#darksimpvalentines

He loomed a few feet away, as quiet as he’d been the entire time you gave him a tour of the space–mainly the supply room and kitchen–where you would need his help the most.

The bakery was closed today, so it was just the two of you, which you thought would be a nice way to introduce Curtis to you and your business. But his quiet, intimidating demeanor was only making you more flustered by the second. 

It wasn’t because he was an ex-convict, it was because he was so big and scary looking, so reserved and difficult to read. Curtis seemed a complete mismatch to your cutesy bakery, with its dark wood and black decor and bright pops of color. 

But Curtis was here because you truly believed that he deserved a second chance, and on the recent one-year anniversary of your beloved aunt’s death, you decided to do something in her honor, something that would have made her so happy. 

Since your aunt had spent most of her career as a therapist and advocate for the incarcerated, you decided to sign up for your state’s prison release support program–providing employment opportunities for those recently released from jail. 

In addition to his new job as your assistant, you were also renting Curtis the apartment above the bakery at a discounted rate, because you wanted to help him get back on his feet as he started this new chapter of his life.

You weren’t sure what you had expected of Curtis, but you had been a little thrown when he first arrived. 

Because he was gorgeous. 

Tall and lean and obviously built beneath the heavy drape of his black winter coat. His face was pale and shadowed by a dark beard that made the vivid, ice blue color of his eyes pop. He was handsome, devastatingly so, and when Curtis’ wary gaze had first met your own, you felt a bolt of electricity zip up your spine.

You hadn’t recovered since. 

“Do you have any questions?” you asked, clenching your hands together behind you as you twisted back and forth, unable to stand still. 

“So, I’m your assistant?” Curtis muttered as he turned to face you. “What will that look like?”

“Well, I think you’ll mostly be helping me in the kitchen, prepping and baking.” 

You felt your face warm as you noticed how intently Curtis was watching you, his eyes fixed on yours as you spoke, unwavering, all-seeing. 

“It will be so great to have someone big and strong to lift and move the supplies, especially!” you babbled. “I’ve been bribing the supplies delivery guy with free treats and coffee to get him to store those 50-pound bags of flour in the supply room for me because there’s no way I can move them myself.”

It was subtle, but you definitely noticed the way Curtis’ eyes drifted lower, taking inventory of your stature, probably trying to picture you moving bags of flour that were bigger than you.

“Well,” he said, a slight tilt to the corner of his lips as he finally glanced away. “Not sure how much help I’ll be on the baking and prepping front, but I’m willing to learn, and if you need muscle, that I can definitely do.”

“Great! Thank you.” A sudden thought occurred to you, and you clapped your hands together excitedly, making Curtis’ gaze fly back to you. “I want to show you the apartment upstairs, but first, I have something for you!”

“For me?” he echoed in disbelief as he watched you hurry across the floor and around the counter. 

“Mmhmm!” You chirped before ducking out of sight. 

You made a quiet sound of effort as you rose, setting a big basket on the counter. It was filled with various food, drink, and baked treats you had spent the weekend making for Curtis.

“It’s a welcome basket!” you gave him a tentative smile as Curtis slowly moved closer, until he was looming on the other side of the counter from you, his stoic gaze lingering on the basket and its contents. “There’s a bunch of treats that I made, like cookies and pastries and some petite cakes. I also included different sandwiches and chips and threw in some packaged snacks and drinks and stuff since I wasn’t sure what you like.” 

After a long, awkward moment of silence, Curtis’ eyes lifted to meet yours. There was something different about his gaze now as he watched you–it wasn’t quite warm, but it was less guarded–and it had your belly swooping sharply, then fluttering, because it was such a noticeable difference from how he looked at you before. 

“You made all of this, for me?” he murmured. 

You nodded, feeling unsure as your smile faltered. “Is that weird? I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable or–”

“No,” he cut you off so firmly, you snapped your mouth shut as you stared at him with wide eyes. “Sorry, it’s…it’s very kind. I’m just not used to that, I guess. So… thank you.”

Those last two words had so much weight behind them–were so genuine–that warmth flooded your cheeks, your own eyes falling to the counter because it was too hard to maintain Curtis’ gaze as you smiled and shrugged, “You’re welcome.” 

Another stretch of awkward silence dragged on for a moment before you shook yourself, shooting Curtis a small smile as you thumbed over your shoulder, toward the hallway that led to your small office, the supply room, and the inside entrance to Curtis’ apartment. 

“Ready to see your new place? It’s very lightly furnished, just the basics, so feel free to make it your own! I’m not a strict landlord, just, yanno, don’t wreck the place or anything.”

“I’ll keep the wild parties to a minimum,” Curtis deadpanned.

You giggled, watching as Curtis’ eyes warmed in a way that conveyed he was pleased that you laughed at his joke. Then you were shaking yourself again as you reached for the basket. “We can bring this up with us.”

Curtis gently tugged it from your grip, lifting it with much less effort than you had expended a moment ago. “I got it,” he said softly. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m the hired muscle, remember?” he teased. 

Grinning, you nodded in agreement before turning to lead him down the hall, much more aware of Curtis’ looming presence as he followed you than you probably should have been.

As the weeks passed, both you and Curtis settled into this new routine together–him at being your bakery assistant, and you at having so much help for the first time since you opened your bakery two years ago.

You grew less nervous by Curtis’ mere presence, and he seemed to warm up to you considerably, still gruff and mostly stoic, but with these glimmers of humor and softness that seemed reserved for you. 

There was also this air of protectiveness that Curtis started to exude when it came to you–which you weren’t expecting at all. 

First, it was him insisting on walking you home each night, even though he lived right upstairs and was so obviously going out of his way. No matter how many times you told him it wasn’t necessary, and you’d be fine on the quick 10-minute trek, he insisted, and Curtis was stubborn enough that it wasn’t worth trying to talk him out of it. 

There were also these moments when it was just the two of you–usually early in the morning or later in the evening–when you were prepping together. Now that Curtis was gaining the hang of things, he wouldn’t let you do anything strenuous, like kneading dough or lifting anything he considered too heavy for you. “You hired me for a reason, right?” he’d always remind you if you tried to object. 

Something about someone so scary–an ex-con, of all people–being protective of you made your belly swoop, and in this moment, part of you yearned for Curtis and his protectiveness as you tried to encourage one of your regulars, Pete, so be on his way so you could finish closing. 

But you knew that Curtis was in the kitchen, dutifully prepping all the doughs on the list you had written out this morning, and he had no idea that you had an unwanted shadow as you flipped the last chair atop its table before turning toward where you had left the broom leaning in the corner. 

You pulled up short as you found Pete blocking your way–looming in your personal space and making you uncomfortable as he watched you. His expensive suit was a little rumpled since it was early evening, and it was strange seeing him this late to be honest, as he usually stopped in for his morning coffee and pastry before being on his way. 

“Er, excuse me,” you chirped, shooting him a half-smile that was forced as you ducked around him and scurried to swipe up the broom. 

“I know I’m in your way,” Pete drawled as he tucked his hands into his pockets and continued to stand in the middle of the dining floor, watching you work. “But I have something I want to ask you.”

All you wanted was to finish up so that you could go home and collapse after such a long day, but you shook off that thought, reminding yourself that it was because of regulars like Pete that your business was successful. 

“What’s that?” you murmured as you continued to diligently sweep, ignoring Pete’s heavy gaze as he watched you without reserve.

“Go out with me,” he said in that casual way of his, his statement not much of a question at all. 

You froze, glancing up at him with wide eyes. 

He gave you a smile that was more of a smirk as he sauntered closer. “Come on, sweetie. One date.”

Feeling your face warm and your insides flip unpleasantly–because you hated confrontation–you gathered your courage, giving Pete a kind smile as you replied, “Um, that’s so sweet of you to ask, but I don’t date customers, I’m sorry.”

Your eyes caught a glimpse of his frown before you quickly looked away, turning your back to him as you returned to sweeping the floor.

There was a long, drawn out moment of silence that felt suffocating, and then you squeaked as you suddenly felt a warm press at your back, and two big hands framing your hips, pinning you against the nearest table. 

“I think I’m more than just a customer,” Pete purred against the curve of your jaw.

You shuddered as his nose skimmed along your warm cheek and you could feel the way his chest expanded as he noisily inhaled the scent of you with a quiet groan. 

“Pete, please…” you trembled, trying to elbow him away. 

But he only pressed closer. “Come on, let me wine and dine you,” Pete insisted, pushing flush against your back in a way that made you feel violated. “We can get to know each other better. Maybe indulge in some dessert that doesn’t come from a restaurant, if you catch my drift.”

His hands squeezed your hips before one wandered around. It trailed along your belly, making you jerk and try to recoil as your brain began to cloud with fear. 

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you quavered, dropping the broom and trying to twist away from Pete’s grip. 

“I think it’s a great idea,” Pete countered, his touch skimming higher, along your sides–overly familiar in a way that made bile burn at the back of your throat–as you cowered and tried to curl in on yourself with a whimper. “The best idea I’ve ever had–”

Pete’s words suddenly turned into a grunt as he was violently yanked away from you. 

Gasping, you spun around, eyes big with shock as you watched Curtis snarl, “She said no,” as he bodily propelled Pete away from you and across the bakery toward the exit. 

“Man, fuck off and mind your business,” Pete tried–and failed–to struggle out of Curtis’ grip. 

“Oh, I am,” Curtis growled, his smile more of a sneer as he opened the front door and threw Pete outside.

His voice lowered, and you couldn’t hear what he said to Pete, but whatever it was had the other man paling considerably, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard before turning and practically running away. 

Your heart rate was just starting to slow as Curtis pulled the door shut. He locked it and flipped the sign to Closed before turning off the overhead lights to dissuade anyone else from trying to come inside now that you were closed. 

He turned and slowly walked toward you, something about his gait cautious, like he was approaching a spooked animal. That ever watchful gaze of his took inventory of you and the way you were still trembling as you struggled to meet his eyes while you fought back tears. 

“You okay?” His voice was a soft rumble, the familiar sound soothing and instantly making your hitched shoulders drop away from your ears. 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, your voice too high–unnatural–and making you wince.

Curtis watched you for a beat, quiet, unsure of what to say, before crouching to pick up the broom from the floor. He turned and leaned it against the wall before his concerned gaze once again found you. 

“Come on, let’s make some tea. You like that lavender chamomile blend when it’s later at night, right?”

You blinked at him, gobsmacked. “How did you know that?”

His lips curled, but he didn’t answer your question. “Come on,” he said again, his voice softer than before as he touched a hand to your hip and urged you toward the brewing equipment. “I can take care of sweeping before we head out.”

You didn’t argue as you stepped behind the counter, hugging yourself tightly as Curtis set about making your tea. 

There was something so soothing about watching him and the confident way in which he moved. Of course you knew that he tended to join you behind the counter during the morning and lunch time rushes to help you knock out orders, but you were always too busy to really watch him or the way he worked. 

But right now, it felt almost intimate, watching Curtis make you a cup of tea to help calm your nerves.

His hands were big and rough and sure, his arm muscles flexing as he moved. His body was so tall and broad and took up so much space, but not in a way that felt intimidating–in a way that made you feel safe, especially after what just happened with Pete.

At last, Curtis turned to you, his eyes still shining with worry as he offered you the steaming mug. 

“Relax for a few minutes while I finish sweeping,” he told you. “I also squirreled away some of today’s sandwich specials for us so neither of us would need to cook dinner after a long day.”

That made you smile, it always did when Curtis appreciated your culinary skills. And he was once again taking care of you in some way–even something as simple as thinking of you and how tired you’d be and making sure you had a good meal to go home to. 

“Thank you, Curtis, for everything,” you murmured as you carefully cradled the mug of tea to your chest. Your eyes were soft as they met his. “You’re so good to me.”

You saw the hint of something intense flare in Curtis’ gaze as he watched you, but it was gone before you could process and identify it. His lips curled into the slightest of smiles as he said, “You were good to me first.”

Then he gave you a small nod and moved past you, but not before his big hand touched your shoulder–gave it a soft squeeze that made your insides feel alive and vibrant in a new way–a way that stuck with you for the entire rest of the evening. 

A week or so later, it was an errant, inappropriate thought as you watched Curtis during closing time–that he looked so good in his simple white tee and jeans beneath a black Hearth & Honey Bakery apron.

Your eyes lingered once again on his arm muscles, on his big, rough hands, as he kneaded the last batch of dough, and you couldn’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like touching you–really touching you–not just a stray shoulder squeeze or to keep you in place as he moved behind you to grab something. 

You weren’t quick enough to school your features before Curtis glanced at you, going still at the way you watched him–the moment charged like so many other moments between you and Curtis had been as of late.

His eyes locked on your guilty ones before flickering down to your lips for the briefest millisecond, and you felt your insides swoop then throb before you squeaked about grabbing your things before scurrying back to your office. 

Things felt less charged and intense a little while later as Curtis walked you home, and given the way your dynamic had changed–the way the two of you had become closer–you couldn’t help but finally ask a question that had been on your mind since you met him. 

“I know we’ve never talked about it, and I don’t want to pry, but I just…can’t help but wonder why you were locked up for so long. You’re just so kind and protective, it’s hard to imagine you being a convict.” 

Curtis remained silent for so long, that you were afraid you had offended him and made him angry. When you peeked over at him, it was to find him staring straight ahead–avoiding your gaze–his sharp jaw tense and ticking under your observation.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” you started to back track, but Curtis shook his head, finally turning your way. 

“No, you have every right to ask considering you spend most of your time with me.” 

He went quiet again, the silence dragging on between the two of you, and then Curtis started to speak–to quietly confess–keeping his eyes firmly away from you as he answered your question.

He told you how he had been in a gang since he was a pre-teen. How he had talked his step-brother, Edgar, into joining too. How the two of them were inseparable. How Edgar idolized him. How when Curtis was twenty, and Edgar was seventeen, he'd been brutally murdered by a rival gang–and how Curtis had nearly beaten his brother’s killer to death with his bare hands.  

“I wanted to. Kill him. For taking Edgar from me,” Curtis muttered as he paused just outside of your home. He kept his gaze away from you–distant–as he continued. “I wanted to kill him for drawing it out and making Edgar suffer. Despite being in a gang, he was a sweet kid. He didn’t deserve what was done to him. I made it easy for the DA to charge me with attempted murder, for the judge to give me twenty to life, and now here we are–I wasted half my life behind bars, and Edgar’s still gone.”

“God, Curtis, I’m so sorry,” your voice trembled with the tears you tried to blink back as you watched him. 

You couldn’t even imagine what he had been through. He’d been so young and lost so much, and had paid a very severe price for the way he grieved his loss–for his need for vengeance. 

It felt like a reflex you couldn’t deny as you moved toward Curtis and pressed close, wrapping him in a hug. He was rigid for a few seconds before you felt the tension ease from his body as he tentatively wrapped his arms around you and returned your embrace. 

Curtis’ body heat enveloped you completely, and you could feel the warm press of his hands through your coat as he touched your back, tugging you closer. His head dipped, his nose sinking into your hair, and his big body wracked with an intense shudder that left him trembling against you–overwhelmed by touching and being touched by another for the first time in years.

You just hugged him tighter, burying your face against the front of his coat–knowing the dark material soaked up the few tears you couldn’t blink back as you held him until he finally straightened and shifted away. 

“I’m sorry,” Curtis’ voice was rough, his eyes shining as he sniffed hard, avoiding your soft gaze. 

“You don’t need to be sorry.”

“You should get inside,” Curtis rumbled. “It’s cold out here, and I’m sure you’re tired.”

As he went to step away from you fully, you went with him. You weren’t sure what made you do it, but you just needed him to look at you–to look into your eyes and know that his truth hadn’t changed anything for you.

Before your brain caught up with your movements, you framed Curtis’ face between your hands and tilted his gaze to meet yours. 

“Thank you for telling me,” you whispered before kissing his bearded cheek. 

And maybe it was the way Curtis’ breath hitched at the innocent kiss that had you lingering close, that had your fingers twitching against his beard as you breathed the same air, your lips hovering mere inches from his as your eyes met his and found his gaze dark and wanting.  

You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly you and Curtis were kissing. You could feel his fingers tremble as they touched your face, not quite cradling so much as tentatively touching–like he was making sure you were real, that this was real. 

Curtis drank from your mouth like he hadn’t quenched his thirst in years–and you supposed that was true in a sense. As his tongue touched yours, a primal groan spilled from his lips to yours, and you kissed him more eagerly, consumed entirely by his obvious desire for you.

You had no idea how the two of you made it inside your place with your mouths still fused together so passionately, but suddenly you were in your bed–as naked as Curtis–as he pinned you to your mattress with his weight and kissed you with a hunger that literally stole your breath away.  

You gasped, desperate for oxygen between frantic kisses, your cunt weeping an endless river as you felt Curtis rut against you eagerly. His cock was hard and trapped against your belly, the dribble of his pre-cum making a sticky mess against your skin, but it was the kind of mess you reveled in, and a distant part of you committed to spending the entire night getting filthy with Curtis. 

There was such a frenetic energy to Curtis as he moved over you–kissed you without relent–his hands touching every inch of you that he could trap beneath his fingers. 

You touched his face with purpose, firmly framing his cheeks as you pulled away and met his dark, dazed gaze. “It’s okay, I’m here,” you whispered. “I’m right here with you, Curtis.”

He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat as he dropped his forehead to yours, curling an arm over the top of your head. Almost mindlessly, he rutted against you, gasping in ragged breaths before he rocked against your belly more urgently with a long broken groan.

You felt warm, sticky ribbons of cum spurt along your torso, gasping in surprise at just how quickly you had unraveled him. Biting back a giggle at Curtis’ humiliated groan, you gently pet along his head as he hid his face against the crook of your neck, your free hand smoothing up and down the warm curve of his back.  

“It’s okay,” you whispered as you cupped his side. 

Heaving a ragged breath, Curtis eased away so he could meet your gaze. His face was flushed pink, his eyes still dilated and his features sheepish as he mumbled, “I don’t usually do that. It’s just…been a really long time for me.”

“I don’t mind,” you assured him. “There’s no rush. This is nice too,” you said, tipping your face up to catch his lips in another kiss, keeping this one slow and savoring and much less frantic than before.

When you let your lips trail away from Curtis’ lips, pressing kisses all over his handsome face and giggling while you did so, his eyes softened. The tension eased from his shoulders as he watched you with something that was so much more than fondness it made your chest flutter and expand. 

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Curtis whispered, voice tinged with awe as his fingers carefully caressed your cheek. 

The way Curtis looked at you made you feel like the most special and beautiful person in the world, and it was addictive, being under that kind of admiration. It was overwhelming, too, and a part of you wanted to hide as much as you wanted to bask in Curtis’ attention, so you tugged him in for another round of eager kisses to split the difference.

With each quiet grunt and primal groan that you drank from Curtis’ mouth, you grew more wet. Hitching your knees around his hips, you tugged him against you more firmly, and now you were the one desperately rutting against him, seeking more.

When your hand found Curtis’ cock, he gave a sharp gasp, his hips jerking into your grip as he pulled away so he could watch you. His eyes were so dark now they looked unnatural, his lips cherry pink and parted as you slowly began to stroke him, your eyes fixed on his. 

He made a quiet “hnnngh” sound when your thumb swiped over his tip, smearing the pre-cum along his head before you guided him to your entrance. There was an intensity in Curtis’ gaze that you had never experienced before–his eyes  so avid and heavy-lidded as he watched you as he slowly sank into you, inch by inch. 

Your breath hitched on a muffled moan as his thick cock stretched you open, gliding against your warm, tight walls until he was settled to the hilt and groaning as you clamped around him hard.

“You feel so good,” Curtis breathed, his hand gentle as he cupped your cheek and shifted his hips enough to make you gasp.

“So do you,” you whispered, tilting your hips in silent encouragement. 

Curtis was slow and tentative at first, keeping his thrusts shallow. You weren’t sure if he was afraid to hurt you, or afraid of not being buried as deep inside of you as possible, but regardless, you couldn’t suppress a whine as you writhed beneath him, desperate. 

“Give me more, Curtis,” you pleaded, rocking up against him and making him moan. “You won’t break me. I wanna feel you. Make me feel you. Make me take it.”

“Fuck,” Curtis droned, dropping his forhead against yours. Blindly, he reached for your hand with his free one, until your palms were as flush as your bodies and he could lace his fingers through yours, squeezing tight. 

It was all the warning you got before his hips retreated until just the head of him stretched your hole, then he shoved inside of you hard and deep, trapping your broken keen against his lips as he really started to fuck you. 

There was a feral air to him now as Curtis pounded you into the mattress, his mouth parted and hanging open as he greedily drank you in, grunting every time he was gifted a new sweet sound spilling past your tempting lips. 

“More!” you begged, head falling back and eyes rolling as you groped along Curtis’ bare ass with your free hand, spreading your legs wider and shoving up into the relentless plowing of his hips. 

With a quiet snarl, Curtis went at you even harder–faster–making your bed creak as the headboard slammed into the wall, emphasizing the tempo of your ruin. 

When Curtis’ hand fell away from your sweaty cheek so he could caress along your belly before rubbing circles along your clit, your climax detonated within you, sending tremors of pleasure erupting from your core and rattling through the rest of your body as you gave a ragged, broken keen of ecstasy.

It was that sound of visceral annihilation that broke Curtis, that sent him hurdling over the edge along with you. Burying his face against your neck and greedily inhaling your scent, he gave a wrecked shout as he came, his hips moving with a different purpose now–not to fuck you but to fill you, with every last drop of his cum. 

You were still gasping for breath as Curtis collapsed against you, keeping his face tucked against your neck as he trembled and clung to you like he was afraid you would suddenly disappear.

Trailing your fingers along his back, you touched Curtis so gently, with a quiet knowing that this man was so beyond touch-starved, and you could give him the comfort and reprieve he needed–that he deserved.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he rasped as he finally pulled away so he could see your face. “So perfect. I could stay lost in your forever,” he murmured as he gently stroked your cheek. 

Your smile was warm and a little shy as you leaned into his touch. “Let’s start with tonight,” you told him, reeling him in for a soft kiss before encouraging him to settle against you. 

Your body still thrummed, impossibly sated, as Curtis laid his warm, stubbled cheek against your chest. As you drifted off to sleep, it was with a small smile curling your lips and not a care in the world…

Or any idea that Curtis tipped his head up, his eyes even more fervent than before–devoted and possessive–as he watched you sleep. 

For hours and hours.

You tensed as you heard Curtis enter the bakery kitchen, and you hated that your body had that reaction to him. 

But in the days following your night together, he had been so intense–so unprofessional–and you were starting to regret sleeping with him. 

Starting to panic over it, too.

You were his boss, and it was so unprofessional of you to allow these lines to be crossed. Especially since you knew Curits was in a vulnerable position as he started to rebuild his life post-incarceration. You knew he needed this job, and you felt like you had taken advantage of him, no matter how unintentional. 

You did care about him. You tended to care about everyone, and you had so much empathy for Curtis, and appreciated him and how he helped you so much. 

But you didn’t like the way that he kept cornering you at work, stealing stray kisses and touches–even in front of customers–that made your face burn hot and ashamed.

This wasn’t how you wanted to run your business. This wasn’t the type of boss you wanted to be. 

So as you heard Curtis approach you as you paused in your early morning prep, you steeled yourself, knowing that you had to speak up. 

You had to set some boundaries to salvage this experience for you both. 

The fact that Curtis pressed close to your back, his hands framing your hips as he kissed your cheek, only solidified your decision. He was treating you like a committed partner, like the two of you were dating, and it was so obvious that you were not on the same page here.

“Good morning,” he hummed, his voice smoky and warm and making your belly flutter even though you wished it wouldn’t. 

“Hey,” you murmured, taking a deep breath before turning in his embrace. You felt yourself wilt under Curtis’ watchful gaze–which had this new glint to it that you couldn't quite decipher but it made your insides skitter and flutter all at once. “Curtis… we need to talk.” 

You watched as his features shifted from a warm kind of openness to shuttered and stoic–indifferent–as his shoulders hitched ever so slightly, his jaw ticking with tension. 

And you felt awful.

He had already been through so much and you didn’t want to hurt him. You were so mad at yourself for screwing this all up that you couldn’t help it as your eyes filled with tears and your nose burned along with them. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft despite the wariness now shadowing his gaze. 

“Look, I,” your voice broke and you shook your head, sniffing back your tears as you forced your eyes to meet his. “I think we just need to pump the brakes a little, okay? That night was… great, but I’m your boss, and I just…I shouldn’t have let that happen, and I’m so sorry for–”

“No,” Curtis snapped so sharply, you recoiled from him on instinct. 

He sighed, gently petting your hips as he took a deep breath, “You don’t need to be sorry. All of this happened for a reason. We’re meant to be together.”

“Curtis,” you feebly tried to interrupt him, but he stubbornly spoke over you. 

“Out of all the program assignments I could have gotten, I was placed with you. I know that was for a reason and… and you’ve become my everything, the bright light at the end of a really dark tunnel that I didn’t think I’d make it through.”

You couldn’t help it as a few tears spilled over, feeling more horrible and helpless by the second. 

Curtis shushed you, his touch so soft as he swiped away your tears. “When you know, you know, and I know you’re it for me.” He shifted closer to you, his hands rounding your hips and sliding along your back, urging your body flush to his as he whispered your name. “I don't think you realise the hold you have on me. We’re meant for each other, I know it. I’ll show you.”

You opened your mouth to object, but you weren’t quick enough, squeaking instead when Curtis kissed you hard–hungrily–like he had something to prove and he was determined to do so. He didn’t pull away until you were gasping for breath, sagged back against the metal prep table and dazed as you stared at him. 

“I’ll show you,” he husked as something sparked to life in his dark gaze. 

You shuddered, squealing as Curtis suddenly spun you around and bent you over the counter. 

“Curtis, no–” you started, whining as he roughly pulled down your pants and panties in one go. 

It was shameful, the way he could so easily make you wet, just a few brushes of his fingers along your cunt, a few teasing circles around your hole, and you were dripping for him as you buried your face against your arms to hide. 

Curtis shoved your legs apart as much as he could with your pants and underwear still tangled around your knees, and you moaned into your arms as he shoved his face against you from behind and devoured your cunt like it was his own personal feast.

You came embarrassingly fast, trembling hard as Curtis hummed against your slick folds and lapped up your cum. 

Too boneless to move, let alone resist, you could only whimper as you felt him stand and press against you, lining his cock up and shoving inside of you to the hilt and groaning as you whimpered. 

“I need to show you,” he panted as he started to fuck you with a feral edge that toed the line of pain. “That you were meant for me.” He shoved into you hard and deep, taking you up onto your toes. “That I love you.” Another rough, determined thrust that made you whine even as your pussy rejoiced and fluttered wildly.

Curtis curled over you, clinging to you as his hips pounded against your ass, as he filled you with his cock over and over again–fucking you like a man possessed–making you take every hard, throbbing inch of him without reprieve. 

“You’re mine. You’re mine,” he snarled, nipping at your earlobe, then groaning as you came with a helpless keen and a fresh wave of tears. “See, your body knows it already.”

A few more harsh ruts of his hips, and Curtis reached his own release with a groan. You sniffled as you felt the first wave of his spend filling you up, and then he pulled out of you, painting your slick, puffy cunt with a few ribbons of cum before spilling the rest into the gusset of your panties. 

For a long moment, it was silent–the heavy, suffocating kind that even drowned out the static filling your ears. 

Then Curtis pushed away from you, putting himself back together before his hands touched your bare hips, giving a possessive squeeze. He leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your tear-stained cheek before tugging up your pants and panties.  

He patted between your legs, making it impossible to ignore the fact that your underwear was filled with his cum and sticking to you uncomfortably. 

Curtis was gentle as he helped you straighten, turning you around to face him so he could steal a soft kiss from your lips. “Now those donuts you made won’t be the only thing stuffed with cream today,” he teased, giving you a wink before stepping away. 

You watched in a kind of shocked daze as he turned and easily lifted the large tray of donuts from the counter across from you. Curtis’ smile was playful and in complete contrast with the dark, predatory look in his eyes as he watched you, almost like he was daring you to start talking your nonsense again. 

You didn’t. 

Instead, you shuddered as you hugged yourself tightly, your gaze falling away from his as you tried not to cry.

“I’ll go set these in the case, and then I’ll be back to help you with the breads, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nodded, still staring at the floor as you felt the weight of Curtis’ gaze on you. 

He shifted closer, making a pleased sound before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good girl,” he murmured against your skin before he turned and strode from the room.

Leaving you trembling in his wake, feeling numb and out of place in your own kitchen as you grimaced at the feel of Curtis’ cum filling your panties–marking you as his.

I meeean, look. Look. I’m here for him 😌 He’s just a smitten kitten. Let him love you!

—

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“Oh hey!” he replied, brightly. He always seemed so excited to see another human. You’d spent your whole trip trying to tell yourself that he was just very lonely and you should be gentle with him. “Just wanted to check on the generator. Make sure it’s holding up well in this cold.”

“Yup! All good.” You gestured to the couple lamps scattered through the single room. “Lights are on, it’s warm and toasty in here. Everything’s fine.” You took a small step forward, your hand on the door, hoping he’d take the hint. But, of course, he didn’t. He never did. 

“What about groceries? You have everything you need? I could make another trek into town today.”

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay. I’m still making my way through the last haul you brought in. I’m good. You’ve taken very good care of me.”

He went stock still at that. It was odd, but almost everything he did struck you as odd. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice almost pleading.

“Yeah, of course. Absolutely. You’ll be getting a five star review from me. Promise.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, great!” He said, sort of shaking himself, almost like he was coming out of a trance or something. But before you had a chance to dwell on how strange that was, he’d moved on. “You going for a hike?”

“Uh, huh,” you said, grabbing your backpack from where it rested on the floor next to the dresser. You took another step forward, hoping to force Cole out of the doorway. “Figured I’d try one of the forest trails today.”

He didn’t move. “Cold day for it.”

“I’m all bundled up. I’ll be fine.” You took another step forward. You were starting to feel a little trapped.

His face suddenly lit up. “You should come by the farmhouse when you’re done. I could make you some hot chocolate to warm you up.”

“Oh, sure! Maybe!” Another step forward. “But probably not if it’s getting dark. Got plans to snuggle up with a book here tonight and go to bed early.”

“Oh yeah. That sounds really nice. Well, if you’re able, I’ll be there.”

“Okay, Cole. Thanks! For everything. But I’m gonna head out now.” He just blinked at you, so you gestured to the doorway and the wide expanse waiting for you outside.

“Oh! Right! Of course!” He finally backed up to let you out. “Well, I’ll just be up at the house. Holler if you need anything.”

“Will do, Cole. I know where to find you.”

He finally stepped away, letting you leave the cabin. You watched him as he got on his little snowmobile and drove back to the main house. He was very, very sweet (and kind of hot with the dark beard and the light eyes and the broad shoulders), but he had the social awareness of a gnat.

This was supposed to have been your retreat from civilization.

You were burned out. Too much work, too much relationship drama, too much everything. You needed a break. A big one.

So you filed a PTO request for two weeks off in the middle of winter and began to search for a secluded nature retreat. 

You thought you’d found a great one. A tiny home done up to resemble a rustic, cozy cabin. Only room enough for you. Located on the edge of dense woods, it had access to several hiking trails, a sledding hill, a skating pond, and a gorgeous lake. No internet, no cell signal, no neighbors. A great environment to completely unplug, reconnect with yourself, and recharge. It was perfect.

Well. It was almost perfect, as it turned out. Your cabin, you discovered when you got there, was one of three in a little cluster on the property. Yours was the only one currently booked, but there was still a neighbor to worry about. Cole, the proprietor, lived in a farmhouse a few acres away. But it felt much closer with how often you saw him. You didn’t think he’d gone a single day without stopping by your little cabin at least once. 

You tried to be kind. He’d told you on one of your first days that this place used to belong to his parents and they’d left it to him when they’d died. The isolation you saw as a nice little break from reality was what he lived with all the time. He must be desperate for company, especially in the depths of winter. So you excused the way he just kept popping over to make sure you had everything you needed, or how he’d interrupt your hikes to see if you were enjoying the view. Or when he’d knock on the door during your morning meditation to bring you breakfast. He was lonely. You felt sorry for him. So you could tolerate his overly friendly behavior. This trip may not have been the solitary paradise you’d envisioned, but it was still the rejuvenating break you’d needed. Everything was fine.

The next day, Cole, of course, found you as you were strapping on ice skates to go out on the frozen pond. “You didn’t come by the house last night.”

“No, I didn’t,” you confirmed, making sure to give him a bright smile to avoid any awkwardness. “I lost track of time on my hike, and it was already dark by the time I got back.” You didn’t apologize. You hadn’t said you definitely would.

“I missed you,” he said quietly, and that stopped you in your tracks. “Your stay here is almost over. I gotta soak up all the quality time with you that I can.”

That– that was a joke, right? Yeah, it had to be. Just a joke, it was fine. You gave him a good–natured chuckle. “Oh,” you said, “I’m sure you’ll be happy to be rid of me in a few days. A lot less work when no one’s here, huh?”

“I don’t know about that,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “It’s been really nice having you here.”

“Aw,” you smiled again, a little more sincere this time. “Thanks, Cole! It’s been a really great trip. I’ll be sad to leave.” Something hopeful flashed across his face before disappearing quickly. “Well,” you said as you stood up on the skates, “I’ll leave you to your work. Thanks again for everything.” Then you skated off.

You were so absorbed in your exercise and the bracing cold that you didn’t notice just how long he stood there and watched you skate.

You weren’t leaving until the next morning, but you’d started gathering your things together. Even though the cabin was just a single room, you’d still managed to spread out considerably over the last week. It was good to do this now, so you wouldn’t have to scramble before you left in the morning.

Like clockwork, there was a knock at the door. It almost felt a little sentimental. This was the last day of your trip. You were about to take your last hike here. And now Cole was bothering you for the last time. You smiled to yourself. Now that you were about to leave, now that you’d fully adjusted to the reality of your trip instead of the ideal fantasy that’d been in your head, you could admit that he had an awkward charm to him. At the very least, he’d make for a sweet story once you were back in the real world.

You opened the door with a genuine, warm grin. “Morning, Cole!” you greeted him. “What can I do you for?”

His answering smile couldn’t match your warmth. It had a brittle edge to it, almost… sad. His eyes cast around the room behind you. “You’re packing up already?” he asked in lieu of a greeting, alarmed. “I thought you weren’t leaving until tomorrow?”

“That’s still the plan! Just trying to get everything together while I can take my time with it.”

He didn’t say anything in response, just continued to look around, eyes almost seeming to catalog all of your things. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat pointedly that he focused on you again. “What’s on the docket for your last day, then?” he asked.

“One last hike to the lookout,” you told him. “Packed my camera, so gonna try to get some good pictures before the sun fully crests.”

He nodded absently. “You’ve been a really great guest,” he said with a conviction that would have felt strange from anyone else, but you were finally getting used to your host.

“Thanks, Cole. That’s so sweet of you,” you said sincerely. “I’ve really enjoyed staying here. I almost wish I didn’t have to leave. I don’t know how I’m going to go back to the real world after such a peaceful two weeks.”

Cole took a very long time to respond, just staring at you instead. Then he nodded to himself. Almost like he’d made a decision. Pulling a thermos out of his bag, he changed the subject without any warning at all. “I brought you some hot chocolate,” he said, thrusting the thermos at you. “My mom’s old recipe. Thought I’d bring it by before you left since you didn’t get to try it the other night.”

“Oh, okay,” you took the bottle from him, not knowing what else to do. “Thank you! That–  That’s really nice of you.”

“Maybe it can keep you warm on your hike,” he offered.

“Oh yeah! That’s really thoughtful of you. Thanks!” You smiled broadly.

Cole didn’t move, just stared at you expectantly when you didn’t do anything with the thermos. “You should try it,” he said lowly, almost pushy.

“Oh, sure.” You awkwardly unscrewed the cap under his watchful gaze. You took a cautious sip. It was very sweet, but it had an undertone of spice, and it was very warm. You probably would take it with you on your hike. That wasn’t a bad idea. “It’s delicious, Cole. Thank you so much!”

He beamed at you in return, but you couldn’t help noticing something slightly melancholy underneath. “Have a great hike,” he said, always so sincere. “I’ll see you tomorrow for checkout.”

Something was very wrong. 

You’d made it to the lookout and gotten some really great pictures. You’d sat and drank your hot chocolate and had taken a moment to say goodbye to this place. 

It was when you’d begun your hike back that you’d started feeling off. 

Your skin had gotten clammy. Your vision had started to swim. Your limbs felt weird. And you’d started to sweat. Even though it was so cold out. Even though it had started to snow, harder with each passing minute. It was snowing so hard out—it’d started so suddenly—and you were all alone and your insides were turning to jelly and you didn’t know which way was up. And you were all alone. You were all alone.

You fell to your knees just as your stomach emptied its contents. Your face was so wet, but you didn’t know if that was from snow or sweat or tears. You tried to call out for help, but you couldn’t get your voice to work. You’d never been so scared. What was happening? Were you going to die out here?

Something touched you. You would have jumped if you’d had the strength. You tried to turn your head to look but you could barely get your muscles to work. “Oh sweetheart,” a voice spoke from… somewhere. You were so dizzy and cloudy you couldn’t quite tell. “It hit you pretty hard, huh?” You didn’t know what the voice, a man, was talking about. There was guilt and sadness in his tone. You didn’t understand. Suddenly you were moving off the ground. You cried out, but he hushed you gently. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.” 

You finally placed his voice, as he carried you over to his snowmobile. Cole. It was Cole. He’d come to save you. That was your last conscious thought as he drove you down the trail.

Time passed strangely as you moved in and out of consciousness. You were in a dense fog, only able to pick up on sensations rather than details. You ached. You toggled wildly between chills and fever. You dreamed in shapes and colors. There were hands on you sometimes. Soft. Gentle. Everywhere. There was a voice in your ear always. Soothing. Comforting. You weren’t sure what the difference was between being awake and asleep. You layed on a cloud.

You had no idea how much time had passed when you finally woke up for real. Or where you were. Or how you had gotten here.

You were in a large bedroom with wood paneling and a slanted ceiling. The bed was so soft you thought you might sink into it. A clearly homemade quilt was on top of you, a patchwork of pinks and greens and blues with delicate flowers stitched across it. There was a glass of water on the bedside table next to you. On the nightstand was a copy of The Hobbit and a pair of reading glasses.

You were wearing a pink nightgown, frilly. It wasn’t like anything you owned. Someone had changed your clothes. Undressed you.

The door opened, and you pushed yourself back into the headboard. Cole came in, carrying a tray with more water, a Gatorade, and a bowl of soup. His face lit up at the sight of you.

“Oh, you’re awake! And you’re looking pretty lucid. That’s great news!” He set the tray down on your nightstand and immediately moved to press the back of his hand to your forehead. You tried to shy away, but it didn’t do any good. “Clammy,” he said, as he removed his hand, “but you aren’t burning up anymore. Thank goodness.”

“What–“ you started, but it came out as a croak. Your throat was bone-dry and your voice was so rough. You tried again. “What happened?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Cole said as he sat down on the bed right next to your hip. He was so close. “You got really sick on your hike. Thank god I found you when I did! You were collapsed and barely conscious. I’ve been taking care of you.”

You took a breath. You still felt so fuzzy. You looked around you again. This must be the farmhouse. “Why aren’t I in a hospital, if I was so sick?”

He stood back up, moving to the tray he’d brought in. “Oh, the snowstorm. All the roads are completely impassable. I had to bring you back here. Don’t worry, I took such good care of you.”

“How long?” you asked, terrified of the answer without fully knowing why.

“You’ve been in and out for the last three days.”

“Oh my god,” you tried to sit up, in a panic, but you felt so weak, like you didn’t have full control over your body. “I was supposed to be back at home, back to work. I need to call– “

“Hey, hey,” Cole put a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay. Calm down. I already took care of all that.” 

You let him guide you back down onto the mattress as you looked up at him, confused. “What–  What do you mean? How?”

“You had your emergency contact on your reservation form, remember? I called them, talked to them. Took care of everything. You don’t need to worry about that.”

You blinked at him. Everything, your brain and your body, felt like molasses. You didn’t understand.

“Hey,” he said, so softly, his hand briefly brushing against your cheek. He was so comfortable touching you. “Let’s get some food in you, huh?” He picked up the tray with the bowl of soup and carefully placed it on your lap. Sitting down next to you again, he picked up the spoon and began to move it towards your mouth.

Your face heated in embarrassment as you reached to take the spoon from him. “I can do it myself,” you said, feeling strangely small.

He hesitated before letting you take over. “Okay,” he finally said. “But don’t be embarrassed if you need help. I love taking care of you.”

Something about that sentiment made you deeply uncomfortable, but you didn’t say anything. What would you say? You still felt delirious. You needed him, even if the whole situation seemed off. But that was probably just Cole.

As you ate, he went over to the other side of the bed and layed down next to you, grabbing his glasses and the book from the nightstand. “I’ve been reading to you these last few days. I think you liked it. It always soothed you.” Then he opened the book and began reading. His voice was deep, steady, lulling. And you were still so tired. You finished the soup and then let yourself be carried back into sleep.

You dozed through the rest of the day. Surfacing every so often to the sound of Cole’s voice, steadily reading to you, before you were lulled back into unconsciousness. 

He woke you up in the evening for another bowl of soup. He watched you expectantly as you ate it. Eyes going so soft when you told him it was good.

When you were done, he cleared your tray. And then he walked over to the dresser and started taking off his clothes. 

“What are you doing?” you called out as loudly as you could muster, alarmed.

He turned his head as he just kept going, removing his shirt and tossing it into the nearby hamper. He shot you an amused look. “I’m getting ready for bed.”

“In here?” you asked, your voice as high as it could go even with how hoarse it still was.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “It’s my room. Where do you think I’ve been sleeping this whole time?”

“I– “ you started, but your head was starting to feel so heavy and it was hard to turn your thoughts into words. “Shouldn’t I be in a guest room then?” You let yourself lay back down as his hands moved to take off his pants. Things were happening too fast. You couldn’t track it.

“I needed to keep you close, baby–“ Baby?? “– to keep an eye on you. To make sure you were okay. You aren’t out of the woods yet.” He came back to the bed, crawling in next to you. He was wearing soft, cotton sleep pants, thankfully, but his chest was bare. “But don’t worry, I’ll get you there.”

You turned away from him, onto your side, as you struggled to keep your eyes open. This bout of exhaustion had come on so quickly, you couldn’t fight it anymore. You felt Cole right up against your back, his warm breath on your neck, but you were too weak, too tired, to move, to think. 

Just as you were pulled down down down into unconsciousness, he whispered in your ear, “This used to be my parent’s room. They were so happy here.”

You were floating. 

Stuck in that place between wakefulness and deep sleep, you hovered, unsure if you were dreaming or not. It was dark, only the impression of objects behind your eyelids. You were so warm, a heavy weight cosseting you.  

There was a low moaning sound right outside your awareness. Then, gentle touches on your stomach and the inside of your thigh. It felt nice. This was a nice dream.

You were being rocked on whatever cloud you were floating on. Slow and steady at first, rhythmic, but as the pace picked up, it got more erratic. The moaning got louder. You felt it deep in your chest. The grip on you tightened. You rocked harder and harder and harder and harder until suddenly, you were stilled. A wet warmth spread across your back. You felt it seeping into your skin. Becoming part of you. 

There was a feather-light tickling on the back of your neck. And then “I love you” was whispered on the wind wherever you were, before you sank into the darkness again.

You were woken by the sun beaming through the soft curtains. You blinked your eyes open and took a deep breath as you oriented yourself. You were in Cole’s farmhouse, after you’d gotten extremely sick. You took a quick inventory of your body. You stomach felt steady, if hungry. Your muscles didn’t ache. Your skin didn’t feel clammy. And, most importantly, your head felt completely clear for the first time since you’d left for your hike that day.

Another deep breath. Cole’s arm was draped over you and his body was pressed against your back. He snored loudly in your ear. What the fuck? You tried to remember what he’d said. That he needed to keep you close so he could keep an eye on you because you were so sick. That… That made sense. So maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt now. He’d probably gotten so close to you in his sleep, unknowingly. It hadn’t been on purpose. Even so, it was making you feel a little claustrophobic.

You tried to slip yourself out from under him as carefully and quietly as you could. There was no need to wake him. But when you started to move, you felt something on the small of your back. Something thick, dry, stiff, and cracking. What? No. No. That couldn’t–  But no, there was no mistaking what you felt. What else could it possibly be? What–  What was going on here? What had happened while you were sick?? Your skin was crawling. You needed to get out of here.

You got free of Cole and out of the bed without disturbing him too much, thank God. He just flopped onto your side of the bed, snuffling into your pillow. You couldn’t stop and think about the implications of that. There was no time. You needed to go.

As you moved through the room, you caught sight of what you were wearing. Right. First things first, you need to change out of this weird nightie. Where were your things? What had he done with what you’d been wearing? What you’d had with you?

You looked through the hamper first, trying not to touch much, for fear of what you might find. But none of your things were there. So you went to the closet next. When you opened it, you stopped dead.

There, neatly organized into one side, were all of the clothes you’d packed for your trip. Hung up in a nice little row. Your pants were stacked in the little built-in cubbies, and your shoes were lined up beneath everything on the floor. The other side contained all of Cole’s things, pressed up right against yours. Like they belonged there, together.

The one thing you didn’t see was your backpack or all of the important things that had been inside it—your keys, your money, your phone, your IDs. All of the things you would need to get the fuck out of here. You could search for that in a minute, check other parts of the house, maybe try going back to the cabin. Right now, you just needed to get out of this room. 

You grabbed a pair of pants and a top, not really paying attention to what they were, just changing as fast as you could. You grabbed the shoes with the best traction and turned around.

To find Cole standing next to the bed, in sleep pants and nothing else, sleepily scratching his beard, and staring at you. “Where are you going?” he asked. And while he looked and sounded casual, you could feel the tension filling the room.

“I– uh– I think it’s time for me to go, Cole, don’t you?”

“It isn’t safe,” he said, taking a step towards you. You automatically took a step back. His eyes narrowed. “You’re still sick.”

You shook your head wildly. “No, I’m feeling much better now. I feel fine. I can– I can go. I’m well enough to go.”

“That’s great,” he said, but there was evident surprise in his tone. “I’m so glad, but you still can’t leave. The– the snow! The roads aren’t clear. There’s no getting out. It always takes days for the plows to get out this far.”

You swallowed, taking a few more careful steps backward, away from him. He matched your movement. “Well. I think– I think I’ll go have a look for myself. I’m resourceful. I might be able to get through.” You didn’t care whether the roads were blocked or not. You’d trek as many miles as you needed to, through twelve feet of snow, just to get the hell out of here.

He took another step forward, and you took another step back. You were starting to feel like a caged animal. “You can’t leave,” he said with finality.

You took another step back, or tried to, when your back collided with the wall. No, not the wall. Something was sticking out of it, hitting you. The doorknob. You’d backed yourself into the door. Breathing out a sigh of cautious relief, you reached behind yourself, not daring to take your eyes off Cole. Surprisingl,y he didn’t move, didn’t attempt to stop you. You grabbed the handle and turned it. 

It rattled in your grasp, but, to your horror, it didn’t move.

“It locks from both sides with a key,” Cole informed you calmly, patting the pocket of his sleep pants. “Quirks of an old house.”

At that, all of your resolve crumbled. “Cole, please,” you begged. “I just want to go home. Please, let me go home!” Tears were starting to run down your face as panic took over.

His face dropped. “Oh sweetheart,” he said, with so much sympathy you wanted to scream. He rushed to you, cradling you in his arms. “You are home. That’s what I’ve been trying to get you to understand. It was fate that brought you here, to me. Don’t you feel it? Haven’t I taken such good care of you? Don’t you see what a good husband I could be to you? What a good life I could give you?” 

You pushed against him as hard as you could, trying to break his hold, but it was no use. He was so much stronger than you’d realized, his muscles so much firmer beneath your touch than you ever would have guessed. “Please,” you begged again. “I appreciate you taking such good care of me while I was sick, I really do. But I’m better now, I am. And I need to get back to my life!”

“Shh,” he ran a soothing hand down your back. “Yeah, that was my mistake. You should have been under for longer.” You looked at him, confused and so, so scared, as he let go of you, taking a few steps back to sit at the foot of the bed. “You reacted so strongly to the hot chocolate. You weren’t supposed to get that sick. Just enough to keep you here a few extra days. Long enough to see how well I could take care of you. What a good life I’d be able to give you. So much better than the one you were running from. But instead you were just–“ his expression collapsed into anguish. “It really scared me. So, last night, I switched to something else, decreased the dosage. But that apparently wasn’t enough. It’s been really hard to get the dosage right.”

All you could do was stare at him in shock. Horror. Terror. What had he done to you?! What was he going to do to you?!

He stood up again, restless, and you pressed yourself into the door, as much as you could. He looked sad, distressed by your fear. You almost wanted to laugh.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to hurt you. But–“ He stood up to his full height, shoulders suddenly set in determination. With a steely tone, he said, “I would do anything to keep you. Anything.”

Tag List

*.❤︎ Dialogue ❤︎.*

“I would do anything to keep you. Anything.”

“I always keep my promises.”

“Why would you ever want to leave?”

“You can’t tell me it isn’t true love.”

“I hurt you? What about what you did?”

“I only see you.”

“I don't think you realise the hold you have on me.”

“How could you leave me all alone?”

“After all I've done for you.”

“It's so romantic, isn't it?”

“No one can compare.”

“When you’re with me, I can see everything so clearly.”

“I only did it because I love you.”

“We can just forget this and be happy again.”

“You haven't even given me a chance.”

“It hurts me too.”

“I'm on my knees, begging…”

“It was all for you.”

“Nothing will keep me away.”

“I've been nothing but good to you.”

*.❤︎ Trope ❤︎.*

Obsessed at first sight

I'll follow you EVERYWHERE

Delulu for you you

This isn't deranged, it's romantic

Becoming a trainwreck after separation 

I always wanna be with you so I came in your (*insert food*)

Meet the family on our first date

I may have hurt you, but you hurt me worse 

Meeting the one

Bought the ring the day they asked you out 

Making you sick/injuring you so you can't leave

Love letters

Secret admirer

Dressing up just for you

I never knew love or pain until I met you

Won't let you move on

One night stand turned forever

This isn't just a rebound, this is true love 

Just say what I tell you to

A whole shrine just for you!

*.❤︎ Kink ❤︎.*

Overstimulation

Cockwarming

Cum in your panties 

Collar and/or leash

Cucking

Biting

Ice play

Sensual massage

Food play

Families strolled with children happily skipping beside them, a dog sprinted after a stick and a few lovers sat under the shade, completely absorbed in each others orbits.

Days like this you felt true relief, you felt free and looking around you had to admit, there was worse places to escape too. 

Your loose cotton skirt tickled your thighs as a light breeze blew through, scattering golden leaves around the space like confetti. 

You began to hum a cheery tune as you continued on your path towards home, swept up in the days beauty. 

The park gave way to a cobbled street that made you giggle as you wobbled over the uneven stones. You turned down the next street, though not quite as fun as the last, this street was your favourite, because on this street was home. 

You practically skipped up to the front door of you quaint two story apartment building and quickly input the entry code before stepping through the main door and making sure to close it behind you. You then took the steps up to the second floor and approached your oak front door, slipping your small backpack from your shoulders and reaching into the front pocket to find your keys. 

As you pushed the door open you felt an odd shiver up your spine and goose bumps riddled your skin. You quickly crossed the threshold and slammed the door closed behind you as your heart rate quickened. You flipped the lock, slipped on the safety chain, secured the top and bottom bolts before you finally took a deep breath and your heart rate steadied. 

"So stupid." You mumbled to yourself as you moved through the small hallway towards your kitchen, "You're fine, it's a good day."

"It sure is a good day Sunshine."

Your whole body stiffened, electricity pulsing up your spine that paralysed you to the spot as the air shifted behind you. You couldn't move, couldn't scream. You had a plan for this, why couldn't you remember the stupid plan?

A chest pressed to your back and a gloved hand smothered your mouth as you let out an almost silent whimper. 

"I told you sunshine, I'd always find you and I always keep my promises."

A sharp pinch tore into your neck and your body went limp.

Your eyelids blinked frantically as you tried to will you eyes to unblur. Your body felt heavy, hot and cramped. As your vision cleared and tears sprung from your eyes you realised it hadn't provided much relief as it was too dark to see anything clearly. You tried to scream but you became aware of the rough fabric between your teeth, biting into your cheeks. 

Your hands were bound together in front of you and as you tried to feel around you were only able to move a few inches before you hit a solid felt wall. You tried to shuffle back but were met with another wall immediately behind you. You focused your senses, scolding yourself internally. You planned for this stupid girl, you knew this could happen. You slowed your breathing, closed your eyes and concentrated. 

A rumble beneath you, a subtle jolt of your holdings every few seconds, limited light, your hands were trapped. You wiggled your feet and your eyes snapped open, your feet were free. Using your feet, you pushed yourself around in the space until you were flat on you back with your knees bent above you and with all your might you began to kick forcefully at the walls. 

There was a sudden jolt and the rumble stopped, you kept kicking, using as much force as you could muster. Suddenly a blinding light burned your eyes and fresh air filled the space. You blinked until you were able to glare up at your torturer, looming over you with one hand on the top of the open car trunk and one hand on his hip. Lloyd, your psycho ex-boyfriend. 

He smirked as your eyes welled with tears, fear licking through you like fire. 

"Well, well, Sunshine," He chimed, "You're making quite the racket back here."

You tried to scream at him from behind the gag, choking around the fabric as saliva dribbled from your lip.

"Now, now Baby, there's no need to be so dramatic." He pouted, "We're almost home. But I cant have you causing a fuss back here."

He let go of the trunk, slipping his hand into his back pocket and pulling out a syringe filled with clear liquid. He slipped the cap into his mouth, biting down to rip it off, releasing the sharp needle from its confines before he spat the lid at your aching body.

"Anyone would think you don't want to be here Sunshine." He teased, "Aren't you happy to see me?"

He pounced forward, gripping your hair in his free hand and tugging your head back. 

"God I missed you Baby." He sighed adoringly, "We belong together, we always did. You should have known I wouldn't let you just move on without me. You're mine cupcake, you always will be."

The second needled pinched your skin once more as tears slid over your cheeks. This time you welcomed the darkness with open arms. You could only hope you didn't wake up. 

Light seeped underneath your heavy eyelids as you tried to connect with your own body. Your eyes flicked back and forth under closed lids as you willed yourself to move. You started with your legs, screaming at them in your brain but you could only manage a wiggle of your toes. You tried your arms next, feeling a tingling sensation begin to spread from your fingertips, slowly working its way down your arm. 

Your brain suddenly alerted you to the danger, Lloyd, and your whole body snapped to attention. Your eyes pushed open and you were immediately overwhelmed by being able to feel all your limbs at once.

You moved your head left and right, feeling the soft silk beneath you. The gag was still stuck between your teeth and drenched with your spit. You looked upwards as you tried to pull your arms unsuccessfully, noticing they were tied together and attached to the decorative metal head board that you knew all to well.

You chanced a glance down, already knowing what you'd find before you did, seeing that each ankle was securely attached to a separate corner of the bed base. You were spread eagle, at his mercy, in the very place you used to beg for it. The place you once considered home.

The bedroom door thrust open, connecting against the adjoining wall with a harsh slam.

"Oh good you're awake." Lloyd deadpanned as he approached the side of the bed. 

He folded his body, looming over you like the predator he was, slowly taking in every inch of you as you glared back. His tongue lapped at his lower lip as his hand came down and grabbed at his groin. 

"I think it's time we got reacquainted don't you Sweetheart?" He purred with a smirk. "A year is a long time."

Lloyd stood upright, while you spat around the gag, and he stalked the end of the bed.

"Have had to make due with my hand this whole damn time." He grunted, placing his hands on the bed frame between your feet and staring at the space between your legs. 

His boner was already visible beneath his beige slacks. Your eyes widened in fear as he stood back up and slowly began stripping himself of his clothes. 

"Don't look so worried Sunshine." He purred as he stepped out of his trousers, his cock already standing at attention, tickling his belly button. "I already got rid of your panties before I tied you up, you know how much I hate not being able to get to my pretty little kitty."

You screeched around the gag again, glaring at him viciously. 

"Oh you wanna talk Sunshine?" He teased, "Sure Baby, but don't be a bitch or I won't hesitate to knock you the fuck out."

He paced around the bed, reaching down to rip the gag from your mouth. You coughed harshly and stretched your sore cheeks. 

"What do you say Baby?" Lloyd pouted.

You snapped your eyes to his, glaring daggers at him.

"Fuck you." You grunted.

The sound of the slap registered before the sting as fresh tears wept from your eyes and your head snapped sideways. 

"What did I fucking say Sunshine?" Lloyd snapped. "Keep that god damn mouth under control. I'm gonna fuck you either way but I'd prefer you to be conscious."

You knew he meant it and the idea of him abusing your body whilst you slept made bile rise in your throat. 

"Okay?" He grunted. 

You nodded slowly, tracking his movements with glazed eyes as he made his way back round the bed, before climbing up from the bottom onto his knees. He crawled slowly towards your core, pushing the skirt up and over your lower abdomen. 

"There she is." He purred at your cunt. Leaning down to give a chaste kiss to your mound. "I've missed you my perfect little kitty."

His knees settled between your thighs and he sat back on his haunches, beginning to slowly stroke his ridged length that was already leaking at the tip.

"I wanna see it." He groaned as he pleasured himself. 

You knew what he was referring too, the very thing you always kept hidden, the thing that reminded you why you left in the first place. 

"No, please." You whimpered. "Don't."

"I need to see it Sunshine." He grunted. His free had moved towards your shirt, fingertips slowly caressing the seam before he pushed it up over your breasts. 

He moaned loudly and began tracing his thumb over the top of your hip, over the raised red scars that sat there. One word, menacing, consuming, dangerous, LLOYD.

"Fuck Cupcake, you're gonna make me cum already." He grunted through gritted teeth. 

He released his cock and threw himself over you, licking a slow stripe over the scar as he cock hit your thigh with a slap. 

"Fuck I love seeing my marks on you Baby." He mumbled into your soft flesh, "M'gonna mark you up so good, remind you who you belong too."

He nipped at the scar once, before pressing kisses to your stomach, making his way to the valley between your breasts. His hips began rutting into your thigh as he licked over one of your breasts and then he took the nipple in his mouth, sucking harshly. 

You hissed through your teeth, clenching your eyes tight when the familiar feeling of arousal began to make its way to your core. 

"No." You whispered, more at yourself that Lloyd. 

"Yes Baby." He murmured over your breast as he moved to the other, "Yes."

"Oh god." You whimpered quietly as more wetness made it's way between your thighs.

This was how he did it. How he always got you. He knew how to work your body better than you knew yourself and he would always use it against you.

Lloyd's tongue left a wet trail up to your collarbone where he nipped and sucked over the bone before settling in the crook of your neck.

His cock nudged at your entrance, tip slipping between the folds.

"You can say you don't want this all you like Baby," Lloyd said between kisses to your neck, "but you're already so fucking wet. You want this. You want me."

"No." You moaned as he breached through your folds with his tip. Your stomach clenched as you felt the familiar stretch of his hard cock massaging your walls until he hit the hilt, balls resting against your ass.

"That's it Baby." Lloyd purred. "Just as perfect as I remember."

His hands took hold of your hips, holding you firmly in place as he prepared for his assault.

"Brace yourself Baby," He sneered into your skin, "This is gonna hurt."

Suddenly his teeth were piercing the skin on your neck as he began a rhymatic assault of harsh thrusts against your cervix.

You screamed as tears began to freefall down your face, tickling at your ears.

Lloyd pulled his face back, smiling at you psychotically with blood staining his teeth and dripping from his lips.

"My baby." He grunted as he continued to bruise your insides. "My sunshine. My tight little cunt."

His face thrust into your neck again on the other side, teeth ripping through your tender flesh as he rutted and groaned.

Despite the tears, despite the blood dribbling onto the sheets and the pain searing at you from within, you felt the shameful building of an orgasm in your core.

Your hips had a mind of their own, pushing up to meet his thrusts as he sent you hurtling towards bliss.

"You're mine Baby." He grunted as he released your skin from his unrelenting bite. "All mine. I'm never letting you get away again."

A few painful pounds later and you were pushed over the edge. You screamed, your back forcing itself from the bed, head tipped back as stars danced over your vision and the sweet relief of your intense climax whisked you away.

Your cunt clenched around Lloyds cock, sending him hurtling over with you with a few sloppy thrusts into your sore pussy.

You came down panting, body relaxing onto the bed as the shame built and the tears returned with a vengeance.

Lloyd pushed himself off of you, grinning from ear to ear as he swiped his hand across his mouth, spreading your blood over his jaw.

"I hate you." You whimpered, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

Lloyd let out a loud maniacal laugh.

“Jesus, Tony, this place is insane.” Rhodey gasps, his eyes widening at the sheer volume of fairy lights twinkling around the room, and at the servers walking around, their trays piled high with canapes whilst the gentle melody of the orchestra fills the air. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Tony chuckles, grabbing a glass off a tray. “No expense spared for our annual gala.” 

As the other Avengers circle the room, gazing at the gilded decor, Y/N lingers by the doorway, wondering why she ever came. She's felt uneasy for several nights, convinced that someone’s been following her and watching her when she’s not looking. Despite reassurances from the other Avengers that the tower is secure and she’s safe, she’s still terrified.

And the fact that this party is a masquerade ball isn’t helping, either. The thought of being surrounded by people in disguises when she’s already terrified someone is stalking her sounds more like her worst nightmare than a fun night out. But Natasha and the others coaxed her to the party, promising they’d keep her safe and that a good time was just what she needed.

Suddenly, the lights flicker once, then twice, sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. “Hey, it’s alright.” Steve chuckles lightly, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just the wiring in this building. “It seems electronics aren't Stark's forte.” 

“I heard that, Rogers.” Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s for the aesthetic.” He mutters before going back to his drink.

“Well, whatever it is, it feels like there’s a chill in here.” Y/N shudders.

“Have a drink, and you'll feel better.” Natasha insists, sipping from a glass of red wine that matches both her nails and her gown. The others agree, reassuring her once more that everything is fine. Y/N nods, turning and heading to the bar.

Just a couple of drinks and some snacks, then she’ll go.

Arriving at the bar, she orders her drink, frowning at the small glass the bartender slides back over to her. Clearly, Tony’s statement about not sparing any expense for tonight did not extend to the alcohol. Still, she thinks, beggars can't be choosers. So, she takes a few sips, wincing as the alcohol burns her throat. Yet, she continues to sip, hoping it loosens her nerves… or at least warms her up a little. She turns, ready to head back to her friends…. And then stumbles into a figure, spilling the rest of her drink. Y/N lets out a groan. Just fucking brilliant.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going, and…”

”No, please. It was my fault.” The man responds. “And besides, there are worse things in life that could happen than having a beautiful woman bump into me.” He takes her hand in one of his leather gloves, pressing a tender kiss to it. Her heart pounds once more, and Y/N this time, it’s not from fear.

Whoever this man is, he’s charming as hell, and incredibly captivating. “Please, let me get you another.” He motions to her empty glass, gently pushing past her to go to the bar. As he laughs and jokes with the bartender, Y/N watches him.

Even though everyone here is wearing a masquerade mask, she’s met a lot of the guests here tonight before, usually in passing. But she definitely doesn’t recognise him. A black mask hides most of his face, exposing only his mouth, jawline, and eyes, while his brown hair is pulled back in a bun. He’s dressed head-to-toe in black, except for the intricate silver embroidery on his cape. And oh god, the depth of his eyes. So blue, so beautiful. Like the ocean after a storm, sparkling and welcoming.

”Who are you?” She asks when he returns, passing her drink over. The man chuckles warmly.

“Isn’t the point of these masquerade balls that you don’t know who people are?”

“Well, I’d like to know.” She retorts, taking a sip from her glass. When the champagne hits her lips, she splutters a little. This definitely isn’t from the cheap bottle. 

The man quirks a brow, chuckling again. “Is something wrong? Not used to expensive things?” For a moment, she’s offended, believing he’s mocking her. Instead, he grins, tilting his head at her slightly, regarding her with a curious glint in his eye. “…That’s a shame.”

“You still haven’t told me your name.” She retorts, taking another sip and trying to look dignified whilst also trying desperately to ignore her growing feelings for this mysterious stranger.

“You know, most people thank those who buy them expensive drinks, rather than demanding to know their names.” He retorts with a smirk.

"I'm not being demanding!" she insists. “But…thank you.” She murmurs. “For the champagne, I mean.”

“You’re welcome, darling.” That makes her splutter again, and another chuckle leaves the stranger’s mouth. “But because you’ve been such an incredible company tonight, I’ll be kind and tell you my name. Call me James,” he orders with a warm smile.

James. Why is that so familiar? But before she can dwell too much on the thought, he finishes the rest of his champagne, wiping the remnants away with his finger.

And Y/N suddenly pictures his finger tracing the curve of her lips, then along her jawline, drawing her closer… and then-

"Will you dance with me?" He asks, thankfully cutting through her thoughts. 

“Hm?” He gestures towards the orchestra playing a light waltz, and the couples already twirling around the room. 

“You want me to dance with you?” she repeats, a hint of disbelief in her voice and her brow furrowing.

“Why not?” He asks, genuinely puzzled. “You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight. “I want to show you off,” and Y/N feels her throat go dry, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Whoever this man is, he’s smooth as hell. Her heart still racing, Y/N looks over at the couples swaying on the dance floor.

At first, she thinks it's a terrible idea, being seen so openly. But the more she thinks about it, the more she wants to do it. Because after so much time spent being afraid, why shouldn’t she dance with him? Why shouldn’t she have a night where she finds love and gets to be the main character in her own romance story?

So, she takes James’ leather-gloved hand, smiling as his fingers close over hers, and lets him lead her onto the dance floor. The crowd parts, and a hush falls as all eyes turn to them. Sensing her nerves, James gently cups her chin in his hand, guiding her face to meet his gaze. “Don’t focus on them, my love. Just stay with me.”

My love. Those two words sound so sweet, so… perfect coming from his mouth. He pulls her closer, into a passionate dance, leading her the whole time. It’s so incredible, she feels like she’s walking on air, like they’re the only two people in the room. He spins her under his arm and dips her effortlessly, making her gasp. In an instant, she’s back in his arms, being pulled closer towards him. He smirks, as if knowing the effect he has on her. He smells intoxicating…powerful…

Without a second thought, Y/N's lips meet his in a deep, passionate kiss. At first, he kisses her back, their lips meeting with a desperate hunger. But then, he pulls apart, chuckling at her disappointment. “Not here. I don’t want these other men to see you.” 

He pulls her off the dance floor, guiding her down a secluded hallway. As soon as they’re out of sight, he pushes her against the wall, returning his lips to her mouth and travelling down her chin and neck. “James.” She moans.

“Say it again.” He orders, his voice deep and slightly accented. As she does, a low groan escapes him, and his grin widens. “Fuck…you’re so gorgeous. These fuckers don’t deserve you. I’ll show you just how worthy you are.”

Something cold brushes against her skin, and for a moment, she thinks it’s his hand. But then, something sharp traces her jawline. When she opens her eyes, she feels the cold, sharp edge of a knife pressed against her throat.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” She gasps, her blood going cold. “Why do you have that?”

“Shhh…quiet.” He whispers, delicately cupping her cheek. “It’s okay, darling. I won’t hurt you. I love you too much for that. Honestly, I don't think you realise the hold you have on me.” he chuckles. Her eyes dart towards the door, back to the safety of the party, of the Avengers. If she just ran, she could be safe. Instead, James tightens his grip on her with just one hand. “Uh uh.” He tuts. “Why would you ever want to leave?”

“Who the hell are you?” she spits, struggling in his grasp.

“I told you, James," he says, a smirk playing on his lips as he tilts his head. “But your friends call me The Winter Soldier.” Y/N’s heart leaps into her throat. Even though she’s not an Avenger, she’s heard enough about The Winter Soldier and his reputation. How could she have been so stupid to let this happen? To be manipulated and drawn in by him?

With his free hand, he reaches up, untying his mask and letting it fall to the floor. Thin scars trace patterns across his face, and dark eyeliner accentuates his eyes. “I’ve always wanted a plaything. And I’ve been watching you for a while, Y/N.” He whispers, chuckling when he sees how terrified she looks. 

“That was you?” she asks, icy dread seeping into her as her heart continues to hammer against her ribs. 

“Of course it was,” he chuckles. “From the first time I saw you, I just knew I had to have you." He steps closer, his breath hot on her skin. "You’re so beautiful, and so smart, Y/N. And that’s why you’re wasted here, with these assholes. They don’t deserve you. But I do.” He leans in, kissing her hungrily, deeply, despite her attempts to push him away. “You’re mine. And I would do anything to keep you. Anything.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pleased, Wilson proceeded.

“The regiment has been victorious these past two raids. Our rivals across the river are subdued and we may now rest assured that our people may enjoy peace.

“We owe you many thanks for your leadership, Barnes.” He dipped his chin to Bucky. “All these years you have protected our humble city and its resources without a word of complaint. While some may pursue favors or rewards, you have not asked for anything.” Wilson’s proud smile seemed to uplift all present in the room. “Until now. And I would not be a worthy leader if I failed to fulfill your request. As a token of our gratitude for your loyalty, I present to you --”

A small perplexed frown graced your features, before patiently waiting to hear more.

The city leader now addressed you.

“From now on, your duties to the city will be handled by Barnes,” Wilson declared. “You and Barnes shall be united under one household, your spirits bound in blessed matrimony.”

“I—Sir, I must be misunderstanding,” you uttered. You glanced Bucky’s way. “I took an oath to serve the city with the Sisterhood. I cannot mar--”

Bucky knew your protests would change nothing. It must have sounded ludicrous to you. You had promised yourself to the Sisterhood, devoted your life to serving the community -- the young, the ill, those who had no one else. Your devotion exempted you from matrimony and associated social expectations.

Until today.

You were released from your vows. Now, your loyalty was to one man only. You would serve only him -- Bucky Barnes. Your husband since this very night.

The Sisterhood were free to form intimate bonds, equally free to abstain as they so desired. You had admired the male form from afar; had felt your body grow flushed with the tingles from a caress here, a kiss. But you had never consummated those light affections. There had been no urgency, no craving, to cross that final line with someone.

Bucky led you up to the bedroom that would belong to both of you from now on.

Once the door closed, his grip on your hand loosened, and you carried on toward the window. Its frame beckoned to you, tempting you with an escape you knew was impossible. You could no longer move about the city freely with your Sisters.

Bucky came and stood behind you, close, unable to resist running his palms up your arms. His face dipped to breathe in your scent, nuzzling into your crown.

The ceremony had felt a dream to you. And now you were alone with your husband.

“Why?” you could not help asking, even if it didn’t matter. “With all your victories, you might have chosen anyone from our city.”

“No one can compare,” he murmured against your hair. “I made my choice long ago.”

He had watched you for more than a year. He had watched you chase the little ones, instruct the teens in weaving and baking. He had sat among the listeners who turned up to listen to the Sisterhood recite legends and poems; soaking in your recitation in such sweet and crystal tones. He had even admired your curvaceous form as you swam in the seclusion of the Sisterhood’s pond. The thin shift you wore had soaked through, clinging to your body; you teased his eyes, making his fingers itch to caress you.

Away on raids, you visited his dreams. He was not tempted to remain in slumber. The sooner he and his crew completed the mission, the sooner he could return home to you.

His fingers trailed the laces of your dress until they loosened. With a mere pinch of his fingers, he drew your dress off your shoulders, the fabric breathing a sigh on its way to a puddle at your feet. You shivered but the coolness did not linger long against the heat of Bucky’s body brushing directly against you.

He turned you, forced you to look at him. The hearth had been stirred up, brightening the room so that not an inch of the man before you was hidden. He tugged his shirt off. You turned your eyes away from his naked torso.

Fingers twisted in your shift while you heart seemed to beat up through your throat. You have seen men in a state of undress when tending to the ill. But this – Bucky Barnes in all his glory, glowing with health and heat. You could not prepare yourself for it. Even less so when you could see him in the motions of disrobing in front of you.

“My wife.”

Two words, a lifetime sentence, a promise you made today that betrayed your oath to the Sisterhood.

Gulping, you turned your eyes to him, keeping your gaze on his face. He on the other hand did not hide the way he drank in the sight of you from head to toe. His hands gripped your hips, jerking you close enough for him to claim your lips. All you managed was a pitiful sound before you were overwhelmed by the siege of his hungry mouth on yours. His hand held you in place by your neck. His tongue dipped past your lips, plundering without heed of how you trembled.

When you finally stole enough breath to steady yourself, enough to push at him, Bucky captured you by your thigh and heaved you off the floor. He carried you the short distance to the bed.

Tossed down, dizzied, you heard a rending noise a second too late to realize he had torn your shift down the middle.

Thus, with you so exposed before your husband, your limbs immediately squirmed, trying to curl in on yourself.

His large, calloused hands groped with relish – everywhere, Bucky’s fingers dug into your flesh, taking inventory of the softness, pleased with the spoils of his labor. Bucky was such an imposing figure outside these rooms. Here, in your marital bed where he loomed with a heavy hunger you could nearly taste, that singed the air you breathed in, there would be no escape. No hiding your loveliness from him, nor restraining how he coveted you.

Kisses, greedy and sharp along your neck. Hair on his forearms and chest grazed your skin and made you shy away without success. Thick fingers kneaded your rounded thighs. You whined at his long suckle of your nipple, sounds rounding out of your throat you barely recognized. All of this compounded the tickle in your core so that it grew into a restless simmer all over your body. Bucky’s attention was stifling, stupefying, so that while your mind raced with the wrongness of belonging to his marital bed, you could only moan with each kiss.

His mouth had migrated below your belly. Your knees shuffled in vain against his wide shoulders. He licked up your cunt, brought fingers down to invade the delicate flesh that yielded to his invasion. You sobbed at the thrust of two thick fingers. Bucky huffed against the growing dew of your pussy, sucking and teasing you mercilessly so that your virgin cunt relaxed by measures for his fingers to stroke. Seek your sensitive spots. You panted and sighed in high octaves so that he knew his fingertips nudged just right. He dipped down to lick at the perspiration between your breasts, breathing deeply of your warm scent that he had yearned to capture for months. No longer was he forced to treasure you from afar.

In that gravelly tenor, Bucky urged you to surrender. You answered his patience so beautifully. His eyes flickered to your face, contorted in protest, yes – tears glistened in lines down your temples and your cry of pleasure had him nearly reaching his own peak.

With a rough hum, he pulled away enough to line up and bully his cock into you. He watched your mouth drop open. He kept pressing into your sweet cunt. Fully sheathed, he soaked in your broken moan.

Bucky clutched a handful of your hair. He held you just so, pounding into you. He nipped at your chin, greedily watching you whine with each pump of his hips.

“My wife.” So sweet. So tight.

“Mine.” All his from now on.

"Of course, you are a good woman who follows the rules," he teased. "I just know you would be so good for me, too. When you're with me, I can see everything so clearly."

In retrospect, it felt like just a matter of time before he escalated things. He'd secretly been working on the lock and hinges of his door, making sure he would never fully be locked in. When it was ready, he waited for your next shift, confident in his plan.

You'd barely started mopping the floors when you felt his hands on you. You tried to gasp, scream, anything but he stopped you with a passionate kiss.

"My Queen of Hearts, in my hands at last," he breathes as his hands continue to roam. Your instincts had you freezing up which made him think you were into his touches.

"So much softness and sweetness," he purrs, his smile looking like the Cheshire cat's.

Security must have finally noticed the activity in the cameras because Jefferson was subdued soon after, swearing, vowing to never stop loving you. Promising to have you in his arms again, vowing to follow you everywhere.

Three years ago and you've yet to feel safe again.

Moving to a city in another part of the country was all you could think to do. It was easy enough to find another janitorial job. Not many takers for manual labor at off hours. You'd started keeping mace in your purse and in your work apron. Yeah, you were cleaning up empty buildings, but you couldn't be too safe.

Especially when assholes like Travis liked to jump scare you. You tolerated him because he was actually a good coworker who did his share of the work and did it well. But damn did he still get on your nerves. You'd started listening out for the clinking sound of his St. Joseph necklace to give you a heads up that he was around.

The fact that you hadn't heard from him all night actually had you more on edge than if you were expecting him around every corner.

As you finish work, you pack everything up, triple checking the locks and still keeping an ear out for trouble. The tension in your shoulders is hurting so much you're tempted to use some of your meager paycheck for a massage. It's a pipe-dream for now, though. You remind yourself to just get on the bus and get home. Then you can rest.

Rent for your little studio apartment takes up the majority of your paycheck, but it's in a secure building. Lots of locks, even a security camera or two. It's not great, but it's those touches that help turn your little shoebox into a sanctuary.

It's why you didn't notice the lights were on when you opened the door.

Jefferson grabs you, pulling you inside and smiles that Cheshire grin that haunts your nightmares.

"J...Jefferson? How?" you stammer.

"Of course the Queen of my Heart remembers me," he coos, caressing your cheek. "It's taken me far too long to get back to you but I promise, I'll make it up to you. I even have a gift for you!"

He moves you to the tiny table where he's set up a small tea party with a bouquet of black roses in a vase. From one of the flowers you see a very familiar St. Joseph necklace.

"T..Travis?"

"Ah, my Queen has cleverly deduced one of her presents," Jefferson beams. "He will not be bothering you, ever again."

"What did you do?" you breathe, not trusting yourself to speak above a whisper.

"I made you some tea and biscuits," he answers, matter-of-factly. "Another way of showing how I will take care of you, now that we're free to be together."

He holds out a chair and you sit. You're too in shock to try to fight him.

"I understand that this is a lot," he remarks. "Considering how happy I am to be here, I can only imagine how happy you are to see me."

"You were...in prison."

"Emphasis on 'was' my dear," he winks at you. "You'd think they would have learned after the first time that I'll always find a way out. And this time I only had to kill one person to get out!" You gasp and Jefferson takes your hand. "He was in between us and our happiness, my Heart. It had to be done."

"And...Travis?"

"A gift to beg your forgiveness for taking so long," he replies.

"You killed him, too?"

"It was the only way to be certain he'd stop bothering you."

A tear falls as the weight of Jefferson's crimes hit you.

"I know, it's overwhelming," he smiles softly. "But you'll never need to be afraid again."