazel in the soft morning light.
For a man who always had a quip or a crude joke ready, words suddenly seemed to feel very unnecessary when you were together like this.
His gaze dropped to your lips, just for a second, before flicking back up to your eyes and his fingers pressed just a little harder into your skin as if he couldn't help it.
The silence settled between you until finally, with a pleased smirk, he leaned in and closed the gap.
You moaned gratefully when his mouth met yours, and Butcher groaned, deep and guttural, as rolled over to pin you against the mattress.
His tongue slid against yours demanding and sultry, and he yanked you impossibly closer while his other tangled in your hair, gripping hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth.
Butcher kissed like he fought: relentless, dominant, all-consuming. Every nip of teeth, every swipe of his tongue was a claim, like he could brand the taste of himself onto your lips if he just took enough.
Your hand slid to the nape of his neck and you threaded your fingers into his hair. Heat spread through you like wildfire and you and you tried to kick the blankets away. You only wanted to feel him.
He noticed you kicking, felt the sudden movement of your hips, and that was enough.
The blankets hit the floor in a tangled pile as he slid over you, caging you against the sheets. His body was a solid wall of muscle pressing you into the mattress, hard and warm and everywhere all at once.
“Should we see if we can do better, luv?” Butcher grinned mischievously.
He didn’t give you a chance to respond as he shifted his mouth down to your jaw, your neck, the curve of your collarbone, nipping, leaving marks he knew damn well would be visible to everyone.
When he slotted one knee between your thighs, you pulled him closer, a breathy, wanton sigh escaping.
His hands roamed everywhere, rough and hungry, claiming every inch like he was trying to memorize you with touch alone after too much time without your skin beneath his hands.
“Billy…” you moaned his name, writhing beneath his weight as he made your body come alive for him.
The sound of his name on your lips was damn near intoxicating. He groaned against your skin, hands tracing a rough trail down your body.
Every little sound you made was like gasoline on a fire: the quiet moans, the way your hips arched into his, the breathless pleading of his name. It pushed him further, deeper into the need to touch you, taste you, take you.
He lifted his head just enough to look down at you, breathless and wild.
His name on your lips, again, raw and just for him, had his grip tightening on your hip, his fingers digging in deep enough to leave bruises.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” he groaned, the words barely discernible. His teeth grazed your earlobe as he tugged, sharp and claiming, before his mouth crashed back down on yours.
The kiss was filthy, all tongue and teeth, and when he finally pulled back for air, he was breathing just as hard as you were.
“Can’t get enough of that sound, luv.”
You shivered at his rough voice, sliding your fingers through his hair as you met his gaze again.
His hand found your bare thighs, rough and hot against your skin. That soft gasp from your lips was all the invitation he needed and his fingers squeezed just enough.
"Perfect," he growled, mouth against your neck. "God, you're perfect, love."
His hand slid up to cup your breast and his thumb dragged over your nipple in slow, deliberate circles, just enough pressure to make your back arch, just enough friction to steal your breath.
Then his lips were there, hot and wet against your ear, voice raw with honesty.
“Fuckin’ missed you so much thought I were gonna lose me mind.”
A nip of teeth. Another rough stroke of his thumb.
"Every curve, every sound, every inch of this body, fuck." His voice dropped to pure gravel.
"Know what you do to me?"
A low, dangerous noise tore from his throat at your words, half growl, half groan, before his hand slid down your body with purpose.
His fingers trailed over your stomach, your hip, finally, finally, dipping between your thighs to find you already soaked for him.
"Like that?" he rasped, pressing one thick finger against your entrance, not pushing in yet, just teasing, just letting you feel it.
His calloused thumb circled your clit, slow, torturous, as his teeth sank into the soft skin of your neck.
A desperate cry left your throat before you could control it, your body rocking into his hand as pleasure flooded through you.
That cry, fuck, that sound, had his cock throbbing. He swallowed it with a kiss, as he finally slipped one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.
"Fuck," he muttered against your lips when you clenched around him.
His thumb kept working your clit in rough circles while the other hand braced beside your head, boxing you in completely, trapped under him and loving it.
“Billy…fuck…” you moaned, already close. His hands were fucking magic, but now you wanted his cock. “Billy…need you…”
His name on your lips like a prayer, begging for him, was the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever heard. "Got you," he growled, adding a second finger, stretching you as his thumb pressed harder on your clit, making you clench around him.
He kissed down your throat, biting at the column of it. "Come for me first, pet. Wanna watch."
A needy whimper turned into a desperate cry that seemed to echo in the room. Even his low rough voice gave you pleasure. Tightening you fingers in his hair, you arched your back, spreading your thighs further apart, just wanting more of him.
He felt the shift in your body like a live wire, and your thighs spreading wider for him… He took it as an invitation.
He doubled down; his fingers pistoned harder inside you, curling just right on every thrust while his thumb rubbed rough circles over your swollen clit. His mouth latched onto the exposed column of your throat, sucking hard enough to bruise.
"Right there," he rasped against damp skin, feeling you tighten around him.
It only took another moment before you were coming hard, crying out, moaning, nearly sobbing. Your body clamped down tight, pulsing and trembling and the second you clenched around his fingers, Butcher lost it.
A feral sound ripped from his chest as he rode out your orgasm with relentless strokes, drawing every last tremor and whimper from you with insistent strokes.
"Bloody gorgeous," he muttered through gritted teeth before finally slowing to gentle pumps as the waves subsided. His lips found yours again in a searing kiss, messy and hungry, tasting the salt of your tears on your cheeks.
You pressed your thighs together as overstimulation took you for a moment and your body was still trembling and you clung to him. “I haven’t come that hard in a long time,” you mumbled, still trying to catch your breath.
Billy chuckled, low and smug, but warm as he admired your flushed skin, and savored the way you clung to him like a lifeline.
"Good," he murmured against your temple, pressing a kiss there before he suddenly flipped you onto your tummy and his hand came down on your ass cheek with a crack - not too harsh, but just enough to sting.
“My turn,” he rumbled; all you could do was moan eagerly in reply.
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