Warnings: Predator/Prey vibes, Serial killers, stalking, smut, minors DNI, Soulmate trope, protector vibes, anxiety, angst. Specific warnings come before each part.
Two days since you've been in his presence, avoiding every mention and sight of him, making yourself as scarce as possible.
Two days since you kissed him.
Your body heats up at the memory. The way he grabbed you, held you close, returned your feverish kisses with some of his own.
You look down at your phone, swallowing when you see the read receipts light up on the message you just sent.
In true Billy fashion, he doesn't respond.
What a fucking pain in the ass, you think angrily.
You shake your head, dropping your phone onto your desk and throwing yourself into your work.
This time, you're not worried about possible fallouts, he'd definitely kissed you back, right?
Fuck, what a kiss. Your toes curled at the memory, a spot deep inside you aching, emphasizing the emptiness inside of you.
It was too much, the knowledge of what his mouth tasted like, the feel of his passionate hands on your body.
How could you ever hope to forget that it had happened? Did you even want to?
The answer was no.
You didn't want to forget it, and you didn't think it was a mistake either.
But it definitely wasn't a good thing.
Especially now, when your relationship had grown more strained in the last two days.
Friendship, what a dumb word.
If you weren't still upset with him, you'd probably go back up to his office and grip him by his stupid tie once more.
You think about kissing him again, kicking one leg over his hip, grinding your body against his. Maybe you'd slip between his legs and pull his thick cock out of his pants-
You gasp, blinking back into reality, aware that you've been staring at the same sentence for minutes now.
You swallow, clicking the document away with a sigh.
You toss your head back in your chair, take a small stretch, try to remind yourself why you were mad at Billy.
Right, he was too indecisive. One moment he holds you close and tells you the most amazing things, the next he's avoiding you.
If you followed through on any of your fantasies with him, there was a high chance that he'd ghost you afterwards.
He probably just didn't like you as much as you'd hoped.
It was a painful thought.
.
He was watching you.
Like the world's biggest creep.
Billy didn't completely understand why you were angry with him, but it was killing him inside. He needed to know, he needed to fix it.
It had been two days and he hadn't seen you in person since. You'd become very good at avoiding him.
The absolute torment of seeing you everyday to not at all and all he had was the memory of a kiss that still made his lips tingle and his cock hard.
Now, the only way he could see you was on the little camera feed tucked into a corner wall of the office workspace area.
The camera quality was grainy, really just put in and not monitored unless there was an issue.
Billy had opened the feed five times in the last two days.
It was getting ridiculous, he didn't want another day to go by without trying to talk to you. You'd given him a rather clear message to leave you alone, but he couldn't, not after knowing how hurt you were, and definitely not after he found out how sweet your mouth tasted.
Like fucking strawberries.
He needed to make amends.
.
You regret not going out tonight when Amy had offered. You could have been at a nice bar right now, sipping on a fancy margarita, laughing with your friends.
But you’d turned them down.
Why the fuck had you turned them down?
Friday night, and you’d just decided to take a bath and lie in bed.
It wasn't so bad, you reasoned, you only wished you were with them because you were in bed. If you'd been at the bar, you'd be sitting there, wishing you were here instead.
You smile, your therapist might praise you for becoming that level of self aware.
When there's a knock at your door, you raise your head in surprise.
Logically, it could only be one person. The one with the appropriate security clearance to make it up to your door without you being informed beforehand.
You take a deep breath, wondering what he would possibly want to say to you at a time like this.
You’re greeted with flowers.
You see them before you see his face, pink and white tulips, wrapped in a rustic brown paper and some thread that’s looped tightly around your chest just comes loose at the sight of him.
What did you address him as now? William? Mister Russo? Billy? What did you call your boss that you’d kissed in a heated rush in his office during working hours?
“Hey.” Is all you end up saying.
He says your name in greeting, looking down at the bouquet in his arms for a second.
“May I come in?”
May he? Was this a good idea?
You nod, pulling your door wider and sidestepping to let him in.
“Is there… something I can help you with?”
“You’ve been avoiding me.” He comments, avoiding your eyes.
Straight to the point.
“Yes.” You agree.
He finally turns to look at you, something unnameable in his eyes.
“Why?” He asks.
You give him a smile of apology, eyes drifting to the tulips still in his arms.
“Those for me?”
He nods, extending them out to you.
Your hands brush as you take them, turning away from him to find a place for them.
“They’re beautiful,” You state, “How did you know they were my favourite?”
"I didn’t.” He says, the awkwardness between you is as palpable as if it were a third person standing in the room.
He's silent as you take your time, searching for the appropriate vase to put them in. You press your nose to them and hum happily as the soft petals touch your cheek.
"Would you like something to drink?" You offer, turning to him.
He swallows.
"No. Why are you avoiding me?" He presses, going straight to the point.
You grin quietly into the flowers.
"I feel like you avoided me first." You hedge the question, looking eagerly at him for a response.
He looks a little irked, looking away from you and taking a deep breath, pretending to study your apartment.
"That's what this is about?"
"In part, you just kind of piss me off in general."
He raises his eyebrows in astonishment, still not meeting your eyes.
"Well this is confusing, considering that you kissed me." He challenges.
You wanted to rage at him, curse his stunning looks and captivating personality for pulling you into him, and this mindset of affection toward him.
Instead you suck in a breath.
"I feel like everytime we get close- as friends- you just… you pull as far away from me as humanly possible."
You let out a long sigh, leaving the bouquet of tulips in their spot on your kitchen counter, moving to plop onto your couch in a dramatic flourish.
You grab one of your throw pillows, setting it in your lap and squeezing tightly.
“Of course I’m avoiding you,” You continue, “I’m just expecting you to pull away again.”
You look at him for a moment, as he takes in your words. You can almost watch him process them, eyelids fluttering as he maybe debates internally.
“I’m sorry.” He finally says, coming to sit beside you on your couch. His eyes are earnest and warm, and it takes you by surprise.
You honestly doubted he’s said those words to many people.
“I push you away, I do, when I first offered you the job, you said that you weren’t interested if I was only doing it to get involved with you.”
He swallows, he looks so nervous that your heart almost breaks for him.
“I just didn’t want you to think that was true.” He continues, “You’re a good employee, but the more I get to know you, the more I want to, and I find that very dangerous.”
“Billy.” You say in a measured tone, waiting for him to stop avoiding your gaze and look at you directly.
“I believe you. You’ve made it very clear that you think I’m good for the job and I respect that.”
You can feel something shift between you, the animosity turning into understanding.
“I want to know you better too.” You finish, voice soft, earnest.
He blinks quickly, looking away. You can’t help your body’s response to him, the memory of his mouth on yours sparking up ill-timed tingles.
“I don’t want anyone devaluing your work because we’re close.” He responds.
Chest constricting, you smile sadly.
“I- that means a lot to me. But, people will find any excuse to do what they want. I just want to be true to myself and let the pieces fall where they have to.”
He looks at you, the corners of his mouth pulling subtly upwards.
“So, you forgive me then?”
You reach for his hand, covering it with yours, giving an affectionate squeeze.
“Of course I do.”
He turns his hand upward, interlocking your fingers, eyes drifting down to look at your joined hands.
Tingles spread from where he touches, moving from your arm all the way up to your chest. You gulp, looking at him, studying his face, remembering the kiss.
That damned kiss.
You watch him take a deep breath, and he looks up at you. It’s a long and heated moment and he doesn’t look away, doesn’t pull back.
You don’t know who moves, or if you both do, like magnets being pulled into each other, a force of attraction that cannot be seen with the bare eye, cannot be felt by anyone else other than you.
He’s so close that your noses almost brush. You can feel his warm breath dancing across your skin in little puffs.
"We, we um," You try to focus on anything other than his lips, looking into his half opened dark eyes as you try to speak, "We shouldn't be alone together."
"No?" He asks softly, a little tilt of his head and you watch his eyes drop to your lips, "Why's that?"
"Because..." You trail off.
Because I can't keep myself in control around you, you want to say.
Instead, you close the distance between your bodies, leaning in to kiss him.
A low sigh leaves the back of your throat as your lips meet. You feel your stomach flip happily at the reunion of your mouths.
He groans, the vibrations tingle against your lips, his large hand rising to cup your jaw, warm thumb stroking over your cheek.
You move closer, till you're almost in his lap, your fingers twitch nervously as your hands rest on his chest, sliding their way up into his hair.
You try to fight the urgency, the impatience scratching at the back of your head to just take and take and take.
Your lips part, gently tracing the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip for only a second before pulling back.
He makes an abrupt sound, drawing back suddenly, breaking the kiss. His movements are so surprising that you lean away from him and allow him the space to stand.
Your heart squeezes as you look at his back.
You're almost afraid to ask.
"Is everything okay?"
He doesn't speak for a long moment, raising a hand to rake through his hair.
"Yes, just wanted to check- are you sure about this?"
You blink.
"Yes, I am... are you? It's okay if you don't like me that much, we can stop."
He spins around as if you've said something positively absurd.
"Like you? You think I don't like you?"
You look down sadly, smoothing a hand over your knees.
"Well, yeah, you, you dismiss me sometimes as if you're not interested. It can come across as dislike, or even a little mean."
"Mean?" He says, taking long strides to stand before you, your head tilting down to follow his form as he kneels before you.
He looks at you for too long, and you have to look away or melt into a puddle under the pull of his dark eyes.
Carefully, he raises his hands to cover yours, smoothing over your skin with the tips of his fingers.
"When I'm around you, I'm usually using every ounce of strength I have to stop myself, to hold back so that I don't scare you off."
He swallows, tilting his head, his eyes locked on your joined hands.
"I want so many things, and you most of all. I've just been shit at showing it."
"You really have." You agree.
A smile pulls at the corners of his lips.
You raise a hand, cupping his cheek softly, thumb exploring the pout of his lips, the scratch of his beard.
His eyebrows draw together, he leans in, rubbing his bearded cheek into your hand.
"I'm worried," He whispers, "That I won't be able to stop."
"I trust you." You say to him softly, reaching up with your other hand to curl your fingers into the collar of his shirt.
"And I don't want you to stop."
You pull him in then, his body pressed to yours as you seal your lips together in a heated rush. Your body trembles with the sensation of having him all around you, so close like he's the layer of air surrounding you.
His hands cup your cheeks, blunted fingers gripping tight, daring you to be apart from him for more than the space of a breath.
Your insides unfurl with something akin to delight, your toes curl. You lean into him more, accepting anything he's willing to give, and answering with desire of your own.
You fight to keep the kiss slow, enjoy the way his mouth moves sinfully on yours.
But it's too powerful, this need you have for him, you want to scratch and claw and submit and surrender and take and it just turns like a tornado in your head until you're biting gently on his bottom lip, tugging on it with careful precision, body pulsing as you hear the low sound that leaves him.
He draws away for a moment looking at you with even eyes.
"You torment me." He whispers, pressing his lips to yours once more, any pretence of slow and careful being thrown out of the window.
You torment me too, you want to say.
He rises, pushing you back until your body lies flat on your couch, and he hovers above you. You keep his mouth firm to yours, fingers tangled in his soft hair, exploring his back and shoulders, and when you part your lips again, jutting your tongue out playfully, you're delighted when you meet his tongue in return.
Your legs on either side of his hips gripping him tight, daring him to pull away from you as he kisses you senseless, your tongues dancing together in wet bliss.
"I could kiss you all night." Billy says between kisses.
You nod, humming in agreement, pulling his mouth back to yours.
Your skin tingles, his careful fingers tracing your cheeks and moving down your neck.
You arch your body against his eagerly, so willing to give every part of yourself to him.
He slides his hand into the space between your arched back and the couch, keeping your body curved into his, your breasts rubbing against his chest, you wiggle your hips in an attempt to ease the near painful ache between your thighs.
You feel his cock then, stiff against his pants, and he groans into your mouth when your hips chase the firm sensation.
He whispers your name against your lips, a warm, broken sound of a man losing control of himself.
"Billy," You gasp, foreheads pressed together, resisting the heat of desire pulsing between your bodies, "I need you."
You feel his entire body shudder.
He nods, nose brushing yours as his lips move away from yours, kissing your jaw instead, and then the curve of your neck.
You cry out, his teeth worrying your skin, scraping against your sanity, soothing with gentle swipes of his tongue.
You feel yourself tremble, and tremble further when he moves down your body, frustrated hands pushing your dress up your thighs so that the bunched fabric settles on your hips.
He doesn't move for a moment, and you raise your head in worry to see him staring at the space between your parted thighs intensely.
"You don't have to." You whisper, misreading the expression on his face.
His dark eyes meet yours, he tilts his head for a moment, before his eyes drop to your clothed cunt once more.
"It's not that." He says, his hands starting at your ankles and sliding their way up your legs, "I've just thought about this a lot."
You bite down on your bottom lip very hard, trying to remain focused, and not beg him to fuck you within an inch of your life.
His hands stop midway between your knees and your ass, and he looks up at you.
"You want this?" He asks.
You almost groan in frustration.
"Yes, yes I really do."
"Tell me."
You gulp.
"Tell you?" You ask, your head too disoriented to focus on what he's asking you to do.
"Tell me you want me to lick your cunt."
A little needy sound leaves you at his words. You clench around nothing, gathering your thoughts for a second before you speak.
"Billy," You finally whisper, "Please, lick my... cunt."
A devilish smile pulls at his lips.
"Of course." He hums, his hands resuming their upward trail.
He grips either side of your underwear and you tilt your hips up, watching him anxiously, trying to read every expression on his face.
You know you're wet, that you've most likely soaked the gusset of your panties with your arousal.
You study him, as he tugs your undergarment off your legs and lays his eyes on your bare center for the first time.
His lips part, eyes dark as he looks at you. You watch his throat bob as he swallows.
Your breath catches as you feel the tips of his fingers graze your wet slit. Your mouth drops open at the gentle sensation.
His thumb finds your clit easily, grazing the swollen bud and you let out a harsh sob, back dropping onto the couch, unable to hold your body up.
"So. Fucking. Pretty." Billy says, so clearly that it makes you ache even more for him.
You groan when you feel his lips on your inner thigh, leaving careless tingles in the wake of his mouth, he kisses his way over your skin, and there's a short moment of pause where you feel a puff of his breath against your aching core before his mouth is on you.
A sweet kiss between your legs, a gentle promise to ease the ache inside you, and then he extends his tongue to slide against your clit.
It's like lightning, the speed at which the pleasure fills you, passing through you, amplifying, with the careful stroke of his tongue.
He groans between your thighs, his first taste of you leading to palms gripping at your thighs, fingers pressing into soft skin to keep you close.
His next lick is firmer, over and over again his tongue swipes over your clit, he makes another low moan, and the next glide of his tongue starts at your entrance and trails up to your clit.
You mewl, hands moving to cover your mouth, then down to cup his hands in yours, any attempt to process the delicious burn of pleasure blooming under your skin.
You sigh his name, you swear he answers with an easy swipe of his tongue.
It’s too much, embarrassingly so because he’s only just begun and here you are- already on edge for him.
Your resistance is futile.
His tongue claims ownership of your most delicate parts.
You never stood a chance.
Panting, your nails clawing at his hands, hearing his low voice hum in bliss between your thighs.
You make another soft groan of his name, it’s all you know, all you can remember in the hazy confines of your mind.
How is his tongue so skilled? How can he kindle you so easily? You are firewood and he’s a spark and now you’re burning just for him.
His beard tickles your thighs, you realised he’s paused his torment to kiss at your skin.
You’re helpless to it.
You can hear each desperate breath you take, it echoes in your ears, and then you let out another whine as he kisses your dripping cunt once again.
Filthy wet sounds as he takes care of you, tantalising groans as his tongue explores between your thighs, mapping places he’s only ever been in your mind.
The inferno rages, and when his lips massage your clit, sealing around it easily, his tongue playing with your swollen bud, you feel feverish with the euphoria.
“I- I’m-” You whimper, trying to tell him, an attempt to get him to understand.
He already does.
Groaning, one hand unfurling from around your thigh to reach his way up your body.
He tugs at your dress, pulling the strap off your shoulder and tugging it as far down as it will go. His tongue doesn’t slow as he pulls at your clothes, until one of your breasts is exposed to the cool air.
“Fuck.” You cry as he cups your hot skin, thumb finding your peaked nipple easily and dancing his thumb over it.
You feel the pleasure arc it’s way down your spine, joins with his tongue, threatens you with pleasure you’ve never experienced before.
You have one brief moment of sanity, where you’re acutely aware that your body is on a precipice, ready to fall at the next touch of Billy’s tongue.
All you can think in that one small moment is, Oh my fucking god.
And then you fall.
Frantic gasps as hot waves of pure pleasure crash over you. You feel the walls of your cunt spasm, clenching rhythmically around nothing. Every movement of your body is involuntary, each tremble and shake is something beyond your control.
Billy keeps the pleasure focused on you, helping you through your orgasm and into barely bearable territory.
He stops his torment when you whimper, pulling his messy mouth from your equally messy cunt, giving your breast another affectionate glide of his hand before pulling back.
You raise your head, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, watching him lick your arousal off of his lips.
You look at each other for a long moment. There’s that worry in the back of your mind that a clear line has been crossed so severely that it cannot be taken back.
If he has any inkling of your current train of thought, he doesn’t show it, leaning in instead, his fingers gripping your chin softly to keep you close to him.
“If you’d let me, I’d spend the rest of the night with my head buried between your thighs.”
Your breath hitches, you clench around nothing.
He smiles, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, observing your rumpled state, your dress pushed up to your hips, one strap falling off your shoulder, exposing your breast. You look like a proper mess where he still looks mostly put together.
You wanted to change that.
You sit up, sliding your body off your couch and standing on shaky legs. His eyes follow your every movement, and when you bunch your dress up, and tug it over your head, you try your hardest not to be shy about it.
He’s seen you touch yourself before, your mind supplies helpfully, it’s nothing to be naked in front of him.
It definitely helps, the reminder that he’s fucked his fist to the sight of you. You stand naked in front of him now, watching his every expression.
His eyes roam your bare skin, your body tingles at the feeling, his eyes as warm as a gentle touch on your skin. There’s just something about the moment, an understanding, a level of appreciation that’s so potent you can almost feel it.
He stands, takes a step in your direction.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Billy says, his voice low and hoarse.
“Yeah?” You ask, raising a hand to cup the smooth underside of your breast.
When he takes a step toward you, you take one back. You can tell he’s intrigued by the idea of it, the slow chase.
“Of course you are. You make it hard for me to think when you walk into a room.”
He takes another step, and you mirror his movement.
“That sounds awful. How do you put up with me?” You tease, taking more steps back, slowly guiding him into your bedroom.
The corner of his mouth twitches.
“I think about pressing you to the first flat surface and making you mine.”
A shiver of delight goes down your spine.
“Is that why you’re always so mean? Because you’re thinking about fucking me?”
“Obviously.” He answers, before raising his arms above his head and pulling his shirt off in one magnificent display of muscle.
You let out a little squeak at seeing him up close, you almost run toward him, instead of backing away from him.
Even with his shirt off, he looks so magnificently dangerous that you can feel how bad your arousal is for him. His chest is broad and lined with a delicious amount of muscle, his biceps are near perfection, and your body tingles for a taste. A trail of hair from the spot below his navel into his pants makes you flushed with heat. You imagine briefly what is cock is like, remembering absentmindedly the time he assured you that he was bigger than the large dildo sitting in your nightstand.
What makes him more delectable is the scars that cover parts of his body. There are some on his left shoulder, what looks like a bullet hole in his lower abdomen. You gulp, acknowledging the fact that his flaws only make him more perfect, more mouthwatering.
You almost forget that you’re naked, only gasping in surprise when your back comes into contact with the chilled surface of your bedroom door.
He lets out a slow breath, palms pressed to either side of your body, not close enough to touch, but just enough to make you feel trapped, his warm breath on your skin.
“You want this?” He checks in, tilting his head to the side to observe you.
You nod, looking up at him, he nods along with you in a slight mocking manner.
“I want to hear you say it.” He murmurs, his fingertips tracing your shoulder gently, goosebumps on your skin as he works his way down your arm, taking your hand in his.
Your mouth parts in surprise when he presses your hand to the outline of his cock. You can feel the raw size of him, hot and stiff against the palm of your hand. You realise, in the back of your mind, that he really was large- bigger that you’d initially thought.
“Tell me you want me.” He pleads.
You gulp, hands exploring the stiff erection in his pants, your fingers squeezing around the sides to get an approximation of his girth. Your clit aches with just the idea of his size.
“I more than want you, Billy, I need you. Inside me, so deep that I never forget the feeling.”
He nods frantically, unable to hold himself back, he leans in to kiss you.
You throw your arms around his neck and enjoy the slide of your fingers against his hot skin.
He breaks the kiss for a second, lowering himself to grip your thighs. You wrap one careful leg around his hip, and upon his insistence you transfer your weight fully onto him, his hands supporting your naked backside.
You cling to him as he lifts you, desperate, body aching for more and more of his touch.
You’re not sure how he does it, and you have no time to marvel at his strength before he grips your jaw, bringing your mouth back to his.
You sigh, cupping his cheeks, fingers scratching at his beard, feeling the hairs tickle your palms. You melt into his body, feeling him groan as his mouth moves over yours.
He walks you into your room, and you have no care for your surroundings, your hands too busy exploring his back and shoulders and anywhere else you can get your hands on.
He bends, placing you gently onto your bed, his hands rising to cup your cheeks, and then making their way over every inch of your shoulders.
“God, you’re so soft.” He rumbles against your mouth. You gasp when his palms cup both your breasts in his large hands.
“I could just touch you all damn day.”
He’s so talkative now, and you find yourself loving each word that leaves his lips.
“Touch me all day, lick me all night- when am I getting fucked?” You tease, hearing him laugh into your mouth.
“When you ask for it.” He says decisively, pressing you onto your back.
It’s like he can’t leave your mouth, pulling back for a moment, only to draw back to your lips in a heated rush. It makes you laugh, your body readily receptive to him.
He kisses your neck and jaw, electric tingles all over your skin, desperate shivers as he cups your breasts, pushing them together and kissing over them.
You gasp, writhing below him, his mouth on your skin feels amazing, he works his way down and you gasp, your thighs spreading easily when he moves to settle himself between them.
He doesn’t say another word, his tongue reuniting with your clit, swirling careful circles around your heated bundle of nerves. You gasp, arching your back, fingers drifting into your hair.
“Billy!” You gasp, and the vigour of his tongue increases until he’s just flat out making out with your cunt.
Your head swims, pleasure in every essence of your cell and you feel a lone finger drift in careful circles at your entrance.
“Fuck!” You cry, feeling his finger hovering right at your entrance for a long moment. He’s mean, his fingers tormenting you as his tongue licks over your clit at a steady pace.
“Please,” You sob, tilting your hips up, trying to chase the pleasure he’s not yet ready to give.
You try to breathe through it, squirming beneath his body, his hand grips your hip, thumb moving in firm circles to keep you calm.
You shudder in bliss when his finger sinks halfway into you.
It’s not enough, and too much all at the same time. His breath on your mound, his tongue laving lazily at your clit, he curls his lone finger partially upwards, scattering pleasure before withdrawing his finger.
“No,” You cry, “Please please please please fuck me Billy,” Your breath hitches, “I need it so bad.”
You feel him hum, before his finger re-renters you.
“Poor sweet girl.” You think you hear him mumble from his spot between your thighs, and then he begins rocking his finger in you so gently, that it’s almost more of a micromovement than anything. Yet somehow still, he manages to give you pleasure.
“Please please please,” You keep whispering, afraid that he’s going to stop giving you what you need, what you crave for and dream about. He’s every fantasy come to life, tongue rolling over your clit wetly, an easy rhythm of pleasure that he draws out from you leaving no thoughts in its wake.
A broken sound escapes you, desperate, aching, and you think he almost feels apologetic with the way he lines up a second finger against your entrance.
It’s debauchery, the way his fingers feel, broader and longer than yours could ever, makes you feel so insanely full when he carefully pushes two digits all the way into you.
He fills the deepest parts of you, erases any sense of emptiness, makes you forget that you’d ever craved fullness in the first place.
And then his fingers start to move.
Your breath escapes you in a hot rush, mouth dropping open as he starts off slow, painfully slow, rocking his fingers into you, curling them up, making sure you feel every little movement.
His tongue is still playing with your clit, you feel like crying, you’ve never felt this way before.
You say his name, one hand moving from his hair, over to where he grips your hip. You want to hold his hand, and he obliges easily, fingers linking with yours, make you feel so much warmer and safer with him than ever before.
I’ve got you, he seems to say with his actions, go ahead and fall for me.
And of course you do.
Cunt spasming around his fingers, desperate cries leaving your mouth as he winds you up and helps you through your second release.
You whimper, little gasps leaving the back of your throat as your body shudders with the oncoming pleasure. He keeps pumping his fingers into you, and you can almost feel the smile he has on his face, pressed to your cunt. You squeeze his other hand in yours tightly, his thumb smoothing over your skin even then.
When he detaches from your heated centre, you sit up quickly.
You lean into him, pressing your mouth to his frantically, reaching for the zipper of his pants. He tries to help you, one hand trying to work at the button while the other grips the back of your head, but you only get in each other’s way.
You laugh into his mouth as you both fumble, but silently thankful when finally you get his pants undone.
He has to pull away with a grin on his face, climbing off the bed so that he can shove the material of his pants and his boxers off in one go.
You go brainless when you see his cock. Erect and near throbbing, a little bit curved, you feel your mouth water as you stare at the monster between his legs.
He was very right to tell you that he was bigger than your dildo, you swallow nervously, trying to figure out exactly how that was going to fit inside of you.
Your eyes manage to glance at this thigh, you see a deep gouge on the side of his right thigh, you tilt your head in worry wondering what could have caused a scar like that, one that runs from his hip to his knee.
It must have hurt terribly, and your heart aches for whatever malady he’s been through in his past.
You seek to give him pleasure now, crawling on all fours to the edge of your bed, looking up at him for a moment, before dropping your head to suckle at the tip of his cock.
Billy hisses.
The salty taste of his precum fills your mouth. You can’t help humming at the taste of him. Slowly, you begin to bob your head, taking as much as comfortably possible.
His fingers cup the back of your head, slightly guiding your movements with no real force behind it.
“Good girl,” He grunts, guiding your movements, you hear him shudder out a violent breath, “So good for me.”
It makes you even more aroused, to know that you’re capable of returning the pleasure he gives.
Something shifts in the next moment, and he’s pulling his cock from your mouth and encouraging you into a kneeling position on your bed.
Your eyes slip shut as his mouth meets yours, something frantic inside of him now, and you’re eager and helpless to give him what he wants.
.
Billy can’t fight the predator anymore. The sensation of you sucking eagerly on his cock is too much and his control has slipped beyond his scope of reach.
Your hair is askew as he guides you onto your soft pillows, silk, to protect your gorgeous hair from damage. He pauses to look at you, your obedient eyes, willing to comply with anything he asks and it fills him with an uncontrollable power. The scent of your arousal is thick in the room, the aftertaste of your mouth and your cunt mixing on his tongue until he couldn’t extract himself from you even if he tried.
He hums, pressing his cock against your inner thigh, the heat and softness of your skin filling him with too much want. He’s fighting the predator, that pushes him to claim what was already his, what would be freely given to him if he asks.
.
His nose brushes your cheek gently.
“Are you sure you want this?” Billy asks softly, and you almost want to groan in frustration.
“Yes, please.” You say on a desperate breath, and you feel him kiss your cheek in response.
He takes your left hand in his, kissing at the tips of your fingers and you wonder if after tonight you’d be able to feel the ghost of his lips on your skin.
Fingers intertwined, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, he uses his other hand to align his cock with your entrance.
“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?” He asks after a second, and you nod frantically, squeezing his hand and daring him to even think about stopping.
“So good for me.” He whispers against your cheek and then his cock is pressed intimately against your entrance.
He stretches you, and opens you up even further until he’s fit snugly inside of you, filling you so much that you’re not sure how you can breathe with the intrusion.
His nose brushes yours affectionately.
“How do you feel?” He asks, as if you’re capable of assembling any semblance of thought.
Your lips part, you suck in a deep breath, the very first, with his cock pressed deep inside of you.
He waits patiently for the answer.
“Good,” You breathe, “So good, Billy oh my god.” You express.
He gives a sweet little smile that manages to get you even more aroused.
“I’m glad to hear it. Ready for the rest?”
The-?
“What?” You ask obtusely.
“My cock, sweetheart, would you like the rest of it?”
You try to raise your head for some type of explanation but you don’t get very far with his body pinned against yours. His eyebrows draw together at your shocked expression.
“There’s more of you?” You whisper in astonishment.
The corner of his mouth quirks up, and suddenly he’s laughing, burying his face in your neck and chuckling away as if his cock isn’t the largest thing you’ve ever tried to take.
His laughter is sweet though, soft and lyrical and you can’t help clenching on his cock, and hearing his laughter turn into a groan, squeezing your linked fingers.
“Yes,” He gasps, lost in the tight grip of your cunt, “Yes, there’s more of me.”
Your eyes are wide, a little afraid, anchoring yourself to him in hopes that he helps you through your fear.
“Take a big breath for me sweetheart.” he guides, with a steady, calm voice, nodding his head as you accept his guidance.
“And out.”
You do as he says, and shudder with pleasure as your body relaxes fully, you feel him slide deeper, eyelids fluttering as you discover more and more of him.
Finally, when his hips are pressed squarely to yours, and his cock fills you beyond what you thought you were capable of, does he finally say your name on a heated gasp.
You cup his cheek, thumb grazing over his rough stubble, he closes his eyes and presses his cheek to your palm and withdraws a little.
The first rock of his hips takes your breath away on a frantic sound. You hear him grunt in response, grinding his hips against yours, not moving too much but easily working into you.
“Billy.” You sob, legs tightening around his hips, one hand still linked with his.
He leans down, seals his mouth over yours, rocks into you in slow, lilting movements. You hum against his mouth, feels his body all around you, deep inside of you, holding you hostage and protecting you from everything except himself.
“You take me so well.” He grunts, his hot breath on your lips.
His mouth trails over your cheek, he kisses sweetly at your neck and shoulders.
His pace increases, his delectable body over yours, giving you pleasure that you barely understand.
His hand releases yours for a moment, only to grip both your wrists and pin them above your head, held firm in one large hand.
His grip on your wrist hurts a little, only adds to the pleasure of him fucking you.
He can’t stop kissing you, delving his tongue past your lips and exploring your mouth while he claims your body, hips rocking faster and faster into you the more time goes by.
He reaches a depth inside of you that you’ve never felt before, fills you with himself until you’re sure you’re the most whole you’ve ever been.
His cock pumps into you, your cunt is pulsing, sending large waves of immeasurable pleasure up your spine to fill your head. You feel your thighs tremble as the euphoria makes it all the way to your toes.
He keeps that pace, probably noticing the mindless state of you, your inability to form a single word, or produce a sound that isn't a breathless moan. You feel his influence on you in the farthest reaches of your mind, giving you more pleasure than your body can handle.
Finally, the pleasure sweetened even further, and Billy, in tune with your body, speeds the rhythm of his thrusts to match your needs. You gasp, barely able to find the thoughts, your body overflowing with absolute ecstasy and you’re almost afraid of what falling over the edge with him will feel like.
“Good,” He growls lowly into your ear, a sound you’ve never heard before, untamed, unhinged, and he’s using it to give you praise.
“So good for me.”
Your orgasm is involuntary. It’s not yours, only a response written by your body to answer his call. The sheer violence of your bliss takes your breath away, you feel your cunt clench hard around his cock, trapping him securely in place as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through you.
Vaguely, you’re aware of him groaning, but you don’t have the headspace to focus at the very moment. Your arms pinned above your head, his lips kissing at your face and neck, bare nipples grazing his chest and his cock stretching you wide.
Your cunt spasms, your body trembles, and trembles even more when he resumes his fucking, not even waiting for your first orgasm to fully subside before he’s trying to throw you right into the throes of another.
He’s harsher now, and you love it, your body revelling in the way he seems to lose control. He raises his head, you look deeply into his dark eyes. You can’t see much thought behind his eyes either, and you become acutely aware that you might be lost inside each other.
It only makes you that more desperate for him.
.
There’s no such thing as control anymore.
Billy’s lost any semblance of it, any memory of what it was like to be sane.
He has lost his old self, and he has found you.
All he wants now is to keep you like this, open and vulnerable on his cock for the foreseeable future. Your skin hot with bliss, little sweet cries filling his head.
He leans down, runs his tongue over the top of your breast, hears you gasp, loves the dirty way you love these things, appreciates the salty taste of your skin.
The predator in his head is synced up with him, both aspects of himself agreeing that this is where he belongs, balls deep in his mate, feeling her take everything he has to give.
He feels a completeness, that he can give you pleasure so easily, like his body was made just for you, to please you in every way possible.
He groans again, his voice beyond his control, hoping the low grovel of it doesn’t scare you, but even that makes your cunt squeeze him in satisfaction.
Yours.
He was yours.
He would only ever be yours.
He adjusts the angle of his hips, and he watches your lips tremble and your eyes water when his cock kisses a very sensitive spot inside of you.
.
You blubber mindlessly, sharp breaths and trembling thighs and you open up to Billy and you take everything he has to give.
You cum with a sharp cry. Eyes squeezed shut, body trembling as you try to process the bliss.
His hot breath on your skin, hips speeding up and suddenly a low grunt escapes him.
You feel his cock pulsing against your hypersensitive walls, you feel his cum, filling up the deepest spots of you and you can’t help the rightness of it.
Eventually, he releases your wrists, still deep inside of you, he braces his weight on his arms so that he doesn’t crush you.
After a moment, his arms wrap around you, adjusting you slowly so that your body rests on his, head on his chest, his cock still buried to the hilt inside of you.
.
He tries to make you comfortable, the biological urge for him to stay inside of you for as long as possible is something he’s never experienced before and he doesn’t know exactly how to control it.
He sighs, his orgasm still going through him, still filling you up though he doubts you can feel such subtle movements.
You burrow into him, and he hums in amusement, arms wrapping around your form, his heart pounding in his chest at how close you are.
“Did I hurt you?” He asks, checking in, fingers absentmindedly reaching for the edges of your hair.
“Wrist.” You say groggily, raising your left hand to his face.
“Fuck.” He voices, his eyes landing on the subtle bruises marking your wrist, he can make out the print of his fingers where he’d curled them to grip you tightly.
“Why didn’t you say something?” He asks, pain spearing his chest at the very idea that he’d hurt you. He holds your forearm gently, examining the faint bruising.
“Loved it.” You reply simply, he can hear the sleepy inflections in your voice.
He’d hurt you… and you’d loved it?
He makes a mental note to get some ice for your wrist, and to check it in the morning to make sure it’s doing better.
Now, he places a gentle kiss to the little bruise, feeling the abnormal heat of it on his lips.
“I’m so sorry.” He says to you.
You hum.
“Loved it.” You repeat.
.
"How is that? Is that better?" Billy asks, a little towel wrapped around a bag ice cubes pressed to your wrist.
You hum lazily, peeking an eye open to look up at him. You’re on your side, facing him, your left hand between you, bent to be in a more comfortable position.
“Doesn’t hurt.” You mumble, feeling sleep wrap itself carefully around your sated body. Your cunt is sore, quivering still from his use.
“Just a little uncomfy.” You try to explain.
He looks extremely concerned for a brief moment.
“I’m really sorry,” He tries to apologise for the fifth time.
You smile, shuffling your body closer to his, watching him focus on trying to keep his makeshift ice pack on your wrist. You kick a leg over his hip, not liking that he’d taken the time to put his boxers back on after he’d slipped from you earlier to grab the ice.
“Billy,” You murmur somberly, “I trust you, and if I really didn’t like it, I would have said something.”
“But I hurt you. Our first time together and I hurt you.” He says, his dark eyes so open and sad, hints of a frown turning down the corners of his lips.
You smile, your other hand rubbing his bicep and shoulder affectionately.
“I loved every second of it.” You whisper, unable to keep your mind conscious for a second more. You blink slowly, leaning into his body even more, heaving in a great big sigh.
“Please don’t leave.” You ask, as you tumble into unconsciousness.
.
He leans in, kissing the top of your head, and then your cold wrist, finally understanding that in your eyes, you don’t blame him.
His sweet girl, happy and asleep in his arms.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers, curling around you, the panther purring inside of him as he falls asleep beside you.
.
His eyes flutter open when his phone vibrates on your bedside table. He’d pulled it out of his pants pocket and dropped it there on his way to get you ice.
You’ve crawled your way mostly onto his body, your head resting securely on his shoulder, he somehow still manages to be holding the melted ice pack on your wrist that rests on his chest, though he’s not sure if it even makes much of a difference right now.
He’s groggy, not sure if he’s ever been that deeply asleep before, absolutely comfortable, the very right temperature, the scent of strawberries wrapped around him.
He drops the towel- wrapped ice pack onto the floor beside the bed, rubbing his eyes as his phone continues to vibrate.
He reaches for it, pauses for a moment when his movement jostles you. He holds you tight as his fingers wrap around his phone.
He swallows, squints, slides to answer, keeping his voice soft so that he doesn’t wake you.
“Russo.” He answers automatically.
“Bill.” Frank says, and it’s all Billy needs to understand that something is very wrong.
“What is it?” Billy asks, “What happened?”
“My boy’s missing.” Frank responds.
.
You shiver with the cold, tugging your blanket up and over your shoulder and letting out a sigh.
In your sleepy state, the memory of last night comes back to you.
You smile, extending a hand out to reach for the warm body that had been nearby when you’d fallen asleep last night.
“Billy?” You grumble out, when your hand meets nothing but soft pillows.
No answer.
God, you think, if he left this time I am never going to speak to him again.
You peek an eye open, sighing when there is no deliciously gorgeous man lying mostly naked beside you.
A groan slips past your lips, you extend your body out, stretching this way and that and huffing when you accidentally kick one of your pillows off of your bed.
You weren’t going to let your hope plummet just yet, maybe he was just in the bathroom, or the kitchen, maybe he was whipping you up a cup of coffee right now.
You say his name louder this time.
After a moment of no response, you climb out of bed, searching for him, finding your apartment empty of him.
You stand in your living room, trying to reason with yourself, trying to find answers for questions that you could barely formulate.
Was this going to be like the movies? When you’d just lost hope, he would pop in with a breakfast bagel and a latte and apologise for leaving you?
You swallow, going back to find your phone and dialling his number.
Voicemail.
Your throat tightens.
Surely he hadn’t made you sweet promises last night only to break them?
When your second attempt at calling him has the same outcome, your mind spins to a final conclusion.
You twitch your toes, waiting till there's a knock on your door.
Blinking, you open it carefully, trying not to fiddle with your fingers as the anxiety threatens to overwhelm you.
"Thank you for this." You say, looking up at Billy, before looking away.
He's dressed in his work clothes- suit and tie, looking at you so carefully that you feel like he can see so much more of you that you'd care to admit.
"I'm glad you called." Billy says, voice low, taking a step back to let you lock up, "Didn't like the idea of you trying to go down there alone."
You let out a dry laugh.
"I tried, but I just couldn't do it." You say to him.
"You look like you haven't slept." His voice is gentle, like a welcome hand on your back, rubbing circles to calm you.
You smile sadly at him.
"I haven't- I- I can't-"
"It's okay, we'll figure it out." Billy says, reassuring you that nothing you're going through is abnormal in any way.
You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.
"Thank you." You say, trying to express your earnesty, glad to have someone as understanding as him with you.
His car is... sublime.
Gorgeous, sleek in its aerodynamic design.
You're not too familiar with car models, but you catch the BMW logo on the front of the black car, smiling as he opens the passenger door for you.
You settle yourself in, admiring the supple interior, and the simplicity of it.
"Honestly, this is not what I thought you drove." You confess to him when he climbs into the car.
The engine absolutely purrs to live, revving beautifully, tingling your eardrums with the low sound.
"What did you think I drove?" Billy asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
It suddenly made you aware that you may have been about to tell him you thought he was extravagant.
"Okay, I just realised what I thought you drove made zero sense and I would like to retract my comment."
He grins at you, deviousness leeching out of his every pore. It makes you simmer with delight.
"No way, tell me."
"Well, I thought someone like you- CEO of a company that is- drove what other CEOs of companies tend to drive."
"An Aston? Lamborghini? Ferrari?"
"All of the above?" You supply with a light hint of an apology in your tone.
He laughs, and the sound is nothing short of divine. You wanted to memorize the funniest jokes just to hear him laugh again.
"I'm not that ostentatious. I run a security company, being unseen is my ally, and luxury cars like that are just impractical."
"I guess that makes sense." You mumble, deep in thought.
"But I have to admit that I did buy a Royce the first year my company lifted off."
"Of course you did." You tease lightly, with no malicious intent behind your words.
He gives you a little lift of his shoulder.
"It's the little things sometimes."
How easy talking to him was, so very dangerous in so many ways, you were always just two steps shy of flirting with him. He made talking to him so simple, made you forget about ever being anxious in the first place.
You were definitely in trouble.
.
"That's it?" You asked when the officer returns your bag to you, informing you that the items were left behind when the suspects realised they were being chased.
"What about my jewellery?" You ask, heart squeezing in your chest.
She gives you an apologetic shake of her head.
"Jewellery is usually a lot harder to recover, it might have already been pawned off. We'll keep an eye out, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."
Your heart sinks. You nod, thanking her before turning and walking back to a waiting Billy.
"I got my laptop and wallet back." You murmur, avoiding his dark eyes, trying very hard not to cry in front of your boss.
"That's everything?" He asks, "Do you want to go home?"
You swallow, nodding quickly and walking past him.
You hold this awful, rotten feeling inside of you all the way back to his car, but when you get in, and you close the door, the tears refuse to be ignored any longer.
Billy says your name with concern when he notices you crying.
You let out a shaky sob.
"I'm sorry." You whimper, pressing your face into your hands to hide from him as you weep pathetically.
It takes all of a second before he's pulling you against him, your bodies at an odd angle to allow you to fit against each other with the centre console of the car in the way.
"What is it?" He asks, "What's wrong?"
You lean against him, hands gripping at his bicep in an attempt to pull comfort from him.
"I knew the odds of getting the necklace back but I was hoping it wouldn't be true." You start, reaching into your bag and finding your packet of tissues hidden in the lining.
"I just- I know it's not that important in the scheme of things but-" you sigh, "-I really loved that necklace."
"It is important. If you loved it, then it's important. Don't lose hope, you can still get it back." Billy tries to soothe, his warm breath on your cheek, so maddeningly close.
You cry against him a little bit more.
"It just made me feel safe. After- after every terrible thing that happened. It made me feel like I was being protected by something much bigger than myself. But-" You shudder out a sad breath, "-not even that is true."
His arms tighten around you.
.
He wants to make so many promises to you in that moment.
Billy wants to promise that he'll do everything he can to keep you safe, that he's here no matter what. He breathes in your scent and squeezes his eyes shut and hates that he'd given someone the opportunity to lay their hands on you.
His sweet girl didn't deserve this, and Billy was going to do everything in his power to get you that necklace back.
You were his to protect, above all else.
.
You fall asleep on the drive back to your place, a sudden bout of traffic turning the ten minute drive into thirty minutes.
There's just something about being around him, that slows every rushing thought in your head, you find yourself so relaxed in his presence and before you know it, you're asleep in minutes. The events of the last two days have taken a toll, and you sleep so deeply that you don't register a single thing.
You don't wake, not even when he picks you up, scooping you into his arms so easily that you would be amazed if you weren't asleep.
He places you in bed, tugging your shoes off, before dimming the lights.
You only truly wake up, when you hear your bedroom door open, an indication that he was leaving.
"Billy." You call out for him, fighting to sit up, rubbing one eye to regain your focus.
He's paused at the door, looking back at you.
"Can you stay a little longer? Just until I get to sleep?" You let out a little sigh, "I've asked a lot of you already, so you can say no, I won't hold it against you. But I just-"
"I get it." Billy says, interrupting. He turns from the door, moving confidently to your bed, and carefully placing himself on top.
It's kind of hilarious, he's still in his finely pressed work shirt and pants, having shed his jacket and tie at some unobservable point. If you were more comfortable with him, you would have insisted that he change before lying beside you.
But your level of exhaustion is too great to worry about anything, not lying in bed beside your boss, and definitely not moving closer to him till you're almost touching but not exactly.
You look up at him with sleepy eyes, and he carefully raises a hand to your cheek to brush some of your hair out of your face.
"Thank you." You murmur, taking his hand in yours, pressing the warm appendage to your chilled cheek.
You can't help it in your sleepy state, curling closer to him, head resting in the crook of his arm.
"Just five minutes," you try to reason with him as if he's protesting in any kind of way, "Just until I get to sleep."
"I'm here." He says softly, as you drift off in the depths of his scent.
.
He stays for an hour after you fall asleep, trying very hard to talk himself into getting up and leaving.
It's just that you look so at peace, your head resting on his bicep that is half asleep with the loss of circulation.
The beast purrs, subdued, inside of him, eager to look at you, and be near to you, though he knows he shouldn't stay.
He's not taking advantage, he doesn't want you to even think he was capable. Billy has spent years curating a steady hand on his self control, only to have you rip right through it like its paper in five minutes with your bare hands and a sweet smile.
What would an eternity of this feel like? He wonders. How often would he find himself lost in your strawberry scent if he could?
His mouth waters.
He shudders in a deep breath.
You hum, drawing closer to him, he swallows when your palm connects with his clothed chest.
His eyes fall on the scratches at your neck, he tilts his head, studying it with careful eyes. He memorises the look of them, the way they make him feel. He latches onto the emotion, plants a seed of rage inside himself, watered by the beast's thirst for retribution.
Someone had dared to hurt you, and thought they were capable of getting away with it.
Billy needed to send a message.
One that would not be misunderstood.
.
You wake up alone.
Groaning angrily after a night of such peaceful sleep only to wake up and realized that he'd left just like you'd asked him to.
Was it too much to wish that he'd stayed? That he couldn't help himself and fell asleep beside you?
Of course it was, and it was a very dangerous, no good thought.
He was your boss, he was in control of your salary, you shouldn't be pining over him like some lovesick puppy.
The lines between personal and professional had been painfully blurred since the moment you'd started working for him, maybe even before, and yet still you wished it would blur farther.
What would waking up next to him be like? Hell, what would seeing him asleep be like? Would the harsh lines of his face soften till you couldn't tell his age? Would he make little sounds as he slept?
And then the scariest thought of all comes to mind.
Did he even want that with you?
Probably not, considering that he's left your 'Thank you again for last night' text on fucking read.
It was worse than not reading it. It had been hours since the read receipt was activated and yet still, he hadn't responded.
Maybe he was busy, you try to not let it get to you, deciding to go through your laptop and see if anything was tampered with in the meantime.
You still find difficulty in leaving your apartment. You try for hours, sitting at your open front door in an attempt to get used to the idea of it.
Everytime you try to leave your heart starts racing, your body shakes, all you can think about is what terrible fate would befall you next.
Thankfully, after a quick call to your therapist, she suggests starting smaller, with an open window.
It's how you end up on your balcony, sitting next to Dani's gift, soaking in the sunlight.
This was nice, this was good, outside was not something to be scared of.
But facing Billy's home- just reminded you of him.
Still left on read, you drop your phone angrily.
What did you want? A romantic relationship with him? That wasn't sustainable at all. You should definitely just avoid him, the way he was no doubt avoiding you.
Your hand spreads over your bare throat and you let out a sad sigh.
You wished you could feel safe again.
When night comes, you can't sleep once more. There's no Billy here to put you at ease, nothing to make you feel safe and warm and protected. The worries in your head are too loud, there's an agony to not being able to relax in your own home.
Amy is sympathetic to your plight, staying on the phone with you as long as possible until she inevitably falls asleep, and you're left alone once more with a world of thoughts.
You hadn't gotten any other type of communication from whoever had taken that photo of you. Had they given up? Or lost you after you changed both your address and your job?
Something in the back of your head, maybe fear, or just past experience, told you that things probably wouldn't be over that easily.
A sound catches your attention, as you gaze off into your room deep in thought, echoing through the apartment before it reaches you.
You raise your head, your heart pounding as you realise it's coming from the front door.
Was someone trying to break in? You reach for your phone, trying to be as quiet as possible as you climb off your bed.
Who should you call? Billy? No, it was 2am you should see what it was first.
As you get closer, you register that it sounds like soft scratching, a very strange sound for a potential thief to be making.
"Hello?" You call through the door, perplexed at the sound.
When there's a low rumble back at you, you take a deep breath and unlock the door quickly, pulling it open with a rush.
You squeak in surprise.
Midnight black fur, golden brown eyes looking up at you.
The panther, sitting patiently at your door.
"What the hell?" You say in disbelief, taking a step back, hands covering your mouth in shock.
There was a large beast sitting at your door.
The panther, somehow taking this as an invitation, stands, and walks slowly toward you.
You can't believe it, was this a prank or had you gone insane? How had a dangerous animal of this size gotten into your apartment building in the first place?
You step backwards as it approaches, taking slow steps as if it's somehow trying to put you at ease.
Your body smacks into the side of your couch and you stiffen as it gets close enough to touch you.
A soft head bumps against your thigh, your mouth parts with shock at the greeting.
There's a little purring sound it makes as it rubs its head over your thigh gently, eerily similar to what it did the last time you encountered it.
Last time...
Before it had saved you from a knife wielding serial killer.
"It's you." You say, in absolute surprise, your body building a strange cocktail of shock and calm inside of you.
The panther rumbles in something akin to agreement as if to say, 'yes, hello again.'
You reach for the large cat, shaky hands smoothing into the butter soft fur on its head, after a moment, when you realise there's no immediate threat, you let out a laugh of surprise.
It closes its eyes, nuzzling easily into your palms.
"Hey pretty boy." You murmur eagerly, speaking to him in a light tone that you can tell he loves based on the way he continues to purr, a deep vibration against your palms as you bring your face closer to his to rub your head against his affectionately.
He pulls away after a second, and you watch with an open mouth as he casually walks his way deeper into your aparment.
You move to follow before remembering that your front door is still open.
After hastily shutting your front door, you follow after where you saw him last, finding that your bedroom door has been pushed open at the end of your hallway.
There you find the large predator, lying on your bed.
You approach a little cautiously, very confused about what was going on.
He drops his head, and from his mouth, something shiny and gold falls onto your bedsheets.
The panther looks up at you eagerly as you move closer to investigate.
It was your necklace.
You gasp, reaching for it, picking it up to examine the little pendant eagerly, a little symbol of the large beast in front of you, dangling from a delicate gold chain.
You don't hesitate, clasping it around your neck excitedly before moving to your little vanity to examine yourself in the mirror.
The panther had brought your necklace back.
The panther... was in the city with you.
You turn to study the predator on your bed, and it looks back at you in kind, its tail twitching in what you assume is contentment on your bed.
How had this panther gotten all this way without being caught? Had someone trained it to bring this to you?
You tilt your head, and blink in astonishment when the panther also tilts its head to mimic you. When you straighten your head, it does the same.
You didn't think this was just another trained animal, there was something in its eyes, an understanding that you weren't familiar with.
You were probably going crazy, hallucinating, or maybe this was a dream.
You look down, counting your fingers. Not a dream.
This was real.
There was a real panther in your bed.
Or was it?
"Can you... understand me?" You ask, almost absurdly to the animal.
Its answer is to flop onto its side with a big huff.
"Is that a yes?"
Another huff of breath.
You approach the beast slowly, sitting at the edge of your bed, reaching out to touch one big paw, its fur so soft you're almost addicted to the way it feels.
"You're..... not.... jut a panther are you?"
A flick of its tail, the flex of its paw to show off the very sharp claws hidden between toes. You retract your hand at the sight of such a deadly appendage.
"Are you... also a human?" You ask, aware of how certifiably insane you sounded.
What other explaination was there? How had a panther brought you back a necklace? How had it known how to get to you?
The beast takes a deep breath, letting out another sharp huff.
You gaze away for a long time, your brain scrambled with too many thoughts, too many rushing ideas and reactions.
After a second you look back into its golden eyes.
"That was a yes?"
A huff.
You gulp, turning away, sitting at the edge of the bed trying to process the information given to you.
Shapeshifters? Shapeshifters were a thing?
"Oh god." You say, almost sick to your stomach at the implication.
As if it senses your distress, the panther crawls closer, and rests its large head onto your lap. Automatically, you raise a hand to stroke its head. Almost immediately, an arrangement of soft purring starts up, its eyes closing easily..
You can't help smiling, hands roaming over its ears, watching them with amusement as they flicker and twitch.
"You're kind of cute." You say to it- to him.
His response is to let out a soft sigh.
You observe him, admiring the way he looks, eyes drawn to the peek of teeth jutting out from his mouth.
"You're kind of scary too."
He peeks an eye open to look at you.
"Will you show me who you are?" You ask.
It's the wrong thing to say, because the panther's response is to pull away from you.
He stands on your bed, giving you his back and lying down facing away from you.
"Message received." You mumble.
You sit and stare at his back, raising your hand to touch the pendant around your neck, thinking quietly about everything.
The situation is absurd, beyond that even, there's no words to describe what you're going through. You can't seem to figure out why you're so calm, as if there was a puzzle piece in your head that has always been there, but just sitting in the wrong spot.
Now, things are just clicking into place, making more and more sense, but also showing you a side of the world that you didn't even know existed.
You feel your body overheat with the amount of thinking you're doing, you're not sure how you can even continue to exist with this knowledge-
You don't even realise you're unable to breathe until you wheeze out a gasp.
The panther, hearing just a single sound of distress, turns to face you quickly.
The bed dips as he stands and approaches.
"It's a lot." You whisper, looking up at the predator, tears blurring your vision.
His furry head bumps your cheek, an attempt to soothe you through your little freak out.
You feel him nudge you into a reclined position, and you let him, because you're too caught up in your shock to process anything really happening around you.
The panther grips your duvet in his teeth, and pulls it up till it covers your shoulders.
Slipping under it beside you, you study your hands intently, your focus.only breaking when he pops his furry head as close to your face as possible without touching.
You pause your self destructive thinking to study him, hand automatically trailing from the top of his head down his back.
It calms you, and after a few moments like that, you suck in an easy breath.
"You saved my life." You say to him, watching his ear twitch as you glide your hands over them. He doesn't react, merely looking at you while you're deep in thought.
You rest beside him, eyes drooping involuntarily, trying to stay awake and memorise the look of this animal in your bed with every sense you can.
"Thank you." Is the last thing you whisper quietly, voice just above a whisper, burying your head into his neck, admiring the silky feeling of fur on your cheek as you drift off right to sleep.
When you wake up in the morning, you almost think it was all a dream. That is, until you raise a hand to your neck, and you feel the warm gold necklace dangling from your neck.
Oh, @marvelmusing, I bet you thought that was the last of it...
Warnings: heavy voyeurism, smut, hints of angst.
B.Russo.
That's what he'd written on the scrap of paper. What was the 'B' for?
Probably Big cock because honestly, even though you had resisted temptation and not looked, his entire vibe expressed in detail how big his dick probably was.
He was... really something. His entire aura made you want to curl up beside him, have him hold you protectively while you slept. You just wanted to touch him, and keep touching him, and maybe kiss him if he wanted.
The memory of some of your dreams of him come to mind, they'd been eerily vivid, slow kisses and eager touches and words that you couldn't remember but the feeling of hearing them was seared into you.
Fuck, you might like him a little more than you expected.
You wanted to text him, maybe send him a message, but you were so trapped by fear.
What if he hadn't meant it like that? Maybe this was just for emergencies, and he would find you annoying if you tried. Maybe he found you annoying enough already.
You sigh, putting your phone down.
Where had that sarcastic girl inside of you gone? The one that had sassed a serial killer who was about to end her?
You'd felt yourself change so much after that experience, scared of the world around you, and you missed her, you missed the person that you used to be.
She wouldn't have had any problems asking a hot guy his name.
Then again, William wasn't just any hot guy, he was still a client, and you definitely should not get involved.
He was probably just extending a courtesy to you anyway.
.
It was annoying how much he found himself staring at his phone.
Fuck. Had he come on too strong?
He rubs a tired hand over his face, exhausted.
The predator was scratching at the inside of his mind endlessly, turning his brain to shreds. Demanding he go to her, demanding he find her, and kiss her, and pick her up, seat her soft body on his, feel the heat of her arousal between her thighs-
His phone rings.
Fuck.
Truly, everything was so tedious now, mind-numbingly boring. He no longer wanted to spend long hours at the office, sacrificing his personal time for work, he wanted you. He wanted an existence, where he could go home to you, crawl into bed beside you, rest his body beside yours, stay there beside you until he rots, leaving only your bones and his together, a lifetime of eternal peace.
He blinks, realises how insane his thoughts are.
He didn't know the first thing about you.
No, that wasn't true, he knew lots, he knew how you laughed and he knew the sound of your voice and the scent of your skin and there was a million more things to learn and he wanted to know them all.
.
"Surprise!" Dani exclaims as you open the door to her.
You laugh in amusement, unable to see much of her face through the magnificently large palm plant in her hands.
"How on earth are you holding on to that? It's fucking huge." You say, stepping aside to let her in.
"I'm strong, I get by." She replies easily, moving to place the plant by your nearest window.
You watch her, as you close the front door.
She grabs at the heavy curtains, pulling them aside to let some sunlight in.
"Oh, this place is awesome, I love the little balcony." She comments, staring out of the windows.
You grin.
"Thanks, honestly, I don't go out there much." Or even open your curtains, but you'd definitely have to have some sunlight come in now for your new plant friend.
"Can I?" She asks, and waits for your nod of approval before pulling the glass door open.
The cool air of the morning spills in, you find yourself liking it, appreciating new things about your new apartment.
Truthfully, having the windows open made you a little bit on edge, you didn't know who would be able to look in, and it paired oddly with your feeling of constantly being watched.
Outside certainly wasn't too bad though, as you inched closer to the window, you found that you could see a little into the house next door, a kitchen area and a little bit of a sitting area, with a cute fireplace.
This was his house, you realise with abject facination.
"Who's house?" Dani asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.
"Uh, the guy I was telling you about, who helped me with my bags the other day."
"Big dick Russo?"
You smile.
"Yeah, him."
"Hmm, nice place." She comments, moving away from the window.
When your second friend arrives, she brings a jar of cacao nibs and a crate of strawberries.
You happily thank Amy, washing some of the strawberries and settling into the couch to enjoy them.
You'd been friends with Dani and Amy for a lot of your life, and you'd come a long way with them. They were both there that night, you'd been trying to keep them safe when you'd taken off running.
You remember the aftermath, stumbling back toward the sound of their voices calling your name, trying to explain to them, with barely any breath left in your lungs, what had happened.
They hadn't left you alone for even a second that night, at least one of them in sight at all times.
If it weren't for them, the aftermath would have decimated you.
You curl up happily with your strawberries, listening to their little updates.
You smile when Dani turns her concerned eyes to you, she asks how you've been sleeping.
"Actually a lot better here. I feel surprisingly safe."
She nods in understanding.
"Yeah, the doorman looked at me so suspiciously it was almost funny. If you didn't call ahead, he might have kicked me out."
You smile, nodding.
"No more surprise birthday parties for me."
"Well, I can always seduce him into letting me in." She says with a shrug of her shoulder, earning a laugh from you.
Amy, who has been making herself a cup of tea, squeaks loudly.
You spin to look at her, her eyes open comically wide, hands clamped over her mouth as she stares out the open door to the balcony.
"Oh my god, what?" Dani says, standing suddenly to move to another window, parting the curtains slightly to look out.
She looks for a second, eyes scanning the area in confusion, before her mouth drops open.
"What?" you say moving to take a peek over her shoulder.
At first you don't see it, you don't know where to look, your first thought was something on the roof of the next building or maybe the ground below, before movement in the opposite window catches your eye.
Your mouth goes dry.
His hair is wet, fresh from a shower, his torso is bare. You blink, trying to double check that he was in fact there, in his kitchen, half-naked after a shower, a towel wrapped around his hips.
He reaches into one of the taller cupboards, grabbing a mug, the muscles of his back flexing as he closes the cupboard door.
Your body tingles at the sight of him. You watch him scratch the corner of his lip absentmindedly as he checks his phone, turning away to disappear deeper into his home where you can't see.
"Jesus Christ." Dani whispers, reminding you that she was there, a small frown forming on your face as you realise that you're not the only one admiring him.
"We shouldn't be watching him." You try to say, looking at Amy, who does not draw her eyes away from the window.
Dani's gasp pulls your attention, and you try to peek over her shoulder once more.
His hair is askew, his body a little less wet now, black boxers replacing the towel on his hips.
"That's a big dick for sure." Dani whispers.
"Stop. Enough." You say with finality, reaching around her to shut the curtains in her face.
You close in the balcony door next, avoiding looking over as you draw the curtains shut.
Everyone is silent for a moment, before Amy says your name.
"Please send him a text." She says, with pleading eyes.
You let out a little huff.
.
There's a fascination for him that does not leave you, and when you find him in your dreams later that night, you make sure to express all your pent up frustrations very clearly.
He's standing in your living room, studying the little palm tree. He turns to you with a smile when he senses you approaching.
You are not smiling.
Hands gripping his wrists, you pull at him, almost angry in your feverish movements.
He looks stunned when you push him to a sitting position on your couch.
You're still in your vintage night dress, all soft fabrics and little bows, you raise the hem, sliding yourself onto his lap easily.
He's still looking at you with surprised eyes, he doesn't know what's brought this on but he does not want to stop it in any way.
"What will it take to make you mine?" You whisper, leaning into him. His eyebrows draw together, confused.
"I already am." he answers easily, just as your noses brush.
"I wish you were," you say harshly against his mouth, "I wish you knew how badly I want you."
"I was made for you." He confesses, a promise against your lips as his fingers secure themselves to the spot behind your neck, pulling you in.
Your mouths meld together, a blissful sigh from each mouth.
Your body calls out to him, empty, aching.
You take his free hand, guiding it slowly over your thigh, so that he touches the spot right over your womb.
"I need you right here." You gasp into his mouth, and you feel his fingers tighten reflexively on the back of your neck.
He says your name, a whispered prayer.
"Please. I'm so tired of being empty." You plead, ready to beg if he would just give you what you crave.
"I'm right here," he promises, hands caressing either side of your face, kissing your lips one more time for good measure.
"And I'm not going anywhere."
When you wake, it's with a sad sigh.
It's odd, to be this disastrously needy, and yet feel an ache in your chest like never before.
You strip your nightdress off, your body exposed to the cool air of your room, only your underwear on to shield you from what you're about to do next.
You're not thinking when you pull your bedroom curtains open, all you want, is for him to see.
It doesn't matter that he's a stranger, or that he's a client. In the dark of the night, with the moonlight streaming in, all you want him to be, is yours.
.
He isn't expecting it.
So when he moves to his windows to check for movement, he doesn't think it's real.
For a moment, he thinks he might still be dreaming.
But no.
There you are.
Your curtains parted, and he can see right into your bedroom, the moonlight soft on your gorgeous skin.
You writhe on your sheets, one hand on your breast, the other- he swallows- the other under the lining of your panties.
You were playing with yourself.
His heart hammers in his head, the predator roars.
He watches, it doesn't take much for you to come, back arching, quiet gasps, trembling thighs.
Your chest heaves as you try to suck in air. He wishes he was in the room with you. The scent of your cunt must be filling the room by now, despite the flimsy piece of fabric between your thighs.
What were you thinking about? Was it him?
You tug your fingers out of your underwear, his mouth waters at the sight of your glistening fingers.
He groans, backs away from the windows so that his silhouette isn't visible. Watches you close the curtains, and disappear from his view.
It's well into the morning, long after he's been awake, after his Sunday morning run, he's standing in his kitchen, blending a smoothie, when his phone goes off, a little picture display telling him exactly who it is.
Warnings: Smut, Anxiety, two dumbasses doing the dumbass dance.
He's hunting.
Like he always does.
It starts with the scent, sweet and decadent, calling out to him. He's weak to his baser needs, desperate for a taste.
The front door shuts behind him, the scent stronger here, pulling him forward on an invisible leash, one he cannot hope to resist.
It's dark, moonlight streams through the gaps in the curtains, he wants the moon to watch him hunt, watch him devour his prey.
He takes a deep breath, parts his lips. He can almost taste it.
Past the kitchen, turning right, down the hall.
He passes other rooms, ripe with the same scent, an office, bathroom, studio, and yet he does not get distracted, does not slow his stedy pace.
He knows what he wants.
He knows where to look.
At the door to the bedroom he takes a quick breath, confirming the right location, before opening the door.
Strawberries.
Sweet and tart, it fills the air, beats like a pulse, saying his name in a language only he can understand.
He makes a low hum of approval.
It wakes her.
A light sleeper, the anxiety of her past experiences makes her alert to him faster. Her mouth parts in a quiet gasp when she sees him, sitting up to observe him clearly.
He cocks his head, studying her fright, the beast inside of him demanding him to protect. To keep her safe from anything... everything that would wish to harm her.
He stalks toward her, he stops at the edge of the bed.
The smell of saccharine fruit makes him dizzy with need.
He reaches, moves slowly so that he doesn't frighten her, pulling the thin white sheet away from her.
She lets him take it, lets him toss it aside, the air between them is filled with so much unsaid words, but he is in no speaking mood.
She pulls her knees to her chest, eyes wide in fear, he looks down, her cunt glistening with arousal.
Surely, she wouldn't mind if he had a taste?
How could he resist?
He presses both palms flat to the bed, her eyes are so vulnerable. The beast inside of him is pleased, satisfied by his mate so openly exposed to him.
For him.
He crawls toward her, every aspect of his predatory nature on high alert. Her body tenses, but she doesn't move. Her fear and her arousal makes him ache, a near painful throb between his legs, seeking his own release.
He drops his head, intent on a peace offering, thinking only of easing her fears as his nose brushes her thigh.
A hitch of her breath, a delicious reaction that he craves, before he's licking over her wet slit.
The taste of her cunt on his tongue makes him moan, he licks her softly at first, he wants her at ease, he wants her to enjoy.
He wants to please.
She gasps, and he takes the opportunity to delve deeper, tongue gently exploring until it grazes her sensitive bundle of nerves. She shudders in bliss.
The beast inside of him purrs, his eyes squeeze shut, his face pressing deeper between her thighs.
She's soft, supple, delicious, femininity in his hands, evidence of her pleasure on his tongue.
He licks at her, his mind calming, pleased at finding what he was looking for, simply appreciating her at this point.
Her breathing is faster, her hands clenched on either side of her. He draws her tight, like a bow on the brink of snapping.
If he could feel her orgasm, he would be able to die a happy man. He wonders briefly what else she is capable of, when just the taste of her cunt can tame the predator inside of him.
She whines, and she gasps, and she cries, she's so close, so deliciously close to peak and it's all because of him, and just a few more swipes of his tongue would make her fall apart-
The buzzing of his phone wakes him.
The anger that tears through him is visceral, potent, he cannot resist grabbing his pillow and throwing it at full force across the room.
It hits the wall with a 'thud,' louder than normal.
He watches the pillow slide to the floor, can almost imagine the look of betrayal on its inanimate face.
The beast is irritable as he reaches for his phone.
"What?" Is all he says as he answers.
Katerina, who has grown used to his venomous tone, barely bats an eye.
"Sir, calling to inform you that a team has been dispatched to the Harvey residence. You told me you wanted to know."
Billy huffs, checks the time, two a.m.
"Let team leader know I'll be on site in ten."
"Are you sure? Sir-"
He doesn't respond, ending the call.
He sits up, takes a deep breath, moves to his bedroom window.
There's a small apartment building built beside his townhouse, three floors high.
On the second floor, the curtains are drawn tight, where other patrons on this side of New York hold no distress for leaving their curtains partially open. He even knows that the woman on the first floor does it on purpose, shows off in an attempt to draw his attention, and yet he's still drawn to the second floor.
To you.
He takes a deep breath, making sure there's no sharp sounds of distress, before he turns away, looking for his tactical gear in an attempt to get ready.
~
William Russo didn't like you one bit.
Though you'd been hired to give him a consult, and he'd chosen your company despite the last few bad reviews, you knew that in the back of your head, your presence was barely tolerated.
You tried to be as sunny as possible, leave no room for him to speak to you the way you'd overheard him speaking to some of his employees.
Sure, they had made easy mistakes, but to err was human, right?
It made you anxious, everyone at your company was on edge, hoping that this job would be an end to the bad streak that had been plaguing you.
You'd almost been swapped out for someone more experienced, until Mister Russo had challenged the idea.
"If you don't trust her work capabilities then why is she on your team?" He'd challenged the night of the dinner where you'd first met.
Your boss had looked almost pale, insisting that you were capable of completing the consultation up to mark.
The comment had made you fight a smile, fully aware that your boss had only invited you along to answer technical questions, and hadn't actually planned for you to take the lead on the project.
William's insistence had ended up giving you the task, whether intentional, or unintentional, you still weren't sure.
Truthfully, he was a difficult man to get a read on. He didn't laugh, barely gave more than a tight smile, and did not engage in small talk at all.
You'd tried to get him to open up, to speak to you, but you'd gotten nowhere, and eventually you'd given up, content to work in silence then, if he would not converse.
You'd spent the last few weeks like that, in this quiet agony, feeling carefully watched everytime he was in the room.
Was he waiting for you to make a mistake?
You weren't going to, you woke up every morning at five to triple check your work, on edge with all the pressure coming at you from all sides.
The panther was the only thing keeping you calm.
After your initial bout of fear, after the shock of hearing bones snapping had worn off, you'd found that reminders of it put you at ease.
When you'd found the tiny gold pendant, nestled into the dark corners of the antique shop, you knew you had to have it.
So today, you'd happily worn it for the first time, trying to complete your job before he gets here, so that you could be out of his hair and away from his uncomfortable stoicism faster.
You were currently under his desk, tracing wires and making notes of the general conditions of things. Your job was to make an assessment of his current IT setup and consult on something more efficient, something that would match the levels of security he required for running his company.
It wasn't too bad currently, but you'd definitely seen improvements that would help strengthen security in the long run.
One of his local IT guys had been accompanying you, but he'd thankfully stepped away and gave you the space to work.
You hum quietly to yourself under his desk, crammed into the little space, trying to confirm model and serial numbers.
"Find what you're looking for?" A voice asks.
You jump so hard that you hit your head against the bottom of the desk.
Pain blooms at the back of your head and you let out a hurt sigh.
"Are you alright?" He asks, no hint of concern in his tone.
"Yeah," you say a little sadly, rubbing the back of your head, embarrassed that he'd startled you.
What did you expect? You were in his office after all, of course he'd come in eventually.
You crawl out slowly, one hand holding on to the book with all of your notes in it.
You rise to your feet, smoothing out your clothes, your sensible shirt tucked into jeans for easy motion paired with a mild formal look.
You smile up at him, touching the back of your head gently to check how much it hurts.
He's got his eyes on you, his face solemn as usual.
"How is it going?" He asks, referring to the job.
"Really well, I'm almost done with my data collection." You reply casually.
"And no problems from my men?" He asks.
Besides the occasional misogyny?
"They're fine." You answer, a little terse, smiling up at him.
He blinks.
"What is it?"
Your eyes widen.
"What's what?"
He folds his arms, leaning against his desk. He looks across the room, to the floor length windows.
"Have they been disrespectful?" He asks, not looking at you.
You watch him closely, heart squeezing at his casual dominance. He probably doesn't even know that he's doing it, a sharp spike of arousal goes through you. You watch him take a deep breath.
"Do you really want to know? Do you think you would take me seriously if I gave you an honest answer?"
His eyes flit to you.
"Have I ever given you a reason to think I wouldn't take you seriously?"
"Not yet." You say ominously, a twitch at the corner of your mouth when he raises his eyebrows at you.
You suck in a breath, looking away.
"I'm used to it, condescension. It's... irritating. I will say, that your employees could definitely use a refresher course on equality in the workplace."
"Noted."
You turn to look up at him, giving him a shy smile.
He probably wouldn't take you seriously, anyway.
"Okay," you say happily, "That's everything. My team will send a proposal within the week, and you'll be able to review."
William nods, the traces of a smile forming at the corner of his lips. Very delectable, dangerously kissable lips.
"Thank you for all your assistance."
You nod, nervously bringing your hand up to touch your necklace before dropping your hand. It draws his attention.
"No problem, have a nice day." You say eagerly, turning on your heel and getting out of there.
You only sigh with relief when you're in the elevator.
He made you feel so on edge, you think you were shaking from the stress of being in the same room as him, desperate to impress him, trying your hardest not to mess this up for the company.
It was stressful how easy it was to talk to him. Ugh why did you mention the equality thing? He probably thought you were trying to tell him how to run his company.
Fucking shit.
Anyways, thankfully, you were done with him, and you didn't have to see him again.
.
She was wearing a symbol of the predator around her neck.
The beast had almost consumed him when he finally noticed. He'd had to grip the desk tightly, fighting the urge to chase, to take, to claim.
You were his, and he knew it, and it had made him happy to see, that on some base level, you knew it too.
He could smell the paranoia coming off of you in waves, and though he wanted to ease your troubles, to soothe your mind from the past traumas, he knew this was not something to be rushed into.
No matter how many times he got lost in dreams of you.
.
.
.
A/N: I'm just playing around on this fine Wednesday morning.
There's a near painful casualness to the joyful way you greet him in the morning.
Standing by his car, arms crossed, his impassive expression seems to lighten when he catches sight of you leaving your apartment.
"Hey Billy!" You say, noting the subtle way his hands flex when he reaches for your door, opening it for you.
He says your name in return, a low sound, that goes straight down to your toes and back up before stopping in your chest.
You smile, thanking him as you duck into the passenger seat of his car, automatically pulling on your seatbelt.
You're vibrating with excitement, maybe too much, the knowledge that he touched himself while watching you gives you a power you didn't know you craved until now.
"I hope your night wasn't too bad." You knowingly tease, watching him swallow as he begins driving.
"It was actually pretty decent," he murmurs, eyes fixed forward, focused on the road, "Though, one of my neighbors gave me quite an eyeful."
You already have your response locked and loaded.
"Oh no," you murmur with false sympathy, "Must have been quite a shock."
"It was."
You hum, nodding your head.
"I guess, that's kind of a consequence of having neighbors." You turn to eye him, "Sometimes you just see things."
He spares you a glance, your expression calm and polite, as if you didn't touch yourself with your curtains open for him to see last night.
"Maybe you're right." He concedes.
"Of course I am."
He smiles.
.
"How have you two not fucked yet." Dani says, deep in thought.
"I don't knooooow." You whine, flopping onto your couch with a huff.
After thinking for a moment, you speak.
"Maybe he just doesn't like me." Your voice is muffled in the couch but she hears you anyway.
"We're not looking at this the right way." Dani suddenly says, which makes you raise your head curiously.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when he first offered you the job, didn't you specifically say that you wouldn't take the job if he wanted to fuck you?"
You groan, burying your head back into your couch.
Was this what it had come to? Your own words being thrown back at you?
"Yes." You answer.
"So what if this is just him doing what you asked."
You let out another frustrated sound.
"You're telling me that I'm the reason I'm not getting fucked senseless right now?"
"...Yes?" Dani says, a little chuckle escaping her when she sees you wriggle angrily on the couch.
"What do I doooooo." You fake cry, raising your head to give Dani your best sad face.
She leans forward, a brightness in her eyes, that gets your undivided attention.
"Here are your options, one, turn up the heat, flirt with him, wear prettier clothes, make him notice you. Option two, get him jealous, turn your attention on someone else and then see if he tries harder to keep you close. Lastly," She leans back, steeples her fingers like the mastermind she is, "forget about him and maybe actually move on because there is a possibility that he's just not that into you."
You groan in frustration.
You didn't like any of those options, wearing nicer things meant being noticed by not only Billy, but other people too. Making him jealous implied that you had to be willing to get to know another person, which you were not.
And forgetting about him? Is probably what you should have done from the start.
"Can't I just parade naked in front of my windows for the foreseeable future?" You ask, watching as Dani's focused expression morphs into a grin.
"You could, but I doubt it would get you fucked."
You swallow.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because you would have been fucked by now."
Oh, how you hated when she was right.
.
"I overslept I'm so sorry." Is what you say to Billy when he sees you, rushing out of your aparment building. You do look slightly disheveled, as if you didn't have time to smooth your look into perfection like you usually do.
He smiles, opening his car door for you as usual, and listening to the breathless way you thank him.
When he gets into the car, he can still hear your overzealous breathing.
"You're alright," he tries to reassure you, "It's okay to be a few minutes late."
"Sorry, I just- I'm sorry if you were waiting long."
"It's okay, no need to apologize." He finishes, turning on his indicator so he can pull out onto the street.
"Do you mind- is it okay if I finish doing my makeup?" You ask, he can hear the worry still laced in your voice.
"Yes, of course," he says, keeping his voice even, trying to soothe you.
You breathe another word of thanks before pulling out your mascara from your bag.
Billy fights the urge to watch, with rapt facination. He finds the idea of it intriguing. He's curious to see your little routine, wonders how much it would differ from his own.
He quietly loves the domesticity of it all, him driving to work while you feel comfortable enough around him to apply your makeup.
At a traffic light, he can't resist turning to look at you.
You glance back, touching up your mascara before closing it.
"What?" You ask, rummaging in your bag for something else.
You're beautiful, he wants to say, with and without makeup.
Out loud he says,
"I'm just fascinated by the process."
You smile at him.
His heart stops when you pull out a tube of red lipstick.
It's not just red, red is an understatement. It's crimson, it's burgundy, it's the colour of spilt blood on fresh snow.
He swallows as you swipe the wand over the pout of your lips.
When someone blares their horn, he turns his head back to the road, driving off when he realises the lights have turned green.
He tries not to look, worries he might get lost in it.
The predator stirs within him, demanding he stop torturing them both.
He takes a shuddering breath.
"Are you okay?"
He's unable to respond, eyes fixed on the road.
The beast thinks about how the shade would look smeared across your mouth.
"Billy?" You say, concern heavy in your voice.
He sighs.
"I'm fine."
He's not.
.
It's a fast drive to work, and he avoids looking at you the rest of the way there.
When he parks, and you get out, he's already walking away from you, heading in the direction of the basement security booth, directly opposite from the elevators.
"See you this evening." Is all he says, not even sparing you a glance back.
You huff.
.
An emergency conference meeting puts you in his path once more.
There's an hour till lunch, and Billy tries not to fidget as he waits patiently for you and the rest of his team to show up.
He hears you laughing with someone outside as you draw nearer to the meeting room and his mood sours further.
When he sees you, he almost wants to fucking collapse.
Your mouth draws his attention, the vibrant shade catches his eye, makes his stomach flip.
You smile at him, and he nods evenly in return, looking down at his phone, trying to distract himself from staring at you.
Your mouth is divine, he wants to lean in, press his mouth to yours, feel the desire build inside of him until it has nowhere to go but out. He wants to rub his nose against yours, he wants your lipstick smeared across his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, his chest, his cock-
"Mister Russo?"
He doesn't startle, simply moves his eyes to stare firmly at the man that dared interrupt him from his thoughts of you.
The man in question swallows.
"What do you think?"
He sucks in a deep breath.
Turning to look at you, you meet his gaze head on.
God, that's a lot of fire.
"I'm assuming you can justify your actions?" Billy says to you.
"Of course I can." You say evenly, confident, like you know exactly what you're doing and everyone else is just in the way.
"Well?"
The corner of your lip twitches, you were just playing with everyone in the room, weren't you?
You turn to look at Phil, his IT managing director.
"If I told you what I was going to do, you would have taken action to stop me. Even indirectly, sometimes just the knowledge of a potential security breach would put you on edge, which puts your team on edge. The best attack is one done unexpectedly."
Phil shakes his head.
"You're the person designing the system, you work here, of course you're going to understand how to get around our protocols."
You pause for a moment, looking right at Phil, who, to Billy's credit, doesn't show any outward expression, despite the scent of intimidation rolling off of him.
You're playing with him, and you look so much like a predator in this moment that Billy feels his heart swell.
"It sounds to me, that you're making the assumption that security breaches are only ever going to come from people who lack the skills to beat the system. And while, sure, majority may not have the skill, we need to consider the possibility that one day, someone might."
Phil is unable to form a rebuttal, and after a minute he mutters.
"Someone should at least know when you plan to rip into the same system you design."
You nod, clicking your pen and pulling out your notepad to write something down.
"Noted. I'll send Mr. Russo a heads up."
Phil turns to look at him, and Billy feels the need to placate both parties.
"Not to worry, I understand the systems are still being set up and understood. Hopefully, we come out of this stronger."
He nods at both of you, feels a little bit more proud of what he's building.
"Have a good lunch." Phil bids, before walking out of the conference room.
You reel on him as soon as the door clicks shut, eyes full of passion that it startles him.
"Holy fucking shit Billy I just came up with the best fucking idea."
He stares at your animated form for a second, before he can't contain his humour, tilting his head back and laughing.
"There's no time for laughing, Russo! Get it together- look-" You move across to his side of the table, right into his space and drops your little notepad into the spot in front of him.
He squints, but your passionate handwriting makes zero sense.
"Did you make a note to tell me before you try to break into my system?"
He looks at you, your expression moves from one of excitement to confusion.
"What? No- fuck that- I mean, respectfully, sure I'll warn you but-" You glance down at the notepad, while he continues to just look at you.
"I've been thinking about it for a while, what if someone really good tries to hack the system? Better than me I mean."
Billy is seriously doubting at this point that there is anyone better than you.
"If we make it look like it's reasonably difficult, someone trying to get access won't question it. Someone smarter, will just think that we lack the brain power for a sophisticated system."
His eyes draw to your mouth, he's trying hard to focus but some of his essential blood supply is currently making his cock swell.
"So you're suggesting, we offer a fake room full of information to hide the real room?"
"Yesssss," You hiss happily, looking down before tapping your pen to your mouth.
The universe has no mercy for him, he watches the pen smudge your lipstick.
It's beyond him, he can't stop himself, his hands reach up to cup either side of your face.
You make a little sound of surprise, being distracted from your complicated thought processes, suddenly focused on him.
Your eyes are wide, and fixed right on him. He takes pleasure in that, wants your focus on him, and him alone.
.
His hands are warm, as usual, holding your face gently as he looks at you.
Was this it? Was he going to kiss you?
He sighs, takes a step closer so that your bodies are right against each others.
Your stomach flips, you almost want to beg.
"This colour is beautiful on you." He murmurs finally, his thumb reaching out to swipe gently at the edge of your bottom lip.
Your breath catches, you think about taking his thumb into your mouth.
Your brain stalls as you stare at him.
He tilts his head, smiles, deep in thought.
"What do we say?"
"What?"
"When someone gives a compliment, what do we say?"
"Th- thank you." You stutter out.
Ever patient, he nods.
"Good girl."
Your mouth parts in shock.
He pulls his hands away, taking a step back.
"Enjoy your lunch." He bids, before leaving you alone in the conference room with parted lips and damp underwear.
.
You lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, fingers curled around your necklace, deep in thought.
You wonder who the panther is, wondering if you knew them at all.
You try to turn it over in your head but there's too many things you don't know, and not enough information.
You don't even know where to start looking for this information, searches online giving no real help beyond the realm of fantasy.
But this wasn't fantasy anymore, shapeshifters were real, a fact.
It made the world that much more dangerous.
Or maybe not, considering that most of your troubles had come from human roots anyway.
You sigh, rolling over, and sucking in a deep breath when you come face to face with the panther.
You raise your head, looking around.
Had you fallen asleep?
The panther hums to get your attention, leaning in until the top of his head brushes your cheek.
"Hey kitty." You greet softly, hearing the rough purring start up as the panther settles its body next to yours.
You sigh softly, pressing your face into his fur, giving his ear a little kiss, and feeling it flick gently.
His tail smacks against your knee as it waves in a haphazard direction.
You smile, tossing an arm over his back, sighing in bliss when you can almost feel the softness of his fur like he's really here with you.
You lay like that for a bit, on your side, curled against the panther when suddenly a human hand reaches for you.
It grips your jaw, turns your head up and away from the panther.
Billy, with warm fingers and a gentle smile, doesn't hesitate to lay his mouth across yours.
You groan, pressing your head up and firmer against his mouth, desperate for a taste of him.
He pulls back for a moment, before giving you another quick kiss and he's gone, leaving you tucked against the panther for the rest of the night.
You wake up in the morning, curled around a pile of your pillows, disoriented, looking around for your panther before the realisation hits you, that you'd only been dreaming.
Warnings: Canon typical themes, Billy mentioning his past, voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation, *slow nod* dumbasses.
A/N: Apologies if you're vegan/vegetarian/don't eat beef, I usually try to make these things neutral, but in this case, panthers are carnivores and that had a factor in the meal I chose.
Special dedication to @blanchedelioncourt for those two cute checkmarks you see beside my name. Thank you so much my love 💖
He liked meat.
He'd confessed to you on the drive home that he could never pass up an opportunity to indulge on a nice piece of steak, or even fish.
You liked the idea of preparing a filet mignon for him, but with no cuts at home, you'd quickly ordered from the nearest meat supplier, thankful that with today's technology, same day delivery was possible.
You'd agreed on a plan, he had to go to his place to get cleaned up, and he'd be at your door around seven.
Since he wasn't a fan of green beans or broccoli, you decided to do sautéed potatoes, and maybe a few glazed vegetables.
It was exciting, preparing a meal for him, you found enjoyment in the planning process.
The meat arrives at your place at the same time you do, and you examine it, making sure it's high quality, desperate to impress your boss, coming over to your home.
My friend, you correct with a smile, pulling out ingredients and beginning prep work as you close the door behind you.
You spot him, moving around in his place while you work, and you're happy that you decided to have your curtains open, even if to just catch tiny glimpses of him on occasion. Seeing more of him could never be a downfall.
Your mind jumps to the panther, and you let out a blissful sigh, feeling so unbelivably safe for the first time in a long while.
.
You've just finished with the potatoes and vegetables when there's a knock on your door.
Calm down, you tell yourself, when you realise your hands are clammy with anxiety.
"Hey." You say to him easily, letting him in. He's dressed down in a long sleeve burgundy sweater and jeans, and you definitely try your hardest not to devour him with your eyes.
You'd been able to shower too, tugging on one of your more casual dresses, the comfort and length of it managing to emphasize how much this was not a date. If it were a date, you'd be more inclined to wear something shorter, maybe tighter, but your loose dress hopefully showcased just enough without advertising too much.
"You look nice." He follows up, after saying hello, and you smile and return the compliment...casually... like friends would.
"I'm almost finished. How would you like your steak done?" You ask him, while busy fussing over your potatoes.
"Rare, but, you know you don't have to, right? I would have been fine with pasta."
You have to look away from him, bite your tongue so that you don't say something snarky or flirtatious.
"I wanted to." You respond easily, heating up your cast iron pan.
"Where did you learn to cook?" He asks, coming up next to you to study the little layout beside your stovetop, the garlic and rosemary prepped and ready to go.
"Online," You admit, looking up at him with a little smile, "It wasn't too hard to pick up, I really like eating."
"Good," He murmurs, reaching for a rosemary stem, breaking it in half and bringing it up to his nose to take a deep inhale. Your insides curling tight at how close he is, you want to lean in and press your head to his chest.
"You're so good at so many things." He murmurs absentmindedly, and it's not the heat of the pan that warms your face this time.
The steaks smell delicious as they cook, and Billy hovers over your shoulder, asking questions that you're very happy to answer. You even explain to him the steak finger test, explaining by touching his hands, how you'd know the meat is at the desired readiness.
He takes in information easily, doesn't get defensive, or act as if he already knows. If he has a question, he isn't afraid to ask you.
You might love that about him the most, how easy it is to be around him. There's no condescention or ego in the way, there's just him, and you, and conversation enough to fill the room.
When everything is plated, you reach for the cast iron pan to place it in the sink.
You grab a cloth, wrapping in around the handle, picking up the pan easily.
On the way into the sink, the hot handle grazes your fingers.
You hiss before your body even registers the pain, your fingertips screaming in brutal betrayal at being scorched.
He's beside you instantly, opening the tap to pull your hand under the cool stream.
"Ow, oh f-" You stop yourself, humming in pain.
One of his broad hands is against your back, rubbing in an attempt to soothe as he tries to care for your hand.
You try hard to resist swearing, and eventually he notices.
"You can say 'fuck' if you want, I don't mind."
You look up with him, a pained smile of resistance plasterd onto your face.
"Come on, say 'fuck' for me."
"Fuuuucccckkk." You draw out, letting the frustration of your pain out in one breath.
He laughs, you find yourself smiling along.
"See? We're friends, you can swear in front of me, I'll even go first so that you don't feel shy about it."
After a moment of baited anticipation, he opens his mouth.
"Shit." He says.
"Bitch." You respond, making a game out of the crude words.
"Asshole." He follows up.
You giggle, speaking without too much thought.
"Cock."
The air seems to freeze, holding still, ever patient to pass judgement on whether you've gone too far.
He leans in a little, till your noses are near touching, you can feel your body coiled tight at his proximity.
"Pussy." He whispers, and you feel the ascension of your soul to high heaven.
He doesn't allow the atmosphere to grow awkward with your stunned silence, he pulls your fingers from under the cool water to examine them. There's no pain anymore, and definitely no real damage done.
"Do they still hurt?" he asks.
"N-no," you answer, "It was nothing serious."
Billy nods in understanding.
"We should eat." You utter, doing your very best not to stutter and succeeding.
You offer him a glass of zinfandel, and you take one for yourself before sitting across from him. The wine is ruby red, and though it's advertised as a sweet wine, you don't find it very sweet at all.
You cut your meat slowly, waiting patiently for him to cut into his.
You sigh happily when you see the inside of his steak is an almost perfect rare, appreciating that you came very near the desired colour.
You try not to stare at him, or make him uncomfortable as he brings the first piece up to his mouth.
You're vibrating with worry as he takes his first bite, looking politely down at your own plate and waiting for a response.
A low groan spills from him.
You look up in surprise at his face as your toes curl at the rough sound. It goes right down to your cunt, pulsing with desire since he looked into your eyes and whispered that filthy word earlier.
His eyes are closed, his fingers wrapped tightly around the fork as he chews. Your heart pounds as you realise that his current state of bliss has been caused by you.
He opens his eyes, fixes them right on you.
"That is fucking delicious." He says, his voice low and gravelly as he picks up a piece of potato this time.
You sigh in relief, cutting into your piece next, excited to taste what he does.
It is good, you hum in appreciation as you eat it, relieved, that you managed not to mess this up.
.
It's only been one meal, and yet somehow, Billy has found himself captivated by you.
No other relationship had ever blossomed so quickly, or made him feel this safe in his vulnerabilities.
Being around you was as easy as breathing, he could laugh, and say the first thing that came to mind and not have to second guess himself because you were so welcoming.
He wonders if all of you would be welcoming to him.
The panther takes the opportunity to insert vivid thoughts of your parted thighs, images of your slick cunt ready for him to take.
He could scent it, between the savoury notes of the meal, was the sweet call of your arousal.
You wanted him, he knew it, and he wanted you too.
He holds himself back from acting on it, doesn't want to destroy the little pieces of friendship he's managed to gather with you. He doesn't want you to think that any of this was motivated by just sex.
"Will you tell me more about growing up?" You ask, three-quarter way into the meal.
He almost chokes on a carrot.
"It's.... not the best story." He responds.
"Oh, it's fine if you don't want to talk about it. I didn't mean to pry."
But he wants to. He wants to tell you about it.
"My mother dropped me off at a fire station when I was born. I have no idea who my father is."
"I'm sorry."
He shakes his head.
"Don't be, she was an addict from what I understand, might have been worse for me if she kept me."
You smile sadly at him, reaching across and covering his hand. He looks down at the touch, before turning his hand upwards so that your hands are clasped together.
"The group home wasn't all bad, just lacking you know? A decent family, but with all the important parts missing."
You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back.
"I ran away when I was fifteen, kind of just jumped from place to place, living off scraps, sleeping wherever was safest, and then I met Frank a couple of years later."
Billy grins.
"Frank saved my life, and then we joined the military together. Gave me a rough brotherhood I didn't know I needed. Served for ten years and here I am."
"Wow, that's quite a story," you murmur, looking deep in thought.
"Why did you run away?"
He swallows, looks away from your inquisitive eyes.
"You know, I just got tired of them."
"Oh."
He shrugs.
"Yeah, well I hope your childhood was better."
You smile.
"Maybe so, I mean, comparatively, but not without its own problems."
He nods in understanding, eager to hear more.
.
You're almost done with the story of your childhood when there's an odd knock on your door.
Nine taps, with a short pause each third tap.
Your eyebrows draw together in confusion.
"I hope you don't mind, I ordered dessert." He says, standing up, and walking to your door.
He opens it, and you watch him accept a little cloth parcel from the person on the other side of the door with a nod of his head.
Curiously, you slip off your seat and approach him as he closes your door. When he turns, he finds you right before him, examining the item in his hands.
"You ordered dessert?" You ask, confused beyond measure.
"I wanted to surprise you, and I couldn't pick it up before coming here, so I had it delivered downstairs and brought up. I hope that's okay?"
Surprise me? You think, an odd feeling of delight swimming inside of you.
You smile, reaching for the box that he gives easily, and you place it onto your counter, taking care to unwrap it gently.
Your mouth parts when you catch sight of it. It's a lemon meringue, with a strawberry layer beneath the toasted marshmallow fluff, and a beautiful strawberry topping all of it off.
There's only one pie, but it's about the size of your hand, definitely large enough for the two of you to share.
"It looks amazing." You comment, tilting your head to examine the toasted brown waves of the marshmallow fluff.
"It is, I got it from one of my favourite dessert places. The chef's ex-marine, like me."
You smile up at him, grabbing two spoons from your kitchenette and taking the pie into one hand.
"Couch?" You offer, no room for arguement, you ease yourself onto the soft seat, trying your best not to topple the dessert.
He sits beside you, and you turn to face him, offering a spoon in his direction.
"I've never had a meringue before, but I always wanted to try it."
"Is that what you call it?" He responds, "I usually just ask for the lemon pie."
A sound of humour mixed with pain leaves the back of your throat.
"You're lucky they get your order right," you say with a laugh, "One day, you might just get an actual lemon pie."
He hums, taking a small spoonful of the meringue and tapping it against your spoonful.
"Well, here's to getting what you want."
It's an odd toast, but you follow his lead and put the spoonful of dessert into your mouth.
The first flavour you get is the delicious sweetness of the marshmallow and strawberry, the sweet citrus tang of the lemon follows next and the crust rounds all the flavours up into a delicious and fruity finish.
"Fuck." You sigh, closing your eyes for a long moment and simply basking in the flavours that melt right into your mouth.
You don't look up at him, taking another hasty spoonful before sinking right back into your circle of bliss.
You hum at the flavour, the tangy strawberry slices below the marshmallow fluff adds a very interesting taste.
"Sorry." You murmur, absentmindedly to Billy, lost in the flavour.
"For what now?" He asks and you smile.
"For being weird."
He hums.
"Honestly, I'd say the dessert had the desired effect."
"Yeah, if making me fall in love with a pie was the goal."
"So you admit it's a pie, then?"
You let out a little chuckle, looking up at him. He raises his eyebrows at you as he takes another spoonful into his mouth.
"I never said it wasn't a pie!" You shoot at him, "I'm just saying, there's a difference between what you ask for and what this is."
He leans in, teasingly, your heart stutters as he gets closer.
"And yet somehow, I always get what I want." He comments, and you gulp.
Up close, he notices that a few strands of your hair a clinging to your face and are almost in your mouth.
The raises a hand, it hovers over your cheek and you try to keep breathing and not drool while you're at it.
"May I?" He asks, and you nod your head quickly, before he even has a chance to decide against it.
His fingertips are gentle on your cheek, brushing away the strands in small swipes. You sigh at the relief of subtle irritation, giving him a small smile.
Your breath finally stops when he cups your face in his hand, and you feel your eyelids droop. His hand is warm, against your feverish cheek and he's so close that your noses brush.
You mind is screaming at him, with urgency, the words kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me, are chanted inside your head.
He does not kiss you.
Instead, he pulls back, rough palm slipping from your cheek leaving a coolness that wasn't there before.
He checks his watch.
"It's getting late, I should go."
You try to curb the disappointment inside of you by eating the last spoonful of tart.
"Yeah, sure." you say after, standing and piling the spoons onto the few dishes in your sink before washing your hands.
You open the door of your aparment for him.
"I'll see you in the morning?" He asks.
"Mhmm," You hum the affirmative, "Take care." You add in after a moment.
He gives you a nod, and then he's gone.
You wait, back pressed to the door till you hear the elevator outside ding as it reaches your floor. You're patient for a few more moments before you move, grabbing a throw pillow from your couch and screaming into it out of frustration.
Panting, you give the pillow a little punch for good measure.
What an infuriating man he was, tormenting you this way.
You lie there, with the pillow over your face for a few minutes after the frustration has left your body in a fatigued mess.
The lights clicking on in his home catches your attention.
You hated him.
He made your blood boil, he made your body ache, he made you wet and he took no acknowledgement of his actions.
You reach up, under your dress, tugging your panties off in one swift move, kicking it away to be worried about later.
You groan when your fingers meet the soft edges of your dripping cunt, ready and eager for the pleasure it so deserves.
You suck in a deep breath, arching your back and reaching up to unclasp your bra with sticky fingers, pulling it from below your dress before tugging the straps of your dress down.
You sigh happily, breasts exposed to the open air as your fingers meet your cunt once more, sliding up to brush against your clit, you gasp in surprise, truly unaware of how aroused you really were until now.
You wished he would have kissed you, you think about the filthy way he'd dip his tongue into your mouth and explore. His mouth would taste like the lemon meringue you were sharing, he'd groan into your mouth hopefully, like he was tasting something worthwhile, the way he groaned over your cooking earlier.
You sigh, one hand worrying your swollen bud, while you raise the other to pinch at an unsuspecting nipple. Your breath hitches, losing sight of your surroundings as a sharp wave of bliss overtakes for a moment.
The pillow near your face slips off the couch in your shaking frenzy, and it opens up your line of sight to the windows of his apartment.
You groan, imagines him looking at you while you play with yourself, imagining the filthy words he'd say if he could see you.
You turn your head from your exposed window, facing the couch instead so that you can imagine more clearly that he's watching you.
You tug your dress higher, the wetness between your thighs threatening to spill over and stain your couch.
You think about the way he'd hold you to his body, tight, without any room to breathe or pull away.
What would it feel like to sink down onto his cock? Your breath hitches at the thought. Of having him rock you slowly on his lap, his teeth in your shoulder, your dress undone and barely hanging onto you.
You want to cry from how badly you need him.
You turn your head back to your open window.
There he is.
You shudder out a sigh, working your hand faster between your legs.
You can't see much, the lights behind him casting a shadow over his frame so that you can't see much more than his silhouette.
You know he can see you clearly though, your lights are still on, and you're sure every inch of your body is illuminated for him.
You gasp, tilting your head back, the hand on your breast moving to fist the soft couch tightly as you slowly reach your peak.
Your back arches, and your orgasm slams into you. Your thighs tremble, your entire body shaking, all you can focus on is your clit, circling it just right to prolong the orgasm.
Your nipples tighten further, and you only hesitate for a second before you push two fingers into yourself.
You almost scream, automatically clapping your hand over your mouth as you rock two fingers inside of you.
You remember the way he'd said the word 'pussy' not too long ago.
You turn your head, he's still there.
Enjoying the show? You think in his direction, and when you focus a bit more on his shadow, you notice very subtle movements of his arm. You raise your head to focus on him.
Oh god, is he-
Fuck, he is.
He's touching himself while he looks at you.
You hiss, the very thought of him encourages your hand to move faster, with more force between your legs.
Fuck me, you beg in his direction, I don't want to be your friend anymore.
You let out a long sigh, your fingertips just grazing that blissful spot inside of you.
You lose focus of everything the next time you cum, gasping, trembling, struggling to do anything more than feel the absolute bliss flooding your system, so much pent up frustration caused by being around him being released from you on each breath you take.
You sigh, pulling your fingers out of your dripping center, turning in his direction to look over at him.
One hand pressed to his window, you watch his head drop, his open palm fold into a tight fist, the fast movement of his arm slowing into soft strokes.
He must have orgasmed too.
You smile, tugging your dress up to hide your breasts from his view. You know you should move to clean up soon, the wetness of your arousal growing uncomfortable between your thighs, but your eyelids droop instead, looking at him as he looks at you as you drift off to sleep right there on your couch.
You wake up maybe an hour later, sitting up, and yawning, glancing at his dark window for a second before ambling your way to your bathroom.
You go to bed naked, sheets wrapped around you, too drowsy to worry about your modesty.
.
.
.
A/N: Happy Friday! Here is a photo reference for the dessert.
Warnings: Nothing much really, some smut, some angst, loads of dumbassery.
I'm waiting for you outside.' Is what he texts you on your first day back to work.
'Why?'
'Isn't it obvious?'
Oh, you hated him.
He looks fucking hot, because of course he does, dressed in his usual, but unbelievably attractive, work attire.
The bane of your existence that he is, gives you a nod of his head in greeting.
"I'm driving you to work."
The audacity.
You stop right in front of him, looking up at him evenly, trying your hardest not to smile, or look away, or look down at his lips-
"What makes you think, I want you to drive me to work?"
He returns your stare easily, and if you were any less angry with him, you would have folded.
"I know you don't feel safe, and I want to help you with that however I can."
"I didn't ask for your help, I'm fine on my own." You say obstinately.
A smile pulls on his face for a second, and you feel yourself get even angrier that he would find humor while you stare him down.
"I know you're fine on your own," he says, leaning into you.
You gulp at the praise, taking a step back, he guides you, corrals you, until your back is pressed against his car.
"I know how strong and how capable you are." He follows up, bracing one hand on the car right beside you, you glance down at it, observing the shine of his watch, feeling your heart vibrate rapidly in response to his closeness.
"I think, you're maybe one of the best in your fields- if not the best and I don't think there's much problems you can't fix."
"Uh-" You try to protest.
His other hand pressing against the car on the other side of you makes you shut up really quickly. You look up at him as he looms over you, the scent of jasmine filling your senses, his eyes are even, and dark, demanding your attention.
"But I know security, and your safety is very important to me. So get in the car, and let me at least drive you to work."
Your eyes drop down to his lips.
God, how you want to kiss him. Just throw caution to the wind and slant your mouth against his until you steal his hot breath with each slide of your tongue on his-
Shit. This was not the way you wanted to interact with him today. You wanted to be casual and indifferent, pull away and keep your distance, not think about jumping him the minute he got too close to you.
You knew how he would play this, gentle and earnest now, and then cold to you later. If whiplash was a person, you'd be staring right at him.
You still couldn't shake the way his words made you feel. The way he believed in you so easily made you want to melt into a hot, sticky puddle at his feet.
So you find some common ground, nodding your head in assent, watching him lean away from you. You turn, pulling the door open, and climbing into the passenger seat of his car without looking back.
It's a lot more torment than you can manage. The whole way there, you're thinking about how easy it would be to fuck him in the back seat, have him drop his pants and you'd lift your skirt and sink right down onto him. You wonder what kind sounds he'd make-
"Do you want to pick the music?" He asks easily, unlocking his phone and leaning it your way.
Your hands shake when you take it, picking a song you like and letting it play.
You study him intently, he keeps a straight face as the song plays.
It burns at you to the point where you have to ask.
"What do you think?" You ask evenly, trying your hardest not to ramble.
Do you like it? Do you hate it? I'm sorry if it's shit.
You don't understand why you need his approval so much. Why did it matter to you?
What was it about him, that made you want every ounce of attention he could give you?
"It's good. It's not my specific taste but I like it." He answers, glancing over at you.
You smile.
"It's really funny. I think I have the best music taste but also I'm so insecure about it too." You try to explain, beating yourself up after you say it.
You watch his mouth twitch in amusement.
"That's very cute."
You turn away to look out the window so that he doesn't see how wide you smile.
.
"I just noticed- you got your necklace back." Bily comments, as you sit across from him in his office.
You raise a hand, touching the panther.
"Yeah," You say with a smile, "Someone brought it back for me."
"I'm glad to hear it."
You swallow with a nod, eager to get back to discussing work, trying to reduce the amount of time you spend around him, worried that you'll just keep saying stupid shit.
.
He doesn't like the distance.
The physical chasm between you was hard enough to handle as is, but now you're actively trying to avoid him as much as possible at Anvil.
Sure, the drives to work kept you close, he was able to see you everyday, talk to you, even just a little.
But you'd taken to holding your tongue around him, smiling and nodding, or giving one word answers when necessary.
It was fucking agony.
He wanted that sweet girl back, the one that found difficulty in keeping quiet.
Billy suspected it was in part his fault. He doubted he was the most welcoming face, and he knew sometimes he came across dismissive when he was trying to tamp the beast down, his slipping self control could make him come across as irritable. There was also the guilty feeling in his chest when he got too close. He didn't want to devalue your work in any way.
But keeping you safe had become necessary.
With the robbery happening when he'd been dealing with the full moon, Billy realized that he'd have to be more vigilant.
New York could be so unsafe, and Billy would not let another hurt you.
He swallows angrily when images of the little scratches on your skin materialise in his head.
Killing those men had been necessary. Carving their faces up until they had been barely recognisable, leaving them in a place easily found by the target audience was detrimental.
The predator had been pleased with the shocked faces of those that had observed his work. The message had been clear; tread lightly, there was no criminal organisation out there that could keep anyone safe from him.
.
Billy wakes up when you say his name.
He blinks, sitting up in bed rubbing his eyes when he catches sight of you.
You're dressed in a satin nightdress, his hands clench into fists, eager to get his hands on the material.
He says your name, watches you smile at him as you get closer.
He's not wearing anything, only the black sheets tucked around his lower half protect you from seeing his hardening cock.
You don't seem to mind his state of undress, crawling into his bed, and not stopping until you're straddling his lap, right atop his covered cock.
He groans, and he watches you smile mischievously.
You lean closer, and Billy tilts his head up, closes his eyes, eager to kiss you.
All you do is press your forehead to his, rubbing your nose against the slant of his.
He says your name, a plea, an ask of desperation, begging you not to tease him.
You hum, little fingers wrapping behind his neck, a comforting hand on the edges of shredding his self control.
When he tilts his head up for a kiss, you move your head back.
Your fingers wander, exploring what's yours. Billy closes his eyes and surrenders himself to it, feels the trace of your gentle fingers over his collarbones.
He tilts his head back, all the weight of his torso propped onto his arms keeping him upright. He feels your fingers explore them too, carefully assessing each bicep, each line of his muscle.
He hopes you like it- the shape of his body- he hopes you like what you see.
He lets out a low groan when your fingers trace his chest, his skin tingles in the best way. He feels so open, vulnerable for you, and he can't fathom enough thought to build any walls against you and the way you make him feel.
He lets you explore his torso, eager fingers reaching behind to rub your soft hands against his back. His breath catches when he feels your nails claw against his skin for a brief moment.
He raises his head, tries to kiss you again, only to have you pull back with another teasing laugh.
Why were you punishing him? Hadn't he endured enough torment?
Apparently not, because in the next moment you drop your head to kiss his neck.
"Fuck." He grunts, tilting his head to give you more space to work, letting you kiss his neck to your heart's content.
You let out a hum of delight and his cock jumps, he loves the sounds you make.
You take it as an invitation, beginning to rock your hips against his gently, while you kiss his neck.
When kissing is not enough, he feels your teeth come out to play.
Perhaps you were a predator too.
Biting and licking and kissing his skin and all he wants to do is give in to you, let you take anything you wanted.
He just wanted to belong to you.
"I'm close." He warns, gasping as your hips speed up, doesn't remember any point in his life where he was this on edge from just someone touching him.
He can't fight it, fingers gripping your hair, pulling your head back so that he can press his lips to yours.
He wakes up, cock aching painfully.
It doesn't take much, just the dip of his right hand below the thin sheets, pretending that his rough palm was really your soft one, and stroking himself to completion easily.
His body heaves in air, post-orgasmic bliss easing the tension in his body.
He sits up, tosses the sheets off with his other hand and moves to clean himself up.
You're still asleep. He can see you through the open curtains of your room.
You'd started sleeping with them open, maybe a day or two now, and the beast hums, contented that he may have factored into you feeling safe in your own home.
You shift, pulling a pillow tightly into your body, tossing a lithe leg over it.
Billy smiles to himself, admiring you curled up, wishing he could be there with you.
He shakes his head, takes a deep breath. Your safety came first, and he was making steady progress on that- too much progress for him to stop now.
.
Sometimes he texts you at the end of the work day to tell you that he's waiting by his car for you. Other times, he shows up in your little office space, leaning against the door to look at you steadily until you notice him. Today, it's the former.
You've been doing this little dance for almost a week now, you're not sure how sustainable it is, but you're stubborn, and you refuse to indulge him in any kind of deeper interaction because you know he's just going to pull away again.
It was all muddled in your head, the way you felt about him, and the lengths you went to so that you could hide those feelings, the way he acted toward you, not saying a word to you in the elevator, but holding you so tight after you'd been attacked.
It was obviously, just better to pull away, which you had definitely been trying to do. You knew it would save you a lot of heartache later.
Unwilling to admit to yourself that maybe you were in heartache right now.
You almost fall when you see him.
He's bent over, foot propped against a little ledge built into the wall behind his car, running a soft cloth over the tip of his boot.
He's dressed in partial tactical clothing, tight shirt tucked into combat pants, and your mouth dries up at the very sight of him.
"Billy?" You call, as you make your way to him.
He raises his head, says your name in greeting.
When he catches your eyes roaming the expanse of his chest he looks down.
"Ran some combat sims today." He explains.
You nod, swallowing.
"Right." Is all you say, opening his car door and slipping inside without another word.
You let out a shaky breath.
Holy fuck was he hot. Surface of the sun scorching and even worse when dressed in attire that forced you to think about how he would look using a gun.
God, you squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease the ache inside of you. This definitely was not helping you pull away from him.
You startle a little when he opens the driver's side door and slips inside.
Your eyes are fixed directly forward, you hear him take a deep breath.
"How was work today?" He asks, his voice hitting a low timbre, still soft despite the rumble.
"Good," You reply, matching his soft tone, uncaring of how innapropriate it might be.
Your clit was aching too much for you to worry about appropriateness.
"I like solving problems." You follow up unnecessarily.
He hums, you squeeze your eyes shut when his car roars to life.
"Are you hungry? We can stop for something on the way home." Billy offers.
Home, because both of you were going to near the same destination.
"I'm okay." You answer tersely, "I'm gonna whip up something at home."
He nods, deep in thought.
"Is it okay if I stop? I'm not feeling to cook for myself today."
Your mouth parts, you turn to him. He glances at you when he notices your movement.
"I can- If- If you want- I'm making pasta and I always make too much-" Fuck fuck fuck, what were you doing? What happened to keeping your distance?
You take a deep breath to gather your thoughts.
"Would you like to come over for dinner? I'll make pasta. Or it's not a problem if you want to get something else-"
"-I'd like that." He interrupts, and you can't help the heat that flushes throught your body.
"Good." You nod in acceptance, turning away from him to face forward once again, pretending to be casual when really, you could feel the slippery glide of your arousal between your legs.
.
How many times does he have to fight himself, before it's too much?
Your scent fills the enclosed space of his car, your arousal so prominent he can near taste it in the air. It wraps around him, seeps into his every pore, torments him.
The beast rages.
Billy swallows, tightening his already white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel- a few more minutes of this and he's going to damage his car.
He glances over at you, you're typing animatedly into your phone, he studies your hair, memorises it, takes another deep breath.
He wonders how soft the skin of your bare thighs would be, he thinks about the way it would feel against his face.
He takes another deep breath at a traffic light, tries to be calm but the only air he can breathe is full of you.
"Are you allergic to anything?" You murmur, seemingly deep in thought.
He forces himself to think for a moment.
"Allergic- no, but I really hate green beans."
You hum, typing something into your phone.
"No green beans. Got it."
You accept it so easily, you don't ask why, and he likes that. He likes how easy you accept him.
"I don't like broccoli either, and cabbage is on thin ice."
At this, you give a little giggle, he smiles at the sound, feels himself be put at ease.
"I love broccoli, but I hate the way people make it seem that picky kids are a parent's worst nightmare. No one faults adults for being picky. I'm sorry if your parents made you feel bad for not liking what you don't like."
He sighs, blinks, doesn't want to turn the atmosphere sour with his past, but something inside of him itches for the comfort you would no doubt give.
"I don't really have parents." he says softly. He watches you turn to look at him from the corner of his eye.
"You don't?" You ask.
He shakes his head slowly, eyes fixed on the road as the traffic light turns green.
"I grew up in a group home, I don't know if my parents would have made me feel bad or not, but the people that took care of me definitely did." He ends with a humorous tone in his voice, trying somehow to lighten the mood.
He's hyperfixated on every breath you take as you process the information.
"I'm sorry." You finally say.
"It's-"
"-Are you really going to say it's alright? Was it actually? Did you feel safe and protected? Did you get to have toys and your favourite foods?"
Billy hadn't expected this. No one before had really prodded him after he'd given the brief overview.
"No." He says simply.
"Is that why you hate green beans?"
Right on the money.
"Yes." He answers, vaguely aware that he's shutting down, trying not to overshare his traumatising childhood.
"What's your favourite food?" You inquire softly.
He spares a glance in your direction.
You look at him evenly, Billy can tell your mind is already made up, despite his next attempts to change it.
"You don't have to-"
"-I know. I know I don't, but I want to. I know you're my boss, and maybe this is not the most appropriate thing, but maybe we can be friends too."
He couldn't fight the smile that pulls at his mouth even if he tried.
"Of course we can be friends." He murmurs, sparing another glance from the road to look at your face. Captivating in every way, blissful shelter, in a raging storm.
.
.
.
A/N: What song would you play for Billy that perfectly encapsulates your taste in music?
Mine is either Devil's Advocate by The Neighborhood or Take A Slice by Glass Animals
