Bea

Holy fuck, you wanted to gouge your eyes out.

You had a glass of wine in your hand, staring at the crowd of old, wealthy hags, sipping the drink briefly out of boredom.

You were at yet another fancy party in some rich person’s mansion, accompanied by your best friend Derek, the son of President Jessica Danforth and CEO of Danforth Enterprises. You had been good friends with him for a very long time, the two of you always stirring up trouble whenever together.

You stare down at the deep scarlet of your drink, intensely zoning out as you thought about the night before. A pair of hands caressing the skin on your thighs, legs tightening around hips, wrists held above your head, and loud, sultry moans and sounds filling the room.

And then you snapped out of it as you felt a tap on your shoulder. You looked up to see exactly him—Derek.

“This party is ass,” you grumble to him, taking a sip from your drink.

“I know,” he replies, sipping his. “Any luck with finding investors?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I have people doing that for me,” you scoff.

“Right,” he nods.

“Any luck with convincing some poor girl to invest in crypto?” You ask, looking at him as you raise an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he answers with a sigh, but a smile was plastered on his face.

You chuckled at his reply. “Hah. I’m not surprised. Crypto is fucking ridiculous.”

“Hey, fuck you.”

“Hm, you already did. What, once isn’t enough for you?” you retort quickly, sneering.

Derek’s eyes widened in response, frantically looking around to see if anyone heard you, then whispered, “Would—Would you be quiet?” He stressed under his breath. “Don’t say that fucking shit out loud, what if somebody heard?”

Last night didn’t really mean to happen. Like the close friends you were, you hung out with Derek at his mansion as you regularly do. However, one thing led to another because of a bottle of pinot noir and the unfortunate appearance of a sex scene in a movie you two watched together. Accordingly, you woke up sore the next morning. You two had established that it was just hooking up, no strings attached—but nobody could know about your arrangement. Not your friends, not your co-workers, and especially not Derek’s mother. While he was known for being promiscuous, the press couldn’t find out that Derek had hooked up with you, not only a good friend of Derek, but someone who was well known in the media due to their wealth.

You roll your eyes carelessly as flashes from last night began to cloud your mind. His fast breaths, his body, his skilled hands. Yet you shook it off easily. “Oh, come on, Derek, these old, ancient fucks can’t hear shit.” An old woman looked at you in disapproval after hearing you swear, walking away from you. “Okay, well, she heard that, but nobody’s gonna know! Don’t get your fuckin’ Louis Vuitton boxers in a twist.”

“They’re not—” he huffs in annoyance. You weren’t taking this seriously, which ultimately frustrated him; your carelessness reminded him too much of himself. “Y/n, who knows what’ll happen if anyone finds out? Like, you know I have to keep my fucking reputation up, and you do too. I don’t think there’s anything Wallace could do if the press found out we hooked up.”

You pause briefly until a smirk creeps up onto your lips in realization. “You regret it, don’t you?”

“No, of course I don’t regret it,” he answers immediately. Not regretting it was clearly an understatement. He really enjoyed last night, every second, every feeling. So he was slightly confused as to why you even doubted him. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just—” you stutter out, “I woke up and you were gone, you know.” You mutter as you took out a cigarette, placing it into your mouth and lighting it.

His mouth went dry and he pursed his lips promptly. “I had to be at Danforth Enterprises,” he says, watching you exhale the smoke from your cigarette.

“Yeah, well, you could’ve sent me a text or written a note,” you shrug. “Like, it’s your house, dude. I was supposed to be the one leaving the morning after, not you.”

“Right, sorry,” he says simply. “Force of habit.” —It was true; he had an infamous history of one-night stands.

“Plus, I’m your best friend,” you reason. “I don’t want this to, like, ruin everything we had. Like, you’re still my buddy to me.”

He looked at you with a slightly amused grin. “Hey, nothing’s gonna change between us, alright? As you said, you’re my best friend, and it’s always gonna stay that way.” You chuckled, offering him a smile as you heard his response. He could be sentimental whenever he wanted. “Look, the day our friendship will ever change is the day I’ll shut down UDG and Nine Star. Which is basically, like, fucking never. Don’t worry about it.” Even as he said the last sentence, this could be interpreted in two different ways. The first one is that he’d never be in some sort of greater relationship with you, likewise his reluctance to stop scamming. The second one, however, implies that if he ever got into something serious with you, a moral obligation will arise, forcing him to shut down his unethical phishing companies just for you. Right. That sounded ridiculous. It was definitely not the latter.

The two of you both took a sip of your drink in unison.

“But, like,” he began, swirling his glass of wine in his hand engagingly, “Is this gonna be, like, a regular thing?”

You raise an eyebrow curiously after taking a sip of your own. “Like, hooking up?” He nods. “I mean… Whatever happens, happens.”

“Uhh, how do you mean?”

“Like, if it was a one-time thing, so be it. But if it’s gonna become regular, then also so be it,” you took a drag of your cigarette. “Doesn’t really matter. We can just, like, do whatever we want. Nothing has to be all predetermined. If we feel like fucking, then we’ll fuck. If not, then great, another day of walking normally.”

“Right,” he says.

You were bored.

So fucking bored.

You dressed all fancy for nothing, you feel. You were obligated to go the same reason Derek had: your wealthy, famous status. But it was so underwhelming and useless, even. As long as you made an appearance, then that should’ve been enough for everybody.

You put out your cigarette and finish your wine, nearly chugging it.

“Hey,” you tap on Derek’s shoulder, making him turn around to look at you after he had been gazing at a potential crypto girl. “Wanna do a quickie in this rich loser’s bathroom?”

He raises an eyebrow in interest.

***

You were held up against the wall of the bathroom, legs wrapped around Derek’s hips as his hands held you by your thighs, pounding his cock in and out of you at a fairly quick pace. Your hands held onto his arms and your chin rested on his shoulder tiredly as the occasional skin slapping against skin sound echoed in the room, hearing Derek grunt with almost every thrust.

You felt slightly uncomfortable and awkward. Like, you weren’t really aroused. It felt… dry? You didn’t know what you meant by that, but the friction was just… unsatisfying. He was grazing your walls in a way that just made it feel like burning, increasing your discomfort. But at least he looked like he was enjoying this. Good for him, you guessed.

This never happened before, so it was sort of… really weird to you, to say the least.

To be honest, you were kind of bored. Like, really bored. How the hell were you still bored? You temporarily escaped an old rich people party to have rigorous sex in their bathroom with your best friend, but you were still bored.

“Shit…” you mutter, disgruntled, as he moved consistently inside you, the burning sensation catching up with you. “What the fuck? Why does—ow—Why the fuck is this hurting?”

Derek pulls his head away from your shoulder and looks at you in concern, his dick still inside of you. “Are you okay? Should I go slower?” He offers, raising an eyebrow as he searched for hesitance in your eyes, then looking you up and down.

“Yeah, sure, okay,” you nodded. “It’s whatever, just—just keep going,” you dismiss in a low murmur. As he starts again at a slower pace, you still had an uncomfortable expression on your face. He was moving his hips but all you felt was mere irritation.

“Okay, what—what the hell?” You groan as you still felt shitty, resulting in Derek stopping his thrusts.

“What’s the issue? Am I still going fast? Should I slow down more?”

“Yeah, uh, probably, yeah,” you say as your head goes back on his shoulder. He proceeds with his movements, his cock sliding in at an even slower pace, stretching your walls more intricately.

“Is this—is this better?” He asks as he moves patiently, steadily moving in and out of your body.

And it wasn’t even a minute in before you would interrupt again.

“Umm… Actually I,” you begin, sighing, “I’m just—I don’t know, I’m not feeling it.”

Derek slides out, still holding you up against the wall by your thighs and raises an eyebrow, looking into your eyes. “Seriously?”

You nod simply.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” He asks, unsure if it was something on his part.

“I don’t know, I’m just not really feeling it,” you reply awkwardly.

“Weren’t you the one who brought it up—”

“I’m not feeling it anymore, dude, I’m sorry!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in surrender.

He puts you down as you put your clothing back on. As you slip your underwear back on, you look at him standing by the same spot by the wall. “Are you still hard?” You ask, raising an eyebrow insightfully.

“Yup,” he shrugs shamelessly.

You sort of felt bad, since you were the one who had the idea of fucking in the bathroom in the first place, making him all riled up.

You sigh softly and you two look at each other in silence. You let out a quiet huff.

“Want me to jerk you off?”

Soon after his release, he put his boxers and pants on leisurely. You were in front of the mirror, trying to fix your hair and clothing, ensuring that you didn’t just come back from a sexual experience in the bathroom.

“Dude, look at how much expensive perfume these jagoffs own,” you chuckle amusedly, looking down at the bathroom sink counter. On the surface were several perfumes of Armani, Burberry, Dolce & Gabbana, as well as a few lotions.

“Hey, don’t—don’t touch those, Y/n.” Too late. You sprayed him with one.

You two grimaced at the scent.

“Well shit, I didn’t even know what I expected,” you cough severely, waving your hand around your nose as you despised the shitty perfume’s smell.

“I told you not to touch them, idiot,” he huffs, buckling his belt as he scowled at the odor.

“Don’t be a dickwad, you totally would’ve been curious enough to try them too,” you scoff, looking through the cabinets of the bathroom mirror and sinks. “Hey, look,” you smirk, throwing a small object at him that you had found.

He caught it involuntarily with his hands and inspected the item: it was a bottle of Viagra. He raised an eyebrow, looking at you and laughed softly. “I am not surprised that these old fucks can’t get it on,” he threw it back at you and you shelved it back in its original place.

You watch him take a hit from his vape and you sigh from boredom. You didn’t want to be in this bathroom any longer, but you definitely didn’t want to be out in the party either.

“Dude, I’m bored,” you whine as he handed you his vape pen.

“‘Sup Bored, I am Derek,” he muttered sarcastically, under his breath. You rolled your eyes and handed him back his vape once you were done with it.

“Can you—can you not?” you mumble exasperatedly in response as he just raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, making his way towards the door, “We’re getting out of here, you can ride with me.”

“Hold on,” you interject quickly. “We should—I mean—I should probably wait a few minutes after you leave the bathroom to get out. You know, so no one will suspect us if we were to, like, walk out of the bathroom together.”

“Right. Yeah. Yeah, you have a point,” he nods.

You had to be careful from now on, realizing that just through the mere plan of leaving the bathroom alternately. This meant you had to be more delicate and thoughtful with every action and word that came from you—and Derek’s—to keep this messy secret.

***

You were laid on the bed beside Derek, one hand tangled in his hair and the other holding an ice cream cone as the bright colors of the TV in front of you nearly blinded your eyes. Your arm was propped up behind Derek’s head in order to play with his hair, feeling the soft curls brushing your palm and fingertips. The two of you looked intensely at the screen as you ate your ice cream in one hand, which was graciously prepared by Derek’s personal chef.

“Dude, Jar Jar Binks was definitely a Sith Lord,” you blurt in a low mutter. Derek turns his head and looks at you in befuddlement.

“What? No. Y/n, no, no, no, do not get started on this again—”

“I’m just saying, dude, that whole ‘goofy idiot’ appearance was hiding the fact that he was a powerful Sith Lord!” You exclaim passionately. “Have you seen his fighting style?”

“Yes, I’ve seen his fighting style, and it looks as if he’s chugged twenty fuckin’ martinis, then atrociously became crossfaded through several, reckless bong rips,” he replied straightforwardly.

You pause briefly as you realized. “Derek, I swear, if that was a reference to that one hangover I had back in December, I swear fucking to god—”

He met you with silence.

You nearly whisper, “Was it?”

The smirk that rose onto his lips told you everything, and you playfully smacked the top of his head since your hand was already there before, tangled in his hair. “Ow,” he muttered, yet his smirk never ceasing. “Look, all I’m saying is that I respect you for that. You are, like, the craziest person I know in the best fucking way possible.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” you mumble, fighting the inevitable curl of your lips that formed a flattered, soft grin. “Okay, anyways, all I’m saying, is that not only was it a tactic to trick his opponents, but he could’ve also been using the force! And how many times has he avoided death?”

“Okay, Y/n, that’s enough, lay off the grass,” he jokes, letting out a low snicker. “How is Jar Jar even relevant? We—we aren’t even watching the prequels, isn’t this The Empire Strikes Back?”

“No, I’m pretty sure we’re watching Return of the Jedi,” you say confidently.

“No, this is—this is definitely Empire Strikes Back,” he refutes, then pauses. “Did we seriously forget?”

“Well, there’s a billion of movies in this franchise, so we’re bound to mix up its titles. Hm, well, it can’t be The Empire Strikes Back, because Return of the Jedi is the one with that sexy Leia outfit,” you reason, shrugging. Derek raises an eyebrow. “Okay, okay, you know what, this isn’t even the point, the point is, that Jar Jar is relevant because it’s fuckin’ Star Wars!”

“Whatever,” Derek rolls his eyes with an amused grin that swiftly transitioned into a mischievous smirk. “You look like Jar Jar,” he mumbles.

You let out a playful, offended gasp. “Oh yeah? You look like Jabba the Hut.”

His head turned directly towards you and let out a exaggerated gasp as well. “Fuck you, you look like Yoda!”

“And you look like that fucking gremlin-looking piece of shit that’s Jabba’s pet!”

“Yeah, well, you look like—”

This continued a little longer until the both of you got too tired, unable to think of any more ugly Star Wars characters to compare each other to—which then resulted in a peaceful truce.

Your fingers proceeded to play with Derek’s curls as you took a bite of your ice cream, then letting your head rest on his shoulder. With this action, however, you suddenly thought about the night before and how things had led up to that event.

“Hey, are there any sex scenes in this?” You ask quietly, feeling his short strands of hair tangle loosely around your fingers.

He scoffs with a slight grin. “It’s a fucking Star Wars movie.”

You two burst out laughing. “Right, right, that’s—you have a point,” you giggle, catching your breath. “Oh, thank god, then.”

“Why? Are you that against having a repeat of last night?” He accuses, attempting to sound more playful, rather than the genuine concern that he felt.

“No, it’s just—” You struggled to think about how you wanted to word it. “I really like this. You know? I’m too tired, I’m very comfy, I…” You nuzzled further into his neck as your head rested on his shoulder. “This is nice. I like this.”

He smiles warmly to himself. “I like this too.”

"Hi," you whispered, earning a small, tired smile from him. “Hey.” Voice quiet, he walked over to the table, looking around, “Do you know where the–” 

“The paperwork?” He nodded, knitting his brows, “I did most of it, the rest is in the first drawer.” A slight wave of shock was evident on his face as he looked your way. “You really didn’t have to..” 

shaking your head, you smiled at his shy tone, “You’ve been working so hard baby. It’s the least I could do.” 

He let out a tired chuckle, slumping beside you on the couch. “God, what did I do to deserve you.” His words made your heart flutter, and even when exhausted, he somehow found a way to look at you with eyes that made you feel like the finest paintings. 

“I missed you” he mumbled, resting his head on your shoulder, relaxing as your hand laced through his loose curls, humming softly, “Missed you too.” The dim lighting and gentle touch did nothing to help his drowsiness, huffing as he felt you move to pick up the remote. “Anything you wanna watch?” 

He sighed, burying his face in your neck, “Whatever you want.” Poor boy, he was completely drained. You clicked through the channels before deciding on something you hoped would be interesting. 

Mike moved his head slightly, eyes on the screen, but his thoughts were on you. Everything about you drove him crazy. That soft voice of yours and even softer touch occupied his mind every day, craving you more than anything he’d ever tasted. The only thing he could think about was those desperate sounds that spewed from your pretty lips when he went down on you. 

“Mike?” Slipping from his thoughts, he shifted against you. “Hm?” God. His voice drove you insane. “We don’t have to watch anything—I mean you seem really tired.” He shook his head, breathing in your sweet scent. “Mm…I jus’ wanna be with you.” Words slurring from exhaustion, he lost himself in your presence. You nod, trying to drown yourself in the movie, though, it threatened to put you to sleep with its nonexistent plot. 

Your attempts to focus were interrupted by that familiar touch, Mike's hands caressing the dip of your waist, “What are you–” Cutting off with a sharp inhale, you felt his fingers slip under your shirt.

You bit back a sigh as his body moved closer. "Missed you so fucking much," he groaned softly, trailing kisses across your jaw. The tone in his voice was so much more desperate than before, hands teasing your hot skin with his fingertips. "Mike..." you sighed, "we can't—" He touched you with such care, dragging his fingers down to your hips, but you knew you had work in the morning. Any longer with him touching you like this, and you'd be up all night. "Focus on the movie baby," he mouthed against your neck. 

You tried to protest, but your jaw went slack before you could even speak as he found that sweet spot against your skin.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Hardly processing what he was saying, your body melted at his touch. "You don't know how badly I've been wanting to do this." His words clouded your mind, making it hard to think about anything other than him. It was like he was a different person from when he first got home, his sweet nothings only making you want more.  “I thought you were tired.” Your breathy whisper made his mind spiral.

“Never too tired for you.” 

Inhaling deeply, you tried to keep your eyes on the screen, but no matter where you looked, your mind drifted to him and his touch. Struggling to focus, his hands glided down to your thighs, that feeling of his fingertips dancing on your bare skin making you dizzy before they slipped under your shorts. "Please," you whined. 

"Mike, please—" Your desperation was mesmerizing as he drank in your soft begs, that intoxicating scent of your perfume flooding his senses. 

"Please what?" Desire wrapped around him, "C'mon, baby, tell me what you want." His words were soft, silently begging to hear your lovesick voice. 

You bit back a shy moan, "Touch me…Please." 

Head spinning at the sound of yourself, Mike's breath hitched at your plea, slipping his fingers under your panties. You tipped your head back at the fuzzy feeling of him tracing your clit in slow circles. "Fuck..” he groaned, dipping a finger inside of you, “Look how wet you are." 

He admired your parted mouth struggling to stay quiet and knitted brows before slipping another finger into you, the gentle stretch making your mind go numb. 

 "God, you sound so pretty," he moaned, sinking his fingers deeper, “Come on... let me hear you." 

You had no choice but to let go, drowning him in your soft, involuntary sounds as his fingers curled against that perfect spot you so desperately craved.

You tried, you really did, but you just couldn’t focus on the screen when his fingers were pumping in and out of you, hitting those places that you could never reach.

"I—I can't," you whimpered, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach, you squirmed at the feeling, desperately moving your hips for more friction. He pulled his fingers out right before you could reach the edge, leaving you breathless. You couldn’t even speak, inhaling sharply as he moved off the couch and down to the floor in front of you. Tugging at the waistband of your shorts, your hips stuttered before allowing him to slip them down. 

Legs closing at the sudden exposure, you looked down at him nervously.

"Keep your legs spread f’me," his voice laced with desire and desperation as he gazed up at you. He looked so pretty on his knees like this, that sleepy look filled with a drunken gaze, high off of your body.  Shyly complying, you kept your eyes glued to the man in front of you, hooking his arms under your thighs, hands gripping your hips to keep you still. “Yeah, There you go..” Heart beating faster from the praise whispered into your skin, you couldn't help but bite back a whimper.

That soft sound melted into a moan as his tongue teased you, pressing your hips up against him, you quietly begged for more. Your eyes met his as you looked down, tugging at his hair, and sighing as his tongue finally pressed down on your clit. It was so hard to pay attention to anything else when he was making the sweetest noises you’ve ever heard; that pussy drunk expression driving you insane.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groaned, blissed out and addicted from the way you tasted. He savored every sound that fell from your pretty lips, slipping his fingers back into you. A whine fell from him as you tugged on his hair once more, brain dizzy from losing yourself in pleasure. Consumed by a trance-like state, you desperately tried to control the moans spilling from your lips as he curled his fingers inside of you.

“Please" he whined breathlessly, the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you was addicting. "Cum for me.”

That perfect movement of his tongue working against your cunt had you seeing stars as his name fell from your lips, and fuck, it sounded even better when you were moaning it. The coil in your stomach threatened to snap as his fingers moved faster, eyes shut in pure pleasure. 

"Mikey," you whined, tipping your head back, "Please... I'm–" A broken moan escaped your lips as his fingers buried deep inside of you, desperate for more of those beautiful sounds.

Breathy whimpers spilled from your mouth as you teetered on the edge, finally finishing with the prettiest noise Mike swore he had ever heard. That tired gaze in your eyes made him melt, legs trembling as his fingers slipped from your aching core. He moved his head up to your flushed state, hands roaming across your body as he pressed his lips against yours so desperately; soft, needy moans muffling into the kiss. Slowly slipping his tongue into your mouth, the sweet taste of yourself on him left you weak in the knees.

I didn't mind Mike when I met him, you know.

He's quiet. Shy. Keeps to himself. Those traits should make for a good roommate. If he'd kept his mess confined to his room, maybe the music that he blares just a little too loudly wouldn't be so headache inducing.

My fingers rap on the thin door, demanding his attention which is never given to me unless I make a production out of it. We both know that.

"Michael," I say.

Silence.

"Mike."

Nothing.

I open the door and there he is, peacefully asleep on his bed as the bass shakes the water in his glass. I sigh and click off the stereo, then turn to leave. It's incredible how quickly I hear him shift on the bed, scrambling to stand.

"The fuck?" He croaks, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"Your music was blaring. I already heard it from Mrs. Jones upstairs about you waking her kid up, I'm not dealing with that again," I say raising my hands up in the air defensively.

"I don't sleep well," he says.

"Neither does the baby," I say.

Mike rolls his eyes, turning the music back on and turning his back to me.

"Michael-"

"Don't call me that," he interrupts.

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Schmidt, can you at least turn it down? I'm asking nicely," I say. He stands there for a moment and though I can't see his face, I know he's thinking.

Finally, with a sigh he says "Fine, princess."

"Don't call me that," I say. I hear a small huff of laughter from him and he turns to look at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with false sympathy.

"It's a simple request," I say. My eyes narrow at him in irritation.

"Which one?"

"Both."

We stand there for a moment, both of us sizing the other up, taking each other in.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

With the agreement having been made, I turn to leave, shutting the door behind me.

Year long lease. Joy.

-Tuesday-

"Hurry up!" Yells Mike, pounding on the bathroom door.

"I'm fucken hurrying!" I yell back, my hands working as fast as they can to wash off my body. Late alarm, fever dreams causing me to wake in a pool of stinking sweat, and one bathroom make for a horrendous cocktail of repeated 'fuck you's through the cheap door.

"I'm gonna be late!" Mike yells.

"So am I, I'm sorry!"

There's a moment of long silence and I think maybe Mike has finally found a spot of pity, realizing that maybe we aren't enemies but simply humans who unfortunately have to coexist in this world together. Then the water turns freezing, and I realize I hate him.

"Michael!" I practically scream. Traces of soap still reside on my body, but the cold and my alarm both force me out. Angered and not thinking clearly, I wrap the towel around my dripping waist and swing the door open.

"Are you fucking happy?" I sneer, face inches from his.

His expression is initially satisfied, but as his eyes flicker downwards he and I both realize my mistake. His eyes widen, lingering for a moment on my bare chest as he processed what he was seeing, then returning to meet my glare.

"What?" I ask sharply. "You've never seen a pair before?"

He stammers. "I-I have."

"Don't act like it," I say. "Take a fucken photo, be the only pair you'll probably ever see in your life, dicksmack."

As though he remembers himself, his eyes narrow. "Move, princess."

I slam past him, walking quickly towards my room and slamming the door behind me.

"Don't wake the baby!" Mike mocks down the hall.

Oh, motherfucker. It is on.

-Wednesday-

It's hard to break a lease. It's harder when nothing as cheap exists in the area. This is a problem for both Mike and I. I know it's true for him because apparently even his bills are too troublesome to keep on the floor of his room. But despite his mess, it's him that comes barreling down the hall, bursting into my room with no warning.

"Jesus, Michael!" I start, spinning around in my chair. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"Have you ever heard of washing a dish?" He sneers. "It's not hard. My baby sister could do it."

"Oh, is she available? I'd love to see how she'd handle your laundry situation," I retort.

"Why is it impossible for you to actually wash something? You'll put water in it, let it soak. I respect that, but then you never come back to it. Do you enjoy flies? I think you enjoy flies," he says with hate dripping off of his words. I roll my eyes, but he's not entirely wrong either.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll do the dishes. Sorry."

"See? Look at how hard that was, princess." He begins to turn away.

"Will you quit fucking calling me that?" I snap.

"I'm following our bargin. You're the one who slips first, princess," he says while laughing, raising his hands in defense.

A long moment passes, neither of us willing to back down.

"Do the dishes yourself," I say finally, turning back to the computer.

"Not my mess," he says.

"Too bad. I'm too delicate," I say with a faux breathiness to my voice. The door slams behind him, which has me instantly rising from my chair to race after him.

"Don't slam my door!" I say.

"You did it the other day!" He says, spinning around to face me and almost slipping on one of his shirts littering the hall. I can't help but smile at that.

"Problems?" I ask.

"Yeah, they exist in whatever demon spawned you," he hisses. His eyes catch on something though, narrowing as he leans slightly closer. "The fuck is on your neck?" He asks.

"The fuck you mean 'the fuck is on my neck?'" I ask.

"I mean you've got something on your neck," he says.

"No I don't," I say. "Move." I shove past him to enter the bathroom beside us, flicking on the light and feeling my irritation rise as he reaches to do the same thing simultaneously.

"See?" He says, pointing at a small, dark mark on my neck.

Fuck.

"I don't fucken know what that is," I lie, covering it with my hand.

"You liar, that's a hickey!" He says still pointing at it.

"Is not!"

"Is too. What, are you fucking some high-schooler?" He scoffs.

"Adults leave hickies too, Mike. It can be enjoyable. You'd know this if someone ever wanted to fuck you," I spit back.

"Who on earth would enjoy having sex with you?" He asks. "The only loads you leave attract flies I don't want to have to deal with come summer."

My jaw drops in shock.

"And the only loads you leave smell like menthols and depression!" I retort.

Staring. Always staring with this guy. Jaws clentched, eyes narrowed.

"Just don't bring this guy around here," he finally says. His voice is quieter but the edge is still there.

I blink. "What?"

"You heard me," he says. "I don't need to hear your shrill voice like that."

Am I imagining things or is he blushing? No, I'm definitely imagining things. It's the florescents.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I taunt. The fuck kind of response was that?

His eyes widen slightly. "No," he says a little too quickly.

"What, you get one look at my tits and now you're thinking about that degenerate shit?" I press, stepping closer.

"I don't- this-" He's blundering. I've got him now, I've found his weak spot.

Without a word, I slip out of the bathroom and return to my room, shutting the door and beginning a plan that will guarantee I won't have to worry about being the roommate that breaks lease and looks for a new apartment.

-Thursday-

"Are you close, baby?" The sweet voice on the phone asks me. The battery on my toy is flashing, showing one of us needs to finish soon. And while I like Nick, there was just something lacking in him that kept me on this irritating edge, hiding my release from me.

"I'm close," I confirm, switching hands to try and hit a new angle. The video on the computer is doing nothing to help with this at all, and I'm so bored I'm tempted to just fake it and seal the deal.

The plan was simple. Establish dominance over my roommate via fucking a guy I'd met at some party the week before. Nick was an easy target, too busy thinking with his dick to question why I was suddenly insistent on him coming over. And to guarantee his presence at the apartment, I would have to put in work. Not that I wasn't fully uninterested. He was alright, I was single. Beneficial for everyone involved.

The vibrator finally found that sweet spot, the one that made me cry out softly into the receiver as my wrist pumped with newfound vigor.

"Close," I told Nick. "Isn't as good as you though."

Nick chuckles softly. "You're sweet," he says. Then he's prattling sweet praises, whimpering into the phone breathily along with me as I finally begin to tip over the edge, moaning loudly and clearly. It's my luck that Mike should be at work at this moment.

Should be.

Wasn't.

The door opens as Mike walks in, his mind obviously focused on something else but immediately taken aback at the sight of me sprawled upon the bed, legs open, toy in hand, Nick on phone, porn on computer. Shit.

"Jesus!" Mike shouts. "It's the middle of the day!"

"Get the fuck out!" I shout back, my voice less vicious than I'd like given that I was mid-ruined orgasm. Mike covers his eyes, trying to stumble out of the door without looking, muttering a dozen apologies a second before finally reaching and slamming the door shut behind him.

Nick and I are both silent for a long while, neither of us sure what to say.

"So... I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask finally.

"...yeah." He says. And with the click of my phone, the plan is solidified.

-

I don't see Mike that evening until about three hours later when he finally emerges from his room with pink cheeks and clothed in a large hoodie he seems to wish would swallow him whole.

"Hey," I say to him. I chew on my cheap food slowly, flipping through my novel at the cluttered table.

"Hi," he says quietly, not really making eye contact with me. He crosses to the cabinets, taking out a glass and filling it with water. We listen to the tap for a moment before I finally say "I didn't mean for you to see that."

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "I got that."

More silence. The tap shuts off and he leans against the sink, taking a long sip.

"So... hickey guy?" He finally asks. And I can't help the snort that escapes me.

"Nick," I say.

"And he's...?" Mike is testing the waters, that much is obvious.

"Canadian," I say.

Mike nods. Sip. Silence.

"Nick, from Canada," he says slowly.

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p.'

Mike looks at his drink in thought.

"So you're into Canadians," he finally says. I think for a moment.

"No," I say. I mark my book and close it. "Just bored."

"Just bored?" Mike asks.

"Just bored," I confirm.

Sip. Silence. Thinking.

"You... do that regularly?" He asks.

"I mean... I like sex," I say.

His cheeks redden at that, and he takes another sip as though to hide that.

"He's coming over tomorrow," I say casually. Mike's eyes dart to mine, dark and wide.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Another sip. He finishes his glass.

"Should I find plans for tomorrow?" He asks finally.

"No," I say a bit too quickly. Both of our cheeks redden at that. "I mean, we won't... shouldn't...." I don't know what I mean.

Mike stares at me thoughtfully for a moment then looks back to the glass in his hand.

"You're pretty loud, princess," he finally says quietly.

There's a new tension in the air. One that isn't brought on by hate or dirty dishes. One that I don't mind strangely.

"You could join us, if you'd like," I offer. Mike's grip on the glass tightens so suddenly I'm almost surprised it doesn't burst.

"I- I'm pretty sure I'd get in the way," he stammers. Then his eyes darken, a strange look in them. "Besides, I don't like being a whore."

This comment stings. Deeply.

"I'm not a whore," I say defensively.

"Oh?" Mike asks.

"He's the only guy I've fucked in months, so yeah," I say.

"Oh, is that why I hear you moaning late at night all the fucking time?" Mike says. "Seriously, you're fucking loud."

"And you're a fucking virgin," I snap.

"Says who?" He asks.

"Forget it," I say. I gather my things and rise from my chair. "Don't fucking talk to me."

"Fine," he scoffs. "I'll wash this dish too, princess," he calls after me.

I spin around. "You would be so much more fuckable if you were easy to swallow," I snapped, stomping my foot like a child.

Both of us stare at each other in a bit of shock at what I just said.

"Most girls swallow just fine, thank you," he retorts.

"Who's the whore now?" I say. I don't wait for him to respond, slamming the door shut behind me.

Fine. Let him hate me. That's the whole point of this anyways. Then it'll be me and someone else in this terrible fucking apartment. Maybe it'll be Nick. Anyone would be better, I tell myself.

...

...how easy is Mike to swallow?

-Friday-

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling to remember the correct name right now.

Nick is underneath me, pumping his cock in and out like no tomorrow as I grind against him. My jaw is slack, my hands buried in the blankets fabric underneath of us. I'm staring at the thin door though, the thin door that I know leaks every little noise whether there's a towel under the enormous crack or not. And the shadows of footsteps that I see make it all the easier for Nick to continue his shallow rhythm, edging me closer and closer.

"Mi-Nick," I moan loudly. It sounds endearing, thankfully. But my heart races at how close I've come to fucking things up in a few different ways. "Fuck, you're thick," I moan. It's not particularly true, but his size is fine, so what's an ego boost to help him along the way?

Nick is sweet underneath of me, moaning that I'm his, that we're each others. That's great and all, but God. There is this missing edge. And it isn't until I hear pounding on the bedroom door that I finally feel real excitement begin to flow through me.

"We need to talk," Mike's voice says firmly.

Nick looks guilty, his eyes wide and asking for silent guidance. I don't respond, simply continuing to slide up and down Nick's cock and moaning while doing so.

"Hey, princess," Mike says firmer, pounding on the door again. "Think you can stop Oh-ing Canada and come talk to me like a fucking adult?"

I don't stop, grinding harder against Nick's base. My hands find my clit, rubbing it as I respond.

"I told you you were welcome to join us," I moan. Nick looks at me like I've gone utterly insane, and maybe I have. Maybe I'm completely delusional about all of this, but I couldn't care less as I feel my dripping cunt tighten to the point even Nick doesn't care what happens so long as he comes inside of me.

"Mi-Nick," I moan. "Mi-ne, mi-ne." Come on, Schmidt. Catch the fucking hint.

All night I had been plauged with dreams about Michael fucking Schmidt. I'd noticed when we met he was attractive to me. I liked his hands, his stubble. God, his shoulders made me think things that will probably send me straight to Hell. But hate usually kept these thoughts at bay. Last night however, the dreams wouldn't stop coming. Over and over, a new fantasy of him emerged in my head. Him underneath of me as a writing mess, him begging for more, my tits in his mouth as he finished inside me. It was depraved. I wanted it.

The door bursts open just as Nick is finishing inside of me. It's the look in Mike's eyes that causes me to finish, all while keeping eye contact with him as well.

Nick is quick to flip me on my back, covering my body haphazardly with a blanket prattling excuse after excuse. Apparently we're sorry. Apparently we had gotten too wrapped up in the moment because apparently, you know how it is, right man?

But it doesn't matter. Mike isn't looking at Nick, who's pulling on his shirt above me. Mike's looking at me, watching my fingers that trail gently along my areolas, flicking lightly at my hardened nipples and clearly longing for more.

"Mike wouldn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman," I say with little thought.

"Oh?" Both of them ask me.

"I think you should leave, Nick. Mike and I are going to have a little talk, and I don't want you to see how ugly this may get," I say without breaking eye contact with Mike.

The sudden shift in the air is not subtle, so maybe that's why Nick doesn't really hesitate to listen to me.

"I'll call you later," he says as he stumbles past Mike.

"Don't bother," Mike calls after him. Mike slams the bedroom door shut, locking it before turning to me and raising an eyebrow.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Mike asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as his stands tall.

My hand dips to between my thighs where Nick and I's cum pools out, coating me in the thick stuff.

"Sorry," I say in a spoiled tone, smiling.

Mike's eyes scan my entire body. From the hickies coating my neck, to my breasts and even my thighs, I can see a new wave of anger washes over him. At least, it looks like anger. There's something else mixed with it too, something I desperately want to play with.

"You're not sorry for shit," he says. He's correct.

"I told you last night, I like fucking people," I say as my fingers circle my clit.

Mike's jaw tightens. "You like fucking people," he repeats.

I can see him grind his teeth. He's silent for another moment. "And do you like... him?"

I giggle. "You tell me," I say with a soft and low voice.

His eyebrows twitch. "You're still... going?" He asks with an unsure edge to his voice.

"Yes, Michael. This is what a woman looks like when she's turned on," I say in a mocking tone, batting my lashes as my fingers dip into my entrance. "Would you like to try?"

He steps closer, bending down ever so slightly to stand over me.

"Don't call me that," he says in a low growl.

"Make me," I taunt.

He blinks.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

A startled yelp escapes me as Mike grabs my hips, dragging me roughly to the edge of the bed. He spreads my legs, stepping between them and slips his rough thumb inside of me with no hesitation.

"Fuck. You do like him," he groans, his other hand fiddling with his belt. I can see how hard he is underneath his jeans, his fingers clumsy but working quickly at the items covering him.

"He's oka-ay," I say quickly, my voice trailing off into a soft moan. His thumb explores the inside of my cunt, probing the wet muscle and massaging inside of me spots a man had never taken time to look for before. "Your finger's thick," I moan.

Mike chuckles, freeing himself and pumping into his hand slowly as he presses his thumb deeper inside of me.

"You told Nick he was thick too," he says. "That just your line with guys?"

It is, but this time I actually mean it. So I shake my head. "No," I say quietly.

"I don't believe you," Mike says. He slips his thumb out of me, making me clench around nothing. I open my mouth to protest only for Mike to quickly shove his thumb into my mouth, touching the back of my throat while he sinks his cock into me.

"Go on, pretty girl," he moans. "Take it like the proud whore you are."

I gag around his thumb, both from the sudden intrusion and from the taste. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like this, if I said that his actions didn't make me even more wet and that I didn't suck his thumb greedily, wrapping my tongue around it and sucking it clean until I can only taste his rough flesh. I swear it makes his dick twitch.

His cock slides in and out of me with ease, taking his time to feel how I wrap around him.

"Fuck," he drawls. "It's been awhile."

I moan around his thumb, running my tongue along the underside and trying to rock my hips against him to tell him to speed up. Instead, he presses a hand down on my lower stomach, pinning me down as he sinks in fully. At first glance his size is average, but inside of me it's overstimulating how he fills me just a little too much.

His thumb presses further into my throat, making me gag as he tilts his head back in pleasure.

"You are just demanding. Do you know that?" He asks. I try to respond, but he simply presses his thumb against a spot that makes me gag once more.

"Nothing's good enough for you. Not even Nick. You didn't even cum until I came in here," he laughed cruelly, looking down at where we connect. His other thumb trails down to rub my clit slowly, making me writhe underneath him and clench around his still cock.

"Never shutting up. Till now. I like it when you're quiet, princess. Makes you easier to swallow." He presses deeper inside of me, making me whine in overstimulation.

"You're mine now," he says, slowly pulling out. "You can call Nick all you want. Call him, fuck him. But we both know he's not gonna make you cum like I will." Just his tip remains in me, barely staying in before he slams back into me so hard I scream.

"So what's the point?" Mike asks, slowly slipping out once more. "Do you like pitting men against each other like that?" He slams back into me. My eyes water, but I don't protest.

This time when he pulls back, he stays there. I wait for him, trying to he patient. But then he removes his thumb and wraps his hand around his length instead.

"What?" I ask, my voice raw.

"Say it," Mike says as he jerks himself off slowly.

"Say what?" I ask.

"I'm not gonna fuck you like you want unless you say you're mine," he says casually. His tip is bright red and leaking precum, his length coated in Nick and I's milky cum.

"Fuck you," I say. Mike just laughs.

"You're the one laying here crying over some dick," he taunts. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page here, princess."

I try to hold strong, I really do. It'd be more fun if I did. But fuck. The way he stands over me, his shoulders broad. I could never deny I liked the sight of his hands either, and seeing them tug as his pulsing cock while he stared down at me with that stupid fucking smile?

It's not fair.

"I'm yours," I say quietly.

"Hmm?" Mike asks, pumping his dick quicker now. I can see how hard his veins are, and the sounds of him fucking his own hand make me want him more.

"Yours," I repeat slightly louder.

"Use proper English," he says. His face has this stupid blissful look on it, his mouth slightly open as he pants, fucking himself and watching me as he does.

"I am yours," I hiss through gritted teeth. It doesn't even take a full second before he's buried in me once more, his hands pinning my knees to my shoulders and fucking me with enough speed I'm genuinely scared he'll hurt me. And I love it.

"I'm going to make you mine," he grins, his voice suddenly turning feral.

"I'm going to make you mine so much that you won't even be able to remember what Nick's name is, let alone what he looks like. Or what he feels like."

"Uh huh," I whine. My voice is so unusually high and ragged, my mouth slack and eyes rolling back in pleasure. I rock against his hips, trying to find my second edge. I'm babbling, whether I'm asking for mercy or more is anyone's guess.

He laughs at me, and it's a harsh and cruel laugh - not at all like the usual sarcasm and mockery he displays. Instead, his laugh comes from a place that is raw and angry and vicious, the kind of laugh a wolf makes when he's about to go for the kill.

"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Not quite the big, bad man that he's made you think he was, is he? How disappointing," he continues, his hips thrusting into me repeatedly.

I cry loudly with each new thrust. His movements are cruel, borderline abusive. Christ, I love it.

"Bigger," I whine. "Bigger."

He teeth nip at my throat, sinking in hard enough I'll be wearing sweaters and scarves for weeks. Makeup won't touch the color.

"Bigger?" He asks in a mocking voice. "What's bigger?"

"You're bigger," I moan. My voice is broken, and there's no way the neighbors don't hear the degeneracy occurring around them. Sorry, Mrs. Jones.

"What are you going for?" he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing more and more vicious. "Big bad Mike?" he giggles, his grip tightening on my ankles as he continues plunging into me.

A loud scream escapes me as Mike finds my g spot. He doesn't relent, focusing on the spot and abusing it while I sob and try to wiggle away, completely overstimulated from pleasure and unable to handle it.

His hands pin me against him, trapping me where I am and forcing me to take him however he wants me to.

"You want more?" he asks, taking one hand away from my ankles, grabbing and pulling my hair harshly, forcing me to stare into his eyes. His pupils are so blown out I can't even see his pretty hazel irises. They're dark and predatory, his breath hot and heavy with rage.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, pulling back and plunging into my aching cunt again.

"Yes!" It's a violent scream that escapes me, feeling myself begin to tip over the edge. His eyes sparkle, his lips in a smile that shows he knows he's won.

"And what would Nick say if he could see you like this? All mine, all mine..." he taunts.

"Huh?" I'm completely stupid, my body coming undone so suddenly around his dick with cries, screams, whimpers and everything inbetween. Nick was foreplay and I've no mental energy to remember any detail that isn't Mike's.

"Don't even know his name?" Mike laughs. "You can't even remember his name, can you?" he grins, his eyes narrow again as he tugs my hair and shoves himself in further.

"Uh uh," I pant in a high voice. My body shakes terribly, his pounding length already edging me once more as he continues abusing my spot. How on earth am I supposed to walk after this?

"Then let me help you remember his name," he says. "Say his name."

"Mike," I moan pathetically. I'm right back on that edge, crying and feeling as though I'll burst from overstimulation.

"Louder," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Say it louder. Say his name loud enough for him to hear you."

"Mike!" I scream it religiously as I come undone a second time, gripping him to the point I can feel how close he is too. I hear him laugh above me, his other hand now wrapping around my throat and choking me slightly.

"That's my name," he says with mocking gentleness. "Say his name or I won't finish."

"I don't remember," I sob. Jesus Christ, do I have problems? "Just want you!"

His face glows, his lips split into a wide grin of satisfaction.

"So you want me, do you, princess?"

I nod pathetically. He's throbbing, slamming into me hard enough it may draw a third climax in a row.

His laugh is cruel above me, his lips landing on top of mine in a wet, possessive kiss. His tongue fills my mouth, forcing me to take him as the sounds of him fucking me like a depraved animal makes me whine in desperation.

He pulls away, a long string of spit between us connecting our lips.

"Then I'll give you what you want, princess," he says. "But there's a price."

"Uh huh," I agree. My eyes roll back as my body twitches, barely able to focus as he thrusts into me.

"Look at me," he says patiently, tugging my hair once more. When I manage to remember how, he let's out a long 'aw,' smiling down at me with false sweetness as I stare dumbly into his eyes. I suppose I'm staring into his eyes. God, I'm stupid.

His thumb grazes my jaw, tutting as he examines my face closely.

"Your eyes are pretty...*" he says, his voice sweet and tender, almost like I've made him soft and vulnerable, but his cock pounding into me causes the beginning of a headache that won't let me forget how much we hate each other. "Your eyes are pretty, your mouth is pretty..."

I lick my lips and nod lightly.

"You are just such a pretty girl, aren't you?" He asks. I nod, my body twitching uselessly as my third climax washes over me.

"Good girl," he praises. "All fucked out over me. That's good."

Suddenly and without warning, he pulls out quickly and shoves my face down close to his cock, coming all over my face. It's thick and everywhere. In my hair, my mouth. I can't even open my eyes.

"Stay like that," Mike commands as he lays me on my back. His softening cock reenters me and pumps lazily, his purpose to make sure he's fully emptied.

"Any new thoughts?" He asks me in a strange tone, light and amused. I simply moan, relishing the moment. He chuckles and spreads my legs so he can better see what is happening between us. It isn't until I hear the chime of his camera confirming a recording that I realize what he's done.

"Mike?" I ask, barely able to think straight.

A low laugh escapes him, cruel but warm.

"I want to show your new boyfriend the real you," he says. "Make sure we're all on the same page here, right?

...Fuck me, I have problems.

-

Thanks for reading, pookies. See y'all in hell.

“Come on Billy, I don't think this is a good idea,” you mumbled as he parked outside of what seemed like an abandoned gas station. The night was cold, an eerie tone filled the air as rain sprinkled down from the cloud-ridden sky. Billy turned to you, setting his jaw in place.

“Y/N, you know the shit I’m in? You said you would do this with me, why are you backing out now?”

“I just…” you hesitated for a moment, thinking before you spoke next. “I just think we may be… Lowballing it with a gas station that looks abandoned.” His face lit up from headlights of a car pulling into the closest gas pump. His eyes showed an emotion you weren’t able to quite put your finger on. You out your hand on his cheek, running your thumb along his cheek bone. “I love you, Billy, but this is fucking stupid. Why can’t we just get out of here, run away and forget about those stupid bikers?” He turned his head away from your touch, a visible frustration setting into his expression. 

“You… You don’t get it, y/n. They’ll kill me if I dont get them that money, you fucking understand that right?” He stared at the front doors of the gas station. “I can’t not do this,” he turned his head to look at you. You stared back into his eyes, wavering concern covering your face. He shook his head. “y/n-”

“Billy, I can’t do this. I think we should just drive and start over-” 

“No, y/n, no!” he shouted, hitting the steering wheel. You jumped, his eyes darting toward you, seeing the obvious discomfort that him shouting gave you. “Jesus, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He grumbled.

You hesitantly lean over the seat, pulling his chin to look at you. “Let me,” you mumble, bringing him closer, your lips grazing against his as you spoke. “Let me help you out there, Billy, maybe clear your mind a little?” You felt him shift in his seat, sighing against your lips before you pressed yours against his. Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling of his hand resting on the back of your head taking you by surprise. His tongue pushed into your mouth, you groaning at the sensation. He deepened the kiss, pulling you closer to him, his breathing becoming more erratic as the seconds passed. You groaned as his free hand groped over your tits, the heat filling your core with arousal. 

“Get in the back,” he growled. “Now.” You didn’t hesitate, stumbling over the center console and falling onto the back seat. You giggled as he followed suit, landing on top of you, crashing his lips into yours again. His mouth parted slightly, giving you the chance to push your tongue into his mouth, making him groan against you. He pulled you down to where your back was laying against the back seat. “I need,” he panted, fumbling with your jeans. “Need to get this shit off.” You bit your lip as you watched him unzip your jeans, swiftly slipping them off. He looked at you with a hungry expression. You smirked, opening your legs wider for him. “I can see,” he mumbled as he got lower down, his hot breath touching your core. You shuddered as he hooked his finger around your panties, pulling them to the side. “I can see how wet you already are.” His tongue attached to your clit, a low groan escaping his lips. Your back arched as he moved his tongue into your opening, tongue-fucking you. You grabbed his hair, tugging at it softly. A soft moan escaped your lips as you leaned your head back, bumping against the door. 

“Fuck, Billy,” you managed out. His actions became quicker. He grabbed at your thighs, running his nails down them. You moaned, pushing himself onto as much as you could, pushing your thighs against the side of his head. You felt the heat building in your lower belly as Billy attached his tongue to your clit again, relentlessly sucking and nipping on it. His hands grabbed at your hips, borderline suffocating himself as he pushed you further onto his face. He pressed his lips against your clit, sending you over the edge, your body jolting as waves of pleasure ripped from you. Billy did not wait long before sitting up in the seat, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down enough for him to take his cock out, spitting on his hand and stroking himself a couple times before pulling you onto him. His grip on your hips tightened as he pushed into you, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. A hit of frustration hit your mind at the lack of being able to see him, not to mention sucking his dick. You moan as he stretched you out, your head falling onto his shoulder. He began to rock your hips against him. Tremors of pleasure ran through you with the friction of your clit rubbing on his pubic bone. 

“Fucking so wet for me,” Billy mumbled into your ear. “You know just how to take care of me when I get worked up, huh?” He was breathless, but did not stop his own movements of pushing his hips up onto you. You whined at the aggression that was hidden in his movements, but fuck you loved seeing this side of him. He removed a hand from your hip, bringing it up to hair, pulling you back to you could look at him. His nose and cheeks were a shade of red and his mouth was slightly open. “Look at you, all fucked out already and I haven’t even gotten to cum.” You began to speed up your movements, making him suck in a breath of air before letting out a loud groan as he leaned his head back onto the seat. 

“B-Billy-” you moaned out. His movements were sloppy as he trailed sloppy kisses down your neck. 

“Y/n, oh fuck y/n youre so fucking good,” he breathed out. “You take my cock so fucking well, such a good fucking girl.” Heat rose up in you again as you felt his dick twitch inside you, telling you he was close too. He pulled your head back by your hair as you grinded on him, attaching his lips to your neck and sucking at a sensitive spot that send you over the edge. You didnt get much chance to ride your orgasm out before he pushed you off of him. “Fuck,” he groaned, grabbing his cock squeezing it. “Put that pretty mouth of yours to use, now wouldja?” You contorted your body to where you were holding onto him. He grabbed your hair, turning it into a makeshift ponytail, pushing you down onto him. He threw his head back as he stuffed your mouth, thrusting up into you, abusing your throat. You groaned onto him, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. He was so fucking big, but you liked the rough treatment he had with you. Without warning, he held you down onto his cock, the tip pushing against your throat making you gag. He groaned, body confusing as you felt him cum. You took it all, not wanting any to escape your mouth. You pulled off of him, gasping for air. He grabbed your face in his hands, looking you over for a moment. He wiped the tears that fell from your eyes. “Was that too much?” His aggression had turned to concern in an instant. You shook your head, getting your breathing back to mostly normal. 

“H-hot,” you managed out. He smiled, grabbing your jeans off the floor of the back seat, helping you back into them before planting a kiss on your forehead. You watched him pull his jeans back up, buttoning them before reaching into the front seat and grabbing his backpack. 

“Are you ready?” He smiled, clearly less stressed than he was before. 

“You are positive that this is going to be okay?” He reached into the bag, pulling out a gun and tossing it over to you. You looked at him, eyes wide. “What the fuck is this, Billy?”

“It’s not loaded, don't worry. If they feel threatened, they are more likely to comply. You groan, stepping out of the car and tucking the gun into the back of your jeans. You threw your jacket on, thankfully covering the bulk of the gun. You shook your head, looking at Billy over the hood of his car. 

“You are literally so stupid for this, you know.” 

“It’s life or death.”

“Or 5 years in prison.”

“Well, I guess.” He shrugged, shutting the car door and walking behind the car, planting a kiss on your cheek when he approached you. “Ready?”