14/12: Hand Holding & Dry Humping - Billy Washington
Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: grinding, p in v sex, horniness as a result of drinking alcohol
12 Days of Smuff Masterlist
Christmas was always a difficult time of year for Billy.
To most, it was a happy, cheerful time, when families would gather, stuff themselves with as much meat as they could manage, drink as much wine as they wanted without stumbling into the garden shed (as his dad did the year before, to which his mum still hasn’t let him forget) and pass out on the sofa before the King’s speech could even come on tele.
To Billy, as with most years he gathered at his parent’s house, it was just another opportunity for his parents, sister and extended family to badger him with the usual abundance of questions.
How’s the job hunt going? Not well? Aw, well there’ll be something out there for you. Just have to keep at it.
No girlfriend yet?
You’re still looking for a job?
Lana not here yet? She’s doing well isn’t she?
He felt that if he had to go through yet another year of it, he’d go ballistic.
Aunties. Uncles. Cousins. He hugged them all on arrival, but felt very little.
But this year was different.
There was an element of protection she provided. A buffer, so to speak. And Billy being Billy, didn’t want to lean on her for that buffer, but was relieved all the same when she didn’t mind.
How did she do it?
How did she smile through it? Remain polite, despite the fact that it was socially sapping and emotionally draining to be around this many new people at once, all bombarding her with questions.
She was the shiny new item to a mischief of magpies, and all his aunties were babbling like turkeys at her, taking all the attention away from him. To his relief.
He watched her with a warmth to his face, a can of cheap beer in one hand, leaning against the radiator in the hallway to warm his backside.
She entertained them with brief, vague answers, but still somehow managed to keep that smile to her face he loved so much. Perhaps he was just wavy from the alcohol, he couldn’t tell. But he did realise he was flushing with embarrassment when her eyes clapped on him from across the room, and he realised he’d been caught staring.
His heart rate skyrocketed as she excused herself and crossed the room like she was floating, the Christmas cracker tissue paper crown was still somehow perched on the top of her head, whether she realised it or not.
“What you doing here by yourself, Wash?” she smiled.
He’d almost forgotten to move his lips to reply, his face was so hot.
“Making use of the central heating to warm your arse?” she prodded with a cheeky smile, turning to stand beside him, pressing her own back to the radiator and sighing as the warmth spread through her body from the middle outwards.
“Have my aunties bored you to death?” he asked, smirking beneath the rim of his can as he sipped.
She laughed through her nose, “That obvious?” she smiles, “Nah, it’s alright. Much better company than my house on Christmas Day, anyway. At this point, my dad’d be a snoring mess on the sofa and mum’d be fretting about Boxing Day lunch”.
In his alcohol-addled state, the raising of Billy’s eyebrows was a bit unmatched, alongside the lazy smile on his face, “I can picture that”.
She raised her own eyebrow at the way he seemed to subtly sway, despite being stood.
“What number’s this?” she asked with a knowing smirk.
And she watched with amusement as the cogs inside Billy’s head visibly turned, trying to form a memory of how many cans he’d swiped from his dad’s fridge before now.
“Um…4? I think?”
“You think?”
He pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh out of embarrassment.
The heat once again rose to his chiselled features, something she would never not find endearing about him. Sometimes it was worth saying something risque or embarrassing just to see this beanpole of a man blush.
His baby blue’s glimmered with drunkenness as he looked over at her, for a moment searching her face as if he was ticking off all boxes that were labelled with her features. Her eyes. Her lips. The gentle slant of her cheeks. The shape of her nose. How her dimples sank in when she smiled lovingly at him.
He was sure nobody in his life had ever looked at him the way she did.
It made him feel good and also like he wanted to hide at the same time.
“You wanna get home soon?”
He nodded without even thinking. God, he fucking loved her for that. The way she was able to know when he was socially complete without him having to say it.
Leaving in any British household, especially on Christmas Day, is an event in itself.
It takes twenty minutes minimum, to pack up all the things you have, piling the presents you’ve received into various bags for life, and giving a ceremonial hug and a peck on the cheek to all who are still awake and present. Often people who you’d circle back to once you finally made it to the door, graced with yet another hug goodbye.
It was solemnly enchanting, the clear roads on Christmas Day, the ice that clung to the side of the roads, and the grit that coated the middle. Christmas music blared through her radio, muffled by static, and about the sixtieth time that BBC Radio 1 had played ‘All I Want For Christmas is You’. And they’d both laughed, delirious from over-socialising, when she’d realised only halfway through the drive back home, that she was still wearing the shoddy tissue paper crown.
“Was Santa good to you this year?” she’d asked jokingly, briefly turning her head from the red light.
He huffed a laugh, “He’s about to be when we get home”.
She rolled her eyes, shifting the car into first, but unable to help the smile that rose to her face.
Billy’s flat was donned with the basics of Christmas decorations.
Fairy lights along the headboard of the bed, a tiny plastic tree on the side table, several tea lights along the TV stand and finally, the pièce de résistance, the scented faux pine candle sat in the middle of the coffee table. Lit and extinguished this morning, but still managed to fill the room with a pleasant woody fragrance.
Billy talked big when he was a bit drunk. But she knew him better than that.
And though Billy might have wanted to tear all her clothes off, pull her to the nearest flat surface and let her know all he’d wanted for Christmas, all he was able to do was snuggle in behind her on the sofa, throw one arm around her waist and kiss the top of her head as his brain swam.
It was just noise mostly, something to fill the comfortable silence as the late afternoon became late evening, the tea lights illuminating the front room with a pleasant atmosphere. She was sure he’d fallen asleep, the hand that was over her middle now firmly in hers, his long digits intertwined with her small ones. Not that she minded. She simply held his hand, using her other to scroll through her phone with the volume turned down so he wouldn’t wake up.
She clicked her phone off when she felt his arm tighten around her middle, tugging her back closer to him and turned her head up to smile at him, “Billy”.
His eyes were closed as if half asleep, his dark blonde eyelashes moving to betray the fact that he was indeed awake, but he only hummed, his hips chasing hers to grind against her backside. The alcohol had fuelled his desire, but had hindered his actual ability to act on said desires, and he made a noise of frustration when his body hadn’t reacted the way he wanted.
“...‘m sorry…”, he mumbled quietly, speech slurred endearingly.
“For what?”
“...’ts my little soldier…can’t…”
She had to press her lips together to stifle a laugh, not used to or remembering Billy being this loose-lipped under the influence of alcohol. All the while he was still pressing his soft and clothed length against your backside, willing his ‘little soldier’ to life, to no avail.
It was both endearing and amusing, that even in the state Billy was in he was trying, and god he really was trying, to initiate intimacy, fully knowing that the likelihood was that he wasn’t going to be able to. Much much too drunk to even think straight.
“It’s alright, Billy, just go to sleep, ok?”
He huffed much like a child would when you refused him something.
“...but it’s Christmas…”
“Sex on Christmas Day is no better than sex on any other day. Just get some sleep, okay?”
He sighed, slumping his head onto the cushion in something akin to defeat, fingers still threaded through hers on her stomach. But not a moment later, she heard his steady breaths and threw the blanket over him as well as her and laid her head down as well.
Waves of consciousness kept pulling her to the surface, a pleased sound falling from her lips as she parted them, feeling all warm both against her flesh and tugging in her gut as well.
She could feel Billy’s hot puffs of air against her neck and ear, the hair there reacting to his quickened breaths as they stood on end, her brain failing to realise quickly enough what was going on, and why her boyfriend lay behind her, was breathing so quickly.
That was until she heard him whimper, a stuttered moan following it.
“Mm…Billy?..”
Her eyelashes fluttered open, and instead of the warm ropes of sleep tugging her down it was something else, something hardpressing against her and chasing friction. His grip on her hands was so tight, his knuckles were almost white from the effort of holding back.
By now the candles had all burned out, save one, and the sky outside was pitch black, with the smallest flurry of snow decorating the darkness.
Hours had gone by.
She jumped when she felt his hands, colder than she expected, dip beneath her jumper and shirt, pressing his large palm against the flesh of her stomach, his little finger teasingly sliding beneath the waistband of her underwear.
“Sorry - babe, I need you…”
She could feel how impossibly hard he was through his jeans, chasing friction with every cant of his hips, using one hand to unzip them with difficulty as his other held onto her like she might disappear.
Freeing his length from his boxers, Billy almost moaned aloud when he saw that she was pulling her own jeans down as well, having woken more than aroused at the idea he was grinding against her searching for pleasure. So he made use of his hand and turned her face towards him, enveloping her soft, puffy lips with his own in a warm, wet kiss, not pausing for a moment to think about anything else other than having her right now, as he’d dreamt of doing since Christmas morning.
She nearly gasped when he slid his thick manhood into her, sheathing himself inside her in one, smooth confident movement, as if nothing, nothing, was going to stop him from basking in the warmth she offered.
In this position, with her thighs squeezed together, and his hand on her hips, pulling her back to him with each desperate thrust, it felt like so much more. And every blow to the sweet spot that lay deep inside her felt so utterly maddening, that her brain, still rising from sleep, felt like it was being shaken around.
She came with a choked cry, her grip on his wrist where his nimble fingers were applying frustratingly little pressure to her bud as he continued to piston into her. And when she was so close to begging him to stop from overstimulation, Billy leaned back a little, his teeth grazing against her neck and one hand palming her backside to push himself deeper as he too came with a long, broken whine.
His chest moved against her back with his heavy breathing, sucking in air into his lungs after the craze he’d just fallen over.
Billy pressed kisses to her neck and jaw in a sort of admiration, moving slightly with his length still buried inside her, eliciting a whimper from her as well as the friction.
She felt his eyelashes move against her cheek when he opened his eyes, “Did we really just shag with Die Hard on in the background?” he chuckled breathily.
This time, she couldn’t hold back her tired laugh, swatting his arm playfully, “you’re such a dickhead.”
He smiled wearily, turning her face once more to capture her swollen lips in a kiss, more tender this time without the urgency of desire.
“What was that about Christmas Day sex?” he prodded.
She furrowed her brows and double-tapped her phone.
Author’s Note: How are we feeling after the photoshoot, pals? Are we okay? Have we gone insane? Have we gone completely feral? It came just at the right time for the epilogue…
This is the last instalment of Come Back To Me. Thank you all so much for your support with this story - as I have said before, sharing my writing has been very nerve wracking but you have all made it so worth it! Your kind words have meant the world, and I feel much more at ease to share more in the future.
Billy and Ida occupy such a lovely little corner of my mind, and I must admit I’m sad that this fic is over. I’m glad that my version of Billy has been received so well, and that Ida has been so accepted by you all! Maybe in the future, I’ll write more about the pair of them. Send any suggestions, requests or ideas my way! Here goes…
Word Count: 5.6K
Billy stepped off the train and was met by the gentle smell of foxglove, campion and cow parsley. May, ten months after Cranstead Fields. Spring in Woodwell was in full bloom; bunting was strung from the village pub, swifts split the air with their wings, and scent of suncream was brought in with the season’s first tourists.
Billy breathed deeply the fresh air, shouldered his bag and followed the few other passengers that had left the train to the station steps. Flicking his glasses off his head and onto the sharp bridge of his nose, he rounded the corner into the warmth of the sunlight and began the short walk home. A sharp whistle rang through the evening air. Billy was grinning before he even turned around.
“Where you heading?” Her hair was lit by the setting sun. Billy watched insects flutter in the hazy light around her, and occasionally a robin or blackbird darted out to feast on them. Billy knew they were catching dinner before settling in for the night, but it looked as though she had summoned them herself. His wild thing. As she leant against the door of her car, a seductive smirk played on her lips, whether she knew it or not.
“Got a girl waiting at home,” he replied, walking slowly towards her.
“Lucky thing,” the woman snaked her arms around Billy’s neck and leant against the car, bringing him with her. Billy laughed as he kissed her. He pulled away and she pulled him back. He laughed once more, kissing her between chuckles.
“You’re insatiable.”
“If you only knew,” she smiled against his lips. “How was it?”
“I fucking hate the city.” Billy stood back to admire her. “You look nice.” She blushed and flattened her skirt a little. He moved towards the passenger side but was stopped by her voice.
“You’re up, big boy.” She threw him the car keys and laughed brightly, touching his arm as she passed him by. “You feeling up to it?” Billy kissed her cheek and nodded. He opened the door to the driver’s side, glancing around at the spring scene. Taking a deep breath, he sat down. The leather of the steering wheel creaked as he gripped it. He checked the mirrors, checked his seatbelt, and leant over to check the glovebox. A hand snapped out to grip his wrist.
“You’re ok,” she said soothingly, rubbing the skin with her thumb. Billy swallowed, nodded almost imperceptibly, and started the engine.
*
After the events at Cranstead Fields, Billy wouldn’t go near a car. Couldn’t. The smell of leather or petrol made him gag. A single thought about driving saw him dissolve into a sweating, sobbing frenzy. For a while, he got the bus, train or even walked between his parents’ house, Ida’s flat and his weekly therapy sessions at the hospital.
Through it all, he and Ida talked about leaving the city. Sofia and Faisal had launched into their wedding plans, and Ida offered to move out so that they may begin married life alone. They had protested, but really, Ida was keen to start her own life. She had never felt quite at home in London. She craved the wild intensity of the country. Of the coast. To be bustled about by the wind and rain rather than the city dwellers.
Billy, too, found London life stifling. There were too many painful memories lurking around every corner now. He remembered once telling Ida that she had outgrown him, outgrown their life on the outskirts of London. But now, he felt he had joined her. Every day he felt the tips of his fingers yearning to reach out and grab something. What that was he wasn’t sure, until Ida burst into the flat one day beaming from ear to ear. A heritage charity based near Dungeness had heard about her work from one of her PhD tutors. Impressed by her dedication to teaching, they offered her a position and cottage in nearby Woodwell. Not a month before Ida earned her PhD and they moved to the cottage, Has appeared on the Washington’s doorstep. Was Billy around? He had recently left the service citing “bad knees and enough adrenaline to take him to the next millennium” and had started a charity using sport to help rehabilitate military veterans. And so, Billy found himself studying sports therapy with funding from Has’ charity while helping veterans find community in the form of weekly football matches.
The winter months passed them by in a blur of packing, teaching and exploring. Billy hadn’t been able to face the two-hour drive from London to the village, and so when Sofia and Faisal finished helping them load the moving van, he boarded the train and met them at little Woodwell station. He had felt ashamed, childish and heartily embarrassed. Recognising the first signs of Billy drifting too far into his own mind, his three closest friends boosted his ego by asking him to carry the heaviest boxes.
Slowly, with the help of Ida, Billy was gradually reintroduced to driving. When they first moved to the village, Ida drove them to nearby beauty spots so that they might explore, fuelled by picnics or flasks of soup. Occasionally, Billy drove. Only short distances, dropping Ida at the train station or grocery shop. His first big journey was to Dungeness, thirty minutes away. They stopped three times to calm Billy’s nerves and Ida had driven back, but boy did she reward him afterwards. When spring first arrived, Ida took him to a drive-in cinema to see Casablanca. Only last weekend, they’d been to watch dirt track racing with Lana and Thom. Ida was determined to rewrite his memories of driving with happy ones. Today was no exception.
*
“Mum and dad send their love,” Billy said, his arm resting against the open car window. He looked at Ida briefly and winked. Not long after Cranstead, Ida visited the Washingtons and apologised for her behaviour the day of Billy’s birthday. She still stood by what she said. Perhaps, just not the way she said it. Water under the bridge. That’s what Jeff had said. Ever since he nearly lost Billy, he was a changed man. Quieter, gentler.
“Did you see Gran?”
“I did, actually. She was heading out with her fancy man!”
“Maybe we’ll have another wedding to go to!” Ida laughed, but the idea of her grandmother finding happiness after all she had been through filled her heart with starlight. “Turn left here.” Billy did as he was told, mind flooding with images of Ida in a white dress. They turned onto a narrow country lane lined with high hedges.
“Where are you taking me, woman?”
“It’s a surprise! Left again at the end of the lane.” Ida reached behind her to grab her bag, and Billy swallowed hard when the slit of skirt parted. She had gained some happiness weight since their move to the cottage, and fuck he loved it on her. The flesh of her thighs looked so soft and beautifully warm. She pulled down the passenger mirror, applied some lip balm and teasingly puckered her lips at him.
Billy barked a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”
Ida wound down the window and Billy saw, from the corner of his eye, her hair whip about her face in the breeze. He placed a hand on her thigh, and Ida felt the first frisson of excitement fizzle there. “See that track, up the hill?” She rasped, fighting to keep her emotions in check. “Just up there.” Billy removed his hand to change gear. Ida could still feel the heat of where it had rested on her. The car hobbled over the track and broke through a clearing of trees. Woodwell came into view at the bottom of the valley. From their vantage point on the hill, the ocean could be seen on the horizon, hazy in the evening light. The swifts were still screeching overhead, and Billy watched as a few deer pranced in a field below.
“Ida-”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it!? I told that old lady in the pub, you know, the one that always sits by the fire? Never takes off that fur coat? Well, I told her that we were new to the area and exploring, and she told me about this place. Apparently, it’s the best place to see the stars and no one comes up here!” Before Billy could open his mouth to reply, Ida dashed out of the car and round to the boot. She opened it up and came back with blankets, pillows and a flask of hot chocolate. “It’s not quite summer yet, hey?”
Billy gazed at her. His girlfriend. His best friend. His Ida. “I love you.”
Ida stopped pouring the hot chocolate and looked up at him. “Where did that come from?”
“I’m just making up for lost time.” And it was true. Billy was making up for all the lost I love yous he should have given Ida over the years.
“I love you too.” Her breath caught. His smile barely left his beautiful face these days. “I didn’t think it was possible to love you as much as I do, but it just keeps growing.”
“Don’t be soft,” he laughed, though his eyes watered and his hand moved to cradle her face and bring her into a tender kiss.
For an hour or so they sat with their seats reclined, watching the sun descend beyond the sealine and stars rise to freckle the navy sky. They spoke about plans for the cottage. Ida wanted to paint the door red; she had always dreamed of a house with a red door. Billy had already made work on the garden, planting the sweet pea seeds Gwen had given them and the nasturtiums that hung in baskets by the door. Billy had plans to build Ida a little reading nook at the far end of the garden, under the willow tree. The reason was selfish. Ida loved to read, but he loved watching her read more. The way her mouth twitched into a small smile, or tears glazed her eyes. The unusual positions she sat in, legs propped up against the table while her hair dangled over the back of a chair. No matter how closely Billy would come to know Ida, she forgot the world and herself when she was reading.
Every now and again, Billy turned on the radio to see what music was playing. When Say You Love Me played he sang along, and Ida had to fight every urge to kiss him senseless. The night was dark now, the only light coming from the moon, stars and dim car dashboard. Ida poured the last of the hot chocolate into their flasks and handed one to Billy. She watched his lips curve around the cup.
“I’m so proud of you, Billy.”
He smiled. “What for?”
“For so many things. But today, the driving.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he finished the last of his drink, placed it in the footwell and reclined once more in his seat, cushioned by pillows and blankets. Ida did the same, lying on her side to look at him. “’Rewriting the memory’ for me.” He finished, quoting her.
Ida’s voice was low when she replied, not once looking away from his face. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
Goosebumps of anticipation spread over Billy’s skin, and suddenly he felt shy. “It’s getting cold,” he whispered, though he knew full well his goosebumps weren’t caused by the chill air.
“I’ll warm you up.”
Billy swallowed.
In the reclined passenger seat, Ida leant on her elbow. Her face was still turned towards Billy, and she was thankful that the red light of the car was dim; she didn’t want him to see the nerves so brazenly decorating her cheeks. What he had said was right, Ida was insatiable. She had always loved sex, even more so now that she had Billy, and Billy’s body. But part of Ida was terrified by that side of her. She had always struggled to reckon people’s view of her as serious and studious with the free and lusty person she knew she could be. It was something she so often read in her books, sadly; women have minds or bodies, not both. She pushed the thought away. She had been waiting for this all day, had planned it for longer, and nerves were not going to ruin it. Ida pulled one of the pillows between the reclined seats so that she wouldn’t fall into the well between the two. She really had planned this. Ever so slowly, she leant towards Billy. He tried to keep composed but his eyes widened, just a little, and a bolt of confidence shot through Ida.
“You’ve been so good,” she whispered in his ear. Ida ran her nose down his neck, saw his pulse quicken and bit the taut skin of his collarbone before running her tongue back up his to his ear. “So, so good.”
“Fuck,” Billy’s breath staggered. Ida leant her arm against the head rest of Billy’s seat and lowered herself so that her breasts pressed against his chest, bringing her lips to his in an open, languid kiss. Billy hummed when her hot tongue skirted over his lower lip. She pulled back. Through heavily lidded eyes, he watched her gaze as it flickered hungrily to his lips. She ran her tongue over them once again but gave him nothing more. As Billy raised his head to chase her kisses, he caught sight of her hands untying the knot that held her skirt together. Ida had worn it intentionally; this was the same outfit she wore that first night when Billy turned up at the flat, rain-soaked and hungry for her. The thin fabric fell away, leaving Ida in her simple top and a pair of lace knickers that barely covered the ample flesh of her bottom. Her body, exposed to the cold, tensed and Billy found his voice.
“I’ve not seen these before,” Ida swung her leg over his hip as he said this, and his hands flew to her waist. She hovered over him, arms either side of his head.
“Well, you’ve been such a good boy,” she smirked. “You deserve a reward.”
Billy’s hips involuntarily bucked, desperate to meet hers. Ida laughed and, agonisingly slowly, pressed her clothed core to Billy’s hips. He moaned as she ground against him. She could feel just how painfully hard he had become through the rough fabric of his jeans.
“Already hard and I’ve barely touched you.” Billy whimpered as she dragged her core over his bulge. The grip he had on her tightened as he helped to rake her hips across his. Ida moaned at the friction the rough fabric caused on her centre. Continuing to roll her hips against Billy, she took the hem of her top and pulled it over her head. She felt a rush of power as Billy’s pupils blew wide with lust. He reached out a hand to cup one of her full breasts, the bare flesh warm under his hand, its pink nipple hardening instantly as his fingers ghosted over it. Ida rolled her hips once more, the action pushing her breasts further into his touch. Billy reached to grab the other, and he marvelled at how perfectly they filled his hands. Ida moaned, tipping her head back and rubbing her clothed pussy needily against him.
“Fuck, Ida.” His large hands trailed down her sides and came to rest on her thighs. He gripped her hard, holding her in place against him. Billy watched as she lifted her arms to tie back her hair. He didn’t think he could get any harder but this angle granted him the perfect view of the curve of her breasts, and he watched as they bounced a little with the movement of her tying her hair.
“Your tits are incredible,” he whispered, smirking. Ida giggled and rolled her hips to silence him. Billy’s head fell back against the head rest and he scrunched his eyes shut. His arousal was beginning to hurt. “Ida. Please.” Without warning, her weight disappeared from his hips. I didn’t want her to stop! Billy’s eyes flew open to be met with Ida’s face a hair’s breadth from his.
“Patience, my love.” She kissed him again, this time with hunger. She wound her hands into his hair and tugged. She rubbed her body across Billy’s. She moaned wantonly into his mouth, and Billy was seeing stars. When Ida broke away to bite at his neck and rub her hand across the swollen bulge of his trousers, he almost sobbed.
“No, no don’t go!” He was desperate now, pleading as he watched her return to her seat, kneeling to face him. Ida slid a hand into her own underwear, lips parting as she used her fingers to release some of her arousal. Billy watched, frozen, as Ida pleasured herself opposite him. He stared with burning intensity as one hand worked at her core, the other massaging one of her pink nipples. Each whimper and moan from Ida’s lips sent Billy further into madness and his breath became ragged. All those lonely years of moaning her name shamefully as he pleasured himself, of keeping his sinful thoughts at bay when she didn’t know he was watching her closely. To think now, that she had always wanted him as much, and that he could induce this kind of reaction in her only made him love her more. Want her more.
“Take them off,” Ida commanded breathily, indicating to his trousers. Billy fumbled with the button and zip of his jeans. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, he shoved them roughly to his feet along with his boxers. His cock was freed and Ida felt her core clench. It was rock hard, the tip swollen and glistening with precum. She wanted nothing more than to have him inside her, but that wasn’t part of the plan. Yet. Billy’s breath hitched, his mind dizzy. Bending forward, Ida brought her face to his length and ran her tongue its shaft.
“Oh fuck,” Billy’s head flew against his seat, then snapped backto watch Ida work him. She ran her tongue along him a few more times, savouring the scent of his arousal as she did so. Spit coated her lips and, lit by the red light of the car, her eyes bore a wild glint as they stared into his. She looked like she was going to devour him. It occurred to Billy that she probably would, and his stomach twisted with excitement. No sooner had Billy come to this realisation were Ida’s lips on him and he gripped the seat belt with white-knuckle focus. The sensation of her hot mouth around his cock caused his hips to buck and she hummed with pride, the vibrations sending pleasure straight to Billy’s balls. He was transfixed as Ida bobbed her head, hollowed out her cheeks and took him into her mouth as deeply as she could.
“I swear to God every man dreams of this.”
Ida released him from her mouth and smiled. Pure and proud and so eager to please. She wrapped a small hand around him and pumped his length a few times, watching as precum dripped from his tip. She brought her tongue to lick it away from his slit and enveloped him with her swollen lips once again. “You taste so good,” she said when she next broke for air, before going back for more. Every now and then, she would stop to sing more praise between ministrations. “You’re so big,” “Your cock’s so pretty,” “I can’t wait to have you inside me”. That last almost had Billy spilling into her mouth. His chest heaved with staggered breaths, the act doing nothing to ease his light-headedness. A few more times Ida swirled her tongue along the tip of his shaft, her hand working at its base. When she finally released him with a sloppy pop, a trail of saliva connected his cock to her mouth and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Billy brought his hands to rub his face, as though he were dreaming.
Ida’s plan was to drag his pleasure out for as long as possible, but my God did he make it hard for her. Watching him, a panting, quivering mess before her, did nothing to quell the throbbing between her legs. Sitting back in her chair she hastily removed her underwear and straddled Billy’s hips. Ida grabbed him by the shirt and yanked so that he was forced to sit up.
“Take this off.” Billy obeyed. He discarded his shirt and brought his hands to run along Ida’s sides. Ida, in turn, ran her hands along his chest. The toned muscle, each little freckle, the sprinkling of hair and the chain that hung around his neck. Her core throbbed again. “Are you ready for your reward?” Billy nodded eagerly. Excitement curled in both of their cores. Hands moving to grip her behind, he helped guide her as she lowered herself onto him. It took everything for Billy not to thrust up into her. For a moment, the pair paused; Ida’s mouth open, Billy’s own lips parted as he watched himself disappear within her. The tight heat of her pussy overwhelmed him momentarily, and he bit his lip to contain the whimper that threatened to escape him. Instead, he focused on Ida. Her brows were tight with concentration, lips parted as she sank further onto his cock. When he was fully inside her, she shuddered. “Billy,” she breathed. “You feel amazing.” They kissed each other desperately. Billy was silent for a while, utterly intoxicated by Ida. No woman had ever loved him this way. He understood how he could let people down with his actions, this last year had shown him that, but that was his doing and under his control. And yet, whenever he had opened his heart to someone before, shown them the most vulnerable parts of him, as he was in this moment with Ida, they were unsatisfied and unsatiated. Near the end of their relationship, after yet another loveless encounter with Becky, he snapped.
“Why bother when you detest being near me? Why not go and find someone else to fuck?” He spat bitterly at her.
“Shut up, Billy.”
“Don’t talk to me like that!”
“It’s not my fault you’re a dreadful fuck. You’re mind is always elsewhere. With her.”
“No it’s not-”
“Maybe we’d both enjoy it more if you imagined I was Ida.” She said nastily. In that moment, Billy wanted to hurt her. How dare she sully Ida’s name like that. Drag her into their mess.
“Get out.”
Ida ran her hands through Billy’s blond hair. “Hey, are you ok?”
“S’good,” Billy swallowed. “It’s good. Please don’t stop.” Ida raised her hips before bringing them down on him. Billy groaned as she sank on to him over and over, any thoughts of Becky and his worthlessness fading. The slow pace that Ida tried to set didn’t last long. Every flex of Billy’s muscles as he held on to her, every grunt that rumbled through his chest drove Ida into a frenzy and she wildly slammed her hips onto him. Heat from their bodies steamed up the cool windows of the car, and sweat was forming on Billy’s forehead. He frowned, jaw clenched as he focused on Ida’s body. Her plump flesh glistened with sweat, a few beads running between the valley of her breasts which bounced mesmerically as she fucked him. Her hair, still tied up, was coming down around her face and plastered to her cheeks. From this position, Billy could just about see himself disappearing into her with every thrust, her slick arousal coating their thighs.
“What’s that grin for?” Ida panted as she looked down at him. An idea had popped into Billy’s head. In one fluid movement, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled himself to a sitting position. Ida made the most of this new closeness and kissed the underside of his sharp jaw. Billy smiled and kissed the side of her head, before reaching behind her.
“What are you doing?” she asked again.
“Patience, my love.” He echoed. Still holding her steady, Billy reached his hand for the rear-view mirror, angling it down. “Perfect,” he whispered to himself before laying back in his seat. “Keep going,” he nodded to her. Ida looked over her shoulder, and at the mirror, before turning back to him.
“You dirty boy,” she smirked. He huffed a laugh back.
“Move,” he whispered.
“Only if you say please,” Ida whispered back, rocking her hips just a little.
“Please.” Ida gripped onto Billy’s shoulders for purchase and resumed the quick pace of her hips. Billy’s eyes travelled from her breasts to the column of her exposed neck as she tipped her head back, to the rear-view mirror. There, he watched the ripple of Ida’s backside with every slam of her hips. The moan that escaped Billy was obscene, as was Ida’s when his hands gripped the flesh of her cheeks and pulled her harder onto him. How he wished he had moved the side mirrors before the condensation settled on the windows. Seeing her from every angle awoke the animal in him, and soon, Ida was no longer in control. Billy grabbed Ida roughly and pulled her flush against him. She squeaked in surprise, and Billy brought his foot up to brace it above the footwell. This new angle gave him greater control over the harshness of his thrusts and the pace of their fucking. As he took one of her breasts in his mouth and resumed pounding into her heat, Ida cried out. Billy brought a hand to hold her waist down on him, and the other ran gently up her back to hold her neck. Ida sighed at his touch and he released her breast from his mouth. Billy ran his thumb across her bottom lip. Bliss was etched on her face. She took his thumb into her mouth and sucked gently.
“Oh my god, Ida-” He removed his hand to kiss her fervently. “You take me so well.” Ida whimpered against his lips. “It’s like you were made just for me.”
“Billy,” his last admission sent joy straight to her centre and pleasure to her core. “Billy, I’m close.” His thrusts sped up and the hand that had caressed her face found its way to her sensitive bundle of nerves. Anything for his Ida. He grazed his thumb over her clit and Ida’s hips bucked unsteadily. She pressed her forehead to his as she ground herself harder on him, desperate for any friction she could find. “Harder,” she moaned. Billy gripped her waist so hard that she knew she’d bruise. One hand on the steamy window, the other on his chest, Ida forced herself frantically down on him. The car was creaking now, though the sound was barely audible over the slap of their skin and lusty moans. Billy’s hips juddered, his pace becoming sloppy. It was over for Ida the second Billy released a few deep grunts with every thrust into her. Blinding heat spread through her body, every inch of exposed skin crackling with electricity. She cried out, tensing around Billy as an earth-shattering orgasm washed over her. Through the haze of her climax, she heard him rasp her name and felt the heat of his seed leak out of her. Looking down through half-lidded eyes, she watched him shudder beneath her, eyes tight shut, biting down on one hand while the other braced against her belly. They stilled, both shaking as their paroxysms of pleasure died away.
“I love you,” Ida said simply, smiling down at him. Billy giggled.
“I love you too.” When he giggled again, Ida joined in. His happiness was infectious. Billy patted his chest and she lay there while he remained seated within her. A few minutes passed while they caught their breath.
“The lady at the pub told you about this place?” Ida hummed a yes. “I’ll have to tell her thank you.”
*
Woodwell, a year to the day that Ida saved Billy’s life. Having left the car at the end of the lane, Ida walked to her and Billy’s little cottage laden with flowers and a cake fresh from the bakery. The pink evening sun was still warm, and Ida welcomed it on her face. From over the clematis border Ida heard music and, rounding the corner, found Billy sat on the front step with her Grandad’s guitar. A glass of beer was forgotten by his feet as he strummed, the chickens digging up weeds happily around him.
“Hey you,” she said softly. He looked up at the sound of her voice and smiled. “Give us a hand.” Ida gestured to the flowers, which Billy took and carried the table in the garden. There was still a lot of work to do on the cottage, with wood and tools stacked against Billy’s worktable. But for today, it would do. Just like at The Swan, Billy had strung fairy lights from the trees. The table was set with glasses and a few bottles of wine, and next door’s cat was already curled on one of the seats, enjoying the last of the day’s sun.
“How long until everyone gets here?” Ida was determined that today would not be one of unhappy introspection and had invited their families over to spend it with them.
“Lana and Thom should be here in about half an hour with Sofia and Faisal. I think mum and dad are bringing your gran for about 6ish?”
“We’ll have to be quick then.” She winked and ran into the house. Billy watched her go, stunned momentarily before coming to his senses. Dropping the flowers hastily on the table, he sprinted across the yard, scaring the chickens and slamming the red door behind him.
“You alright, my love?” Val had asked Ida when they arrived later. She took Ida’s face in her hands and examined her red cheeks and the slight sheen on her forehead. “Your colour’s up a bit.”
“It’s all this country air,” Gwen said from behind her.
“Something like that,” added Sofia, causing Lana to cackle.
“Hush,” Ida whispered to her friends, placing the cake on the table. She watched as everyone began to assemble around the her. The clink of glasses and plates took up. Lana and Sofia continued to giggle, Billy was making Thom and Faisal laugh, and Gwen and Val were chatting about the garden. Jeff sat in a chair at the end of the table, looking around just as Ida was. When they caught each other’s eye, they smiled gently at each other. Here were their favourite people, happy and altogether. That was enough for them.
Ida dashed into the house for her camera. She hadn’t forgotten, not this time. Unlike all her other photos, she had already picked out a frame for this picture. She stood in the doorway that led from the kitchen into the garden and raised her camera, snapping everyone before they realised she was there. None but billy heard the click of the camera. He looked up, and Ida was quick to take the picture. Her Billy, smiling that lopsided, boyish smile, his hair ruffled and glowing gold in the summer sun. Looking at her as if no one else was around. As if she were the last woman in the world. Ida lowered her camera and smiled back it him, and for a few moments they watched each other.
Billy winked and held out his hand. He was happy, and if any memories of last year were intruding on this moment, he didn’t let it show. With Ida at his side in their little corner of the world, Billy Washington felt for the first time in his life that maybe, just maybe, he was going to be ok.
Note: Woodwell is a village that I made up! And just in case people aren’t familiar with heritage charities (there are a lot in the UK), they generally look after sites of historic interest through research, arts, sciences and public engagement. Quite a few of them are historic properties and have places to live in for the people that work there.
Thank you so much for reading and for all the love. As I said before, any ideas that might make Billy and Ida appear again are welcome!
Every Little Bit | Billy Washington x SexuallyConfident!reader
Summary: Billy has never been the confident one in the relationship. So you endeavour to make him feel how he deserves | Word Count: | Warnings below the cut!
Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Billy W Taglist
requested by @randomdragonfires, sorry it's taken me so long to get round to it 😅
Warnings: mentions of a bad past relationship, p in v sex, mentions of feeling inadequate, confidence issues, masturbation (f and m), cumplay, voyeurism, use of sex toys, overstim
Out of all the guys she’d been with, Billy Washington seemed the most innocent-looking.
He had the face for it. With those big blue eyes, messy blonde hair and the irresistible way he would nervously lick his soft pink lips when he was anxious.
In complete contrast to that, he was tall, broad, with a sharp jawline and a sometimes striking gaze when his eyelids were hooded. Sometimes she found herself just looking at his hands as he wringed them, how his long, thick fingers curled around each other, tucking into his palms.
She wasn’t ashamed to say that it excited her.
He was a somewhat introverted guy, she found out. But it was endearing. He was a listener, when he was sober, fading into the background as much as a tall guy could, his eyes darting to whoever was speaking. But when he had a drink in his hand and some beer in his belly, he began to come out of his shell a little, yet still softly spoken. Choosing his words carefully to not draw too much attention to himself.
It was a shame, she mused.
She chalked it up mostly to his ex-girlfriend, who, from what she’d heard, had done very little to quell his nerves and insecurities. In fact, it seemed like she nurtured them, in order to perhaps feel better about herself.
That was the biggest crime of all. Forcing Billy to feel lesser than he was.
Than he deserved.
In their moments of quiet within his flat, legs tangled beneath the sheets, with his head pressed between her shoulder and chest as she absent-mindedly played with his hair, he would often say.
“Why the hell are you with a guy like me?”
The question didn’t come from nowhere. It was a familiar one, and asked often.
She never knew why he’d even ask?
“You could have any guy you wanted”
But she wants him.
What about that is so difficult to understand?
She quickly discovered though, that it was because Billy thought he wasn’t satisfying her.
So often had his ex expressed disappointment, with faked orgasms or huffs of annoyance, that Billy thought himself incapable of giving a single female pleasure.
She thought it was absurd.
The way Billy approached sex was another thing.
It was clear he wasn’t confident, unclear more so if he ever had been. He’d obviously had his fair share of girlfriends, had sexual relationships with most of them, but had never really allowed himself to be vulnerable with any of them intimately.
Not to mention, she doubted he’d ever divulged what he liked.
A people pleaser, through and through.
She knew he was only human. That beneath that good boy exterior there was something. Things he liked, but wouldn’t dare to ask for. Things he might have wanted to do to her, but wouldn’t say out loud.
It was a mission, to find out what made Billy Washington click.
Being unapologetically sexual was never an issue for her. Nor communication with previous partners (at least on her side anyway). Not that she was perfect in her opinion by any stretch, but she always, always, knew what she wanted. In her eyes, there was no need to be embarrassed about what you desire, or about telling that to the person that you trust and love.
Clearly, Billy’s trust had been shattered before she came into his life.
She looked up from her phone as she heard the front door, the clanging of keys in a bowl and shuffling of long, muffled footsteps.
A mischievous smile grew on her face as she laid atop his bed, in only his long t-shirt and nothing else, one hand pressed between her mid thighs to warm and comfort the hand that wasn't scrolling through her phone.
She heard his exasperated sigh and saw his sandy, blond hair as he turned towards the bedroom, halting on the spot as his baby blue eyes locked onto her legs first, trailing upwards to where the skin was covered by his shirt.
His cheeks were flushed. He'd obviously had a pint.
"Have a good time?", she asked warmly.
She saw him swallow thickly, his full lips parting to remember to breathe, "Mmhm".
Flopping her phone onto the bedside table, she rested her head in her palm, "What's up?"
Billy had to shake his head a few times to rid himself of what he thought was a trance, no doubt doubled by the little bit of alcohol in his system, "U-uh, nothing…" he murmured, pulling off his jacket and stepping across the threshold.
"Were you uh…waiting up for me?", Billy asked with a hint of hope in his voice that was difficult to miss.
She slides off the bed, shuffling up to his tall, broad figure, having to crane her neck to look at him properly through her eyelashes. Billy shivers noticeably as her hands drift across his chest, her fingers teasing the skin of his torso through the thin fabric of his shirt.
Though they'd been together for some time, even Billy understood, there was something different about tonight.
"What if I was?", she replies, a teasing lilt to her voice that makes Billy's hairs stand up on end.
He presses his lips together, feeling increasingly pent up by the second, as if her touch is setting off a chain reaction inside him, and he is fit to burst.
“What if I was thinking about you?”, she muses in a low tone, smiling when she feels him tense under her touch.
“About me?...”
“Yeah”
“In…what way?” he asks innocently.
She thinks, feigning disinterest for a moment as she bites her lip.
“I’ve been thinking, that you don’t tell me what you want”.
She watches his brows lower a bit in confusion, “...what I want?”
“Mmhm”, she replies, “in the bedroom anyway”.
“Oh”
She smiled with delight as his cheeks warmed, the redness blooming over his face, making his deep, blue eyes gleam from beneath his sweeping blonde hair.
Almost in a trance, Billy's hands drift beneath her arms to her waist, sucking the large shirt she wore to the actual shape of her body. She watched his face as his lips parted.
Billy didn't know what to say.
"I, uh…"
"You can tell me, Billy" she reassured quietly, watching his breath hitch, and his chest move more steadily as her fingers brushed the skin beneath his shirt.
She stopped when his hands came to hers, to gently, but firmly, push them off him.
“Not tonight…” he whispered, so quiet she nearly had to strain to hear him, “...please”.
How he said it was so vulnerable, his eyes blinking quickly, that she knew and took the cue to not even go about asking what was really wrong with him. She suspected it was something much deeper, something that needed a lengthy explanation, and one that right now he couldn’t give her.
She gave him a reassuring smile, letting him know that he needn’t feel like he was disappointing her.
She thought with a warmth in her heart, that Billy had come home, wavy from only one pint, only wanting to be held, have her fingers stroking his hair until he fell asleep.
So tonight, without judgement, she gave him comfort.
And would let him come to her when he was ready.
She loved mornings like this.
Lazy, hazy Saturdays.
The middle of the weekend. Leaving the stressful memory of Friday, flung headlong into the lull that Saturday offered, and without the threat of Sunday, knowing that the work week would just continue all over again.
With the bed sheets tucked around her idly, she scrolled through her phone with heavy eyelids, she could hear the faint tapping of the shower in the background and the occasional splash of water as Billy washed his hair.
The dust was illuminated as it drifted through the air, the atmosphere one a kind of homely, cosiness. The music from one of the speakers in the other room filled the gentle silence.
It was so domestic, she could only describe it that way. One that filled a space inside her that made her feel as if she could stay like this forever.
She thought of him, in the shower, water running off of him and his blonde hair all wet and pushed back from his forehead with his fingers. And for some reason, though they’d been together a long time, the idea of that still excited her.
It was useless to ignore how she pressed her thighs together.
It had been a few days since she and Billy were last intimate. And though she tried the night before, it was clear as anything he was in no mood for anything overtly sexual, favouring instead to bask in their closeness. She didn’t mind it. She would much rather him state if he wasn’t in the mood, than for him to push it aside, and struggle to keep the momentum going and be passionate once they were in the throes of it.
Because that would only fuel the inadequacy Billy felt.
And she wasn’t having that.
Tucking her phone beneath the pillow, she sighed as her hand slipped between her legs, finding herself already wet and wanting at the mere thought of her boyfriend in the shower. If she weren’t so pent up, she would have said to herself it was slightly pathetic, to be this aroused just by thinking about someone she saw everyday naked.
But she just couldn’t help herself.
She pressed her lips together, suppressing a sound that bubbled up there as her digits moved through her slick folds, her hips jolting slightly when her middle finger began to rub in micro-movements over her bud. Imagining it was him. His long,thick fingers…
She sunk further into the bed, the idle sound of muffled music in the background granting her the confidence to part her lips and let her quiet moans rumble in her chest.
With one hand pleasuring herself, the other slipped beneath her shirt to touch her own breast, again pretending they were his, large and calloused, gripping at her flesh hungrily, squeezing her nipples between his fingers desperately.
That dull buzz began to throb between her legs, and she paid more attention to her clit where she increased her movements.
Her head whipped to the doorway, her eyes flying open and breath caught in her chest, all movements ceased.
Her first instinct was to blush in embarrassment as Billy stood in the doorway, his blue eyes slowly drifting from where her hands were tucked and then to her eyes, absorbing the hedonistic and shy expression on her face.
Billy just stood there, clad only in his sweatpants that hung lowly on his hips, and the appearance of his body so unabashedly bared, the little trail of dark blonde hair leading down from his navel beneath the waistband, made that little buzz only ache tighter inside her. His hair was towel dried and pushed back off his forehead, the sandy strands darkened with moisture and laying messily on his head.
She wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
He saw her swallow nervously, seeing her not know what to do as he’d happened upon her in a very delicate moment, so lost in her pleasure that she had not heard him turn off the shower and open the door.
Her mouth went dry as she saw beneath his dark sweatpants, that he was undeniably hard, his erection pressed against his thigh.
Billy breathed steadily, his eyes flitting down once he realised she had stopped what she’d been doing.
His throat bobbed and he wet his lips as he spoke, “Keep going”.
Heat crawled up her neck to her face, and she was certain she was blushing furiously at what he’d said.
Never in their relationship had she seen him speak to her like he just had. All low and deep in his chest, with his usually gleaming, blue eyes darkened by his pupils expanding into the colour.
After she was sure she heard him correctly, she resumed her motions slowly at first, getting back into the motion steadily as she had before. Her head felt like it was full of hot air, once she saw Billy’s large hand slip past the waistband of his sweatpants and grip his length in his palm. Even from her spot on the bed, she saw the way he fisted his erection, his eyes fixed on her core, all wet and hot, peeking out from beneath the hem of his own shirt.
It felt so erotic, pleasuring himself when he was right there watching her, annoyingly far away where she couldn’t touch him.
A sound largely between a groan of annoyance and a moan of pleasure as her movements increased tumbled past her lips. And she was sure that she saw Billy’s eyes light up as he saw how irritated she was that she couldn’t reach out to him. To touch him as she so often couldn’t help herself from doing when they were intimate with each other.
“Billy...” she breathed, hoping that her tone of voice would be enough.
“Show me” his voice was firm, but with a waver at the end as his motions beneath his sweatpants increased, his chest all tense as his core tightened with pleasure.
Feeling her face all hot with both embarrassment and arousal, she pushed her ankles apart even more, doing as he said and exposing herself to him as he pleasured herself, finally sinking her fingers inside her. Her arousal audibly clicked against her fingers as she hastened her ministrations, trying so badly to achieve fulfilment herself.
But with him in the room, so far away but within reach, all she felt was that she needed him to give it to her.
Billy sighed, his pink lips parted as his gaze returned to her weeping arousal between her legs, seeing the effect he had on her without having touched her.
Using his other hand, he pushed the waistband slightly off his hip, pulling his length from its confines to show her the effect that she had on him.
She felt her insides clench around nothing, hungrily wanting him inside her when she saw him pleasure himself, his fingers wrapped around his cock and pumping in sure, confident movements.
She thought that if she closed her eyes and opened them again, he might take pity on her and just come over to the bed and fuck her, as she so desperately wanted. In all their relationship, she’d never been left wanting for him, ever. She’d always been the one to give to him, to give him pleasure, and in the bargain have some fun for herself, as she so often enjoyed feeling as if she was the only one who could give it to him.
And right now, she thought he must look utterly pathetic, not even having the energy to beg for him to fuck her.
The ends of his hair had begun to dry and she felt her tummy do backflips as he moved from the doorway towards her. Without thinking, she had slowed her movements, expecting him to have finally caved.
The mattress dipped at her ankles where he was knelt, but other than the brush of them against her flesh, he didn’t touch her, and he certainty hadn’t ceased the movements of his hand around his length.
Now, knelt over her like this, his tall form casting somewhat of a shadow over hers, she felt her walls flutter around her own fingers with excitement, desperate to be stretched to accommodate to his length that was so close to her.
“I don’t think I said stop, did I?”
She felt her mouth go all dry, the strands of his hair moving with every tug of his fist on his cock.
Billy looked down at her, watching with a sort of curiosity as she resumed, taking his words to heart. Wanting to please him.
She’d never felt so small in her life.
And, fuck, it was exciting to see this side of him.
He began to pump his cock in earnest, a slight pinkness to his cheeks from the effort, lips parted in hurried breath. He reached over, into the bedside table and threw the mini vibrator he knew was there onto the spot next to her.
She looked up in brief confusion, he wasn’t going to use it on her?
She felt entirely pent up, just wanting him to touch her.
“Billy, please…” she caved and begged, her face warm with slight humiliation at having to ask.
He batted her hand away when she tried to touch his torso, watching with a blank expression at the brief annoyance on her face.
“You can touch me when you cum”.
He had such a serious expression on his face, it was difficult to detect any sign in him that he was actually enjoying this.
She swallowed thickly and gasped when her other hand pressed the vibrator against her clit, pleasuring herself in two separate ways as her fingers continued to shallowly slide inside her with a wet, soft smack of her arousal. Having these two sensations at once was borderline overwhelming.
And part of her was flushed, that Billy was just right there, pleasuring himself while he watched her.
She closed her eyes, but Billy was quick to it.
“Look at me”.
She felt her core tighten impossibly, her movements becoming quicker and more needy as she neared that point of no return. The point where she would lose herself entirely.
And so she pressed the vibrator against her clit harder, using her slick to move it around in micro-movements as she canted her hips up to assist the friction there. Her eyes pulled up to him, and for some reason, looking into his eyes as he stared down at her instead of watching the way he pleasured himself right in front of her, was much much more intimate and erotic.
Billy himself began to breathe heavier, his chest moving erratically up and down, a sheen of sweat over his skin there, his grip on himself tightening.
“You close?” he asked breathily, feeling as if he was about to explode with arousal.
She nodded quickly, and without noticing circled the vibe around her bud, aided by how wet she was, “Yes - yes, Billy -”
She felt her hips shift down into the bed, thighs shaking as her orgasm rolled over her in waves. Her fingers dragged through her fluttering walls, the vibrator still buzzing incessantly on her clit as the numbness flooded her limbs, warmth flooding through her to the place where she needed him the most.
She wanted to pull the vibe away, overstimulation beginning to gnaw at her pleasure, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she looked up at Billy again when his other hand reached down and held her wrist in place. His eyes boring down into hers, just daring her to say something in response.
But she didn’t.
“-fuck, Billy-” she whined, her stomach clenching and unclenching in brief discomfort as yet another rush threatened to overcome her. Her lips hung open, and she wanted to shut her eyes badly, to cut off at least one feeling so that she could concentrate on the other between her legs.
It was too much.
She thought with a sort of bashfulness that she wanted to cum again purely at the feeling of his fingers on her flesh.
She felt moisture around her eyes, the pleasure so closely nearing on pain, but never quite overstepping that fine line between them. It was almost as if she could feel every erratic beating of her heart through her core, the second orgasm completely draining all the energy out of her.
Billy moaned loudly, partly cut off with a full body shudder as he tugged at his length to completion. The moan lingering on his sweet voice as he painted her pussy with his cum, sighing as he continued to pump himself, as if the sight of her covered in his spend was just too erotic to comprehend.
She flinched, her hips jolting upwards to meet him when he leaned down to rub the head of his cock over her clit and entrance, smearing his cum over her pussy, in a gesture that tugged at that pleasurable spot deep in her gut.
The only sound either of them were able to make were the tired remnants of moans on their hurried breaths.
When her heavy eyelids lifted to him again, she thought he looked like a piece of art. Broad and tall, his flesh tied with wiry muscle, subtle beneath the soft surface of his skin.
And for a moment, as Billy rode out his high that seemed to take everything out of him, they simply looked at each other as if something in the dynamic of their relationship had irrevocably changed.
There was something else in his baby blue eyes she’d never seen before. A shift.
Something inside him had been awakened, like he had enjoyed exerting a power and assertiveness over her that he’d never tried before.
He reached over, his palm pressing into the space on the mattress next to her head as he leaned over her. Her lips parted in surprise and pleasure when he dipped down and slid his length past her slick folds and slowly sank inside her, stretching her already abused and tender walls out around him, moulding her insides to the shape of him.
Billy sighed, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of her pussy gripping him hungrily, already clenching around his overly-sensitive cock. But as soon as his eyes opened again, his face now close to hers as he pushed inside her to the hilt, the hair at the base of him brushing against her clit, she raised her legs to hook around his hips.
And felt as if she’d seen someone else she’d never met before.
Her eyes rolled shut as his palm laid flat on her tummy, drifting up and taking the shirt with it, palming needily at her breasts as he began a mercifully soft and careful pace.
One she had no doubt would become more eager.
Part of her worried she wouldn’t leave this bed for a long while. The other wanted to smile, happy that Billy had felt comfortable and confident enough, finally, to demonstrate what he really, really wanted.
It seemed trivial perhaps to some, that a confidence, even sexually, could give so much power to a person and enhance the personality that was already there. To help them feel as loved as they deserved to feel.
She’d suspected for so long that he’d been hiding something. Something he was too nervous to ask for. Fearing perhaps that she would judge him.
But as he pressed his chest to hers, his hands snaking around her waist and her buttocks to push her body up to meet his desperate thrusts, she only felt relieved and undeniably happy, that she had been able to give him this freedom.
Please write me a Billy W story - no particular premise, but I would like heart wrenching angst and disgusting smut. Something that will make me feel like I want to bite through my own forearm like I know only you can.
@ewanmitchellcrumbs <3 xoxo
You got it, baby~ Tried the heart-wrenching angst but didn't want to kill my precious boy, hope you like!
Lost Without You
Warnings: past trauma, swearing, angst, mentions of breakup, smut (p in v, oral m receiving, tiddy succin) | Word Count: 6k~
Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Billy W Taglist
Billy hadn’t been in a car since Cranstead Fields.
Couldn’t and wouldn’t.
In the summer, with the incessant heat and dry air, it was totally fine. He would walk for hours and hours, mostly people watching and mulling over the events of that hot July where he had nearly fallen victim to his own overly trusting nature. Or perhaps he was naïve. It was difficult to tell the difference these days.
London flocked with tourists in the Summer, with the school holidays in full swing not long after. He'd happily disappear into the crowds, not wanting to be seen, and only observe. He'd watch families enjoy their time off in the blazing sun, even at Cranstead Fields, sometimes he'd walk past and see young lads playing footie right where his car had been. The grass now free of the tinged black tips from the fire, had turned a pale yellowish green with the harsh heat.
He thought it was wrong that he kept coming back. And he didn't know why he did.
People had fucking picnics there, absentmindedly sucking on ice lollies to keep cool, laughing and enjoying life.
Right where his had nearly ended.
He felt helpless. But he hated that he even felt that.
He remembered panicking so much in that driver's seat, so much so he'd nearly made himself sick. Shouting desperately for his sister to help him. Remembered her face through the window as she'd winced at what she'd seen inside the glovebox.
He barely remembered the extraction.
The in-between was blurry and he'd been sobbing so hard that only one thing could've brought him to his feet now that he was kneeling on the grass behind his car.
He'd nearly laughed as she pushed a policeman out the way, ignoring the orders for her to stay away. After all, there was still a live bomb inside the car. But she'd paid it no mind and had been kept away long enough. She ran across the cordon, her skin beneath the sundress she was wearing flushed with heat, exhaustion and outright terror. Her bare knees hit the grass with a thud, they'd be stained later, as she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a helpless hug.
If he wasn't so upset, he'd have worried about how covered in nervous sweat he was, how unbearably terrible he must have looked with his tear-streaked face. He'd never cried so much in front of her before. Even now as he snakes his arms around her waist, pulling her close, he'd buried his face in her neck so she wouldn't see. He could feel her breathing heavily, her heart beating fast, and how much she was trying not to cry at finally feeling him in her arms.
She settled for running her hands through his hair, damp from the heat and sweat, whispering his name as if to bring him crashing back into the reality where they were both here. He was safe.
She always made him feel safe. Wanted. It was a feeling Billy didn't know he needed before she came along.
But as usual.
He'd fucked it up.
After Cranstead, she did everything. All the cooking, cleaning, making sure he was taken to the police station to submit his statement. Sometimes it felt like she was more his secretary than a girlfriend.
At first, he appreciated her company, her willingness to commit herself to his wellbeing. And it wasn't like she wasn't selfless before, she'd always been good to him, but she'd really turned to the dial up to 10.
Some weeks in, it began to have the opposite effect. He felt like shit.
It felt like he was a kid again. And while, deep down, he wanted her help, he couldn't help but feel like she was pitying him. And he didn't need any more fucking pity. That's all anyone does. The further away the Cranstead Fields incident got, the more his parents returned to their previous conversations. Jobs. Commitments. When he and she would move in together. What he was going to do with his life.
As if it was just as simple as just forgetting it. As if the experience hadn't torn him apart.
She began to notice something was off a few weeks after the incident. He was recluse, giving one-word answers annoyed, spending most of his time smoking out the balcony doors of his flat instead of eating.
He couldn't bear to look at her. Didn't want to see that sinking look on her face. To come to the realisation that their relationship was failing and entering that murky, horrid form, where you know you should end it, but neither party wants to say it.
He thought, she had realised sooner than she wanted to admit. She loved him and wanted to be there for him, like any good girlfriend would be. She stood, watching him have his cigarette with his back to her, her overnight bag strung over her shoulder, wondering what she should say in response to what he'd just said.
"I don't need your help and I don't need you"
She opened her mouth a few times, willing something to come out. But she was too hurt to reply. She knew what that really meant.
She thought about writing a note. But instead, holding the hot tears back, she threw her bag in her car and sat in the driver's seat for a moment before gathering the strength to leave. Billy watched her car, a tiny little Volkswagen, pull away. And never come back.
With her, the families and tourists also left London, making way for the dull, wet humidity that Autumn came with. Even though they never moved in together, he felt the loss of her presence in his flat. Every time he came home, it slapped him in the face and if he felt shit before, when she was here, he felt even worse now for having broken up with her the way he did.
He hadn't even had the courage to really say it out loud. Nor to face her.
Billy did what he usually did, and accepted the feeling with open arms, dragging himself further down into a spiralling era of depression. Therapy did fuck all these days, he thought. Just paying someone else to take pity on you, which is the last thing he needed.
The flat slowly became a tip without him really even realising, packets of empty cigarettes piled up and all he did was go out every now and then for food and pop by the jobcentre. Not like there was much out there at the moment. Job seekers allowance would have to do for now.
Today was no different. With Autumn came shorter days and he'd barely realised, stuck in the jobcentre that it had become dark and mercilessly rainy. He pulled his hoodie over his head, stuck his hands in his pockets and went out into the pelting showers. It soaked through his clothes immediately, not dressed for such weather. Hair damp and sticking to his head and his jeans clinging uncomfortably to his legs with every step.
Pulling out his vibrating phone, he declined the call from Lana and shoved it back in his pocket. She'd been on his case like no other. Asking where his girlfriend was and how he'd let himself get like this. She was always the one to call him out, he hated it on one hand, but on the other it was nice to have it handed to him plainly sometimes.
Not today though, he thought.
The weather was unrelenting, rain pelted down so quick he could scarcely raise his head without it getting in his eyes.
He stepped off the curb to cross the road, without looking. A pair of headlights screeched to a halt.
"Jesus!" He pulled back onto the pavement again, face illuminated by the bright lights as he squinted.
He'd only realised what was going on when the driver's side opened. Her Volkswagen still had the lights on and the windscreen wipers were still quickly whirring.
She stood out the car slightly, her otherwise dry hair now gathering drops of rain, her jeans now a darkened blue the longer she stood there.
He felt his neck get hot, seeing her now after so long.
"Billy" were the only words that came from her lips,
"Fucks sake…" he turned a bit to walk away, not looking back even when he heard the car door slam shut.
"Billy!" She called after him, rain slapping on the concrete as she jogged up to him and pulled on his arm, "Billy, stop"
He pulled his arm away, looking down at her, "what!"
"I'm not letting you walk home in this. Get in" she said, voice elevated over the sound of the rain, which was running all over her face, down her neck, soaking her clothes right through.
"I didn't ask for your help"
"Would you stop being so fucking stubborn for one second?" She countered, clearly annoyed. They stared one another down for a moment, ignoring the ways their stomachs fluttered to see each other again.
"Come on, get in" she said, softer this time. Both of them now completely sodden.
He watched her get back in the car, torn at whether he should or not. He was still a good fifteen minute walk from his flat and already wet through, his shoes as well.
A short five minute drive in the car with his ex was a tough choice.
He opened the passenger door, eyeing the seat for a moment. He leaned forward, and opened the glovebox to find it empty (apart from her logbook and various other scraps), his heart going a million miles an hour. Eyes darted about the footwell, desperate to see if it was safe or not.
"It's alright, Billy…" she said softly from the driver's seat. In the low light of the car, he'd almost forgotten how pretty she was.
To both of them, it was clear that there was still love there. But neither wanted to be the first to say it. Or even acknowledge its existence.
He swallowed nervously and slumped into the passenger seat, suddenly feeling bad at how wet the seats must be. But it didn't seem like she minded. She just put the car in gear and drove the familiar five minutes to his flat in relative silence, apart from the quiet hum of the radio.
Of course the first time he's in a car in months, it's with her.
She pulled up to the curb, keeping the car running, as if she'd expected him to open the door and just run out, without saying anything. But Billy surprised himself, sat firmly in the passenger seat, he didn't move.
He didn't know what was happening to him. But for some reason, now that he had her back within reach, he didn't want to let her go.
He felt like a dick. For treating her as he did back then, and even tonight, when she'd offered him a lift, not expecting to even come in for a cuppa, he'd been cold and reclusive.
She turned off the ignition, looking over at him as he stared distantly into his lap, "You alright?" She asked carefully.
He wished he hadn't caved and looked at her, but he did. And his mouth went completely dry when he met her gaze. She made him feel so safe. So safe. Even now, when there was no real danger or chance of it, her mere presence seemed to calm that quick pounding of his heart.
"Do uh…you wanna come in?"
It came out more desperate than he'd intended. But he didn't regret saying it.
One of her hands noticeably gripped the steering wheel tighter, and he could see the internal battle she was fighting. Deciding whether or not it was a good idea.
She cleared her throat, unbuckling her seatbelt, "Sure, yeah…"
Billy winced remembering how messy the flat was when he'd left, and wondered what she'd think. He knew she was never the type to judge, but it embarrassed him all the same.
He felt his heart pitter patter in his chest at seeing her in his flat again, where she used to spend so much of her time. Where they'd nuzzle close on his tiny sofa, watching old 90s movies. Where she'd make him breakfast every Sunday morning, without fail. Where she'd come home after a bad day, seeking nothing but the comfort of being wrapped up in bed with him, stroking her hair.
"Tea? Coffee?" He asked, slipping into the kitchen. She followed, her hands wrapped around herself from the chill of being damp.
"Tea…thanks"
The loud, unrelenting hiss of the kettle filled the silence for a bit. Billy was trying to figure out what to say, keeping his hands busy fiddling with the teaspoon. He hated this. Hated that now they had to pretend to be strangers. As if they hadn’t spent the last few years devoted to each other. Spent night after night in his bedroom, basking in the fucked-out glow of the evening watching whatever was on late night telly ‘til either of them fell asleep.
Milk. No Sugar.
She suppressed the smile that he remembered how she liked it.
She nods her head whispering a thanks as he hands it to her, palm over the top of the steaming mug. It must hurt, she thinks. But he gives it to her this way so that she can put her fingers through the handle and not scald herself. At this small, tiny act of kindness on Billy’s part, she can’t help it, she does smile. A sad one. But a smile nonetheless.
His hallway that leads to the living room and bedroom is a bit cluttered, with his several pairs of Adidas shoes piled near the entrance, where he’d toed them off and never bothered to put them away. Billy brushes behind her to carry his own cuppa to the living room, the warmth in her tummy doesn’t go amiss either. He’s a lot taller than she is, one of the things she always shamelessly loved about him.
On the corkboard are several receipts, important looking bills as well as some letters from the NHS, easily spotted with the blue header.
“Still going to therapy then?” she asked, voice half-raised to reach him in the living room.
The therapy I organised, she thinks.
“Sometimes, yeah” he answers quietly.
The living room is a reflection of Billy. Messy, not put-together, various items strewn about the room like empty cans of beer and old letters he’d not bothered to throw away. It’s not necessarily a disgusting mess like old plates of food, more just items, but worry still gnaws inside her at how he is currently living.
She looks out the balcony doors, mostly to avoid looking right at him sat on the sofa, bouncing his leg anxiously and at the obvious way he is also trying not to be caught looking at her.
"How's your parents"
She looked at him only briefly, "Alright. Dad's retired now. Moved to Australia last month. I'm paying them rent til the mortgage runs out"
Billy's eyebrows raised in surprise. The thought of her in that house by herself was a sobering one and he thought she must be lonely there all alone.
She'd always come to his flat, for a sense of privacy and independence, but also to do the things they couldn't when she was in their house.
Those lazy weekend mornings, warm beneath the sheets with their bodies pressed together. Sleepily brushing the sheets from her bare skin to touch it, tracing all her feminine lines and curves. Her breath against his neck, hurried and needy. Fucking her into the mattress until the early afternoo-
"You're being quiet" she said, almost so quiet he didn't hear. Billy steeled his expression, to try and make it obvious he wasn't thinking about all the times he'd had her in that very bed. Like he didn't know all her sweet spots, the ones that made her breathe his name in a way that couldn't possibly be replicated. In a way that made his stomach lurch into his chest in flutters.
"I don't know what you want me to say" she was holding the mug in both hands, staring out the balcony windows, looking at her car outside, being hammered with rain.
Billy poked his cheek with his tongue, hands still clasped on his lap, thinking.
"Think it's me who owes you an explanation" he replied, voice low. Like he was a child in trouble. What he'd said made her look over at him, her face and hair still damp.
"I don't know" she put the mug down, turning to him, as if she didn't trust herself to hold it, "is it?"
He forced himself to look at her, hating the way she was trying to mask how troubled she was.
“Look, I know you’re upset-”
She scoffs, pulling her tears back, crossing her arms, “Understatement of the year”
“I don’t want a fucking fight right now”
“Neither do I. But I have a feeling your explanation will make one” she kept shifting her weight from foot to foot, nervous.
Billy sighed, “I just-I didn’t feel like myself. Realised you were too good for me, and that someday you’d realise it too” he explains quietly, hands clasped together, “Thought why not speed up the process”
“And you think you know what I want, do you?” she counters, her fingers digging slightly into her palm, trying to ignore the way her chest is getting tight.
“I just want you to be happy. Sometimes you can’t get that with someone dragging you down like I was doing”
She laughs, a short puff of air off her chest, hardly able to believe what’s coming out his mouth.
“I didn’t do all that I did for my fucking health, Billy. I did it because I loved you. And not once did I ever make you feel bad for it, for giving you space” she argues, catching her breath a moment, “I just-”
“It’s not about that” Billy says sharply,
“Isn’t it? You said you didn’t need my help, remember? Or is that just a Billy way of saying you don’t love me anymore?”
“I do love you” his expression could have fooled her. He looks exasperated and angry, frustrated.
“You have a funny way of showing it” she snaps, “I was just trying to help you”
She steps back a little when Billy stands up, his height shocking her for a moment as she has to crane her neck to see his face. His fists are clenched hard beside him, body quite literally shaking with the anger he’s trying so desperately to keep in.
"You were suffocating me!”
She scoffs, “Oh I’m sorry, I’ll refer to the handbook next time my boyfriend is trapped in a car with a bomb in the glovebox, shall I?”
If he hadn't been so upset, he'd have laughed. She was always funny. Unintentionally as well. Yet another thing he loved about her.
He must have shown a little bit of it on his face, because she shook her head, “Oh I’m funny now, am I?”
It didn’t shake the small smile from his face. Billy only swallowed over the lump in his throat, feeling uncomfortably hot against the still damp hoodie that was sticking to his chest. His eyes softened instantly and he couldn’t bear to look at her as he thought about what he might say.
“It just made me realise…I mean come on-I haven’t got a job, a future, my brain’s fucked…” he confessed quietly, “...I didn’t have anything but you and I can’t help but feel I drag you down-”
“Billy…”
“No-look at you, you’ve…got your life sorted out, a home…you deserve someone on your level, someone…that might not be me”
His heart lurches right into his throat, blue eyes brimmed with tears, when she steps forward to take his hands, almost outright sobbing at the feeling of her skin against his again. Her thumbs drawing soft and gentle circles on them.
“Don’t think like that, please..” she practically begged in such a soft, desperate tone, “I could never ever imagine my life without you and when I had to-I just couldn’t…love you too much to do that”
Billy feels his heart hurting. For months it had been so rarely used. And now to feel it so full of love just in the last hour he’d seen her, the stretch to accommodate it was painful. But the nice kind.
“I nearly lost you” she chokes out, “And I hated that I couldn’t do a single thing about it…”
He feels his mouth go dry. Thinking back, after the incident, she never did cry about anything. Rather, she pretended to be the rock, emotional walls built high, so that Billy could allow himself to let go.
He was so absorbed, perhaps rightly so, in his own situation. How he'd felt. That he hadn't stopped to think how broken she'd been by what happened, and all he could think about was that desperate hug she'd given him that day. How tightly she held him, her hands touching every piece of him she could to check it wasn’t some cruel dream.
She was hurting just as much as he was.
"I'm so fucking sorry, I-" he paused halfway, choking up and unable to form the rest of it once he saw her teary eyes.
He could've sobbed when she put her hand so gently to his face, her small thumbs wiping away the wetness on his cheeks. She gave a small watery laugh, her smile breaking through the sheer exhaustion of her heartbreak in her eyes.
"You're really fucking thick sometimes, you know that" she laughed softly.
And he couldn't help it, he let out somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Finally allowing himself to run his fingers through her hair, some strands drying and some still stuck together, forming waves in their wake. Another thing he loved about her.
"It's a Washington trait" he replied, his voice quiet and desperate. Both of them trying hard not to lose it again and cry.
"I know, '' she said with a genuine smile, her eyes lighting up in front of him again from the glow of a street lamp outside.
It wasn’t clear who moved first, but neither of them cared enough to think. If her hands on his face was a small slice of heaven, having her lips against him again was paradise. She just fit against him so perfectly as he wrapped his arms around her waist, desperate for the contact he had been denied in her absence. His hand dipping slightly beneath the hem of her shirt, feeling her tacky rain-soaked skin, almost groaning right against her mouth as he broke to take a breath. The hand that was at his face tugged him closer, deepening an ever-desperate kiss, like they had both been freed to desire each other.
His lips trailed from hers to her jaw, to her neck, inhaling her familiar scent, sighing at the perfume she would always wear. That hadn’t changed either. He left open-mouthed kisses against the tender skin there, trailing down the slope of her neck to her collarbones, hot and quick pants of his breath coming in huffs against it.
Her hand tightened on his shirt, “Billy…”
She’d hate it if she could see the boyish smirk on his face. At him knowing how much she wanted him, needed him. How hot her body got when they were near each other and how that familiar pool of arousal settled between her legs at the idea of this intimacy.
He pulls her to him by her waist, tugging her to straddle his lap as he lands on his sofa, resisting the urge to rut against her as he feels her clothed core rub against him. She can feel how hard he is, how hard he has been since the second they'd touched lips. Their kisses are having less effect, only delaying the inevitable wanton need they have for each other. And yet he chases her warm, soft lips and goes back for more which each break of breath.
The second she goes to pull off her top, throwing it somewhere across the room, his hands are on her, unclasping her bra to join it and his lips and tongue running over the newly exposed flesh. It smells like a mix of her perfume, her natural scent and the earthy smell that the rain leaves behind.
He savours every breath, every soft moan that tumbles out her mouth when he mouths one of her perk, rosy nipples, taking one and running his tongue all over it. His hand joining the other to give it attention. He could die a happy man buried between her tits like this, feeling the pleasant thrum of her heart beneath her ribs.
When her hand slips beneath the waistband of his jeans, wrapping around his cock, he groans against her chest, sending vibrations through her torso. She smiles a bit, with flushed cheeks, that he's already hard.
"Miss me?"
He'd missed her playfulness. But the way she's tugging at his length, squeezing ever so slightly harder when she gets to the tip, smearing precum over the head of it as it weeps with arousal. It gives her attitude a run for its money.
His half lidded gaze looks up at her, her hair framing her face no nicely in the dim light of the room. Rosy lips parted in anticipation of his reaction to her touch, glazed and kiss-bruised from before.
"Fuck…" he breathes, tipping his head back slightly.
With his eyes shut she dips her head to his neck, sucking and biting softly on his pulse point, speeding up the motions of her hand only slightly. But not enough. She skims over his clothed chest, letting her legs fall between his to the floor, her lips kissing just below his navel over the smattering of sandy blonde hair.
Billy looks down with a sort of admiration, watching the way she tugs his jeans over his hips, taking his boxers with it. Her mouth covers every bit of skin that's shown, taking his hot and aching length in one hand to give him some languid pumps before she dips her tongue against the base.
It's the teasing that makes Billy breathe faster. But nothing prepares him for the way her mouth sinks over his cock in one smoothe warm motion. After having been together for so long, she knew how to take him well and so she takes as much as she is able into her mouth, relaxing her jaw and using the other hand to pump whatever else she can't fit.
He pulls his hoodie over his head and she can see the way his muscles on his stomach flex, trying to hold back as much as he can. His fingers thread through her hair at the side of her face to the back, not pulling her on him, just holding her as she bobs her head against him, her tongue running against the vein on the underside, a motion that makes his fists tighten against her scalp. Every now and then when her eyes look up at him, his breath is stolen from his lungs and feels as if he might cum right there and then.
She hums around him appreciatively, enjoying the heady, intoxicating taste of him after so long. Not wanting to cum too soon, Billy gently pulls her off him, his cock shining with her spit and still standing hard against his stomach.
"You're so fucking good…" he whispers as his thumb drags over her bottom lip, tugging her to his own in a deep and wanton kiss. She pulls her jeans down with her underwear before sitting astride his narrow waist again, dragging her wetness over his cock as she sways her hips over him. Being naked in front of each other like this again is just so right, so basic and human, it's like nothing ever happened.
He smirks in the kiss at how ready she already is.
"Miss me?..."
Her face blushes with embarrassment and she playfully swats his shoulder, "shut up"
He reaches between them, running the head of his cock through her slick folds. It'd be so easy to just slide inside, to be enveloped by her warmth and feel the familiar ridges of her core, squeeze him just as tightly as they always had.
"Billy please…" she sobs as he teases her, moving away when she tries to sink down on him, "please just fuck me..."
He didn't need to be told twice.
He squeezed the flesh of her ass hard when he sank inside, leaving red marks against her skin as she stretched to accommodate his size. Her lips parted, eyes softly shut as a gasp escaped her mouth, matching his.
Their breaths mingled with each other as she took him fully, the head of his cock kissing that rough spot inside, easier in this position.
"You were fucking made for me…" he breathed against her lips, using her hips to move her on hip. She mewled out in pleasure, tears pricking the corners of her eyes at feeling him so deep inside her.
He moved her on top of him, back and forth, over and over again, fucking her using his own hold on her waist, meeting her halfway with his own pressing of his hips, watching the way her tits bounced with ever harsh thrust. Her sounds, every soft moan of his name, were music, only urging him on.
“God…Billy…” running her fingers through his hair, she held him close, lifting her hips to aid their chaotic fucking. Trying and failing to hold back the intensity of her moans as her first climax fills her limbs with warmth, thighs trembling around him and a series of expletives as he shoves himself harder into her through it. It takes the wind out of her for a moment while she gathers her breath, the lewd sound of her slick against the base of his cock the only sound in the room.
Only he could make her feel like this. Lose control like this. It didn't happen overnight either. At first he'd been apprehensive to show how much he wanted sex. But when she teased it out of him, it couldn't be contained any longer.
"Taking me so well-shit" he moaned out, her breasts against his face.
He could feel himself getting close.
She squeaked in surprise when her back met the sofa, looking up at Billy over her as his large palm pulled her legs apart again. He looked so good. Naked, his cock hard and covered in her arousal, lithe form and his face, rivalling that of a statue carved out of stone. Sharp jaw and nose, his soft blue eyes, sandy blonde hair now tousled from their intense lovemaking.
How could she not love him.
He was perfect.
He unapologetically gave that boyish Billy smile as he looked down at her, her chest speckled with heat from the passion of it all. Her tits moving with her breathing and her cheeks as she smiled lazily up at him, tinged with the prettiest pink he'd ever seen.
Billy remembered the last holiday they went on together, in the late spring. They'd driven to Cornwall with a hired minivan. And before arriving into Port Isaac, they'd stopped on a country road in the late afternoon when the sun touched the sea. He'd made love to her in the driver's seat and admired the way the orange sunset kissed the colour of her hair. She looked gorgeous then, face flushed and legs astride him.
How she looks at him now reminds him of that afternoon.
"What?" She asked, when he just sat and admired her.
He just shook his head, "You're just beautiful…"
He captured her lips with his own, leaning over and slowly teasing himself back inside her, sliding through with the aid of her new rush of arousal from her orgasm. Slowly like this, she feels every ridge, every vein and it does nothing to stem the desire to have him do whatever he wants. As long as it's with her.
With the soft thrust of his hips against her, pulling her legs around his waist, his hand runs up her front, between her breasts to her neck, gently holding her while he looks down to see how his cock just effortlessly disappears inside her over and over. His hips meetings hers slower than before but with just as much power, as if trying to imprint the shape of him inside her so they’d never forget how each other felt.
Billy bites at the skin between her neck and shoulder, hoping the marks take there, before pulling her leg up in his palm and pushing it higher so that he can raise himself and fuck down into her.
"Billy…don't stop…" she breathes as her eyes meet his. He can tell the new position reaches somewhere so incredibly deep that she clutches his shoulders for purchase, nails leaving half moon shaped indents in his skin.
"Fuck, you're so-" he chokes out, the veins in his neck pulsing with desire the more he feels himself losing control. Her mewls and moans fill the otherwise quiet room, whispering his name like a chant, "I'm gonna-"
"Yes…Billy…need you" she whispers, her hands gripping his shoulders again when the pressure inside her lets loose once again, making her tighten around him.
He cums with a shattered moan against her neck, rocking himself against her a few more times for friction before stilling inside her warm heat as it convulses around him, the aftershocks of he orgasm only serving to prolong the pleasure of his. He can feel his blood humming with hunger and a sense of completion, like he's found the other half he'd been after, and doesn't want to let it go now.
He can feel their heartbeats against each other, her chest meeting his with every sharp inhale. Her skin is so warm and soft against him, he never wants to know what it's like to not have her again.
When he looks down at her, her eyes find his quickly and for a moment they admire the fucked-out expressions on their faces, the large dilation of their pupils and how their touch goes form harsh and needy to tender and loving.
She smiles tiredly and he can still feel her heartbeat inside her, even as he begins to soften.
"Tea's gone cold…" he breathes out between pants.
Her laugh fills his heart with warmth, a genuine laugh with teeth and those little lines around her eyes. And he can't help but feel a bolt of pleasure up his spine at how the laugh reverberates through her body to his cock.
He falls to his side against the sofa, lazily pulling a blanket over them and pulling her to his chest, running his fingers through her wavy, slightly tangled hair. He kisses the crown of her head, inhaling her scent, musky from the rain with a whisper of her shampoo.
"Stay here…please…" he begs, his voice thick, as if he couldn't bear the rejection of her saying no. Not after everything. He even feels his chest tighten at the thought.
Her head moves to look up at him, reaching out to bring his face to hers, kissing his lips so tenderly it made him want to weep.
"I could never leave you…ever" she whispers against his lips, slotting hers against his once more, her hand ghosting over his heart. To feel how alive he is.
Those three words don't even need to be said. They both knew it. Knew it had never left even in their absence. When their hearts had been divided.
But for old time's sake, they said it anyway.
Dividers by @saradika
General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics
Billy W Taglist: @fan-goddess & for my Billy simps @assortedseaglass
*Bold means I couldn’t tag, if I can't tag you you can always turn on notifications for when I post. DM me if you wanna be removed besties
17/12: Reassurance & Car Sex - Billy Washington
Word Count: 1.5k~ | Warnings: mild angst, p in v sex, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), praise
12 Days of Smuff Masterlist
She sighs as she locks up, huffing her coat on in the chill of the late evening. She's able to see her breath as she yawns, tapping her foot as she waits for the tell-tale sound of the squeaky shift from fourth gear to third. The inevitable sound of Billy's car as he comes to pick her up.
She smooths her hands over her cold and aching legs, needing nothing more right now than to just curl up on the sofa under a blanket and sleep like she's dead.
Billy's car screeches down the road, amber headlights aglow, right on time as usual.
It doesn't take a genius. She can tell right away when he pulls up and doesn't even look in her direction that he's got a mard on.
It's something that used to bother her. But now, after knowing and being with him for so long, she knows all the little tells, all his mannerisms.
He won't be able to keep quiet about what he's thinking for long when confronted with silence.
Billy rests his head on his fist as it leans against the window, keeping the car running as she gets in, preparing herself for yet another monologue. She complains in her head, but really, she'd rather he tell her than just keep it in.
He's wearing his dark green jacket over a jumper, and she can see as soon as she shuts the door how his knee is bouncing.
“Good day at work?” he asks, dispassionately.
She presses her lips together giving him a smile, nodding, like she knows something is wrong.
“Alright, ta,” she replies, knowing what she's about to say next might start him off, “you?”
He simply puts the car in gear and drives off, “Yeah, fine.”
Her eyes narrow. He's not looked at her once.
She's surprised that he lasts as long as he does to be fair. Without the radio on, and only the sound of his Vauxhall's grinding revs to drown out the silence, she can see how his knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
“No…actually…it wasn't fine…”, he says quietly, almost too quiet to really hear without leaning over.
“Why?”
Billy scoffs, shaking his head, “I'm just a fucking idiot.”
Oh, hell no. We are not doing this.
Luckily, the route Billy is taking home goes through a dark single carriageway, covered by foliage with ample place to pull over.
“Park up.”
It's the first time he looks over at her. Brows arched in confusion.
“Eh?”
“Park. Up.”
He even sighs as he does, slowing to a full stop and tugging up the handbrake like it's the most difficult thing in the world.
“Turn the car off.”
He does. Moving his fingers to the bridge of his nose. By now wishing he'd said nothing at all.
“Do you wanna run that by me again?” she prods.
“Why are you being like this?”
“I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you calling yourself a ‘fucking idiot’, Billy.”
He sighs, “I really didn't wanna do this.”
“It's not an argument, Billy. Can you just tell me, plainly, what's happened? No…self-deprecation.”
His finger taps idly on the steering wheel, both of their breaths fogging up the car.
“I'm just…finding it hard”.
She cocks her head, gaze softening.
“It's not the same as…fixing up my old banger. Just feels like I don't know anything…”
There it is. That look on his face.
The one he always has when he's giving up on himself.
“Billy, they wouldn't have taken you on if they thought you couldn't do it-”
“I know. I'm just not hacking it-”
“Billy”, she says it flatly, hoping to grab his attention.
And she nearly softens right up when his baby blues look over at her from the driver's seat, all shiny and sad.
“Listen to me. I know, I know, how hard it's been for you to get any work. And now that you have, you're just trying to find something else to beat yourself up about.”
She sees how Billy swallows, nervously smoothing his hands over his jeans, like he doesn't know what to do when praised. It so rarely happened from anyone else before.
“You've done so well, Billy. And…as far as knowledge goes, if you don't know how to do something or…if you don't know what something is, ask.”
She reaches for his arm, wanting to show him with her touch, just how much she means it.
“There is no harm in asking. And give yourself some credit. Half the guys there have been doing this way longer than you and can barely hold their dick in a straight line.”
Some of the tension is lessened when he gives a breathy laugh, no doubt blushing as well as he looks into his lap. And she's relieved to see the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.
“I'm so proud of you, you know.”
It just came out so naturally she didn't even think twice about saying it. But she's forced to rethink about the weight of it when he looks up to her, their faces bathed in the minimal glow of the street lights outside.
But he doesn't say anything, making a warmth creep into her cheeks as he studies her.
“What?”
A surprised squeak is all that's able to leave her mouth as Billy pulls her by the back of her neck to crash his lips to hers. An urgent, needed kiss. One of pure necessity, but warming nonetheless in her gut.
His clothes smell of engine oil, something she'd become pleasantly accustomed to since Billy started this new job. And it's shameful to admit, but she rather likes the rugged, masculine scent that vapes off of him when they're in the throes of it.
Now is no different.
She melts into him as his tongue sweeps over her bottom lip, caressing hers, before pulling away with a soft click.
“Say it again, please…”
Her lips part involuntarily as his fingers run into her hair, tugging her close to him as he mouths at her neck.
“Um…I am…I'm proud of you…”
She can feel his breath against her neck as he sighs, as if those are the sweetest words she's ever said to him.
Her eyes dart around as Billy presses himself up against her, able to see the effect all this is having concealed beneath his boxers.
“Billy, someone could see-”
“I don't care.”
She squeals again as Billy pulls the lever up on the passenger seat, laying the back down flat so she faces the roof. He is quick to follow on top of her, emboldened perhaps by the fact that the road is dark and clear with being so late at night, and there is nothing around them but fields and trees.
His knee parts her legs, chest pressed against hers as his full lips make their way down her neck to her collarbone.
Her chest feels all tight, stomach doing backflips at the thought of doing this so unabashedly in his car. But she doesn't protest. Instead she watches his face as he edges down her body, eventually reaching her leggings where his impatient hands tug at the waistband.
“Billy…”
He doesn't even wait to pull down her underwear before he dives between her thighs, mouthing at her clothed centre like he's been thinking about it all day.
“- fuck -”
All breath is shot out of her throat when Billy collects her underwear in his fingers and tugs them hastily aside, flattening his warm, wet muscle against her bundle of nerves in a sensation that has her back arch off the seat slightly.
Her hand finds his hair, the sandy tresses spilling through her fingers, pulling him towards her in micro-movements as he feasts on her, moaning outright as he does it. It does well to drown out the muffled sounds of a car flying past the single carriageway outside.
She is sure it's never felt this good before as she grinds unceremoniously on his face, searching for friction. And she feels the way his hands wrench her thighs apart, wanting more of her taste.
“Oh - fuck, Billy -”
Warmth creeps into her gut as Billy quickens, moving down to fuck her with his tongue as his thumb moves to her clit so the sensation is not abandoned. And both of these dull, pleasurable feelings at once has electricity firing off in her blood, not realising how hard she's pulling on him.
Her orgasm is followed by a choked cry, her hips chasing his lips and tongue as she rides it out. All Billy can do is lap up whatever she gives him, her essence coating his lips in the most erotic way, the car smelling of sex and their bodies.
He pulls away just enough to undo his jeans and lay back on top of her, his lips finding hers again and allowing her to taste the heady, musky juices that have coated them. She'd be embarrassed if she heard how she moaned as the head of his cock pushed past her slick folds, spearing her open around him.
She desperately hopes that another car doesn't come by as theirs has now started to bob with movements that cannot be explained with anything else other than sex. Although secretly, excitement bubbles inside her at the thought.
So she holds onto him, raising her legs around him to aid him deeper inside her, smiling lovingly when he gruffs.
25/12: Promise & Phone Sex - Billy Washington
Word Count: 1.6k~ | Warnings: phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation (f and m)
A/N: this exists in the Every Little Bit universe!
12 Days of Smuff Masterlist
He always knew it was coming around, and yet he always hated it.
Her dad’s birthday was in between Christmas and New Year, that weird time where you don’t know what day it is, never seem to have enough food in and where you’re so disorientated in the post-Christmas haze that it’s like coming down from a sugar high.
It was the few times of year where she went away by herself, wanting to spare Billy from the absolute torture of being around her parents for a few days as she made excuse after excuse as to why they weren’t married yet.
Not that he minded, there was only so much of her mum Billy could take.
He’d seen her off at the train station, her duffel bag looking very much as big as her in the cutest way possible as she skipped off to the platform in her winter overcoat and scarf, the chill nipping at her cheeks.
It was only a few days. It was only a few days. He had to keep reminding himself.
Billy sighed, tapping the remote control against his knee, only half-watching whatever terrible Friday night tele graced his flat. The pizza box was closed shut on the coffee table, having tried to cheer himself up with a takeaway.
His phone buzzed, and he couldn't help the smile that rose to his face, seeing her name in bright white letters on the face of it.
She'd promised to ring 9 o’clock on the dot, after all.
“Hiya, ya alright?” he answered, his voice sounding perkier already, his muscles relaxing once he heard her voice.
“Hey, you sound happy”, she replied low down the phone, and he could tell she was smiling by the way she said it.
“I am now,” he grinned, “just finished a 12 inch on my own.”
She groaned over the line, “Billy.”
“I'm joking, it's because I've heard your voice again.”
“Better,” she laughed breathily, “what you up to? Other than missing me, of course.”
He sighs, “Being a sad cunt, staying in with a beer watching whatever shite is on Channel 4.”
“Ooh dear,” she says unenthusiastically, “sounds dull, babe.”
Billy hummed in agreement, “What about you? What you up to?”
It was her turn to sigh, “fuck all, really. Mum and Dad went to go and see Mum's mate Jill, you know Jill don't you?”
“Yes, babe.”
“Yeah, well they left at five and are yet to be back. Convinced she's got them tied up in the basement.”
Billy laughed through his nose, “That actually sounds better than what she might actually be doing, chatting their bloody ears off.”
“Poor buggers, eh,” she laughed, “so I'm sat here on my tod.”
“What a shame you've got me to talk to then.”
He could hear her smile, “could be worse. You missing me?”
The alcohol had offered him a kind of confidence, and he sucked his teeth, holding back a grin, “You could say that. Missing something anyway.”
He heard her mischievous tone even over the crackle of the phone.
“Are you now?”
The line went quiet for a while, before a notification buzzed and Billy turned her on loudspeaker for a moment as he pulled his phone from his ear to check.
…has sent an image.
With one flick of his thumb, his jaw dropped, the depths of his gut becoming tight and hot by the picture she'd sent him. It was her figure reflected in a mirror, wearing clearly nothing but a large t-shirt (his, he noted) and pulling the spare fabric to one side to show her curves as well as her pebbled nipples beneath it.
“Jesus..”
She giggled over the phone, “is that a good ‘jesus’?”
“I-fuck, yes…”
Another one arrived, with her pulling up the hem of her shirt over her hips and expanse of her stomach, just beneath the shadow of her breasts.
“Christ, babe, what are you doing to me?”
She hummed, “sorry, you said you were missing me.”
Billy sighed looking at the photos, every now and then closing his eyes to will the feeling of her skin onto his fingertips, the warmth of her, the sounds she'd make for him.
His breathing grew shallow as he reached into his jeans, wrapping one hand around his length, to softly pump himself, already half-hard since the moment the first picture arrived.
“Are you enjoying them?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.
“Mmhm..” he murmured.
Another few arrived, in various stages. One where the shirt was fully over her breasts, one where she was wearing nothing at all leaning back to show her full naked torso, and one sat on the bed, the lines appearing where her hips met her thighs.
“Oh fuck…”
Over the phone, she could hear the clinking of his belt as he pleasured himself, “are you touching yourself, baby?”
He could only make a sound in confirmation, his throat closing as he fisted himself to the photos of her.
She sighed, as if her touching herself was expelling a deeply rooted desire, her hands sliding between her legs, the other holding the phone to her ear, “Mm…wish you were here…”
“-ffuck-me too, baby-”
His strained voice was enough to coax some slick between her fingers, using it to pleasure herself, laid back on the bed.
“are you on the sofa?...”
He swallowed, breathlessly replying, “yeah..”
“Do you remember before I left…” she started, and the memory nearly made Billy dizzy.
He was sat right where he is right now, legs apart to accommodate her kneeling there. She'd been annoyed that he was playing Xbox, and so, in an effort to make him lose his game, had knelt in front of him, pulled his sweatpants over his hips and eagerly took his length between her lips.
She'd gotten what she wanted. Before long, his controller was long forgotten and instead, his fingers were threaded through her hair, guiding her pace on him.
He can feel his stomach tightening at the memory of the sensation.
“Do you remember, baby?”
“Yes…”
“Hm..” she hummed, over the phone, while in her own bed began to hasten the pace of her self-pleasure.
"If I were there...do you know what I'd do?"
"What..." he breathed, his hold on his phone so tight without realising.
"I'd get up...off my knees...on top of you..." she muses, sighing at the feeling herself beginning to crest, "...maybe tease you a bit..."
"Fuck-no, baby, don't tease me-"
She let out a breathy laugh, "but why not? It's so much fun."
Her hips canted towards her own touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she held the phone loosely as the pressure tightened in her gut.
"What would you do, baby? If I was right there on top of you..."
His voice came strained, every stroke of his length in his fist drawing him close to fulfilment.
"I would - I'd fuckin' pull you down..."
She could tell he was close by the tone of his voice, and she bit back a smile, knowing he was much too far gone to even form a coherent thought.
"I'd let you fuck me...right there...be your little fuck toy..." She mused in a sort of whisper, "...you could cum inside me...as many times as you want, baby..."
Billy's lips parted, not even realising how his movements had become rapid, needy and quick.
"Oh fuck-"
On the other side she was close herself, and then she heard the prompt and pulled the phone away from her ear to see a request to switch to video call. She accepted without thinking and felt her gut twist at what she saw.
His jeans were pushed around his zipper barely, only enough to free his cock as he pumped it quickly. She was entranced as Billy pleasured himself in real time, her face growing warm at the effect she'd clearly had on him.
And then she heard it, a long shuddered whimper of her name, followed by, "Oh baby-"
She felt her thighs tremble as she came, warmth rushing beneath her hips and a tingling sensation rushing from her toes all the way up her spine, as Billy groaned deeply and spilled all over his fingers for her to see.
Her hand has slowed, overstimulation gnawing as she touched herself with Billy's languid thrusts into his hand continuing to pull a deep arousal from her.
Over the video she heard his laboured breaths, gulping for air.
When the video turned off she smiled tiredly and pulled her phone back to her ear, hearing his tired, exhausted voice.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathed. She could imagine him, all spent and limp on the sofa, and the thought made her smirk and press her thighs together with want.
"Mm, you're telling me. Do you feel better now?" She asked demurely.
"Fuck you," he teased, "fuck, I can't wait for you to get back..."
She gave a short laugh, "Oh yeah? What you gonna do when I am?"
He was quiet for so long she wondered if he'd heard her, her brows furrowed in confusion, lips parted to ask him if he was still there.
But realistically, on the other end, a wide smile graced his face, his blue eyes all aglimmer with mischief.
And what he said had the power to shut her right up. Excitement made her stomach flip, wondering what version of Billy she seems to have unleashed. Gone was the shy, unconfident Billy she'd found. Her efforts in getting him to...unwind somewhat shocking even her.
"How did you put it, hm?" he laughed, with a smile so bright like he'd just opened a present, "My little fuck toy?"
Summary: Following the devastating events at Westhaven, something beyond their control is aching to pull them together | Word Count: 3.7k~ | Warnings below the cut!
General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Warnings: funeral, suggestions of neglect, mentions of sexual intercourse, mild angst, mild violence
A/N: my babies are back :) hope you like this chapter <3 who has a feeling there's something Billy doesn't know? 🤭
Funerals always felt strange. But he supposed that wasn’t a bad thing.
He looked around, shifting his weight from foot to foot and stood next to his parents. All of Lana’s coworkers were here, some dressed in their military uniform, some in black suits like he was. They’d all formed their own groups, chatting idly amongst themselves to fill the silence that was entrenched with the knowledge of what they were here for.
To send off their beloved coworker, who had so long been at their sides, that he somewhat felt like family.
Nut was a dear friend of Lana’s.
He remembered at first, how they absolutely could not stand each other, each too similar for their own good. Stubborn, proud and strong-willed both in and out of their dangerous occupation.
But they were funny together.
Lana had insisted that she was fine, and that she had to keep working, otherwise she’d ‘go mental’. But Billy knew her. She was just delaying the inevitable, and that some day, she’d crack, and crack hard.
You couldn’t bottle up a feeling like that.
Not when a further 12 people died in the attack, with many more than the news originally anticipated injured as well.
He’d stopped checking the BBC Homepage. It was becoming just an act to distract him from what was really going on around him, mindlessly scrolling through all the flat-toned ways in which they described the horror of the situation.
Nothing could distract him from the weighted guilt that was left behind by her presence.
Lana turned up to St Mary’s Church one grey morning looking as if she hadn’t slept a wink, and had simply pulled a blazer haphazardly over what she usually wore to work. Her face was gaunt, like she’d not wanted to come but was trying to hide it on her expression. Billy liked to think he could read his sister, but over time he felt as if the person he grew up with was fading away.
He gave her a hug in greeting, one hand on her back to let her know he felt the enormity of her loss.
“You look smart, Billy”.
He didn’t reply to that, he simply bowed his head and shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling a wash of insecurity flood through him at the way she’d said it.
Like she still thought he was a fuck-up.
“Bit grand, all this, eh?”, his mum raised her eyebrows, obviously having seen all the military uniformed men scattered about, with lines of medals on their breasts. Billy grimaced, and made eye contact with Lana as if to say ‘that was a fucking weird thing to say at a funeral’. But his mum must have realised it and followed up with, “Nut would love it, though”, which did nothing to take the sting out of the previous insensitivity.
Billy watched longingly as she disappeared, feeling even more alone than when he started.
He looked into the crowd, expecting her figure to weave through the people milling about on the pavement. Her bright, warm face and eyes all mischievous as they met him. And he didn’t know why a sudden memory came to him right at that moment. St Mary’s Church wasn’t unknown to either of them. They’d pissed off the priest too much by age 14, having broken in one too many times and knocked over a silver candlestick.
Since the church was no longer suitable for their mischievous evening excursions, they’d moved onto the local museum, noting that the CCTV around the fire exit didn’t work. Once inside, he didn’t question why she was wearing her school skirt and a mucky top, skipping about on the marble floor like they were much younger than they were.
If he’d asked now, he wouldn’t have liked the answer.
If he’d asked then, she wouldn’t have told him that her mum had been lying unconscious on the sofa for the better part of eleven hours. She wouldn’t have told him that the kitchen was so messy and piled high with dirty dishes that Environmental Health had been called round by the neighbour. She wouldn’t have told him that she wore her school skirt because it was the only thing in the house of hers that was relatively clean.
“Quiet Wash!”
“Don’t call me that. I get enough of that at school.”
“Fuck me, sor-ry,” she grinned, nudging his shoulder with hers, “this place freaks me out.”
“Fuckin’ boring, more like. Remind me why we’re here again?”
“For our weekly therapy sessions of course!” she beamed, covering her mouth when the echo carried further than she intended, “got any sins you need to confess?”
Billy huffed, loosening the school tie from around his neck, swinging his long, gangly arms as they wandered through the dark hallway. He only answered when they passed the ‘Victorian Era’ section.
“Didn’t take you for the religious type.”
“I’m not, but sins is a good word.”
He smiled at that, “Ummmm, I suppose I cheated off someone for my Maths test earlier.”
She turned to him abruptly, a look of delight and horror on her face, “You did not! Who off?”
“That weirdo Andy.”
“Aw, he’s not a weirdo. Just…misunderstood.”
“Like how you’re misunderstood?”
As soon as the words came out his mouth, Billy regretted them. Mostly by her reaction. A forced laugh, graced with a settling of her eyebrows into a grimace at the end.
And by how she tried to change the subject.
“You still going on holiday on Friday?” she asked.
“Yeah, going to see the grandparents. Back on Sunday though.”
“That’ll be nice, to see them I mean,” she added with a shy smile.
He hated how desperately shy and cowardly he was not to say what was on his mind then. That he would miss her, in the barely two days he’d be away, he knew he would.
But he never told her.
She never seemed to hold it against him at the time. Or even now from what he could detect.
A subconscious smile wormed its way to his face, remembering how the twitching of the security guard’s torch whipped at their backs as they desperately ran for the fire exit.
They’d ran and laughed completely out of breath. Their heads high on adrenaline and excitement, swearing and shouting whenever they’d snagged even the tiniest of inconveniences. He’d even lifted her over the gates, turning bright red at catching sight of her knickers through her school tights, not that she’d noticed, and jogged with her to the nearest alleyway, throats raw and lungs burning as they gasped for breath, smiling widely.
He missed being young with her.
And now he thought that even if people weren’t slipping away, the personalities seemed to.
More people dropped by for the wake at the Forester, not Billy’s local, but known to him.
He remembered being here twice before now. Once with his mum and dad for a Sunday carvery, when his dad had said the mash was ‘lumpy’ and ‘he could load a gun with the roast potatoes they were that hard’. They never went back for food.
The second time, he’d come with her. They’d barely turned 18 and were enjoying flouting the use of their provisional licences by ordering some of their first legal drinks at the bar. He’d ordered a pale ale, and she’d had a bottle of fruity cider. Billy at least remembered she didn’t like the bitter taste of normal beer, and found what she lovingly dubbed ‘fruit shoot for adults’ more acceptable.
Even in the awkward little booth all the Washington’s were squeezed into, choked by silence, it made him smile remembering the face she’d pulled when she got a taste of his pint.
“You working?”
He’d barely had a moment to tear himself from his memories to look up and see his sister’s face as she’d asked the fated question, a brief flicker of annoyance passing his face at her smug expression, knowing the answer before he had a chance to reply.
It hadn’t taken her long to slip back into her bitchy older sister mentality then.
“Is he bollocks”, the same warning glance turned to his dad, who was by now, several glasses of whiskey deep.
Mum’s driving again, then.
He searched his mind quickly for his go-to answer. He had several choices.
I’ve applied to some this week, just waiting to hear back.
Was at the job centre the other day.
Stopped by the garage, handed in my CV.
But he settled for, “It’s just tough at the minute”, with his lips flat, looking at her from under the blonde wisps of hair on his brow.
Lana raised her eyebrows, not smirking specifically, but clearly amused at his dull response, “Oh, right?”
I’m not fucking doing this. Not sitting here to be labelled as the family fuck-up. I already know that.
He thought that with his Mum sitting next to him and Lana and his dad opposite, he was more his Mum, and Lana more his dad. Not only in their colouring, in their temperaments and attitudes as well. As hot-headed and stubborn as they both were, his dad would always always stick up for her, whether it was the right thing to do or not.
A sort of alliance, so to speak.
“Drinks, anyone? Mum?”.
“Don’t be such a mardy git”
“No, Dad, just leave it, all right?”
Now that came out harsher than anticipated, more forceful. And Billy saw the look of acceptance on his dad’s face, as if Billy had given him exactly the reaction he wanted to justify his early opinion of his only son.
So Billy did the only thing he thought would help.
He got up and left. Cheap round at least, if it’s only him drinking.
She’d only just locked her car when she saw Mr and Mrs Washington pouring out of the Forester. Billy’s mum was much more grey than blonde now, with grey hairs peppered between the otherwise golden strands. His dad, though he still had a stern face, was much more rounded, rosy-cheeked from alcohol, and hair thinning atop his head.
But Billy’s mum lit up when she clapped eyes on an older version of the girl she once knew.
“Hiya, duck, you alright?” she beamed, squeezing with the force only a mother could give when she pulled her into a hug.
She wondered if she hugged Lana like this.
It felt nice, she was ashamed to admit, to have motherly love. Just not from her own.
“You alright, Mrs Washington?”
“Oh darling, it’s Val, come on now”, she smiled, the wrinkles around her eyes sinking in as she pulled away, “you’re a right little madam now, aren’t you? How was your degree? History, wasn’t it?”
She smiled, trying to make it not seem sad, “Yes, it was good, thank you”.
“You’re back for good now, aren’t ya?”, the gruff voice of Billy’s dad joined Val’s side, his expression impartial and his throat sounding scratchier than she remembered. Perhaps he was back into smoking.
“Yeah, I’ve uh…got a place not far”.
“You'll have to come over for tea, duck. Been far too long since we've seen you”, Val smiled widely, “anyway we've got to get off, Lana's inside if you fancy saying hello”.
The thought of having dinner with them again, the people who she'd very often seen as her own pseudo-parents, and often saw them more than she had her own mother, set off a warmth that fizzled in her chest.
She couldn't deny how nice it would be, to catch up with them all again.
Sometimes being at their house was like watching her own TV show, The Washingtons, watching them bicker across the table, sometimes in harmless quips and sometimes evolving into full on arguments.
Her and Billy would always sit next to each other, raising their eyebrows in a manner that expressed their discomfort. Always followed with a stifled giggle.
And there it was again. The lingering thought that, those days were gone now.
The pub had an immediate bitter smell to it when she first walked in, the stifling heat of bodies hitting her immediately, and the slight stench of sweat.
She thought, there was no place for judgement of people sweating, having to wear black to a funeral during a heatwave.
She spotted the group of guys at the bar first, all with their black blazers off, and the top buttons of their shirts undone now that their inhibitions had faded the more alcohol they drank. They laughed loudly with each other, but she didn't see Lana until she stepped out, she was so short compared to them.
“Hi Lana”, she smiled when she was close enough.
Those familiar blue eyes looked back, wide-eyed and joyful, the lines around them crinkling much like Val’s.
“Hiya! God, what you doing down this way?” she asked, giving a quick hug in greeting like she was seeing an old friend.
“I've moved back down for work and…to be with people I know again,” she replied, her eyes solemn, “I'm sorry about Nut, really…and I hope you're alright.”
She saw her face drop a bit like she might cry again and let the emotions take the reins, before the eldest Washington sighed, “Thanks. I'm alright. It's…just a shock.”
She nodded, unable to find the words to follow up. But luckily, in her alcohol-addled state, Lana changed the subject quickly and raised her eyebrows, in the way she always did when she was being slightly judgy.
“No mates up north then?”
“None worth keeping”, she smiled, which Lana mirrored.
“You having a drink?”
She thought, fuck it, might as well have one and still drive home, “Yeah go on then”.
They waited at the bar while the man behind it poured pints, pulling on the heavy lever every few seconds.
“I'd’ve thought Billy would have mentioned you.”
She couldn't help it. The statement took her so off guard her face must have blanched, though she tried to smile and make up some quick excuse, Lana simply smiled, her cheeks red. Clearly she'd had quite a bit already.
“Got ya”, Lana grinned, “he tells me fuck all but I know when something's happened. I'm not stupid.”
Shit.
“Just please tell me you haven't fucked. Otherwise I'll vomit right here.”
Her lips parted without her realising, heat rushing to her face at the bluntness of it. Bloody hell, alcohol made Lana an entirely different person.
“I-what? - no!”
“Oh, thank god for that,” she sighed dramatically, “it'll be good to have you back anyway, he's been a right miserable sod since you've been gone.”
Now that caught her attention.
“What do you mean?”
“He's always been a mardy bugger but he's turned the fucking dial up to 100, especially since Becky walked out on him.”
That was news to her.
She felt herself deflate a little. And didn't know why.
She lifted her eyes at the faint smell of second-hand cigarette smoke.
“Billy!” Lana beamed, “another drink? Treating your big sister?”
A chill settled in her skin at the mention of his name, and the fact that she'd known he was there before Lana had even said it. But a dull warmth crept back in, when she locked eyes on the other Washington, seeing his surprised expression at her presence.
They almost, almost, smiled at each other.
He cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead, “Yeah, alright, do you…want one?” he asked, looking tentatively at her, eyebrows arched with nerves, leaving space between them at the bar like she might bite him.
“Just one, thanks. Driving”, she replied with a thin-lipped smile.
Billy nodded awkwardly and didn't even have to ask what she wanted as he tapped his card against the machine.
The bottle wasn't even in her hand two seconds before Lana beamed, cheeks tinged with drunkenness, “Off for a fag! Be right back”.
She shook her head as Lana waddled to the fire exit with another guy in a suit. As drunk as she seemed, she understood full well that she was leaving her little brother and her by themselves on purpose.
Billy seemed to understand this too, as he watched his sibling disappear with a heavy sigh.
The two sat on a tiny circular table, lined sticky with old beer that had barely been wiped off. And at first, neither of them knew what to say. Billy had never replied to her text message, so she wasn't sure if he was just doing this out of sheer politeness, or if he actually wanted to give it a go.
“You been alright?”
The sound of Billy's voice was so unexpected that she nearly stared at him mouth agape.
“Oh, yeah, um…got the keys to my flat the other day”.
Billy leaned back in his chair, undoing the top few buttons of his black shirt and tugging the tie down with it, “Nice, then?”
A smile broke free, “It'll do.”
Shockingly, he smiled at that as well.
“I'm sorry about Becky”, she started, trying to think of a follow-up when Billy threw a daunted look at her, “Lana mentioned it…sorry-”
“Nah, it's fine. She just can't keep her gob shut, can she.”
She smiled again as she sipped her drink, Billy did the same. Something warm drifted through the air between them.
“Saw your parents as I was coming in.”
“Oh, yeah?” Billy raised his eyebrows expectantly, “bet Mum's already tried to feed you her foul cottage pie again”.
“It wasn't that bad.”
“Oh come on, who the fuck puts marmite in a cottage pie?”
It felt nice to laugh with Billy.
Felt natural.
And when their eyes lingered after drifting into silence, she felt that if she looked any longer, the waterworks would really begin.
There was a flush on Billy's cheeks, like there had been on Lana’s. Whether it was sunburn or alcohol, it was difficult to tell.
But from the way Billy found it easy to smile, she would guess the latter.
She watched the way his lips parted and closed a few times, as if he wanted to say something. Years and years of feelings left unsaid, waiting on his tongue.
A distant voice seemed to shake them both. A familiar yet unsettling one.
Billy watched his friend go all rigid, pale and unsettled as she seemed to spot someone at the bar behind him.
He'd seen this look on her face only a handful of times.
With a half empty bottle of cider, she threw her bag over shoulder and quickly got up, “I have to go.”
He wasn't sure what quite got over him. The inhibitions had faded somewhat.
“What's wrong?”
She shook her head swiftly, “nothing, I just-”
When Billy looked behind him, he recognised the gait, the self-assured tone of his voice. He looked older than them, much older, from years of heavy drinking and smoking.
The boy she knew from school. The one she'd cried over.
Billy remembered that afternoon, hugging her to his chest at Cranstead Fields, after he'd shattered her confidence and broken her heart.
She grabbed his sleeve, “Billy, stop it, please-”
“And what?” His head snapped back, eyes wide and eyebrows arched in anger. The flush on his face made him look less endearing now, and more tight with rage.
“Just leave it,” she practically begged, her eyes flitting from her tall friend to the man, who mercifully had not noticed them.
Her hand slipped from his sleeve, feeling as if more than anything else, she was annoying Billy over feeling nostalgic about their friendship. And embarrassment nipped at her skin as she tugged the bag over her shoulder, her eyes sinking from his.
“Come on, I've got the car. I can take you home.”
“No.”
“But Billy-”
“Nah, got to stay here with Lana.”
She bit her lip, feeling as if he wasn't being entirely truthful, but it was good enough of an excuse that she didn't have a reply.
“Alright…well, look after yourself, okay?”
She'd barely taken the step before his cigarette-scratchy voice boomed across the bar, “there she is! Billy's only real mate, back from the dead!”
Billy watched her expression arch in something akin to pain, hearing his voice and what he'd said. And it was this moment that Billy realised he hadn't even remembered the bastard's name, only what he'd done to her.
She couldn't even really bear to look up and see his face again, to have to look into his eyes, the twist in her heart was much too painful.
“The North not want you either? Come back for some mor-”
It turned out she didn't need to. The entire pub seemed to erupt with excitement of both the bad and good kind as Billy's body twisted drunkenly and his fist barrelled through the man's face, grazing his jaw clumsily.
The ‘mates’ around him simply caught him as he stumbled back, but were too drunk themselves to find the situation anything but a bit funny.
“What the fuck did you say?!”
“Billy, fuck, Billy stop! He's not worth it!”
Billy barely moved even with her hands on his chest, pushing him back, watching his flushed face harden with frustration, stern blue eyes still trained on the man who was trying to find his footing.
“Get out my way.”
Her stomach flipped as his fingers easily wrapped around her wrist to gently push her away. At least having the mindset that he should be tender with her.
“Fuck’s sake, Billy, stop.”
He seemed near-fixated on the situation around the man he'd just assaulted, heedless of the repercussions.
But the tone of her voice made his blue eyes flit down to her.
He'd not heard that shift in a long time.
They seemed to stare at each other for a long moment. Not even realising that the man's mates had dragged him into the nearest taxi they could flag down, and that the bar idea had gone all quiet.
Billy shook his head as if shaking himself from a memory, “I need a fag.”
“Billy-”
She reached for him, but he disappeared out the fire door, a pack of cigarettes gripped so tight the package was yielding to his touch.
He'd slipped from her grasp. Once again.
And even though it wasn't the first time, she felt the grief of it all like it was.
