Sweet & Delicate

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : M 

Warnings : [This is 18+ only, minors DNI] Mentions a past abusive relationship, murder, smut... and I don't actually know anything about astrology so, sorry to any Sagittarius' out there?

When Frank called you a 'space-cadet', Billy damn near broke his jaw. It wasn't the first time he'd punched his friend, but it was the first time he'd hit him over a woman.

You just were... different.

Sweet and delicate. Nothing like the women who usually ended up in Billy's orbit.

You were the kind of person who could either sit for days without saying a word, or talk so much that no one else could get a word in edgeways. In that regard, you weren't entirely unlike Billy, who was happy enough left to a comfortable silence, but more than able to hold a conversation with anyone who wanted it.

But it was the things you said and did that had Frank making that comment, him thinking you were spacey and weird.

Frank didn't know the full story, not like Billy did.

(You didn't even realise that Billy knew.)

He'd first seen you at a Christmas gala last year, on the arm of a competitor. Billy saw things that others didn't know to even look for — a hand gripping your wrist too tight, sharp glances, and sharper words disguised as jokes.

Finding where you worked was easy enough. A little coffee shop in Brooklyn. You had smiled, remembering Billy's name, and made mundane small talk about the weather and how mercury was in retrograde. The latter, you explained, was how you'd come to sprain your wrist. Mercury in retrograde made people do silly, clumsy things. You didn't say who those people were though.

Billy became a regular at the coffee shop, and came to hear all manner of excuses and reasons when you'd turn up bruised and hurt. You hid behind astrology and superstition to cope whenever anything bad happened because the world was just a bit too much for you sometimes.

Three months after meeting you, Billy killed your boyfriend.

And, it came as no surprise that the bruises stopped almost immediately. But the injuries were replaced by something he hadn't anticipated; a sadness, a loneliness that lurked just beneath your smile.

He'd made it so it looked like your boyfriend had upped and left you while you were working, hoping that you'd embrace your freedom. Then he started to realise just how alike you were. You'd had a rough childhood, similar to his. You'd been abandoned, moved between family members, losing people and being given up on, before finally becoming emancipated.

So, Billy started to fill the void, taking you for dinners and meeting you for walks in Central Park.

You became a fixture in his life, showing up every few days when you needed to be near someone. There was no name for what you had together, no easy label, but Billy didn't care. You were his and he became so possessive.

On Halloween, you let yourself into his apartment, like you so often did, and threw yourself onto the sofa.

"I'm cursed," you said, sullenly, voice muffled by the cushions.

"What happened?" Billy asked, coming to sit on the sofa and resting a hand on your back.

"The heating in my apartment broke again, and Mrs Doris' cat hissed at me," you sulked. "Then at work a customer was rude and he spilled his latte all over the counter — he must've been a Sagittarius..."

Billy remained silent, knowing it was best for you to get it all out — even if you getting it all out usually meant trying everything you could to ignore the fact that some people were just rotten at their cores.

"I don't know why Sagittarius' are always so rude to me. I think there was one on the subway too, he kept asking for my number and I think he tried to follow me —"

"What?" He tried in vain to keep the sharp, murderous rage from his tone.

"I didn't look. I just ran all the way here, but now my ankle hurts," you continued, huffing a sigh. "See? I'm cursed. Someone cursed me and now everything is going wrong. Why did they have to curse me at Halloween?"

He knew better than to argue, better than to pull you from the bubble you put yourself in. You had a therapist for that (though you'd been reluctant to go at first, and you had no idea that Billy had been footing half the bill).

"How can I help?" He offered softly, his hand now rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"Can I stay here and watch movies with you?"

"Of course you can, you know you don't have to ask," he answered immediately. "We can order pizza and make some popcorn."

Finally, you lifted your head and flashed him a smile that threatened to completely undo him. "That sounds nice."

Pizza was ordered and eaten, and popcorn was popped.

You picked The Shining to watch, and had settled next to Billy. And, when you shivered, he reached for the fluffy blanket he'd bought just for moments like this one.

He pulled the blanket over you, smiling as you snuggled against his side and let out a soft sigh. It was these moments with you that Billy treasured the most, even though they terrified him. While he'd never hurt you like your ex had, he knew that there was a roughness about him, sharp-edges that were bound to catch you sooner or later. But he couldn't let you go, couldn't give up these moments.

It had taken him weeks to start to understand you, the subtle way that you wanted — too afraid to ask outright, but always willing to drop hints.

Tonight, it was a leg draped over his, spreading your thighs enough that his hand could easily slip down the front of your leggings. Your eyes stayed fixed on the TV, watching as Jack Torrance stalked the halls of the Overlook Hotel, acting oblivious to his fingers as they pressed against the wet fabric of your panties.

You were always wet for him, always ready for his touch, and it was another thing Billy loved about you.

He took it slowly — he always did when it came to you — teasing you, and listening as your breath caught. You weren't loud, you didn't moan or scream for him. Instead you fell apart with quiet, almost reserved gasps, as if someone had dared to tell you that you weren't supposed to make a sound.

The first time he'd had you in his bed, he'd worried that he'd overstepped, that he's misread things when all you did was gasp and pant beneath him. But then you kept coming back, and Billy realised that it was just how you were.

Your head fell against his shoulder, as you took that shuddering, gasped breath. He felt your core tremble and tense through lace, and when you didn't lower your leg, he knew you wanted more.

Fingers slipped into your panties, and he heard your breath catch again. He softly traced the length of your folds with his fingers, holding back his own groan at how wet you were. There was no stopping his cock from throbbing, eager to slip inside you and feel your tight, wet cunt wrapped around him.

If you were anyone else, he would have had you on your back by now, screaming his name.

But you weren't anyone else. You were you, and Billy didn't want to treat you that way.

He'd come to learn what you liked, how you wanted to be touched, and making you come was one of the few pleasures he had in life.

You pressed closer, your back arching a little as he started with your clit, rubbing circles against the swollen bundle, his fingertips slick with your arousal. You turned a little more towards him, opening your legs a wider, but kept your eyes glued on the TV. Wendy Torrance was fighting off Jack with a baseball bat.

Billy knew what you wanted without you needing to speak.

His fingers slipped lower, catching on your entrance, teasing for a moment, before two of them sank inside of you.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, always so amazed by the wet heat of your cunt.

Your hand reached for him, beneath the blanket, grasping a handful of his shirt, and holding tight. You never had to say that you wanted him, that you wanted to keep him, because you always found a way to show him. And you were the first person to ever really make Billy feel wanted.

His fingers started to move in a slow but steady pace, driving into you to the knuckle every time. You were so wet, he could hear every shift of his fingers. He drove you higher and higher, until you were panting against him, still trying to focus on the TV. But, your eyes fluttered shut when his fingers bent inside of you, dragging along your inner walls, searching for that special spot.

Another gasp told him he'd found it, and he began to run the tips of his fingers over it with every thrust. You shuddered as you came and turned your face to bury it against his neck. He waited until the tremors subsided before pulling his fingers from your body and your panties.

Billy pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, and you snuggled closer still, lifting your other leg and draping it over his lap.

"Can we go to bed?" You asked.

Again, he knew enough to be able to read between the lines. You wanted more. You wanted him. And who was Billy to refuse you?

"Of course," he said.

He turned off the TV and lifted you, carrying you like a princess into his bedroom.

There was a reverence to the way he stripped you of your clothes, pressing kisses on every inch of skin he managed to expose, each time drawing an awkward breath from you and putting the sweetest smile on your lips.

Billy laid you down then quickly shed his own clothes. Your arms wrapped around him as he crawled over you, and you pulled him down to give him the kind of kiss that made him feel like he'd died and gone to heaven.

He wasn't sure if what you did was making love — he wasn't even sure he was capable of making love — but he was tender and gentle with you. It wasn't something he'd ever wanted in the past, but for you, he was soft and delicate, making you come over and over, until he finally reached his own orgasm.

You clung so tightly to him, even when it was all over. And, when you curled up to sleep, it was with your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

(You Will) Be Mine

Pairing : Alpha!Billy Russo x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : M 

Warnings : [This is 18+ only, minors DNI] Toxic behaviour, smut and standard A/B/O themes including omega heat and claiming.  

You'd never struggled to get an alpha's attention before. Usually all you had to do was bat your eyelashes to have them giving you anything you wanted. But not him. No, Billy had to be difficult.

He took you to bed easily enough, and the night he spent inside of you easily cemented one thought in your mind; you needed him to claim you. You needed to be his.

Billy had other plans. He had a great time, you were amazing, but he didn't want the commitment, didn't want the attachment. He showed you to the door with a smile on his face, and told you that he hoped you understood.

You did. You understood perfectly. It was Billy that didn't understand. Once you'd had him, you couldn't go back to a life without him. You wouldn't.

It started slowly, carefully. You followed his socials and all of the dating apps he was on — the moment he showed interest in anyone, you made your move. Countless omegas cancelled their dates with him because of you and the stories you'd spin about him. And the ones that didn't cancel, you made sure to scare them off with more obvious methods, sending them little 'gifts' in the mail from Billy; skimpy lingerie with notes telling them to wear it for their dates with him, sex toys, and leather collars.

Omega after omega ghosted him before he finally realised what was going on. And you managed to time it all perfectly.

He turned up at your door just before midnight, and he didn't realise his mistake until it was too late.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He asked, pushing his way into your little apartment. "You knew what it was before you crawled into my bed — you knew it didn't mean anything."

"That was before —"

"Before what?" He snapped.

He stepped closer and you took a step back. Soon enough you were leading him into the apartment, all the while letting him think that he was in charge of the situation, letting him play the part of the big, scary alpha. And you could tell from the spark in his eyes that he liked it, that he was enjoying stalking an omega like a wolf with its prey.

"Before I knew what it felt like to have you," you said, stopping when you bumped into the back of the sofa.

"You're pathetic," he said, crowding you, leaving no space between you and falling into your trap. "You think that just 'cause —"

Billy took a breath and realised entirely too late what was going on. The change in him was visceral, his whole body shuddering as he inhaled deeply. Your heat was starting and he could smell it all over you.

"Alpha," you whined softly.

He shook his head and tried to silence his alpha urges, but you knew he was fighting a losing battle. His body went rigid against yours and you dared press closer to him, placing a hand on his hip and staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Please, alpha, I need you..."

"I'm not your alpha," he said through gritted teeth, though the fight was already starting to drain from his voice.

"But you could be," you offered softly. "Just think about it — no more one night stands, no more having to find omegas who want to share your bed. You could have me whenever you wanted. Anytime. Anywhere."

"I don't want to be tied to anyone," he confessed.

"You won't have to be," you said, slowly slipping your hand to the front of his pants to undo his belt. "I'll be yours, Billy — yours to do with as you please. I don't want anything in return. I'll never try to control you."

All lies of course. What were you doing now, if not trying to control him?

"You want to belong to me? Be nothing more than a possession?" He asked, doubtful, but not stopping your fingers as they pulled open his belt.

"Yes. That's all I want," you lied, knowing that the rest would come later. "I don't want love or a relationship. I just want you as my alpha."

The scent of your heat was growing thick around you, and you could see him struggling against it.

"You did this on purpose —"

"You're the one who showed up here unannounced, Billy," you said. "How could I have known you'd turn up when my heat was starting?"

With his belt undone, you popped the button of his pants and slowly pulled down the zipper, already feeling the way his cock was straining. But, before you could reach inside, before you could think about convincing him with a more physical approach, Billy moved.

He turned you away from him, lifting you off the floor and draping your body over the back of the sofa. Your feet kicked a little as you feigned surprise, wanting the big, bad alpha to feel powerful, in control. You heard his jeans drop to the floor, the padded clunk of his phone in his pocket hitting the hardwood. Then he was behind you, hands flipping up your skirt.

"Alpha!" You gasped as he pressed himself between your thighs, only his boxers and your soaked panties separating you.

"Is this what you want, little omega?" He asked, grinding against you. "You want me to lose my fucking mind over you."

"Yes!"

He kept moving, kept grinding against you, each shift of his hips pushing you further into your omega head space and making your heat burn through you.

"Alpha, please..." you whined, unable to move or grind back against him even though you were desperate for more.

The scent of his arousal mixed with your own and you felt your control starting to slip. You knew he was right there with you, that you were both too far gone to stop this.

"Please, what?" He asked, his voice lower, demanding.

You already knew from experience how much he liked to hear you beg. The first night you'd spent with him had seen you pleading for him, and he'd more than rewarded you for it. His alpha loved your submission.

"I —" a moan tore from your lips as his hips pressed forward again, "— I need you alpha. Please. I need to feel you inside me..."

You sounded so small, so pathetic, and he responded with a dark rumbling from the back of his throat.

"Please, alpha," you continued. "I want to be yours."

Billy continued to grind against you as all manner of pleas fell from your lips, until the last of his resolve snapped.

Your slick panties were torn away from your body and, before you had time to think, his cock was buried inside of you. You cried out at the suddenness, but Billy didn't give you a chance to adjust or get used to him. He fucked you hard and fast, your body completely at his mercy.

"Is this what you want?" He panted, every drive of his hips pushing you into the hard back of the sofa. "Is this what you needed? You want me to fuck you like a pathetic omega?"

"Yes!" You cried, overwhelmed but still desperate for more. "Yes, please, I — oh fuck..."

Your admission only made him fuck you harder, causing the sofa to shift on the wooden floor. Each drive of his hips pulled an eager sound from you, until every breath you took was punctuated by moans and omega whines.

It wasn't long before you felt your climax starting to build inside of you, a tension coiling deep in your stomach. You didn't hold back, letting it rack your body. The cries and moans that escaped you were more than loud enough to disturb the neighbours, but you didn't care. And neither did Billy.

He kept going. Fucking you from one orgasm and into the next.

Your head was empty by the time he pulled out of you, and all you could do was sob and babble at the loss. He hadn't come, hadn't knotted you, but you couldn't even form the words to beg for him anymore. Fortunately, you didn't have to.

Billy turned you and lifted you, and your arms and legs instinctively wrapped around him as he carried you to the nearest wall. Then he was inside you again, easily holding you up with one arm, while the hand of the other tangled in your hair, pulling and ensuring that your attention remained entirely on him.

The strain on his face and the dark glint in his eyes told you that he was getting close.

Your fingers gripped his shirt as more whines spilled from you, feeding his alpha, showing it just how in control it was. Arching your back off the wall, you tried to meet his pace, but you couldn't — you were already too fucked out, too weak. But just the sight of your pathetic attempts brought a smile to his lips.

"A-alpha..." was the only word you could manage, and it fell from your lips over and over.

"That's right," he groaned, gritting his teeth as if he was trying to keep the words from escaping. "I'm your alpha."

You came again, trembling and shaking with every clench of your walls around him. It was enough that you barely noticed him wrenching your head to the side.

You screamed his name as you felt his teeth break the skin of your gland and you felt his claim take hold, giving you everything that you wanted. His tongue soothed over the broken skin and his cock started to pulse inside of you.

"Mine," he grunted.

"Alpha..."

Your body went limp in his arms as his knot started to swell inside of you.

You clung to him as he moved you, awkwardly carrying you to the sofa and collapsing with you on top of him, his knot keeping him where he belonged.

"You've got no fucking idea what you've let yourself in for," he muttered against your ear as your eyes closed.

Vicious Love

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : M 

Warnings : [This is 18+ only, minors DNI] Toxic/possessive relationship, slapping, some choking, rough sex in an alleyway.  

He spent dinner making eyes at the waitress.

That didn't bother you nearly as much as the fact that she enjoyed it. No, not enjoyed. Indulged and encouraged.

You found yourself gripping your steak knife whenever she came back to refill his glass or take empty plates, leaning a little, giving him the perfect view down her blouse.

And, of course, as soon as she left, his attention returned to you as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just been eye-fucking another woman right in front of you. He was desperate for you to bring it up, to cause a jealous argument, just so he could roll his eyes and pretend that you were acting crazy.

But you weren't going to fall for it this time.

You finished your meal and said nothing as Billy slipped the waitress a hundred dollar bill. (If you were feeling truly crazy, you might have stopped to wonder if he'd written his number on it for her.)

He took your hand and led you outside, quickly spiriting you into a taxi and on to the second part of date night; drinks with Frank and Karen.

To say that his friends didn't like you was something of an understatement. They thought you were bad for Billy, that you made each other miserable. But, since your engagement, they'd started to make the effort and so had you. Mostly. But not tonight. Billy had spent dinner trying to get under your skin and, now, it was your turn.

You stayed with the group for a few drinks, occupying a booth near the pool tables in the back of the dingy little bar in Hells Kitchen. But then you decided to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later (and you were honestly surprised he'd managed to last that long) Billy found you at the bar, batting your eyelashes at some guy in a cheap suit. He leaned in close, acting like it was the only way he could hear you over the noise, his hand mere inches from yours on the bar.

The empty shot glasses beside you told a story, and the way the guy was smiling at you made Billy's blood boil. Finally, he was getting a taste of his own medicine. You laughed at something stupid, and dared place your hand on your new friend's shoulder for the briefest of seconds.

Billy was behind you in an instant, his arm possessively snaking around your waist, fingers pressing into flesh through your dress.

"Hey, buddy, we're in the middle of a conversation," the guy said.

Billy tensed behind you. "Sorry, but I really should be getting my fiancee home."

The man in front of you blanched, his eyes dropping to the very prominent ring on your left hand. Before he could even stammer through some kind of apology to Billy, you were being pulled away from the bar towards the back door.

Billy didn't say anything until you were outside, and neither did you. But the second the door shut behind you and it was just you and Billy, you pulled away from him.

"D'you think you're fuckin' funny?" He asked, stepping towards you and showing a flash of frustration when you stepped back.

"I'm fucking hilarious," you countered. "Maybe you would've noticed if you hadn't spent all of dinner eye-fucking the waitress."

"The redhead?"

"Oh, so you even remember the colour of her hair. Must be love."

"Ha ha." He took another step forward and you took another back. "You're right, you're hilarious."

"I know, that's why I was looking for a man who might actually appreciate me."

Billy let out a cold laugh. "And you think that asshole at the bar could?"

"Maybe," you said, shrugging. "Guess we'll have to find out..."

This time when Billy moved, you tried to hold your ground. One hand grabbed your waist, the other your shoulder, and you found yourself forced backwards until you were against the wall.

"You're not finding out anything, princess."

"You think you can stop me?" You spat, shoving him roughly but barely causing him to move.

"Yeah, I do," he said, pressing closer, pinning you against the wall with his body. "You're mine. You belong to me."

You swung your hand, catching him by surprise. The slap rang out through the alleyway, and your engagement ring caught on his skin, leaving him with a small cut on his cheek.

"I don't belong to anyone," you said.

His eyes seemed to get darker, hinting at something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. But you weren't afraid. Not of Billy. Never of Billy. Instead the look on his face started to stoke a heat between your thighs.

"The ring on your finger says otherwise."

"This ring?" You held up your left hand. "You can have it back —"

The moment you even hinted at removing the ring, Billy lost all control. Your wrists were pinned above your head, and his lips were against yours. You turned your head, first left, then right, trying to avoid his kiss, but it was all a performance and you both knew it.

He pulled your hands together, easily grasping both of your wrists in one hand, so he could use his other hand to grip your jaw, keeping you still so he could kiss you.

You continued to resist, ignoring the pressure of his tongue against the seam of your lips, not letting him have the control he was demanding. But it didn't last. He applied the slightest pressure on your jaw, causing your mouth to open, letting his tongue slip in, and you were a goner.

You softened against him, losing yourself in the fierce kiss, claiming and being claimed all at once. It was how you spoke best to each other, mouth to mouth, and body to body.

For better or worse, Billy was yours. And you were his.

Nothing was ever going to change that.

"If you ever try to leave me for another man, I'll kill him in front of you," Billy grunted against your lips, hefting you up and letting your legs wrap around his waist.

He released your wrists, and your fingers quickly ended up in his hair, roughly tugging.

"If you ever cheat on me, I'll kill you," you groaned into his mouth. "I'll cut your dick off, then kill you."

He was already hard in his pants — he'd probably been hard since the moment he'd forced you outside (these moments tended to excite him) — and, when he started to grind against you, you realised how wet the argument had gotten you.

"I'll never cheat," he swore. "You're mine, princess. You're all I want. All I need."

You'd heard the words a thousand times, but they still caused your heart to race. He wanted you, just like you wanted him. What you had was twisted and a little fucked up, but it was yours, and you knew you'd never find this feeling with anyone else.

"Billy," you prompted. "Fuck me."

You didn't have to tell him twice. His lips covered yours again. His hand awkwardly tugged up your dress, while you pulled his belt and pants open. It was a familiar dance, and you both knew the steps well.

Your wet, lacy panties were pulled to the side, and before you had the chance to even take a breath, he was inside of you. Every inch. You moaned against his lips, feeling brickwork biting into your bare shoulders as he started to fuck you.

"I'll never leave you," you gasped, pulling on his hair, forcing him to look at you. "And you'll never leave me."

"Never," he agreed.

Eager moans spilled from you, and you didn't bother to try and hold them back. You didn't care if anyone on the main street heard you. You just wanted your fiance to fuck you.

"You belong to me," he said, punctuating the point with a particularly hard thrust that had you seeing stars. "Every part of you, including this perfect cunt."

This time, you didn't want to deny him. "Yes."

"And I belong to you."

It was the greatest gift a man like Billy could offer you, allowing you to have him, possess him. The words alone had you clenching around him, your cunt squeezing his cock as he fucked the deepest parts of you.

"You're mine, Billy. All mine," you moaned. "Oh, fuck — Billy, I'm so fucking close..."

Your back arched, pressing your bare shoulders against the bricks, but you didn't care about the pain or the scratches on your skin. The only thing you cared about was the man inside of you.

"I love you," Billy said.

He knew what those words did to you and, whether he'd meant to or not, over the course of your five month relationship, he'd conditioned you to come whenever you heard them.

A wild moan tore from your lips as you came undone for him, your cunt clenching in waves around him. Billy didn't stop, didn't slow — you didn't expect him to. If Billy didn't make you come at least a couple of times when he was inside of you, he considered it a failure.

His hand gripped your throat and gave a testing squeeze, causing your gasped moans to hitch and catch. You forced yourself to look at him, to hold his gaze, letting him know you weren't afraid of him or his darkest desires. His grip tightened a little more, and he fucked you harder, right through your orgasm.

"I... love you... too..." you managed to gasp between thrusts of his hips. You needed to say it, needed him to know, even though it was the most obvious thing in the world to him.

"I'll never let you go," Billy grunted, his voice turning more strained the closer he got to his own orgasm. “Ever.”

"Good. Don't."

He wouldn't, just like you'd never let him go. You were both a little crazy like that, both so caught up in the rough, almost violent love that you shared. But it was love, and it was yours. That was the only thing that mattered. And, one day soon, the man inside of you would be your husband, and the rest of your lives would be spent like this; fierce arguments followed by fiercer fucking.

"I want to feel you come inside me," you gasped, feeling yourself on the cusp of another climax.

It was as if you'd spoken the magic words because, a few sharp thrusts later, you felt Billy start to twitch and spill inside of you. The sudden flood of warmth was enough to push you over the edge, and you both came together. Before he was done, Billy half pulled out, making it so when he did let his cock slip from you, his cum leaked out down your thighs.

Once he’d lowered you back to the ground, he slid your panties back into place, and pressed his hand to them, grinning as his cum soaked through them.

"You're disgusting," you said, but there was no fight in your voice anymore, just exhausted affection.

"I'm yours."

Chapter One

Everything hurt.

Not in a way that had you wondering if you’d been in an accident, but the kind of aching hurt that tended to follow a good night out.

The room was spinning so much that it took you a few moments to realise that it wasn’t even your room, that you weren’t in your own bed, and you weren’t alone.

How much did you have to drink last night?

When the answer didn’t immediately come to you, you gave up on the question completely. You’d never been any good at keeping track of your drinks. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. What was done was done — and, judging from the ache between your thighs, it had been done several times and very enthusiastically. Besides, it wasn’t the first time you’d gotten blitzed out of your mind and woken up next to some random guy.

A random guy who...

Oh shit. 

Your nostrils flared as you caught a scent that cut through the lingering aroma of sex, sweat, and alcohol. 

Alpha. You’d gone home with an alpha. 

You took a slow breath, trying to ignore the effect his rich scent had on your omega senses, and tried to fight off the urge to curl against him and press your face to his neck. It was like something inside of you was pulling towards him, desperate for just a few more minutes in his presence. You tried to remember the night before, anything that might explain how you’d come to wake up in his bed.

You’d broken up with Kyle after class, just before your shift at the coffee shop. It hadn’t been pretty, and he’d had the nerve to accuse you of cheating, even though you knew he’d been through half the girls in his class. But the disintegration of your three year relationship had left you feeling like shit, so Shelly, your roommate and work-wife, had demanded you go drinking with her.

She’d ordered shots — so many fucking shots.

She’d dragged you from bar to bar until, finally, you’d ended up in some super exclusive club. The bouncer had let you both in because he knew Shelly (and by knew, you assumed in a very biblical sense). Then, as she always did, Shelly kind of vanished, leaving you alone at the bar nursing your drink and a painful feeling of abandonment.

Then he’d appeared beside you, offering to buy you a drink and not taking no for an answer.

"Just one drink — what's the harm?" He said.

"No, thank you," you said, barely able to look at the alpha without your cheeks heating, overwhelmed by every little thing about him from his scent to the way his dark eyes seemed to look through you and right down to your soul.

“There's no need to be shy, little omega. I promise you won't regret it.” 

Your eyes rolled at the memory of the words but you couldn’t judge him too harshly because it had clearly worked.

Looking down, you realised that his hand was on your thigh, his fingers possessively splayed between your legs. You reached for it and eased it away. His fingers instantly curled, missing the contact.

Your heart threatened to stop when a soft grumble spilled from him and he turned towards you. He was still fast asleep but, finally, you could see his face.

Okay, yeah, even by alpha standards he was hot, and that made you feel a little better about falling into bed with him. But he was definitely older than you — ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty years older. You couldn’t tell. He looked like he took care of himself, from the obviously moisturised skin of his face, down to his toned chest and abs, and —

Your eyes shot back up the moment they strayed a little too low and you realised that, just like you, he was completely naked.

As you cautiously sat up, your whole body protested and ached. The stained sheets that were bundled at the foot of the bed, further confirmed that you’d spent a lot of last night having hot, messy sex.

You needed a shower and at least another twenty hours of sleep to recover, but you knew you’d get neither of those things there. No, you needed to get up and get out of there before he woke up and things got even more awkward.

You lifted yourself out of bed slowly and bit back a groan at the ache between your legs. Fuck, had he knotted you last night? You cast a glance back to his naked body, this time letting your eyes dip lower to take in the... uh, sheer size of him and, honestly, you couldn’t tell if the ache was from a knot or just from how enthusiastic you'd been. 

Not that you had much to go on. He was technically your first alpha, and you’d never been knotted before, so —

Shaking your head, you forced the thought away. It was something else you didn’t want to think about.

The empty bottles on the floor helped explain your hangover, and brought back a wonderfully embarrassing memory of you pouring champagne over your breasts and him licking it up. All things considered, it seemed like you’d had quite a night, and it would have been a lie to say that the thought of his lips on you, worshipping your body, didn’t send a tingle of arousal through you.

You found your dress in a heap on the floor, next to the torn remains of your panties. As for your bra — you had no idea where that had ended up, and you didn’t have the time to search. 

Great, you’d be doing the walk of shame completely commando.

At least your purse was easy to find, dropped on the floor by the bedroom door, your phone still in there but, unfortunately, completely dead.

The alpha — whose name you realised you couldn’t remember — stirred again, and you quickly pulled on your dress. 

You slipped out of the bedroom and stopped dead in your tracks at the sight in front of you.

It was a penthouse apartment. His home was so fucking big you could have fit at least three of your tiny apartments into just the sitting area. Floor to ceiling windows looked out over Central Park, telling you that not only were you in Manhattan, but that the alpha you’d spent the night with was disgustingly wealthy.

(Not that it was unusual for alpha's to be disgustingly wealthy, it was just your first time witnessing it.)

Your shoes were easy to spot, one near the sofa and the other — oh, of course this bougie penthouse had an elevator that opened up right into the apartment.

Who the fuck was this guy and why had he wasted his time with you?

Nothing in the apartment gave you any sort of hint about who he was, and you didn’t have time to investigate. No, you wanted to get out of there before he woke up and you had to face the consequences of whatever drunk-you had gotten up to. The Armani jacket on the floor next to your coat told you more than enough. Whoever he was, he was out of your league.

You pulled your coat on but didn’t bother with the shoes, not wanting to make a noise on the hardwood floor.

A sigh of relief escaped you as you reached the elevator and hit the call button. Within seconds the elevator pinged, the doors slid open, and you stepped inside. You hit the button for the ground floor and the door started to close when —

“Omega?”

His voice was a dark rasp that sent a shiver down your spine, and your eyes caught his as he staggered out of the bedroom, still completely naked, and looking just as hungover as you felt. The doors shut and the elevator started to descend.

You looked up and realised that he lived on the 75th floor, and it brought back another strange memory.

“I wanna push the button,” you said, your fingers gripping the waistband of his pants as he walked you backwards into the elevator.

“I think you’ve already pushed enough buttons,” he said, his voice betraying his rapidly fraying control.

You pouted and watched as, instead of pressing a button, he pulled a key from his jacket and slotted it into the panel, and the elevator started to move.

“Fancy,” you said, staring up at him as he crowded closer to you, pressing you back against the wall.

“You have no idea, little omega,” he muttered before his lips covered yours.

You returned the kiss eagerly, moaning against his lips as his hand brazenly slid beneath your skirt and into your —

The elevator dinged, and you quickly exited, wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the memory of his fingers between your legs. You pulled on your shoes as you stepped out into the lobby, trying to ignore the questioning looks from the doorman as you quickly headed outside. Normally you might have felt annoyed by the looks but, given how you felt, you were sure you looked awful.

But you didn’t have time to check or fix your appearance, not when the alpha might have been following.

Thankfully, you still had your metrocard, and it was still early enough that the subway was quiet — though that didn't stop the strange looks you got as you got off in Brooklyn and made your way out of the station. It wasn't surprising, not when you smelled of alpha and looked like hell.

But, again, it wasn't your first walk of shame.

By the time you reached your little sixth floor apartment, you were itching to throw yourself in the shower and scrub away his scent.

"Shell?" You called out as you slipped inside and locked the door behind you.

There was no answer and, as you moved further into the apartment, you realised why. The alphabet magnets on the refrigerator had been arranged to spell C U AT WORK HOPE THE D WAS GUD. You rolled your eyes, already knowing you were going to have to explain the previous night to her in as much detail as you could remember.

You plugged your phone in, and checked the time on the oven — it was almost 10am. You had to be at the coffee shop by midday.

You didn't dare even glance at the mirror as you headed into the bathroom, pulling off your dress and throwing it in the hamper before stepping into the shower and turning it as hot as it would go. For ten minutes you just stood under the water, letting it slowly ease some of your aches and pains before you finally reached for the vanilla body wash to scrub away his scent.

"You smell so good," you groaned, pressing yourself closer to him.

His arm snaked around your waist, and he pressed his nose to your hair. "So do you, omega. I could eat you right up."

"Maybe I want you to eat me up..."

Shaking your head, you tried to force the memory away, and returned to scrubbing your skin raw. Even that didn't completely wash away his scent so when you emerged from the shower, you slathered yourself in vanilla scented moisturiser, hoping to cover it until it faded.

You still felt sore and exhausted, but you felt more human, and you were confident that you could face an eight hour shift.

More importantly, you were confident that you could finally face your own reflection in the mirror. 

Big mistake.

The moment you wiped the condensation from the mirror, you saw it.

"No — fuck, no..."

Panic filled you as you pressed a finger to the angry red mark on your neck, the bruised indentation of teeth over your mating gland.

It was a claiming mark.

He had claimed you, taken you as his mate, and you couldn't even fucking remember it.

"No, no, no..." you muttered, pulling and prodding at the reddened skin, looking for any sign that it wasn't what you thought. "Fuck. Fuck..."

You'd literally broken up with Kyle less than 24 hours ago; how could you be mated to a new guy now?

Leaving the bathroom in nothing but a towel, you grabbed your phone — thankfully it now had enough of a charge to turn back on. There were a dozen messages from Shelly, asking where you were, but they weren't important. You needed to try to piece together what had happened last night that had led to your being claimed.

Opening the gallery, you found exactly what you'd expected and feared. A slew of new photos and videos from last night.

They started innocently enough; selfies of you and Shelly at the bar. Then there was a respectable selfie with him.

After that, it was all downhill.

Your cheeks burned as you scrolled through pictures of you and the alpha. He had his nose to your neck, inhaling your scent in one, and his lips pressed to your gland in another. There were photos of you kissing him, holding him, running your fingers through his hair. All the kinds of behaviour that might have been acceptable after mating, but not before.

Sure, you looked drunk in the pictures, but not blackout drunk, not like you didn't know what you were doing. And that made it worse. You'd obviously wanted him — you just couldn't remember how much and why you'd let him claim you.

The pictures got more graphic. There were even videos of you making out in a club — not the one Shelly had abandoned you in, so obviously you'd painted the town red with the alpha. His lips and nose kept returning to your gland, and despite the thrumming music in the background, you could hear him telling you that you smelled divine, that he needed to taste you, needed to have you. And you —

You stopped the video the moment you started whining, making the sort of purely omega sounds that you usually only made during your heats.

The next few pictures were on a dark street, of him pressing you against a car. Still, you seemed aware enough to know what you wanted because you were happily documenting it, like you did every other fun night out. Like you had done with Kyle before the breakup.

As much as you might have wanted to spend the rest of the day dealing with the shock, you had to get ready for work.

It was an effort to keep from trembling as you dried your hair, pulled on your uniform, and did your make-up. Something inside you felt... wrong. Worry, or maybe anxiety over being claimed. You weren't sure. The only thing you were sure of was the fact that you couldn't just waltz into work with a claiming bite on your neck.

You tried to ignore it and force it aside. You could think about it after work, talk it through with Shelly, and try to figure out just what the fuck you were going to do. Between the two of you, maybe you could find some way of getting out of a mating.

Unfortunately, you underestimated your best friend because the moment you set foot in The Daily Grind, her eyes narrowed on you.

You slipped into the back to hang up your coat and drop your purse, and took a moment to check yourself in the mirror. The make-up on your neck was holding up, but it was more obvious than you would have liked.

"So..." Shelly prompted as you stepped behind the counter.

You shrugged and ignored her, pulling on your apron, and pretending like you were checking stock.

"That good?" Shelly asked. "Or that bad?"

Despite knowing it was futile to try to ignore her, you kept your back to her. After around twenty seconds, you felt a hand on your shoulder and allowed yourself to be pulled around.

Her smile dropped as she looked at you, replaced by concern.

"Shit, what happened?" She asked.

She cupped your cheek and looked into your eyes, and — well, clearly you hadn't done as good a job as you'd thought with your make-up, because she was looking at you like you were half-dead.

"I'm fine. It's nothing. I —"

"What's on your neck?" She asked sharply. You weren't sure if she'd noticed the actual mark or just the excessive foundation. "Did someone hurt you?"

"No, I just —" you stopped as your voice trembled, and tears prickled the corners of your eyes.

"What the fuck is going on?" Shelly demanded. "If someone hurt you —"

"I don't know what happened."

"Did someone put something in your drink?"

"No, I — I don't think so." You blinked, trying to keep yourself from crying. "But I... I don't remember what happened. And he..."

"What? What did he do?" She said as softly as she could manage — which, honestly, wasn't all that softly because she was considering murder.

You let out a shuddered sigh and tilted your head, letting her get a better look at the messy make-up caked over the claiming bite.

"He bit me..." you said. Shelly looked at you blankly. "He claimed me."

"He claimed you?" She said, her voice louder, even angrier than before. "Did you want him to? Did you say he could? Did he force you?"

"I don't know. I don't think so." You let out a huff and leaned back against the counter, arms folding over your chest. "I can't explain it. I... I keep remembering parts of last night; I was happy, enjoying myself with him. But I don't remember agreeing to let him claim me."

She shot you another confused look, so instead of fighting to find the words, you pulled out your phone, and handed it to her with the gallery open.

"I think I liked him," you said. "But I don't know why I'd ever agree to this..."

Shelly's confusion only deepened as she saw how happy you were in all of the photos. She'd seen you blackout drunk enough times to recognise it, and you weren't wasted in any of the pictures.

She handed the phone back and took a few seconds before speaking again.

"So, he didn't hurt you or force you, but you don't remember it?" She asked. You shook your head. She fell silent again, considering for a moment more. "Hang on..." She pulled out her own phone and typed something. "I'm sure I remember something from omega pre-med..."

Something from before she'd decided that she preferred the party life to the college life and had dropped out — a decision that you often envied.

You remained silent, knowing better than to disturb her while she was thinking. Shelly was smart; if anyone could figure this out, it was her.

"Post-mating amnesia," she declared, flashing her phone screen as if the medical journal she'd found would mean anything to you. "Sometimes called claiming brain-fog — rare phenomenon... blah, blah, blah — when an omega is claimed in a heightened emotional state, dopamine and endorphin spikes can cause something similar to a fugue state."

"What does 'claimed in a heightened state' even mean?"

"That the dick was that good," Shelly said, shrugging.

You slapped her arm. "Not funny."

Her attention returned to her phone for a second, her expression softening before she looked back up. "Oh, come on, this guy obviously really did something for you. Maybe it's not such a bad thing —"

"Are you fucking kidding?" You barely kept yourself from yelling. "I'm mated to a guy I don't even know — what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"Get to know him? See if you remember anything or if you feel anything?"

"What else does it say?" You asked, ignoring her suggestion and trying to snatch her phone.

"Nothing. Just boring omega brain chemical analyses that your dumbass wouldn't understand," she said, smirking playfully. "Everything in here seems to suggest that it's something that happens when you really want it. So, I think you need to figure out why you wanted it..."

"Does it say anything about getting rid of it?"

Shelly rolled her eyes. "C'mon, even you know that's not how it works. It can take years for an unwanted mating bond to break. If it breaks at all."

"Great," you muttered sarcastically, "guess I'll have to wait years then..."

"Do you really think that's an option?" She asked. You didn't answer. "Maybe you should find him and try to work it out?"

You gave a grumbled response, about to say something about not wanting to work it out and just wanting it to go away, when a customer approached the counter for a large matcha macchiato and a cinnamon roll. It was a nice distraction, but it didn't last.

So, you found other distractions, like refilling the refrigerator and grabbing more pastries from the back.

The whole time, Shelly watched you, not saying anything. She knew well enough that when you were annoyed it was best just to leave you to it. From time to time, you'd catch her looking at her phone, then at you. It made you wonder if she knew something that she wasn't telling you.

Things slowly started picking as the lunch rush began. Usually it was the time of day you dreaded, but today, you were glad of the distraction. Soon enough, almost every table was full, and you and Shelly were constantly alternating between making drinks and cleaning up.

He stepped into the coffee shop and everything fell silent.

Billy.

Seeing him again shook the memory loose and you remembered his name.

His eyes caught yours, and your legs went weak beneath you, the aching between your thighs serving as a reminder of what you'd spent the night doing with him.

He looked — well, fuck, he looked immaculate.

He'd looked handsome in bed, fast asleep with his hair tousled, but now, in his pristine black suit, hair slicked back, and his dark eyes wide awake? He looked so good you were sure he was the devil.

And it wasn't just you that noticed. No, the moment he stepped through the door, it was as if he took up all the space in the tiny coffee shop. Everyone with acute enough senses (mostly the omega customers) knew what he was right away.

But Shelly didn't need omega senses, not when she caught the way he was looking at you as he approached the counter, like a predator stalking towards its prey.

"Holy shit," she muttered to you. "The photos did not do him justice."

All you could muster was a nod.

"There you are."

Just the sound of his voice sent a shiver running down your spine and stirred memories of some of the filthier things he'd whispered into your ear last night when he'd been inside you.

(You're mine. This perfect body, this tight little cunt — it's all mine, omega. I'll never let you go.)

"What —" you tried to speak, but your mouth suddenly felt dry "— how did you find me?"

If he could sense your discomfort, he didn't let it show. He just smiled at you.

"You told me you worked here," he said.

(Had you? Why would you tell someone like him where you worked?)

"Do you want me to make him leave?" Shelly asked, and you couldn't even tear your eyes from him.

"What do you want?" You asked him.

"To see you," he said simply. "You left without saying goodbye. I was worried."

You simply stared at him. How could he be so cool and collected? Why wasn't he freaking out? Oh God... had it been deliberate?

His eyes dropped to your neck, to the sloppy cover-up job you'd done on his claiming mark, but anything he might have felt remained hidden by that smile. This, you realised, was a man who liked to remain in complete control at all times. A strong, dominant alpha.

And that could only mean one thing...

"You claimed me," you blurted out, somehow keeping your voice low enough so as not to alert the entire shop.

"I did."

"Why?"

Finally, there was a flicker of emotion — not much, just the slightest twitching at the corner of his eye. "What do you mean why?"

"I mean —"

Behind him someone cleared their throat, and you realised that, in the time he'd been standing there, a small queue had formed. Billy glanced over his shoulder with a casual indifference at the two frustrated betas.

"When do you finish?" He asked. You told him 6 and he damn near rolled his eyes. "When's your break?"

"I only just started."

"Fine. I'll wait. In the meantime, I suppose I'll take an Americano and —" he leaned a little to look at the pastries, "— a chocolate muffin."

You worked on autopilot, unsure what to say or do. You rang up his order, plated his muffin, and Shelly told him to go sit down and wait for his coffee.

As you got back to work, Shelly muttered; "do you want me to spit in his drink?"

The laugh that bubbled out of you helped relieve some of the tension, but the sound was enough to have him looking your way again as you continued to serve customers.

"If you want me to get rid of him —" Shelly started again.

"No. I need to find out what the fuck is going on before I get rid of him."

"So, you're just gonna send him away?"

"Of course I'm going to send him away — what the fuck else am I gonna do?"

Shelly finished his order and didn't even ask before taking it to him, roughly placing it down in front of him and muttering something you couldn't hear. When she came back, she gave you a smile, obviously proud of herself.

The lunch rush continued, and he just sat there. When he wasn't staring at you or slowly picking away at his chocolate muffin, his eyes were on his phone. Given the impressive size of his apartment, you had to assume that he was missing work to be there, watching you. You did everything you could not to look at or even think about him, ignoring the problem until it was time to deal with it.

After some prodding from Shelly, you took your lunch break, grabbing a latte with a double espresso shot and a cinnamon roll.

Billy's eyes lifted from his phone to watch you as you approached him and sat opposite. He looked at you, then at your lunch, and back again, his expression betraying an unasked question.

"What?" You asked.

"Is that all you're going to have?" He asked. "Did you have breakfast this morning?"

There was no containing your confusion. Or your irritation. "How is that your business?"

"Because you're my —"

"I'm nothing to you."

He set his jaw and took a second, biting back his frustration. "The mark on your neck says otherwise, omega."

"Well, I don't remember you asking permission to —"

"You don't remember?" There was that twitch at the corner of his eye again. He had a good poker face; you had to give him that much, but his emotions betrayed him whenever you brought up last night.

"No. I don't," you said flatly. "All I remember is waking up in your bed this morning with no idea of where I was or who you were."

He visibly paled.

"You don't know who I am?" His eye twitched again and his discomfort spread to the rest of his body causing his shoulder to tick upwards. "You don't remember any of it?"

"I know your name is Billy — I remembered that much when you walked in, but the rest..." you trailed off into a shrug. "Look, I don't really care how or why this happened. I just want to fix it. I want it gone. I don't want to be claimed."

"It's a little late for that."

"I don't care. You need to find a way to —"

"No."

You stared across the table at him. "No?"

"No," he repeated. "You're mine now, so you need to get used to it. I didn't force you into this, sweetheart, and I sure as shit didn't trick you."

"Sweetheart?" You repeated. "You listen to me; I'm not and will never be yours. I'm my own fucking person and —"

"Not according to the law."

The smile on his lips made your stomach turn. He was right. Worse, you knew he was right. He was an alpha, and you were just an omega, and the claiming mark on your neck meant something. It meant that you were his.

"So, what? You're gonna force me to be with you?" You asked through gritted teeth.

For whatever reason, that got a reaction from him.

"No. I would never force you to do something you didn't want."

"You already are," you said. You waited for a response but got none. "Why are you here? I won't change my mind. I don't want an alpha."

"We rushed things last night," he said, slipping back into that easy and controlled tone, "but I'm a man who always gets what he wants." He sat back and you said nothing. "I want you, omega. I'll do whatever it takes to win you over."

"How are you gonna do that?"

"I'm going to be here, in your life. You're not going to shut me out."

Realising that he was insane and unwilling to see reason, you pushed back your chair and got to your feet. The moment you turned to walk away, he stopped you.

"Don't forget your lunch, omega."

It took every ounce of restraint not to throw your drink over him as you grabbed your mug and plate, and stormed off to sit in the back room.

A/N : 😅 I hope you're all ready for the drama. If you missed the other posts about this fic, it's going to be shorter and much faster paced (about 3/4 chapters in total). This is the first thing I've written entirely in Ellipsus so if the formatting seems weird that might be why (also the spell check on ellipsus is weird, but I think I caught most typos). Anyway, how you all had a great two weeks. (I spent my break from writing having an existential crisis about my writing thanks to booktok drama, so I'm glad to be back posting weekly 😅😅)

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

Tag list : @themusingofagothicsoul @oliviaewl @snowkestrel @xoxabs88xox @mrsalwayswrite

Chapter Five

Tears started falling long before Felix had a chance to open his mouth — somewhere between your hand slipping from Billy's and the step back you had taken. It was a natural and inescapable reaction to being so suddenly confronted with your past. All the happiness you'd managed to find in the last couple of weeks — not to mention in the last hours — fizzled to nothing, and all that remained was a heavy feeling of dread in your chest.

Billy's eyes caught yours as Felix spoke, and you knew that you were about to lose something special.

But, if you were going to lose him, you were going to be the one to walk out first. You weren't going to let him see you crumble. You didn't have a lot of dignity, but the little you had saw you to the elevator, and you didn't take your first gasped breath until after the doors had slid shut.

After that, there was no escaping the spiral, no keeping yourself from sinking into the endless darkness.

By the time you made it out onto the street, your eyes were bleary with tears and you felt a weight on your chest, keeping you from breathing.

You were easily swept up in the mid-afternoon crowd, lost in the noise and flow of people, just trying to hold yourself together. Every step taking you further from Anvil and further from Billy.

You didn't stop until you found a little park four blocks away, and your legs all but gave out as you reached a bench. Desperate to block out the world around you, you pulled your knees to your chest and hid your face in your folded arms, and let the panic take hold.

But, no matter how tightly you closed your eyes, you couldn't lose yourself entirely. You could still see Billy's face — the way he'd smiled at you in his office, the fondness in his eyes as he'd pulled you close. All you could think about was how you'd never see him again.

And it broke something inside you.

It had only been a few weeks, but it had been so long since anyone had looked at you the way Billy did, years since anyone had cared for you.

Now he was going to find out how much of a burden you were.

Cold and damp started to seep into your clothes and wet your hair — it was raining, but you couldn't bring yourself to lift your head, let alone move. You didn't even know how long you'd been there, minutes or hours. It didn't matter. Nothing really mattered anymore.

So, when someone sat beside you, you didn't even try to pull yourself together enough to hide the fact you were falling apart.

"Sweetheart..."

You didn't expect an arm to wrap around you, or to be pulled against a familiar body. But, when you finally moved, it wasn't to protest or pull away, it was to press your face into the damp fabric of his coat and lose yourself in his scent. His hold tightened as sobs started to rack your body.

"It's okay," he murmured against the top of your head. "I'm here. I've got you."

"I — I — I'm s-sorry," you managed through awkward, heaving breaths.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he answered, holding you tighter still.

You shook your head but couldn't catch your breath enough to say any more.

It didn't make sense that he was there, that he had found you and was holding you, but you didn't want to question it. Regardless of hows and whys, you wanted it. You wanted Billy there with you. Part of you even dared to hope he was telling the truth, that he genuinely thought you had nothing to apologise for. (Did that mean he hadn't spoken to Felix at all after you left?)

"You're freezing," he muttered, starting to rub his hand up and down your back, trying to bring some of the heat back to your body.

You were vaguely aware that the rain was falling harder, but you couldn't move — you didn't want to lose the feeling of his arms around you, too scared that it would be the last time.

All that mattered was Billy holding you.

Your fingers clung to his coat as he eased you to your feet and, somehow, got you to start walking. He kept you held against him, shielding you from the world, and managed to get you to his car. Refusing to let go, you were pulled onto his lap.

As the car pulled away, you continued to tremble and sob on his lap, and he kept hold of you.

Billy flexed his fingers and felt the telltale ache across his knuckles. Seeing the state of you now had him wishing that he'd done more than just punch Sullivan. Finally, everything about you was starting to make an awful sort of sense to him and, for the first time since meeting you, Billy wished that he knew less.

It was no wonder you questioned every little act of kindness when you'd had a prick like that in your life for so long.

He found himself playing the conversation with Sullivan on repeat in his mind, looking for anything he might have missed, anything else he might need to know to help you.

Felix Sullivan had the audacity to look sympathetic, as if he'd just rescued Billy from something and not scared you away.

As the elevator door slid shut, spiriting you away from him, Billy was torn between trying to follow after and getting to the bottom of what had just happened. He knew there was no way of getting to you, at least not straight away, so —

"You," he said, taking a menacing step towards Sullivan," start talking."

"I'm sorry," Sullivan said, not seeing to grasp the precarious situation that he'd found himself in. "We used to date — back in high school, then she followed me to New York —" funny, you'd told Billy that you'd wanted to go to Yale but your boyfriend had convinced you to follow him to NYU. "We broke up in our second year and she got crazy."

Billy took a slow breath, trying to keep his temper, but he didn't like Sullivan calling you crazy.

"Crazy how?"

"She went full-on stalker, wouldn't leave me alone. She kept turning up," Sullivan said, still completely oblivious to the fact that he was the bad guy in the situation. "She broke into my apartment and I had to call the cops on her. I got a restraining order, but she shows up every few months. Look, I'm sorry. Whatever she said to get in here, it's not —"

Billy's eyes narrowed, his mind racing over what he knew about you, everything he'd witnessed. You weren't some crazed stalker — especially not for a prick like him.

"Why?" Billy asked. Sullivan shot him a confused look. "Why did she go crazy?"

Finally, Sullivan realised that Billy wasn't on his side and took a prudent step back.

"I don't know. We broke up, then her family died — I guess she had a hard time dealing with it, and she didn't exactly make herself a lot of friends when we came to New York," Sullivan shrugged. "But she was always a little fucked up, even when we were kids."

"Why did you break up?" Billy asked, though really what he wanted to know was why you'd been with a piece of shit like him to begin with.

"Like I said, she's always been fucked up, but we came from a small town," Sullivan shrugged again and dared a smile, trying to win Billy over. "When you're from a place like that, if you want to get your dick wet, you've got to be prepared to fuck crazy. But New York? New York has more choice, more —"

He didn't get to finish the thought before Billy's fist collided with his nose. Sullivan's head snapped back and he reeled into the wall. It was a good hit, just the right spot to cause a satisfying crunch and a gush of blood. The second punch was just for good measure, just because he could.

Sullivan stared at Billy, the wall at his back the only thing keeping him on his feet. It took him a second to even really register what had happened. Before he could speak or even think about trying to staunch the blood flowing from his nose, Billy said his piece.

"If I ever hear you've been anywhere near her again, I'll kill you," Billy said, his voice low. "If I hear you've even mentioned her name in conversation, or called her crazy again, I'll kill you."

He gripped Sullivan by the collar and dragged him towards the elevator. The doors opened and he shoved the other man inside, and followed after.

"Tell your boss to send someone else if he wants a contract with Anvil," Billy continued. "If you try to complain or tell anyone I broke your nose, I'll see to it that you never work in New York again. Do I make myself clear?"

Of course, Sullivan agreed — men like him always did. Fucking coward.

After that, Billy had checked the tracking app he'd put on your phone and quickly found where you'd ended up. It almost destroyed him to see the state you'd ended up in, hiding from the world while you cried. He'd failed you, and knew that he needed to fix it. He wanted to make sure you never felt lost or alone again.

On the ride back to your apartment, you slowly settled in his arms. You were still trembling, still taking those shuddering breaths, but the sobs had subsided. When he finally managed to get you to lift your face from his chest, he hated how familiar the exhausted look on your face was.

How many times had he seen you looking so tired? And how many times had he believed you when you told him you just hadn't slept enough?

He allowed himself a couple of minutes to wallow in his failures before doing what he did best; started formulating a plan to fix everything.

The first step was getting you upstairs and into your apartment.

Garfield gave a bemused meow at the sight of you, not used to seeing you home so early. The ginger cat followed as Billy led you to your bedroom and quickly got you out of your wet clothes and into bed. He stripped and climbed in behind you. Sensing your distress, Garfield jumped onto the bed and snuggled against your chest, while Billy pressed himself against your back.

Your cold skin quickly started to warm and, after some of the longest minutes of Billy's life, the tension slipped from your body and you fell asleep.

Hours passed before you stirred again, pressing yourself back against him and letting out a sleepy sigh.

Then you tensed, remembering where you were and what had happened. Before you could pull away, Billy pressed a kiss to your shoulder, letting his lips linger against your skin.

"It's okay," he told you. "Everything is okay."

You were silent for a beat, then; "is it?"

He hated that you had to ask, that the situation had left you so shaken that you were questioning him.

"Yes," Billy answered without hesitation. "Whatever happened between you and him is in the past. It doesn't matter to me."

Taking a shuddering breath, you turned to face him, your eyes betraying your lingering exhaustion as they searched his for any sign he was lying.

"You're mine," he said in an effort to settle any remaining doubts. Then he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. "You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to and Sullivan... he won't cause you issues ever again."

"W-what happened? What did he tell you?"

Billy considered lying, but that didn't seem fair. He had been given a peek at your deeper layers, it was only fair you got the same. "I punched him — he called you crazy, and I'm not going to let anyone talk about you like that."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull away. "You... hit him?"

"I did. I lost my temper, but I'm not sorry. He deserved it."

You were silent for almost a minute, just staring into his eyes, but he didn't push you to speak, didn't try to demand you understood or forgave what he'd done. He gave you time and all the patience he had, because he knew it was something you'd been sorely lacking.

"I... I wasn't stalking him," you said softly, your eyes drifting away from Billy. "He was just... all I had left after.. after..."

"After your family died?" Billy offered.

You nodded. "He wanted to come to New York, and he always wanted me around, so I never had the chance to meet people or make new friends..."

"What changed?"

"I didn't want to go out all the time... it was exhausting trying to manage my classes and all the parties. I — I started to struggle. I almost had to drop out, and that just made everything worse," there was a tremor in your voice, and Billy promised himself that if he ever saw Sullivan again, he'd do more than just punch him. "I told him it was too much, I asked him to help and stop pushing me and he... he said I was a burden..."

Billy tenderly brushed your hair away from your face and shook his head. "He should've taken better care of you."

"After... I found out that my family... I went to him... I just wanted to see him. I needed someone to talk to, someone who knew them. He told me he was busy, that we could go for coffee sometime..." you fell silent as a tear rolled down your cheek. "I went to his apartment one night — I didn't mean to break in but it was snowing, and I was so cold. He always used to hide a key under the mat, so I let myself in..."

"He found you there?"

"Him... and his new girlfriend..." you said. "When she asked who I was, he lied and told her we'd broken up months before when we hadn’t, and she made him call the police. And then —"

Billy didn't need to hear any more. He pulled you closer and held you tight. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I don't want you to think I'm too much," you murmured against his neck. "I don't want to lose you too."

"You won't. I promise you won't," he told you.

You stayed like that, wrapped up in each other for another couple of hours. Exhaustion claimed you again while Billy remained awake, listening to every gentle breath you took. He tried to ignore his anger, to silence the part of him that wanted Sullivan dead for how he had treated you — if he did anything, he would need to be careful about it and make sure none of it put suspicion on you.

The sun had already started to set when you stirred again and, as much as Billy wanted to let you sleep, you needed to eat. And so did he.

More importantly, so did Garfield.

The cat had disappeared for a few hours while you slept, but returned the moment he heard movement. A displeased meow heralded his arrival in the bedroom and had you getting out of bed to feed him.

Billy followed after, pulling on his boxers as you wrapped yourself in a robe. In the kitchen he stood behind you, winding an arm around your waist as you measured Garfield's kibble.

"Do you have a carrier for Garfield?" He asked, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Of course. Why?"

"Because once you've fed Garfield, you're going to go into your bedroom and start packing."

"Packing for what?"

"You and Garfield are moving in with me."

His arm stayed around you as you turned to face him, something between shock and confusion on your face.

"You want us to move in with you? Tonight?"

"We'll start tonight," he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Then tomorrow I'll arrange for a moving company to come and get the rest of your things."

"But..." you started and stopped.

"What?" He gently prompted, wanting to know if you had a genuine objection.

"We've only known each other a few weeks, are you sure you want..."

"Am I sure I want you in my bed every night and every morning?" He asked. Without warning, he lifted you onto the kitchen counter, and placed himself between your legs. "Am I sure I want to be able to wake you up with my tongue every single morning?"

His hands pulled at the tie of your robe and you let it slip from your shoulders, leaving you completely naked. Fingers ghosted down your body, over your breasts and stomach to the apex of your thighs. A soft gasp tore from you the second his fingertips grazed your clit.

"Why wouldn't I want you to live with me?" He asked as his fingers started to trace slow, teasing circles over the little bundle of nerves. "Why wouldn't I want you at my beck and call every time I want to touch you or fuck you?"

Your hands gripped his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin.

"You're mine, of course I want you to live with me," he continued.

His words and his touch had heat burning through your body, and he soon had you exactly where he wanted you; wet and needy for him.

It started with a shift of your hips, a desperate and uncontrollable movement; your body trying to press closer, wanting more from him. Billy let his fingers dip lower, between your folds to your entrance, teasing you. A keening sound spilled from your lips as he toyed with you, almost slipping his fingers in but pulling them back at the last moment and returning them to your clit.

Your hips jolted again, and Billy just smiled fondly at you. Maybe he hadn't known you long, but it had been long enough for him to figure you out. He knew how to tease you just as well as he knew how to please you — now he was going to make sure you knew it too.

The longer it went on, the louder the sounds escaping you became, starting with little whimpers and turning into desperate moans. After five minutes, you were a trembling mess on the counter, your grip on his shoulders almost tight enough to cause him pain.

"Please," you finally gasped, unable to take the torment any longer.

Billy almost didn't want to stop — at any other time, he probably wouldn't have — but it had been a long day, and this wasn't about submission or proving a point. No, this was about showing you that he was in control and he knew exactly what he wanted.

"Please what, sweetheart?" He asked, his fingers continuing to tease. "Do you want me to make you come? Do you want me to show you how good I can make you feel?"

"Yes," you answered instantly. "Please."

He rewarded you just as quickly, sliding two fingers into the heat of your body. You cried out his name and it was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever heard. He wanted to make you moan and cry and scream with pleasure. He wanted to make you feel so good that you forgot all about anything bad that had ever happened to you.

The teasing pace was replaced by purposeful strokes of his fingers, easily sinking down to the knuckle.

"You got so wet for me, didn't you?" He muttered.

"Uh-huh..."

His lips crashed into yours, igniting a hungry kiss that was more than enough to push you over the edge. Your body shook and trembled as Billy swallowed your moans. You were so lost to the sensations that you barely noticed Billy's fingers slipping from your body, until you felt him replace them with his cock.

"Fuck," he groaned, filling you to the hilt as you came. "You feel so fucking good, so fucking perfect."

Your fingernails broke skin, but Billy didn't flinch, didn't falter. He started to fuck you, hands gripping your hips, holding you in place so that he could set the pace, so he could be in complete control.

"Billy," you moaned. "Billy... Billy..."

Over and over, like his name was a prayer. He was desperate to answer that prayer, to give you anything and everything that you wanted. Billy didn't care if things were happening too quickly, too soon — he'd never wanted anyone the way he wanted you.

He kissed you again to keep himself from saying any of it, from telling you about the feeling deep inside of him that already wanted to keep you forever, the part that would fight for you, kill for you. And, when his lungs started to straight, his lips moved to your neck, trailing kisses down to your bare breasts.

Your back arched, offering yourself to him as lips and tongue teased your nipples.

It didn't take much before you were coming again, and Billy quickly followed suit, unable to keep himself from falling apart when he felt your hands slip from his shoulders and your nails racked down his chest.

You inhaled sharply at the sensation, just like you did every time he spilled inside you. He grinned as he lifted his head, and felt you wrapping your legs around his waist, wanting to keep him close. His arms went around you, and he held you just as tight, both of you slowly coming down from your highs.

"Yes," you murmured softly, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"I want to move in with you."

"Good, we'll —"

A loud, impatient meow cut him off, and both of you looked down to see Garfield standing at Billy's feet.

You looked at Billy, then you both started to laugh. With a shake of his head, Billy pulled away from you and helped you down from the counter. You redid your robe, gave Billy one last little smile, then turned to finish getting Garfield's food. Once the dish was on the floor, the cat completely forgot that the pair of you existed.

You took hold of Billy's hand and led him back into the bedroom with the intention of grabbing Garfield's carrier and starting to pack a bag. Instead, you ended up fucking again. And, when you were done, you laid at an awkward angle across the bed, your head resting on Billy's chest.

"Do you think he's finished eating yet?" Billy asked, glancing towards the door.

"Yeah... but he might need another half hour before we put him in the carrier..."

"Are you suggesting that we fuck again?"

"Maaaybe," you answered, barely holding back a laugh.

"You're insatiable..."

It took another two hours before you were ready to leave; you carried Garfield in his carrier while Billy carried a suitcase filled with all the things you'd need in the next couple of days.

Billy knew it was crazy, that he was being reckless and irresponsible, but he didn't care. You needed him, and he was starting to realise that he needed you just as much. What he felt when he was with you was like nothing he'd had before, and it wasn't something he could ever imagine giving up. Making you happy, making you feel safe, it made him feel like his life was worth something, and he was going to keep hold of you for as long as he could.

By the time you made it to his penthouse and you'd spent an hour making sure Garfield was happy, you looked exhausted again.

Despite the late hour, Billy ordered a pizza and the pair of you ate before settling in front of the TV. Billy pulled your hand onto his lap and idly ran his thumb across your knuckles, while you rested your head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," Billy said softly. "For agreeing to this..."

"Which part?"

"All of it."

A/N : I'm finally getting back to my normal writing schedule, but with the new dog things are still a little shaky (he's settling in, but he was a stray before he ended up at the rescue, so there's a lot of training to do with him). Like I said, I'm still deciding if this is finished or not. I have scenes that I have half-finished but I liked the ending of this chapter? So, I don't know... let me know in the comments, I guess? If I do finish this, I might try to get through the last of my smutober requests and repost the poll for my next full length fic? ANYWAY, I hope you're all happy that Billy broke Felix's nose and is considering murdering him.

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will hopefully be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

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