Warnings: Work shenanigans, anxiety, angst, jealousy, possessiveness.
A/N: I feel like I say this a lot but Jesus Christ I am having the roughest time. Like... my dog's sick, and work is fucking insane and trying to balance life is an absolute nightmare. Being alive is making me mad right now. Send help.
Anyways, here's Teeth.
Danny hovers over your shoulder like a bug you desperately want to swat.
Surely HR would understand it if you just gave him one swift smack with the server’s operator manuals on the desk nearby.
He’s just… too close.
It’s scrambling your thinking, you can’t read properly when his breath is dusting your shoulder. Seriously, who stands so close?
He’d only been here half a month now, he’d supplied that information too eagerly to you on his way up. He was like a puppy, with his shaggy brown hair and glasses, shifting behind you to see better and asking questions while you were trying to do your checks.
Questions were okay, you didn’t mind answering questions- except it was hard to read the results of your diagnostic checks and answer his million questions.
“Why did you decide to become a consultant?” Danny asks.
Jesus Christ.
When you part your lips to politely answer him, an error pops up. One or more nodes not responding.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Uh,” You hedge, leaning in to reboot the system in hopes that it fixes the problem. In the time that it takes to reboot, you scrape together a polite answer for Danny.
“Honestly, I didn’t think consultancy was a logical path because my old boss made it out to be a nepotistic boy’s club. Maybe his way of holding me in that role. It worked for a while, but Mister Russo just made me an offer I’d have been too stupid to refuse.” Not to mention he’s hot as sin and his cum is still leaking out of me, you think to yourself with a small smile.
When the system reboots, the error is still present. You let out a soft breath of annoyance, opening up the error logs to search for any hints as to what might be causing the issue.
“Why don’t we just reboot everything again?” Danny asks.
Thankfully you’re facing the computer screen so he doesn’t see your right eye twitch. You glance at the operator’s manual longingly for a moment.
“Maybe if the error was related to synchronisation that might work. But I suspect there’s a corrupted file somewhere causing this. Servers don’t usually like unexpected power losses. Maybe we shouldn’t have a single button that-”
Your fingers freeze on the keyboard.
Something strange washes down your spine, an ache in your throat as if you’ve swallowed a handful of nails.
Wrong.
Danny keeps talking.
You can’t hear him properly, his voice muffled under the ringing that has started in your head.
You try to swallow.
Standing suddenly, you glance from the computer to Danny, unable to explain why you suddenly feel like your insides, your soul, your very essence is no longer in the room with you, having left your body without warning.
“I have to… do something,” You rush out inexplicably, “Run the diagnostic again, I’ll-” Turning, you run out the door.
.
The feeling is so unfamiliar that it shocks you. It’s like an instinct you’d long forgotten about, coming to life and demanding your compliance. You don’t know where you’re going, just letting your feet take you as though your head has rescinded control to something buried deeper.
It takes you through the halls, to the elevator, your hand hovering over the numbers, trying to discern with unfamiliar senses where to go.
Your heart begins slamming in your chest, pulses of warm blood racing through your head, the distinct feeling of running out of time overwhelms you.
Which floor? What was going on? You close your eyes and jab without thought.
Top floor.
Billy.
Yes, that was it, you had to find Billy.
This wasn’t like the anxiety attack you’d had before, this was strange, the urge to see him- to soothe him- almost swallows you.
Your finger jabs the button again and again, as though pressing it more times will move the elevator faster. You can hear your own breathing, feel the shallow squeezes of your heart, but something else is in control.
The doors pull open slowly, you squeeze yourself through the first gap you can.
You know where you’re going now, your thoughts in your head have aligned somewhat with the movement of your body until you’re pressing against his office door.
“Billy?”
He turns as though he’s been caught. You draw in deep breaths, eyes scanning the room for threats. Your eyes roam the room, finding nothing, before something catches your eye.
In the corner of the room, on one of his couches, is the scarf you’d lost a week ago.
It’s not the scarf that’s strange, but the items around that seem odd- a broken phone- not just broken- crushed- as though squeezed under an object while lying on its side. A torn shirt, that makes you approach curiously. Ripped right down the middle, splashes of mud all over it.
Then, another piece of dark, ripped fabric, curiously, you reach for it. It’s stiff, crusty, flakes of mud settling on your palm as you pick it up. Except that… mud doesn’t usually smell so metallic.
Gasping, you drop the fabric, stepping back, wiping your hands against your pants automatically. You realise where you’d seen it before. They’d shown you pictures of the mangled serial killer after your near death escape, anything to help jog your memory of the events.
The fabric… had once been a part of his shirt.
Your hands can’t seem to feel clean, as you wipe them repeatedly.
“What is this?” You turn your head to look in Billy’s direction, his face is calm, his eyes making a slow assessment of you as you feel like you’re going a little crazy, “What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing.” He says, the clicking of his desk drawer as it slides shut. You hadn’t realised it was open in the first place.
“This isn’t nothing.” You swallow, turning your head back to the little pile of items.
“That’s my scarf- and the torn shirt is from-” Your throat tightens before you can say the words.
“Why are they here?” You turn to look at Billy, his eyes seem to plead with you to stop, but you don’t want to, you want answers, “Why?”
And the phone, you turn back to look at the phone. Was this his?
You stared at the items, and stared and stared and the pieces wouldn’t fit, they didn’t make sense.
Did the stalker leave these items during the power outage? Why?
Your fingers trace over the torn shirt. Ripped, as though torn from the body in a sudden haste, or maybe shredded under claws-
Your breath shudders out.
The crushed phone was indented weirdly, curled in, one side held a wider surface area of damage than the other, you could almost imagine it, held in someone’s hand and squeezed.
Not someone. A predator.
You straightened, turning to look at Billy once more.
He looked back at you, stoic, like the man you’d met all those months ago was here once again.
You waited, and waited, and hoped he’d explain, but when a minute had passed in tense silence between you, the realisation came that you would not be hearing an explanation.
Your throat ached, your heart tore.
You would have believed him. You would have understood. You would have kept it a secret.
He didn’t trust you.
Without a word, you turn, and walk out the door.
.
The silence that echoes through his head is short lived.
The beast roars in his head, so loudly that he squeezes his eyes shut and tightens his fists. Unconsciously, he takes a step forward as if to chase you, stopping himself short.
Angry.
The predator rages at him. Billy feels his teeth elongate, his eyes shift, pushing at him to find you, to confess to you, to kneel at your feet and beg for your forgiveness.
To claim-
A sharp, guttural breath leaves his chest.
He reaches for his phone, and calls Madani.
She answers on the third ring. Neither of them speaks.
“Anvil. Now.” Is all Billy can find the control to say through gritted teeth. He can barely hear himself think over the angry roaring of the panther in his head.
He ends the call, gripping his table tightly as he tries to think.
Fuck, he should have locked the building down. He’d have to call security.
He’d been so busy hiding the more… revealing evidence in his desk that the thought had slipped him.
Worse- he was still warring with himself to go after you.
The look on your face had crushed him. How could he have done that to you? Why didn’t he say anything?
You were in enough danger already, without him adding confirmation of shapeshifters into the mix. The thought of what could happen to you if hunters got their hands on you was enough to momentarily silence the beast.
They would capture you, torture you, try to turn you against him, and if they couldn’t- they’d kill you.
Which was… a best case scenario.
He couldn’t think about worst case- not without the memories of his past being dredged up, the shouts of shifters reverberating in his head as they’re killed by their brainwashed mates. The agony of betrayal in the sound of their screams, begging their loves to remember them.
Putting her deeper into harm’s way wasn’t an option.
The day is almost over when Dinah arrives. He asks Sergei to make sure you get home safely before he finds himself being dragged into a game of endless possibilities with the Homeland agent.
Sitting at his desk, all the evidence laid out before him as the sun sets behind him. He tilts his head, watching Dinah scan the items, leaning in to pick up the black scrap of fabric you’d handled earlier, sniffing at it.
“It’s a warning.” Billy says, stating the obvious.
Madani hums, “It’s more than that.”
His eyebrow twitches curiously.
“This person has collected a lot of evidence about you. They know the places you’ve been, they know what you are-” She picks up what looks like a large petri dish, holding a cutting of mud that contains one of his perfectly preserved paw prints, “They’ve cleaned up after you. They want you to know that.”
She examines the paw print, leaning in to take a tentative sniff.
“All I can smell is you. Even that tells me something. This isn’t just a warning, this is… obsession.”
He turns away, sifting through his head for anyone that might be willing to go to these lengths.
Unfortunately, the list is long.
Combing through security footage is longer still.
Billy paces behind Dinah as she sits and scrolls through the screens.
“How can there be nothing?” He asks for a second time.
Dinah is no doubt tired of him, her annoyance growing in every breath she takes.
“There are no freezes, or splices in the footage, no inconsistencies in the hallway movements. Everyone on your floor is accounted for.”
Billy pauses his steps, “What if they came in from another floor?”
Dinah itches at the corner of her eye, “Like through a vent? Do you have a vent that would fit a human?”
“No,” He drawls, “But-” He turns to face her swiftly, “Maybe we’re not looking for a human.”
“Shifter?” Dinah utters in disbelief, the quick clicking of the mouse as she scrolls, “As in, a wereferret pulling a bag of werepanther evidence through the vents?”
Billy makes a face.
“Are wereferrets real?” He asks.
Dinah chuckles.
“You tell me, you might have one running through your vents obsessed with you.”
He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll make the shifters on my team do a sweep. If there’s anything there- they’ll find it.”
Madani nods absentmindedly.
“I’ll take a copy of the footage, and keep sweeping. There has to be something.”
Billy agrees.
.
It’s almost ten p.m. when they step into the garage. Billy’s heading to his car, and Dinah’s isn’t parked too far away.
“Someone should check in on…” Billy says, refraining from speaking Frank’s name, always trying to keep his best friend safe.
She knows what he means though.
“I’ll reach out within the week and let you know.”
“Thanks.”
He pauses when he sees another car in the parking lot. Sure, the building isn’t empty, but this is the car Sergei should have used to take you home hours ago.
Shit. When was the last time he’d checked his phone?
There’s a message from you, telling him that you’re working late- part of his system isn’t communicating- that you sent Sergei home and that you’ll grab a taxi.
He lets out a swift curse.
Dinah lifts an eyebrow curiously.
Something wrong?” She asks.
“It’s fine, I just forgot something inside. I’ll talk to you later.” He says, turning to walk back the way he came.
He finds Sergei standing outside the server room with a bored expression on his face. The corner of his mouth twitches in amusement, that you thought you could have dismissed his bodyguard after he’d received orders to make sure you got home safely.
“Go home, Sergei.” Billy murmurs as he pulls open the door.
He doesn’t wait to see if the man acknowledges his command.
Your scent is sweet in the air, a little tart around the edges. He can even smell himself, still lingering on your skin and that makes the predator purr in delight. He feels himself stir in his trousers, the thought of being here alone with you stirs something wicked inside of him.
His smile drops when he smells another, and then his mood sinks even further when your laughter rings out.
Who the fuck is making his girl laugh?
He rounds the corner, and stops, catching your side profile.
There you are, with your hair pulled back, a little messy, as though you could care less about righting it. That soft, pretty way you look, your eyes rimmed red with exhaustion and still a smile on your face as you glance over at-
Fucking Danny.
The beast growls.
You shiver, and he watches you tug something tighter around you. He swears he feels his teeth crack under the strain of his anger.
Who's fucking jacket were you wearing?
And why the fuck was that man so close to you?
He raises a hand, and raps loudly on the nearby steel doorframe. Two heads swivel in his direction.
“Mister Russo.” You say, rising.
Mister Russo?
Mister Russo?
Forget his fucking nickname, he was going to condition that tight cunt to get wet every time you called him Mister Fucking Russo since you insisted on saying it so goddamned much.
After today, he was going to teach you the very hard way, what his fucking name was.
He feels the predator wrap tightly around his thoughts, influencing his demeanour. Billy draws in a deep breath, glancing at the monitor while he gets himself in check.
“A little late, isn’t it?”
You make a small hum, looking back at the monitor as well.
“Yes. I had to reload the software-” You spare a look at Danny, “-twice, and then the backups I made are being restored now.”
His eyes fall on the man’s jacket wrapped around you as you talk. The predator urges him to rip the jacket off of you and strangle Danny with it.
“Hmm.” he intonates softly.
You turn back to him with wide eyes.
“Can I speak with you outside?” Billy asks, moving aside to allow you to pass, not really giving you the option of saying no.
He scents your spike of interest in the air as you nod easily, looking back at Danny for a second and giving him instructions in case the backup finishes loading before you get back.
When you walk past him, he catches your scent, mixed in with Danny’s, and his canines elongate in his mouth. He tosses Danny a murderous look before he turns to follow you out.
.
You lean your shoulder against the wall outside, waiting patiently for Billy. You let out a slow sigh, squeezing your eyes closed for a moment before reopening them.
Damn, you really should have tried harder to fall asleep last night.
You hear the door click shut and you raise your head, fighting a yawn.
“If this is about overtime-”
Your body is pressed squarely into the wall and his mouth is on yours before you can even finish your sentence.
Fuuuuck.
His kiss is harsh, almost punishing. Difficult to keep up with and hard to comprehend with your tired brain.
But you love every second of it.
Your hands lift, pressing to his shoulders and a low growl leaves him, as he reaches up to grip your wrists, pinning them beside your head.
You suck in a breath of surprise, but he doesn’t relent, slipping a leg between your own as you feel your stance buckle slightly.
“B- Billy.” You murmur into his mouth.
He makes a sound of defiance, releasing one wrist to grab a fistful of the hair on the back of your head.
You whine, hips gliding unconsciously over his thigh, searching for friction.
His hand grips your hair tighter, a small sound of bliss and surprise leaves you.
His mouth finds your neck, kissing and worrying the skin, sharp teeth nipping as he moves to that sweet spot between your neck and shoulder. You sigh, tilting your head eagerly, nipples pebbling at the hungry way he mouths at you. He pushes the jacket off your shoulders and you let it drop to the floor eagerly.
His mouth is gone from you almost instantly.
You’re so confused for a moment, the absence of him causing your head to spin as you press your body to the wall behind.
Eyes zeroing in on him, standing across from you, wiping at your gloss clinging to the corner of his mouth.
You watch, as he slowly tugs his jacket off, your eyes eating up the way he looks in his shirt, the muscles of his arms flexing, barely contained. A slow breath of awareness as he approaches.
“What-” You start to say, but you’re interrupted by him turning you to face the wall, and the next thing you know, he’s tugging his jacket onto your body like you’re just an oversized doll.
Fuck, your brain is essentially scrambled right now, thrown off-kilter by his confusing mannerisms.
He pulls the jacket to your shoulders before turning you to face him. His hands smooth over the lapels, studying them with a careful eye.
His thumb strokes your racing pulse point on your throat gently. You find yourself swallowing under the intensity of his gaze, his eyes tracing the movement.
You feel his thumb, press into your throat more firmly.
“You should be more careful about whose things you wear. You wouldn’t want to… put someone in danger.”
It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to figure out what exactly he means.
You part your lips to say something, to defend the guy you'd warmed to just a little while working with him. Yes, you still wanted to smack him over the head with the Operator’s Manual, but in a slightly less homicidal way.
“You know I'm going to have to swear him to secrecy now, right? If I walk back in there with your jacket-”
His hand moves to secure itself around your throat. Not even squeezing, just holding you there in a way that tells you he's trying his best to be nice.
You fight a smile.
“Don't care.” He utters gruffly, “You're mine.”
Now when he says it like that, with his dark eyes on you, promising every wicked thing you've ever fantasized about, it makes you feel just a little bit crazy with how much you want him.
You nod in understanding, and he lets out a soft sigh.
“I'll wait for you in the car.” He murmurs, placing one last lingering kiss to your cheek, before he steps away.
.
“Hey,” Danny says when you step back into the room, his eyes still fixed on the monitor, “Upload just finished and I'm just rebooting like you said.”
You let out a soft sigh, “Okay, cool.”
“Everything alright with Russo?” He asks, finally turning to face you. You watch his eyes drop to the jacket on your shoulder which is distinctly not his.
“Oh… right.”
You give him an apologetic smile, stepping in to take your seat, passing him his jacket.
You can't figure out what to say, your chest sort of aches with the thought that Danny now thinks less of you because you’re wearing your boss’ jacket. Correction- that you took his offered item of clothing off when you were cold to wear Billy’s.
That he now thought you maybe seduced your way into this position, that you weren’t actually good at your job.
Fuck, why did you care so much?
Dumb question obviously, you literally built your career from scratch with your bare hands, of course you’d be sensitive to people questioning your credibility.
“So,” Danny finally says, in his attempt to split some of the tension in the room, “You and Russo?”
“Y-yeah.” You whisper softly, “It’s… new.”
“That’s cool.” Danny’s tone is casual.
You turn to study him.
“Please don’t tell anyone. I know most of the team sort of hates that I’m here, and I don’t want to give them another reason to.”
He nods, deep in thought, the curls in his hair bouncing as he looks at the screen in front of him.
“I won’t say a word. Trust me, the last person I want to piss off is you.”
You cock your head to the side, not expecting that response.
“Me?”
“Yeah,” He laughs, “You’re the person that caused some guy’s computer to explode from miles away without him even knowing.”
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fanfic writing culture isn’t “oh dang! I wanted to write about this prompt with this character but someone else already wrote it, so now I can’t”.
fanfic writing culture is always “two cakes is better than one. the more the merrier. there can ever be enough fics of this character with this prompt!”
Warnings: Anxiety, work drama, public sex, unprotected sex, zero prep.
A/N: Please love me still thanks bye
Everything is fine.
I am definitely not scared.
You gather the sheets around you, bunching it up as you bring your knees to your chest.
Nothing is wrong, it’s just in your head, it’s all in your head.
It was safe to say your first night back in your apartment wasn’t going well.
You’d been too insistent, too believable, smiling and reassuring Billy that you would be okay, that he was just a house away if you needed him.
Damn, you needed him.
I can hold out, I’ll settle in a minute.
He’d left you about an hour ago, after walking you here, and running through some quick improvements he’d done to keep your apartment more secure.
The windows are sealed, the doors are double bolted, there are cameras focused on the hallways outside your door being monitored constantly by his security team. He’s not far if you need him, he’ll come running if you call.
Still… it feels like you’re not alone.
Like there’s something lurking… watching… waiting for you to relax, to drop your guard, so that it can reach out from the darkness around your bed and drag you into the depths.
You shudder.
The windows are sealed, the doors are double bolted, there are cameras focused on the hallways outside your door being monitored constantly by his security team. He’s not far if you need him, he’ll come running if you call.
You should call.
Fuck, but you don’t want to give up so easily, you don’t want to surrender to the fear, to prove the stalker right- you don’t want to be weak.
The doors are bolted. The doors are bolted. The doors are bolted.
He’d come running if you call.
Your fingers reach for the panther hanging around your neck. Each breath you take is more unsure than the last.
What if he didn’t come when you called?
Should you try taking something to help you sleep? No- something could happen and you wouldn’t be able to wake up.
You close your eyes but the darkness gets in closer, and when you open them, the room has less light in it than before.
It’ll pass, it’ll go away. I just have to make it through tonight.
Fuck, you should keep the lights on.
He’d shown you hiding spots. Your closet, under your bed, places you could get to that would buy you time for him to get to you.
But your thinking was irrational, and you knew it.
What if someone gets in?
What if they’re already inside? The shadows at the corner of your room take shape into a human-like form. You stare at it, unable to blink, trying to ascertain whether there was a real person there or not.
No, no, Billy swept the place and though he refuses to admit it, he must have used superhuman abilities to do so.
Google says there’s advanced hearing, and sensitive smell, he’d know.
The windows are sealed, the doors are double bolted, there are cameras focused on the hallways outside your door being monitored constantly by his security team. He’s not far if you need him, he’ll come running if you call.
You wanted the panther. The sleek black predator that would lie beside you, let you curl into him, and watch over you while you slept.
The dangerous, lethal beast that wouldn’t harm a hair on your head, but would tear limbs off the people that wanted to hurt you.
Why couldn’t he give that to you? Admit that he was who you already knew he was.
Why couldn’t he trust you?
Your doors were bolted, your windows sealed, and all you wanted was that damned predator of a man sleeping beside you.
.
“You didn’t sleep.” Billy notes when he sees you the next morning, standing outside, waiting for you beside his car.
You resist the extra snarky response, your eyelids feeling impossibly heavy as you glance up at him.
“Thanks.” you murmur, reaching for your sunglasses, a migraine threatening to form behind your right eye.
You tug the passenger door open, and his hand immediately pushes it closed.
You resist the groan of annoyance, turning your head to look at him.
“You should have called me.”
You let out a sigh of defeat.
“I thought I could handle it.”
He pauses for a long moment, and you spend the time studying his hand, pressed to the door.
You long to be touched by him, but what you long for even harder is to be told the truth, so that you have the chance to know him, really know the entire person, than just the stoic, occasionally romantic man he gives to you right now.
You want too much, you think.
“I don’t enjoy seeing you like this.” He finally confesses, and something in your chest tightens because of it.
You close your eyes, sucking in a deep breath to get the venom of your thoughts under control.
“It has to happen.” You finally say, “Recovery isn’t easy, and the alternative is over-dependency on you.”
“There are other ways- more gradual ways.” He leans in, his chest pressing to the back of your shoulder, you feel your body relax involuntarily as his scent wraps around you.
He reaches for your hand with the one not pressed to the car. You feel your fingers interlock with his. He leans in, and presses a soft kiss to your neck.
You hum, tilting your head to give him more access, sharp tingles erupting from the feel of his warm lips on your skin.
“Promise me you’ll call next time.” Billy whispers, you can feel the brush of his lips as he speaks the words, his nose gliding up the column of your neck to right below your ear.
Common sense tries to break into your thoughts, reminding you that you’re on the sidewalk of a not so busy street. Anyone could be watching.
The nonsensical part of your head tells you that nothing matters when he’s by your side.
“Okay.” You say, and if you’re totally honest with yourself, you don’t even understand what you’re agreeing to.
“Thank you.” he places one final kiss to your cheek before he moves his arm from bracing the door to allow you to open it.
As previously discussed, this is my official correspondence informing you that there will be a security simulated threat carried out on Thursday at 12pm.
I have attached documents highlighting the scope of my simulation and the anticipated response time and protocol.
This simulation is expected to last approximately two hours and expected impacts are as follows:
Alerts to be triggered in monitoring systems.
A temporary increase in network activity.
Interruption of IT workflows while the team investigates and responds.
No actual threats will be introduced and no permanent impact on systems or data is expected. All security system configurations and data have been backed up in duplicate to avoid any loss of information.
A post-simulation report will be provided to review findings and recommendations.
Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions on the subject matter.
When the lights go out five minutes into your security simulation, you freeze.
That, was definitely not part of the plan.
You straighten in the darkness, trying to fight off the initial wave of panic that flushes through your entire system.
Someone turns on the flashlight on their phone, but it’s not enough, and you find yourself standing, in an attempt to find the nearest window and secure yourself to it until the lights come on.
“The back up generator should have kicked on by now.” You hear someone say to another in the darkness, and you blink, realising the accuracy of the statement.
You remain outwardly calm, closing your laptop and scooping it under your arm, using the light of your phone screen to navigate toward the door.
You hear running in the hallway outside, and you pause, sticking your head out, squinting into the darkness for any signs of trouble.
What on earth was going on? Should you find Billy? You step into the hallway, determined to find the stairwell. The area is dark, and it terrifies you, but the anxiety that this power outage could be your fault overrules the fear of a potential threat in the building.
Maybe it was coincidental, maybe the power failure had nothing to do with you.
You hold onto that hope as you push the door to the stairwell open. It swings much faster than you push, and you gasp in surprise as you realise it’s being pulled open from the other side.
Your heart jumps into your throat, a precursor to a scream manifests as a sharp breath before a familiar hand is clamping over your mouth and pulling you into the darkness.
“It’s me, sweetheart, shhh.” You hear his rushed voice as he tries to reassure you. Oak and jasmine fills your nose and your panic halts as you realise who it is.
“Billy.” You murmur happily, throwing yourself into his arms, still trying to hold onto your laptop, crushed between you as you embrace each other.
“I’m right here,” he reassures, “Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m okay.” You shake your head burying your face into the collar of his shirt and sighing blissfully as you enjoy the feel of him, “What’s going on?”
He brings a hand up to cup the back of your head, his thumb gently stroking the spot right below your ear as you hear him take a deep breath into your hair.
Was he smelling you? Could he breathe in and know how anxious you were?
“All I know is that power went out when I was in my office. The first thing I did was find you.”
“You ran down five flights of stairs in two minutes in the dark?” You challenge. He wasn’t even out of breath, you could hear his uncharactaristically slow heart as you shift your head to press your ear to his chest.
“What,” Billy murmurs, humour filling his tone, “like it’s hard?”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, his hands roam over your back and hips softly, as if feeling each part of you in the darkness comes second nature to him.
“You should probably find out what’s going on. I’ll wait down here-”
“-No,” he interrupts, “Until the power comes back, you’re safer with me.”
You raise your eyebrows, turning your head to look up at him, barely making out his facial features in the darkness.
“That will look suspicious.” You try to reason.
“Don’t care. I want you by my side where I know you’re safe. HR be damned.”
You find yourself smiling, heart tripping over itself in your chest.
“Okay,” You agree, “lead the way.”
He links his fingers with yours, and tugs you in the direction of the stairs. You know from your exploration of the building that the main power and UPS rooms are on the first floor, which is three or four floors below you.
Damn, at least you weren’t going up. Down would be a little easier on your feet, and the small manageable heel you’d worn today-
Your brain comes to a halt when he stops, two steps below you, turning, and looping his arm below your butt to lift you.
You gasp, brain sputtering for a moment as he continues moving down the stairs, not even a jolt going through you with how carefully he moves.
“I can walk!” You whisper-shout down at him.
He only had one arm supporting you, and he hadn’t even slowed down.
“I know!” He responds with sass, mimicking your tone.
“You’re soo not beating the kitty allegations.” You whisper quietly, pulling your laptop closer to your chest with one hand, the other bracing for balance against his shoulder.
He has the audacity to chuckle.
“Keep testing me sweetheart, and I’ll break every goddamned HR rule right here on these stairs with you.”
You make a small whimper of desire, mind running wild with all the possibilities.
“How can you even see?” You demand, wondering what excuse he’d find, “Aren’t you afraid you’ll trip and drop me?”
His hum sounds like one of amusement, not giving an answer.
“Hypothetically speaking, sweetheart, if I were what you say I am-”
“-You are.”
You can almost hear his eyes rolling.
“-What would you even do with that information?”
“Who says I have to do anything? Maybe I just want to support you.” You pause for a moment, deep in thought.
“It might be nice to know that someone like that is on my side.” You finish.
“Am I not enough?” His tone is flippant, but you know better.
Something cold and hard pierces your heart.
“No that’s not what I meant-” You rush out, shaking your head, “I’m sorry Billy. You are enough, you’re more than enough.”
The words have died a slow painful death in your throat. You frown as he turns onto his last flight of steps.
“I’m sorry,” You repeat earnestly, “I just meant- with every threat against me- it might be nice to know that the person on my side is not as easily hurt as I am.” You try to swallow the ache but it just won’t budge, “Because maybe the reality of it is that you can get hurt, and I don’t think I could live with that.”
When he gets to the first floor, he places you down gently, before he cups either side of your face, thumbs sweeping over your cheeks affectionately.
You drink in his comfort greedily, pressing your face to his palm, closing your eyes as you let the sensation of his presence soothe you.
“Don’t fret, sweetheart, not for me.”
You shake your head to silently disagree with the way his tone implies he’s not as important as you think he is.
“You mean a lot to me.” You murmur, looking up at him in the darkness.
.
In that moment, he wants to confess everything to you.
And if this was only about him- if it didn’t potentially risk Frank or Dinah- he might have.
Something inside of him aches so badly without you close, he dreads the distance he's encouraged.
He hears the growling of the panther in his head, so loudly that it drowns out every other sound for a moment.
He feels like he's been brought to his knees and the pretty eyes looking up at him are solely to blame.
He brings his hands up to cup your cheek, his eyes seeing clearly in the darkness, memorizing your face, and the way you look up at him with so much want.
Why was he doing this? Torturing you both by moving slowly when he finally had you in arms reach?
Your suspicions are right. I'm the panther that saved you all those months ago and you're my fated soulmate that I can't stop thinking about for a single second. Move in with me.
“Let’s have dinner.” He says instead.
He watches you blink, and glance away, and he knows he's fucking ruined something by avoiding the topic yet again.
“Okay…” you agree with a nod.
You turn, and you extend a hand, navigating the short distance to the door.
He doesn't want to end this here, and when you take a step away from him, he reaches out, and grabs your wrist.
He hears your breath catch, it echoes in the empty stairwell, music to his ears as he pulls your body against his.
He wants to apologize, to crumple like a man obsessed, give in to you so that you stop pulling away.
His breathing is sharp, the smell of strawberries all around him, everything about you- your hair, your eyes, your skin- all of it calling out to him in the most maddening way possible.
“Stop me.” He begs, as he drops his forehead to touch yours. Your eyes flutter closed as you enjoy the sensation of him.
How could you be upset with him and still be reaching out to him for comfort? Your hand squeezes his shoulder for a brief moment.
“Why would I do that?” You ask, tipping your head up, sharing the same breath with you, your mouths so close together that he could almost shake.
Inside his head, the beast rumbles, shows him images of you leaving him when you get tired of his lies.
“Because- I don't know how to stay in control around you.” The confession burns in his throat, he hates himself for this the most.
You give him a breathy laugh, your hand inching into his hair, delicate fingers tangling with the strands the way he knows your souls are tangled together.
“I don't want your control, Billy.” You say simply, pressing the lightest of kisses to his cupid's bow, “I never have.”
He shakes his head. You don't know what you're asking for and he can't explain it right now.
“It’s overrated anyway,” you say, drawing him into you, taking slow steps back until you trap yourself between his body and the wall, you tip your body slightly to place your laptop down, “What about us gives you the notion that we're in control?”
You're not in control either? He hopes he's the reason.
“We should be.” He says, eyebrows drawing together as the ache of terrible thoughts fills his head.
“Where's the fun in that?” You tease, lifting your head and closing the small space between your mouths.
He tries to quiet his groan but it echoes anyway, your mouth makes him greedy, cupping your face and holding you still so he can press scalding kisses to your mouth.
He hears a small sound leave your throat, and he knows he wants more of that, pressing into you, palming your hips to pin you to the wall with his.
He whispers your name, needs you to hear how desperate you make him, how quickly he would get on his knees and seat you on his face if you wanted.
You nod, humming, as if you can hear his thoughts and you agree wholeheartedly.
Arching into him, he can feel the swell of your breasts against his chest, he grips the fabric of your pants and wishes he could tear it right off of you without consequence.
He’s honed his sensitive hearing into the dark stairwell and the door right beside them, ready to move you at a moment’s notice, or just eradicate the person that dares to interrupt them.
You sigh into his mouth, fingers dancing over his cheek and well kept beard.
A small huff leaves your mouth, and he interprets the action as your desire to say something, drawing back just enough to allow you words.
“Are we really going to have sex in this stairwell? Where the sound echoes and anyone can walk in?”
He doesn’t need to breathe to know the idea of it arouses you further, he can hear it in the sharp uptick of your heart, the hastening of your breath, the way your grip tightens on his shoulder- daring him to consider stopping.
But his control is as thin as a piece of floss, further fraying with the sweet scent of your cunt, calling out to him.
He grins, and he hears your heart beat even faster, amusing the beast inside of him, who acknowledges that you like the way he looks when he smiles.
“I told you last time, sweetheart, if you tell me no, I won’t do it.”
.
You were definitely not going to say no.
“And if I say please?” You taunt, feeling all the control he gives you go straight to your cunt.
“Then I’ll do it twice.”
You laugh, giving him one last kiss before you face the wall.
He surrounds you in moments, kissing your neck, warm hands reaching under your shirt to cup your bra, tugging the material just low enough to skate his fingers across your stiffening nipples.
“Fuck.” You gasp into the darkness, tipping your head back, grinding back against him, feeling his stiff erection through your clothes.
Not a word is spoken between the two of you, but this want transcends words, it lies in the movement of your hips, in the unsteady shifting of two people trying to be as close as possible in a place they definitely shouldn’t be.
You take one of his hands, guiding it down between your thighs. You feel so hot there, and his fingers move over your clothed pussy experimentally, testing your reaction before his hands are sliding under the waistband of your pants.
You scramble to unbutton them, giving him more space to move his fingers, and he wastes no time gliding under your panties, finding your clit so easily, trapping the swollen bud between two fingers.
You press your lips together but a sound still leaves you, his mouth kissing at the side of your head.
You bring your other hand up, pressing into the side of his face. You feel him kiss the inside of your wrist, and that small act, while his fingers are expertly circling your clit, makes you lose any semblance of rationality.
You want him now, and you refuse to wait any more.
Finally, you find the will to speak. “Please fuck me.” You whisper, grinding your hips into his fingers.
He makes a low sound of protest, “I need to get you ready-”
You make a swift shake of your head, pushing any fabric around your hips down your legs, exposing your lower half to the open air except it doesn’t feel like it with his body pressed in right behind you.
You lean forward, bracing your hands on the wall and presenting your ass to him, groaning when you hear the quiet curse he sets free followed by the sound of his belt being undone.
You clench around nothing, very eager to wrap yourself around him, groaning softly as his cock rests on your ass when he leans in.
“Sure about this, sweetheart?” Billy asks bracing one arm beside you on the wall, and when it’s not enough he covers your hand, fingers interlocking with yours.
You don’t know how else to convey your desperation, nodding your head, pushing your hips back and forth, pleasure exploding in your head from the simplest touch of him.
He reaches down, warm breaths disturbing your hair as he notches the head of his cock against your entrance.
Your body resists at first, wet, but not quite relaxed enough. You hear him let out a shuddering breath, face pressed into your shoulder before he finds the strength to talk.
He doesn’t give you more than you can take as he works himself into you, moving with careful strokes as you grow used to his size.
It’s you that grows impatient first, and while he’s still being careful to make sure he doesn’t hurt you, you press back against him, pushing him to fill you to the brim very quickly.
Your breathing stutters, your walls clenching around him steadily as you feel yourself teetering on a weak orgasm.
“Fuck.” You breathe.
Your eyes roll back in your head, fighting the premature bliss, waiting till your pleasure is more manageable before you begin moving your hips.
The length of him fills every inch of you, and it’s hard to believe with how well you take him now, that you ever had any trouble to begin with.
There’s something perfect about your motions, it saps the strength from your arms till your face is pressed to the chilled wall, only able to move your hips in a slow yet purposeful rhythm.
He lets you take control, allows you to fuck back on his cock and use him for pleasure until your body is shaking and you can barely think.
“You.” He says lowly, his voice almost a grovel, drowning too deeply in pleasure to raise your head, you settle for turning your face just a little to let him know you’re listening.
“Look so perfect taking my cock like this.” He grunts.
A soft hum of thanks leaves you, and you press your hips back even more, body shaking with the overabundance of pleasure.
You feel different somehow, dictating the pace like this, an entirely sexual being chasing that high point with no care other than this.
You want to feel like this more, you want to explore this side of yourself in his bed, delivering pleasure to both of you completely bare to each other.
It’s not something you’re used to though, and after a few minutes, you’re unable to hold your pace.
Which is when you feel him take over. Your boyfriend.
His fingers tighten on your hips, in a way that you love even though you know it's going to bruise. You'll wear them with pride, enjoying the marks he gives you that show his claim.
His first thrust is deep, hard, the tip of his cock pressing right into that spot inside you that makes you tremble violently, tears springing to your eyes as you barely comprehend the pleasure.
He pants in your ear, trying to be quiet but you can hear how good it feels for him in the stuttering of his breath.
Your bodies meet with a slapping sound, you're almost ashamed at the way it echoes in the stairwell, the shame only making it that much sweeter.
Someone could find you here, pressed against this wall, sweat sticking your hair to your cheeks, taking your boss’ cock deep into your pussy…like a whore. The thought makes you clench, his grip tightening on your hips.
It pulls a smile onto your face, one he can't see, but his pace quickens and it's all you need to fall apart.
It isn't the most comfortable orgasm, but it hits you like a fucking truck all the same, body trembling, a whimper you can't restrain leaving your mouth, and your eyes rolling back in your head in the darkness.
His hips stutter, and you feel his cock pulse, cum coating your greedy walls, tightening at the sensation of his release.
Billy gasps into your ear, trying to catch his breath, pressing his forehead to your temple. After a few short moments, the reality of what you've just done makes you laugh.
You turn your head to catch sight of him properly, a warm look on his face as you meet his eyes.
“I can't believe we just did that.” You whisper, his cock still deep inside of you, still pulsing, one of his hands release your hip, sliding over your womb, the sensation soothing you in a way you don't quite understand but you don’t fight it.
His smile deepens.
“I can't resist you.” He whispers, “I don't want to.”
You tip your chin up, and he leans in for a kiss.
.
…And after all of that, you're expected to work.
Sore from all your vigorous activities, legs wobbly and heart pounding just a little bit harder than usual, you suck in deep slow breaths as you listen to the sheer incompetence that happened to cause the power outage.
You glance at Billy, his stoic features as he listens, a touch of displeasure on the set of his brows and the only thought on your mind is how badly you want him.
….again.
How much sex could you have before your body gave up? You had a general idea from your second night together, but you wanted to push that even now.
You're a little distracted that you miss a bit of the explanation, only zoning back in when you feel that the conversation is about you.
“-only warned us about a possible test, maybe not the exact time, we might have been a little bit more ready.”
You blink, a world of thoughts going through your head and you're sure it shows on your face.
These dumbasses… pulled all the power… from all of the systems… and are trying to blame you for it?
You turn your head away, acting like you’re clearing your throat as your face breaks into a ridiculous grin.
“I don’t know why you think this is funny.” Keith, one of the associates working under Phil says aggressively.
You can’t help it, your shoulders start shaking as you laugh, holding up a finger as you turn away fully, dropping your head, trying really hard to pull yourself together.
It was really unprofessional of you, especially in front of the company's CEO, but you literally couldn't help it, you were running on such little sleep that your mind might have snapped into delirium, finding humor in what would most likely be a ton of work to ensure that all the systems were back online like normal.
And somehow… it was your fault.
Typical.
You turn back to the group of three men, dabbing at the corner of your eyes where tears of laughter have formed, no longer trying to hide your expressions.
“Sorry, just trying to understand which part of the SOP says to panic and cut all power to the building.”
Keith doesn’t say anything, but his eyes narrow sharply on you, and you realise that by saying this in Billy’s presence, you’ve made an enemy of him.
Evidently, he’d have to get in line.
Beside you, something in Billy shifts- you can almost feel it in the air, a tension that prolongs the silence. You keep your eyes on Keith as his focus shifts from you to the predator in a man’s body beside you.
“That’s a fair point.” His deep voice sounds calm, but there’s an undercurrent of warning, something you’re not sure is tangible enough for Keith to notice, or if to him, something just feels off.
“Who authorised a full shutdown?” He continues, and you watch as both men stiffen, avoiding eye contact and choosing to count the eyelets on their shoes instead.
You weren’t sure if his silent support of you was intentional or not, but it was definitely hot as fuck. To have him on your side, defending you, trusting in your word, it felt like something beautifully unfamiliar, but very welcome.
Your body warms, you glance away as your core tightens eagerly, as though you hadn’t just taken him in the stairwell moments before. God, you’d become so fucking insatiable for him.
The lights coming on distracts you from your thoughts, just as Phil comes back into the room with the head of maintenance. You don’t like the way their eyes both land on you, some sort of accusation there, that this was your fault.
You clear your throat, eager to get out of there.
“Okay, I’m gonna go check out the server rooms, make sure everything is coming online.” Laptop tight in hand, you look at Phil for approval. He gives you a small nod.
“Why don’t you go with her, Danny, in case she needs something.” Phil says, and in your peripherals you see Danny, who was the guy standing beside Keith, shrug, with a small ‘Sure’ of acceptance.
You don’t look in Billy’s direction as you turn, and leave the room.
.
He really didn’t like watching you leave with another man. The panther growled in his head, at the sight of Danny following you out the door.
He knew he couldn’t follow, that he had to stay behind and listen to these men fumble through their mistakes. The smell of you lingered- strawberries and your combined releases had made you a potent aphrodisiac, and the predator was desperate to breathe you in.
The shifters on his team would no doubt realize you were with him, and the men on security duty on the day of the elevator incident, and of course Katerina, with her knowing eyes- but no one else could know.
“If we’re running full-scale tests like this, I feel like my team needs to be included in the planning stage.” Phil says calmly.
Billy sees it for what it is- a subtle jab at you and your methods.
“That’s irrelevant at this point, a building- wide power drop isn’t a standard response.” Which brings about a strange itch in his head.
Glancing at Keith, “Who actually pulled the power?” He asks.
Keith raises his hands, “Wasn’t me, when the attack started, it looked bad, I heard a couple of guys suggest it, and then the power was out. I figured one of them must have.”
“Then what are you doing down here?” Billy follows with, listening to the man’s heart race with anxiety.
“I just came down to help.” Keith answers, sounding genuine.
Billy doesn’t say anything else, simply turning to walk out the door. He listens to Keith let out a sigh of relief.
“That fucker’s intense.” Keith says to Phil.
Phil lets out a hum of acknowledgement, “Do you know who pulled the power?”
“Yeah, didn’t want to throw him under the bus, but I think it was Danny. He’s still learning, we were isolating the server cluster for shutdown… he must have misread the control panel I guess.”
“We’ll deal with that later, why don’t you check each floor for any issues?”
Warnings (18+): Nightmares (Billy’s past, and flashes of his attempted assault), angst, murder, torture, smut, oral, thigh riding, choking, bondage, use of dilators, tail kink, facials, cum swallowing, talks of body insecurity.
A/N: It's been a while but trust me this is worth it.
You’re reclined beside the pool, watching him as he carefully mixes drinks.
He moves with careless precision, easy, fast, as if he’d done it a million times before.
Something twists inside of you, arousal, followed by a deep warning.
This was the man that wanted to corrupt you.
To tarnish your morals, turn you into something you’d never seen before.
You wanted to let him.
You wanted to be every dark thing, you ached to be threads in his hands, to be created- or rather recreated by him. You wanted to be his medium, and allow him the moment to be the artist.
You adjust your body, covered by a fluffy robe, a modest bikini underneath. You’d been feeling a little self conscious as your cycle rolled around, the uncomfortable bloating was familiar around this time, making you feel exposed, even under the thick robe.
Yet still, you found yourself wanting him
The beach chair was reclined at a comfortable angle, the umbrella above sheltering you from the occasional sun.
With your eyes on him, watching him work quietly, cutting a wedge of orange for your glass, you lift one side of your robe carefully, pulling it open.
He pauses, knife halfway into the orange.
The corner of your lip twitches, reaching at the bond between you, flooding it with your arousal for him.
You watch his shoulders lift as he heaves in a large breath.
He hasn’t looked at you yet, and you know he’s going to try his best to seem unaffected, because reminding him of your power over him, makes him want to assert his power over you that much more.
It’s a fight you know is coming, somewhere in your future, where maybe you’ll pull at him, and he’ll pull back.
You push the other side of your robe off your body and he doesn’t react, you watch him pour your drink into a tall glass, garnish it with the orange slice and some cherries and turn to you.
You smile as he approaches, placing the drinks on the table beside you before fitting himself into your seat, angling his body so that you’re facing each other with no substantial space between you.
You hum, pressing your face against his clothed chest humming.
“You smell like oranges, Billy.” You take another deep breath, captivated by the smell, pressing your face deeper, “You smell so good.”
They really do smell delicious, the citrus filling your nose, flooding the back of your throat.
He raises a hand to cup your cheek, the heavy fragrance of it clinging to his hands. It makes you feel impossibly euphoric, and you don’t really understand why.
You look up at him, his dark eyes on you, he leans forward a little and you close your eyes, expecting a kiss.
“Careful.” He says softly, “You're playing with fire.”
You groan internally, excitement warming over your skin, clenching around nothing, your arousal being pushed down your bond unintentionally.
You feel his fingers twitch against your cheek.
You open your eyes, looking up at him, finding the same desire in him that you feel.
“Does ‘fire’ want me to suck his cock?” You offer cheekily, blinking slowly at him in what you hope is a seductive way.
His expression is stern, but you simmer with delight as you feel his arousal returned through your bond. Like a hand, sliding over your skin, you grin at him when you realise he's not as unaffected as he tries to seem.
He doesn't say a word, instead his hand drifts over your shoulder, down to settle on your hip.
“You're such a little brat.” He hums, and you laugh, leaning into his chest.
After a moment, you feel him tug at the robe.
“Aren't you warm?” He asks.
Truthfully you were a little, but God, your body did not want to cooperate with you today.
“I'm alright.” You hum lightly.
“You're lying.” He informs matter-of-factly.
You make a frustrated grunt. Cursing the bond.
“Bloated,” you try to explain quickly, “I just feel out of it today. I might have gained weight.”
“I don't understand the problem.” He says, his tail snaking around you to keep you close.
“Just uncomfortable in my skin, it happens sometimes.”
“Is there anything I can do to make it better?”
You smile fondly.
“I'll be okay, I just feel a little insecure about my body, you know?”
“Not really.”
You look curiously up at him.
“You've never felt self conscious about the way you look?”
He thinks back for a moment, before shaking his head.
“I've never had to worry about it, my whole human life I'd always been told how good I looked.”
“Lucky bitch.” You say with mock spite.
He lets out a breath of amusement.
“I think I was more insecure about my wealth back then, none of it was ever enough. I'd be dressed as nicely as everyone else and still feel like I didn't belong.”
You reach out to squeeze his hand in comfort. There really was no way to reassure him. You couldn't even tell him his life was better now, he was literally a demon from Hell.
You wanted to tell him that he belonged with you now, but maybe the reminder of his ownership wouldn't help.
“Growing up,” You offer, “literally everyone had something to say about my body. I was either too skinny at one point, too chubby, too muscular, my thighs were too thick, my stomach- honestly the judgement carried out on women's bodies is ridiculous.”
He nods beside you, raising a hand to run his fingers over your cheek.
“The judgement is awful,” he agrees, “but I hope you know that you've always looked beautiful to me.”
You give him a thankful smile.
“And you, have always been the most powerful man in the room to me.”
You feel your stomach flip, it makes your smile grow wider.
“I'm not more powerful than you though.”
You glance away, looking at the shimmering pool.
“Well, if you wanted to be, I'd let you.”
He grips your chin, turning your head back so that your eyes meet his.
“What do you mean by that?”
You swallow, voice barely above a whisper.
“If you grew tired of me, and wanted your freedom, I'd give it to you.”
His grip on your chin tightens.
“Are you saying you'd die for me to be free?”
You blink, a slow incline of your head.
“I'd rather die than force you to be here if you didn't want to.”
He takes a moment, looking for the right words, trying to read you like words on a page.
“That's your insecurity talking,” he says, a minuscule amount of anger curls at the base of your spine, “There's no universe where I don't want you. Serving you for the rest of my life would be a privilege, mistress.”
You let out a shaky breath, pushing your body up so that your mouth meets his.
Your lips blister with the sparks of his touch, arousal swelling like a wave, desire pulling at you, grabbing at your ankles to take you in its current.
He sits up, hovering over you, eyes ablaze with fiery passion.
He tugs at your robe and it evaporates in a puff of purple, you gasp as your body gets the cool air it's been needing.
You look at him, as his eyes look over you, studying your body, wrapped in the modest swimsuit.
You watch his tongue dart out, licking slowly at his bottom lip, a strand of hair threatening to fall between his eyes.
“You are very, very beautiful.” He finally says.
You feel your nether regions pulse at his words, willing him to say more through the bond, trying your best not to look down, to shy away.
He leans in, hands gripping at your thighs, squeezing the flesh of your hips.
“I'm so glad you're made the way you are.”
A seed of hope settles within you.
“Why?” You ask.
“Because it's your body, and your body is perfect, but also…” He trails off.
You push yourself into a sitting position expectantly.
“Yeah?”
He gives you a dangerous grin, leaning in till his nose touches yours.
“I can fuck you, however hard I want, and you won't break so easily.”
Your mouth parts in surprise, going dry, so much desire packed into your head, making you feel like you're swimming in cotton.
“Does this mean you're going to start teaching me how to take you?”
He takes a sharp breath, eyes going ruby red in the span of seconds.
“Yes,” he says on impulse, his cock, rock hard and aching, “let me give you your first lesson right now.”
He grips your hips, switching your positions until you're straddling his midriff.
“Get naked for me.” He orders, and you obey, stepping away from him to eagerly peel your suit from your skin. When you turn back, you find that he's lost his shirt and his pants, his cock standing up in the open air.
Your mouth waters.
“C-can I-”
“-No.”
You pout.
He gives you a sharp grin.
“Come sit.” He says, patting his thigh.
You swallow nervously, approaching him, trying to figure out his plan of action.
When you get close enough, he reaches to grip your hips, he kisses your stomach before guiding your knee over his body until you're straddling him, his cock fitting snugly between your thighs.
You stiffen for a brief moment, a little worried that he would enter you before you were ready.
“I'm not-”
“-I know,” you cut him off with an apologetic smile, able to read him, understand him so easily now with almost no effort, “It’s only a reflex.”
He lets out a soft breath, raising a hand to smooth the tips of his fingers across your cheek, you close your eyes as you feel the tingles spread across your face.
“That's the first lesson. Don't be scared of taking me.”
You blink several times, refocusing on him, trying to figure out how he could possibly know something like that.
You'd never given it a name, or even thought about it, but you were scared, scared of letting someone in, scared of the pain it might cause.
He holds your hips, pushing them back a fraction, to pull them forward again, your mouth drops open as pleasure erupts from between your legs as his cock glides against your sensitive centre.
“I know you, mistress, I can feel that small touch of fright everytime I get too close. I want it gone. I want you to trust me.”
“I do trust you,” you pant as he continues rocking your hips, “It's just a little bit of paranoia kicking in, my brain just makes me worry about the ‘what ifs’”
“I understand sweetheart, but if you're taking me, and you get scared, it'll only make you hurt worse. So I need you to trust me, I need you to relax for me. I need you to understand that I'd choose Hell over having you be afraid of me.”
You groan, tipping your head back, your hips beginning to undulate on their own.
“Good, mistress, rub that little pussy on my cock, don’t worry about anything else.”
“Feels s’good.” You whisper, doing more and gasping in surprise when the tip of his cock bumps your clit.
“Yeah?” His hands tighten their grip, “You like using me, mistress? Do you think you can cum like this?”
You're not even sure if the answer is yes, but you nod anyway, with Billy, anything is possible.
His hands on your thighs, over your hips, you hear him grunt, feeling an immeasurable amount of want in the back of your head.
“You’re so fucking soft,” He grits out, hands gliding up to cup your breasts gently in each hand, “Every part of you is divine.”
You whine, aching for more of his praise, wondering, if his words are more effective than your motions are.
You beg him silently to continue.
His fingertips brush your shoulder, trails down your arm.
“Every time I look at you, I’m thinking about how much I enjoy touching you, and tasting you, and feeling your perfect body shudder and shake. Those sweet eyes, begging me, always fucking begging me- “ You feel him tremble below you, before his fingers grip the flesh of your behind firmly, manipulating your hips into moving faster, the head of his cock gliding right over your entrance, a surge of bliss washing through you with such suddenness that your back straightens in surprise.
The temptation of being full of him, the nearness of this sinful act, feels euphoric, pleasure filling your head as he catches on the rim of your cunt for just a moment. You whine, wanting to hear him speak more, no fear in your body as he glides easily between your legs, your arousal coating his cock evenly.
“You have no idea how desperate you make me,” Billy continues, almost rambling, your soft cunt eager on his cock, he feels himself throb, body begging, unable to get what it wants.
“Nothing will stop me from having you, nothing will keep me away.” He grits. “I don’t care how long it takes, or whatever changes. You’re mine. This thick, perfect body is mine. You belong to me, and I am going to relish claiming you when the time is right.”
He comes at the same time you do, ropes of his own spend splashing against his lower abdomen and all between your thighs and cunt. You gasp, looking down at the mess you’ve made, feeling it smeared onto your body, shared fluids mixing together between your thighs as you both breathe heavily in an attempt to catch your breath.
Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, watching his cum be wasted like this. You swipe a shaky finger through the mess, bringing it up to your lips. He groans as he watches you taste the evidence of his pleasure, sitting up suddenly till you're face to face.
“From the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you. There's never been any doubt to me, of how beautiful you are, mistress.” You look into his dark eyes as his hand comes up to cup your cheek. You swallow, hypnotized by the depth of the emotion in his eyes, feeling it seep into you, intoxicated by him.
Your eyes flutter closed as you lean in, vulnerable to him, unable to stop until your mouth meets his.
Your demon.
You smile against his mouth, something… something you can't put words to enveloping every sense you have, his kiss, mouth melding perfectly with yours until you swear that all you can feel is him.
You break the kiss with a gasp, head against his chest, a hum of satisfaction leaves you.
His tail loops around your waist, keeping you still, your naked bodies pressed tightly to each other. You tug at the bond, and you smile when he gives his own pull in response.
“I'm glad you're here with me, Billy- and I know that sounds selfish, you've been through so much- but just the thought of us never meeting each other-” you cut off with a frown, not wanting to make it seem like you were happy that he went through what he did.
“I'm- I'm glad we met.” You murmur finally, looking up at him apologetically for your words.
He lets out a slow breath of amusement, watching you stumble over your words.
“You're acting as though you haven't suffered as well. Suffering is a part of life, mistress, Hell is everywhere. Some people suffer through life and never get close to what you and I have.”
The words are hard to say, but you manage to find the strength.
“What do we have?” You ask cautiously, hoping to hear him echo your own feelings.
He breathes, wrapping his arms tightly around you, crushing your body to his.
“Each other.” Is his simple response.
.
Each other.
You smile, the words echo in your head. Beside you, he sleeps soundly, one arm over his middle, your legs tangled together beneath the sheets.
You sigh, curling into him, wishing you could sort through the chaos in your head. All the things that have happened, the things that brought him to you. You were not happy they occurred, but you wouldn't change anything, if it meant you would lose him. How could you hate your past and be glad it happened? It was a very strange place to be.
If they had summoned any other demon, you would be dead or worse now.
Instead?
You sigh, half asleep and reaching for him in your head.
Instead you were here, warm and safe and protected from anything the universe could throw your way. All because of the man, the demon, sleeping in bed beside you.
“You're one pretty kid.” a gruff voice says.
You gasp, eyes springing open. You're not in bed anymore, standing in the doorway of a locker room, a little boy a few feet in front of you. You can see his face in the mirror, one of confusion and mild fear.
Beside him, a man places a hand on his shoulder. It looks affectionate at first, but you soon realise that there’s no love there, only perversion.
You take a step forward, wanting to separate the figures from each other. You move faster when you see the man's hand raise to cup the boy's face. No matter how fast you move, you're still in the same spot and after a few moments, you stop, realising that you're not getting anywhere.
Everything flashes next, like a video game with a low frame rate you see flashes of the boy being advanced upon, watching him fight back and hold his own for a few moments, before the man finally gets angry.
You scream when the boy is thrown to the ground, fighting whatever force holds you back, trying to get to the little boy, his blood splashed on various items around the room. When the man is done, he simply washes his hands and leaves. It's only then, that you're allowed entry into the scene you're watching.
You get to the little boy, lying on the ground, just as he shifts, and your breath stutters in your throat as he turns into the man you know today, right before your eyes.
“Billy?” You whisper in horror.
He sits up, his eyes have gone fully black, blood still splashed on his mouth and hands, face already bruising from his previous ordeal.
He stands, not sparing a glance at you, he stalks out of the room.
You follow, unsure of what's happening but knowing you were safest with your demon, regardless of whether he could see you or not.
The man is older now, when Billy grabs the back of his shirt and lifts him as though he weighs nothing, you note that his hair has slivered and his skin has wrinkled.
Billy's voice is rough, angry, he presses the man against a wall, fingers around his neck.
“How many?” He asks, the horns on his head getting larger, his nails getting sharper.
The man's face goes red, he kicks and cries, eyes wide as he watches Billy's demonic face.
His nails sink slowly into the man's neck. You gasp, turning away, unable to look at the horrors happening.
You hear it, the screams, the gushing of blood. Your breathing speeds up, you raise your hands to cover your ears as the sound echoes, multitudes of screams fill your ears, panic in your heart, wishing you were home, away from all of this pain and suffering around you.
You say his name, a quiet whimper, wanting your demon more than anything.
Hands wrap around your wrists, forcing your hands from your ears, you look up with tear blurred vision, to find a terrifying version of your demon looking back.
“Wake up.” He says to you, his voice cutting through the multitudes.
You gasp awake, sitting up, heart racing in your chest. Beside you, he sits up too, making you jump in surprise.
He looks normal now, no trace of the terrifying demon from before, you gasp loudly, struggling to breathe.
“What the hell-” You gasp, trying to articulate your thoughts.
His hand brushes your arm, you jerk in surprise, turning to look at him. He blinks, drawing back, feeling rejected by you.
You grab his hand before he can retract it all the way, you find difficulty in speaking, shoving your tumultuous feelings down the bond so that he knows none of it is directed towards him.
He blinks, inclines his head in understanding, keeps his hand in yours.
Your heart is still racing, trying to understand what you've just seen, wondering how you've seen it.
“Did all of that really happen?” You ask softly.
“Mostly.”
“That kid… that was you.”
“Yeah.”
You turn to look at him. He looks back with cautious vulnerability, an expression that you can tell is hanging on to your every word.
“That's why too much attention makes you uncomfortable. Those scars on your shoulder-”
He nods, confirming your suspicions.
Your face twists into one of pain, eyebrows drawn, mouth curved into a frown. You lean in, wrap your arms around your demon’s shoulders and you squeeze tightly.
He lets out a puff of air, hands wrapped around your waist to crush your body to his.
Your hand grips the back of his head, fingers carding through his soft hair, you turn your head, kissing his cheek, his temple, trying to apologise to him for something you didn't do.
You don't know what to say to him, what will make this better, you know that he's probably thought about everything you could possibly say.
Still, you have to say something, knowing that he has to hear it from someone that's not himself.
“I'm sorry.” Is what you finally settle on.
Muffled into your neck, he shakes his head.
“It's okay.”
“It's not. You didn't deserve that, no one does. I'm sorry it happened.”
He's quiet for a long moment.
“For a long while, I really thought I did deserve it.”
You feel a sharp pain spear into your heart at the thought, you squeeze him tighter.
“You were just a kid.” You whisper, voice cracking, “You were so small, you couldn't be more than ten. This was not your fault.”
You feel the anger overtake you next.
“Did you kill him?”
He says your name softly, and through the bond, you feel his reservation to disclose details that might unsettle you.
“Tell me, demon. I won't run.”
“When I was older, he passed me in the street, didn't recognize me. My left shoulder doesn't settle properly and he didn’t even remember my face.”
“I broke in, waited for him to see me, for him to remember who I was, but he'd done it so many times all the faces of his victims blurred together. I shoved a bat through his chest, and when I found him in Hell, I didn't have any mercy.”
You bend your head, kissing the first piece of him you can get to- his horn- his hands tighten around you.
“I'm proud of you.” You say into his ear, and you feel him shudder, warmth wrapping around your spine, feeling him reach for you, and eagerly, you reach back.
What do you and I have, demon?
We have each other.
.
In the morning, after a luxurious breakfast in a pile of pillows on the jetty, you lie beside him, sated and full, finally finding the willpower to ask the questions you've been wanting to ask.
“Last night, how did I see those things?”
He breathes out a slow breath of air.
“You were in my dreams.”
You blink, deep in thought.
“How did I get there?”
He makes an amused sound.
“Hell if I know, mistress. This thing between us, I've never had one for this long. I don't know how far it can go.”
You look up into his dark eyes, tugging playfully at the link you share until the corner of his mouth twitches, and you feel your pull reciprocated.
“Do you think- could we visit Father Matt again? Just to see what he knows?”
Something burns in your chest, the feeling is sour, similar to the symptoms of acid reflux.
“We don't have to.” You clarify, figuring that this sensation wasn't your own, but belonged to your demon.
“No, we should, he might have books on demonology that could help.”
You give him an apologetic smile, leaning to kiss his cheek softly.
“That's my good demon.” You praise.
You hear his deep intake of breath, and when you peek at his face, his eyes have gone full black, veins of dark blood spread from his eyes, fizzling out across his face.
“Mistress.” He says roughly, His voice having dropped a few octaves, a deep and unfamiliar sound that makes your lips part in surprise. It's a warning, you realise, that you've said something to elicit such a potent reaction.
It reminds you of the dream, of the way he looked- a monstrous version of himself.
He turns his head to study you, your heart pounding faster in your chest as you feel an enormous amount of arousal seep into you through the bond.
Your nether regions warm in response, eager to push his limits, to really see his full demonic capabilities.
“Which part of that excited you?” You whisper softly, aching for friction between your thighs, “That I called you good, or that I called you mine?”
He growls, a deep grovelling sound that leaves his throat, one of frustration, of endless desire, of warning.
Both, you assume, when the black veins worsen, spreading down his neck and into his shirt.
You study the beautiful veining, the way they spread like branches of a tree over his skin, you bite down on your bottom lip, excitement beating in your heart.
“You like being good for me?” You ask, reaching up to tug the collar of his shirt down, examining the veins further.
He doesn't answer, breaths laboured, his hands curling into fists, fighting himself.
You reach down, gripping one of his hands to bring it to rest on the space below your ass, skin simmering with delight at the feel of his hot hand.
“Answer me demon.” You prod.
He grunts, tipping his head back, closing his eyes.
“If you don't stop. I'm going to ruin that little cunt.” He warns.
“You don't scare me.” Your voice holds a hint of defiance, “You're always telling me that I'm the most powerful person in the room. You're my demon, and I want an answer.”
His eyes open, zeroing in on you, he reaches for you with his free hand, tangling it into your hair, pulling you forward until you're practically in his lap.
“Call me your demon one more time.” He growls, “I dare you.”
You swallow, having never tormented him in this way, excited to see where this would get you.
With your cunt achingly wet, you lick your lips.
“Fine.” You say softly, with an appearance of giving up. You pull from his hold, rising to your feet. He watches you carefully, no doubt that he can feel the mischievousness hidden beneath the surface of your skin.
Standing on the jetty, the sea breeze blowing through your hair, you begin to walk away. When you're almost to solid ground, you turn back with a grin.
“You're my demon, Billy Russo!” You shout, to be heard over the din of the ocean.
You expect him to stand and chase you, but when you turn to run from him, you gasp in surprise as you crash right into him.
It's so much worse now, the veins have spread to cover his hands, and you wonder absentmindedly if they've spread over his cock too.
He looms over you, somehow feeling significantly larger than you, even in this open space.
His breaths are laboured, and when he parts his lips, you catch a hint of sharp canines.
This, was the demon you'd seen in your dreams.
You take a step back hesitantly, you can feel the phantom touch of his arousal moving around you, your skin sensitive and warm, sparking at your desire in response.
“Where are you going, mistress?” He reaches for you, gripping your hips in his hands to bring you closer. You look up at him with wide eyes, feeling so deliciously trapped.
“Your demon wants to play.” He taunts, his voice sending trills through your heart. He dips his head, and you realise what he wants, rising onto your toes in response, angling your head upward, eager to kiss this version of him.
You think it's going to be aggressive, but it starts slow, your lips moving gently against his, feeling the desire grow inside of you till you're reaching up to cup the back of his neck.
It's what he's waiting for, he makes a hum of approval before you feel his influence wrap around you, the air going from breezy to still, the sound of crashing waves changes to one of falling rain.
You draw back, finding that he's back to his normal self, dark brown eyes, rosy skin, free of black veins.
He watches you as you look around next, mouth dropping open in surprise as you take in the surroundings.
There's a very large telescope elevated behind Billy, pointing up at the glass domed roof. It's night here, and through the murky glass, you can just barely make out the ripples of cascading rain on glass. There’s one area of the roof that's got heavy plaster smeared on, no doubt sealing the roof from ever opening for the telescope again.
There are candles spotted throughout the room that helps you see all of this, and when you turn, you gasp in shock at the beautiful sight before you.
What catches your eye first is the circle of stained glass, your heart squeezing at the resplendent scene it depicts. Fractals of blue glass, every shade you've ever seen, compiled to form an image of the night sky, interspotted with yellow glass to represent stars, and an ivory, almost pearlescent circle to symbolise the moon.
On the outskirts of the mural, are swirling yellow pieces of glass, indicating that within the glass piece, the sun is nearby. The mural is large, and where it ends, the art continues on in coloured tile intermittently dispersed throughout the walls and floor.
You don't get a chance to study that, because at the base of the stained glass, a bed, draws your attention next.
It's low to the floor, set into a circular wooden frame, surrounded by flickering candles.
Dark green sheets, you giggle when you feel his hands snake around you, his lips finding their way to your neck.
“Do you bring all your mistresses here?” You tease.
He rumbles in disagreement.
“Only the ones that call me theirs.”
You huff out a laugh, heart full, swaying as he continues to kiss your skin.
“What is this place?” You ask softly, staring at the glass, in the dark, you can’t see anything more.
“It was part of a monastery nearby, back when they studied the heavens in an attempt to understand God. If the rain stops, you can probably hear their singing echo through the mountains.”
You let out a soft sigh.
“And they just forgot about it? That's terrible. Look at this place.”
He hums in agreement.
“It's actually one of the more spiritual places on earth. There are a couple, but this one has been gladly lost to time and reclaimed by the forest.”
“Why here?”
He's silent for a long time.
“Before you, this was the closest I'd thought I'd get to heaven.”
You lips part, you turn your head to meet his eyes.
“What? Me?” You whisper, almost afraid to say the words out loud in fear that he comes to his senses and takes them back.
He turns you, hands gripping your shoulders tightly, all calm touches lost to desperation.
“You.” He confirms, tucking his fingers under your chin to tip your head up.
The kiss that follows makes your knees weak, you cling to him, gasping as your mouth works against his, feverish kisses that stop you from thinking, his tail wrapping around your thigh to keep you close like it always does.
It's familiar, but brand new, you can feel the way his need burns inside of him, like a fire that won't go out, it sparks yours, and feeds into his, like vicious and consuming cycle.
You make it to the bed next, trapped below him, his mouth never leaving yours, you're not sure how you got here, but you're not complaining.
Moaning into his mouth, you push your body into a sitting position, feeling the bed dips as he adjusts his body to sit beside you.
His thumb presses into the side of your mouth, hooks against your teeth, pulling your jaw open.
He pauses, stares at you for a moment while your tongue drags along the tip of his tongue.
You’re on the brink of insanity, you feel so intertwined with him, body crying out for any bit of him that it can get.
He slots his thumb between your teeth, your eyes falling shut as you breathe heavily around the appendage, sighing easily when he delves his rough tongue into your mouth.
All you can do is take, enjoy the feeling, unable to really reciprocate.
It’s messy, barely a kiss and more of an enjoyment of your surrender to him.
“Tell me again.” He hums, slipping his thumb from your mouth, holding your jaw in place purposefully. You blink slowly, trying to understand what he’s saying.
“Say those words to me again.”
“My demon.” You say easily, looking up at him.
You watch his eyes go black once more.
He slides to his knees in front of you, reaching up to tug your bottoms off, you lift your hips to let it happen.
“Need to taste you, mistress.” He mumbles, as if it explains his feverish movement.
He kisses the inside of your knee when he finally gets your legs bare, sighing in bliss each time his mouth meets your skin.
“You’re so soft. I love it. I never want to stop touching you.”
You groan his name, his words melting right into your heart.
He knows what he's doing, praising you relentlessly because he likes the feeling of your reaction to it, a warmth spreading out from the deepest parts of himself.
His hands squeeze gently at your thighs, enraptured by the feeling against his palms.
Leaning closer, his warm breath tickling your mound, you shiver when he kisses the inside of your thigh.
“So good for me.” He praises, grins when he feels your reaction, “You're so beautiful.”
You shudder out a breath.
Reaching down, you grip his horn with a groan, trying to urge him into moving faster.
He accepts your guidance, you part your legs wider for him to fit between them, and after a moment, he guides your legs over his shoulders.
“My mistress.” He rumbles, dark eyes flitting to you before he presses his mouth flush to your cunt.
You feel his delight, tilting your head back, gasping at the level of enjoyment he feels.
His tongue slides against your clit, sparks erupting in your head, you feel your body fall back onto the soft bed, a boneless mess.
He pauses, chuckling, retracting his body so that he can shift you, adjusting you till your head is pressed against the soft pillows, looking up at the curved ceiling.
His head pops into your vision, chest bare, he must have taken his shirt off at some point.
“Comfortable?” He asks softly.
You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding.
“Good,” he leans in to give you a quick kiss, “Enjoy.”
Your shirt disappears in a flash of purple, his mouth descending on your shoulders.
It's amazing, the way he feels, the delight coursing through his body as he touches you, the way it makes you more sensitive, makes you feel so much more desirable.
He trails soft kisses down your body, until he's back between your thighs, mouth exploring the most intimate parts of you.
It feels too good, you grip the sheets as his tongue works over you, kissing, licking, wet sounds of his tongue reaching your ears along with the sound of falling rain.
When you get too close to the edge, you sit up, making him pause and look up at you from between your thighs.
“I'm not ready to come yet.” You whisper, aching to prolong the feeling of this, the way you feel him and the way he makes you feel yourself.
He smiles in understanding, dipping his head, slows the pace of his tongue, explores you instead, delves into the most primal parts of you.
You tremble, the yearning so intense that your body shakes, and yet you close your eyes, and feel him, the demon between your thighs and the delight that fills him, the devotion.
You cry his name, feel tears slip from your eyes at the intensity of everything, your body aching for release while your mind demands you feel every second of denial.
You're everywhere, all at once, expanding from one singular point, he moves your legs over his shoulders, hands wrapping around your hips to hold your body tight to his face, cunt pressed flush to his eager mouth, the way it was always meant to be.
He moans, the vibrations soft against you, and then he moans again, delight and adoration coming from him.
Your head sinks deeper into the pillows, body arching, his fingertips pressed to your mound, holding you fast as you lose control of your own body.
You raise a hand, pressing it to your mouth on instinct to fight the scream you're no doubt going to release. An invisible force grabs your wrist, pinning your hands to either side of your head.
Trapped, you can only wriggle and his tongue licks over your clit, sliding from side to side, speeding up ever so subtly.
He hums again, and it's that low, delicious feeling of his desire that reverberates through your bones, locking them into place as your release slams into you.
Your back arches so forcefully that you swear you'll dislocate something, mindless whimpers and moans leaving your lips.
He keeps licking gently over you, soft, careful, attentive in a way that makes you grind against his tongue to prolong your orgasm.
When it's over, your body relaxes, panting, desperate for air, your heart pounding in your head, the back of your neck feverishly hot. You feel his invisible hold on your wrists release you.
He withdraws a little, kissing at the tops of your thighs, chin wet, leaving cool little spots over your hips as well.
You tilt your head to look down at him. You've never felt so many emotions before, yours and his, blending together in your head because you feel the same things.
“I would gladly do that forever.” He finally says, looking up at you.
You let out a breath, reaching a hand out to him, hoping that he can read your mind and know what you want.
He smiles, obliges, crawls his way up your body and covers you with his larger one, burying his face into your neck as your jelly arms wrap around him.
It scratches an itch in your brain to feel his large form over you like this, you feel so safe, protected, and something deeper, too deep to name.
“I'm not done,” he finally says into your hair, “Remember when I promised to teach you how to take me?”
Your breath hitches.
“Yes?”
He raised his body a little so that he can look into your eyes, the flickering of the candles reflected in them.
“I've got some… items to help you.”
He turns his head to the side, and when you turn to follow his line of sight, you see five phallic shaped objects lined up, the smallest being the width of two of your fingers and the largest being… just a little smaller than his actual member.
You gulp.
“Don't be scared,” he says, no doubt feeling your trepidation, “I won't hurt you.”
That, you believed. You turn to look at him, nodding your head, indicating your eagerness to begin.
He smiles, reaching for the smallest one with his tail. You lose sight of it, before you gasp, feeling it running along the seam of your cunt.
You look up, into his eyes, watching him watch you.
“You're so wet, this one will go in easy.”
He proves his point by notching it against your entrance, twisting it slightly to coat it in your arousal.
It's like his fingers, you determine, mouth dropping open in delight as the object fills you.
“Breathe.” He guides, and you do, feeling him move the object in and out, pumping it into you slowly until you shudder, easily accepting this size.
“That's good, mistress, this isn't so scary, right? You just have to relax and trust me.”
You swallow, nodding, eyes locked on his.
He withdraws this size from you, reaching for the next size up- the approximate size of his tail.
This one takes a little bit more effort, but it doesn't hurt, and you drop your head back, moaning as euphoria overtakes your body.
He chuckles above you.
“Yes, you're used to this size as well,” he whispers, pumping the shaft of the object deeper and deeper into you.
You whine, toes curling, a spot deep inside of you aching, threatening release long before you're even ready.
“Already, mistress?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment, you can feel that he's just teasing you, but his words still draws another high pitched keen from you.
“I'm not even trying, you're just that needy, hmm?”
You nod your head eagerly, feeling him drag the silicone object out and then back in, pushing it fully into you.
“Fuck- Billy- I'm-”
“Don't, mistress. You don't cum unless I say.”
You wished it was that easy, you wish You could make your body understand and prioritize what your demon wanted above itself. But it just didn't work like that.
His hand moves under your head, fisting your hair tightly, grabbing your attention, forcing you to look into his dark eyes.
“Don't. Cum.” He growls, his eyes flashing red, as if that's supposed to stop you.
You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath, trying to relax your body, looking up at him with teary eyes when you get yourself under control.
“Good.” He whispers, leaning in to press his lips to yours.
It's a good distraction, you focus on the kiss so much that you're not expecting him to reach for the larger size, pressing it against you with his hand when he withdraws the other one with his tail.
You shudder out a breath, looking up at him, feeling your cunt stretch, taking this size, feeling so unbelievably full, glancing over at the unused sizes, trying to figure out how much fuller you're going to feel with those.
It aches a little, and he pauses halfway in, to let you grow accustomed to the size.
His thumb brushes over your cheek, swiping at some of the tears slipping from your eyes.
“You tighten up when you come, it would have made taking this size more painful. But you’re doing so good, mistress, so good for your demon.”
You hum when you hear him say those words, tilting your hips up to drive the dilator deeper into you.
He smiles, taking your guidance, slowly working this size into you, before moving his hand away.
“This one stays for a little while, till you’re dripping around it.” He says, leaning up, and away, so that he can see between your legs. You feel his appreciation through the bond.
“That little cunt is so good for me. I can’t wait to break her in.”
You shudder, aching.
Experimentally, you squeeze your walls around the object, sighing when pleasure fills your body.
He gives you a breathy grin, watching you carefully.
“Good, get used to it. Maybe I should leave it in longer, it would be fun to watch you move around with one of these inside of you.”
You groan, he really was some kind of evil.
It was torture, you wanted to rock your hips so badly, your need to come was even worse. Your body was aching for release, and you weren’t sure how long you would be able to take it.
His tail wraps around your thigh, pressing gently against your clit. Your body shudders in response.
“Does it hurt at all?” He asks.
You swallow, shaking your head.
His tail moves softly on your clit, relaxing you.
“I’ll let you come on the next size, okay?”
“Y-yeah,” you stutter, skin growing sensitive with the need for release, “O-okay.”
After a few minutes, he gently moves this one out, and then in, getting you used to the sensation, your eyes closed, when he finally withdraws it, and presses the second largest one against you.
You go tense.
“No, sweetheart.” Billy murmurs, his tail pressing down firmer on your clit, “Relax for me, deep breaths, you can take it.”
He keeps saying that, mumbled encouragements, you can take it, so sweet for me, relax a little bit more baby, you’re made for this, promise.
Your breath hitches when he finally works the tip in.
He’s used some kind of lubricant to help it move easier, you tremble as you try your best to relax, to remind yourself that this is worth something, that you wanted to take him fully.
It’s a little uncomfortable, but most importantly, it doesn’t hurt, you hear the rolling of thunder outside, or maybe that’s just the sound of your heart pounding in your chest.
“Billy.” You cry, a mix of pleasure and discomfort swimming inside of you, and he reaches to hold your hand with his free one, his words not stopping for a second.
“Perfect for me, sweetheart, you wanna take me so bad, hmm? Need to feel your demon’s cock fill you up?”
You nod, mindlessly thinking about it, the way he’d press into you like he did before, the way he’d move, the way he’d feel.
“Want you to cum inside of me.” You babble, watching his eyes go pitch black once more, eyes following the black veins as they trace their way down his body.
He tilts his head, studying you as you watch him.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for.” He says, his voice deep- almost a low grovel, “You don’t want that.”
“Why not?” You ask, absently realising that he’s still slowly guiding the dilator into you.
“I’m a demon, mistress. A prince of Hell. Evil.”
You blink, shuddering when the dilator finally presses tightly against that spot deep within you.
“So?” You challenge, trying to focus on two things at once.
“You think I’m attached to you now, there won’t be any letting go if you give yourself to me like that. Remember a few days ago when you offered to break the bond if I wanted?”
You nod your head, cunt full.
“If you let me cum deep inside of you, I’ll never want to let you go, ever. I’d own you, mistress, you’d never be free of me. If you ran from me, I’d chase you. If you hid, I would find you. There is no corner on Earth you could ever go to, that would rid you of me.”
Your lips part, cunt clenching as he slowly pumps the slick dilator in and out of you.
“Please,” you gasp, “More.”
He obliges, pushing in deeper, rocking the pseudo-cock into you until your toes curl, a loud roaring in your head that threatens a supernova.
You squeeze his hand tightly when you come, gasping, shuddering violently, your cunt clamping down around the large size, making you feel fuller than ever, your mind drunk on the pleasure you were experiencing, unsure of where your body began and his ended.
You drop back against the bed, apparently having arched your body so forcefully that your back had raised a little off the bed.
“Oh my fucking god.” You draw out, body still convulsing occasionally, shards of pleasure still cutting through you in waves. You blink, hypersensitive, feeling your skin flush with an abundance of heat.
His lips are on your shoulder, peppering sweetly over your chest, soft, ticklish even in its gentleness.
He was right, orgasms make you a little tighter, you only realise this when he tries to tug the dilator out, and encounters resistance.
He doesn’t try to force it, twisting the object gently, continuing to kiss your shoulders.
“Deep breaths, mistress, relax.” His free hand smooths over your face, delving into your hair, squeezing at your shoulders.
His gentle touches work, and before you know it, he can tug the silicone out without hurting you.
“Last one, sweetheart.” He murmurs, reaching for the final size.
You try not to be scared, to remember that Billy was attentive, and gentle, and would rather die than have you hurt in any way.
You barely feel it, sliding into you, only a touch wider than the last and the pleasure from your last orgasm numbs the discomfort of this purple dilator as it slides into you.
You take it easily, breathing deep and even, only hitching when his tail flicks gently on your clit.
“Good, mistress, so perfect for me.” He praises guiding it in till it fits snugly inside of you.
Is this what he would feel like? Pressed deep, so deep you could feel it in your throat?
You blink up at him, wishing it were him inside of you, and not this unfeeling thing.
You feel a tug at the connection between you, telling you that he felt the exact same way.
“That demon I saw in your dreams last night, that was the real you.” You say, no question in your tone, already suspecting the answer.
You watch his throat bob, nodding.
“Will you show me?” You ask, clenching gently around the dilator.
He exhales, nodding again, backing away from you, stepping off the bed to show you his full form.
The first thing you see is his nails sharpen, then his horns growing larger, eyes going fully black, and then the beautiful dark veins spreading over his body. The darkness pools at the tips of his fingers, fading into his natural skin as it moves up his wrist.
He looks bigger somehow, more menacing, an aura of darkness unleashes itself around him and it only arouses you more.
You glance down at the boxers he’s still wearing, watching the dark veins torment you as they dip beneath the waistband.
You sit up, gasping when the dilator feels bigger in this position, you take your time, crawling on all fours till you’re sitting on the bed just in front of him.
Your demon is beautiful, ethereal, and without a doubt, pure evil.
You smile up at him, reaching for either side of his boxers, excitement deepening when he doesn’t stop you.
The veins do in fact extend lightly over his large cock, and you moan when you observe that the tip is untouched, remaining pink, beads of precum pooling on his slit.
You look up at him, his chest heaving, fingers curled into fists, watching as you extend your tongue to softly lick at the head of his cock.
You moan at his taste, eagerly wrapping your lips around the head of him, sucking eagerly.
Big, deliciously big that you have to raise a hand to work at the base of him while you suck slowly on his tip. Every now and then, you look up at him to remind yourself that he looks like that.
So unbelievably gorgeous, you take him as deep into your mouth as you can, wanting to feel him fill your mouth, take up space in your throat, own you.
You moan, reaching down between your legs with your other hand, you gently slide the dilator in an out of you, using it to fuck yourself while you suck him off.
His hand grips the back of your head, nails scraping gently on your scalp.
“Filthy little mistress, likes being full on both ends.”
You whine at his words, flicking your eyes up to meet his dark ones.
He’s so divine, you want to tell him but you can’t spare the air it would take.
Instead you nod, forcing him deeper into your mouth.
He moans, his pleasure settling at the base of your spine, hand guiding your head up and down on his cock, panting as he looks down at you.
You want him to come in your mouth, to make you cum drunk and able to take him better. You rock your hips harder on the dilator inside you, feeling so full that you’re not sure how you’re ever going to survive without him inside of you.
You hasten the movement of your hands, abandoning your own pleasure to ensure he experiences his.
“Mistress,” He gasps, tilting his head back, you stroke him faster eagerly.
You’re greedy for his cum, he groans loudly as he spills himself into your mouth. You lose control of the quantity, some of it dripping down your chin and falling onto your breasts as you try your best to swallow.
You draw back with a gasp, and a final bit of his cum hits your cheek. You wipe your lips, sucking your fingers into your mouth, to try cleaning yourself up.
There’s too much of his spend on your skin though, and you don’t get the chance to try fully before his hand is wrapped around your throat.
You’re pressed to the bed suddenly, his body over yours, dark eyes looking at you as you feel your head go hazy.
You moan, writhing under his grip so that he’s forced to squeeze tighter, loving the attention as you get high on his cum.
Ropes wrap around your wrists, over your knees, spreading them wide the way he’s done before.
You moan when you feel him wipe at your chin and cheek, cleaning the remnants of his cum from your skin.
“My demon.” You whisper, arching your back, not trying to break free, but to beg him to fuck you any way he wanted.
The only answer you receive, is the feeling of him gripping the ends of the dilator, tugging it out slowly before pressing it back in.
“You look like a work of art, mistress.” He murmurs lowly, “Hands and legs bound, the circle of candles, the way they light up your pretty skin-” He uses a single digit to tease your stiff nipple, making you gasp, skin oversensitive, “-You’d fuel an artist’s best daydream.”
You say his name on a half sob.
“I can’t believe I get to have you like this” He continues, his tail gliding over your thighs and to your cunt, “You’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
His tail circles your clit, as he slowly pumps the silicone into you, you thrash a little, the sensations are so strong, almost overpowering.
You stutter out a moan, fingers curling, unable to do anything except feel.
“That's it, mistress, show me how you'd take me.”
You gasp, eyes wide, arching your hips towards his hand in hopes that he gives you more. He obliges easily, speeding up his rhythm, your head so full of bliss that you can barely think about anything else.
He slides his free hand up from your thigh, to press over the space of your womb, he presses down a little, and you swear the sensations grow even more intense.
“I can't wait to finally fuck you, mistress. I hope you know, I'll be insatiable after. I'll probably need you so much more.”
You nod your head, easily agreeing, your body locking into place once more as your orgasm approaches.
You gasp, feeling him deepen his thrusts just a little bit more until it almost aches with how good it feels, deep, measured, something you never even knew you were craving.
You come hard, harder than you ever have before, crying out loudly as pleasure hits you at full force, your skin tingles, your cunt spasms around the silicone, holding it in place, euphoria spreading through your nerve endings, sparking heat that you can barely keep track of.
Your invisible bindings fall away as you go boneless, shuddering still as waves of bliss continue to move through you.
He falls into the space beside you, and it's through heaving breaths that you realise he's shaking too.
“Billy?” You say carefully, reaching to caress whatever part of him you could, the backs of your fingers tracing his shoulders.
He turns his head to look at you.
“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs, “I think I just felt every second of that orgasm.” He crawls his way higher, till he's face to face with you, studying you like words on a page, “Does it always feel like that?”
You chuckle, throat dry and a little achey from overuse.
“That, was probably the hardest I've ever come.” You answer.
He hums, eyelashes fluttering as he dips his head to kiss along your jaw. You tilt your head to give him space, smiling easily at his gentle and persistent attentions.
“If I hadn't come earlier, that would have no doubt set me off untouched.”
You groan, liking the sound of that.
The dilator is still inside of you, and squirm a little in discomfort.
He gets the message, reaching down, with a soft voice guiding you to relax, you feel him tug it out of you.
You let out a soft breath as it slides out, your body going from uncomfortably full, to very empty in the span of a few seconds.
“I'll be honest, I thought when we started, that you would fuck me at the end of this, but honestly, I don't think I could handle it.” You say, laughing as you finish your sentence, emphasising your own point by closing your legs, feeling how blissfully sore you are at this very moment.
He laughs along with you, a low chuckle of amusement.
“You definitely wouldn't, no offence, you're going to be really sore tomorrow, and I'm not going to help you with it.”
You blink.
“Why not?”
You feel his deviousness wrap around you. The look in his human eyes is sinister.
“I want you to ache, mistress, I want you to remember what I did, what you begged me to do, every time you move I want you to feel it, I want you to wonder how much worse it will be when it's my real cock, and not some poor substitute.”
Now why on earth did that arouse you so much?
He grins when he feels your reaction, eyes flashing red for just a moment, and you wonder if this was the corruption promised.
His hands drift over your thighs, up your stomach, cupping your breast softly on its way up to grip your throat.
You feel your body go pliant underneath him, you feel like his, a plaything for his desires.
“Ready for your bath, mistress?” He asks with a tilt of his head, and it takes you a moment to think about his words before nodding.
He scoops you into his arms, a pleased expression on his face when you wrap your arms around him easily.
Who knew that when you met him all those months ago that this is where you would end up? That one traumatic night would lead to something so… perfect.
He opens a heavy wooden door, and descends down a stone staircase, it opens up into a hallway, made of the same stone. You lose focus of where you're going in favour of snuggling into him, nose buried in his chest that you almost ignore the first sparkle you see.
You raise your head, mouth dropping open in surprise when he walks past a little table piled high with shiny gems.
“Uhhhh, Billy?”
“Hmmm?”
You try to say more when he passes a jewel encrusted, solid gold candelabra.
You turn your head quickly to watch where you're going, finding that the hallway is lined with dozens of these shiny, jewel encrusted items of different shapes.
“What?” You ask, with absolutely zero context.
He chuckles.
“Asmodeus, the demon before me, he was something of a collector, things that were lost to time, he'd find and keep them. When I inherited his title, I also received sole access to his treasures. I'd started to move it here, until I realised that he had way too much stuff, which is why you might find these things piled anywhere I could find a space.”
You watch, amazed as he passed another little table piled high with gold coins, except that a few of the piles have toppled, spilling gold over the stone floor.
“The bathroom is gonna blow your mind.” He says without elaboration, and you feel a touch of excitement go over you.
It does, you almost think you're dreaming.
There are several lamps scattered around the room, but the chandelier hanging from the roof acts the way a suncatcher does, sending fractals of light scattering, catching on the many shiny objects in the room.
There are so many shiny things that your brain can hardly comprehend, a glittering ship, that looks like it's been made out of the finest diamonds, a large floor to ceiling mirror made out of what you think might be real rose gold and the bath- the bath is built into the floor of the room, covered, absolutely full, of shiny gold coins, crystal waters still above it.
“You're Scrooge McDuck.” You whisper in shock.
“I have no idea who that is.”
“Cartoon duck,” you mumble absentmindedly as he approaches the bath, “filthy rich, bathes in his money.”
He huffs out a laugh.
“Yeah, I have no defence for that, I'm a duck I guess.”
The water is nice and warm, soothing your body from the minute he steps in.
He settles you against his body, your back to his front in the sparkling water.
A swipe of his influence, and you watch a little solid gold fountain start up, spilling water into the bath, the chandelier above head begins turning, the light spinning around the room.
It's so relaxing, you settle against him, the sound of dribbling water lulling your sated body.
“I can't believe you're this rich.” You murmur sleepily.
“We are,” he corrects, raising your hand to remind you of the tattoo on your inner wrist, “This gives you access to my things.”
You hum, deep in thought about that, the way he makes it sound like you were one.
He scoops up some gold coins from below, dropping them over your thighs. You feel the heavy weight of them, the way they slide off of your skin back to the bottom.
You feel his contentment, it melds with yours. You turn your head to kiss at his cheek and chest, the warm water soothing your little aches the way he said he wasn't going to.
It makes you smile, settling against him, heart full of something, so deep that you're not really sure which one of you is really feeling it.
.
“What about this one?” You ask, turning slowly to show him with the weight on your head.
He studies you, the lavish crown sitting on your head, a sheer robe wrapped around you that he knows will reveal your body to him in the right lighting.
“A queen I'd gladly kneel for.” He answers, eyeing you hungrily.
He watches you fight a smile, turning away to put the crown back, he feels your delight at his words.
You're examining a very long string of pearls when he decides to make his way to you. Billy breathes in your soft scent as he wraps his arms around you.
“These are really long, I wonder how they were worn.”
He hums, pressing his nose to your neck.
“I think these were made to wrap around the body.”
“Really?” You say in interest, winding them around your arm to examine the look of them.
“Let me.” He says, extending his hand, his cock stiffening in excitement of the way you'd look.
You pass them over to him curiously, turning to face him. He takes the opportunity to push the robe from your shoulders.
You gasp, and he tries not to let it distract him from his purpose, carefully starting at your neck, winding the strings of pearls over your body, he has to bite his tongue hard with the way they decorate your perfect breasts, resisting the urge to take you into his mouth before he's done.
Every curve on your body is delicious, and he crisscrosses the pearls several times over your stomach, lowering his body to his knees when he has to decorate your hips.
He's a little sinister, guiding the pearls between your thighs, ensuring that they're pressed securely to your clit before routing them between the curves of your ass, tugging a little tightly, watching you stiffen as you experience pleasure.
He pretends that it's normal, winding them around your body a few more times before securing it around your waist.
He looks up at you, his work of art, his mistress, he feels your arousal, worsening the longer the pearls rub against you.
He stands, taking your hands in his, tugs you forward, knowing that motion increases the sensations on your body.
He brings you to a mirror, turning to show you how beautiful you look.
Nothing stands a chance against you, he thinks to himself, admiring his work, watching you lift a hand to touch the pearls in wonder.
“Only thing that might make you prettier, is my cum soaking into your skin.”
He feels the exact moment you decide he's right.
“Only one way to find out.” You respond, turning to sink to your knees in front of him.
He groans, tilts his head back when your lips seal around the head of his cock.
yeah reblogging especially for my transmasc fellows who (like me) might be real uncomfortable with their chests and not know what to watch out for because we try to avoid this kind of thing (just me? okay)
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Well if a bunch of ants formed a circle in my house I’d certainly notice, try to figure out where they’d all come from, and possibly wreak destruction there.
That’s why knowing and correctly pronouncing the true name is so important to the ritual. Imagine how impossible it would be to not go take a look if the circle of ants started chanting your name.
And they’re like, you can’t leave because we drew a line made of tiny crystals - now you have to do us a favor.
And you’re like, let’s just see where this goes “yup, you got me… what’s the favor?”
and usually the favor is like, “kill this one ant for us” or “give me a pile of sugar” and you’re like… okay? and you do, because why not, it isn’t hard for you and boy is this going to be a fucking story to tell, these fucking ants chanting your name and wanting a spoonful of sugar or whatever.
And SOMEtimes you get asked for things you can’t really do, one of them, she’s like, “I love this ant but she won’t pay any attention to me, make me important to her” and you’re like… um? how? So you just kill every ant in the colony except the two of them, ta-da! problem solved! and the first ant is like *horrified whisper* “what have I done”
Warnings: Smut, smut, and more smut. Pool sex, and a sprinkle of a dominance kink. There is also actual plot I'm not insane.
A/N: I'm in so much pain right now.
You move up to him quietly, a gentle hand to the smooth skin of his back.
He turns his head to face you, eyes still closed, a sleepy smile curving onto his mouth.
You kneel in front of him, your fingers moving up to delve into his hair, hearing him groan makes you smile.
You stay there like that for a while, memorising the feel of his soft hair, the bristle of his beard along the backs of your fingers, and when you feel like you’re about to burst, you finally open your mouth to speak.
And then you pause, what if he just denied it? This was probably a big secret for him, something he might not be ready to reveal to you.
Should you wait?
Could you? Knowing what you know now, could you honestly remain quiet about it?
What would be the harm in keeping what you know to yourself?
You can’t decide on what to do, but you know you at least have to try now, or else it would affect the way you acted around him.
If he denied it, you would just let it go.
“Billy?” You finally say, soft and calm so that he gets an idea of how not upset you are.
His eyes remain closed, but his eyebrows raise as he makes a sound of inquiry at the back of his throat.
You study his gorgeous sleepy face, still not completely sure you want to speak.
“I know your secret.” You rush out.
Surprisingly, he makes a sound of amusement, a short laugh that has you questioning yourself.
“What secret is that, sweetheart?” He asks huskily, his low voice barely above a whisper.
You rub your fingers against his stubbled jawline.
“That you’re… the panther.”
His eyes open.
His eyebrows scrunch in confusion, turning his head to get a better look at you.
“What?”
You bite down on your lip for a long second.
“I know- I know that you’re the panther.”
He sits up, confusion fraught in his eyes. It makes you feel a little crazy. Was there any chance that you could be wrong? What if you had dreamt the panther coming to you? What if you were going insane from stress?
“I’m not sure what you mean. Is this code for something?” He remains calm, reaching for your kneeled form to bring you to sit beside him.
“It’s you. It has to be. When I first told you about the panther in the woods, you never- you never questioned me or tried to tell me that it was impossible. You knew, because it was you.”
“The panther that saved you? It’s not impossible, someone could have smuggled an exotic pet into the state, it’s rare, but not impossible.”
“N-no, it wasn’t an animal, it was a person, it was you.”
“Me?” He says incredulously.
You feel like you’re going insane. You close your eyes, gathering your thoughts.
“I get it,” You say calmly, “It’s something you probably never planned to tell me. And I don’t mean to try to force a confession out of you. I guess I’m here if you ever want to talk about… anything you want to talk to me about.”
You look up at him, hoping to earn some sympathy with your soft expression.
You watch the crease between his eyebrows smoothen out, he reaches out to cup your face in his hands.
“I appreciate the invitation.” He murmurs softly, leaning in, his lips brush yours, a slight tease before he presses his mouth fully to yours.
Like every time before, sparks explode in your head.
You sigh into his mouth, tension leaching from your shoulders.
You weren't sure if it was an admission or not, or if he was merely entertaining your accusation to keep you calm, but all of it is washed from your mind at the first touch of his tongue to yours.
God, he kissed like sin, wicked and delectable, threatening to devour you with the very mouth you adored.
You brace your hand behind you for support, to help you press your body more securely to his, his hand against the back of your neck, encouraging you to get as close as you can get.
He makes a small sound, as if he wants to say something, and you part your mouth from his to hear him speak.
“Sure about this?” He checks in.
“You have to ask?” You tease, leaning in to kiss the spot right below his ear.
He groans, tilting his head to give you space.
“I like hearing you say it.” He explains.
You grin into his neck feeling the need to worsen his desire for you.
“Yeah, Billy?” You tease right at the base of his ear, your voice light and flirtatious, “You like hearing me beg? Telling you how badly I want you to bend me over the nearest thing, and fill me with your cock?”
You sigh, kissing his skin, feeling him tug at your hips until you’re sitting in his lap.
“Just thinking about you makes me so wet, I can’t stop thinking about how right you feel when you’re inside me.”
He makes a low sound of frustration, before he grips your ass, rising to a stand.
You gasp, hands wrapping around his shoulders in surprise, your legs doing the same to keep you steady.
You want to ask so many things, like where, and how, as he approaches the door, you wonder what’s the likelihood of him tumbling down the stairs with you in his arms.
He manages to keep you steady with one of his hands, using the other to bring your lips back to his.
“-See, this is what I mean,” You pull back to say to him mid-kiss, “There's no human way you can be holding all of my weight with one hand and going down stairs.”
He laughs.
“I was in the marines, sweetheart, I've carried heavier for longer.”
You groan, frustrated at his lack of admission, leaning in to kiss him more.
At the bottom of the stairs, you're surprised when he doesn't stop at his bed.
“Where're we going?” You ask softly, kissing at his neck and collarbones as he walks, rubbing your body against his happily, after a moment, you tug the shirt of his you were wearing off your body so that you can feel his skin.
“Pool.” He answers, “Been wanting to fuck you in there for a while.”
It makes you giggle, gazing your teeth against his skin, listening to him grunt in pleasure.
.
A soft cry of bliss leaves your mouth, your head tips back against his chest.
“That's it, sweetheart,” he hums, kissing your cheek, “Take me deep like a good girl.”
His words only make you whimper more.
Your hands grip the pool's edge, he's right behind you, one hand plucking at your nipple below the surface of the water, his other hand sliding over your stomach on its way down to most likely touch your clit.
The room is dark, with only the auxiliary lights on, a soft atmosphere all around you.
You say his name, a broken moan as he just keeps filling you, rocking himself deep, taking your thoughts away with each glide of his cock.
You shudder when his fingers finally touch your clit, gentle, almost featherlight, you move one hand from gripping the edge of the pool to delve it into his wet hair.
He breathes roughly against your cheek, tongue darting out to caress the shell of your ear.
“Do you want to come on my cock?” He asks sweetly, tormenting you.
You sigh, nodding vigorously.
“Words.” He scolds.
“Please- make me come.” You beg.
“Is that all you want?” He pushes.
You fight to find sanity enough to respond to him.
“N-no. Want- to feel you come in me too, I want, oh god, I want you.”
He lets out a shaky breath.
“Me?”
“Uh-huh, all of you, everything, please.”
He growls, his both hands move to grip your hips, fingers pressing into your soft flesh, telling you everything you need to know about what he's going to do.
“Hold on.” He says, but you're not really sure where he wants you to hold, and you don't really get a chance to think about it before he pulls you down on his cock while simultaneously pressing up into you. The result is a sensation so full it reaches up to your throat.
The groan that leaves you is uncontrollable, and then he does it again, and again, a small, delicious seed of aching when he fills you to the very brim, your cervix no doubt protesting his length. It's completely overshadowed by the pleasure, the way your body tingles from the tips of your ears to your toes, you shiver, his breathing and the sound of sloshing water in your ears, your shared sounds of pleasure fill the room.
You grip his hair, tugging at his wet strands, toes curling beneath the surface of the water.
It comes slowly, but violently, even the feeling of being on edge makes you mindless. Your body trembles as he keeps going, filling you immeasurably from the inside, promising that this would not be the only time you feel this way.
Your body tenses, clenching around him, your hand curls tighter into his hair, your eyelashes flutter.
A low sound leaves his chest, you can almost feel the vibration of it on your back, a pure, unrestrained sound of desire, downright animalistic in its undertone, pushing you over the edge.
Your body trembles as you feel your center clench tightly around him, your body shaking as your vision darkens, pleasure erupting in your head, spilling past your lips in mindless pants and whines.
You can feel his entire length with the way you squeeze him, and after a few moments, your orgasm triggers his, and his warm cum spills into you, deep, right against that primal spot inside of you that aches for it.
You try to move, to slip off of him, but his hands grip your hips tighter, keeping you in place. When you turn to him for an explanation, he simply pulls you into a slow kiss.
.
He tries to keep you still on his cock, despite your restlessness, his instinct to stay inside of you for a few minutes after he's come overrules his body. You're aching, he can tell, and if he were more predator than man, he would bite your neck to keep you still while his seed takes.
You're soft and sweet and unbelievably human, his kiss distracting you from moving too much while he continues to fill you, everything about him is fixed around you in these small moments.
It's a little easy to keep you distracted, that spaced out look in your eyes makes you more suggestive to his whims, and you go pliant, kissing him softly while he waits for his body to be okay outside of yours.
.
You were growing to learn the things Billy liked about sex, things that made him lose control, things that he always did. For one, he loved hearing you ask for it. You could feel his cock jump in response sometimes when you gave him your explicit consent. It wasn't something you'd encountered before- but there was not much about him you had ever experienced with other men. He was special, in so many ways. The second thing was his desire to stay inside of you each time he came. Each time he filled you up, he held you still on his cock for minutes after. It was strange, But definitely not unwelcome. You thoroughly enjoyed the way he would hold you still, always wanting to squirm a little bit just so he would use force to still you, or find a way to distract you from noticing he was still inside you.
As he kisses you now, you stumble over the thought of, what if it was a panther thing?
He'd denied being the panther, but the things you'd seen- you knew it had to be him.
You draw back, looking over your shoulder, into his eyes for a moment, smiling up at him as your noses brush. It had to be him, it made perfect sense, he'd been trying to protect you this whole time, maybe even from himself.
Your heart warms, something endearing fills you. He was probably afraid to show you who he was, maybe even afraid of your rejection of him.
You needed to show him, that you would never turn away.
Smiling deeper, you tilt your head up.
“You've got a lot of endurance. We've been going at it for a while.”
He hums.
“Tired?” He asks, “If you can't take anymore, just say the word and I'll stop.”
You grin, shaking your head.
“I'm just saying- people don't usually… go for as long as you do, based on common knowledge. It's almost, dare I say, supernatural.”
There's a short pause, before he lets out an amused laugh, the sound sending shivers through you, making you clench around his cock that was still buried deep inside of you.
“I'm very flattered, sweetheart, but I shouldn't get all the credit, you literally make me so hard I can barely think straight.”
“Really?” You say in amused disbelief.
“Course,” he hums, “The way you look at me, the way you act, the way you talk to me- literally drives me fucking insane, and your body- fuck I love your body so much.”
You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief that this was the way he was spinning this.
“You don't believe me?” He asks, misinterpreting your laugh, one hand raising from your hip to run over your stomach, he huffs, blunt nails scraping at your ribs below the water.
“You're so- fucking soft, sweetheart. All I can think about is how badly I want you.”
Your breath hitches turning to look at him.
He smiles down at you, before you feel him tug you gently off his cock. You gasp in surprise when he spins you, and lifts you effortlessly onto the pool’s edge.
“Spread your legs, I want to see my cum drip out of you.”
Your mouth parting in shock, You do what he says without thinking.
You watch him, as he watches you with rapt attention, you feel his cum begin to slowly slip out, you clench to stop it from happening, but it's a little too late.
His eyes darken as he looks between your legs, and then remains dark when he looks up to meet your eyes.
He approaches you slowly, hands pressed to either side of you, his arms flex deliciously as he pushes himself slowly out of the pool, until he's at eye level with you.
You inch backwards, giving him space to climb out, his eyes are so dark, and predatory, fixed on you.
“Alexa,” he says out of nowhere, “moderate rain, please.”
Your mouth drops open as rain begins pattering over your naked skin.
He studies you, inching closer, grinning when he finally towers over you, water cascading down his skin in haphazard rivulets.
“If you let me,” he hums lowly, “I would fuck you on every inch of this house without break, just to feel the way you squeeze my cock when you come all over me.”
With shaky breath, you can only find one word.
“Please.”
.
He'll never get enough. He knows it for sure now. He kisses gently at the soft curve of your thigh while you sleep, your sweet body exhausted from how many times and how many positions he'd made you come in. He reaches up to your hips, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he notes the beginning of a light bruise from him gripping you tightly. He makes a note to get you some ice for it later. He smiles as he rubs his cheek to the soft of your stomach, his own back littered with scratches from your nails, body still swimming in pleasure.
He rises, giving a satisfying stretch, wanting to continue kissing you, but knowing you'll wake up soon and be very hungry. He places one final kiss to your forehead, before tugging on some clothes to start preparing an early dinner.
He's calmly freaking out about the fact that you know he's the predator now, he knows his act of denial isn't fooling you, he's not sure how you came to discover his secret, or how far you plan to push him in your efforts to discover the truth.
He knows that if he really wanted to, he could deny it vehemently, call you crazy, gaslight you into thinking that you'd made it all up- but that would make you hate him, and Billy couldn't bear the thought.
He couldn't come clean either- the more you knew- the more likely it was that you could get hurt.
His best option would be to avoid the topic altogether, switch directions any time you brought it up. He knew though, the first sign of you pulling away from him because of his avoidance would make him crumble.
It would kill him to hurt you.
.
When you wake an hour later, you grab the first thing you can find- a washed out t-shirt of his- slipping it on with a lazy yawn.
You grin when you remember the last 24 hours, the way you went at each other until you were nothing more than sated and exhausted bodies.
You can hear him in the kitchen, moving around, the smell of something delicious and garlic infused wafting through his apartment.
When you catch sight of him, you can't help the smile that pulls onto your face. In an old shirt, similar to the one you were wearing and a pair of sweatpants, he turns when he hears you approach.
“Good evening, sweetheart. How was your nap?”
You hum, smiling.
“Soo good.” You breathe, reaching out to slip an arm around his body, tilting your head and rising onto your toes for a kiss.
He obliges, soft and warm, he presses his lips to yours easily, laughing into your mouth when you don't seem to want to let go.
“What're you making?” You ask, between kisses.
“Honey glazed salmon.” He answers into your mouth.
You hum.
“Excellent meal for cats.” You tease.
There's a small pause before he lets out a low laugh, smacking the cheek of your ass gently in warning.
“Only the best for my favourite pussy.” He jabs back.
You try to ignore the pleasure that goes through your body as he spanks you. It's too gentle to give you a big reaction… but the idea of it…. the possibilities make you shiver.
You can't squash the smile on your face, the happiness you feel as you lean against him, it's the best feeling in the world, to be with him, there’s nothing that compares to it, like everything has been to get you here, beside him.
He says something, and you smile up at him, turning your head to watch him flip the salmon.
.
You're lying down, looking up at the sky. The trees surround your field of view, swaying in the breeze.
You let out a slow breath, relaxed, you turn your head to see that you're lying in a field filled with flowers.
“There you are,” a voice comes from somewhere in the distance, you turn your head the other way to see him slowly approaching. When he gets to the spot you're in, he takes his time sitting beside you.
“I've been looking for you everywhere.”
You wait patiently for him to look over at you. His eyes are dark, nervous, you feel the need to soothe him, dressed in a white shirt tucked into his pants, you notice there are no shoes on either of your feet.
“You found me.” You answer.
He blinks, some of the worry leaves him as he gives you a lazy smile.
“I did.”
He leans over you, a kiss to your cheek, one beside your ear.
“Now I have to figure out how to keep you.” He whispers, and your breath hitches, a slow burn working its way down your body.
“Keep me?” You ask softly, turning to meet his gaze, “Am I worth it?”
He blinks, A look of confusion spreads across his face for the smallest of seconds before he's smiling again.
He leans in, kissing your cheek, your neck, trailing a path over your shoulder. You find yourself tilting your head, allowing him the space to continue.
He pauses, right at the juncture between your neck and shoulders, hesitating before he speaks.
“Nothing on earth could stand against how badly I want you. From the second I found out you were real, I have been bleeding for you. It’s me, who can't hope to be worthy of you.”
You sigh, running your hands through his hair, admiring the way it feels catching on your fingers.
“Do you have a plan then? I know your secret. Would you lose me to keep it?”
He raises his head, meets your eyes, you bring your hand down to cup his jaw, lost in the haziness of the dream.
“I know your secret,” You emphasize, “I saw your teeth with my own eyes, you can’t hide from me, you can only lie.”
He blinks, parts his lips to speak.
You jerk awake when your phone makes a loud alarming sound.
He wakes at the same time you do, his body warm against yours, you reach for your phone as the notification continues to sound.
Your eyes hurt, forcing yourself to look at the screen, to read the words and try to figure out exactly why you’d gotten this alarm.
You grunt angrily, tossing the sheets back and stumbling out of bed.
“You have a security breach.” You grumble, leaving him in search of your laptop.
It’s hard to focus but you force yourself to, settling at his kitchen counter, opening your laptop and logging into the VPN that gives you access to his server.
You keep trying to wake yourself up as you log into the base software of his system, waiting patiently to see what’s going on.
Billy stands on the other side of the counter, looking a little concerned from his place across from you.
“They’re in the system. I can see the files they’ve accessed.” You mumble sleepily, “They’re downloading Project Medusa.” You glance up at him over the screen of your computer, watching as he reaches for his phone.
“Wait,” You call out to him, distracted by your computer, “Don’t call anyone yet, I’m going to trojan horse them.”
You embed malware into the folder as it’s being saved, turning your head to watch him come around to your side, looking into your computer screen, trying to see what you see.
“Medusa is a recon mission we set up for the government. We’re providing security at events they infiltrate in case things go south as an added layer of protection.”
“Why Medusa?”
He gives a little shake of his head.
“Case names are random, we’re not going to name them something that gives away the mission.”
“Then you have a leak.” You murmur, “They know what they were searching for.”
As you watch closely, you grunt in displeasure as you see the hackers attempt to download all the cases they can see, probably as an afterthought to sell the information to the highest bidder. The files they think they download are empty, you set it up that way for this exact reason, so no one person has access to everything.
“What’s happening?” He asks, and you can hear the worry in his voice. You glance up at him over your shoulder, heart tugging at the look on his face.
“Call someone you trust, tell them to do a sweep of Anvil. I can’t do anything about the information they got, but I can find them now once they open the file. If you have anyone on the field right now on this case, find a way to get them to withdraw without giving away that we know.”
He studies you for a long moment, you glance back at your computer warily, assuming that he doesn't trust what you're saying.
“I don't have time to explain, you just have to trust me. I'll have their location in a minute.”
You see him nod in his peripherals, turning away to type a number into his phone.
When the hacker opens up your file, you grin, snapping a photo of the location with your phone and sliding it across for Billy to see. You press a finger to your lips, a sign to keep whatever he'd planned to do as subtle as possible.
You get access to their system without them knowing, and you take your time, searching through bits for anything important. The system is clean though, a burner system that only has the essentials, but you have their general address, and you use that knowledge to hack something basic.
“I'm in his smartfridge.” You say, accessing the microphone built in and pulling up the audio for him to hear.
It's a little garbled at first, Billy moves to stand over your shoulder, leaning in while you activate background noise suppression to get cleaner audio.
You feel warm, almost sweaty with the level of concentration you've had to put out, heart pounding in your chest as you listen.
“-Other files are empty, she's smarter than I thought…”
You turn your head so that Billy can see you roll your eyes dramatically.
He huffs in amusement.
“-Are the agents listed there?” A deeper voice speaks.
You glance up at Billy, wondering the same question.
“They're coded,” he says, “The case handler is the only one that knows it, but it's related to their badge numbers.”
You assume if they know the code then the handler has been compromised.
“-I've got numbers, no names.”
“-No pictures either?”
It's Billy’s turn to roll his eyes.
You laugh.
“-At least we know when this is going down, and we know which Anvil guys are involved. We can set a trap.”
The other voice agrees.
“We're not going to get anything else, I think.” You murmur out loud.
“Yeah,” he agrees, “Is there a way for you to kill their systems? You mentioned it a while back, have you got it running?”
You give him a sharp grin, sharing a look of complete understanding.
You isolate the computer first, overclocking everything you can while slowing the rpm of the laptop’s fans so that the system overheats with almost no cooling.
“-Do you smell that?” One voice says, right before there's a small popping sound, followed by aggressive swearing.
You make an evil chuckle, right before corrupting everything else connected to the network. A software reload would technically fix it, but it would take time and effort to get everything working again. Your connection is interrupted, your screen going blank as there's no more information to display.
You lean back, taking in what you've just done.
“Anyone ever tell you that you're kind of hot when you’re causing trouble?” Billy asks.
“Kind of?” You say with mock surprise.
He laughs deeply, turning your body to face his so that he can lift you off your chair. You gasp, gripping his shoulders for leverage.
“Very.” He corrects, pulling you in for a kiss that makes your toes curl.
You gasp, lips parting for a moment, looking into his eyes, trying to read the emotions running through his head.
You hesitate, wondering if you should explain more about the events that just happened, worrying that he might blame you for not building a secure enough system.
“We should-”
He stops you with a shake of his head.
Hand cupping your cheek delicately, feeling him take a slow step.
“We’ll talk about it later. Right now, you need to be rewarded.”
“Huh?”
He smiles, eyes on your lips as he moves with you in his arms effortlessly.
“You're such a good employee, sweetheart, you deserve a reward for a job well done.”
Desire tugs low in your stomach at his words. You look up at him curiously as he sets you down on his couch, a mysterious look of delight on his face.
“Take your clothes off. I want to see you.”
Fuck, you were almost dripping with the way he spoke to you, eagerly ripping off your shirt and shorts, looking up at him as your body is exposed to the cool air.
He hums, tilting his head as he looks at you.
“A very good girl, always going above and beyond to make me happy.”
God, this was turning you on more than you'd care to admit.
“Get comfortable, sweetheart, open those legs for me.”
Fuck fuck fuck, you shakily spread your knees, exposing your wet cunt to him, swallowing the desire you have in hopes that it stops you from begging.
You watch a smile pull onto his face, locked in deep appreciation, he sinks to his knees in front of you, eyes on your cunt.
“Very pretty,” he murmurs, raising a hand to calmly pet at your thigh, after a moment, he inches up until this thumb is pressed lightly to your clit.
You gasp, body eagerly melting under his touch.
“I know I'm not supposed to have favourite workers, but honestly baby, I can't deny it, you're very special to me.”
Your lips part, head hazy with pure want, you watch him take a deep breath, eyes rolling shut as he makes a deep, raw sound of appreciation from his chest.
It makes you breathe faster, the way the sound rumbles over you, making you clench.
“You're such a good girl.” He growls, before tugging your hips into his mouth.
You tremble when his lips press against you, reaching down, your fingers tangle into his hair almost immediately, back arching up, head pressing deeper into the soft velvet cushions.
He moans against you and you can feel the soft vibration on your clit.
“I'm breaking so many HR rules.” He says into your pussy and you don't know whether to laugh or pull his head back to your cunt.
You cant your hips up against his mouth, sighing happily when his tongue finally swirls over your bud.
He does something new, using the very tip of his tongue around your bud instead of directly on it, making your body burn with the superposition of pleasure.
“Oh, God, Please.” You whine desperately, squeezing your eyes shut automatically as you beg.
You feel him pause and you open your mouth to beg again before he interrupts you.
“That's not very professional, now is it, sweetheart?”
You raise your head, opening your eyes to look down at him quizzically.
“What?” You ask.
He gives you a small smile.
“You need to look at me when I'm rewarding you.”
Your mouth drops open.
You're unable to speak for a moment before catching hold of your thoughts.
“Yes… sir.”
His eyes darken, you can almost feel the energy shift in the room to something so much more heady and seductive.
He presses his face in, no longer going gently, using his tongue with purpose, gliding it over your clit easily. Your breath catches in your throat, pleasure exploding under your skin like a fire that just keeps spreading. Your body tingles, relaxes, tenses, trembles and through all of it he keeps his tongue exactly where you need it.
It's kind of embarrassing, how fast he works you up, but you're not surprised, because it's him, and he's unbelievably good at making you come.
You moan his name loudly, and he makes a sound at the back of his throat in response.
“Already there, sweetheart? You really are a good girl, hmm?”
You pant, nodding eagerly, whining when his mouth meets your wet cunt once more.
You keep your eyes on him, watches as he reaches up to gently rub his fingers against your bare nipple.
Your fingers tighten in his hair, head dropping back and he lets you without complaint, writhing on his tongue as the pleasure builds and builds until your body is begging for release.
Breathing shallow, body trembling, you can't suppress the cry you let out when you finally tip over that edge, body stiffening for a moment before moving from trembles to sharp jerks as bliss overtakes every muscle in your body.
You squeeze your eyes shut, focused on your breathing, feeling the air move in and out of you as hypersensitivity takes over.
You feel him move, lifting himself from between your thighs that had been clamped momentarily around his ears when your orgasm had hit, but were relaxed for the most part now.
He presses his hand to your cheek, smoothing away some of the hairs sticking to your face, while he studies you, his bearded chin glistening with your arousal.
You sigh, reaching nearby for your discarded shirt, offering it to him to clean himself up.
He gives you a gentle smile, accepting the shirt, wiping his face with it, before using it to clean you up as well.
When he's done, he picks you up, cradling you close as he begins walking to the bedroom you assume.
You yawn against his neck, enjoying the smell of him as it lulls you.
You're pretty sure you fall asleep before you even reach his bed.
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tiktok is such an awful app, it's almost designed to feed you misinformation and expose you to insane discourse. unlike beloved tumblr, the app that feeds me misinformation and exposes me to insane discourse
No, no, no, you see on tiktok an algorithm feeds you misinformation. On Tumblr I feed myself misinformation from my charcuterie board of hand-selected unhinged mutuals.
Warnings: Full moon insanity, angst, mentions of stalking, oral (f), consensual, rough, unprotected sex.
Hard shout out to @idaofinfinity and @ittybxttykxttytxtty for helping me so much through wanting/ not wanting to write. I push myself too hard, I know, and I am forever grateful that you both encourage me to take breaks. I hope this rocks your socks off.
It’s stuck in his head.
The way you looked when he told you he was leaving.
The pain in your voice, the smell of your despair in the air.
There was no one more sorry than Billy Russo right now.
He sits in the isolation room of his design, his head resting against the concrete wall, the panther whining like a pained animal inside his mind, agonising over the way he hurt you, begging him to go back to you and make things right.
He closes his eyes.
He hadn’t meant to do it like that, so suddenly, he was going to ease you into it, tell you he’d gotten a work call, that he may have to respond, and then apologetically depart a while later, hoping to free you of some of the pain.
Instead, he’d blurted it out in the same moment that you’d finally admitted to him that you were ready.
To be fair, that very admittance had been the catalyst that had shoved him into an early spiral, the beast inside of him had started roaring in his mind, he’d almost lost control right in front of you.
He'd done it to protect you, that’s the only thing that puts him at ease. The possibilities of what could have happened if he were to remain in your presence worried him. The first time you'd been together, he'd bruised your wrist, there was no telling what he might do accidentally with the full moon almost overhead.
He takes a deep breath in and he can smell you, your scent still lingers on him. He'll have to get rid of his clothes if he plans to stay sane in here.
The panther fights him, tries to force him to shift prematurely. He groans, his entire body aching as he tries to resist it. He falls onto his side, his teeth elongates, breathing shallow.
He fights harder, tries to manage his breathing like Frank taught him all those years ago. He hates the way he doesn't have control the way other shifters do, that his past still affects him, even now.
He'll never be free of it, he worries he'll have to hide from you on every full moon to protect you from the beast inside of him, he'll always have to look over his shoulder, too afraid to lose control, too scared to give in to himself.
At least he can let go here, far enough away where he can't hurt you, or scare you with his bloodlust.
One of the bones in his shoulder bends. He grunts, takes a deep breath, waiting for the impending break to happen, his body trying to reshape him before he's ready.
It's the fight that makes it more painful, if he was compliant in his loss of control, the shift would hurt less. The pain helps though, keeps him human. He feels the burn of sweat as it drips into his eye.
After a few agonizing moments, the wave subsides, and he can sit up once more, leaning against the wall.
There are two screens across from him, built into the wall to protect it, one shows the live security footage surrounding the abandoned building he was in, near the outskirts of the city, the other shows the security footage of his home.
He's got a couple of cameras on the surroundings, but there's one in particular he watches, the only one inside of his house. It sits in the corner of his kitchen, overlooking the main hallways, and just in the corner he can see his living room as well.
He did warn you about the camera before he left, advised that he might check in from time to time. He wonders if that was your motivation for sitting at his kitchen counter and working right now.
He takes a deep breath, relaxes, watches the way you look while you work.
It sort of calms him, to see you, there’s just something so peaceful about you and the way you move. He wants to lie beside you and watch you, he yearns for those small moments where you're deep in your own thoughts.
Outside, he hears the soft drops of rain beginning to fall, like static, it fills the room, helps him focus his thoughts.
Now more than ever, he thinks about his dreams of lying next to you, something in his chest unknots, the idea of eternal peace at your side eases him into a shallow sleep.
.
The first night after Billy left was the worst.
It wasn't the silence, so much as the lack of his presence in the house. It's like you could feel his absence, as if something warm in the room had disappeared, leaving your very insides frigid.
You'd tossed and turned in your own room, struggling with feeling too hot or too uncomfortable, fighting hard to succumb to your exhaustion, but nothing would let you.
You’d drank tea to calm yourself, quiet music to soothe your mind, you’d even tried an audiobook that you’d listened to a thousand times because the voice actor had a particularly soothing voice.
Nothing.
There was always something wrong.
After a few hours of frustration, you'd sat up, pushed your sheets off, and stepped softly into the hallway.
You'd approached his room slowly, not out of fear, but with curiosity, wondering what his room would look and feel like when he wasn’t here to fill the space. Pushing his door open, you'd felt something so different overcome you.
It had been so much cozier in his room, the warmth you'd been searching for had cocooned you the minute you'd taken a seat on his bed. The sheets were soft on your legs, you couldn't resist lying down.
You could smell him, his earthy scent with just a touch of citrus and when you'd closed your eyes, you swear he was still here, right around the corner, out of reach, but still present.
It leaves an excited twist in your stomach, that you can curl up in his bed, grip the pillows he sleeps on, breathe him in.
It makes falling asleep so easy, that you could never understand what the problem was in the first place.
While getting ready for work the next day, you push open his closet door, searching for something of his that you can wear, to have him close.
You grab one of his blazers, finding a way to match the aesthetic so that it looks like it belongs to you.
It’s a little big on you, welcoming still, and you steal a scarf as well to battle the chill outdoors.
At work, you feel a thrill at wearing his items, delight in the fact that no one knows you wear his things and you sleep in his bed.
Work is monotonous without him though, every little spare minute you have makes you want to amble up to his office excitedly, only for your thoughts to stop in their tracks at the reminder that he won’t be there.
Dinah even checks on you at lunch, and while you’re happy to see her, her responses are clipped and perhaps a little more frigid than usual. You wonder if it’s because of his absence, if the only reason she bothered to put up with you was because of him.
You try not to overthink that. Maybe it was something as simple as her own job being frustrating.
She takes off shortly after checking in, leaving you alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.
It’s a big difference from life with him to life without him, the only thing keeping you intact is that there’s only one more day and then hopefully he’ll be back with you again.
At the end of the day, you smile politely at Sergei as he holds the door of the car open for you. Outside is freezing, and you’re glad to be in the warm vehicle, shedding your jacket and scarf as the heat soaks into your body.
The moon is full, and so effortlessly beautiful tonight, you can’t help smiling up at it, wondering if the myth about shapeshifters and full moons were true.
You marvel quietly at the realisation that you knew shapeshifters existed, and yet you managed to not tell a soul. You raise your hands, fingers tracing the panther hanging around your neck, hoping that wherever he was, that he was okay.
.
The back of his head hits the wall, sweat cascading down his neck as he pants.
All he can hear is his own rapid exchange of breath, and the sound of his fingers clawing at the concrete below him.
He grunts, pressing his teeth together as another wave of pain hits, his vision going dark, one of his ribs snap and he flinches, hunching forward.
It was almost time, the moon only hours away from its peak, he feels saliva drip from his mouth as his teeth grow too large for his mouth to remain closed.
The soft rain from before falls more intensely now, he imagines what it would feel like on his skin, uses the thought to steady himself. He’s been fighting the shift all day, but soon he’ll be able to give in, soon, the panther and him will become one.
Something on the monitor catches his eye. Someone moving through the downpour outside of the building. He can’t see their face, can barely make out the figure with the way his vision swims.
The cameras follow the motion, he watches something be left at the front door of the building.
He struggles to a stand, reaching for his phone hidden behind the monitor, uses his thumbprint to unlock the large iron door keeping him in the basement.
He tries to be quick, but his struggle with the panther slows him down, by the time he makes it to the front door, any trace of the stranger is gone.
He suspects it may be the stalker, but he can’t risk the chase right now, reaching to pick up the item left behind, a small lightweight box.
He gives it a hefty shake, hears the sound of fabric swishing.
He knows he shouldn’t be opening it, but instinct has taken over, he doesn’t smell anything dangerous, but opening a potentially dangerous package is still risky.
He blinks in confusion when he finds one of his scarves folded neatly in the box. Eyebrows drawn together, he pulls the scarf out, he can smell his own scent on it, and something else that drives him to bring the material up to his nose for a deep breath.
His eyes roll back in his head when he catches the pure scent of you, and when he finally breathes in your sweet pheromones, he finally realises the danger you’re in.
He scrambles back into the basement, tripping, the panther fighting him with full force. He initiates maximum lockdown and throws his body as far away from the door as possible.
You’re ovulating, he can smell it on the scarf, and the timelines make sense. He shakes his head, clenches his fist as the clawing inside of his mind grows frantic.
The beast inside of him wants you. Now. It fights to go to you, to find you, wherever your sweet body hides. He wants you, to drink you greedily down until he’s satisfied.
He’s your biggest threat now.
He hits the wall, again and again, fighting something intangible with every bit of himself.
The scarf is at his feet, he doesn’t remember bringing it in, but it barely matters now, he reaches for it, brings it to his face again, before flinging it away.
The sound of his own heartbeat fills his ears, the sound of his breathing all accumulates into an overbearing din in his head. He tries to cover his ears but it doesn’t help.
Everything is too loud, growing louder by the second, until it’s too much, until he can’t take it anymore.
Billy squeezes his eyes shut, and lets out a pure, unrestrained roar.
And then, everything quiets.
He straightens, takes a few calm breaths.
He finds his phone, typing in the four-digit pin, and answering the security question with ease despite his complete inability to think. When he’s done, his hand crushes it into fragments before dropping it to the floor.
He steps out of the room, the full moon above head, with only one destination in mind.
.
Your evening had been peaceful as you’d learned to appreciate being alone. You’d sipped on a warm mug of tea and sat in his sun room while the rain had poured all around you.
It was calming, and when you’d closed your eyes, you’d imagined him behind you, tucked against you while the world moved around you. It was such a serene thought, it made you miss him so much more. You wanted that with him, and you could only hope that he would want that too.
The evening had been uneventful, you’d taken out your laptop and sat in his kitchen to get a little bit of work done, hoping that he would send you a message to tell you he was doing okay, but you know that was unlikely when he was this busy.
The rain had gotten progressively worse, and by the time you’d climbed into his bed, it was almost a full downpour.
You’re sleeping soundly in his bed when the sharp crack of thunder wakes you.
You wake with a gasp, vision hazy as you blink, another flash of lightning waking you up just a little more.
You sit up, rubbing one eye as you look around.
A large shadow looms in the corner of your eye and you gasp, turning to it, your heart jumping into your throat in fear.
The room is moderately lit, and you manage to discern Billy almost immediately, the panic in your body dissipating.
“Oh my fucking God, you scared the shit out of me.” You gasp, keeling over to rest your head against the pillow, trying to calm your racing heart.
He doesn’t say anything, and the next time you look up at him, he’s still in the same spot, staring at you. He looks a little damp, his hair slicked back and you figure he must have walked through the rain to get here.
It unsettles you a little, you tilt your head, examining his white t-shirt and joggers, noting that his beard has grown a little longer than when you last saw him.
When he tilts his head to mimic you, face stoic, you gulp.
“Are you alright?” You ask, stomach flipping as he takes a slow stride toward you.
You study the serious expression on his face, wondering if he was angry at coming home to find you in his bed, even though he had offered it to you before he left.
Maybe you’d overstayed?
“I can leave if you want.” You suggest sleepily, pulling back the sheets to begin climbing out of his bed.
“Stop.” He says, and his low voice, almost a grovel, sends tingles down your spine, though you’re unable to separate the excitement from that small seed of fright within you.
You watch him approach, and after a small second of thinking, you feel the need to voice your concerns over the intensity of his gaze.
“You’re scaring me a little.” You confess on a breath.
He blinks, and then stops moving.
“I’m sorry.” He finally says, taking a step back, “I- shouldn’t be here.”
For the first time, you finally see the Billy you’re used to.
“No, it’s okay.” You say quickly, climbing out of bed to take his hand in yours, his rough palm sending tingles up your arm.
“You just scared me a little, I wasn’t expecting you back, but you can sleep next to me, I don’t mind.” You tug him to the bed, but he pauses just before you can climb in.
You look back at him in confusion, and then your stomach flips when his other hand raises to cup the back of your neck. Though his touch is gentle, it warns of something untamed below, pulling you closer to him.
You blink slowly, as scattering sparks spread where he touches you, mouth parting at the feeling he gives you, so much need for him swells inside of you.
He pulls you against his chest, and you go easily, wrapping your arms around his torso to try making him feel more comfortable. Though his hands are cold, his chest is warm, reminding you of how badly you’ve been longing for him.
His arms wrap around you too. You feel his face press to the top of your head, hear him take a deep breath, before a low rumble leaves his chest.
“You smell good.” He says.
“Thanks?” You offer, unsure.
His hands move, reaching down to grip your hips, and then smooth over the small of your back. You suck in a deep breath to fight your own urges.
He kisses the top of your head softly, and then he’s cupping your jaw to tilt your face upward, eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet your forehead, then adjusting your head, to place another to your temple.
“You’re pretty.” He murmurs into your ear, before he kisses your cheek.
“Thank you.” You breathe, more accepting to his compliments now, eyes still closed as his lips roam over your cheek, growing closer and closer to your mouth.
When he gets close to your mouth, he pauses, making your chest grind with want.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, a hit of teasing in his voice, as if you would deny him, as if you could. You smile softly, tilting your head up.
“Yes.” You say in a hushed tone, biting down hard on your lip to keep you oriented.
“Sure?” He baits, his mouth at the very corner of yours, his breath, featherlight on your skin, your desire like a pit in your throat that refuses to be swallowed.
“Why are you being so mean?” You whisper, as his lips grow closer, your eyes are barely open, but you still catch his devious smile.
He pushes at your shoulders, a shocked gasp of surprise leaving your lips as you feel your feet slip from under you. You fall backwards, his soft bed catching you easily.
Almost immediately, you sit up, looking up at him in disbelief, unaccustomed to such… ferity.
He doesn’t let you speak, or even think, before he moves, cupping your face in his hands and slanting his mouth over yours.
An explosion goes off in your head, your hands gripping the sheets almost painfully, eyes squeezed shut, trying to press your lips even firmer to his. Everywhere he touches, burns with blistering sparks.
You’re so much more than eager, beyond desperate for this taste of him, one that you’ve been yearning for, from the very first moment you kissed him.
A sigh against his lips, reaching your hands up to cup the back of his head, pull him closer so that he doesn’t come to his senses and pull away. You feel like a piece of a puzzle, relieved to be slotted into the place you belong, somehow knowing without a doubt that he was that place.
He groans passionately against your lips before pressing forward, guiding you to shuffle back on his bed so that he can crawl atop you.
You stay like that, sharing feverish kisses with each other, a quiet challenge between you to even think about pulling away.
His hands move down, tugging your nightdress up so that he can fit himself between your thighs, your clothed cunt coming right into contact with his straining erection.
It feels euphoric, the burn of needing him, separated by only a few layers of fabric. He groans into your mouth, hands reaching to secure your hips in place, taking the opportunity to grind his cock against you in return.
You gasp, more a hitch of your breath than anything else at the delicious contact, turning your head away to try catching your breath.
It’s not something he takes kindly to, his fingers wrapping around your throat in warning, his thumb against your jaw to guide your face back to his.
His eyes are dark, almost bottomless with the way you can see no light reflecting off of them. You don't have much time to look at him before his lips are on yours once more, something searing hot, desperate clawing at you.
Your moan is broken against his mouth, your stomach twisting as you realise you need so much more than what he’s giving you right now.
“Please.” You murmur into his mouth, hoping he understands you. You arch your back, offering your body to him.
A low grunt leaves his throat, and suddenly the top of your dress gets torn into two.
Your breasts spill out, and he moves from your mouth to kiss at your neck.
You whine, tilting your head to give him more access, tingles spreading over your skin at the way his mouth feels. Your hands roam his back and shoulders, feeling at his damp hair, a painful desire to explore every inch of him you can reach with the tips of your fingers.
“Billy.” You hum, and you hear him moan in response, his hand reaching to palm at your breast, your clit pulsing in retaliation.
You shudder when he plucks at your pebbled nipple gently, rolling your stiff peak between his expert fingers. Your skin tingles where he touches, sparks cascading over you.
A sharp sob leaves you, your legs wrapping tightly around his hips, the friction there is only enough to tease. Your brain begs for relief from the ache of wanting.
Your head falls back against the bed, too much pleasure searing your system to focus, his mouth working your body into a boneless mass, desperate for him.
You whine when his lips seal gently around your nipple, feeling a delicious tug inside of you, his other hand reaching for your untouched breast.
The breath leaves your body, head tossed back, feeling him, the way you yearned for him in the last few days.
The sound of your dress ripping further draws you out of the fog of desire clouding your head, you look down, realising that he’s torn your dress right down the middle.
You blink, a little confused at the strength he must have to tear through your dress without even hurting you in the process.
You suck in a deep breath, feeling some thinking redirect from your cunt to your brain, looking up at him, watching the way he studies your exposed form.
He lets out a shaky breath, withdrawing from you a little.
“I think you should run.”
“Billy?” You say his name for an explanation.
“I’m not- myself, and the things I want to do to you-” He huffs, drawing away completely.
There’s a war going on inside of his head, you can tell by the look in his eye that his desire is getting the best of him.
It’s exactly how you want it.
“I'll run if you promise to chase me.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know what you meant.” You challenge, sitting up and climbing out of his bed, “Stop fighting yourself, and come take what’s yours.”
When you say your last words, you drop the tattered remains of your dress from your shoulders, watching his eyes refocus on you.
He stands too, large body looming over you, lightning flashes again, painting him in a sinister light for a few microseconds.
“You have no idea what I want to do to you.” He grunts, taking a step forward.
You take an equal step back, playfulness in your eyes.
“I think you want to chase me, and I think I want to be chased.”
A primal sound leaves his throat just then, and your eyes widen in surprise. All you can interpret, is that it’s the pure sound of him letting go of his own resistance.
You take another step back, and then another, left only in your panties, you make it to the door of his bedroom before he begins to move.
Thunder cracks, somewhere in the distance, and you make it to his dark kitchen before he catches you.
His body is pressed firmly to your back as he wraps an arm around you.
“Telling you to run was a bad idea.” His hands reaches up to cup your breasts, you groan, tilting your head back as his broad hands explore you.
His voice drops to a whisper.
“It just made me want to catch you more.”
His hand grips your throat, tilting your head up so that he can kiss you.
It’s more passionate than before, mouth pressed hard to yours, tongue delving past your lips in an effort to devour.
His other hand slides over your stomach, all the way down until his slender fingers slip below the waistband of your panties.
You gasp when he touches you for the first time, careful fingers pressing in, no doubt feeling how wet you are.
He grunts, presses his mouth to your temple.
“You’re so wet for me sweetheart, is this what you wanted? Were you lying in my bed just waiting for me to find you?”
You can’t even speak, lips parted, eyes rolling back as he gently circles your aching bud.
Warm, all around you, his scent and his body, all of it filling your head with desperation.
His grip on your jaw tightens, and you peek your eyes open to look up at him.
“Answer me.”
“Missed you.”
He lets out a sharp breath, one that could be mistaken for frustration, if you didn’t know him, but you do, you can almost feel how hard he’s trying to hold on to his control.
He spins you, pressing you back until your behind bumps his kitchen counter, his eyes are so dark, and the only time you can see his face is when lightning strikes outside.
You don’t know what he’s going to do, but somehow, with the domineering way he looks, the last thing you expect is to watch him drop to his knees.
Eye level with your cunt, he leans in, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“So fucking good.” He says roughly, voice low as if he meant to say it to himself.
He reaches forward, grips each side and tears the soft material into pieces.
When you’re finally bare for him, he looks up, sinister clarity in his eyes, no control left to be seen.
“Ask me.” He commands.
You gulp, unprepared to speak among the desperation in your throat.
“P-please.” You breathe.
He keeps his eyes on you, shakes his head slowly as if you've said the wrong thing.
“Don’t shy away from me now. Ask.”
“Can you- please-” You close your eyes for a moment, trying to find the willpower, “-lick my cunt?”
He's silent for a while, and you have to peek your eyes open to see him.
He looks calm, a devious smile on his face as he nods.
“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He vocalises, before leaning forward to kiss your thigh.
His kisses are meaningful, trailing from mid thigh all the way up, his beard scratching along your skin slowly, forcing you to grip the edge of his counter to keep your balance.
After a moment, he grows impatient, hands wrapping around your hips to pick you up and seat you on the edge of the counter.
You gasp.
Holy fuck, how did he just do that?
You don't get any time to reflect on it before he's spreading your legs, wide, wider, shouldering his large body between your thighs as if he owns the space, kissing at the seam of your cunt gently, as if asking further permission.
You groan, the torment of having his mouth so close burns at you, and yet you can't find the strength to say something, or even move, only able to feel.
He kisses, and kisses, and when you're sure his lips must be sticky with your arousal, he parts his lips to glide his devilish tongue against you.
Though you’ve felt the expertise of his tongue before, the sensation still draws a gasp of surprise, the reminder of what this man is capable of, flooding your head. He grips your thighs, you can almost feel the ardour in his grip, before he pushes upward, forcing you to lie back on his countertop.
You go slowly, settling for resting on your elbows while you watch him slide your legs over his shoulders.
His dark hair between your thighs sparks an untamed flood of desire, going right through you, burying its need directly into your bones.
His tongue slips against your clit, the motion so smooth that your mouth drops open at the pleasure he so easily delivers. With purposeful pressure, he tastes you, drinks you down, something insatiable blooming in his eyes as he glances at you.
He delves into your cunt next, reaching for a pure taste, sighing through his nose, you watch his eyes blissfully close for a moment as his tongue dips into the most intimate parts of you.
He groans into your cunt, warm breath across your skin, and then all bets are off.
Your clit is given attention next, swipes of his tongue that make you almost dizzy with the pleasure of it, licking at you just right, steadily pulling you closer and closer to the idea of an orgasm.
There’s no pretence of teasing behind it, his tongue gives an expert display of what he’s capable of, gliding in circles around your bud, licking you softly ever so often to let you catch your breath.
Your skin tingles, the air in your body held in an almost stasis state within your throat, being exhaled only to be inhaled in the same moment.
Your elbows begin to protest the hard counter, and you let yourself drop against the chilly surface, appreciating the sensation against your burning skin.
He buries his tongue within you again, groaning, and then you feel as he drags the appendage out and back to your clit.
He caresses you with every part of his tongue, from the very tip making gentle flicks to the flat of it, that rolls evenly over you. Pleasure burns inside of you, building up, your body tensed and trembling slightly, silently begging him not to stop.
You whine, reaching down, in hopes that he’ll take your hand, and he does so easily, fingers interlocked, squeezing, desperate to come.
Ravenous now, the pace of his tongue increases to a near frenzy, outside, the rain matches his mindset.
Little sounds of desperation leave you, whimpers as he brings you close to your peak with just his tongue, doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, he centres your whole world around his mouth in these moments, whether he intends to or not.
It’s gradual, it’s euphoric, you feel yourself so close to the precipice, with nothing but him on your mind.
You say his name, an appreciation of him, and all that he’s capable of.
Thighs trembling involuntarily, you raise your head to look down at him, your hand squeezing his tight, pleasure building, and building, a rubber band, pulled tight, about to be snapped.
You find his eyes on you, half-lidded, The appearance of calm, but somehow all you can see is a predator eager to devour.
It's that very look in his eye that tips you over the edge, falling back with a cry as you shatter against his dexterous tongue. You forget how to breathe as hot sparks of spread in your veins, burning, decimating your very ability to think. Your thighs tremble, chest heaving and you can feel the vibration of your heart as muted waves of bliss crash through you.
He licks you softly as you come, prolonging your orgasm, ensuring that every ounce of thought is wrung from your head with just his mouth.
When you've given him your final shiver, and you rest sated on his counter, does he finally lift himself up from between your messy thighs.
Lighting strikes when you meet his eyes, something odd about the way he's looking at you, that makes you feel like if you try to run, he would not be kind about catching you.
That is, if you could run, but your limbs are jelly at the moment, and all you can do when you meet his eyes is give him a look of adoration.
.
Control, is a distant memory, fading ever further with each minute in your presence.
Billy has only one trick left, and he’s not sure how long it’s going to last.
He watches you struggle to sit up, thighs still parted for him, and he can see your cunt, dripping hot arousal onto his kitchen counter.
His vision blurs, the panther trying to force him to grab at you, roll you over and mount you like an untamed beast.
More ferarum, an old saying, the belief that though he may be human, and have a mostly human composition, his base desires was designed to be acted in the manner of beasts.
To mount you like one, to fuck you like one, there’s millenia old genetics gripping his disposition by the neck and demanding he do what he was made to do.
And his solution? The answer to his problems, is the very thing driving him to insanity.
You.
Because when the beast inside of him demands your body, he presses his nose to your hair and takes a breath. When the beast demands to bite you while he takes you, he drops to his knees and tastes your cunt.
And now, when the beast is demanding to rut into you like an animal, he takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes.
How sweet they are, eager for him, willing to be devoured, and he knows you have no real idea of what you’re asking for.
He leans in, watching you struggle to move your body into a sitting position, and when you’re close enough, he grips your cheek and pulls you in for a kiss.
Heaven, the taste of your mouth, everything about you wraps him into knots, tangled in the web of your desire, and he’s not sure if he’s ever felt so eager to be owned.
But then your fingers reach for his shirt, and he has to stop you while he has the capacity to think, having distracted the beast with the feeling of his lips on yours.
Reaching out, Billy stops your hands as they reach for the edges of his shirt, looking into your eyes for a long moment, unsure of why he’s hesitating when he has you here, ready for him.
The idea of your hands on his bare skin makes the panther tug at his mind. Why was he stopping you? He could almost feel the promise of your soft hands, his stomach curling in desire.
He feels the beast take advantage of his muddled mind to seize control once more.
.
You can’t see too much in the low light, but you know there’s an internal battle being fought in his head. You try to be patient with him, to let him decide if he wants to continue or not, and try to be okay with whatever act he decides on.
You’re definitely not expecting him to reach through the darkness and grip your jaw.
But god, does it feel good.
“Had enough?”
It’s definitely not something you expected him to say.
It’s hard to shake your head with his fingers pressing into your jaw but you do your best to anyway.
“Please,” You whisper, unable to voice your need, “Please.”
You feel his grip on your jaw tighten.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His voice is so deep it washes over your bare skin like a gentle caress.
“You. I’m asking for you.”
He lets out a sharp breath.
“You shouldn’t want me.”
And yet, you do.
You whine, moving a hand slowly between your thighs, your intention is to either ease the ache inside of you, or get a reaction out of him.
You get the latter, with his hand reaching out to stop yours.
When he does nothing, you groan angrily.
“Please, please, please fuck me, Billy.”
In the darkness, you can’t see his grin, but you know it’s there from the way he says his next words.
“That was all you had to say.”
And then so many things happen at once.
He grips your hips, lifting you off the counter and bringing you against his body. You squeak in surprise, not enough time to marvel at his strength before one hand is under your ass, supporting your weight, and the next hand is gripping the back of your head to kiss you, hard.
You respond readily, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips while eagerly tugging his shirt up.
Smiling into the kiss as he has no choice but to let you undress him, raising the hand gripping your hair to help you get his shirt off one arm, and then switching hands to keep you supported while you pull his shirt free in totality.
Almost immediately, your hands are on his bare torso. You sigh happily into his kiss, reaching around to trail your fingertips over his back. He grunts against your mouth, taking you somewhere with smooth steps.
When your hands trail down the front of his body, he pauses his movement to assist you in getting his pants off. Perching you on his small kitchen table, he fumbles for the button and zipper of his pants before kicking it off. Your hands keep roaming his torso eagerly, over his defined biceps and shoulders, and when it’s not enough, you lean in to place open mouthed kisses all over his collarbones.
He groans, turning his head to kiss at your cheek, one hand tilting your head so that he can pepper kisses along the side of your face.
You look down, finding his swollen cock gripped in his fist, his open pants hanging low on his hips. The tip of his cock is a dark pink, almost a purple in the low light, a bead of precum slowly presenting at his slit.
You know he's going to hate that he's wearing his pants later, so while he's distracted by kissing your cheek and stroking the remarkable length between his legs, you push his pants down lower, hoping that he'll understand and kick them off.
You don't get the chance to make sure they're fully off- he grips your jaw, turning your head up to his.
Such a beautifully sinister face, the promise of pleasure so close.
“Are you ready for me?” He asks, his voice a husky timbre.
Honestly, you didn't know, but with the amount of arousal you were feeling, the way your thighs and ass were messy with want, the knowledge that your body was at peak fertility, made your odds look pretty good.
Plus, you didn't think you had the sanity left in you to make sure. You wanted him badly, and you wanted him now.
You swallow, eyes demure as you nod your head.
He grips your jaw harder.
“Say. It.” He hisses.
“I want you in me.” You breathe softly.
You watch his eyes roll closed, lips parted, breathing shallow. A sharp nod, before he’s lining his cock up with your entrance by feel alone.
You bite down on your bottom lip really hard- clenching the moment you feel the head of his cock press against you.
“Easy,” Billy soothes, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down your back, “Relax for me.” He whispers, bringing his mouth to your ear.
You give a shy nod, taking a deep breath as he eases the tip of his cock into you.
A little broken sound leaves your throat, your head falling against his chest. Your centre flutters involuntarily, clenching around him, pulling another soft whimper from you.
“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He hums, pressing deeper.
When he hits an uncomfortable point, stretching your cunt wide, your breath hitches as you drag your nails across his arm, silently asking him to wait, please.
He does, hands gripping your hips, aching for some semblance of sanity as he feels you all around him.
When you’re feeling okay, you shift your hips closer, silently asking for more.
It’s a trial, taking him, despite how wet and aching you are, even though you’ve been dreaming of this for days, your thighs tremble as you breathe evenly in an attempt to accept his girth.
“Billy.” You mewl, nails clawing at his biceps, squeezing tight as he finally fits the last inch of himself deep inside you.
You can feel him so eternally deep, the tip of his cock snug against your cervix while your lungs heave air, unable to comprehend the pleasure of being so full.
Trembling, your eyelids flutter as he draws out, and then back in again, thankfully, slow enough for you to accommodate.
He takes an audibly sharp breath, before you feel him lift you off the counter.
Your mouth drops open in shock, hands wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself, and you feel his hands, their firm grip on your ass as he begins rocking you slowly on his cock.
There’s absolutely no way- he steals your thinking with a rough thrust- mouth dropping open as his cock rubs that delicious spot deep inside you.
He lets out a soft grunt that makes you clench, pleasure clouding your brain, removing each thought until you’re a puddle of want.
His pace is even, calm, he moves you as if you weigh almost nothing, lifting and dropping you on his own whim, his breathing is uneven, sometimes deep, and other times shallow, but you feel that has more to do with the grip of your cunt than the weight of you.
He clenches his jaw, eyes fluttering as he begins to make deeper strokes, you struggle to hold your body upright, leaning against him, your head on his shoulder while he uses you to please himself.
It’s more than good, better than anything before, he gives you just what you need and maybe a little more. You feel full, stretched, like this is what you’ve been craving for most of your life.
You sink your fingers into his shoulders, trying to fight the tears of ecstasy threatening to fall. His skin is warm, a little groan on each breath.
It flutters in your ribs, the tug of something intoxicating deep inside of you as he fucks you like this, as if he owns you and the very pleasure you experience. Your cunt clamps down around him, desperate, warning, that you were going to shatter around him very soon.
You say his name, head tipping back to allow more air into your system, as if that could help you manage the impending act of falling apart.
He makes a low sound, almost a growl, makes you shiver, your thoughts being scrubbed from your mind as his cock fills you repeatedly.
It's too much, and then there's a rush of pleasure inside you, starting from your center and working its way into your head. You sob, body rocking against his, locked tight on the brink of insanity.
A sharp cry spills from your mouth as your vision goes white, his hands tighten on the flesh of your ass, going still when you clench around his cock.
It feels like you're locked in that haze of pleasure for eternity, head tipped back, eyes closed, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you grip his cock like life depends on it.
Then comes the tremors, falling against him, your entire body quivers, waves and waves of sizzling euphoria, carving its way up your spine, pooling somewhere in the back of your head making all your limbs feel so sluggish.
He holds you through all of it, cock deep, kissing your deepest parts, breathing shallow, eyes dark, filled with want.
.
When you come on his cock, his thinking fragments.
All it takes is the flutter of your walls around him, the way you look while you take pleasure on his cock, the smell of your skin, your moans filling the air, he doesn't think he's ever been this far away from sanity.
His mate is beautiful.
Made just for him, and him for her.
The beast inside of him demands he claim ownership, raw instinct to bite into your skin and mark you, leave traces of his spit and his cum on you so that everyone will know that you’re his.
The taste of your cunt lingers on his tongue, he doesn’t remember that he’s a man in these few moments after he feels you come.
All he can think of now, is the magnificence of his soulmate, and the ways he’s going to ruin her, the ways he’s going to reshape her until she wants for only him.
He feels his teeth sharpen, feels you lean in to rest your head against his shoulder.
It would be so easy, his mouth is so close, he could tilt his head and sink his teeth into your skin and you would barely feel any pain because he’d be fucking you through it, making sure you come at least three more times before he releases your skin from between his teeth.
He leans in, rubs his lips to your shoulder, to the very spot he’d bite, feels you clench around him in response, almost as if you’re asking for the same thing.
He closes his eyes, feels the push of the panther in his head, almost goes along with it.
It’s the smell of your skin that stops him. He stands there, breathing you in.
Fresh strawberries, making his mouth water, so deliciously ripe for him, all for him.
Sweet and small in his arms- hurting you would tear him apart.
It gives him the willpower to raise his head, to suck in a deep breath and remember that the predator was not all that he was, that he could choose differently.
He would simply, choose you.
.
When your orgasm finally subsides, all you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, clinging to him, in hopes that he never releases you.
He moves, holding you so easily that you have no idea how it’s even possible.
When your body is placed gently onto his bed, you only get a few moments to settle before his cock is pressing into you with more fervour than before.
It knocks the air right out of you, his thrusts are deep and fast, chasing his own orgasm now that he’s given you yours.
You moan, feeling him fill you so roughly, so deeply that you know you never want him out, you squeeze the walls of your cunt around him, silently begging him to stay deep inside of you, to empty himself there, a primal voice in the back of your head telling you that this is what you were made for.
His grip is tight on your hips, his breathing is shallow and hitched, broken up with low grunts, that makes your brain rattle with want.
He’s like a coiled predator, moving his body against yours, holding you firm so that he can plunder the deepest parts of you as he so pleases.
He leans down to kiss you, but doesn’t linger in favour of fucking you harder, your head tilted back, moaning in bliss to high heaven.
It works you up to another orgasm so quickly that you can only whimper in warning, trying to tell the amazing man above you that he’s your undoing without ever uttering a word. Your fingers grip his arms, wherever you can reach, nails pressed to his skin because you feel like you’re floating and you need him to tether you.
Something clicks in your brain just then, as he’s inside of you, the shallow pump of his cock lighting up every uncharted part of your brain, flooding your body with euphoria, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.
It’s almost like self discovery, though, you’re not sure what you’ve found, all you know is that you’re open, and vulnerable beneath him, and through your watery vision- as the first hot tear spills from the corner of your eyes, and you catch sight of his parted lips and pinched eyebrows- you understand something you didn’t before.
That this is where you belong. With him, under him, taking him.
“Good.” He grunts above you, and you force your eyes to focus on his gorgeous face.
“You feel so good.” He says again, and you whine, cunt clenching as he keeps his thrusts short. You can feel how wet you are in the ease of his motions, your body accepting him, you can feel him with the most intimate parts of yourself.
After a moment, he goes deeper.
You let out a strangled sound, barely capable of breathing with the sheer size of him in the deepest parts of you, you reach to grip the sheets instead as you fear you might hurt him, your body shaking with the desire to fall apart around him.
His mouth parts on a harsh breath, and your eyes drop down to his pink mouth, something odd about the way his canines look, your brain too blissed out to focus.
His teeth are sharp, and there’s something about his eyes.
“Please.” You beg, aching for another orgasm, lost in the rhythm of his cock inside of you, his thrusts growing so forceful that you shift up the bed with each thrust, the headboard bumping the wall each time as well.
“I-” You try to say, looking into his eyes, a low whine slipping from your throat, trying to tell him, to convey to him that you’re on edge and close to orgasm.
He understands, like you knew he would. Billy leans into you, taking up all the space around you, one hand sinking into your hair, holding you in place, his other hand interlocking with yours.
“Mine.” He rumbles, right into your ear, your skin tingles at the low timbre of his voice, you feel his teeth, scrape over your neck and you gasp.
“Cum. Now.” He orders, and your entire body shudders almost instantly. You cunt flutters involuntarily around his cock, you hear him let out a low moan as your clenching around is cock gets more intense.
A broken sound leaves your mouth, and then the dam breaks.
You sob endlessly as pleasure overtakes your system, burning like wildfire in your veins, consuming everything and leaving only bliss in its wake. Your body thanks him, quietly, unable to do anything more than experience pleasure at the whim of his fingers and the steady motion of his cock. He holds you through all of it, an anchor that grounds you as you lose all thought.
His lips pepper kisses over your neck, it only makes the pleasure that much sweeter.
Above you, Billy growls loudly, you feel him make one final thrust, before he orgasms too, filling you with his cum, making you feel whole in a way you barely understand.
He stays inside of you for a while, cock twitching, you swear he fills you so much that it could almost spill out.
“I’m sorry.” Are the first words he whispers to you through shuddering breaths, his hands cupping your cheeks to encourage you to meet his eyes with your glassy ones.
“Are you hurt? Please tell me if I hurt you.”
You reach up to cup his cheek too, so happy to have him here with you, finally realising how much you really missed him.
Could he be yours? Really yours? Would he spend the rest of his days making you feel safe and loved and happy the way you were feeling right now?
Was that a real possibility for the two of you?
“I’m okay.” You finally gasp, thick emotion in your voice. You grip the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair to pull him down for a kiss.
Outside, thunder rumbles across the sky.
.
Your kisses are soft, meaningful, but it doesn’t take long for them to grow frantic again, and before you know it, his cock, having never gone soft, resumes fucking you once more.
Your body is ready for more, prioritising pleasure over whatever mild soreness you may feel. He fucks you to another orgasm before flipping you over onto your hands and knees.
He’s deeper now, your eyes roll back in your head as you rock your hips to meet his, a quiet slapping fills the room.
He reaches around, grips your throat to pull you up.
Your back pressed to his chest, his mouth tickles your ear.
“You can take it can’t you?” He asks, breathing laboured.
You mewl, nodding, his hips meet yours in another hard thrust.
“Isn’t this what you wanted, sweetheart? What you-” He kisses your cheek, “ -and that pretty little cunt has been begging for?”
“Uh-huh.” Is your only vocalisation.
“So sweet for me.” He says, almost to himself, before he makes you see stars.
.
Your hair splays around you as your body falls to the bed, his cock filling you with his cum yet another time.
He stays inside of you for long moments, not pulling out until he absolutely has to.
You feel his spend spill out of you, you try to keep it inside.
He’s covered in a sheen of sweat when he crashes next to you, breathing rapid just like yours is.
You look into his eyes, and you see the corner of his mouth tick up into a smile, both of you fully understanding that this would not be the last time you fuck tonight.
.
When he takes you against the window, your legs wobble. He solves the issue by picking you up once more.
One hand pressed to the glass, the other under your ass, you’re not even sure how it’s possible that you’re being fucked in this position, but honestly you don’t care as long as he keep filling you with his deliciously large cock.
.
It’s almost morning when you finally fall into a deep sleep, wrapped in his arms, his fingers trailing in slow circles around the small of your back.
You breathe contentment, a bliss you’d never even thought was achievable, sated in his arms and you know there’s nowhere on earth that could be better than this.
.
You groan when he slips your still tired body into the warm bath.
You barely peek an eye open, feeling him slide in behind you, you turn so that your front is pressed against his.
His hands are firm yet gentle, washing the dried sweat from your skin, pouring warm water onto your shoulder, carefully swiping his fingers through your hair.
“ Wha’ time is it?” You mumble sleepily, lips half pressed to his collarbone.
“After twelve, we slept for a while.” He murmurs softly, sleep still clinging to his voice.
“We fucked for a while too.” You sigh.
He chuckles.
.
You ride him in his sun room after breakfast.
Or maybe that was lunch, the details seem irrelevant.
He piles you high with toast and eggs, bacon that tastes almost as good as the sex had been, and when you’re full, you can’t help the way your hands wander over his skin.
It’s not on purpose at first, you just want to enjoy his presence, tracing your hands up his shoulders to play with the hairs near the nape of his neck.
But he closes his eyes, makes a soft groaning sound when you gently scratch his scalp.
And then of course, you have to kiss him.
One soft peck, and then another, you find yourself pressed against him, tongues dancing, the grip of his hands on your hips, pulling you closer and closer.
He seats you on his lap and you can feel his stiff erection through his thin boxers and all bets are off.
You place a kiss on his lips after, telling him you’ll be right back, taking the empty dishes down to the kitchen and using the bathroom before heading back.
You find him lying on his front, sleeping in a beam of sunlight.
He’s face down, the light of the sun revealing his true hair colour to be more of a dark brown that the black it usually looks like, his breathing is soft and even, and you curl your hands into fists to resist reaching out to touch his bare back.
You smile fondly, noticing he’s not where you left him, figuring he must have moved into the sunlight before falling asleep, very much like a-
Like papers reshuffling, you feel your thoughts build a conclusion you didn’t even know you were looking for.
Of course, it had been right in front of you all along, staring you right in the face and you hadn’t even realised.
You raise a hand, touching the pendant hanging around your neck.
The memory of the way his teeth looked last night- that you’d sworn was just a trick of the light, the unexplainable way he’d lifted you- effortlessly strong in a way that you’d never seen a man do.
The way the animal had come to you, bringing your most beloved possession back, after you’d cried in his arms about the very thing.
You let out a soft breath, leaning against the doorframe to come to terms with the undeniable truth, that Billy, was the panther protecting you.
.
.
.
A/N: I didn't initially intend to stop here, but the length of the chapter grew to unmanageable lengths, I'm very sorry about the unintentional cliffhanger.
Fun fact: ‘Mind how you go’ is a Terry Pratchett reference. Not only his last book, The Shepherd’s Crown, has this dedication to one of the characters, it’s the Pratchett family’s mantra for safety:
Her [Rhianna Pratchett’s] parents were living in Wiltshire, while she was based in London but they saw a lot of each other and spoke constantly. “I’m always telling them I love them on the phone in a slightly silly way. We always say to each other, ‘Mind how you go’; it’s almost like a Pratchett mantra for safety.”
with Rhianna, the daughter of Terry Pratchett, saying this as her last words to her father and her grandfather.
Did I get any advice on how to manage my hyperfixation that has taken over my life to the point that it has become a problem?
No.
Did he pull out his phone and Google "Good Omens" and say "Oh, Neat. There's a lot of famous people in this. Oh, Neil Gaiman! I'll have to watch this."
Warnings: Angst (god, I'm so sorry), discussions of stalking, mentions of nightmares, kissing, sex dreams, more angst, Billy's sad childhood.
In the early hours of Saturday morning, Dinah knocks on his front door.
He knows it's her, he can almost smell her impatience.
You haven’t woken up yet, and Billy really wants to let you sleep. You’d had another nightmare- he’d heard the moment you woken with a sharp gasp last night. He’d waited, waited patiently to see if you’d come to him, if you’d ask to crawl into bed beside him. He’d listened to your footsteps as you’d made a cup of jasmine tea.
He’d wanted to go to you, but he didn’t want to make it seem as if he was… monitoring you.
Lying on his side, he’d listened to you sigh, making sure you were okay, using his keen sense of hearing to listen to your racing heart.
He wasn’t too sure what to do. How did he reassure you that he wanted to be with you, that your entire relationship was built on something stronger than pity?
Perhaps, he could encourage you to seek out therapy, help you through your erroneous thoughts and make you see reason.
He shuddered at the reminder of therapists, and his failed relationship with a certain one in particular.
He’d listened to you have your tea and go back to bed, then he’d listened to you toss and turn and make little sounds of irritation that made the beast inside of him alert, tugging at him to go to you, to lie beside you, soothe you into sleep.
He thought about how you’d feel in his arms, the way he’d bury his nose in your hair and wrap his body around yours, a smile pulling onto his face the more he thought about it.
Then, he’d remembered what you’d said, that you might just take his actions as pity, and not the movements of a man utterly and hopelessly obsessed.
In a way, he sort of understood the insanity that being deprived of you could cause, shaking his head as he fell asleep, knowing exactly how unhinged his thoughts sounded.
Billy pulls open the door, wearing only the grey sweats he’d fallen asleep in, rubbing at one eye with the base of his palm.
“Madani.” He greets grumpily, the first peek of sunlight just starting to light up the street behind her.
She looks unbothered by his prickly greeting, in her red shirt and sensible work pants, a coat thrown over the ensemble to shelter her from the chill of the oncoming winter season. Billy steps to the side to let her in, the glint of her badge on her hip when she moves.
“You got coffee?” Dinah asks, eyes scanning the area, most likely looking for changes in his home. It had been years since she’d set foot in his place.
“Upstairs.” He answers, and she nods, pulling her gloves and coat off, hanging it on the little hanger near the door.
He leaves her in the kitchen for a moment so that he can grab a shirt, not wanting to be exposed to her for longer than necessary.
She’s sifting through his collection of coffees when he finds her again.
“So, how is she?” Dinah asks, not looking up. He watches her open a bag, take a small whiff and shakes her head. Billy studies her for a moment, gathering his thoughts, making sure to keep himself calm, stoic. He’d already had an idea of where this conversation was headed, and he didn’t want Dinah prying too much.
He clears his throat.
“She’s alright- yeah- shaken, which is understandable, but she’s a fighter.”
“I know, I saw her background. Hell of a girl.” Dinah says, raising her head with a light smile that suggested she knew something that he didn’t.
“What are you implying?”
Dinah makes a sound of amusement, selecting another bag of coffee, this one, harvested from the mountains of Peru.
“I read her file, Billy. Her statements, her firsthand account of that night. I saw the autopsy report for those two muggers. I know.”
He keeps his emotions in check, wrapped tightly with a rubber band and shoved deep down inside of him. His head is full of static, denial in his veins.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He says measuredly.
Dinah has the audacity to laugh, full blown, head tossed back, he’d roll his eyes if he was a little bit more comfortable with the direction of the conversation.
“I forgot how easy it is for you to lie to yourself. Don’t worry, Russo I won’t tell a soul.”
“There’s nothing to tell, Dinah.” He says, inching closer to her, desperate to make the were-cheetah understand his words. “There is nothing to read into, nothing to know. She means nothing to me.”
Dinah’s eyes slide from his face to something behind him, he turns his head, stomach twisting as he spots you, having just come upon the conversation.
God fucking dammit, Billy swears internally.
.
“Good morning Agent Madani.” You greet evenly, pretending that you didn’t hear what you definitely just heard, “Is everything going well with the investigation?”
She says your name in greeting.
“Are you doing alright?” She asks, grabbing a bag of coffee from Billy’s selection.
“Peachy.” You respond sarcastically, with a smile, entering the kitchen, unable to look him in the eye at all.
You watch her set up his coffee machine, as you slide onto one of the stools at his kitchen counter, unlocking your phone to look through your notifications.
The place is silent, save for the hum of the coffee machine, you can feel Billy’s eyes on you, but you refuse to acknowledge him in any way, shape or form.
I’ll show you nothing.
“So,” You say, clearing your throat, “any news?”
Dinah turns, looking at you both, before stepping over to an unmarked cupboard, opening it to grab a mug.
You blink, tilting your head in acknowledgement that she so easily knew where to find things. Maybe they were in a relationship before.
“We have a… working theory that maybe you’re not the target.”
You raise your eyebrows in surprise, waiting for her elaboration.
“When we assembled the timeline of events, and analysed the photos properly, we noticed that Billy hadn’t been around at any point that the stalker was there. Every time something happened, he was nowhere around.”
“Are you implying that he’s the stalker?” You say dryly in disbelief, looking down, not wanting to meet his eyes.
“No, more that the intended target of this harassment isn’t you… but rather… Billy.”
At that, you finally look up.
“How does that make any sense?” You prod at Dinah.
“Thing is, Billy is a security expert, catching him off guard would be really difficult. But, threatening a close friend of his, forcing him to watch your fear… we think that was the goal the entire time.”
You blink, looking down.
This wasn’t about you at all?
“That’s why taking several photos of you being mugged was so important,” Dinah continues, “Your fear, they’re using it against him.”
“Which reminds me,” She mutters, turning to Billy, “Can you send me a list of any enemies you have? We’ll start big and work our way down.
“You kidding?” Billy asks, raising a hand to wipe at his brow, “That list would be ten pages long. I’m not in security to make friends.”
“We have to start somewhere.” You hear her mutter to him.
“So… this is good right?” You say interrupting their little conversation, with freshly sprouting thoughts, “This means that I'm- I'm not being obsessed over, yeah? So I'm not in as much danger as I thought? No one is learning everything about me because they like me?”
There's a stagnant silence between the both of them that makes you think that you weren’t very correct in your assumptions.
“Not exactly.” Billy says, glancing at Dinah who looks back at him and makes you think to yourself that they really made a cute couple. The thought makes you press your teeth together angrily.
For a moment, it feels like someone's taken a hammer to your chest again, more and more you realise that maybe Billy had never really desired you.
“If this person isn't actively interested in pursuing you, and just trying to hurt Billy, then they have nothing to really gain from keeping you alive in the long term.” Dinah explains.
It just makes your heart sink more.
“Well it makes sense that my death would be worth much more than my life.” You grumble, crossing your arms.
In your peripherals, Billy turns away, when your eyes follow his movement, you catch him shaking his head.
Great, now you’d disappointed him.
“What if I left the city? Got as far away as I could and never came back?”
You watch his shoulders stiffen.
“You’d probably be safe but there’s a chance the person doing this could go after your friends to make a point, or maybe they follow you, we’re not entirely sure about anything, all we have right now is just a working theory.” Dinah answers.
“Oh.” You mumble, “So you could be wrong, and I could still be the main target.”
She’s silent for a while.
“We’re still exploring every option, but based on analysis, Billy does seem like the real target.”
Great.
You turn away with a nod of your head, trying to figure out how to excuse yourself from the conversation and retreat into hiding.
“Wait a minute,” You say, turning back, “Why me? I’m sure there are a lot of people they could target that mean more to him than me.”
His head drops, and Dinah glances at him with a wry smile on her face.
“I think you might be his only friend that isn’t ex-military.”
Are we even friends? You want to jab.
“Actually, the harassment might have even been orchestrated to get you both closer together, knowing that Billy might have taken you in if he knew you were being stalked.”
You think you were going to be sick.
The idea that you were just being used as a pawn in someone else’s game this entire time, like a mouse in a maze, with doors shutting all around you, forcing you to go in one direction, made you want to sink into the nearest abyss and never be seen again.
You wanted to claw at the walls, you wanted to scream.
You take a deep breath, holding it, closing your eyes and pressing your face into your hands. You let it hurt, you let your lungs beg for air, you feel your body begin to sag under the weight of itself. When you can’t keep it in anymore, you let the breath out in a rush, feeling your mind calm down, too busy focusing on the mild oxygen deprivation to keep panicking.
“Alright well, it was a pleasure seeing you, Agent Madani, I look forward to speaking with you again.” You say diplomatically, sliding off the stool and stepping purposefully back to your room. You don’t stop until you’ve collapsed onto your bed face down, your face buried into a pillow, hoping that you could close your eyes and have all of this go away.
.
A while later, there’s a soft knock on your door.
You raise your head, sitting up and facing the door.
“Yeah?” You answer.
The doorknob turns, and you feel your throat tighten as you meet his eyes.
“Are you alright?”
“Great.” Is your clipped answer, “Things have never been better.”
He says your name on a sigh, opening your door wider to step into your room.
You look away, down at the spot on the floor where the glass of water had been smashed to pieces a few nights ago. You wonder if you would still find any remnants of splinters there.
“You and Dinah look nice together.” You comment softly.
“I suppose we might have,” He accedes, coming to sit beside you on your bed, “A long time ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.”
You give him a tight-lipped smile.
“She's really pretty, I almost want to congratulate you on being with her.”
“She's alright.”
You make a sound of disbelief, raising your eyebrows in surprise.
He tilts his head in curiosity.
“What?”
“Well if you think she's alright, it's no wonder that I mean nothing to you.”
The silence is stiff, like the air is made of honey, trapping you both in place.
“I'm sorry you had to hear that, but it wasn't true.”
You shake your head.
“Look- It's alright- you don't have to say anything to make me feel better I get it-” You stand, fighting the thick feeling of the air around you both, “-I'm probably not pretty compared to all the other women you've dated, and maybe you've just realized that-”
Your voice cuts off when he stands too, your body freezing up once more as you catch the stern expression on his face.
He's like a predator, the way he moves forward, corralling you until you're pressed against the bedroom wall.
You try to appear calm, though you can feel each time blood pulses into your brain.
His eyes are so dark, you can barely see his pupil, you have to tilt your head up to keep eye contact the closer he gets.
He gets close enough that you can feel the soft brush of his breath on your cheek, his arms pressed to either side of you to cage you in.
“Dinah and I were only together for a few months. I wouldn’t open up to her, and she wouldn’t open up to me. She once told me that I was incapable of making a real connection with someone, and maybe I carried that into my next relationship, but you… are the first real connection I’ve made in a really long time.”
You blink, your insides responding positively to his words.
“I said those things to her because what you really mean to me, is absolutely none of her business.”
“And what do I mean to you?” You ask softly, a depth of challenge in your voice, a silent plea to mean more to him than you think you do.
The corners of his mouth just barely tilt upwards, one of his hands move to cup your cheek.
“So much more than you know. It hurts me to hear you talk down on yourself, it pains to hear you suggest leaving.”
He leans in further, his face beside yours so that he can whisper in your ear.
“I want you, more than I can even understand and I've been thinking about you from the moment we first met.”
You gulp, raising a hand to touch his shoulder, smoothing down the length of his arm.
He takes your wrist in his hand, pressing it against the wall beside your head.
You gasp, turning to look at him in surprise at the meaningful way he moved.
His nose brushes yours, and you can't help tilting your face up in hopes that he kisses you.
“It's not easy to find words for,” he thinks for a moment before smiling, “If I liked you less, maybe I would talk about it more.”
“That's Jane Austen.” You whisper.
The corner of his lip twitches.
“Yeah, maybe she's on to something.”
You feel his thumb swipe gently over the fluttering pulse at your wrist.
His head moves, his nose trailing a path over your cheek, to your ear. You stay perfectly still, heart hammering, but unwilling to break him from whatever thoughts he seemed to be in.
He drops his head till his face is pressed to the base of your neck, you feel and hear him take a deep breath.
“You smell good.” His voice is a low grovel.
“Thank you.” You whisper in response, feeling him take another slow breath, your body growing aroused at your positions.
He lets out a soft hum of appreciation, you stand there a little surprised at his actions. Was he just breathing you in?
His lips brush your neck and you feel a jolt of heat spear into your stomach.
Your skin tingles, all you can feel besides his mouth on your skin and his breathing in your hair is your body begging him for more.
You wanted him to touch you, to trail his hands over your skin. You ached to just be felt, and not even in a sexual way. You wanted him to learn you, explore the feel of you so you would know what that felt like.
Do people even do that? Do they explore each other simply for the pleasure of it? You're not sure, but more and more you want to know everything about him.
You feel his grip tighten on your wrist, feeling him lean more against you as if he can't bear the thought of being apart. He stiffens, raising his head from its place, buried in your neck. His eyes are…
strange, there's something a little odd about them, but you don’t get the chance to investigate further.
“Excuse me.” He grunts out before he's drawing away, and stepping out of your room with meaningful steps.
This time, your stomach fills with warmth and affection to watch him go. Almost intuitively knowing that his departure is based on a heavy desire for you, one that he was worried about losing control over, and not dislike, as you might have previously thought.
He really likes me, is what you think to yourself as the door closes.
.
You swear you're not trying to torment him on purpose, but it's funny how things work out like that.
You tap your pen against your lips, raising your eyebrows curiously when you glance over at him and find him already looking at you.
He looks so calm, except you know him a little bit better now, you watch his eyes drift to your lips, the same dark red you'd worn before.
Somewhere at the front of the room, there's a presentation happening, some routine safety briefings being spoken about.
You smile, looking down, and when you glance back at him, he's still got his eyes on you.
You could feel it in your bones, in that spot behind your navel- it was only a matter of time before you gave in to the tension between you.
The image of it just pops into your head with no warning, the way he might tug at your clothes frantically, breathless kisses, low groans as he gets you naked. His firm press of your body against his desk, or the first flat surface. The reminder of the way his hands feel on your skin, his mouth- you blink, swallowing, looking down at the pen in your hands as you let the memories of him overwhelm you.
You wanted him in so many ways, over and over, you almost felt insane with need. All you could feel is the ache inside of you, a space craving to be filled.
Your body responds eagerly to your thoughts, you swallow, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as arousal dampens your underwear.
You try to avoid looking at him as you let the debauched thoughts consume you. The imagery of him naked, all those delicious scars on display for your mouth to explore, the way you wanted to taste the path from his cock up to the base of his navel. You press your thighs together, aching for his touch.
He'd probably touch you too, if you asked nicely enough. Maybe he would give you just what you needed.
You fight the groan of desire that builds in your chest, blinking and looking up to reorient your mind in the room. The HR rep is on his closing speech and you're thankful that this is almost over. Your eyes drift to where Billy is sitting, and your breath halts suddenly when you find his eyes on you.
You feel warmth flush in your face, his eyes are heated, the expression on his face is calm but- but the look in his eye promises pleasure beyond comprehension.
It’s like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and for a moment you wonder if he can hear your thoughts.
The sound of a binder closing breaks you from your daze. You blink, breathing in a slow breath, looking around. You meet some of your coworker’s eyes, smiling at them, hoping that they hadn’t witnessed you and Billy basically eye-fucking each other into next week.
You spare a glance at him, wondering if you should take the time to say something, or just leave. You’re unsure of how to navigate here, knowing that no one else knows how close you really are to each other.
You decide against causing any drama- or give anyone a reason to chat about you. You suck in a slow breath, gathering your items before rising to a stand, to walk out of the conference room.
You feel his eyes on your back all the way out.
You keep your breathing even as you walk, there’s a pounding in your ears, the thump of your footsteps on the ground.
When there’s a sudden grip on your arm, you gasp, head swivelling in shock and mild fear to see Billy right beside you.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He hums, pressing you somewhere. Your legs move where he guides, trying to stay upright with his firm steer on your body.
It doesn’t really register that he’s pushed you into a dark supply closet until you hear the door locked behind him.
“Is- everything okay?” You stutter out, heart hammering in anticipation.
“No it’s not.” He grunts out, taking the little items from your hands and placing them onto the shelf above your head in a meaningful motion.
You open your mouth to ask him what he was doing but you don’t get the chance. His fingers grip the back of your head, pulling your body against his, Your hands reaching up to steady yourself on his shoulders.
His forehead pressed to yours, you feel his breath on your lips as he exhales.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice almost hoarse, “please say yes.”
You’re shocked at the desperate way he sounds, as if there’s no sanity left in him.
“Please please please, let me kiss you.”
Fuck. Did you really have him this way?
“Yes.” You rush out, before lifting your chin to seal your mouth to his.
Absolute sparks, tingles where your lips meet his. You share a groan, before drawing back so that you can kiss him again. His other hand raises, both gripping your neck with such tender attention that you get lost in it so quickly.
It's not enough, none of it is, you rise onto the tips of your toes, a smile on your lips as you press your body to his. A shared breath between you, remarkably slow for two desperate people.
His mouth leaves your lips, a kiss to your cheek, another right below your ear.
“I'd get down on my knees right now if you asked. Workplace etiquette be damned. Just say the word and my tongue is yours.”
You groan.
Holy fuck was he real? You tilt your head back as his mouth peppers kisses over the column of your neck, you're not sure who moves, if it's you looking for purchase, or him guiding you, but your back presses to the door, nowhere to go.
Your hand dips into his hair, pulling him close, he hums, one firm hand drifting down your body to grip your hip.
You're about to give in, tell him that you need him so badly that you can't wrap your head around it. However, at the same time, you stiffen when you hear several footfalls outside, and laughter as clear as if there was no door between you.
If you could hear that, then it's no question whether you'd be heard, maybe discovered before anything really good happened.
Billy pauses, raising his head having felt you go stiff in his arms, you study his dark eyes for a few moments, longing to live within the few seconds you'd gotten with him.
“We shouldn't.” You whisper, hands smoothing over his broad shoulders.
He nods, accepting, a hand raising to push an errant strand of hair out of your eyes.
“You're… really beautiful.” He responds next, and it feels like a cord’s been looped around your intestines, tangled in your heart, tugging gently in any direction it can.
You can only give him a shy smile, before looking away.
“And you,” you reply, lifting your head to return a compliment, eyes catching on his mouth and you notice something is off. You smile, raising a hand to the corner of his bottom lip, “-have lipstick on your mouth.”
He grins, teeth on display for you as you work carefully to rid him of any lipstick remnants.
“I'd wear it with pride if I could.” He confesses, studying you intently.
All you can do is smile in response, feeling so light in his presence.
.
He's lying in the forest, thinking about your cunt.
He feels at peace here, body lying in the dirt with the trees all around him, the sound of rushing water somewhere in the distance and he sighs, thinking about your wet little cunt.
It's like you hear him, your slow footsteps approaching, the crunch of grass beneath your bare feet.
Another dream, he realises, when he lifts his head to look up at you and he finds you naked, realising that he's naked as well.
He watches you approach, and when you're beside him, he extends a hand to help you remain balanced as you seat your body on his, that delicate cunt of yours pressed to his adonis belt.
Your fingers trace his skin, he can feel his cock swelling at the sensation.
Your hand drifts up, cupping his face your thumb pressing against his lips.
He feels like yours, wholly, lying in his most peaceful spot, ready to give himself over to any whim, any desire, parting his lips so that you can press your thumb into his mouth.
He feels a connection building in the back of his head, swears he can almost feel you there, and he wishes with every fiber of his being that it could be possible.
He reaches to grip your hips firmly, no words need to be said as he guides your body upwards, your thumb slipping from his mouth as he settles your thighs around his face.
He takes a deep breath, basks in the scent of your desire, of a cunt just as desperate for him as he is.
His eyes roll back in his head as his tongue darts out to taste you. A sweet sigh from your mouth that only encourages him. He starts slow, he wants to savour this, he wants to wring every drop of pleasure from your flushed body.
You whine his name. He grips your hips to press your cunt more firmly to his tongue.
So good, so good, is the only thing his brain can formulate, licking your clit repeatedly, getting high on your moans and the tart taste of your cunt.
He feels you rock your hips against his face. He simmers with the delight, loves his precious mate using him for her pleasure, taking what she needs.
He is yours, after all.
Hands tighten in his hair, you must have gripped it at some point, your grinding growing sharper, desperate. He keeps his tongue out for you to rub against.
Gripping your ass tightly in anticipation, knowing you're right on that edge and he'd do anything, anything to taste your orgasm.
He's alone when he wakes up. Upset and unhinged, he angrily climbs out of bed and is out of his bedroom in seconds.
He wants you, he wants to barge into your room and drop to his knees so he can bury his face between your thighs.
He needs this- he needs- he feels his body shudder at the desire that spreads through him. The panther awakens fully, growling in his head, reminding him of every detail of his dream.
The smell of strawberries fills his nose as he gets your door open quietly.
There you are, asleep in your bed, he tilts his head at the peaceful way you look.
It's what makes him pause, blink in realisation of what he was about to do. He backs away in shock, the predator surging forward angrily, urging him to go to you.
He takes another step back at the way he feels himself losing control. Something was wrong with him.
He blinks, sudden awareness of what day it was, or rather, what phase of the moon was almost above head.
Billy backs away from your door, cock swollen and aching, needing a cold shower more than anything.
.
The full moon was close.
He'd verified it after an icy shower, the panther demanding he give in to his base urges, clawing at him to feed, to fight, and most importantly, to fuck.
He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head, he couldn't give into it now, who knows how rough he might be, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to go softer if you asked, and that was the most sobering thought of them all. The first time he'd been with you, he'd bruised your wrist, and that hadn't even been near a full moon.
It was safer to wait this out, keep you at arm's length until he had his full sanity back.
But of course, the universe is seldom kind, especially to him, and he watches as you step into his line of sight from his spot in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a towel.
He watches you evenly, fingers tightening on the mug of coffee in his hand, his sensitive hearing warns that the cup might shatter if he squeezes any tighter.
“Going for a swim. You can come if you like?”
He keeps his expression calm, tries not to think of how you look naked, fights the panther for the braincells necessary to respond.
“You go ahead, sweetheart, I've got some work emails to glance at really quickly.”
You smile at him, and he feels like the air has thickened, slowing time in his head so that he can look at you for a few moments more.
“Okay.” You say happily, turning to make your way down his staircase, the smell of your skin lingering in the air.
The panther isn't kind to him this time, pushing images of you, lying in your front below him, face pressed into the bed while he fucks into you from behind.
Billy stifles a groan, thinking about the sweet sounds you make, about how tight your delicious cunt is.
He was in so much trouble.
.
He's a little distant, you notice.
Not unbelievably so, but it's definitely there.
He can't seem to spend time in a room with you, always finding an excuse to leave, or maybe work really had gotten stressful for him.
He was a CEO after all, maybe he was just busy.
You sit in his sunroom, looking out with a sigh, you'd been feeling antsy lately, stuck between his house and your work and the occasional visit to Amy’s. Other than that, you'd felt really stagnant.
For a moment, you find yourself wishing you were in the woods camping again. Exploring with your friends, photographing any amazing thing you'd find. You frown when you remember the way your lungs felt while running away.
Maybe you could do something for him that would help you take your mind off of feeling this way. It couldn't hurt to show him how appreciative you were of his protection and it would hopefully help him feel better too.
To lift your phone to your face, smiling as you begin planning.
.
He's been sitting in his office, listening to your heartbeat for the last two hours.
As a precaution, he'd shoved his desk against the door, to slow the panther down if he somehow managed to take control of him.
His nails are embedded in his palm, the pain keeping him locked into his body and all he can hear is the thumpthumpthumpthump of your heart.
His office is the one place your scent is weakest, he can't even go into his own bed without scenting you in the sheets. You're everywhere, like his home is yours and though on a normal day he'd relish the thought, today it's torture.
Would things be different if you were actually together? Maybe. He wouldn't have been so frustrated in the first place.
Billy tilts head back, sucks in a deep breath. He can't see this desire for you fading. He worries that he'll always be this unhinged around you on a full moon.
He squeezes his eyes shut, giving the panther the right moment to push more thoughts into his head.
He'd stalk you through your home, enjoying the scent of your arousal in the air. He'd tear your clothes to shreds, bury his face between your soft thighs and listen to you cry with need.
He'd hover above you, ask you for permission, make you beg to be fucked as hard as he wants to fuck you.
The sounds you'd make, as his hips met yours furiously, he'd feel you clench around him, he'd lick the sweat off your skin.
Your eyes, full of tears as he gives and gives, ridding you of any doubt of who you belonged to.
He doesn't realize where he is until his nose is pressed to the column of your neck.
You make a small sound of surprise, turning to look up at him, he's somehow found himself in the kitchen, an arm wrapped around you as he stands behind.
You smile up at him, unaware that his control is crumbling, you tilt your head up, a silent ask for a kiss.
The panther purrs in his head when your lips meet, he feels you sigh into the kiss, your body relaxing.
His hand grips your jaw when he tries to move away, keeping your head tilted up for him, so that he can kiss you for just a little longer.
“Sorry.” He says- can't believe that's the sound of his voice, “Got a little carried away.”
You turn in his arms, smiling up at him.
“That's okay.” You hum, your hands wrapping around his shoulders as best as possible.
The smell of raw meat catches his attention.
“What are you making?” He asks
“Steak for you, chicken for me. Just something to say thank you for all your help.”
The panther purrs louder in his head.
“You're- cooking for me?”
“Mhmm, we can't go out much, so I could use a distraction, and you've been so caught up working. I just thought I'd make you something.”
“Thank you.” He hums, still in disbelief.
He's not sure why he's surprised, you've cooked many meals together, but usually he's there to help. The idea that you'd feel comfortable enough to use his kitchen without him, only reinforces how comfortable you are in his space.
You smile, turning back to what you were doing, and before he can make a second thought, the panther shoves the image of his cum dripping from your cunt into his mind.
He backs away, retreating into his office quickly before you even notice that he's gone.
.
Something’s so weird about him right now.
For the first time you can see anxiety written into his movements, unsure and hesitant when he reaches for his glass of water.
You’d worked hard, maybe turned the steak just a little bit past rare. Placed beside some creamy asparagus and some crispy fries that were amazingly delicious and it was safe to say you were proud of the final product.
You’d taken the food up to the sunroof, lit candles all around the table and the space heater running, hoping to warm up the space with winter almost upon the city.
You’d knocked shyly on his office door, letting him know to come up, and you’d grabbed some drinks on the way back.
He’d given you such a happy smile, one that had looked so gorgeous on his face, made you want to kiss him right then and there.
It had made it worth it, and then his further delight at tasting the food made your insides flutter all over again.
He stops looking so unsure of himself the minute he starts eating, you can tell he’s focused on the meal for the time being, and you get to relax and enjoy each other’s company.
“So, you told me you liked cats- are they your favourite?” You ask, giving him a smile as he looks up.
It’s light, you know that, you don’t want to pry into any deep personal questions right now, you just want to hear the sound of his voice as he sits across from you.
“I think so. I can’t think of another animal I like more.”
“Interesting.” You say, leaning forward to grab your glass of wine, “I don’t know a lot of men that like cats.”
He nods in understanding.
“It’s the consent. It’s hard for some people to wrap their heads around the idea that animals need their boundaries respected too.”
“You’re not a real person.”
It’s such an absurd thing to say that it makes him laugh, which in turn puts a smile on your face.
“Did you have any pets growing up?” You ask.
Your heart sinks when he stops smiling almost instantly.
You can see the memory of it cross his face, the heartbreak of it all. You can tell whatever it was is ingrained into his psyche so deep that it’ll never leave him.
He swallows, looking down.
What do you say? Tell me more? It’s okay if you don’t want to? What would be the right words?
You stand, his eyes flit up to observe you as you thump across to his side of the table, before dropping into the space beside him and pulling him into a fierce hug.
He takes a deep breath of surprise, one hand moving cautiously around you, before he goes all in, pulling you into him, pressing his face into your neck.
“It can’t hurt you now. I promise.” You mutter against him, and his hold tightens in response.
“Her name was Della. She was a- a little kitten searching the dumpsters for scraps just like I was. Her fur was soft, so soft that I can never forget the feeling of it.”
Tears spring to your eyes, being soaked up by his shirt almost as fast as they come.
“The group home didn’t allow pets, I snuck her in anyway. I’d feed her before I would eat. Every potential foster that came by, I’d ask them how they felt about cats. If they were against them, I’d act out. Until I finally found a family that would take me and her.”
He’s quiet, shaking his head.
“When they found out they were expecting, they put me right back in the group home, but they kept her. After a few months, they moved away, and I never saw Della again.”
“It was probably for the best. I could barely take care of me, I would never be able to help her if she got sick but…”
“But you loved her.” You finish for him.
“I did. I do. I don’t say that much, but she was everything to me when I had absolutely nothing.”
You bury a hand in his hair, holding onto him tightly, wanting him to feel some semblance of the adoration he’d had back then.
Even more, you want to take that pain away from him, you wished you could soak it up, all of his hurt and his endless supply of trauma and replace it with something good.
After a long while of you holding each other, you finally find the willpower to pull away. There’s an understanding between you now, a line that’s been crossed.
You smile up at him, and you turn, reaching across the table to grab your plate of food, settling against him as you continue your meal.
“You’re a good man, Billy.” You say after a while, deep in contemplation.
“Maybe the best man I’ve ever met.”
You can almost feel his fond smile.
.
You finish dinner peacefully, using small talk to avoid deep conversations. You spend the evening enjoying his presence, laughing with him, leaning against him.
Kissing him.
You can tell there’s something there, beneath his cool exterior, something that urges him to press his mouth to yours harsher than he usually does, his fingers so easily gripping the back of your neck, demanding your submission.
He manages to keep himself in check though, despite the fire in his eyes, he doesn’t do more than kiss you.
Yet, you find yourself yearning for it more and more.
You bump his shoulder as you wipe a dish dry, staring at the distorted kitchen sink through the wine glass.
He makes a sound of amusement, gently bumping you in return.
“I’ve been thinking…” You start, and struggle to find the right words to finish your sentence.
He passes you another dish when you find the right spot for the wine glass.
You hesitate for too long, deep in your own thoughts, fear and the worry of rejection holding your mouth hostage.
He bumps against you playfully, and you almost drop the dish, cupping it securely after a moment.
A quick laugh of surprise and you glance at him to see that playful look on his face.
“What is it?” He asks, reminding you of what you had just been about to say.
“Oh god, nevermind.” You groan, feeling embarrassed.
“Tell me.” He pries in a light tone of voice.
You shake your head.
“I was only going to say- that I think I might be ready? Well, I know I am, I just said ‘think’ because I didn't wanna come on too strong but uh I've never really had to say this out loud so forgive my awkwardness about it and I just wanted you to know- I mean- we don't have to do anything now and maybe you might not even want to but I just wanted you to know with no doubts in case it gets lost somewhere-”
The sound of your name on his lips interrupts your mindless rambles, and you give him an apologetic look. He takes the very dry dish from your hand and puts it in its proper place calmly before turning back to you.
His hands on your cheeks, cold and raisined from having his hands in the water, but you smile up at him softly.
He studies you, eyes tracing across your face like you're a book he wants so badly to read.
“What do you mean by ready?” He asks.
“For… us.” You confirm hoping you get your point across.
“Us?”
“You and me.”
“Us.”
“Yeah.”
He stands still, studying you, as you can feel your beating heart, squeezing in your chest, pounding in anticipation of what he's going to say.
“I- would really like to be an ‘us.’”
It makes your heart beat that much faster.
He closes his eyes, a look of regret briefly crossing his face that makes your stomach twist.
He presses his forehead to yours, and you're forced to look down or get a headache from trying to focus on him.
“I can't stay. I have to go.”
You blink in surprise, drawing back so that you can look him in the eye for an explanation.
“For work,” he elaborates, “we were having such a good time I didn't want to mess it up before I really had to.”
You feel sadness overcome you.
You take a deep breath in, slowly let it out.
“Oh.” It's the most you can voice.
He has to leave for work, in the middle of you asking to be with him?
“I'm sorry, please believe me when I say I'm not running, I want to stay. I want to be with you. I won't be gone long, just three nights. I'll ask Dinah to increase patrol outside, and you can go anywhere you want in my house, treat it like it's yours.”
Agony twists inside of you at the idea of being away from him, paired with the shock of having this dropped on you so quickly.
Your head spins, you're not sure what to say, all you know is that you'll regret it if you let him leave on an upset note.
You reach out to take his hand, smiling up at his beautiful face.
“I get it. You manage a lot of people's safety, not just mine. I'll be fine, and we can talk about it later.”
He lets out a shaky breath.
You reach for each other at the same time, his hand on your cheek, yours to his.
The kiss is soft and earnest, open and vulnerable, a parting gift between you.
“I'll see you in three days, yeah?” You whisper lightly, trying to squash the undeniable despair threatening to choke you.
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From the Neil Gaiman: Dream Dangerously :) (you can watch it here in US or with US vpn :) <;3) (or just this bit on youtube here :))
Terry Pratchett: One day he rang me up and said, "I've started a book and, I think it's good, but I haven't the faintest idea where it goes." So, I said, "All right, well, send me the pages." And I read it and wrote him back and said, "I don't know where it goes either, but I do know what happens next."
Neil Gaiman: I was pretty much nocturnal then, so I would write my chunk of Good Omens before I went to bed, and I'd go to sleep about five o'clock in the morning and I'd get up about one o'clock in the afternoon and my answering machine would be flashing on, and I'd press the button and a voice would say, "Get up, get up you lazy bastard, I've just written a good bit."
Terry Pratchett: We did it as a kind of holiday, because if it crashed and burned, nobody would notice.
David: One of Job's sons is played by a very promising young actor called Ty Tennant. He's got a great future ahead of him, I hope, because I'm hoping he'll pay for my old folks home when I retire. This is my father-in-law, Peter.
Peter: Hello.
David: And this is my son, Ty. And Peter is playing Ty's father in this particular scene.
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