minor spelling mistake

once charles 'recruited' him, he was yours to handle.

it was simple really, you gave him his targets, you ran the odd psychological test when he was particularly unstable (he was always cleared for duty!) and you were basically the only number in his burner phone.

you didn't realize he was so... attached to you until you realized he was watching you, stalking you. he was on top of another building,

he wasn't even supposed to know your real name.

but he found that out after he followed you home, found your real number too.

you were a trained agent, you did less real field work now, but that did not make you less perceptive.

a trinket dish shifted to the left, away from the edge, more center on the end table.

like it was bothering him when he was here, in your apartment, while you were at the store. it bothered him how close it was to the edge and just how off-putting he found your all your off-center decor. he just had to fix it.

your gaze shifted to the expansive window of your living room, walking closer, squinting enough to see him on the fire escape of the building across the street.

he waved.

you scoffed.

you picked the phone out of your pocket, calling him. he took his time to answer.

"benjamin? honey... i see you." honey. baby. sweetheart. you called him all that stupid shit becuse you knew he liked it, but it was more about putting on the persona of someone who gave a shit. which you think he liked. or maybe he didn't. "i really think we need to talk about boundaries."

"boundaries?" the audio from the flip-phone made it sound like it was being put through a blender, but his voice still sounded so good. "you say that like i crossed one."

"baby, breaking into my place feels pretty textbook," you responded, faux sweetness dripping from your voice.

"you looked stressed last month, when we met, i wanted to know why."

a sinking feeling, a month, how the fuck did you not notice that? maybe you were rusty.

"you wanted to know if it was you, if you were doing a bad job?" you tried to reason. why would he give a fuck?

"no," he replied, quickly. "i don't do bad jobs in this line of work." killing people. it was killing people.

you ponder how it was very likely he had watched you do things like change, use your vibrator, watch far too much kitchen nightmares.

you sighed. he spoke again. "you said to call if i needed support."

you held in another scoff, "you didn't call before stalking me?"

"i didn't stalk you, i was checking in. you seemed busy, i didn't want to call."

"checking in?" you repeated flatly.

"yeah."

you blinked at the window. he was still watching you through his scope. "are we going to have to take you to do another evaluation?"

you could almost hear him laugh. those didn't mean anything, fake red tape to make you feel safe, but he would always be cleared. "some people might find your behaviour concerning, baby."

"are you concerned?" vaguely.

you sighed, again.

"you leave your curtains open in your bedroom, you shouldn't do that," he added, like he was chastising you.

"you've been in my bedroom?" you asked, not disturbed, just seeking clarity.

"not inside," he clarified. why stop at your living room, too much time decorating, maybe?

"what did you see, then?"

"you wear short little nightgowns to sleep. i like the blue one, you touch yourself different when you wear it. slower."

"ben," you cut him off from going further, "you need to stop watching me from the fire escape."

silence. then a "no."

"baby, you need to go home now, like a good boy. if you want to see me from now on, you can just come over." what was the point of stopping it? he knew where you lived now, he was going to keep watching you. it was better to know when. probably.

you didn't hear an immediate answer, so you kept going. you didn't see his pants were tightening, didn't see that his cock was hard, but you could somehow hear in his breath. "i'm not going to report you, but you need to remember that i'm in charge, alright?"

again, he did not respond.

"say it."

silence. then, "you're in charge."

"good boy," you said. you paused, calculating your own next move, then you were taking off your clothes. first, your top.

he missed some of it as you moved from the living room to your bedroom. taking off your bra, he saw your bare back, teasing him with the possibility of just seeing your tits, but denying him that. he saw your ass as you pulled down your pants, then your panties, moving to kick them somewhere he would probably hate. you imagine his hands just itching to fold them, or sniff them, or put them in the hamper.

in your closet was the blue nightgown, you pulled it on. you put the phone back up to your ear. "go home, sweetheart, i'll let you use the front door if you're really good for me," you said, hand tracing by your stomach, teasing him again as you turned to face the window once more.

"i'll see you tomorrow," he finds himself saying. you were in charge.

"yeah, baby, if you're good," you said, sauntering to the window, you shut the curtains. "be good."