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He finds himself thinking of you often. At night, when he should be sleeping instead of fisting his cock to thoughts of you coming undone around him. In meetings, when he should be paying attention to financial reports instead of wondering what you were up to.

Zeno taps the end of his pen against his chin. He's in one such meeting now, in Victor's office. Victor seems to hardly be paying attention himself. Movement flashes by the window as the stakeholder on the telephone drones on and on. Zeno's eyes flicker to the hallway.

There you are. You stop in front of the window as you speak with some guy. You're beautiful when you aren't paying attention. You're beautiful anyway, but especially when you're being serious. Zeno watches you as you point to the paper in your hand, showing your associate something you'd found.

The associate says something, and your nose crinkles as you laugh. He seems really proud of himself for making you laugh. His gaze travels your body in a way Zeno doesn't like.

"What do you make of that, Zeno?" Victor asks loudly.

Zeno snaps back to attention. "Of course. Send it through."

The stakeholders sputters some sort of baffled response. Your name is brought up and Zeno looks at the phone.

"I just don't think its necessary--"

"It is," Zeno says. "The faster we find Elpis, the quicker your investment pays off. You'd do better to keep quiet and keep the checks coming."

Victor smiles, amused, as the stakeholder mumbles something under his breath. Once the call is over, he turns to the paperwork in his hands, adjusting his glasses.

"You seem distracted, Zeno. Something the matter?"

Zeno doesn't answer. The smell of your perfume wafts through as you waltz in. You smell like vanilla and roses. He knows because he can't get the smell off his clothes. You slap the back of his head with the file in your hand.

If looks could kill...

"Got these done early," you chirp, plopping the file onto Victor's desk. You spin to face Zeno, sitting down on the arm of the chair he's sitting in. He moves his arm to make room for you. "Gotta question for you, Z."

"My name isn't--"

"Some of the staff is going to a club tomorrow. Will you come with me?" You ask.

Zeno looks at you over the brim of his glasses like you have two heads.

"I don't do clubs," he says, as if it isn't obvious.

You groan and shift forward, throwing your legs into his lap. He shoves you off and you rest your hand on your chin.

"Come on! It'll be fun," you beg, sticking your bottom lip out in a cute pout.

"Ask Victor."

You roll your eyes. "I cannot walk around in a club with the Cript Keeper over there. No offense, Victor."

Victor doesn't even look up from his paperwork. "None taken, dear."

You smile and turn back to Zeno, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears.

"There's a guy-- Don't roll your eyes at me," You laugh, and his heart begins to race. "He's really sweet but I'm not interested. And I know if I go alone, he'll try and come on to me."

"Tell him to get lost," Zeno says. He pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. You pluck the lit cigarette from his hand. He loses his breath watching you bring the cigarette to your lips. You take a quick hit, blowing the smoke in his face.

Zeno subtly adjusts the way he's sitting to hide his growing erection.

"I've tried telling him, but he isn't getting the hint. It's making me uncomfortable," You say, completely oblivious to what you're doing to him.

"Do you need me to intervene?" Victor asks, finally looking up from his papers.

You shake your head. "No, it's okay. If Zeno doesn't want to, I guess I can--"

"What's the address?" Zeno asks.

You break out into a smile and grab his arm, careful to keep from burning him with the cigarette. Your touch sends sparks up his body.

"You're the best! I'll text you later, okay?" You give him the cigarette and bless him with a quick peck on the cheek before darting off out of the office.

Zeno sighs, rubbing his temples. You're going to kill him one day. He needs to remind himself that, despite the amount of hickeys and bite marks he'd left across your body, you are not his. Still, the idea of any man putting his hands on you is...irritating, to be polite. If you feel uncomfortable, that needs to be remedied immediately.

"Try and have some fun, Zeno," Victor muses, "At the very least, you two can...'resolve your issues' somewhere besides the vacant closets of my clinic."

"Shut up," Zeno mutters. His phone dings. It's a text message from you, complete with a winky face.

God help him.

Zeno isn't cut out for clubs. He realizes that as soon as he walks in. The club is dark enough for him to take his sunglasses off, and the flashing and strobing lights are enough to distract from his strange pupils. The club itself is more elevated than he expected, completed with leather seating and a brightly lit bar.

You're already there and three drinks in. You're silhouetted by the lights of the bar, clad in a short, tight dress. The lights behind you act like a halo, framing your face in such a flattering way. He swallows thickly as he approaches you.

You're making a face at something the guy next to you is saying. Zeno recognizes him; He's the same guy from the hallway.

"No thanks," You're saying, "I'm with someone, actually. I'm waiting on him."

"You can dance for a little while, though, right?" the guy teases. His eyes drink you in. Zeno bites back the knee-jerk reaction to pull Redemption from its holster. He couldn't anyway. Victor made him leave it behind.

The guy reaches for you and you retract. Zeno is there in the blink of an eye. He wraps his arm around your waist lazily, leaning down to kiss you slowly. You're muffled surprise makes him chuckle against your mouth. For a second he forgets the man is even there-- its only you two and the music blaring around you.

When he does pull away, Zeno makes sure to meet the man's gaze. He looks incredulous. Good.

"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart," Zeno says. Nothing wrong with playing the part.

Your face is uncharacteristically red. You stumble over your words as you introduce the man, but Zeno doesnt care to listen. The man is small, insignificant; Someone who thinks they're bigger than they are. His least favorite type of person.

"T--this is Zeno," you say, "He's my--"

"I'm her boyfriend," Zeno says quickly. He pulls you close to his side.

"Yeah. That," You squeak. Zeno's never seen you so flustered before.

The guy holds up his hands in defeat, walking away wordlessly. He doesn't seem happy, but that doesn't matter.

Zeno's heated gaze lands on you and you blink up at him.

"You didn't say he was putting his hands on you."

"He normally doesn't--"

"Don't make excuses for him. And besides," Zeno tugs the back of your dress down, "I thought you said you weren't interested in him."

"I'm not wearing this for him," you say, cocking your head to the side.

Zeno's mouth runs dry and he clears his throat. "Then who are you wearing it for?"

He wants to hear you say it. The thumping of his heart in his chest almost drowns out the music. Say it. Say you wore it for me.

Instead you give him a coy smile and turn your head at the sound of your name. Some of your coworkers are calling to you, gesturing for you to get back onto the dancefloor. You look back at Zeno and he nods.

"Go on. I'll be right here."

"Thanks, Z," You say, smiling so bright he thinks he might not want to see anything else. You squeeze his arm as you walk by. "Get whatever you want to drink. Its on me!"

He takes your spot, sipping casually on a drink offered to him by the bartender.

Are you always so bubbly around people? He knows you're well liked by the clinic staff. And Victor himself has put his neck on the line plenty of times on your behalf.

What is it about you?

You, who holds such little power in the grand scheme of things, yet you keep him on such a painfully one-sided short leash. You aren't like him. You aren't... really anything special in comparison to other humans like himself. And somehow, watching you smile at him, watching the way your eyes twinkle, you are the most special thing to have ever come into his life.

You dance with your friends, laughing and swaying your hips to the music. Completely relaxed, now that he's here watching over you. For a single moment he decides:

Zeno wants to see you this carefree all the time.

He drinks more than he should, but it's alright. He isn't driving tonight anyway. There's something about alcohol that helps the nerves.

You stumble over to him, still giggling as your friends disperse. He opens his arms to you and you latch onto him like a lost child.

Any confidence you have slips away. You scoot back onto the bar stool chair, opening your legs just enough to tug him between them. Zeno keeps his hands on your hips. Safely. Appropriately. You reach back behind you and grab a drink. Ice cold condensation drips onto his hand.

"I'm really glad you came tonight," you say, hiding a smile behind the glass.

"Being a glorified bodyguard only goes so far," he mutters.

"Thought you were my boyfriend. A bodyguard wouldn't kiss me like that," your words slur, pressing the glass into his hand.

Zeno says nothing, instead bringing the glass to his lips. The liquor splashing around inside is strong. Your lipstick is smeared on the glass.

"You're drunk," he says.

"Very," you admit. "But so are you, right?"

Your hands roam his stomach, climbing his silk shirt to play with the buttons undone at the top. Goosebumps raise along his skin and he nearly chokes on the liquor. You mutter something he can't hear over the bass of the club music. Zeno leans forward and you place your mouth next to his ear.

"...Said I was worried you wouldn't show up," You say, lips brushing his earlobe.

Thank god for the dim lighting. Zeno sets the glass down on the table behind you; you take the opportunity to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"Only for you," he said close to you. After a minute, he adds, "I can't imagine Victor walking in here. He really would stick out like a sore thumb."

You laugh and the sound nearly makes his knees weak. I dont think you've ever laughed at something I said.

"I just... wanted to have fun with you. I know you hate me and all--" the liqour is making you more honest than normal.

"I don't actually hate you," Zeno says. He can't meet your gaze. Instead he looks out onto the dance floor.

People of varying degrees of intoxication dance out there, some moving against each other in more intimate ways than others. There's a couple here, a couple there. A group of women dancing and laughing together. Some men looking for a good time.

"If i hated you, I wouldn't be here," he says finally. Zeno doesn't normally drink; He finishes off your drink for you as you watch him carefully.

"Why did you come?"

"You needed me."

His hand traces the inside of your thigh. You relax your legs enough for him to rest his hand between them. When he looks at you again, you cup his face with your hands and kiss him slowly.

You taste like alcohol. The rest of the club, all the people there, the music --none of that matters. The only thing invading his senses is the feeling of your tongue against his, how soft your skin is under his touch, and the way you gasp against him as he glides his hand further up. Every sound you make goes straight to his groin, hardening his cock. Your breath is all that matters; the only song he wants to hear. When you pull away, he trails his mouth down your throat.

"I really really like you, Zeno," you say against his ear. He pulls away enough to look into your eyes. His gold pupils search yours.

You're drunk. People say things they don't mean when theyre drunk.

"You don't mean that," he says quietly.

"I do," you insist, pressing your forehead against his. "I always have. That's why I pulled you into the closet. 'Cause I--"

Zeno kisses you hard. His ears ring from the music and your voice. He can't hear you say it. If you say it, he won't be able to stop himself. Your hands hastily unzip his pants and you run your nails across his erection. Zeno shudders at the pleasure.

"Here?" He asks, voice almost gone to the club atmosphere.

"I don't even care. I just need you inside me," You say.

The heavy bass of the club rattles the wall behind you. The two of you are in a dark corner. It'd have to do. That's the least of his concerns anyway.

His head is swimming from drinking so much, foggy from the sweet, soft smell of your skin. He needs you. Now.

Zeno's hands bunch and push up your dress--

You're completely naked underneath. The realization hits him and his eyes move from your glistening cunt to your ruddy face.

"I told you earlier," You breathe, closing your legs shyly. "I wasn't wearing this dress for him."

"Don't hide from me," Zeno says quietly.

His hands push your knees apart and he grips the base of his cock, tapping your slick cunt. You whimper, biting your lip as he slowly pushes inside. He can't fuck you like he wants here. Zeno'd have you on the table with your legs over his shoulders if he could. Instead you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your forehead to his as he thrusts slowly into you. Slow enough for no one to really notice the motion, slow enough for to drive you both crazy.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as he bottoms out.

"I can't stop thinking-- oh fuck-- thinking about you," you say.

Pleasure tingles up his spine. His heart is doing odd thumps.

"How long?" He grits his teeth.

"Since we last fucked," you confess. You open your mouth to speak again but he's quietly picking up the pace, fuck you in short, shallow thrusts. Your chair rattles softly.

"Every night?" He asks. His thumb circles your clit.

"Yes! F--fuck, Zeno," you gasp.

Every night. Every night, he thinks of you. And for just a few hours, you're his. At least, he can pretend anyway. His fingers press into your hips, savoring the soft skin there. His hip thrusts are sloppy and uncoordinated thanks to the alcohol blurring his judgment.

You bury your head into the crook of his neck. Every thrust pulls a gasp from you, a soft moan telling him he's hitting you exactly where you need him to. Your nails dig painfully into his shoulders, chasing the pleasure riding up his spine.

"I'm coming-- Zeno--!" You bite down on his shoulder hard, crying out with a pitiful moan. "Come inside me, please--"

He can't advise against it. Can't speak or even act on his own. Zeno slams his hips into you, moaning lowly as he spills into you. You offer him a satisfied moan, pressing your lips to the angry mark you left on his shoulder.

The two of you remain motionless as the world comes back into view. Music thumps around you, coupled with laughter and people chatting. Somehow, you've remained undetected. Zeno stays inside you for a moment as he softens.

You wrap your arms around his waist. He rests his chin on your head, closing his eyes.

Victor is still in his office working when Zeno stumbles in. The sun hasn't even risen yet. You've been dropped off at your apartment, half asleep, with cum dripping down your legs. Zeno lays down on the leather couch. The office spins across his vision.

"Did you have a good time?" Victor asked. He looks from his paperwork to Zeno's form.

"Shut up," Zeno grumbles.

He lays his arm across his eyes to block out the desk lamp light. His clothes smell like you. If he really focuses, he can still feel the warmth of your skin against his.

"I really really like you, Zeno."

Victor raises his eyebrow as Zeno sighs.

Victor I'm going to KILL YOU I HATE YOU FUCK YOU I'M AFTER YOU. COUNT YOUR DAYS HOE. COUNT THEM.

SONG: Party Addict x Hotel Room