[Head Empty]

At first, Victor isn't all that fond of the complete, over the top sweet exterior the new hire exhibits. Yes, it's amusing to see some patients genuinely believe such deceit but Victor, and a lot of the members of staff who have been at Rhodes Hill for many years, can see right through it.

However, that does not leave him any less curious as to what you were hiding underneath all that sickly sweet demeanour. He gets his answer not more than two weeks after the initial thought. A patient under your care had passed away in the middle of the night, but Victor knew their vitals were doing just fine when they were last monitored a few days ago.

He took to the security cameras for answers. He suspected you had something to do with it. Your disdain for the patient was no secret, everyone held the same view as you. He would thrash and scream a the mere sign of someone in the same room as him. too many times had he injured anyone who tried to take his blood, give him medicine. Scratched, bitten, beaten. He'd done it all. Victor had noticed you holding your arm as you left for the evening, perhaps you had grown tired of it.

By the looks of it, you had indeed. The patient had grabbed your arm and dug his nails into your skin through the fabric of your shirt, easily drawing blood. You retaliated by punching him in the side of his head, watching with a blank expression as he let you go and thrashed in his bed. Victor's brow raised. You snatched a pillow from the empty bed beside him and immediately pressed it against his face, leaning your entire weight onto it.

He kicked and screamed underneath the thick pillow. He tried to claw at you but he couldn't see you. It was a long few minutes but eventually his body went still. You didn't let up the pressure. You stayed completely still, face cold and unreadable, until another two minutes had passed before you finally removed the pillow from the patient's face. Victor watched you check his pulse and a twisted grin spread across your face. You left the room. Victor was left in disbelief.

He laughed to himself. You would receive no disciplinary action and the tapes would conveniently be missing the section at the patient's time of death, not that anyone but himself would check. It was an unfortunate accident, as far as the care centre was concerned, or that even cared to investigate further.

As for if the two of you developed a relationship, Victor would eat up your sweet charm and watch you fondly, knowing that underneath it all was something far more dark and twisted. The confidence you oozed reminded him of himself and he played into it and tricked anyone and everyone into thinking you were the loveliest member of staff. It worked and everyone did like you, if they didn't, they would be forced to say they did.

If patients or staff needed to be disposed of, if they needed to go to processing, he would leave that to you. Think of it is as your secondary job. Reassuring staff who had learned more than they should have that they were okay, that you would make sure such awful things would be reported. Victor would watch you on the cameras as you lead them to your office and smile the entire way through as you personally put an end to them.

He would reward you heavily in whatever way you wished. He wouldn't mind, he's simply excited that someone else is as wild and uncaring for human life as it is, as he is.

In turn, he's the only one you could let your facade down around. You could talk about all the ways you made someone scream, how you adore his changes from his parasite, any ideas you had for his experiments and he would listen along with rapt attention.

He’s on you in two strides, his knee sinking into the mattress as he leans over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, pushing it open.

“Do you know what you do to me, wearing this?” he murmurs, eyes dark and intense as they roam your face. “All those months of restraint… patience… composure…”

You blink up at him, your lips parting. “What about them?”

He leans down, mouth brushing your ear, voice dangerously low.

“They’re gone.”

He grabs the edges of the robe, pulls it open, exposing you completely beneath him—bare, soft, waiting.

You gasp as the cool air hits your skin, nipples pebbling, your thighs falling open.

Obi-Wan groans, his gaze roaming over you—taking you in, devouring you.

“Look at you,” he breathes, thumb brushing over your nipple, the pad of it just rough enough to make you shiver. “Wearing nothing but my robe. Were you waiting for me to find you like this?”

You nod, breath hitching.

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

You shudder beneath him, arching up, pressing your hips against the hard, insistent bulge beneath his tunic.

“Anything you want,” you whisper. “Take me, Master.”

His eyes darken, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“Oh, I will.”

He yanks the robe completely open, the fabric pooling beneath you, and grabs your thighs, spreading them wide.

“You’re already so wet,” he murmurs, fingers sliding through your folds, feeling how soaked you are, how ready you are for him.

“All this… just from wearing my robe?”

You nod, face flushed, hips lifting to chase his touch.

"Obi-" his name a plea on your lips.

He chuckles—a dark, filthy sound—and then he’s sliding two thick fingers inside you, pumping them slow and deep, his thumb brushing over your clit with each thrust. You teeth sinking into your lip to stifle a small cry.

“You want me to fuck you in it?” he whispers, leaning down, lips grazing your throat. “You want me to take you while you’re wrapped up in my robe, smelling like me, dripping all over my sheets?”

You gasp, clutching his shoulders, legs spreading wider, body aching for him.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Obi-Wan—please—”

He pulls his fingers out, grips your hips, and lines up the thick head of his cock, pressing it against your entrance.

“Then take me,” he growls, thrusting in one smooth, devastating stroke, filling you completely, making you arch and scream his name.

He doesn’t go slow.

Not this time.

He fucks you hard, deep, the robe bunched beneath your body, his cock driving into you again and again, his teeth sinking into your shoulder to keep himself from falling apart.

“Mine,” he rasps, slamming deeper, his breath hot against your ear. “My robe. My bed. My woman.”

You’re a writhing, moaning mess, nails digging into his back, head thrown back as he fucks you through it, grinding his cock into that sweet, sensitive spot inside you until you’re screaming his name, coming so hard you see stars.

And Obi-Wan?

He’s not far behind.

With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep, his cock pulsing inside you, filling you with everything he has.

After, he collapses beside you, one arm pulling you close, his face buried in your neck as he catches his breath.

You’re still wrapped in his robe, still trembling, still warm and utterly, completely his.

And as he kisses your temple, his voice is low, soft, and utterly spent.

“You wear my robe again, and I’ll fuck you even harder.Until you can’t walk for days.”

Wetting your lips, you gave the man a sly smile as you let your fingers trail down his back. "I may have to with a promise like that."