Honey

He got pretty needy when you weren’t around, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible. He wasn’t the best with boundaries. He knew you needed rest at night since you had a busy schedule during the day (and simply the fact that you were a human) but it was so difficult for him to accept. He wanted to spend the whole night with you; messing around on the boardwalk, going for bike rides in the moonlight, getting on David’s last nerve. Instead, he had to settle for the few hours the two of you had together. You didn’t mind the lack of sleep too much though. You could hardly bare to be apart from him too.

You breathed in the salty ocean air. You knew they’d be here soon. It was getting dark now, the neon lights from the boardwalk bursting into life and glinting in the moonlight. You looked up, gazing into the night sky – the moon was especially bright tonight. You couldn’t quite see the stars under the glare of the vivid lights around you, but it was a nice, clear night. You smiled to yourself, imagining the evening ahead of you. You’d probably go for a ride with the boys first (riding with Marko of course), maybe venture into the fairground or arcade with Laddie and Star. All before heading back to the cave after the boys had fed. But who really knew? No two nights were the same with them.

You glanced at your watch. 8:30pm. So they were a little late. No biggie. They’d probably decided to grab a snack before heading your way, they’d done that before. And you decided to do the same. You started heading towards your favourite take-out place, strolling along the boardwalk. It was pretty empty, which was unusual. By now the boardwalk was normally teeming with people mulling about their business. Though it was a Monday, so an early night was probably on a lot of people’s minds. There were a few people strewn about: a couple sharing a milkshake, a family playing whack-a-mole, a couple of shopkeepers setting up their stalls, and a group of 4 surf Nazis up ahead. Heavily tattooed and sturdily built, they stared you down as you approached, a sick look in their eyes.

Please don’t.

You inhaled deeply, trying to stabilise your heartbeat. It would be okay. They wouldn’t try anything. Living in the murder capital of the world, there were a lot of shady characters around. However, it was common knowledge on the boardwalk that you and the boys were tight so people didn’t want to mess with you. But these guys looked drunk. Very drunk. Two of them held nearly empty bottles of beer and were clearly swaying in place. The other two were standing by a crate of cans. Empty beer bottles were scattered around their feet. They’d clearly been having a good time. You felt your legs shake as you walked, stopping in place when one of them staggered towards you.

“Hey there, good looking… Why don’t you give us a smile?” One of them hollered, smirking at you.

You bit your lip, quickly turning around and walking briskly away. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You just wanted some food, man. Your breathing quickened when you heard them start to follow you, their footsteps thundering behind you. You broke out into a sprint, looking around desperately for anyone to help. The couple and family from earlier were nowhere to be found, the shopkeepers seemingly turning a blind eye. You were alone on the boardwalk. The thud of heavy footfalls got closer and closer until you felt a rough hand on your shoulder yank you backwards harshly, wrapping an arm around your stomach and pulling you into his chest. The potent stench of alcohol invaded your nose and the jeers of the surf Nazis made you want to sink down into the sand beneath the wooden planks.

“Why you running, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, we just wanna show you a good time!”

His grip was hard, you couldn’t break yourself free. And all around, you saw their taunting faces. You screamed and yelled for anyone to help, thrashing around in his grip, desperate tears streaming down your face. You didn’t stand a chance.

Sudden deafening roars of motorbike engines startled you, blinding headlights cascading down the wooden planks. Four bikes began to circle until they were surrounding you, boxing your captors in. Before you could even process what was happening, Marko had jumped off his bike and threw himself at the man holding you, ripping you from his grip before gently pushing you towards Dwayne. You saw the pure fury in his narrowed eyes, a mixture of revulsion and rage plastered to his face. You fell into Dwayne’s chest, burying your head into his open jacket – he wrapped a protective arm around you and nodded to Marko.

The relentless noise of skin against skin reached your ears, cracking of bone and flesh grinding against the wooden floor. You heard shouts of terror from the men who’d stalked you, pleading and begging hopelessly. Their words were slurred and incoherent as each blow rendered them closer and closer to unconsciousness. A sadistic laugh that you could recognise anywhere was the only answer to their begging. Thud after blunt thud accompanied by loud cursing (some in Italian, some not) finally had you take a peek at the havoc. You took in the sight of both Marko and Paul striking and viciously kicking the four men, who were now completely unrecognisable. Their faces were bloody messes, beaten to a pulp. Their bodies mangled. Your boys were pretty much unscathed, a couple of nicks and light bruises littered their visible skin. Marko picked one of them up by their jacket collar, lifting him high up into the air. The one who’d dared to lay a hand on you. He brought him close to his face, looking wildly into his eyes. David sent him a warning look.

“You touch ‘em again… You touch ‘em again and I will fucking end you,” he breathed menacingly, his chest heaving. He spat in his face before dropping him to the ground. The man landed in a messy heap, clawing weakly at the floor to get away.

Slowly, Marko turned to look at you, holding out a shaking hand. You immediately went to him, taking his hand without a second thought. It was wet, the leather slimy with dark red blood. You looked up at him, reaching out your hand to gently wipe the spots of red from his face.

“You okay, doll?” He asked seriously, holding your hand against his cheek, his large hand engulfing your own.

You smiled gratefully at him. “I am now… Perfect timing, by the way,” you joked half-heartedly, hoping to make him laugh. He cracked a smile but you could tell that this had shaken him. He glanced back at the boys, meeting David’s eyes.

“You guys go on ahead, we’re gonna go back to the cave for a bit,” he said, holding your hand tightly as he lead you over to his bike. David nodded and motioned for the boys to get going.

“We’ll meet you back later then,” he replied before they drove off into the night.

Marko helped you up onto the back of his bike before getting on himself. He made sure your arms were wrapped tightly around him before he sped off. You could tell that he was thinking intensely about something by how tensed he was under your touch. His muscles were hard and taut, his jaw set in place. You sighed quietly and leaned your forehead against his back as he drove.

You reached the cave quickly, Marko hopping off and helping you down. He didn’t let go of your hand until you’d made it into the cave, even then only loosening his grip slightly. You faced him, looking up into his sage green eyes. You noticed the concern, the fear – emotions you rarely saw in Marko’s eyes. What does a vampire have to fear?

“They were gonna hurt you,” he mumbled quietly. “I would’ve killed them if it wasn’t so public, if David wasn’t there, I swear..”

“I know, I know...” You assured him, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. His face was still littered with flecks of dried blood, a small cut on his chin. “You’re not hurt, are you?” You said worriedly, your hand reaching out to trace the cut.

“’M fine, babe. I’ll heal. But you-”

“They didn’t hurt me, I promise. I’m okay,”

“But they could’ve if we didn’t show up. If I wasn’t quick enough. It’s my fault-”

“What?” You looked at him incredulously. “It’s not your fault, Marko. They were just some drunk pricks and you put them in their place. That’s what matters,”

Marko knew you were right. But all he could think about was what might have happened if he hadn’t gotten to you in time. He didn’t scare easy. But losing you would make his undead heart stop again.

He looked at you now, sweet and innocent, trying so hard to reassure him. And he kissed you. He pulled you in, holding the back of your head tenderly as his lips moved in sync against yours. You hummed into the kiss, looping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself against him.

“You make me feel so safe,” you whispered against his lips.

He exhaled deeply, pulling you even closer. Nothing could part the two of you, not even the will of God, the Devil, or the Earth.

His hand gently caressed your sides, first on top of your t-shirt before carefully slipping under. His fingers ghosted over your skin, dancing below your shirt. Your lips moved in unison with his own, deepening the kiss when his hand reached below your breast. You gasped against his lips when he took hold of it, slowly massaging as he moved his other hand down to your waist. Before you could react, he lifted the hem of your shirt, disconnecting the kiss briefly to pull it over your head. He hummed approvingly at your lack of bra, his eyes surveying your body for any bruising, cuts, anything.

Finding nothing, Marko pulled you forward once again but before connecting your lips, he told you to jump. You obliged, his calloused hands catching your thighs and holding you up against his body. You could feel his erection against you, causing you to let out a moan of want. He smirked against your lips. Walking forwards, he navigated the both of you to his nest, all the while pressing sloppy kisses down your neck and chest. He eased you down steadily onto the mass of blankets and pillows, trailing hickies across your chest. You were breathing heavily, still unable to think straight. You knew the bites would be visible tomorrow, you knew you’d have to explain them to your friends, to your co-workers – but truthfully, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You let him mark you, claiming what was his.

His tongue sliding across your breast jolted you from your thoughts. He captured your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud. Your hand gripped his blonde curls as a whine escaped your lips, your thighs clenching together in order to get some sort of release.

“Ma- Marko, fuck-” you moaned. “Please-”

“Please what, dove?” He mumbled against you.

“Please… more,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes below. He smiled at you sweetly, his hands making quick work of your shorts. He pulled them off and took his time sliding your panties down your legs. Your face burned as he drank you in, his eyes raking across your body like a starved man.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, doll,” he whispered, tracing his fingers down your thighs and leading kisses down your legs. “And you’re all mine.”

He possessively pulled your thighs so that you were hovering over his mouth, a surprised shriek escaping your throat. He grinned before teasingly licking his way up the inside of your thigh, stopping just before he got to your aching pussy. He waited until he heard the frustrated huff you let out before diving in. He licked a long stripe right up the centre of your core, attaching his lips to your clit and swirling figure eights around it. You couldn’t help but gasp, your thighs involuntarily closing around his head as your hands flew to his curls, pushing him further down. He had your legs shaking in seconds, his pace never faltering as he devoured you.

You couldn’t think, you couldn’t breathe – your chest heaved and you couldn’t stop the high whines and moans that you were making. He was relentless. Each noise you made just encouraged him to give you your high. His leather clad hands were so tight around your thighs, you knew they’d leave marks behind afterwards. He traced your sensitive lips with his tongue, moaning at the taste. He paid special attention to your clit and when he felt you getting closer to snapping, he sucked it hard. You came on his tongue in minutes, chanting his name as he coaxed you through it.

Marko really was in ecstasy, groaning as he tasted you on his tongue. Your body was writhing on the blankets, sweat glistening on your skin. You were glowing. He pulled himself back up to your mouth to place a sweet kiss. You panted, impatiently pulling at his jacket and belt. He chuckled at your restlessness, nuzzling into you.

“So impatient, dove. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he said teasingly but so softly. He straightened up, shrugging off his jacket and discarding his crop top onto the floor. Your eyes shamelessly explored his body, tracing the outline of his muscles and landing pointedly on his crotch. He smirked down at you, finally unbuckling his belt and removing his jeans. His bulge was even more prominent now, his boxers doing nothing to help hide it. You reached out, hooking your fingers into the waistband of them and pulled them down swiftly. His cock sprung out and up, deliciously hard and thick. He kicked his jeans off fully and looked back to you, gazing into your eyes intensely. There was an emotion you couldn’t quite describe in his eyes. Lust? Possessiveness?

You attempted to move forwards to take his dick into your mouth, desperate to return the favour. Instead, he pushed you back and took your hands, intertwining them with his own. He manoeuvred you down so that you were lying on the bed, perfectly spread out for him. He hovered over you, not once breaking eye contact. His eyes were almost glowing, drinking you in in this position. So helpless, so revealing – yet with complete and utter trust in him.

“You’re mine. And if anyone ever tries anything like that again, I’ll kill ‘em where they stand, they won’t get off so easy, I swear,” he said seriously. Hot. You weren’t going to lie, seeing him get so territorial really made you hot and bothered. His protective side wasn’t something you saw often, but when you did, you knew you were in for a hell of a night.

You could feel the head of his dick pressing against your heat, whimpering pathetically at the touch. But Marko stayed still, looking down at you expectantly. He was waiting for a reply.

“I know you would, baby. Now please-”

“Say it.”

You blinked. “Say what?”

He leaned in close and whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your neck. “Say you’re mine.”

Your breath hitched and you felt a shiver run up your spine. Goosebumps popped up all over your body from the tone of his voice, from the feeling of his hot breath against you, tickling your neck. You leaned forward slightly, so you could reach his ear. You took the lobe into your mouth, biting softly to force a hiss from Marko. You smirked against his skin before replying alluringly.

“I’m yours.”

It was like a switch had been pulled inside him. He growled lowly, gripping your waist tightly and before you could properly prepare yourself, he pushed himself into you. You gasped at the intrusion, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. His size wasn’t anything to laugh at and you were glad that he’d taken the time to lube you up properly beforehand. Your previous orgasm made slipping inside easy and soon he was balls deep inside you, your pussy sucking him in. He held your waist tightly, anchoring you before thrusting into your tight heat. His pace was truly inhuman, fucking in and out of your waiting hole until all you could scream was his name. As he took you, he continued muttering the same sentence, the same word.

You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine… Mine, mine… Mine.

Your sweaty bodies moved in sync, fitting together like the most perfect puzzle pieces. The scent of sex hung in the air in a thick haze. You felt so incredible around him and he made sure you knew that. His groans mixed in with his words (more often than not hushed Italian cursing) were like music to your ears, deep and low from his chest. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the heavy feeling of him inside you; it was all too much.

Marko leaned forwards, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss. You were breathless. His hands moved up from your waist, taking your hands in his as he fucked you. There was one thing on your mind as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night; you had to say it.

“Marko...” you stuttered out, tapping his shoulder weakly as your body shot up and down on the blanketed surface.

“Yeah, doll?” he replied, never ceasing his thrusts.

“I love you,” you whispered, looking deeply into his eyes as the knot in your stomach got tighter still. “I love you so much and I’m so glad you’re mine,”

He moaned loudly at your words, his eyes glazing over. He suddenly moved his hands to your thighs, picking you up and leaning backwards on his knees. He held you against him as he aggressively pumped up into you. The new angle only made you feel him deeper and harder, a high pitched whine ripping from your throat. You hung onto him, letting him use your body.

“Love you so much, make me feel so safe when I’m with you, know no one will hurt me when I’ve got you-” you babbled into his ear, filling his ego even more than he thought was possible.

“Fuckk, I love you too, mia colomba- love you so fucking much,” he grunted into your ear, his hips moving harder and faster against you. “All fucking mine, taking me so fucking well fuck-”

You could tell that he was close. His hips were stuttering against you, ramming his dick into you as hard as he possibly could. His groans were getting louder and more frequent, completely lost in your pussy. And you weren’t far off either. As you got closer to your orgasm, you pulled him in and kissed him deeply, all tongue and teeth, tangling your fingers into his sweaty blonde curls. One of his hands moved from your thighs up to your ass, pulling you tightly against him.

“I’m so close doll, fuck,” he panted, laying his forehead against yours.

“Me too, baby, you’re fucking me so, so good, gonna make me come so hard-,” you whimpered. You didn’t think he could fuck you harder than he already was but you were quickly proven wrong. His hips slapped against the back of your thighs rapidly, forcing high pitched screams of pleasure from you. His whole body tensed as he desperately tried to get you to finish before himself, holding onto his orgasm no matter how much he wanted to bury himself inside your aching heat and let go. He didn’t need to try very hard.

Within seconds, you were coming around his cock, collapsing against his chest; a moaning mess. Your eyes went blurry from the pure pleasure, Marko hitting the perfect spot over and over again as you came, overstimulating you oh so deliciously. Your pussy tightened as you came hard, convulsing on his cock. Marko cursed as you contracted around him, almost as if your pussy was begging for him to come inside.

“Fuck, you’re mine. Mine, mine, mine, fuck- ‘M gonna come baby, ‘m gonna come inside, shit-” he muttered incoherently, his hip movements starting to get sloppy with the fast pace he’d set. You clung to him, thighs shaking as he shot his hot load inside you, groaning while he pulled you down onto his cock harshly, forcing you to take every last drop. The feeling of him shooting inside you, claiming you, was one of your favourite feelings.

You both stayed there for a moment, basking in the afterglow. You felt as though you could hardly move, your hips aching from even the slightest movement. Sex with Marko always ended like this, you usually needed at least a day or two to recuperate. Once Marko had regained his senses, he gently lifted you off of his cock, causing a quiet wince to leave you. Carefully, he laid you down onto the pile of blankets, wrapping you up in his arms and tugging you against his chest. He listened to the soft rise and fall of your breath, the slight shaking of your limbs. The fucked out expression on your face.

Dwayne was many things–patient, caring, attentive, coolheaded and loyal–but with her, he found himself obsessing over the way she smiled up at him whenever they spoke. Or the way she laughed and he had to feign nonchalance like the sound hadn’t sent blood rushing to his dick and a multitude of thoughts to careen through his head. Of how she tasted, the way he could make her squirm, the sounds she made or the way she felt wrapped around his cock.

This isn’t helping me, at all, he thought, watching as she shifted on the mattress and he gingerly slipped from beneath the sheets. 

Heading toward the room’s doorway before her voice rippled to his ears and he came to a jarring halt, his head turning ever-so-slowly back to where she lay, sound asleep. He waited a moment, locked in the doorway with his gaze pinned upon her, wondering if this was a cruel mind trick played by Paul and Marko. Hell, he wouldn’t have been surprised if David was a part of it–all three blonds notorious for their love of mind games.

But then, the saccharine call he thought he’d heard from her lips filled his ears. A sound so sweet, it almost brought him to his knees. Something his companions continuously taunted him about, the trio aware of his infatuation with the human woman he cared about. But neither of the trio was game enough to cross him, knowing the ease with which he went from coolheaded to protective–possessive–but it didn’t deter their playful jests.

“Dwayne,” she called again, her voice all breathy and laced with lust.

As hard as he tried–which wasn’t very hard at all–he couldn’t fight the smug grin that crept across his face, approaching her with wolfish ease. He knew she was a moderately light sleeper but still, he reached out and pulled the blankets away from her body, baring her to his hungry eyes as he sunk onto his jean-clad knees at the end of the bed and admired her for several moments.

It was as she shifted on the mattress and his dark irises locked on the pearl-white lace that contrasted perfectly with her skin, that his deeply timbered voice filled the room. “Fuck.”

“If you’re going to fuck her, can I watch?” Came Paul’s husky voice through their pack’s bond.

Dwayne’s eyes rolled at the hopeful edge of his companion’s voice–and where he wasn’t opposed to sharing her with him–he didn’t want to share her right now. “Paul,” he warned.

“Is that a yes?” Paul questioned, an audible sigh skittering down their bond when the brunette didn’t immediately respond. “Dwayne?”

Dwayne’s large palms smoothed over her bare legs, up her thighs until he grasped the soft flesh and gently pulled her to the bed’s edge, careful not to wake her as his stare traversed her features. 

“Not tonight.” Came his distracted response before Paul’s presence vanished from his mind.

With a tenderness he reserved for her and her alone, he parted her legs until the flesh of her thigh pressed and bracketed his shoulders. Careful not to nick her skin as he lithely cut the lace from her body, tossing it over his shoulder with little care before he settled his hands upon her inner thighs. Kneading the flesh for a moment as if to savour the feel of her, his ebony tresses tousled and framed his face like a wrathful god whilst his umber gaze remained trained on her face as he dipped his head and his tongue dragged a sensual trail over her labia.

A soft noise tumbled from her lips as he focused his attention on her clit for several seconds, his fingertips sinking into her skin when he dragged a slow stripe up her cunt. He couldn’t stop the low groan that emanated from the depths of his chest if he tried as the taste of her cloyed on his tongue, the sound vibrating into her clit in a way that drew a soft, sleepy gasp from her lips, and for her eyes to groggily blink down at him. 

“Dwayne…what are you–what are you doing?” Her brows furrowed as a breathy moan tumbled from her mouth and she subconsciously ground her cunt into his face, his grasp tightening on her in response.

His head lifted from her cunt, grinning up at her whilst his fingers leisurely toyed with her clit. Like he had all the time in the world. “Oh, this?” He drawled, feigning confusion, fingers dragging the mix of his saliva and her arousal up to circle the sensitive nerve ending, a sharp breath sucked into her chest as a single, thick digit salaciously sunk into her cunt. “I’m taking care of my sweet girl. I’m worshipping her.”

His finger dragged torturously slow, his eyes locked on her face and the way her head tipped back into the sheets when his thumb pressed into her clit, a second digit slipping into her cunt as his pace never faltered. Dwayne’s fingers continued their steady strokes, fingertips curling in a way that wrenched a guttural moan from her lips and a dozen curses to rent off the cavernous walls.

“Fuck, Dwayne. Don’t stop,” she said, hands bunching the sheets beneath her.

“And refuse you of what you want? I don’t think so. I do have a better idea that’ll benefit us both.” A dark chuckle filled her ears, his eyes flashing with something sinful as he pulled his fingers from her cunt and they nimbly unbuttoned his jeans, shoving the fabric down his muscular legs and kicking it off to the side. 

“Benefit us both how?” She said, holding his dark gaze.

“Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.” Came his response as his lips tugged into a wolfish grin.

Without much thought, her legs dutifully parted for him, creating more space for him between her thighs as he discarded his boxers in the same direction as his pants. She watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself, stepping into the space between her legs before he teasingly dragged his tip across her cunt and one of his hands grasped the flesh of her hip, the other pressed into the fabric beside her.

“Please,” she murmured as he lowered his head and his lips brushed hers, drawing circles into her clit with the head of his cock.

The muscles of his abdomen rippled beneath his skin, capturing her attention before his voice filled her ears. “What do you want, beautiful? Tell me what you want. Use your words.”

“I want you,” she breathed out against his lips, pushing herself onto her elbows so she could connect their lips, kissing him whilst one of her hands skittered over the chorded muscles of his arm and tangled in his dark locks.

And like it took everything in him to pull away–his lips hovering above hers a hairsbreadth away–the hand by her side balled into a fist and his voice lowered several, heady octaves. “Where?” He grounded out through clenched teeth, the action seeming to sharpen his jawline.

Her brows furrowed with confusion for a moment. “What?”

“Where do you want me, sweet girl? Where do you want my cock?” He rasped, pressing a sensual kiss to the underside of her jaw before he nipped at the soft skin.

“Inside me,” she said, gasping as the first few inches of his cock plunged into her cunt, his girth stretching her insides in a euphoric way. His lips met with hers for a moment, kissing her with ravaging quality before she pulled away from his mouth. “Dwayne,” her gaze darted to where they were connected and the inches his cock still needed to enter her–every glorious inch of him that sent her mind reeling–as he slowly pressed more of his cock into her. “You’re so…big.”

He hummed in response, pressing firm, adoration-filled kisses to her throat. “You say that every time, my love, but look how well you’re taking me.”

His words clamoured in her mind, dousing her in a lust-filled haze when he slowly drew back and plunged the rest of his cock into her, his thumb drawing circles into her clit. A breathy moan–part curse, part garbled moan–fell from her lips, body sinking into the mattress as he quickened the pace of his thrusts and the head of his cock brushed a spot inside her that made her squirm.

Dwayne’s dark tut traipsed across the room, hands grasping her hips to prevent her from squirming. “Not so fast. You wanted me inside you and I gave it to you. So now, you’re going to take it like a good girl.” His thrusts deepened as he peered down at her, revelling in the way soft pants escaped past her lips. “Are you my good girl?”

“Yes,” she breathed dazedly, gasping as his cock pressed against her G-spot and the budding tide of her orgasm crept to the forefront of her mind. “Fuck, Dwayne. I’m your good girl.”

A deep groan fell through his lips, head tipping up to the ceiling as he purposely thrust his hips in a way that he knew would collide with her G-spot and his thumb pressed into her clit, mounting her orgasm as he felt her clench around his cock.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl,” he praised, tearing his gaze from the roof to traverse her body before his thrusts seemed to falter and he hurriedly freed her from the dark fabric of his shirt. His mind short-circuited for a moment when his stare landed on where his cock thrust steadily into her, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he refocused on her bare body.

A large hand cupped her breast, mildly irritated at himself for not paying them any attention sooner as he rolled one taut nipple between his fingers whilst his mouth captured the other and he alternated between circling her nipple with his tongue and sucking hickeys into her skin.

“Dwayne,” she moaned, all breathy and filled with a desperation he recognised.

He knew what she wanted the moment her strained plea met his ears, pulling away from her breasts as the hand at her hip tightened and he rolled his hips in a way that drew another moan from her lips, her cunt clenching around him. “Yes, my sweet girl?”

His lips brushed against hers, her soft pants warming his face as he peered down at her with wolfish delight and she managed to form a coherent sentence through the lust-filled haze of her mind. “I’m going to cum. Fuck, let me cum…please.”

“With manners like that? Who am I to deny you?” he drawled, his hand trailing over her chest to grasp the nape of her neck. Supporting her head as he drew her closer to himself and his teeth elongated into fangs, sinking into her throat in the same moment the head of his cock brushed against her G-spot.

A pleasure-riddled moan echoed across the room and down the darkened tunnelways, no doubt reaching Marko, David and Paul’s ears as she came and he swallowed languid mouthfuls of her blood. He pulled away from her throat in the next heartbeat, head tipping back to the ceiling as he came with a guttural moan, fingertips sinking into her hips.

Her blood coated his chin, dripping down his throat to the chiselled plains of his stomach when he refocused on the room around him and he nimbly hooked her legs around his waist, climbing onto the mattress and situating them in the middle of the bed. Dwayne dragged the assortment of blankets over her body as he tucked her into his side, fussing with the pillows until he was satisfied with her comfort and his blood-stained lips pressed a loving kiss to hers, arms woven over her waist.

A content hum tumbled from her lips as his fingers grasped her chin and he angled her head to bare his marks to his gaze, lathing his tongue over the weeping indents he left behind, ensuring they closed beneath his dark stare. The taste of her cloying on his tongue as he forced himself to refrain from plunging his fangs into her throat once more, always craving her like an untapped hunger that couldn’t be quenched.

She rolls her eyes, but looks up from her work nonetheless. “Billy.”

The man in question crosses his arms, locking eyes with the redhead. “Maxine.”

Max finishes Eleven’s braid and she hops up to join Will where he’s working on a puzzle. Joyce brought it home from work a few days ago, and it’s been spread out on a card table in the corner of the living room since then. Will couldn’t watch The Golden Girls with Joyce from the kitchen table. 

“Just come with us, Billy. We all know you hate it here. It’ll give you a chance to get away for a little while.”

Except that’s not totally the truth. He doesn’t hate it here. Not with you around. 

“There’s a pool.” Will looks up, a little shyly, from the puzzle, fingers flipping around a single piece. “At the place Robin found.” 

Billy nods, and it’s enough to make Will smile at the acknowledgment. 

It’d been Steve’s idea, after everything that happened in July. He thought everyone going on a trip together might be a good idea. Go a little ways out from home, calm down. 

You and Billy started going to school, though Billy is still working. He found a job at a record store across the street from Melvald’s that opened after the mall went to shit. It definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it works. And he’s slowly fixing up the Camaro. 

Steve had offered to pay for the repairs in full, considering he did most of the damage when he rammed the side of it, but Billy couldn’t handle that. So far Max has only convinced him to let Steve cover the really expensive parts. It hurts Billy more than he’d care to admit—having Steve Harrington give him money. 

But he can’t lie, going somewhere away from Hawkins, even just for a couple days, sounds really nice. It’s the group part that’s bothering him. He’s still not used to everyone wanting him to tag along, but apparently major trauma brings people together.

There’s the slamming of car doors, and footsteps running up the driveway before the door swings open, Robin bursting in with a stack of movies in her arms. She’s followed by Dustin and then Steve, bags and keys being tossed every which way. 

Billy doesn’t see you for a moment and starts to worry maybe you aren’t coming. He’s already supplying excuses for having to go home, but Steve left the door ajar, and after a moment, there you are. 

You look sleepy, footsteps the quietest of everyone else as you carefully push the Byers’ door shut behind you. He watches as you accept a hug from Eleven, overhears her ask, “how did your test go?” 

He’s happy to hear you tell her it went well. It’s only after you’ve looked at her and Will’s puzzle and snapped a few more corner pieces in that you make a beeline for the open spot on the couch beside Billy. 

When you’ve settled, your knee bumps against his. “Hey.”

He looks at you, a little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His arms are still crossed, thumb playing with the pendant resting on his chest. A chest surprisingly covered by a sweater, though the sleeves are pushed up. 

“Hey. Glad your test is over?”

That sound of his voice makes you smile, and he’s never been so grateful for something, even if it’s just an expression. “Yeah.”

You glance down at the new tattoo on his arm, a dark colored snake wrapping around the skin covering his elbow. You run your thumb across the tail that flicks across his forearm, and Billy relaxes into your touch. 

“You have work today?”

Billy shakes his head. You’re glad he had the day off. And you’d tell him so if it weren’t for the sudden bombardment. 

Lucas is suddenly standing in front of you, having returned from the kitchen where you think he and Dustin may have been cleaning out Joyce’s fridge. 

“Holy shit, thank god you’re here. I need you to convince Billy to go on vacation.” 

You glance at Max, assuming she’s already tried. She looks rather annoyed. “Lucas, would you sit down?”

The boy looks at Max, and she glares at him. Clearly he knows better and sits down next to her. 

“Billy doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you finally say. 

The man in question turns to face you. You have to lean your head back some because of how close he is. 

“Are you going?” he asks, voice quiet and thick with something you don’t know that you’re supposed to notice. 

“Y-yeah. I was gonna. Robin only went on about it to me for an hour over the phone last night. I just think it might be nice to get away for a little while.” Billy doesn’t break eye contact with you, and while it makes you a little nervous, it tells you he’s listening.

“And I can watch Max for you if you really don’t want to go. Just make sure she doesn’t kill Lucas or anything.” Max snorts at your response, though Lucas looks at her in panic, already calculating how best to prevent that sort of situation. 

Your gaze softens and you fight the urge to reach out and run your thumb across Billy’s cheek. 

Please come with us. I want you to go. I want you there, you think. But it’s not what you say. You don’t know how badly he needs to hear it. 

“You really don’t have to go, Billy. Not if you don’t want to.”

“But there is enough space, man.” Steve stands behind the couch, handing El a scrunchie he retrieved from her bag. His voice is calm, informative. “If you decide to go. There’s plenty of room, and we’d be happy if you did.”

Billy could make some smartass remark. But he won’t. He knows that Steve is being honest, and that he’s not trying to be a dick. It seems that witnessing the guy who beat the shit out of you almost die not even a year after he moved to town really brings you together. 

Billy gives an acknowledging nod. “I’d be very happy if you did,” Eleven says. She loves having Jonathan as an older brother, really she does, but Billy lets her play with his hair. And in her books, that really ups the scale. 

He smiles at her, and El considers that a win. 

You notice him shift next to you, and then he’s leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Come with me?” He cocks his head in the direction of the door. 

He gets up, assuming you’ll follow him. You always do. 

When you’ve shut the door, you move to the porch swing. It’s your favorite spot out here, and Joyce says it makes her happy to see someone use it. She used to sit there with Will in the mornings after Jonathan left for school and read to him. She did the same with Jonathan, but he was a much more fidgety kid, wanting to find something else to do. 

Billy lights a cigarette, and you watch where he fidgets with the ring on his middle finger. 

He’s standing a little ways away from you so as to not breathe the smoke directly in your vicinity, but you wish so badly that he was closer. You like having him close. The weight of his body next to you, the warmth, how solid his arm feels when it’s pressed to yours or when he slides down on the couch some and it's more so pressed to your side. 

“Which part of it are you worried about?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “You really think they want me there? You think Max wants me around?” “Billy, I know she does. And I know that voice in your head is telling you that it’s a pity invite, but it’s not. And, besides…” you trail off, but he’s not having that. He needs you to reassure him. 

“Besides what?” 

You look up at him. “I want you to go. And yeah, I’ll be sad if you don’t go, but that shouldn’t sway your decision either.” You push your feet against the concrete porch a little harder, and the swing responds to the movement. You move quicker, now feeling very pleased with yourself. 

Billy almost laughs at the child-like look on your face, but you look so at home on the swing that he holds it in. A grin escapes nonetheless. 

“Say that again.” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray either Hopper or Joyce have left outside. He’s watching you again. 

“What?” He’s not gonna let you go all shy on him now. He needed to hear that. He needs to hear it. 

“You know what.”

“I want you to go.”

“Then it’s settled. Need to get out of this shithole anyways.”

————

The place Steve found is about two hours from Hawkins, with three bedrooms, a shockingly luxurious pull-out couch, and bigger common areas than you’ve ever laid eyes on. Excluding the ones in Steve’s house. In short, the rental is like Hopper’s cabin, if Hopper’s cabin were updated and substantially larger. It feels like the kind of place rich people have to take weekend trips. You’d rather not find out how much Steve is paying for the lot of you to stay there. 

Robin takes you on a grand tour while everyone else explores the backyard. Dustin is already determined to climb a tree. One of the rooms has two sets of bunk beds, dedicated to the four boys. “To ensure no cootie-spreading,” Robin proclaims. 

She and Steve will share the couch, with Max and Eleven in the smaller bedroom. 

Robin stops at the end of the hallway. “Which leaves…” 

You and Billy. 

You and Billy Hargrove.

Sharing a room. 

Sharing a bed. 

Speaking of, the man in question brushes past you, setting his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Robin takes that as her queue to leave and gives you a thumbs up on the way out. You hope she can feel your death stare on the back of her head, and she knows it, being quick to run down the hall. 

“So we’re roomies, huh?” Billy says, gathering his hair at the base of his neck. You hadn’t even realized he had a tie on him, and it takes him finishing off a lazy bun to realize it’s a blue scrunchie. You have to bite your lip to keep from saying anything. 

“I can sleep with Max and El, if you want. Or–”

That crease between Billy’s brows forms. “Why would you do that?”

You’ve gone all warm. You’d have to sleep in bed with him. And you sit next to him all the time, but this is different. Isn’t it?

Maybe it’s not so weird. You’re just friends. It’s like a sleepover, right?

“I don’t know, you might not want to sleep together or something.”

He cocks a brow, but you catch the double meaning of your words just in time. “You know what I mean, Billy.”

He sits on the end of the bed, and reaches out for you. You move towards him slowly, but the moment you’re within his grasp, Billy spreads his legs and grabs your waist, slotting your body between them. 

“You can go if you really want to. If you think I’ve got cooties or somethin’ and you don’t wanna share a bed with me.”

You snort, and Billy drinks in the sound, knowing he’s the one that made you laugh. 

“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”

You realize in that moment that his hands haven’t left their spot on your waist, never straying anywhere else. The weight of them on you is enough to keep you focused on him, and he seems to acknowledge that. 

“Then what is it?” he asks, in that low drawl you fear could get out any answer he wanted from you. 

You hesitate, but say it anyway. “You don’t think it’ll be weird? Sleeping in the same bed?”

Billy fights the urge to rest his forehead against your stomach. He wants to tell you he’s wished you were in his bed on more than one occasion. Sometimes he just wishes you were there so it wouldn’t feel so cold, so he’d have someone to pull him out of his thoughts before they eat him alive altogether. 

“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”

You nod your head, and try to move back from him. 

Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”

You go to put your hands on your hips, and they graze Billy’s on the way. He grabs hold of them. “You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”

Billy’s looking up at you with those watery blue eyes, and you know this is a battle you’ll never win. 

“Really?”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, and your eyes fall to his neck when he tosses his head back. 

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby. 

It feels like every cell in your body has been sent into overdrive, like you can’t compute a single coherent thought. All because Billy called you “baby”. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, he feels the same way. He hadn’t meant to say it. It’s just that he calls you “baby” in his head all the time, and it just…happened.

“I’d love to have a sleepover with you, Hargrove.”

“Mhm. Thought so.” 

This time he lets the laugh out, and it’s a beautiful sound. The kind of sound you’d commit unspeakable acts to hear again. And this time, he does let his forehead drop to rest on your stomach. It surprises you, but you’re not mad about it.

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, and you can feel his chuckle against your skin.

When he quits, you find yourself just standing there, find your hands moving around his back. He’s always so warm. You rub your hands up and down his back, the denim of his jacket rough on your fingertips. 

You feel him shift, feel his change in position, the hard press of his chin against you. Billy is looking up at you, and you know he’s hoping you’ll return his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you hate to think of what you must look like from this angle. Clearly he doesn’t mind. 

You push a curl behind his ear, a shockingly perfect ringlet that’s too short to be contained like the rest of them. 

Billy would be taken aback by the gesture if it weren’t for the fact that you always go this easy on him. Like you know he’s healing, in more ways than one. 

“We can’t stay here forever, you know. I wanna go look around.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m sure it’s riveting.” He lets you go anyway, following you down the hall to the rest of the cabin.

————

Your back rests on the base of an oversized chair, one that’s surprisingly comfy, your body in between Robin’s legs. She’s sitting next to Steve, watching you moderate El, Lucas, and Will play Twister. Dustin’s already out. 

“Right hand blue.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Sinclair, have you never played this game before?”

Lucas scoffs, trying to reach the blue on the other side of the mat without toppling into Will. Max went with Billy to the store, but they should be back soon. You have a sick feeling they’re taking advantage of having been given Steve’s debit card. 

“Yes, I’ve played the game before. If you’re so good, why don’t you get down here and show us how it’s done, Harrington?”

“Yeah, Harrington, why don’t you show us how flexible you are?” Billy’s voice makes you look up from where you’ve been mindlessly twisting the spinner on the board around with the tip of your finger. 

He stands just inside the living room, holding the door open with his leg. He kicks it shut once Max has made it in. She heaves the paper bags she’d been holding up and onto the counter. Steve rises to help unpack them. You follow on instinct, handing the spinner to Robin instead, and Dustin is quick to take Steve’s spot before Mike can. 

Billy won’t let you take anything from him, but he will let you help figure out what the hell to do with all of it. “Do I even want to know how much you both spent?” you ask. 

He gives you that fucking smile, and you know you don’t. “Max said she wanted to have a spa night–whatever that means–with El, so we sort of split up. I’m sure Steve’ll live.” 

“For your information, Lucas,” Steve continues, clearly not ready to let the quips towards his limberness go, “I was the captain of the swim team.”

“What’s that got to do with being flexible, dingus?” Robin directs the two remaining players, the young boy in question having just busted his ass. 

“Swimming is an art form, Rob. You gotta learn to respect it.”

You choke on a laugh, and Billy is quick to rub your back while he chuckles into your shoulder. 

“Something funny over there?” Steve questions. 

You straighten, trying to wipe the smile from your face though it’s to no avail. “Nope, Steven. I’m sure you’re just incredibly stretchy. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”

Dustin snorts, elbow deep in a bag of chips, and you quickly realize that you probably shouldn’t have given him an opening, but you don’t exactly regret it either. 

The lot of you spend the rest of the night in this fashion, playing games, eating way too much food, taking turns smacking the top of the television so your movie will keep playing. 

It feels like home. It feels safe. You wish it always felt this way. 

————

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when you hear the bedroom door click shut, hear footsteps you can tell are in search of you. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom and Billy grins at the sight of you in pajamas, a smear of moisturizer on your forehead you’ve yet to rub in. 

He squeezes in the small room, about the same size as his at home, to join you. There’s something about this moment, the domesticity of it, that makes your heart swell. It feels like something you could get used to, getting ready for bed with him. Neither of you have to say anything, you just do your own thing, but having him be there, having his presence–it’s more than enough for you. 

When you climb into bed, you try and read for a while, the sounds of Billy washing his face comforting you. You find it easy to read even when he does get in with you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight, the sheets rustling as he moves around experimentally, trying to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own. 

You feel odd though, reading when he’s right there, so it isn’t long before you close the book and slide further into the covers with him. Billy’s quick to turn on his side, wanting to see you like this. 

He watches you yank the blankets up to your chin, looking at him over a blur of fluffy white comforter. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” you tell him.

“C’mere then.”

You burrow further into your pillow, fearing you know exactly what he’s going to suggest. “Huh?”

“You’re cold. You always whine about me being warm or somethin’ and I’m telling you to come here.”

“Billy.”

“Stop.” He lifts the covers up some, untucking you from them, and he wraps his arm around your back, tugging you into his side. 

Suddenly you’re pressed against him, having slid across the sheets easier than you’d have imagined. 

He’s let go of you, his arm hovering over your back. “You want me to hold you or no?” 

“Yeah.” 

Billy lets his arm drop against your side, his fingers splaying out over your back. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, hoping it’ll warm you up. “This okay?” 

“Yes.” 

He nods. You’re looking at him like he’s something special.

Billy realizes, in that moment, that that’s how you’ve always looked at him. Even before. 

He also realizes that your hands are tucked under your chin and your legs are curled up and into you like you’re afraid of making any contact with him. 

“You can loosen up, you know. It’s just me.” 

You let out a breath of a laugh, and he can feel it against the skin of his neck. 

“It’s okay, I promise. You can touch me.” Billy has this feeling that you’re afraid of hurting him. He’s sure you’ve noticed that he’s wearing a shirt to bed, something he never did before. And he thinks that you’re worried he’ll break. 

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

He watches you unfold your hands and stretch your arm over him, hooking it around his hip. You want to rub up and down his side, but you’re nervous. 

It’s just me. 

“Do they hurt at all?”

Your thumb skates up a little further, and you don’t have to tell him what you mean. 

“Not all the time,” he says, voice low and thick with drowsiness. “At first, yeah, like hell. Now it’s just sometimes. They can feel a little tight, or just bug me. Depends, I guess.”

You nod, feeling brave enough now to slide your hand up a little further. Your touch is light, barely there. You close your eyes, trying not to think about when it happened. How he’d screamed. 

He can tell when you’ve calmed down some, because your arm relaxes and you hug him a little more firmly. You scoot in a little closer, close enough that your noses would touch if you tried to make them. 

“Goodnight, Billy.”

He makes the move, dragging the tip of his nose across your forehead. He kisses the top of your head, and you grin so wide you feel like a kid in a candy shop. 

“Goodnight, baby.”

————

When you wake up, you almost don’t want to disturb him, but you know you should get out of bed.

Billy is sprawled out on his stomach, having separated from you at some point during the night. His tank top is rucked up from the tossing and turning of sleep, and you look away when you catch a glimpse of pink skin. It doesn’t feel like your place to look. 

You wander out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind you. You make it down the hall, and find that Robin seems to be the only other one awake. You should’ve guessed. She told you once before that her body doesn’t seem to let her sleep in. 

Steve is still passed out on the pull-out couch, completely covered by the blankets. The only sign of him is a tuft of messy hair against the light colored pillow case his head rests on. 

Robin waves at you from her perch at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Want some?” she whispers, pushing the box in your direction. 

You fill up your own bowl, having a feeling that Robin is about to ramble. 

“Sleep okay?” she asks. 

“Mhm. You?”

“Fine. Though, y’know, Steve is a horrific bed hog. Seriously, he was half on top of me the whole night. I might have to bunk with Max and El.” 

You laugh, and Robin takes that as her queue to ask what she’s been pondering since she woke up. 

“Was it okay? Sleeping with Billy? Well, not like that. Well, I’m assuming not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just meant like actually sleeping? Please stop me.”

You grin at her. “Please breathe, Rob.” She does, over exaggerating her inhales. “And it was fine.”

“Okay, good. I was kind of worried you’d be frustrated with my matchmaking tendencies. I just really want you two to be happy. And he seems so calm when he’s with you, and I realize I’ve just told you that I’ve been pushing you two together and I–”

You wipe milk from your chin, having almost spit out your cereal. “Robin, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. I know about your matchmaking tendencies. But I think we’re just friends, right?”

“Just friends, my ass.” You hadn’t even seen Steve get up, but he’s reaching for the fridge and pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. He really can’t say anything about Dustin’s eating habits when he has the exact same diet. 

“Oh my god.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, there’s been something going on between you two since before the world went to shit. I don’t know why you two tiptoe around each other like it’s not obvious that you’re in love.”

“Steve!” you exclaim. “Seriously, what the hell? I’ve been up for like twenty minutes and you two are schooling me on my love life?”

“Or lack thereof,” Robin says. 

“Okay, damn. You know what, I’m going back to bed.” 

Steve pushes your bowl back towards you when you attempt to get up. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying, there’s no sense in avoiding this. You both clearly feel a lot for each other, and I don’t see any reason to avoid it when you could be together.” 

He’s being vulnerable with you, his big brown eyes boring into yours and trying to convey how serious he’s being. 

“Just think about it, okay? There’s no harm in talking about how you feel with him. And don’t say that you don’t feel anything, because that’s a goddamn lie.”

————

Billy’s had his swim trunks on all day, but he hasn’t done more than sit in the shade by the pool while everyone else makes a mess and plays ridiculous games in the water. 

It’s killing him to watch you in there from time to time, swimming around or sitting in the shallow end. You told him once that swimming calms you down. 

It’s not until after dinner, when everyone has moved inside for the most part, though there seems to be the plotting of a water balloon fight out front, that he’s brave enough to head for the pool. 

You follow him out there, see him contemplating the water. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

Billy drops the cigarette he’d been smoking, snubbing it out. “Thought about going for a swim,” he tells you. 

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I can go back inside, if you want.”

Billy turns to face you. “No. No, I want you to stay.” He wants you to see. He can’t explain why, but he does. 

“Okay.” 

He takes a shaky breath, hoping you don’t catch it. You do. You always do. 

“I just…wasn’t ready for everyone to see.”

“I understand, Billy.” 

You know what he’s really saying. He wasn’t ready for everyone to see. But he’s ready for you to see. 

“I can get in first, if that helps. And I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” you say. 

“That helps, yeah. And you can look. It’s okay.”

He watches you wade in, watches the way your swimsuit changes color as you tread water. 

Billy takes another deep breath, and he’s pulling his shirt off. He’s quick though, diving straight into the deep end, knowing he needs to get it over with. 

When he comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and he flips it out of the way, giving you a glimpse of the broad pink scar on his chest. 

He meets you halfway, and you think he’s in a serious mood until he’s splashing you like a child. 

“You motherfucker!” 

You get him back, and he’s laughing. 

Billy is laughing and he looks so pretty in the last of the day’s sunlight, beads of water sliding over his collarbones and down his arms, and you feel like you could die. Like seeing him this way is enough. You don’t need anything else.

You try to return a particularly aggressive splash, but he catches your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Billy!”

“What?” His voice is teasing. He tosses the rest of the way over, your laughter fading out into the water. 

You come up, a brilliant smile on his face. Billy’s sure if you stood close enough you’d be able to hear his heart beating. 

When you’ve both gone quiet, your eyes drop to the scars on his sides, the way they stretch across his skin, mean and twisting. Some spots are darker than others, and while it hurts you to look at them, you know it must hurt him even more. But he looks just as beautiful as before, if not increasingly so. 

“See something you like?” Billy says it on instinct. To hide the fact that he’s worried you don’t really like it. That maybe you think he’s gross looking. But he knows that’s all in his head. He fucking knows it. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”

You say it with such surety, such admiration, that he can’t even begin to doubt that you mean it. 

He smiles at you. It’s boyish. You’d do anything to see a million more of them. 

He moves towards you, the sky having darkened enough that the outside lights have come on, the lights in the pool too. All that remains of the sun is a slash of deep orange, though the night quickly pushes it away.

Billy’s got you backed up against the wall of the pool now. His hands find your sides.

It’s overwhelming, having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face, see the rise and fall of his chest, the freckles on his cheeks. 

When he kisses you, you think your heart stops. His mouth is warm against yours, and he tastes a little like chlorine, but you don’t care. Your hands find his face, and you’re smiling so hard that he pulls away because he wants to see. You don’t let him for long though, pulling him back, wanting more. He laughs into your mouth, and your chest aches with this feeling.

Eventually you do let go, and when you hold his eye contact, he knows what you’re going to say. He needs to tell you first, though.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” you respond.

He tosses his head back in a laugh, and you press a sweet kiss to his throat. 

“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”

“Damn right you are.”

You snort against his chest, lowering slightly to kiss his scar. His breath catches. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you. 

“About fucking time!” Steve’s shouting and Robin is yelling, and Max would be making barf sounds if she wasn’t so pleased with seeing her brother so happy. 

“So much for that,” Billy says.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

————

“I’m regretting this, Billy.”

“Stop whining.”

Billy wraps his arms tighter around your back, pressing a kiss to your jaw in hopes that you’ll let him keep doing this. 

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Get off, please.”

“Make me.” 

There’s the sound of a slap, your hand having met his ass.

He raises his head from where he’d buried it in your chest, looking at you drowsily. “You just spanked me.”

And you’d do it again. 

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Shut up and take it.”

By that he means continue letting him lay on top of you, his entire body pressed to yours. It doesn’t matter to him that there’s an entire bed, one that’s made for two people.

You settle for playing with his hair, something he seems to enjoy, and you’d mess with him about the fact that he’s essentially purring if it weren’t for him looking so content. 

He might be heavy, but having Billy Hargrove sleep on top of you isn’t exactly something you just give up. 

He’s never had this before.

Hell, you’ve never had this before. 

And he thinks it’s healing him. More than the salve he puts on his scars, or the physical therapy, or fixing up the Camaro. 

You’re healing him. You. 

————