Discover Top Posts Tagged with #billy washington

Jun 19

Honeybee

Summary: Billy is found completely taken off guard when a ghosted one night stand accosts him at the pub | Word Count: 4.5k~ | Warnings: fingering, inferred intercourse, handjob

The first day that the numbers hit double digits in the UK may as well have been a wildlife documentary.

Billy could basically hear it, the slow, posh drawl of Sir David Attenborough observing a pack of zealous lads, dressed in varying shades of the same Zara shorts. A group of girls blubbering gossip between each other like turkeys with a vape in one hand and a Sex on the Beach in the other. All the way down to the 60-odd year old regular who hated all this bollocks and just came for a quiet one like he does any other day, filling it with the illusion of a routine since being newly retired.

That's what he thought as he looked around the Bull's Head Pub. The weather had promised an incredible 18 degrees. In one corner, an underpaid bar staff member delivered a pitcher of Stella Artois to a rowdy group of barely legal lads. Through the doorway to the beer garden, smoke billowed around the glowing, tanned shoulders of the al-fresco types. Conversations and laughter carried by the scent of a barbeque a few doors down the road and the blare of some boy racer's Ford Fiesta churning out a tinny version of Vengaboys.

It was well and truly rammed. He'd half been tempted to invite someone out with him for a quick one, and soon, he would wish he had. Instead he'd chanced it on his own. The bar staff barely looked at him as she laid a pint in front of him, the foam spilled over the edge and soaking his forearm. The head was too thick, but Billy didn't care, or rather was too nervous to call it out. He tapped his card and ventured outside, greeted by the inviting wall of warmth, palming his back pocket for his pack of fags.

There was no chance in hell of getting a seat. With a quick sip to relieve the very brim of his pint glass, he found a standing spot close to the exit, and with a sense of relief, stuck the butt of his cigarette between his lips. The brief sense of ease was soon interrupted.

"Billy! Oh my god!"

He had never been good at schooling his expressions, his mum told him so when she told him how easy it was to tell when he was lying. He knew that voice, that excited, needy cadence he'd rather forget. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he could convince himself that no, this wasn't happening, he was in fact not in the Bull's Head about to open his eyes to a woman he ghosted after a one night stand.

But alas, his eyes opened to the side and there she was. Practically bouncing with excitement, eyes all wide and hopeful, like he'd come here to see her specifically.

Right now, he wished he was on the moon.

"Oh…hiya," he muttered, pulling the cigarette from his lips unlit to not seem impolite.

"Fancy seeing you here!" she beamed, "god, how long's it been."

Not long enough. "Oh, uh, dunno," he laughed awkwardly. His eyes couldn't stay still. He scanned the beer garden, almost begging for someone else he knew to save him. That's the thing about coming to the pub on your own at risk of seeing the crazy girl you snuck out on months ago. Nobody to be your saviour when she sinks her claws in.

"Must be, what, a few months?" she went on, not waiting for him to answer. "You look well."

"Yeah. Cheers," Billy said, scratching the back of his neck. He glanced down at his pint like it might suddenly offer him an exit strategy, "you an’ all."

Fuck, why did I say that, now she's gonna think—

"Didn’t think I’d ever bump into you again, if I’m honest," she rocked slightly on her heels, hands clasped behind her back like she was trying to look casual.

"Mm," he hummed, taking a sip just to have something to do with his mouth.

At the silence, he expected her to at least make an excuse, but she didn't leave.

"So… you here on your own, yeah?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Yeah. Just—quick one," he said quickly, already half turning his body away like that might end it. "Won’t be long. I'm actually just about to go—"

"You’ve got a full pint," she pointed out.

"Yeah I've just—got work dead early tomorrow morning—"

"I could keep you company if you want!" she offered, "my mates are inside anyway, they’re doing my head in."

She was edging closer to the empty spot beside him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"And, I mean," she went on, "after last time… feels a bit rude to just—"

Billy’s entire body tensed. "Yeah, let’s maybe not—"

"—you know," she continued anyway, smiling, "wake up and you’re just gone. Thought I’d scared you off or something."

"You didn’t—" he started, already flustered, running a hand over his face. "It weren’t like that, I just—"

"So I reckon you owe me at least one drink—"

"There you are."

A woman stood there, about his age, maybe even a year or two older, one hand resting lightly on the ledge beside him like she’d always belonged there. She gave him a small smile, then lifted herself to her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"You were meant to text me when you got here," she said, like it was an ongoing conversation. Like they knew each other, and had done all this time. He just hoped this car crash of an abandoned one night stand didn't see the shock in his eyes.

Billy blinked. "I—"

"Sorry," she said, turning to the other girl with a polite but pointed look, masked with a smile. "Didn’t realise he’d found someone to chat to."

The girl froze, hovering awkwardly. "Oh— I— sorry, I didn’t—"

"It’s alright," the woman said smoothly, her hand brushing against his arm like it was second nature. "He’s terrible for it. Wanders off, forgets he’s got a girlfriend waiting."

Billy stared at her, completely thrown, but she didn’t even look at him, just reached for his pint and took a casual sip. If he weren't so frozen, he'd have been offended. Pints aren't cheap these days.

The girl’s expression shifted, something like embarrassment flickering across her face. "Right. Yeah. I didn’t know."

An awkward silence dropped like a brick.

"Well," the girl said, straightening up quickly, "I’ll… leave you to it then."

"Cheers," Billy muttered automatically, still trying to catch up with what the hell was happening.

She gave him one last look, half annoyed and half sheepish, then turned and made a quick escape back inside. Billy watched her go for a second, then slowly turned his head towards the woman beside him.

"…what…the fuck?" he said.

She finally looked at him, raising an eyebrow, completely unfazed. "You’re welcome."

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Sorry, who are you?"

"Calm down," she said, taking another sip of his drink like she owned it. "You looked like you were about two seconds from jumping the fence."

"…I was considering it," he admitted.

"Yeah, well," she shrugged, nudging the pint back into his hand, "no need now, is there?"

He stood like a pillock, pint rapidly losing its bite in his hand with the condensation running over his knuckles. If he weren't so self aware in this moment his mouth would have been agape, catching flies. Was this a dream, he needed to pinch himself.

"Well, if the weather didn't cure my seasonal depression, that's done the job."

She hummed with a tilted, almost devious smile on her lips. Her head gestured loosely behind, "who was that, then? A failed conquest?"

"Something along those lines," he scoffed lightly.

"Wouldn't pin you for the type."

He drew his brows together, leaning sideways on so he could see her straight on. At this angle, the perfect, glowing orange line of the sun through the fence slid past the side of her face, down her neck.

"What type is that, then?"

Her eyes lit up like he'd taken the bait, "the type to run out on a girl before she's woken up."

Billy felt the small bead of sweat slide down his face from his temple, his lips parted to take in breath as if flustered suddenly by her. Her eyes traced the moist line it left behind on his face briefly, but no disgust passed her features, her eyes simply traced back to his blue ones, a faint lifting of her lips showing him she was delighted in how she made him feel.

"Drink?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, "reckon you owe me one, for saving you and all."

His heart fluttered, and a near-boyish smile threatened to break across his face. Something dipped in his stomach at the cheeky tone of her voice. Like they had known each other for ages.

Ten minutes later, after braving the bar a second time, a cocktail was placed into her hands and he watched her take a short, introductory sip. Conversation continued easily, despite Billy having seen the aforementioned one-night-stand slip away about half an hour ago. He had wanted to say that she didn't have to stay and talk to him anymore, that she didn't have to waste her breath talking to a guy like him. She'd done her good deed. But the more they spoke, and every now and then, when he said something that made her tip her head back and laugh, that little burrow of self-consciousness began to slowly fade away.

And somewhere between pint two and her finishing the cocktail, she became really pretty. Well— she was always pretty, it's just he was only now dwelling on it.

She raised her near-empty glass, "good choice, this. Two more of these and I'll be texting people I shouldn't."

Billy smirked lazily into his pint. "That so?"

"Oh yeah," she nodded solemnly. "Absolutely humiliating behaviour. One time I had this ex blocked, so I actually e-mailed him to tell him I missed him. E-mail! Who does that."

"You did not e-mail him…" he said blankly.

"I know," she groaned, covering her face briefly. There was a faint, hot flush to her cheeks as she hid her expression away for a moment, one Billy was no doubt sharing as he felt the sting of a sunburn under his eyes. Alcohol buzzed through his blood, and whatever pain was beginning to bloom from sun exposure was soon extinguished. Interrupted by her addictive presence.

The moment the sun faltered behind a house in the distance, her eyes snapped up. It was getting dark, and she was clearly surprised how much time had passed since she'd saved his wounded pride. Billy's heart hammered, shit, he didn't want this to end. Not one bit. His lips parted just as hers did. She's gonna say 'I should go home' or 'thanks for tonight, it's been fun' and he couldn't let her. Whatever came out his mouth was so quick his brain didn't even catch up to the words.

"Do you want to come to mine."

A sentence uttered so quick, he was surprised she even understood him. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and he immediately felt the crawl of heat up the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, blinking away as if he was suddenly unable to look at her directly, more interested in the circle of moisture his glass had left behind on the ledge. "I mean— you don't have to. Obviously." He gave a short, embarrassed laugh at himself, "that sounded a bit—"

"Fast?" she offered, amused, but not mean or teasing.

"Yeah," he breathed, all the confidence suddenly evaporating.

The beer garden had thinned out around them. Now instead of loud chatter he could hide within, he could only hear the rustle of the warm, summer wind against the grass, and the low music easing through the outdoor speakers.

"I just meant," he started, talking too much because it was better than suffering in silence he immediately perceived as rejection, "we could carry on talking. If you wanted to."

Her grin widened, "thought you 'had work early' tomorrow."

Billy shut his eyes briefly. "Right."

She let out a breathy laugh, "you're a terrible liar, you know. She saw right through that."

His blue eyes sparkled, alcohol fuelling his boyish cheek, "well, good job my schedule freed up when you came along, eh."

The teasing in her expression flickered slightly at that. Dangerous territory now. He could see it in her eyes, the slight dilation of her pupils. She grabbed her bag, slinging the strap over one shoulder.

"Suppose I should make sure you don’t get cornered by any more emotionally attached women."

"Very noble of you."

She winked, and if he were sat down, his knees would have buckled. He even righted too quickly, banging his elbow against the ledge and sending the glasses rattling. But she didn't comment, she'd done plenty of teasing tonight. She followed him at his side out the beer garden and he was suddenly unsure what to do with his hands, so he simply shoved them in his pockets, heat rising up his neck to his ears.

It was mercifully a short walk to his flat. Had anyone seen his face, they'd think she was leading him to the back to the firing squad.

"You suddenly look terrified again."

His head whipped to her, caught out. At his full height he had to look down at her a fair bit. Think of something, Billy, quick. "Just trying to work out if my flat’s clean."

"Ah." She nodded sympathetically. "A universal male experience."

"It’s tidy-ish."

She crossed her arms across her chest. With the sun beginning to set, the chill caught her shoulders a bit. "How tidy we talking."

"There may be clothes on a chair."

"One chair or the chair?"

"Do women have the chair too?"

By the time they reached his building, talking had become effortless again. Easy smiles. Gentle nudges of shoulders. The kind of warmth that made him feel lighter than he had in months. At the front door, Billy fumbled his keys twice before getting the right one in. The nervous energy was quite sweet. Like it was his first day on earth.

He immediately regretted his confidence in telling her his flat was 'tidy-ish' the moment he stepped in. Billy was suddenly hyper-aware of the toppled pile of shoes near his door, the dirty plates in the sink, and the way the floor leading into the living room seemed cluttered with charging cables and a few wayward socks. Embarrassed heat rose further up the nape of his neck, he half-thought of sacking it off altogether, but she was already inside, politely pulling off her trainers as he presumed she did entering any stranger's home.

He rubbed the back of his neck, so high strung that he forgot to even take off his own shoes as he turned to the small kitchen, frantically trying to stack the dirty tea mugs into the sink without breaking one of them. She tried not to watch, but couldn't help but pull her lips together to stop smiling, seeing that her presence had the same effect on him as it had several hours ago. She leaned against the kitchen doorway, looking around. She’d seen plenty of lads’ places, some absolute dives. This one wasn’t bad, all things considered. A bit messy, lived-in, but not grim.

"You can breathe, you know. I’m not gonna bite…unless you ask nicely."

Billy froze mid-reach for another mug, ears going pink. He let out a breathy laugh that was more nerves than humour. "Yeah, sorry. I’m shit at this. Been a while since I brought anyone back here. Can I… get you a drink or something? I’ve got beer. Or tea. Or— fuck, I don’t even know if I’ve got milk."

There was something strangely endearing about how undone he was. Most lads at the pub had been loud, cocky, trying too hard. And here Billy was, all broad shoulders and barely-contained panic in his own kitchen, and she found herself liking it more than she expected.

She laughed through her nose and pushed off the wall, picking a piece of fluff off his shirt that wasn't even there, just an excuse to get closer to him. She could smell some sort of Lynx on him. No doubt he'd doused himself in it before coming out.

"I don’t want a drink, Billy," she whispered, watching the confusion spread across his face for a moment before leaning up on her tip toes, not giving him time to blurt out an answer, and slid her hand to the back of his neck to pull him down to her lips. At first it was slow, as if she was testing how much he'd be into it, but slowly her lips moulded against his so perfectly that she felt his shoulders relax, a shaky exhale and his hands raising from his sides to hover over her body. A low, broken sound rumbled in Billy’s throat as he melted instantly, all that nervous energy dissolving under the slow press of her mouth.

Her lips were skilled as she worked his to her own rhythm, her gentle tongue easing his apart to taste the remnants of beer, malty and deep, and right now, indulgent. Her fingers curled into the damp strands of dark blonde at his neck, and she smirked against his lips at the barely contained whimper he couldn't quite keep to himself. Confidence soared through Billy's blood, assisted by Dutch courage, and his hands splayed against her waist, pulling her towards him slightly to feel the soft press of her breasts against his chest.

Her other hand on his chest twisted into his shirt, encouraging his body towards her as she walked backwards, her back meeting the wall of the kitchen with a soft thud. She kept Billy close to her, mouths moving more insistently now as their need spiked.

She inhaled sharply as she felt his fingers at the hem of her skirt, feeling electric against the bare skin of her thigh.

Their lips broke briefly for Billy to whisper, 'this alright?'. And she felt her cheeks flush at the gentle charm of him simply asking. She nodded eagerly, her hand coming down to his to encourage this behaviour she enjoyed so much.

Billy's foot nudged hers, widening her legs so his knee could slip between them, and she exhaled softly as she craned her neck for his lips to graze the sensitive skin there. With her eyes fluttering shut, his hand slid beneath the hem and found her warm centre.

He was slow, almost gentle in his approach, his fingers coaxing her core to life through her underwear. She could feel that tightening in her gut and the rush of arousal heading south where he was so perfectly touching her, right as he captured her lips again to swallow her quiet whine. The thick pads of his fingers teased her entrance before hooking through the gusset, pulling it aside so he could feel her bare slickness against his skin. Billy almost groaned into her mouth, she was so wet. And she met that needy sound with a small, breathy smirk.

"You're being so gentle…" she teased breathily.

Billy pulled back just enough to look at her. A crooked, half-shy smile tugged at his lips, but his voice was rough when he answered. "Yeah? You want me to stop being gentle?"

A spark of excitement ran through her at that. She rather liked this tipsy, slightly confident side of him. A half-shocked, breathy laugh escaped her lips, but it cut off instantly as two thick fingers slid into her effortlessly, stretching her open in one smooth, deliberate push. The sudden fullness pulled a soft, needy gasp from her throat. "Oh fuck…" she breathed, eyes fluttering.

He held them deep for a long moment, savouring the way she pulsed around him, before he began to move. She could tell his mind was on his movements the entire time, as if wondering when he'd fuck it up. But like this, she's not sure he ever could have. Tentatively, his thumb grazed her small bundle of nerves, by accident at first, but when he felt the velvet of her walls pull him in every time he did, he doubled his efforts, building that delicious pressure higher and higher.

His own breath hitched when he felt her bold fingers at the zipper of his jeans, not wanting to make him feel left out of course. The bulge there was unmistakable, straining against the denim. She palmed him through the fabric first, squeezing gently, feeling him twitch under her touch.

With a small, wicked smile, she tugged at the zip, slipped her hand inside and past the waistband of his boxers, and wrapped her fingers around his cock. He was hot and heavy in her grip as she began to stroke him confidently from base to tip, twisting her wrist on the upstroke in a move that sent electricity right up his spine.

"Jesus Christ…" Billy muttered, voice strained, forehead dropping to rest against hers. His fingers faltered inside her for a second as she pumped him with long, sensual strokes, spreading the wetness at his tip down his length. Their hips rolled into each others touch, chasing that delicious sensation over and over.

She kept stroking him steadily, matching the pace of his fingers inside her, squeezing a little tighter when his thumb pressed firmer against her clit. Billy’s hips jerked forward into her fist, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his chest, one that made her smile knowingly that she was driving him to the brink, insane.

She felt his stomach muscles clench, his breathing grow ragged as she stroked him more insistently, throbbing in her palm. He was close and she could feel it. But before she could relish in the wicked thrill of making him cum before her, his other hand grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"Fuck— wait," he gasped, voice tight with restraint.

He didn’t explain. He didn’t pull her hand away completely either. He simply held her wrist firmly against his lower stomach, her fingers still curled loosely around the base of his cock, feeling every frantic throb while he kept her there.

A flicker of confusion passed her until Billy prodded a third finger into her. The stretch was instant but welcome, and she near melted at the feeling, impossibly full. His palm pressed firmly against her clit with every slow thrust, grinding in tight, slick circles that sent sparks across her vision.

"Billy…" she whimpered, the sound broken and needy.

The wet, obscene sounds of his hand working between her thighs grew louder, slick and filthy in the quiet flat. The pleasure built fast and heavy, coiling tight in her belly. Her thighs started to shake around his knee, her free hand clutching desperately at his shoulder. She couldn’t protest. She couldn’t even think. All she could do was moan softly against his shoulder as the orgasm crashed over her without warning.

She clenched violently around his fingers as he rode the wave with her, her lips parted with a broken cry, muffled into his shirt. She grinded against every curve of his fingers, drawing it out as long as she could until her vision blurred and her knees felt like nothing.

Billy groaned low at the feeling as if it were giving him just as much satisfaction, his grip on her wrist tightened as he held her close, savouring every gasp and tremble like it was his reward. Only when her body finally began to relax, slick walls still fluttering around him, did he slowly ease his three fingers out of her.

She let out a shaky exhale at the loss, her body still buzzing. For a moment she just leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath, cheeks burning hot.

"Why didn’t you let me…" she asked breathily, her voice husky and a little dazed, glancing down at where her hand still rested against him.

Billy swallowed hard, perspiration shimmered against his temples, turning his sandy blonde hair darker. "I was gonna come."

So matter of fact.

She let out a soft, breathless laugh, "that's kind of the point, Billy?"

He gave her a crooked smile, looking almost shy and disarmingly sweet. "Yeah, but if I did… then I can’t… after," he mumbled, ears going red.

"Oh? So there’s an after, is there?"

Billy huffed, half embarrassed and turned on at the same time as the colour of his cheeks joined the one at the tips of his ears.

"…Yeah?" he said, hopeful and a little uncertain, like he was still half-expecting her to change her mind.

She grinned, sliding her hand up to rest against his chest. "Good. Because I’m in your flat this time, so you can’t slip out on me like you probably do after a pint and a chat."

His face lit up, baby blue eyes turning a shade brighter with the relief and genuine happiness. He looked younger like that, all sweet and excited like he'd won the lottery by keeping her here with him.

Without another word, he bent slightly, slid one arm under her thighs and the other around her back, and lifted her effortlessly. She let out a surprised little laugh as her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms looping around his neck. He carried her out of the kitchen and down the short hallway, his mouth brushing lazy kisses along her jaw the whole way.

He nudged the bedroom door open with his shoulder and gently deposited her onto the bed, following her down so his body hovered over hers. The mattress dipped under their combined weight, sheets cool against her heated skin.

Her eyes met his above her, hair fanned out against his bedsheets. Billy couldn't have come up with a better view if he'd tried.

A proper smile broke across Billy's face, warm and boyish. He leaned in and kissed her once, slow and tender, before murmuring against her lips, "as if I ever would."

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