#dark!august walker

Several of you, you don't know how many, were taken from the larger warehouse to this new space. You don't know what it is. It's not as humid or pungent as before, though you feel just as grimy.

One of the women whimpers. Not for the first time. Footsteps, one set bare, the other thickly soled cross the room and the door slams. You flinch as yet another squeaks.

"Shut up," a man growls.

You keep your head down and twine your fingers together. The most you can do to protect yourself is be silent. You learned that real quick.

When you got there, with a group of maybe three others, one of them refused to be quiet. She screamed and barked at your captors. When the gagged her, she kicked at the walls until they dragged her out and brought her back days later. She didn't make any noise after that. She couldn't eat either. Not anything solid.

Soft sniffles come from one side of you. You haven't cried at all. As scared as you've been, it feels like that would only doom you what good is crying but to give you a headache; or worsen the one you already have from lack of sleep and food.

You sit and wait. That's all you ever do. Every couple of days, you're matched around between men across tarmac you can't see. You never leave the warehouse without your eyes covered and hands tied.

Trapped with you is that old life you don't think about. That quiet existence. You never bothered anyone. Never got in the way. You did all you could to keep to yourself. How could this happen to you?

The door opens again. You can tell the other woman didn't come back. The thick soles stomp around the room. The man whispers to another.

"...not too happy..."

You lock your elbows and close your eyes. You hold your breath as he marches around again. You sense him come close.

"Up," he nudges your leg with his boot.

You don't hesitate, though it isn't easy to get up. You lean forward and get onto your knees. You're dizzy from the suddenly rush of blood.

He grabs your elbow and forces you to your feet. He shoves you ahead. "Walk."

You walk. It's disorienting without your vision. You're pushed and pulled until you're through the door, then angled down the hallway you entered from.

You're stopped again. The man sighs and knocks. He doesn't wait for a response before opening the door. He sneers. "Forward."

You cautiously step ahead, three steps before your escorts grunt tells you to stop. You shiver, the sleep shirt you've been wearing for almost months exposing your thighs and arms. A set of steps approach you and you cower.

There's a noise. The click of a tongue behind teeth. You wince but don't make a sound as someone grabs your chin and turns your head back and forth. The large hand pushes your head up and a hot breath fans over you.

He lets go but grabs you again. Lower down. Two hands grope your chest and you clench your fist around a single finger.

He sniffs and grips your shoulder, spinning you. He clamps down on your waist, then your hips, then gropes your ass. You put your head down in shame. No matter if you want it to end, you can do nothing to stop it.

A rumbling growl makes you gulp. One hand trails up your back to your neck and pinches. The unseen man bends you over, his other hand moving to your hip again. He stands behind you as he squeezes.

There's a hum as he releases you. You stay bent, shaking. You can sense movement but don't react to it.

You're grabbed by your arm and forced uptight. Before you can prepare yourself, your lifted off your feet. You're stomach rests heavy on something thick; a shoulder.

Your accoster turns and your head swims. A hand grips you firmly on one hip, the other on your thigh. You squirm but quickly still yourself. Maybe they're taking you back... Does it matter?

You jostle with the motion of your carrier. Fear courses through you. This is different. You just know it.

You're taken blindly away. You know when you're outside by the warmth of the mid afternoon sunshine. It gives you little comfort.

Finally he stops. There's a click and your body swings of the shoulder. You land on something hard and then you're shut in.

You gasp, the first noise you've made in weeks. Maybe longer. You're great pounds as footsteps hit the tarmac.

"You mean like a payment plan?"

"Something else."

Understanding hits you and your eyes widen. "I can't! It'd be cheating on Ransom!"

"A man who clearly doesn't appreciate you."

"I...I can't..."

"Then he'll stay in prison."

"And...and if I do this, it'll clear the fines? Just like that?"

"Just like that," August purrs.

"Tell me what to do," you sigh, body burning with shame.

August smiles in victory. "Bend over my desk, raise your skirt, and take my cock like a good girl."

You say nothing, frozen in place. August figures you're in shock but when his office door busts open seconds later, he realizes the truth.

"Agent Fowler, Internal Affairs," Nick announces as he enters the office. "Detective Walker, you're under arrest."

In truth, you'd broken up with Ransom after his last bout of trouble with the police. You wanted nothing more to do with him. But Agent Fowler asked for your help with an investigation. He'd seen the way the Detective eyed you up. A chance to put a bad cop in prison and getting to tell Ransom to fuck off again? How could you resist?

Especially with how good Nick made you feel.

NOTE: I'm absolutely devastated that I couldn’t put this out in August; my laptop decided to die on me. I know it's not that big of a deal, but still. So for my sake, let's presume that I did post this in August cuz I'm not waiting until next year.

DIVIDERS: @firefly-graphics

*

You observe him as you slowly twirl your pen around; in between your fingers. He was so unlike any of the other patients you’ve ever had.

He always seems so calm and collected. His attire always put together. His clothes were just as stiff and polished as him. He seems to gravitate more towards a monotone cool palette of blues, blacks, and greys, and if he desires to experiment a little; he’ll try brown or a pale yellow, but that’s about it.

You had been having a hard time, trying to figure out if it was due to his personal likes and dislikes or if he chooses it due to a societal and corporate expectation from men’s fashion, but you dismantled the latter thought quite quickly.

His voice is always loud and clear; it never quivers, and he rarely repeats himself. He always just seems so sure of himself. You suppose that’s why he hated this in the beginning—not that he's so fond of it now, but at least he's moved on from his initial grunts and one-word answers.

It must be an offence to a man like him to presume that he is, quote-unquote, “weak”. That talking about your emotions and difficulties or having regular therapy sessions is only for those who make their way into lunatic asylums. That they; as normal citizens, are better than the others.

Even educated people cannot shroud themselves from the taboo around mental health. You of all people know that very well; you’ve dealt with it quite personally. He reminded you of your father, not just in attitude but also in tone. Both of them carry a patronizing effect in their voice, even through the most simple remarks.

Your father was a man of voice and vigour to whom even the notion of mental health was absurd. His anger, most likely contributing to his denial of most problems. People of his generation tend to be like that, while it is changing—not at the pace you wish it would.

Having a patient who does not even try to get better unnerved you a little. You had never been very persuasive, all you can do is help bring clarity. You tell yourself to keep calm; perseverance is the only way to survive in this line of work.

His eyes land on you, onto your pen, and then above you; on to the clock, you presume. In the beginning his eyes never left it, at least now they only longingly look up half way through the session.

“Well, won't you look at that, doc? Times up,” he says in a tone of farce surprise, as if he hasn’t been yearning for the clock to strike.

You heave a small sigh as a smile forms on your lips; for a man his size, he can be quite childish.

“You know, August, it’s not your job to keep up with the clock; it's mine. Your mind is supposed to be relaxed in here.”

“Of course, I simply wouldn’t want to keep your other patients waiting; you're quite in demand, you know.” Your eyes quirk up in a questioning gaze; he already seems to have anticipated it.

“This generation loves coming in here, they think that you can fix all of their problems. They believe that their minds are broken simply because they can't handle the reality of life,” his voice laced with contempt and disappointment.

“Well anyway, see you next week, doc.” His tone was determined, so you didn’t bother to keep him longer than what was required. Your half-assured goodbye was only met by the creaking hinges of the closing door.

The entire bus ride home, your mind had been preoccupied with him; you nearly missed your stop. To some people, it's just a notion; their rigidity tends to crack from the sides, but he truly believes that all of this is useless, and that’s what makes it all the more difficult. It's not just prejudice; it's a true belief. You have to find a way around this or all your work will go down the drain.

You crack your neck as you walk into your apartment, fatigue taking over your entire body. You’d initially planned on taking a warm, long bath, but now you just want to fill your stomach and pass out. You heat up yesterday's mac and cheese, while it's nothing elaborate; it's enough to fill you up. The low rhythmic whirring of the oven lulls you as you think of all your other patients; you still have to come up with a proper time schedule to alternate between all of them, and then there’s August. You’ve met teenagers who are less adamant than he is, the oven beeps as it snaps you out of your thoughts. The smell of cheese fills you with ease, and you decide not to bring work to the dinner table, you’ll think about it tomorrow.

You walk into your bedroom ready to crash when your eyes land on the bluebells you bought a week ago. You curse yourself for forgetting about it again. None of your indoor plants ever seem to survive, no matter how much you care for them. But the wild ones growing outside your window seem to have no problem flourishing as they grow out through the thin cracks of the wall.

You fill a glass up and move to water the plants. As you lean in, you notice that the soil seems damp; a small crinkle forms in between your brows. You can’t remember watering them this morning, but then again, you did everything in a hurry today. Terrified that you’ll miss your morning bus. You don’t think much of it as you place the glass down. Your bluebells seem to be retaining their colour; you hope this one won't die on you.

A strong thud startles you from your repose; suddenly wide awake, your annoyance turns into dread as you suspect that the noise was coming from inside your apartment—you couldn’t remember if you had locked the front door. Nighttime stirs up the imagination of your ears; as you sit up on your bed, your mind convinces you that you can hear low symphonies mixed in the silence. You're sure that you can hear footsteps outside the room, or was it the creak of the door? You feel goosebumps etch your entire body as you force yourself to take a deep breath.

You slowly get out of bed, careful as to not make any noise. You look around for your phone only to realise that you’d left it on the kitchen table. Now your worry increases even more; you can hear your heart beating in your chest. You’re unsure of what to do. You could simply lock the door to your room, but then what? Wait until the morning? For all you know, it was nothing, simply your paranoid nature freaking out.

Your mother tends to make it a habit of informing you about every single crime activity that pops up on the news; whether you're interested in it or not. Her own fear and paranoia seem to have transmitted onto you in an increasing degree. If you are hopefully alive by tomorrow, you’ll keep in mind to stop watching those missing persons documentary.

You slowly peep out of your room. You look over to the left, slightly straining your neck, only to find the main door locked. You heave a relieved sigh at that. You walk into the kitchen and find your phone on the table just where you had left it. The light from the streetlight fills your kitchen with a low yellow glow as you hear another thud. You look over through the window and see a truck unload some boxes, the noise now you’re certain was from this ruckus. You absent-mindedly wonder if someone new was moving in as you make your way back to bed.

The slow-moving normalcy of everyday life makes you indifferent of others in the daytime, but at night... that’s when every little movement terrifies you. You clutch your handbag around a little tighter, your head spins around every few minutes, and your feet pick up their pace no matter how exhausted you are. A pepper spray bottle has found a permanent residence in your bag. You’ve made a habit to always make sure that your door is closed and locked. You don’t want to admit it, but you're actually a little perturbed after last week's incident, mostly about your own forgetfulness.

You wonder if the stress of it is evident on your face; the raven-haired man in front of you has been rather cooperative today. He answers you without the usual quirky remarks. You wonder if it's due to his own interest in taking these sessions seriously or if it's because of the dark circles that lace your eyes. His eyes landed on your face the second he entered and has remained on them since. He looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it; however, his inquisitive nature could only keep it in for so long.

“Not to be harsh, Doc, but you look like shit. Not getting enough sleep?”

“Sleep has been evading me as of lately, yes.”

“Why?”

“Nothing much, just work.”

“Huh, I didn’t think dealing with a bunch of paper work and people would be that hard; regret signing up for it?,” he says as he crosses his ankle onto his other leg. His condescending baritone reminds you of a familiar one, and you momentarily snap back a “no,” but you compose yourself rather quickly. Deflection—that’s what they all do.

“Every job has its hurdles, August. But we are not here to talk about mine; we’re here to talk about yours.”

“So tell me how’s work?”

“Can’t talk about it; confidentiality agreement, remember?.” He quips.

“Of course, I didn’t mean the intricacies of it. I meant, how does it make you feel? I’m sure working for the government has its own complicacies.”

“Do you enjoy your work? Does it stress you? Do you ever feel like you’ve neglected life?” His jaw clenches at that as his voice turns gruff.

“No, I do what I have to; I’m ready to make sacrifices for my work, and yes, you could say that I enjoy it. In fact, I think it’s the only thing I enjoy in life sometimes...” The last part seems to be a careless whisper, but you catch on to it anyway.

“Well, that’s not very healthy; why? Do you find life outside of work difficult? Stressful?”

“No. I just find it mundane.”

There’s something in his eyes that makes you feel like it's aimed at you rather than the conversation you’re having, but you don’t dwell on it.

The rest of your conversation carries on, and after August’s session, you call onto your next patient. Your greeted by a familiar strawberry blonde; you’d completely forgotten about her.

“Gee Y/N, sometimes I wonder how you even work when you have to deal with a hottie like that fella!.”

“Ha-ha, I survive, Nance. I survive.”

“But seriously, look at him—what an absolute specimen.”

“That he is.”

“Ohhh, I sense tension; is he the grumpy kind?”

“Spot on.”

“Hmm.. well, the hot ones do tend to be like that.”

“So how are the babies?”

“Oh great, its been great as of lately; Charlie said his first words, you know.”

“Ahh, how wonderful!; was it mom?”

The gleam on her rosy cheeks makes the answer apparent. You're so happy to see the girl you’ve now known for two years, who at first meeting was just a gloom of anxiety and sadness. She’s changed so much, and only for the better. You listen to her carefully as she continues; but even then, in the back of your mind, his staring eyes persist.

You huff as you run towards the bus stop, unable to reach on time as you watch your bus leave. You look around; the evening is darker than usual, indicative of the fast approaching winter. You have no idea when the next bus will arrive. This junction being nooked into the corner had fewer buses on this route compared to the main one. So you decide to just walk your way to it.

Your feet ache as your slippers slap onto the road. You should have left the office earlier; it would have spared you the walk. You continue on through the cold night, wrapping your arms around yourself, when you hear a soft snap behind you. You turn around thinking nothing of it, purely based on instinct.

Surprised to find yourself all alone; a tiny part of you is uncomfortable. You start to walk a little faster, restless to reach the bus stop. However, as you turn around a corner, you hear light footsteps behind you; they sound much calmer compared to yours. It means nothing; it’s most likely just somebody walking towards the bus stop, just like you. But your nerves get the best of you, and to ease your mind, you increase your pace. The second you do your followers pace increases as well. They sound much louder now; it puts your heart in a frenzy. You could see the dim light of the bus stop ahead of you. Your body sprints towards it.

You reach the bus stop a little calm now due to the lights that fill the stop; its saxe hue comforts you from the danger your mind intuits. You notice a man asleep on one of the seats. The new-found comfort of the lights and the company gives you the courage to look behind. You come to regret the decision as you feel your heart skip a beat.

A tall shadow stands a few meters away, their figure looming in the darkness. You're unable to see anything but a dark outline; but you suspect it’s a man. Even from afar, his enormous size is terrifying.

You’re so grateful to see a bus approach; you climb into it immediately as its doors buzz open and peep out through the glass window only to find nothing. Nobody’s around except for the man who was asleep on the bench; it's almost as if you had imagined a ghost up. But you know, that was not true because that little heart of yours was still thundering inside you; assuring you that the fear you felt had been very real.

The days ahead had been increasingly difficult, your fear transmuting into insomnia as you lay awake at night petrified of every little noise you hear. The chances of somebody stalking you seem ridiculous, but how many women had believed such and been the victims of an attack?

Your cautiousness skyrocketed these days, and you carried two bottles of pepper spray along with you. You’ve decided to put an installment on a car; your house was not very far away from work but enough to evoke the fear within. You could not rely on the buses anymore; you did not want to end up suffering because of their impunctual timing.

You had been searching through your cabinet to make sure you had all the files that were required. That’s when you found it, it had arrived a week ago; you remember receiving it, but you’d been too busy to check it out. August's health and history files had been finally transferred on to you; you had requested it nearly a month ago.

You skim through the papers, nearly missing it at first, but you reread the part again, and a frown forms in-between your brows. His first mission... he… he’d lied to you.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; all clients lie to a certain extent. Especially during the initial stages of therapy, even when it isn’t a case of "pseudologia fantastica." It's just the initial distress of being vulnerable and the desire to express ones own narrative rather than the truth.

But with August... while you never really thought of it before, now you slightly suspect if August has a case of pathological lying. For some people, it's not about a grand lie; it's about the smaller details. And you're sure it’s the norm in his line of work; the lines between lying and withholding the truth tend to blend pretty soon when one is not cautious. You won't lie; you’re a little disappointed in him, or with yourself; you're unsure.

You don’t know why you thought this conversation would go easily; the clench in his jaw, the anger in his eyes, and the tight grip of his fingers clearly suggested otherwise.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, doc.”

“August please. Let's not waste our time, I know. They sent me your files. I need to have certain knowledge about my patient's history.” His gaze pierces through you at that.

You try your best to approach the topic as softly as you can. “Your mission, your first mission; you weren’t alone; you had a team... and there were casualties. You’d suffered from a severe head trauma too. It was—

“A disaster?” The grimace in his voice was mixed with pain and anger.

“…difficult. Is that why you lied? August I need you to know this is a safe space. I’m not here to judge you; that’s not what we are here to do.”

“You’re a practical person; you know that lying doesn’t help. It simply convinces you that you’ve made progress when, truthfully, you’ve just been stagnant the whole time.”

“I, we, all... all of this,” you say, waving your hand around, “we exist to help you, not to condemn you. You can open up to me; that’s what I’m here for.”

His aggression at that makes you flinch. All you hear is the scraping of his chair, and before you could voice anything, he was gone. No other patient had stumped you the way he had, and when you finally snap out of it and go out in search of him, he’s nowhere to be found.

Your day had gone by uneventfully; August’s departure had been lingering on your mind the whole day. Coming back from work, both your mind and body had been exhausted. You didn’t even bother with dinner, your eyes closing the second you meet the bed.

Your body allowed your mind to sleep for a few hours before the familiar pang of hunger stirred you awake. You turn around and feel your heart clench; an overflow of fear courses through you. Your throat constricted as you whimper; the darkened, sharp outline of the man seated before now moves forward. The small strand of silver moonlight shines onto his face.

“You tend to talk in your sleep, you know.”

Fear paralyses you completely as you stay put. He stands up and walks over to your bed, his entire frame towering over you. He stares at you for a few seconds before flinching away.

One would imagine you were the one who broke into his place to hurt him if they saw him now. The pain etched on his face changes from discomfort to anger. You hear him draw a deep breath in as he composes himself.

“You’re on my mind a lot doc.”

“At first I entertained it, it was just a harmless little fantasy. And you… you’re such a cliché, ” he sighs, “your clothes, your glasses, your office, it doesn’t help.”

“Your table is always meticulously arranged, everything’s always in order, even your stupid post-it notes are colour coded,” he hisses, “I’d wanted to throw everything off of that table and fuck you on it until you were a babbling mess.”

“Not to belittle you doc, but you look like you’d get cock drunk pretty fast.”

He turns toward you, his broad shoulders straightened as he slightly tilts his head

“I’d have my hand around your throat, tight enough for you to barely breath,” he growls, “could make you shut up for once.”

“But then you decided that you wanna fuck with my head. And now I can’t get you out of my fucking mind.”

Your eyes travel towards the door, you could just make a dash for it but he seems to have read your mind. “Don’t even try.”

Your fear overclouds your judgment and you bolt out of the bed, but you barely take three steps, before he grabs onto you and throws you back onto the bed.

“Why do you have to make this so fucking difficult.”

You try again never the less as you smack him. None of this seems to deter him, one of his hand moves to twist your arm around your back. You scream in pain, only to have his other hand warp around your throat. You try to scratch his face, shoulders, neck anything just to make him let you go.

His fingers dig into you harder, his hand now moves around to the back of your neck making you wince “Please,” you whisper as he pushes your face onto you pillow.

“What did you think, you could run away from me? I’m ten times faster that you are. The only way you got away from me is because I let you.”

“Please, please, August. This isn—

You feel him hard against your ass, as he presses himself on to you.

“I didn’t expect you to be begging so soon Y/N, why hurry? we have the whole night for that don’t we.”

Your whole body stills with fear. His hands loosens around you as he’s moves to unbuckle his belt. Suddenly, you sense a rush of energy bloom within you; this might be your only chance.

You use all of your strength to push him away. He slightly looses his balance; just as you use the opportunity to move out of the bed, his hand lands on your ankle making you fall, face flat on to the floor.

You wince as your head and nose pound in pain, your body moving as he turns you around. His hands dig into the flesh of your arms as he looks at you.

“That was your own doing. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can if I wanted to. I can make this really painful for you Y/N, but if you co-operate I’ll go easy on you, understand?”

A slight nod of your head is all you can manage as you hear the sound of your shirt being ripped apart. Your shorts and underpants gone just as easily. Your face ends up on the bed again, as his left arm palms your breast. His other hand moves to coat your cunt with his juices. You feel a rush of disgust and shame course through you.

He rubs his leaking tip on your folds, his teeth gently nipping on your shoulders. He pushes himself into you, your mouth gently  parts as you feel his length inside your body. You hear him curse as pulls you up, your hands extending as you use them to balance yourself.

His hands land on you hip, “shit, your tight. Should have expected that from you.”

He begins to thrust in, slowly at first but then just as he gets comfortable his pace increases. You could hear the sound of his hips slapping into you. The girth of him nearly ripping your core apart. The fabric of his shirt and pants felt like they were made out of small metal pins as they grazed your naked skin.

Your mind still couldn’t believe this was actually happening, your eyes focused onto the movement of the headboard; the bed shaking because of him.

His hand on your hip tightens and as he spills into you, you hear a low carnal moan. You feel him soften inside you as he finally pulls out. You lay down on to your soft sheets— as he lets you go— now stained forever as you feel him trickle down your thigh. You hide your face in the pillow as you feel the tears brim your eyes; you just want to sleep.

“Ah ah, not so fast” he voice carelessly drawls as he pulls you up with your upper arm. He drags you around and before you can wonder where to, he opens the door to your shower.

The expectation is clear in his eyes and as you move in you hear him lock the door. The scalding water helps your mind from dwelling, you don’t want to think about anything right now. You’re more focused on rubbing yourself raw, nearly making your skin bleed as the hot water burning your skin cleans you.

When you come out you’re surprised to find him still there, casually sitting on your chair. He’s tidied himself up, not even a crinkle formed on his shirt unlike your ripped clothes that lay on the floor. Your eyes land on to your bed; they have a new pair of sheets shabbily placed on them. The old ones crumbled, down next to the foot it.

“You should get some rest, your body probably isn’t used to so much work.”

“Now, after you wake up tomorrow your brain will try to come up with ideas to get rid of me. You can try, but let me tell you right now you’ll have to deal with consequences. I can get really, really ugly.”

“It’s not easy to convict people without proof these days. If you try to leave, I will find you and you don’t want that.”

He stands up and walks over to you. You slightly step back, your body moving on its own as he gets closer. His hand moves to lift your head making you look at him.

“I like this arrangement a lot, so be good. We can help each other. So long as you behave I’ll be good to you.” A slight smirk forms on his features “Who knows?, I might just open up to you…doc.”

Author Notes: in my mind and casting, Jude Driver is played by Adam Driver. Wesley Gibson is played by James McAvoy. Brandon Sullivan is played by Michael Fassbender. Katarina Vikander is played by Alicia Vikander.

Inspiring Song: "Woman." by Ke$ha.

10:23am Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.

“These photos Miss Y/L/N, they’re magnificent. I haven’t seen quality this good since…well…never really…When can you start?”

You grinned, sitting across from the head editor of one of the smaller local newpapers.

You knew you had to find a job quickly…you were sick of the employment agency and their unhelpful attitude. You knew if you were going to remain safe and take down the billionaire asshole, you needed to be the best version of yourself.

It had been a three days since you first met that monster... August Walker. And he had seemingly invaded your every thought. He was there in the back and front of your mind haunting and taunting you with his smirking lips and roguishly deep voice.

The gentleman who sat in front of you had no idea. That was something you were okay with, how could anyone know? No one knew. You hadn’t called or replied to any text messages Lloyd had sent.

You made a resume portfolio of your best photos you’d taken since your first camera your dad ever bought you. Both Polaroid and electronic. You still hadn’t forgotten that August had stolen one of your father’s cameras from the day he forced you to cum on the recliner chair.

You knew you were inexperienced in journalism…but your photography was a master skill unlike any other.

Your successful interview, you put it up to a great sense of confidence, as well.

“Right now if you’ll have me,” you winked. He was an older man of an older generation. Clearly he knew and was a deep fan of Australian banter that borderlines the aesthetics of flirtation. You were a young woman and he was an older man, the math was simple. Bat your lashes, pretend to be coy and then slide in with a sarcastic remark or sexual innuendo.

He laughed and leant over his desk. You shook your new bosses hand.

He liked that very much. ‘Of course he would, he’s practically old enough to be someone’s perverted uncle.’

“Oh most definitely…” he said biting his bottom lip, he was milking the banter.

He was a handsome even for a classic perverted elder fellow. John Luther was a grey fox so the ladies might say. You were sure that from now on never to truly trust a man…so when he winked back and looked down your shirt- at your chest, you smiled wider, ‘predictable men…he is going to be easy to manipulate…’

You had to thank August one day…if he hadn’t hurt and humiliated you the way he did…you would never have felt the rage of all women and the desire to use your assets to get what you wanted in this Man’s World.

You sat back a lit and lifted your chest as you gave a big happy sigh while watching Mr Luther continuously ogle your chest.

It sent a shiver even down your spine thinking about it…entering a villainess era…a femme fatale story….a tale of revenge and justice.

“I admire a woman with confidence,” he said sucking his teeth, his right hand slide down beneath his desk out of view. You had half a mind to assume he was palming his dick in his trousers.

“So how about I assign you your first assignment? See how you go? I’ll even let you choose…”

“Choose?” you asked with a faux coyness, fluttering your lashes.

“Well, we have a very interesting story idea in regards to the Woolloongabba Doggy Day care that just moved to East Brisbane, rumour has it that the business is understaffed for the amount of dogs they keep in care. And they only use half of the required sanitization required. A spread of kennel cough and many dogs having their ears ripped off by other larger dogs belonging to rich clients the owner of the doggy day care refuses to lose business towards.”

Oh dear, you noted, that sounded tragic….it’s a good thing you never had a pet as a kid. It would hurt too much to be in that position. Hearing a pet dog had its ear ripped off by savage untrained dogs.

“...And the other case?” You sweetly chirped.

His smile fell, “There’s a certain gentleman that’s running around allegedly smuggling drugs and arm deals…” he repeated, “’Allegedly’…”

He rolled back in his chair to reach for a folder on his bookshelf, flicking through it.

Your craning neck had time to catch the outline of his prick beneath his pants. ‘Oh yes...this man is putty in my hands.’ When he swivelled back, you dashed your eyes back to his desk trinkets and smiled at him.

“A bloke named August Walker selling to or buying from an old money American philanthropist Brandon Sullivan…”

‘No fucking way’….just your luck…

You were going to fucking take it no matter what….

Luther grimaced, “It’s a big task so I won’t judge you for not taking it. I’m just hoping to catch the sons of bitches at it. It would be a huge story for media not even those wankers at seven, nine or ten news could think to report.”

You reached over his desk to steal his pen and stick note pad. You took down the name he mentioned on a sticky note- Brandon Sullivan...you made sure to memorise it well.

“How about we even make those conniving morons at sky news jealous, sir?” You smirked and watched as the rockets soared in his eyes with his white tooth grin.

He laughed hard.

He wiped his hand down his chin, “I love a girl with ambition Miss Y/L/N. I’m sure you won’t disappoint me! The dead line for photos is in a week, he’s having some soiree on next Friday or something so it’s got to be before then because you’re never gonna be able to enter those clubs, chicky. Respectfully.”

You smile and shake his hand again, “Mr Luther, I swear…I’ll give you the best goddamn shots you’ve ever seen of that criminal.”

Now your man hunt had truly commenced, you smiled to yourself. Who knew that revenge could come so easily and quickly…

Luther gave you your own cubicle to work in. A place to hang and edit your photos. A place to file your evidence. He may have mentioned that the work they did in his agency was on par with the police but by no means legally police work. So if the cops arrived, you stayed hidden and kept your fucking mouth shut....

You had a job and began researching the bastards name again on your laptop, compiling the sources from Google and the notes from Luther’s folder files.

You discovered the following about August J. Walker.

He was born in New Jersey. He was twice your age and almost as old as your father. He had a plethora of connections in businesses from alcohol distillery to Chinese restaurant vendings. Actually you were confident that a restaurant he help partnership over had a familiar logo. You tapped your lip and wondered briefly if your father ever delivered there as a truck driver.

August was a fan of European and Asian based foods and sold it at his clubs. He owned over fifteen around the world. One of his biggest in Australia was The Lions Lounge, it was on the edge of Fortitude Valley. It was for the richest social elites of the country. The price of food alone was almost your weeks rent.

On the website of his club you could see information regarding the tightship of his security. It seemed supreme so there wasn’t a chance of you going to his club without a fat purse and invitation.

A party was coming up, a celebration for the ten year anniversary of its opening. A soiree with a “The roaring 1920s.” Theme. You scoffed at the cliché.

It was exclusively invite only, it was only on the website so that those who received a invitation could reply a rsvp. And with you fresh out of luck of an invite like Luther even said, there was little to no chance of clawing your way inside.

So...that’s when you had to resort to extra creativity. You held up the sticky note and smiled.

09:07am Wednesday 14th August 2024, Robertson Brisbane.

August Walker was a man with a craving to remain in power. He had fought tooth and nail to get where he was and for now he felt incredibly comfortable…he had enough money to buy the fucking country...he had the power to make politicians kneel and kiss his shoes if he demanded it. To the police, with his legal team, he was currently untouchable.

He could literally have any woman he wanted…but he wanted you. Since that night he first saw your photo, he starved. He had given you time to mourn. Now you were alone and he righteously believed you needed him.

Yet to his surprised pleasure, he liked the fight and push you tried to dish out on him. Your guts to go to the police sent blood to his cock. He hadn’t expected it. He believed you’d roll over and cry only. He never predicted you’d immediately leave the apartment before he could wish you a good morning or afternoon after leaving you drugged up. He snooped for hours in your father’s bedroom and yours. He’d flicked through your old school reports and photos. He tried tidying your mess and clutter, washing your vomit covered duvet and even had cigarette to pass the time.

So when he received that call from the police requesting his presence, instead of anger, he felt surprise. Not many could surprise him. But you did...

He pushed away from his desk and rubbed his eyes chuckling,  you were definitely a tasty little thing.

It made his dick hard when he remembered you crying beneath him. He loved to fantasise your pathetic excuses and spitfire words. He only wished you’d push the boundary more. The more you fought, the sweeter the submission.

He pulled out his ‘other’ phone. His ‘business’ phone. The phone no police would ever know or see. He swiped his thumb across the screen and groaned at the sweet nude thing he took photos of the night you’d both met. Oh how pitifully adorable you were with your desperate pleas and confusion as the pill quickly broke down into your blood stream.

He wished he had a video of it. How he teased your phone away from you. How he mocked you. Half of it he imagined you probably didn’t remember. After all it wasn’t long that you were totally out of it, limp and softly snoring.

He liked how much control he had over you. Laying the strips over your hairy body and tearing it away to be baby smooth as he liked it. How delicate you looked as he rubbed the baby oil into your skin to settle any potential irritation. Perhaps it was sick of him to prefer you like this. He sighed, licking his bottom lip, staring at the photo he took of your freshly waxed pussy.

He had done sicker things to other people. But you were someone who didn’t deserve this. That is where the guilt lied. You didn’t deserve this and August Walker fucking new it deep in his bones.

He wasn’t shy of hurting innocence but your situation was different. This was personal.

So really could he hold it against you for going to the police? No... And besides...his false alibi had been solid... especially after the rape kit evidence had been tampered with, concluding as inconclusive...

Something about the thought of making you submit but never fully breaking, constantly challenging him- turned him on so much, he found it impossible to work. He slapped his phone down and chewed the inside of his cheek while he considered calling up Natalie, one of his go to escorts. His payable whores. She was expensive but she knew how to suck him off to completion quickly and he wanted to focus on work and finalising the details of his party in two days, not on you.

As fate would have it….he wouldn’t have a choice…the phone rang on his desk.

He pressed the reviewer to his ear and turned to look out the window.

“Walker.”

“It’s Gibson.”

He smiled and leaned back in his rolling chair, “Ah Wesley, yes, how are you mate?”

“You’ve got a little problem, sir,” he heard his public relation specialist sigh, “A tail.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sending the email now,” the click clack typing of the keyboard echoed in the headset Wesley wore,” It seems the paper has started to find better journalists…”

The email notification came in quickly. The ping from his monitor forced August to spin around in his chair. He pursed his lips and scrolled to click the link.

He hovered the mouse arrow down and noticed the collection of photos taken of him in the high class restaurants talking with a old underworld buddy of his. Some of the images however were incredibly exposing. His hand was shaking Brandons in one when he made a export deal with him, another photo showed August’s fingers touching a contract, his eyes looking at a phone Brandon was holding with images of guns. This was not good at all…

“What the fuck…” his hand pressed to his lips, he mused, “The photographer was smart, he knows how to pick a decent angle, Jesus what camera took this?” He clicked another photo, “These details…you can practically see every pore on Brandon’s bloody face…”

His mouth felt dry. He knew he needed to hire Natalie’s services now, the stressed building up had him tense. His erection had vanished, now it was a matter of pain in his shoulders and back.

He scrolled further and stared at the headlines jumping out. “Playboy or Pathological Criminal.”, “Party King or King Pin.”, “Australia’s own insider terrorist.”

His eyes widened at seeing the publishing office. John Fucking Luther & Co. News.

His jaw cracked with the tightness he clenched. No. He didn’t have time for this shit.

“She, sir,” The lackey corrected, “Newest of Luther’s flock. His word usually isn’t credible but this? This is going to be hard, expensive press to erase or cover up. Other news outlets are fighting over the rites.”

She...

He picked up a pen and clicked the button. Why was it even that important.

She...

She? His eyes sharpened. He looked closer at the photos on his screen. Something about the photo style reminded him of something earlier he had seen the previous week. So many….on a wall…beside a bed…filled with a captivating woman he defiled…but surely not you? Surely not you...

“What did you say?”

“Sir the cost to-”

He shook his head and sighed into the phone, cutting of the agent, “No, no, I meant the photographer. You said ‘she’? Luther? Are you sure this is real? His lot are the worst, always blurry or grainy if they’re lucky…who the fuck is this new photographer or editor or whoever the fuck is getting these images.”

“We can only assume,” Wesley mumbled, “You’ve had this little thing on your tail for the passed few days, she tries to be sneaky we’ve noted. We didn’t expect her to release decent pictures…we followed her back to the Luther office. The angles fit the locations we have caught her in.”

His thumb pressed hard against the pen.

“Show me this bitch,” he growled under his breath.

Another email ping and a link later, your face filled the computer screen. Your eyes burned him right back…you were in a few photos. Some where you hid among a roof top, another you were hiding in a corner at the restaurant, and finally one where you were just in a park looking down at your camera probably going over the shots you’d taken.

“Want us to deal with her, sir?” he suddenly heard Wesley ask. Deal with her...Destroy her reputation...beat her up…sell her…or kill her....no…no...not his new puppy.

He blinked with bewilderment and hummed, “No...” He cleared his throat, “No, no thankyou, Wesley. I know this kid; don’t worry…” he smirked, “This is just a simple misunderstanding…bit of…play. Trust me.”

Oh how he could’ve whipped the skin from your back raw for this if you were anyone else...

“Sir, if you can’t get her to stop, if she’s going to keep doing this…” Gibson warned, “Anything more in depth- you’ll wind up in court or prison at the worst, the pigs aren’t taking the pay like they used to…”

August shook his head and sighed, “It wouldn’t be the first time Wesley. Ignore her. I’ll deal with it. She’s my responsibility.”

His public relations officer seemed to pause for a moment. As if he had something else to say but he knew better than to total talk back to August Walker.

“Alright sir, have a good evening,” August heard before he slapped the phone, hanging up.

He scooted closer to the screen and scrolled back at the photos you’d taken. He bit his lip and chuckled, shaking his head at your profiling photo, “You little-...you want to play this game? Fine, now it’s my turn.”

He began dialling up a new phone number. He held it back up to his ear and waited for the receiver to pick up.

“Jude mate, I’m gonna need you to develop some photos for me...oh yes,” he replied pinching the pen in his hand, “Red room style.”

06:19pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba, Brisbane.

“Who needs a man? Huh!” You said to yourself testing out the new bolts and chain locks you installed on the front door. They rattled and locked. They didn’t budge when you jiggled the handle and pulled. You still had three more you planned to drill in.

You wiped the sweat off your forehead and grinned proudly. This is something your dad should have taught you how to do. Thankfully with the help of a YouTube tutorial and a bit of bravery you managed to take full control and ownership of your front door.

If your new landlord wanted to charge you for damages to his door, so be it, as long as this kept you protected from him while you slept at night that was all that mattered. He’d either have to pick every complicated lock, guess or, he’d have to hire the damn firefighting crew to use a battering ram.

When you opened the door again to test it a second time, a squeak of surprised popped from your lips. You clenched your dad’s power tool tightly.

A man in a black suit and black sunglasses stood outside the door with an large yellow envelope in his hand. He held it out to you silently. He looked ominous and familiar, he wore leather gloves…your eye widened, he was August’s driver.

You glanced between him and his hands. Every second was a risk you weren’t sure you could keep taking. You hesitantly pinched the bottom of his flat package and he let go. He pulled the edge of his sunglasses down his face, looking at the plethora of door locks.

‘What was his name again? Judea, Judas?’

He said quietly, “It might be better if you open it inside...” his eyes glanced at the door again before smirking, “Nice locks...pretty crappy if you think it’s going to stop him though.”

‘Him...August Walker...’

You stood still in shock. He gracefully spun on his heel and left. Your tongue caught in your throat…what the fuck was this?

The package was as thick as your hand.

You had to know it was from August…I mean who else could it be from? Especially since you speculated it was his driver that delivered it…especially since there was a massive cursive ‘A.J.W’ on the tab of the envelope.

You held your breath and walked hurriedly backwards inside.

Your teeth caught your upper lip. You slammed the door shut and locked all the locks before going to the couch, disposing the drill on the coffee table, and tearing open the envelope.

You pinched the top wide open and hovered your eyes inside. There was a white papery page ripped out from a note book. You pulled it out and unfolded it to read his handwritten warning.

“Careful Puppy, you’re lucky my men didn’t bite when they sniffed you out, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I think you need a break from your little hobby. So I’m going to remind you...I have copies of these. Scratch me again and I’ll bite back. Stay down or I will put you down.”

Your mouth became dry as your eyes raced over that one last line again.

‘Stay down or I will put you down.’

When you ‘put down’ an animal, it usually means death…your insides grew cold. You were confident this was a strict warning, not a threat but a promise, August walker was telling you to stop investigating or he would kill you…

Your hands shook uncontrollably. You wanted them to stop. Your body felt the reeling anxiety. You dumped the rest of the envelope over the counter. All the content spilled across the entire floor. A camera came clattering out. Your father’s camera in fact.

Inside were photos of you. A photo of you working in the editor office. A photo of you walking in the deli section at the underground Woolworths grocery store and photos of you sitting at the Queen street bus station, even the bus numbers showed up. The bus 200 via Carindale. Then at the bottom of the spread out deck of photos were the shots from the night he forced you to cum on the recliner and the night he had drugged you, naked on his bed.

Your teeth clenched hard.

You felt your eyes grow hot quickly with tears. You didn’t like how pathetic and helpless you appeared, covered in tape, and totally lost in the bliss of his sexual torture. You didn’t realise how sweaty it had made you until noticing the intense wet shimmer over your body in the photo, the hot light of the camera shone reflectively from your skin.

You closed your eyes and choked on a sob. He made his point loud and clear but it wasn’t fair. Why could he get away with all of this? You wanted to tear all the photos up one by one until they were tiny papers the size of your pinky nail.

But they sat in a piled collection on your coffee table.

Your hand cupped your mouth as you fought your wails. You clenched your teeth and stomped your foot.

You kept rereading his note. Memorising his handwriting. His Y’s had a straight tail that didn’t curve upward. It made you hate him twice as much as irrational that detail was.

August hadn’t come back since then. He had not made any personal contact since he cornered you in your father’s bedroom. It wasn’t the last time you saw him though…you saw him almost daily, but you confidently were sure he never saw you until now. You were gathering all the evidence possible to put him in the doghouse...

You pressed yourself against the wall and slid down it on your back until your bottom hit the floor.

Now what would you do? Take photos and write about abused animals instead? Always worrying about August coming into your home to take his revenge for the humiliation and defamation you brought to his name?

You settled your hands into your lap. Your heart was pounding. You could hear every awful thud.

Your phone came to life. Lloyds number ran across your screen.

‘Oh god, Lloyd. Sweet, wonderful Lloyd. Maybe he could help me.’

Hitting the green button, you picked up the phone and cleared your throat, “Hey, how are you?”

His voice was a cool balm, “I’m getting on alright. I thought I’d call and check up on you. You haven’t been very chatty over text is all. I still think you should move Y/N.”

Lloyd kept you as updated as he could. He said he interviewed August a few days ago and the excuse was laughable. August had lied about being at his club during the time he had been with you. He had staff members who could vouch for him, Lloyd suggested they’d been paid off and supposedly security footage, all which Lloyd assured must’ve been edited. It was comforting knowing out of everyone, Lloyd stayed true in his belief that you were a victim.

Another tear rolled down your face, your voice became shaky, “Yea...I think you’re right. Lloyd...things have been happening...and...can you- can you just come over please?”

You were breaking down hard and couldn’t stop the wave of anguish coming over you. The detective was compassionate and said softly, “Of course. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

When the phone disconnected you rubbed your face and flared your nostrils. Seeing the photos made you feel dirty, unclean. You decided a quick shower before Lloyd arrived might help you relax and calm down from the absolute panic attack creeping under your skin. You stood under the hot spray and tried to control your breathing.

And under the water your thoughts persisted to race. A particular question shot through you.

‘Why would he even send those to me?’ Your eyes shut. ‘Why’? If you were just some women, he liked to fuck and humiliate... ‘Then why didn’t he just come in and do it in person?’

It was like a pin had dropped. Your eyes flashed wide open, and you turned off the water. You scrubbed your face and got out of the shower, rushing to put your pyjamas on. You almost slipped on the tiles and hard wood.

You crashed to your knees at the coffee table and spread the photos around trying to find that one.

The one where you were sitting inside the editor building at your cubicle. It had been taken from a low angle on the street. A small laugh escaped you. If he sent you an image of you at the office he knew where you worked, and who you worked for…he had read your articles...a light laugh escaped your parting lips. Tears dripped from your eyes, not from grief or fear, oh no, it was relief. Now it made sense.

'Of course!' August had read your articles...and they- you chuckled; they frightened him!!! Yes, maybe not to the extent of full fear, but enough that he felt it fit and necessary to send these too you. He felt threatened. The articles were piling up on speculation against him now in the paper. You were walking a thin line between defamation and creative liberties in alleged speculations, but Mr Luther assured it was legal in the laws of journalism and gossip.

If August had copies of your lewd rape photos, if he published them…you didn’t care...what was the point in caring about that?

You knew humans could be animals. It didn’t matter what was seen. Anyone can masturbate to anything, even just a selfie – so an image of you cumming on the recliner chair was really nothing at the end of the day…sure you might lose your job but the confidence to get you there would be used in the future again. And it would be all worth it just to watch the cuffs slap over August’s wrist. Because even if he’d never go away, locked up for your abuse, you could at least drag him further down with as many criminal activity charges as possible.

You glanced at the note he wrote…maybe he didn’t even write this. If he really wanted you dead, you were sure you would be. This wasn’t a threat, this was a game. He was toying with you, clearly trying to scare you into stopping any investigations of his hidden underground work.

Little did he know, he had no idea that your rage and hunger for revenge was greater than your fear of him.

You pinched a photo to the light and smirked. If only a week ago, this poor defenceless girl knew how her life would change for good...her eyes the mirror of yours. You slapped it flat in the table and pinched your eyes. August was definitely no talent in taking photos.

You smiled recalling how Luther reacted to the first photo you brought him the third day of working...

02:36pm Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.

On the sticky note you’d written down a name Mr Luther had shared. You looked up that name, Brandon Sullivan, with deep dive searches and found very little of him…however he did have a single photo up on his Facebook, he was holding a gorgeous woman.

Once you had reversed search the woman’s face, Katarina Vikander, you could have peed with excitement. She was some Swedish ballet dancer and super model. She was Brandons girlfriend. And she was happy to share a dozen photos over all her social media platforms…and yes, Brandon clearly wasn’t a fan of his personal paparazzi, but there were hiccups in his cover ups.

Katarina had taken a selfie on a balcony; her sunglasses reflected her phone and Brandon coming out of their hotel bathroom.

Behind Katarina was a marina in the background. That area was very rich and popular and easy to find. You recognised the area only by chance. The were staying at the JW Marriot Gold Coast Resort and Spa. You could see the JW Marriot logo on a bath robe in a previous photo while she wore a creamy face mask with cucumber slices over her eyes.

Katarina seemed to have this obsession with a Americana aesthetic, her favourite artist was in her saved Instagram stories, Lana del Rey.

The caption of her post with Brandon hidden in the background under a broad brim hat said, “Sunny and happy with my love, he doesn’t like the seafood here, he wants ‘real truffles.’ **eyeroll emoji**”

You remembered how you sat back after seeing that and searched every restaurant in the area of the Gold Coast region and only one sold authentic truffle dishes…men are fickle and usually won’t try new things…he was clearly a man set in his ways if he wouldn’t let her post photos of him. or at least that was your theory and assumption about the almost non-existent Brandon Sullivan.

You went back and searched August. He had a decent amount of information, he was very private however, no named girlfriends or family. He was very business oriented….and what did you know? Two years ago on his LinkedIn profile you could see August had been at the opening of the same little truffle restaurant nearby where Katrina and Brandon were staying. You scrolled.

‘Looks like he was or still is an investor.’

It wasn’t solid evidence, and you didn’t know if August would be there to meet with them…so all it took, was a simple phone call…and the great skill of confidence with a stride of lying.

As the phone dialed, you selected a fake name. Your co-worker had a F.R.I.E.N.D.S coffee mug, and you stared at the dark drink stain…it’s dark colour making a perfect name.

When a staff member of the restaurant answered you hurriedly got through your plotted lie, “Hello? Yes, my name is…Jennifer Brown, I’m Mr August Walkers new assistant…listen his last employee was quite begrudged and threw out all the known appointments Mr Walker was to attend in the next three months. I’m pretty sure he has a table booked for your restaurant?”

The administrator paused. You hoped he wouldn’t ask you to repeat yourself or question you further, so you sarcastically joked, “He will murder me if I can’t find out, it’s very important.”

You prayed he’d bite the banter.

The administration clerk had a boyish tone, “Of course! Would you like me to look up the time and date of his reservation?”

You smirked and held back a cackle, you feigned a sweet joyful cry, “I would be grateful if you could be a dear, thank you so much!”

And that was how you found out the schedule and exact location of August Walker and his criminal associate.

09:45am Friday 9th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.

Getting inside the restaurant wasn’t too hard. It had an open-door area with French doors. You made sure to wear a large sun hat and a plain dress. Your dad owned a small camera, about the size of an apple. You put it on a timer and leant to the floor, aiming the view finder at their table.

The entire time you swore you were sweating bullets. If August had seen you and confronted you, you probably would be chained to a pipe laying naked on a dirty mattress…maybe with those missing women you heard about on the news, Rachel, Stephanie, and Alison.

‘Why didn’t he keep me then? We did he return me back home? Did he kill those other girls?’ the more you thought too deeply on the topic, it made your skin crawl.

You clenched one of the forks, staring at the kingpin in the reflection. He looked to smug for a man that got off on harming women. You wished you could stab out his eyes with the prongs. And when the waiter came around to ask what you wanted to order, you held up the fork and requested a new one, apologising for “dropping it”.

You determined the camera had taken enough footage. You knew you’d need to make your escape when the waiter left to find you a new fork. Afterall- who can afford to pay for a cut of salmon with rocket leaves and white sauce for a hundred and thirteen fucking dollars?

You went straight home on the train and bus. You developed the photos in the bathroom sink. Hanging it up on the shower rails to set.

Those were the first photos you gave Mr. Luther.

The other times you took photos of Brandon and August were harder, a little more risky.

06:23am Saturday 10th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.

You had staked outside of the hotel where Brandon stayed. Waiting across the street in a side street. It was cold and miserable. But you knew August would be down here. Darling Katarina had posted a photo of her shoes in an elevator, beside her feet were Brandons shoes, but his had a shine. You could see the blur of Augusts moustached face. Maybe it was a reach, except when the caption said, “Lions Lounge anyone? Don’t my heels look incredible! **love heart eyes emoji**”

You were dressed in rags, you clenched a juul stick you bought that morning, gagging on the watermelon flavour while you practiced your “Eshay” accent. You stared up at the windows trying to guess which room the three were in with the help of the ex-ballerinas photos.

A month ago, you would’ve thought doing something like this was insane and frankly unhealthy. But you a month ago had not been humiliated and manipulated, God knows what a woman will do once you’ve pissed her off…was it obsession? Most definitely, for revenge, for justice, for all the girls who fell for August and harmed by his reputation.

You waited…and you were right. Brandon and August walking out together. The sweet young woman was clinging to Brandon’s side with a wide girlish smile and love heart shaped sunglasses. Funnily enough, the car that picked them up just so happened to be driven by the same dark headed driver in the same black car that August took you in. You took a snapshot of the license plate and watched it drive through the somewhat slow traffic down the street. You walked and walked, keeping your eyes set on the license plate. While traffic rolled, you turned and noted there were a few empty taxis.

You took off the jumper that you cut a bunch of holes in and dumped it in a garbage bin before bending down and tapping on one of the taxi windows.

“Hey! Are you available to drive me?” You called to one of the taxi drivers that hadn’t noticed you until that second...his eyes widened with surprise before nodding, “quickly, traffic is slow, hop in!”

You slid directly into the passenger side, which on a normal day you’d never dare.

But today wasn’t a normal day. You sat up in your seat and scrolled the area with your eyes.

“So where are we headed today, ma’am?” The driver asked.

You pointed ahead with a cheeky smile, “See that black car? The fancy one.”

“The tesla?” He asked.

“My friends are in that car, so please follow it. They know the way.”

He peered at you curiously, you knew it was stupid. If you had friends rich enough for a tesla, they’d never leave you to find a taxi. But hey…money is money, the driver wouldn’t argue. He started the timer and to your satisfaction traffic picked up. When they zoomed through the street the taxi tried to keep up. They were driving to a quieter street with Western Europeanised cafe’s.

As they stopped and hoped out you quickly requested to the driver, “Do you mind going around the corner? I’m a little embarrassed.”

God, you hated to say it but you had to play the suddenly snobby cunt.

He didn’t care either way to your relief and parked around the corner, metres away from the two men.

You paid the driver handsomely with cash you managed to find in your old piggy bank back home and slid out of the cab. Your face carefully looked around the corner and you skirted back. August, Brandon and Katarina had decided to sit outside in the warm morning sunlight. It was just your luck! Quickly, you crossed the street away from the cafe. The more distance the better.

To your luck it was a block of units across from the cafe. You walked around the building and kept your head down. You came up behind in an alley and smiled at the long spiral stairs that went up to the roof top. The adrenaline extinguished all fear of heights and pushed you up until you stood out on a flat roof. You crossed the way and looked over the side.

‘Fuck’, you thought to yourself. ‘Would a police officer ever do this? Would Lloyd ever have the guts to do this?’

Probably not, there was lots of red tape involved in police investigations...but you were just a reporter...You were a photographic investigator and you amazed yourself at the lengths you were taking. You were eager to get these shots. This evidence.

You saw the pair of businessmen receiving a cup of tea and breakfast meals from the waitress. Getting down onto your tummy, you grabbed your camera and leant over the ledge to zoom in on the two.

The pumping blood roaring in your vein filled you with a mixture of fear, excitement and surprisingly…arousal.

Those were the photos that made it to the papers first.

06:35pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba Brisbane.

As you reminisced on the evidential demise of August Walker, a knock at the door designed a bigger grin across your face. Lloyd had arrived. And no longer standing in a fit of sobs you welcome him cheerfully at the door.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and black slacks, totally out of uniform. Below his eye was a reddish spot. It was shining against his pale face. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was a bruise.

‘Many police are brutal and cruel but there’s no way Lloyd is one. He isn’t one of those cops...he must’ve been attacked by some bogan eshay or crackhead.’

His smile turned your knees to warm jelly. You felt shy like some first year highschooler being noticed by the seniors. He just had this glow around him.

“Hi Lloyd.”

“Hello there,” he said softly, his head cocked to the side, “Do you mind letting me in?” He asked.

‘Oh right.’

“Come- come in.”

You felt your face grow warm. You opened the door wider and looked out and down the hall. You held your breath and stood aside. The tall man slid passed you inside to your lounge room.

You took a massive breath in and exhaled. No one was waiting behind a corner or ready to catch you with the officer. You knew there were no security cameras and you doubted August would ever add any with his reputation.

Lloyd removed his leather shoes and placed them beside the door. His black socks glided over the hardwood.

You bit your lip…you looked back at the coffee table and quickly shut the door, bolting the locks after the detective entered your flat.

If August knew you were letting a detective inside, continuing to talk to one he could-…’Well, hold on...how would he know? He wouldn’t.’

“Woah, locked me in, what are you doing?” Lloyd gasped as he glanced over the metal mechanisms of your door. His eyes widened when you twisted the locks and shifted the small chains.

“I just...um. August Walker.... he’s kinda now...my new landlord and he probably will be getting keys soon and I....” your breath wavered. You paused and took a deep breath, “I needed to talk to you privately in person I think....”

His eyes didn’t grow any wider, but his pupils shrank. He pinched his dark pink lips. Sucking his teeth loudly he nodded slowly.

“That’s definitely a pickle you’ve been put into then, huh?”

You nodded back, pressing yourself against the door, sighing softly, “That’s not even the half of it Lloyd...”

His eyes raked up and down your body in surprise. You weren’t wearing your bra and your nipples were rock hard. Your pyjama bottoms were very short and little did you realise how much they were riding up your thighs.

You walked around him timidly to the coffee table.

“I got a new job, as a photographer journalist, no real experience required just my luck honestly,” you awkwardly laughed, “August um, he’s supposedly up to no good and I thought I could have a jab at him from a professional angle…”

You sat yourself in the recliner, while you invited him to sit opposite of you on the couch where he’d be able to properly look at all the photos.

He looked frightfully tired. His hair was dishevelled, and his shirt was stain with sweat. He had a nasty purple bruise on his knuckles that also matched the one under his eye.

You lifted your knees to your chest and worried about how much trouble this man was getting into as well as you. You wondered if it was like television shows where detectives mostly focus on the darkside of the force.

You gestured to the photos. You weren’t sure how he would react. He sat on the couch and peered across the coffee table, glancing over the images. It took him a few seconds before a gasp of shock ripped from his throat.

You tapped on the photos where you’d been stalked and seen taking photos of August, “Well, it shows he’s not one to have his photos taken...”

He was shaking his head. He couldn’t stop staring at the nude photos. And for a few seconds you relived that feeling of embarrassed humiliation.

You could see how his throat bobbed and his eyes flutter.

He leant forward on his knees and licked his lips.

“I...and here I had called you to check up on you and I was going to ask you for help Y/N, but god I don’t know if that’s gonna work now,” he sighed.

The detective ran a finger across your face in the lewd photos.

Your eyes narrowed, “Wh-what do you mean?”

There was a lengthy pause.

He chewed the inside of his cheek before asking, “How much do you hate what August did to you?”

You didn’t hesitate, “I’d kill him for what he’s done if I knew I wouldn’t go to prison…” you briefly looked down, “He…he came back like you said...”

Lloyd eyes glanced down too and he sighed, “Thought as much…let me guess…he threatened you?”

Your eyes fluttered closed, August had done more than just threaten you.

You nodded slowly, “He…he did…but he…is possessive, he kept saying I was his and I belong to him.” You pointed to the photo of you taped up on the recliner.

His brows pressed together, his eyes saddened. He clear his throat, “How long ago was that?”

Your mouth grew dry. You felt embarrassed telling Lloyd.

“The day of the report, after you brought me home.”

His eyes widened, his hand rubbed his parted lips, “So he ugh…he was here already?”

You nodded again, “The call you made… he was standing right here with a knife in his hand.”

“That’s why you have those deadbolts huh?” The officer rubbed his eyes and groaned, “Fuck. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me after he left? I could’ve moved you, you could’ve stayed with me at least until I could put you into witness protection. Fuck!”

His swearing sent a shiver down your spine.

Your looked at your feet, you knew he wasn’t victim blaming, he just didn’t understand. You told Lloyd everything…confessed like he was your priest. You told him what August did with the vibrator despite it bringing you to tears again. You told him he was the new landlord and that’s why you installed the extra locks. You told him about your new job and you told him about the photos and how you were going to help however you could to put the bastard away.

You sat off the recliner and slid the photos back into the envelope.

“You’re very brave Y/N,” Lloyd whispered, he reached out and laid his warm hand on top of yours.

Your belly felt warm at the praise. You let him hold your fingers in his and rubbed his thumb over your skin. You stared at his blonde moustache and those bright clue eyes of his. You imagined his mouth scratching your lip if you only leant in closer...he was still as handsome as the day he patiently listened to you in the report.

Lloyd smiled softly.

God if you were a cat you would’ve been feral and in heat with how creative your imagination was getting.

Your eyes fluttered as your entire body warmed up.

“Y-You said you needed help with something?”

He smirked, letting go of your hand.

He claimed, “After what you’ve told me I’m confident you can do it...but you might not like it…”

“Try me,” you huffed, falling victim to his contagious grin.

“I have two tickets to August’s little Soiree at his club The Lions Lounge,” He started off, “My other sources have confirmed there is going to be some form of arms deal with some unsavoury company, illegal, unregistered weapons. August Walker is very good at knowing the law and requesting a warrant… but the sources I have are not substantial to the board to guarantee a warrant by that night and by that time Walker would’ve moved the weapons and sold them in a different location.”

You pieced it bit by bit.

“So you need to get inside the party, find the deal going down and bust them?”

“Exactly, that’s right! However the moment a single man waltzes to the front door it looks suspicious. I need a lady on the arm…and better yet…I need a distraction for Walker, if he sees me head on, I could be as good a shark chow.”

Your eyes lit up, it didn’t take a genius to realise he meant you. You would be the distraction. And you’d be damned before you put yourself in real danger again especially after the threat August had given you...your photos were taken in public, this would be in private. Anything could happen to you.

“No… that is too dangerous, Lloyd,” You stood up and paced the floor in front of Lloyd who was now also rising to follow you in your pacing. You walked around your kitchen and Lloyd put his hands on the bench beside you.

“Y/N…” he bent close in a whisper. You wouldn’t look at the detective. Fear was buzzing inside of you. You felt stupid about saying you’d do anything to take August Walker down now. You really wanted to just humiliate the man and call him up in prison one day and rub it in his face. But this? This was a game of cat and mouse and you didn’t want to be backed up into a corner again.

“I wouldn’t be asking you if this unless I had to...”

You bit back the whimper in your throat as Lloyd touched your shoulder gently.

“He let you live…he has a soft spot for you.”

‘He threatened to put me down.’

He turned you around and squeezed your arms while he pitched the plan, “What’ll happen is we enter the club, I find the dealers and you find Walker because he will be hosting the party, he will want to know why you’re there and you are going to tell him that…you wanted to see him.”

You rubbed your eyes angrily, “Why the fuck would I want to see him?!” your fingers felt moist, you’d been compelled to tears.

The kind eyed detective sucked his teeth, “I don’t know, make it up. Kiss him. Men don’t care about a thing once a pretty thing is kissing them.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. No, this wasn’t the Lloyd you had imagined.

“Oh,” you chuckled sourly, “So you’re pimping me out then?”

He gave you a dumbfounded look, “Call it whatever you want…you’ll be paid good money for your service and he’ll be arrested, in prison, unable to touch you. You can run away and move to wherever you want then.”

Your breath was shaky as you dared to ask, “How much?”

His left brow rose.

“How much would I be paid by the Queensland police or Australian defence department or whoever this is through?”

He sighed and gently laid a hand on your shoulder, “Around fifteen grand.”

Your breath escaped you. From near negatives to fifteen grand overnight? That much? For this job?! You were stunned…not sure if it was worth your life…but if it meant he only humiliate you one more time and you walked away with that much money…you’d do it.

You shook your head, “Fine, it’s this Friday night yea? His club is high-class and I don’t have clothes for that type of event.”

The tall man stood back and chuckled as he tug into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. He pinched a wad of cash and slapped it in the benchtop. Your eyes widened, holy fuck it was a month or two in rent alone…

“Go buy some. But you have got to be ready. At Seven o’clock I’ll pick you up an hour before the event and we can refresh what we know before we line up.”

You glanced between him and the money and nodded….”Alright, let’s…let’s do this.”

He laughed and clapped his hand excitedly, he leant in and gave you a fat kiss on the cheek. Nothing romantic, just pure joy.

“Thankyou so much Y/N you are going to be hailed a hero, a legend in my books!” He marched back to the couch and grabbed his blazer.

“You are a special person and I’m honoured to have met you! Really honoured!” He said as he unlocked all your bolts. He swung the door open and slammed it behind him.

You sighed and fell back against your cold fridge.

You weren’t sure you could pull this off….but as your eyes looked over the cash, the corner of your lips lifted.

You shut your eyes and sighed…all that money, it made your blood pulse. You returned to the lounge room and sat in the recliner. You laid back, staring at the ceiling. Your hands crawled down, passed the waist band of your pyjama shorts and underwear. You touched yourself and sighed.

Your fingers rubbed delicately against your clit while you leant against the kitchen bench.

You tried to imagine someone...Lloyd…the detective. He had a warmth his face. Lloyd would never rape you though, he was good, he was honest…

You moaned softly, imagining his warm hands groping your skin and his lips kissing your skin.

Fingering yourself, in and out, in and out.

You were imagining Lloyd speaking to you. He was currently the most attractive man you’d made contact with in weeks...other than August who essentially raped you.

What kind words would Lloyd say? “I washed our clothes, finished the dishes, now come here and let me fuck you.” ‘Oh yea that’s fucking hot.’

You imagined he would be gentle and soft before using more strength in his hips. His lips would be soft and hot. He would protect you and play sexy policeman. You might not have been a fan of the justice system but you were confident Lloyd would fill in a police uniform very well.

So why did your body start to dry up?

You didn’t know what you were doing wrong. You were riding your fingers and teasing your clit…why couldn’t you cum? You felt weird doing this now. It was strange to think before you met August you could cum very easily, after your dad- well you hadn’t touched yourself because you weren’t thinking about sex for a while until the millionaire stepped into your life.

After the third time of unsuccessful release, you punched the arm of the chair and started searching sex toys on your phone.

You weren’t totally sure if the prices were worth it for a piece of painted pink silicone. And there were strange shapes you were amazed were even designed to fit into a human….‘a whole fist? Surely that’s satire,’ you thought, ‘it shouldn’t be possible. It would be like reverse birth?’

You settled on buying a “rabbit dildo with thrusting pleasure.” You rolled your eyes at the name. You slapped your phone down and sighed, rubbing your eyes.

The hour was late.

Your first paycheck would be coming in soon. It was the smell of a small victory.

10:33am Friday 16th August 2024, Queen Street Westfield Shopping centre, Brisbane.

“What should I wear…” you hummed as you flipped through the dresses. Some of these dresses cost the amount of a new iPhone. You bit your lip. ‘Maybe I can return them tomorrow and give Lloyd his money back?’

A sales clerk came up, “Need some help?” She was blonde, curvy and tall. A supermodel compared to your body. You blushed.

“I’m looking to wear something to one of the high end clubs like The Lion Lounge, he’s having a nineteen twenties theme soiree this evening?”

Her lips widened, “Well, we do have many suitable gowns and even pantsuits for that social class, what designer were you thinking?”

You balked and worried that she would see you sweat, “Oh…I um…I’ll be super frank…I have not a clue what I’m doing…it is my first time to something so spectacular.”

The clerk’s eyes softened, her lips pursed, “Well! Let me help you then! These gowns you’re looking at are definitely not old twenties glam worthy! Right this way!”

Your cheeks buzzed as you were led into a dressing room and made to try on multiple styles, designers and colours of dresses.

She asked if you were getting your nails done and gasped when you said you hadn’t thought about it.

She was like a fairy godmother. She went the extra mile to call up the other stores in the mall to book appointments. You hadn’t felt so pretty ever in your life until then

She appeared stunned by the cash you laid on her counter.

Your nails were french tips with a holographic clear coat. You received a quick arm and leg wax and eyebrow shaping. The makeup matched the entire outfit. Your dress clung to your best assets and shaped your body with a clutch purse and low heels to match. Your hair was gelled and hairsprayed down into finger waves. And a lather of pearls circled around your throat and wrists.

The long finger of your dress tickled your calfs down to your small kitten heels.

You looked incredible, it took your breath away to see the glow up….

Lloyd thought so too.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

°°°

Standing on the Berlin's street sidewalk, you watched him straddling his bike, without another glance in your direction. Sighing you crossed your arms on your chest, ignoring the pain and hurt forming inside your stomach. You didn't turn your eyes away from his frame. You didn't turn them away when he started his engine, pushing the gas up and moving his bike forward into the city's road, his motorcycle passing through the other cars. August J. Walker was your pain in the ass, you haven't killed. Yet. Commanding. Law-abiding. Powerful. And unfairly gorgeous. Face and body of a Greek God.  You watched him go until he became a spot in your vision driving far away from you. His worst nightmare. You spend two days together because of an anarchist prick you both had been ordered to kill. His directive was coming from the CIA. Yours? Well, you didn't know and didn't care. You did your job to nurture this impertinent desire for destruction and power you felt every time another person was behind the barrel of your gun. It was everything you wanted since you were old enough to understand human emotions. Until you met August J. Walker. Biting your lower lip, you stood on your tiptoes trying to look for the shiny black bike on the horizon but traffic grew dense and thick and loud in the busy streets. Groaning, you put the sole of your feet back on the concrete of the pavement, making a face. This is stupid! You thought pushing your hands down inside your jacket's pockets. He's just a guy. An agent for the USA government. The personal Hammer of the President. What good would come from this?! Turning on your heels and closing your eyes, you started to push away any thoughts of the dark-haired man putting your focus and your energy toward a brighter and shiny thing. Like the Gucci shop who stood a couple of meters away. Maybe a new outfit will do the trick. You were about to take a step but at the last moment, you turned on your heels for a last hope. Only to be surprise by his sea-blue eyes watching you with amusement. Startled you take a step back as you face each other. Seating on his bike parked a few meters away from you, August tilted his head to the side, waiting. Son of a Bitch! You didn't hear the guy.

" You know it's rude to gawk at a lady. " You cried out, pushing your mixing and uncertain feelings down.

You won't give him this satisfaction. You smiled, slightly narrowing your eyes, walking slowly toward him.

" We both know that you are no lady, Y/N. " " Well, I could be! " You exclaimed in a heavy British accent, acting offended.

That was your cover that August had blown up to your target two days ago. Which pushed you to make the hard decision to fire at him with your gun. A smile appeared on the corner of his mouth. He turned his head left watching civilians walking around, enjoying the small rays of sunshine emerging through the heavy clouds. Bracing his hand on his thighs, knowing well that you were looking at his unsheathed frame. You had fired but this handsomely idiot didn't get injured once. Sighing, the dark-haired man turned his eyes to the right. Awaiting. Licking your lips, you spared a glance behind you to the luxurious shopping area. You could choose the sensible solution and turned back. Spending money on beautiful and expensive clothes. Then, have lunch at the super private and exclusive Time Raue restaurant. And, enjoying a nice nap in first class on your trip back to your home in Rome. That would be the sensible, and responsible thing to do. However, when you straddled the bike behind August, hugging him from behind. Hiding, you pressed your face against his shoulder, smelling his intoxicating scent. You knew that you made the most insane choice in your life. Hanging out with the good guy even though you never were on on the right side of the law, ever. You sense rather than see his smile on his lips.

" You sure? " The dark-haired man asked softly grasping back the hands clutch. " No. " You whispered pushing your cheek on his tone back, gripping him more tightly around his stomach. " Alright, then. "

You put your foot on the footrest while he started once again the engine, turning the bike before making his way into Berlin's heavy traffic, sliding through cars and other heavy vehicles. You closed your eyes, enjoying the wind on your face. Enjoying the feeling of his body against yours.

°°°

" Does the CIA pay you with buttons? " You inquired touching the cheap material of the bedsheets wincing at the rough touch.

It was a small hotel room where high-tech equipments were lying around, opened on tables and the floor. You watched carefully the bed then took a glance at the furniture. Maybe cataloging every piece of IT supplies August Walker could use during a mission could be useful in the future. Watching carefully everything he brought not for satisfying your curiosity but for your job.  

" It can be useful to blend in when you are undercover. " The blue-eyed man sighed putting his keys on the small table next to the bed. " Normal people earning normal wages don't do go to lavish hotel . " He smiles faintly looking at you up and down. " I have luxurious taste " You shrugged taking hold of a lighter with the flag of Germany on it.

You watched it, analyzing every details of the drawing as  he put the light of the room on. The rain had started to pour as you entered the seedy Hotel. Casting a gloomy glow on the city. You pushed the lighter inside your pocket before walking toward the table at the center of the room.

" Put it back. " August ordered, annoyed as he switched the TV on. " Sentimental? " You asked raising an eyebrow and looking at him above your shoulder. " I didn't know The Hammer was the kind of tourist who love buying touristic regalia. " You smiled. " I don't want to enable your kleptomaniac tendency. " He answered without taking his eyes off the screen.

Browsing on channels, August stopped on the BBC. He threw the remote on the bed before he started to pack his stuff. You watched every piece of thing, but only found IT equipment, classified documents, and primary necessities. An airport brand water bottle? All his personal space was filled with generic stuff. Maybe some important information about the CIA agency and their outline purpose by sending one of the best agents on this case. But these pieces of information didn't interest your employer. Not even you. Nothing here felt like a personal object of August J. Walker. Nothing except the lighter.

" Did you call them? " You asked pushing a computer around to look at the files underneath. Classified. Not interesting.   " Call who? " He replied putting several handguns into a black and large suitcase.

Kneeling on the floor, August closed back the case before raising his eyes to  look at you. You arched an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side.

" No. " He sighed, pushing away the heavy bag and reaching for the document under the bed. " I would like to handle you, personally. " " I'm touch. " You beamed, surprised, and a bit confused by his choices. Turning your back to him you walked toward the plump armchair, grimacing at the sight before seating on it, with caution. " As one of the ten most wanted assassin being researched by your little company, it means a lot to me. " You reminded him touching lightly the tiny dark spots  on the violet fabric. " Don't get too comfortable. I plan to hand you to them at some point. " He grunted loading a case above another one. " I will be long gone before you choose to do so. " You stopped counting the dot on the chair before growing depressed at the thought. " Don't count on it. "

Feeling watched you raised your eyes only to meet August's blue ones. Crossing his arms on his chest, you scowled at him.

" We must speak about last night. " " I don't want to. " You rebuked him standing up before making steps to the window in the far corner of the room. " The man who stopped us…" " I didn't know him. " You interrupted him sliding the curtains aside to look through the glass.  

Growing tense and uneasy, you started to wonder if you chose right between a day in town with the rain or being interrogated by a CIA agent in a shitty hotel room.

" His number one on our most-wanted list, Y/N. " August continued his voice growing loud. You sensed him walking toward you. " And you know him. " " I don't. " You lied though your teeth watching passerby running to avoid the rain. Others were walking, shielded by their umbrellas.

Heavy clouds were darkening the sky turning the nice July afternoon into a cold winter night. You felt him stop behind you.

" Why are you lying. " " Who says I'm lying. " You sighed glancing at him above your shoulder. " Stop looking at me like that, M. Serious. I'm not gonna tell you anything. "

Stroking his eyes, August nodded his eyes quickly, muttering words under his breath.

" I'm gonna take a shower. " The dark-haired man said, without another glance in your direction.

You turned around to watch him go behind the wooden door at the back of the room. At the end of the day, August J. Walker was still a prominent agent of the CIA. And even though, something was happening between you, he wouldn't let any chance go away to do his job. You watched him disappear closing the door behind his back. Was it the reason he proposed a ride to his hotel room? To interrogate you on some acquaintances you tried to forget to have ever meet. Biting your lower lip, you shook your head. Maybe it was his idea behind his proposition but not yours.   The tension that has been built between you and this man for the last two days led you here. And you were sure to enjoy every last minute.

°°°

A heavy mist was clogged on the bathroom mirror as you opened the door. Turning his head around, he paused, meeting your eyes through the mist, water, and the glass of the shower. August didn't drop his eyes as you walked to reach him. He didn't drop them as you stepped, entirely naked, inside the shower stall next to him. Darker blue, his pupils were dilated. He started to breathe heavily while goosebumps appeared on his skin. Shivering, the dark-haired man took a step back to make you some space under the jet. Closing your eyes, you tilted your head back as you felt the hot water cascading on your naked form. You could feel his sight on you drinking every pieces of your skin. Opening your eyes, you looked back at him and was shot with a pressure of need and desire as you saw his dark gaze filled with lust on you. Licking his lips, August leaned his back toward the shower wall, his well-defined muscles glistening with water. You wouldn't let your gaze drop further down. You wouldn't give him this satisfaction.

" Touch yourself. " His deep voice echoed through the bathroom stall. His breath was shallow and low. " I thought you would be the one to do it. " You pouted slightly, pushing back your hair off your eyes. " In a minute. " He whispered back, his voice was a low growl. " I need to see you. "

You bite your lower lip, cocking your head to the side while your hands rose slowly to your chest. Stroking gently your skin, you took your hard nipple between your fingers, his hungry gaze watching the seductive movement of your hands.

" Don't make me beg. " You murmured, with heated emotions.

As quickly as the words left your mouth, August lunged for you, hiding his head against your breast. You sighed feeling his hot breath on you, pressing open mouth kisses against your breast. You let your hands wander through his wet hair.

" Y/N. " The Agent deeply moaned sliding his arms around your waist, pushing your body against his naked one. He whimpered when your skins touch, the tip of his cock pressed against your hip. " Fuck it. " He grunted through gritted teeth.

August pushed you against the shower wall. Hot water poured above your heads, making everything wet and hot. You gasped pushing your head against the wall of glass behind you, closing your eyes hard, feeling the sweet and slippery sensation between your legs. Bitting your nipples, his hands were caressing your wet skin slowly before sliding his fingers down.

" I need…" You moaned opening your eyes to meet his dark ones. His lips still on your breast, you gasped as his other hand start to tenderly stroke your clit. " Tell me. " August urged you, hot breath against your skin. Leaning his head to yours, your lips were inches away from each other. " What do you need? " He inquired, quickening the pace of his fingers on your clit. " You. " You whimpered removing any spaces between your lips, pressing your mouth hard on his own.

You reached for his dick while seeking entrance into his mouth. Hooking your legs around his hips, holding unto him with one hand on his neck, you guided him forward with your other one. Teasing his hard shaft with your fingers. Heat and want were coursing through your veins making everything exquisite.

" That's it, sweetheart. " August moaned against your lips. " Put it in. " He added in a whisper.

He moved his hand away, holding you tightly against his body, his fingers piercing your waist. You tilted your head to the side pressing kisses and bites against his neck as he sunk inside you. Slowly. Filling you up. A deep groan escaped the agent's lips. He felt nice and long inside you. You sucked his skin, biting back your whimpers.

" You feel s'wet and good around me. " He panted his grasp on you growing tight on your skin. " Bad girl has the sweetest pussy for me to fill. " The dark-haired man purred rolling his hips against you, quickening his pace.

Each time he slammed into you, you felt him touching the sweet spot, building the beautiful sensation inside your pussy. His words made everything hot and sinful. You arched your back against the wall, moaning, digging your nails on his skin. He teased you with the tip of his dick on your slippery clit, stroking, before thrusting hard inside your bode. Again. And, again. Hot water pouring above your heads filled the room with steam.

" Open your mouth. " He ordered you, before swearing his voice low, grinding his hips against you.

You did. You opened your eyes as well. August's dark eyes met yours as he put a quick kiss against your lips before raising his hand to press his thumb against your tongue. You sucked on it, whimpering, your lips close around his finger.

" Fuck, you're so beautiful. "

Freeing his thumb from your mouth, he slid it down quickly to reach your clit. Stroking you quickly. And, then it happened so fast. Your orgasm erupted inside your pussy making you shake against him panting his name while the brillant sensation made you see stars.

" No. " August cried out, rolling his hips. " Open your eyes. Watch me. "

Tired and still trembling against the shower wall, you looked at him through your eyelids. Teeth biting down his lower lip, August groans grew louder, his hips jerked against you, filling you up as he reached his climax. You moved your arms around his neck pushing your forehead against his. Breathing hard, you licked your wet lips feeling the water becoming colder.

" We should get out. " You said, your voice rasped, you felt suddenly tired. Beautifully tired and satisfy. " Just a minute. " He answered, his cock was growing soft inside you. " I don't want any drop out of you. " You yawned leaning your head against the crook of his neck. " I will take care of you. " August continued putting a soft kiss on your cheek.

Your eyes were getting heavy with exhaustion feeling content.  August was holding you tight against his hard and huge body, kissing your forehead. You started to close your eyes, tiredness sinking into you, until a sharp pain erupted at your side, jolting you wild awake. You opened your eyes biting back your cry. You looked down, confused.  Blood. So much blood under the pale silver band of the knife mixing slowly with the cold water of the shower. Panting from pain, you shook your head, bewildered and feeling a little lightheaded, raising your eyes, you only saw red.

" No hard feelings love. " Agent Walker cocked his head to the side, thrusting the knife harder under your skin, pushing himself away from you, you winced trembling. A dark smile appeared on his mouth. "I told you, I will handle you, personally. "

°°°