Stalker
Posting out of order yet again, sorry!
This closes a gap - the first steps of a recently free Angel on a bumpy road that'll eventually lead to her revovery.
[Angel's story]
Doctor Tim Harris falls in love.
Content: BBU, conditioning, early recovery, predatory behaviour, stalking, very dubcon vibes, dubcon kiss.
The man stood in the shadows of the trees lining the narrow street in one of the worse parts of a better neighbourhood. Big houses with gardens just big enough to not let the curious neighbours too close, but too small for that air of being well-off that the adjacent streets could offer. One of the houses was under construction, from the looks of it had been for years, and it was the one next to it that Tim Harris was interested in.
The pattern of lights behind the windows suggested that the rooms had been made smaller, to accommodate more people. Like a boarding house, maybe. In a way of course, that's what it was.
A safehouse for runaway WRU pets. He knew where it was, because the owners - that probably wasn't a good word, the activists running it - were dangerously incautious. They brought the runaways to his practise, one or two a month, and he treated them after hours, because his ex - before she was his ex - had urged him to do something for the greater good. Things you do for love. And well, money. Of course, he let them pay him for it. He risked his appropriation after all, helping runaways hide their dirty pasts.
One of the volunteers left the house, calling something to say goodbye, and Tim withdrew a little further into the shadows.
He should double his fees, if it was so easy making that safehouse out. Maybe he'd think about that later.
Now, he wasn't here to gather information on pet lib. He was here to gather information on a pet.
Angel. 002238. He knew the number, because he'd looked at it so often, three sessions, until the black lines had faded and soon there'd be nothing left of the bar code.
She'd flirted with him all the time. Not let the pain deter her. He'd remarked to her, that other people cried during the procedure. She'd said that crying made her look less attractive, and she wanted to be at her best for him.
He couldn't stop thinking about her. Her soft, perfect skin, the freckles on her nose, those dark eyes that seemed so knowing and naive at the same time. When he'd asked her for a drink after their first session, the pet lib guy had looked at him like he was a creep and told him that she wasn't ready to consent. The second session, the guy had stayed in the room with them the entire time. That was the day Tim had followed them back home for the first time.
And today, in the last session, he'd managed to give her a message, lean in closely while placing the bandage around her wrist, trying hard not to be distracted by the smell of her hair. "Meet me, outside the house. 8."
She'd just smiled, and let her fingertips run over his hand.
He still shivered, remembering.
It was 8:20 already. But he was patient.
She'd show. He knew it. Her touch had held a promise.
There was light up in the room he'd figured was hers, first floor, second from the left, and he could see a shadowy figure move behind it. The curtains moved aside, the window swung open, and he recognised a halo of blond hair. Angel. Whoever had given her the name, they'd chosen perfectly.
The light in the room went off then, but he could see the open window in the dim street light. A long leg in short pants graciously swinging over the windowsill, another one, and there she was, climbing down the drain pipe. An angel, descending to meet him.
She landed on her feet silently, gaze running over the street, and he stepped forward into the light.
Her smile was as radiant as in his dreams. "Doctor Harris," she said. "You came for me."
"I did," he replied, cleared his dry throat. "Do they... do they lock you up in there?"
"They don't want us to go out at night. Not the newer ones, at least." She shrugged and looked back at the house over her shoulder. "They don't make sense. They say there are no rules, and then there are rules, but if we call them rules, it's wrong again."
"Do you..." The question sounded dumb, but it was half out already, and so Tim rolled with it. "Do you like rules?"
Angel looked at him funnily, thoughtful, with a cute crease between her brows.
"I don't think that's something to like. Rules are necessary. Discipline is necessary. How can I be good, if nobody tells me what to do to be good?"
"You still climbed out of your window, even after they told you to stay inside the house."
"You told me to come out and meet you." The gaze she cast him, half hidden under long lashes, made his heart skip a beat. "I obeyed."
She was taller than him, he realised, even on bare feet, but there was something she did, with her shoulders, or the way she tilted her head, that made her appear shorter, made her look up at him. He liked that.
She kept his gaze still, waiting for a reply. There was one, he knew it, tasted it on his tongue already. Ask any of the pet lib people in the house behind her, it would be the wrong one, for many reasons.
But he wasn't them, and she wasn't just any pet, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and she looked at him in a way none of his former girlfriends ever had.
He gently rested a hand to her cheek, let himself get lost in her gaze for another second, before he spoke, voice rough.
"Good girl."
She all but melted into his kiss.
