#dxmurewrites

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The Danforth estate was a monument of power, built on foundations of blood and sacrifice. To the world, it was a fortress of wealth - a grand hotel on one side of the grounds, the family home on the other.

It's stone walls encased everything like a gilded cage, hiding the outside world from the secrets within. 

"You're far too quiet tonight." 

Titus barely glances up from the cuff links he's removing, the gold catching the low light of the room. You stood on the marble balcony, hands resting against the railing as you overlook the now empty grounds before you.

The sun was setting, your mind deep in thought as you think over the near hunt. Dusk was approaching, and you couldn't help but wonder what tonight had in store for you.

What Titus had in store for you.

"Sweetheart?" He speaks again, a small hint of displeasure in his tone at your silence. 

You didn't turn around. You didn't have to. You feel the heat radiating off of Titus Danforth as he steps up behind you, his hands sliding familiarly around your waist as he pulls you against him.

He leans down, his nose pressing into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin. 

The smell of his cologne engulfs you, and you relax against him, angling your head as he presses kiss after kiss on your bare skin until he reaches your ear.

"Don't pick the cellar tonight," He all but whispers, finally causing you to break into an airy chuckle. "It doesn't count as a good hiding spot if I find you drinking the vintage." 

"You took too long to find me," You counter, turning around slowly in his arms until your back is pressed to the railing. "And it was good vintage."

"It was mine."

"And now it's gone," Your hands press against his chest. "How tragic."

"And if I recall correctly," He laughs with you, low and warm, and you smile at the sound. "I found you within two hours."

Titus watched you intently, eyes sharp, amusement and something else underneath that was undeniably him.

Hungry.

You reach up to undo his top button, slowly making your way down until his shirt hung off of him. He was yet to dress into his hunting attire, still wearing the suit he wore for the gala you had both attended.

Goosebumps litter his skin instantly as the breeze hits him, reminding you both of the very public space you had chosen to have a conversation.

"You and I have very different memories of that night," You murmur, dragging your hands softly down his bare chest until they reach his belt. "Either way, you won, no need to gloat."

"You won too."

"Being fucked in the wine cellar doesn't exactly count as winning."

"I don't remember you complaining," Titus grabs your wrists before they can reach for his zipper. "Are you trying to distract me wife?"

"Tire you out seems like the more appropriate description," You shrug once. "Is it working husband?"

You say his title back like an insult more than a name.

He rolls his eyes. "Fucking you on the balcony now won't stop me from finding you later tonight sweetheart," He scoffs, but there's a playful edge to it. "Playing dirty is rather beneath you."

"I could be beneath you instead?"

Titus says your name in warning, loosening his grip on your wrist before he turns to walk back inside. You follow after him with a smirk, stopping to lean against the doorframe as you watch him shrug his shirt off his back.

He looks over his shoulder as he removes the rest of his clothing, his eyes darting over the white silk dress he made you wear for every hunt.

It was a simple garment, devoid of any zips or ties that would make your run constricting. Your feet were bare, the only other item on you being the very ring Titus had put on your finger just years prior. 

"You remember the safe word?" He asks as he steps into his walk in wardrobe, not even bothering to poke his head out as you hum your reply.

He yells out for a proper response, to which you say yes even louder.

It was the same every year. Every time someone new married into the family, they were made to participate in the games chosen by Mr Le Bail.

You didn't have to participate being a spouse, but that didn't mean you couldn't. 

He didn't let you regardless. The risk of you being hurt by the guest too high on his mind.

Last year, it was some nephew. 

This year, it was a cousin in the Danforth line that you actually knew and thoroughly disliked. She was every bit egotistical, and her new fiancee wasn't far off.

They had both made snide comments when you had married into the family - not being from wealth, and Titus was itching for the two to be wed and dealt with. 

He called your hunts 'practice'. 

Not that you were ever in any real danger, save for the bruises he'd leave on your hips or thighs once he'd find you.

For one night a year sometimes more,  when Ursula was away for business, his father tucked away with his care team on the other side of the wing and the staff all sent home early. 

You were his to play with.

You both had the entire estate to yourselves.

Titus steps back into the room. He's dressed for the chase, clad in his dark hunting leathers that flexed with every moment of his broad shoulders.

A knife was sheathed on his side, not that he ever used it on you - save for the many dresses he had torn apart in the past.

His thighs looked distractingly bigger now that he wore his gear, and you bite your lip to stop the smirk from forming on your lips.

He looked every bit the apex predator that his father had raised him to be, yet when his gaze landed on you, the hardness in his eyes shattered into something softer, something he reserved just for you.

"Are you bringing the tranq this time?" You ask, still leaning against the door.

Titus lets out a short, dry laugh as he shakes his head - the kind of laugh he only shared with you.

"No sweetheart, I'm not," He steps forward until he stands in front, his now gloved thumb reaching up and tracing the line of your jaw. "There's no fun in that," He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as you hum your agreement once again.

"Shall we go over the ground rules again?"

"No need, I remember, same as every year," You look up at him, heart fluttering in your chest. "Are you going to give me a proper head start this time?'

Titus doesn’t answer straight away.

Instead, he looks behind you, looking out to the vast stretch of forest that surrounds the manor. The woods will be completely covered in darkness in no time, the lights all switched off.

Dense and endless, most people wouldn't step foot out there alone.

Most people aren't you.

Most people aren't his.

Not yet at least. When his father finally croaks, the world will be his.

But Titus didn't worry for that just yet, his world stood in front of him, looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered.

"Worried?" He says at last, voice calm despite the eagerness in his body. 

You scoff softly, an eyebrow raised. "Not the word I'd choose, you haven't told me yet what you want if you win, I'm curious."

If.

He always won. Every time. 

The longest you had managed to stay hidden was six hours - only because you had hidden in your bedroom of all places. A memory he brings up often at the silliness of it all.

He chuckles at the idea of not winning. 

"If?" He repeats, and he brings your head up with a tilt of your chin. There it is, that look. Focused and predatory.

The kind of look that made grown men falter mid sentence. The kind that made rooms go quiet when he enters. 

The kind that reminds everyone exactly who - and what - he is in this family.

"If," You say again, "If you win. Planning something are we?'

His mouth twitches.

“I’m always planning something.”

Usually your husband would tell you days before what he wanted his prize to be before a hunt. Usually it was something that ended with you bent over some balcony in a country you didn't know existed.

Other times it was fulfilling some fantasy Titus had where you were dressed in some ritualistic getup, a bride of the damned made solely for him.

Rarely was it something you didn't also enjoy. His prizes still left you with a belly full of fine wine or your pussy filled with him.

"Do tell though," He continues. "If you were to make it to dawn, what would you ask for? What would my love ask of me that I don’t already provide?"

The possibilities were endless. "If you make it to first light without me pinning you to the forest floor, what do you want?'

"Hm," You pretend to think, a small pout on your lips as he smiles at your expression. "I'm rather fond of the idea of tying you up, a little at my mercy."

"I'm always at your mercy."

"Not with your hands tied to the headboard you're not," You counter. "Tied up and aching, gagged even if you keep running your mouth. Maybe I leave you there until I'm ready? Maybe I use you until you can't take it anymore-"

"I'm struggling to see where I'm supposed to hate this idea," Titus interrupts you with a scoff of his own, eyebrows shooting up at the thought, his voice raspy. "You know I don't mind when you use me, Hell, you use my wallet and my cock all the time, I don’t complain.”

"Bullshit," You drag the word out. "You hate not being in control of everything."

He doesn't respond right away, and you know you've got him pinned. Titus enjoyed a lot of things, but after years of being a punching bag by his father and sister, he revelled in you being the one person he could order around. 

Not that you minded either. He never hurt you, never manipulated you like others tried.

"You said I could have anything," You remind him with a playful tilt of your head. "And I want you tied up and begging for me. Does the idea scare you?" "Terrifies me," He lies easily, eyes darkening with affection. "Being at your mercy seems to be the most dangerous position I could be in, I might never want to leave."

His sarcasm pissed you off. "Keep joking around like that Titus and I'll tie you up, leave you there for days, I won't even touch you."

"Bold little thing."

His watch beeps before you could cuss him out, the sharp sound immediately sending a thrill through you. 

Dusk was finally here, and you had until dawn to evade your husband.

"You get twenty minutes this time," He presses the side of his watch, a new timer being set. "I'm not cruel."

"Oh how generous of you," You roll your eyes as you go to move past him. "Bastard."

Titus catches your wrist before you can walk away, his thumb brushing over your pulse. Despite the confident look on your face, he could feel the consistent thumping of your heartbeat beneath him.

You were nervous.

You arch your brow, ready to tell him that he was cutting into your starting time. He leans down, lips brushing your ear as you swallow the words in your throat. "Be careful."

"You're the only thing out there that could cause me any problems." You murmur, but you nod against him nonetheless.

"Exactly," He inhales once, smelling the expensive shampoo you wore, his favourite. "I'd hate for this to be over too quickly."

"Cocky."

His grip on your wrist tightens, just slightly. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you that he could if he wanted too. He says your name in low warning. "Twenty minutes starts now.”

You pull back, meeting his gaze, hoping your expression looks amused. “Good luck old man."

For a second, just a second, something softer flickers in his eyes. Not the predator. Not the heir to everything. 

Just Titus.

Yours.

"I love you," He says, finally letting go of your wrist as he pecks your cheek. "Now fuck off."

"I love you too."

Without another word, you turn and run out of the room, your white dress fluttering around you as you turn the corner.

Titus watches until you're no longer in view, a smirk on his lips as he hears your laughter through the now empty halls of the manor.

—

The forest felt alive with the sounds of the night. 

Late last year, you had chosen the wine cellar in the main house. Earlier on, you had picked your bedroom. Your first year, you had picked the hotel.

Only once before had you picked the woods, and without the lights that usually lit the large labyrinth, you had nothing but shadow.

It was perfect.

You moved with a revered silence, your bare feet digging into the moss covered grounds, carefully avoiding dry leaves or sticks that could give away your location.

You weren't a hunter, you hadn’t trained for this, and you weren't tying to escape him out of fear, but out of devotion.

Titus loved the chased - loved the way you challenged him and didn't bend to his every whim like everyone else in his life.

The Danforth's owned everything. With a click of their fingers or a simple call, whatever they wanted was at their doorstep.

But for just one night, there was something Titus actually had to earn. Something he actually had to put in the skill and effort for.

The cold hits you the further you venture. You assume your husbands choice of clothing for you was intentional - it wasn't meant for this kind of weather or terrain.

You would be stupid to run around during the night in something so loose.

Yet, here you were. The silence was deafening in a place that was usually full of staff and security. Here, the air feels thicker, wilder, the anticipation of what was waiting for you making your hands feel clammy.

You don't run immediately, you walk - fast and deliberate, your mind running a mile a minute instead as you work through routes and trials in your memory.

You knew these woods well, but Titus was born here, raised on these grounds, even without the millions of cameras attached to every suitable surface, he would be able to find you.

Without a watch, it was impossible to know if your twenty minutes was up, but it was safe to assume your husband had begun his hunt.

You weaved between trees, doubling back once, twice, crossing a small stream without hesitation. The cold water bites at your skin, but you ignore it, climbing the opposite bank and continuing on. 

Just once, you want to win. Just once, you want to prove that you are more than capable of looking after yourself and being more than prey. 

Eventually, your feet begin to ache from the constant walking, and you're sure that it's been hours. You've put enough distance between you and the house, no longer able to see the empowering building from where you stand. 

With nothing but the moonlight to guide you, you tuck yourself into a hollow beneath a fallen cedar, tucking in the bottom of your dress to ensure it doesn't stick out and reveal your location. 

Your pulse has settled, the adrenaline you had running through your blood subsiding by the minute, replaced by the urge to rest.

Titus is good.

Too good to underestimate. 

But for once, he's not right behind you - nor finding you within hours. 

You didn't mean to fall asleep, but as the hours passed and the cold took over, your eyes had closed and the hollow had become your makeshift bed. You praised Satan for not being born a snorer, and the sound of the birds and insects lulled you into a sleep you didn't realise you needed.

The hunt lasted far longer than either of you expected.

Hours bled into the dark. 

In the distance, you hear the frustrated snap of a branch, and your eyes open immediately, your heart hammering at the sudden sound. You look around, seeing nothing from where you were hiding. 

Ignoring the twinge in your neck from your position, you hold your breath when you hear a low, guttural growl of a curse.

Titus was losing his temper. There was two hours until dawn, and he hadn't found a proper track in awhile. You had circled over your own footsteps more than once, a move he had taught you, and so he couldn't be mad. 

Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you adjust the way you're sitting carefully, hoping that nothing revealed your location to the hunter that was loose in the area.

He was used to being the master of his home, used to finding his prey within the hour. But tonight, you were becoming something he couldn't grasp. 

The thought made a thrill of pride bloom in his chest, he was both proud and pissed off that you had made it so far.

"No perfume tonight?" Titus' voice drifts through the trees, sounding much closer than you expected. "That's smart honey, that's usually the first thing that gives you up."

You don't move. You quieten your breathing even further.

"Although," He continues, and you can almost sense the way his jaw is no doubt clenched. "You're not as clever as you think, your tracks might be messy - sure - but they end up heading in the same direction eventually," His voice circles like a wolf. "I'm proud though, this is a good run time for you. Just… I'm getting a little bored."

He goes silent, his footsteps continuing as he stalks around. He knows you're here, he just doesn't know where.

The silence stretches until his boots come to a stop. 

"Aren't you cold out here sweetheart?" He starts again. "Gotta be, that dress doesn't leave much to the imagination. Beautiful on you though, shame it’ll be cut off soon."

The arrogance is back. Titus wants you to bite back, yell out some quip that'll reveal where you are, but you ignore the urge. 

He's right though, goosebumps were all over your skin, your nipples peaking through your dress as the chill of the night danced around you. 

Still, you didn't bite.

"I'll just buy you more, hundreds more, I don't mind," Titus speaks lowly again. You can picture him perfectly, the heavy stance he carries. "I'll buy you whatever the fuck you want."

The angrier he sounded, the hornier he was. He was getting beyond frustrated. Never had he lost a hunt, and although he didn't mind the idea of his little wife tying him up for once, the prize he wanted was far too great to miss.

It was apart of Mr Le Bail’s deal. A prize had to be claimed, no if's or buts, even if your hunt didn't count as a part of his usual style of business - but if there was something Mr Le Bail enjoyed, it was a game signed in blood and pleasure.

You couldn't win. Maybe next year would be your year.

With no rebuttal, Titus goes quiet, his footsteps getting quieter until you could no longer hear his boots digging in the moss.

You waited. Five. Ten.

You waited until you were sure the distance between you both was enough. This position hurt. You didn't mean to be cooped up in such a confined space for so long.

Emerging from the hollow, you wince as you stand to your full height, stretching your shoulders and arms until you release a small sigh in relief.

Your dress was filthy, little cuts on your arms and legs from the trees you had run through, but still you smiled.

Satan, you wish you brought a watch with you. It was impossible to know just how much time was left, but you knew that you'd made it far - judging by Titus' frustration.

You hitch up the straps of your dress before dusting off the dirt from your behind. 

Maybe the north side would be a good spot. 

You're deep in thought, planning your next move carefully.

Then - 

A voice. 

"You are just so beautiful."

You freeze. Your breath catches, not completely from fear, but from the sheer shock.

Slowly, deliberately, you turn your head, and leaning casually against a tree like he’s been there all along, watching you, is your husband.

He's smiling, beaming from ear to ear.

"You-"

"Hello darling." His voice is soft, almost fond, a stark difference to the mischievous glint that no doubt rests in his eyes.

You narrow your own eyes. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

“So you knew I was hiding in there the whole time." 

“Oh yeah," He nods, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Wanted to see if you'd come out yourself or make me pull you out."

“Typical,” You straighten, masking the jolt of adrenaline with a cool expression. “You still haven't caught me Titus."

You bolt before he can reply. 

Your bare feet hit the earth with frantic speed as you run. You hear your name from his lips with an angered yell. He was running out of time.

You're grinning regardless. The more pissed off he was, the more you laughed as you ran. His heavy steps can be heard behind you, moving with a terrifying efficiency. 

He wasn't playing anymore, he had to catch you before the sun came up. 

Titus cursed at himself for not bringing the tranq gun. 

He yells your name again,and you praise the heavy hunting gear for weighing him down. Your back is pressed against a tree as you hide again, your muscles screaming, your feet aching.

But still, the adrenaline fuelled your fire, the hunt doing nothing but make your love for your husband grow further and further.

The rhythmic, heavy crunch of his boots came closer as you pressed yourself into the tree. 

You could see the stream nearby, and you know that you'd have a home stretch if you made it over.

"I know you're near baby," Titus tried his best to mask the desire in his voice. His tone was teasing, rich and worst of all, close.

“We both know you didn't make it over the water, just come on out," You hear him take another step, no doubt checking behind another tree, his eyes scanning the shadows with an intensity that made your pulse jump. "If you come out now, I might even let you cum when I fuck your brains out."

Your mouth opened in shock at his words. He was baiting you again. Titus always made sure you finished when you both had sex - he was cruel, but never to you.

That's how you knew he was losing his cool.

When you hear his steps come closer, you run again.

A blur of movement follows you. You spin, just in time to see his arms come up as he lunges, and you twist sharply to throw him off balance.

Your shoulder hits his chest instead, and for a moment, it works. He stumbles, a grunt on his lips, and you go to run again when a large hand snaps around your wrist, pulling you back towards him roughly. 

You drive your knee up, he blocks it. You throw a hit, he counters. It’s messy, it's chaotic, it's you. It’s a dance he craves.

You twist, trying to break free, your other hand raising to push against his chest. Before you can push him away, Titus manages to grab your waist, and with quick kick at your legs, has you both falling to the ground beneath you.

The sudden loss of your footing has you gasping, and he rolls, ensuring you're stuck beneath his weight as he pins you beneath him. 

It was a familiar, grounding pressure, his breathing heavy but controlled. 

Still, you attempt to buck him off of you, but Titus sits up just enough to roll you over onto your belly roughly, one hand pressing the back of your head into the grass below, his front pressed into your back. 

His thighs straddle you completely, and he waits for you to stop your movements, lets you catch your breath as you realise you're well and truly caught.

"Nearly had it, didn't you sweetheart?" He rasps, his head leaning down to see your expression. His hazel eyes burned with a mixture of triumph and pure, unadulterated lust. "You did good, just not good enough."

"Get the fuck off me." You hiss, attempting once more to move under him. Your ass brushes against his clothed cock, Titus having been hard the very moment he had first found you. He grunts again. 

"Shut up," He retorts, reaching down to push some hair out of your eyes. "No point having an attitude now," He pushes against you once more, eyes closing a little as his jeans feel tighter against him.

The hand on your head grabs at your wrists before you can protest, pinning them above your head. You moved against him at every chance. "Stop - stop fucking moving."

You oblige, turning your head to look at him clearer. "So," You breath, chest heaving. "Sun's not up, but you win fucker. What do…" You breath again. "What do you want?"

The witty, sarcastic mask he usually wore slid away entirely. He looked down at you with a seriousness that made the world around you fall silent.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly vow that shook you to your core. "You almost had it." He says again. 

"Almost doesn't count."

"No," He agrees. "It doesn't."

You feel his knife gliding gently up your thigh before you realise, and your breath is stuck in your throat once more.

You didn't even notice Titus grab it from it's sheath, and you feel yourself stiffen as the tip of the steel drags up and under your dress.

Never once has Titus cut you, he was messy when he wanted to be, but he was precise more often than not.

"That's a good girl," He whispers, feeling you completely stop your fidgeting. "Not so brave now, are we?"

The air between you was thick with the scent of the woods and the sharp, metallic tang of adrenaline. Titus didn't move to let you roll over, instead, he settled his weight more firmly against you, his heavy hunting leathers pressing your thin silk dress into the earth.

The damp chill of the ground seeped through the fabric, but you barely felt it over the radiating heat of his body.

He looked down at you, his chest heaving in a ragged rhythm that mirrored your own. The shadow of his frustration was still there, flickering in the depths of his lustful eyes, but it was being rapidly overtaken by a terrifying, singular focus.

"Do you have any idea," He rasped, his voice dropping into a low, vibratory growl that seemed to rattle in your own chest. "What it does to me when I can't find you? When you just disappear?"

You so badly wish you could reach up and brush away the dark locks of hair that fell onto his damp forehead. Even in your state, you couldn't resist the spark of his fire. "Thought you liked the challenge."

He leaned down again, his face inches from yours, his gaze devouring every inch of your expression. "I love that smart mouth more," He let out a sharp, self deprecating huff of a laugh, his nose grazing your cheek as his knife slides higher.

"And I love you," He paused, his eyes softening into a look of such raw, unshielded devotion it made your throat ache before his jaw tightens. "But right now, I'm going to fuck you like I don’t."

"High praise," You huff out, ignoring the heat in your belly. "Makes me want to run again, see if you can catch me twice."

"Don't fucking dare," He warned, though there was no heat in it, only a possessive desperation. "You’ve had your fun."

You don't answer, your heart feeling like it was going to break from beneath your ribs at just how fast it was beating. This was the part that you enjoyed the most, not that you would ever tell him.

The part where the doting husband was gone, and just the man who wanted to collect his prize was left.

Speaking of, Titus was still yet to tell you what he wanted from you, but you were too turned on and too anxious for his next move to speak.

His knife stops at the dress band around your waist, and with a turn of his wrist, he cuts through the fabric like it was nothing.

The dress falls loose to the ground below, and Titus cuts through your bra and panties next, not wasting a single second more to get you bare before him.

"Titus-"

He lifts himself up off of you again, giving you just enough room to hoist you up by your hips as he lets your wrists go. Your clothing falls to the floor, and a protest leaves your lips as you're left naked and shivering.

Your hands press into the ground, the thickness of the grass running through your fingers as you attempt to gather your bearings. 

His jeans bite into your skin, his hands are rough on your body as he pulls you up further onto your knees. You struggle back, his knife thrown somewhere to the ground as you feel and hear him undoing his belt from behind you. 

Titus didn't bother taking his pants off, pushing them and his underwear down just far enough to get his cock out. It slaps against his lower belly instantly, and he hisses at the feeling, pushing his pants down further until they banded around his thighs. 

He strokes himself once. Twice. He curses at the feeling.

“You love this,” He kicks your own legs apart with his knees, grinning as he sees the glistening mess between your legs waiting for him. "You fought back a lot for someone whose practically dripping."

"Shut up." 

He pushes your legs apart even further, your thighs burning now as you feel him right behind you. There's no check if you're ready, just a slap to your pussy with the tip of his cock before he buries himself inside of you in one quick thrust.

The air leaves your lungs, hands giving out as he fucks you into the ground. Your mouth opens in an attempt to say his name, but the only noise that comes out is a choked moan.

“You remember, fuck - what I told you,” He says in between his rough thrusts. “About what happens when I take over the family?"

You couldn't speak, focused on nothing but the grass your face is pressed into and the thick head of your husbands cock hitting that spot inside you with every push of his hips. 

"Answer me." Titus orders, reaching down to grab at your hair and pull you up roughly. Even through the aggressiveness of it all, you can't help but smile through perfect mix of pleasure and pain. 

"You said, you - mppf," You can't help the squeal that leaves your lips as Titus grips tighter. "Shit, you said you would g-give me the world."

"I did," He nods behind you. "And I will."

His gaze drops briefly from your face to your pussy, watching the way his cock disappears inside and the way you grip him like you didn't want to let him go. 

"But first," He says, his voice low and breaking, his own control wavering as he becomes lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him. "I"m going to give you something - something that's mine," He groans. "Fuck, you feel so good."

You wiggle your hips against him, trying to meet him halfway as he picks up the pace. His hands connect with your hips, gripping too tightly, bringing them down to meet his thrusts whether you were able or not.

His words barely register, too overcome by pleasure and the building orgasm in your lower belly.

Titus' smile doesn't waver, even as he grunts your name like a prayer for Satan. "My prize," He says with a harsh thrust, his hips stilling for a moment so you can pay attention. You can't even whine at the sudden stop, eager to hear what your love wants. "Is an heir."

Your breath catches, the words settling between you, heavy and deliberate. 

Not a demand. Not a question.

Your husband thinks for just a small moment that you'll oppose, tell him to get off of you and to fuck off, but his eyes close with a moan when he feels your cunt clench around him. 

He wouldn't force you, even if the deal with Mr Le Bail meant you'd have to relent eventually.

But the idea of Titus filling you over and over, being the one to carry the future of the Danforth line did nothing but make you gush.

You nod over and over, hands squeezing at the grass again for leverage as you try to push against him once more. 

You had both talked about children in the past, seeing as it was something that you inevitably would have to do once joining his family.

But when you were intimate, he wore protection.

Or was quick enough to pull out and finish down your throat.

Titus’ role in the world was far too important to be clumsy, especially when a baby in the family would open up a new member for the cult. You hadn’t been ready for that then, he didn’t think you were ready for that.

You were ready now. He knows it now.

Never had you exactly planned when it would be done, seeing as his father was still alive and controlling everything.

Ursula didn’t want children, refused to marry even out of fear that a man would try and take control over what the family had worked so hard for.

Titus on the other hand, loved nothing more than the idea of seeing you big and heavy with his child.

Already he was possessive of you, worried constantly that some other wealthy bloodline would try find some clause in the book of Mr Le Bail that meant they could take you from him.

But if you were properly claimed? No one would dare.

You were made to be his. You were meant to be his.

"I accept," You cry out, nodding more as you all but beg for Titus to move. "Fuck! I accept, move Titus, please."

He obliges with a grin, his hips pressing against yours again, his balls slapping against your clit with each move.

Beads of sweat coats his forehead as he speaks, telling you just how good you feel, how beautiful you're going to look when you're pumped full of him.

Your ass bounces against him with every move, a sight Titus never gets tired of seeing. His hand smacks at the skin, spanking your flesh until his handprint shows, even through the leather he wore.

It only makes you moan louder.

Titus' head lulls back as he bites his lip, and he adjusts the way he ruts deeper into you. Your name escapes his lips anyway, your pussy fluttering around him as he grips your hips even tighter.

Just the image of you swollen with his child, his heir, is enough to nearly make him cum - and with the way your moans turned into breathless sounds, he knew you weren't too far away. 

It’s all too much. His rough thrusts, his desperate words, the exposure to everything. You’re unravelling, skin hot as your thighs quiver. “Titus, please. I’m close, I’m-”

Your legs give out, your stomach and breasts pressed to the ground as his weight is completely on you once again. He feels almost deeper at this angle, and he ruts into you even messier than before.

His head dips down to your ear, lips biting at the skin as he moans. "C’mon sweetheart," He whispers. "Be good for me, want to feel it."

Your release comes within seconds of feeling Titus' voice in your ear. Hot and heavy, your vision goes as you tremble beneath him. "Fuck - fuck, Titus." 

He just nods, his eyes narrowed as his eyebrows furrow. "I know baby," His words sounded muffled against your cheek as he fucks into you, riding your orgasm out as his balls tighten. "Fuck."

His cock twitches relentlessly, his hips pressed flush against your ass as he cums.

His hips stutter, his hands leaving your hips to rest beside your head, his fingers seeks yours as they entwine, Titus thrusting up into your leaking cunt until he's left spent and twitching.

He buries himself to the hilt, a cry on your lips at the feeling.

He stays there, gathering his breath until his cock softens, pressing gentle kisses to wherever he could reach from his position. "You okay?"

Your thighs hurt, your hips felt tight, your pussy - still full of him, felt sensitive. Still, through it all, you grinned, your cheek still pressed into the grass while the other received kisses. "Mm."

"That's not an answer," Titus rubbed his nose against your skin, gloved fingers squeezing yours tighter. "Words Mrs Danforth, use them."

"M'fine," You manage to murmur, feeling incredibly full. The prospect of carrying the future leader of the world making your belly flutter again. "Just, feels too good, and you talk too much.”

There you are.

"Still feel like doing another runner?" He quips, looking up to see that the sun was just starting to rise. Dawn was here, and you had no clothes.

"Fuck off and carry me home before someone sees us."

Titus chuckles, pressing another kiss to your temple before he slowly pulls out, a gasp leaving your mouth. If anyone else spoke to him like that, they'd never be seen again - but with you, he revelled in it.

He fixes his pants, tucking himself back in before he lazily fixes his zipper. He doesn't bother with his belt, knowing it'll just be off again when he helps you bathe.

He'll clean you up, have you dressed in your designer pyjamas and in bed before any staff in the manor wakes up - he always does.

Someone will come out and find his knife, throw out the torn clothes and make no mention of it to anybody.

For now, he watches as you roll onto your back, your hair a mess, small cuts on your face, stomach and breasts from where you had been pressed into the ground.

He didn’t dare look further down, he knows that if he sees the way you leak, leak with what he gave you, that he’d take you again then and there.

You looked beautiful like this, fucked out, eyes tired, body shivering and quivering ever so slightly.

Yet, you still beamed up at him, hands reaching up for his support, eyes full of that love and warmth you gave no one but him.

His eyes dart to the wedding ring on your finger, a blooming sense of pride at being the man to put it on you, and now a difference sense of pride fills him, knowing you now could carry something else that belonged to him.

It was early, far too early to be excited - he knew that, but a deal was a deal with Mr Le Bail, and he knew it wouldn't be too long until he heard the news.

He helps you to your feet, catching you before your legs give out. You're lifted bridal style, pressed flushed to his chest as your feet dangle. You're completely exposed, a naked prize whilst he walks completely dressed. 

-

"It smells like shit."

Jimmy Fox laughs loudly from where he's crouching, his wig slipping sideways as he pokes his knife towards the slow-low half buried in the mud. “That's proper feral that."

The infected answers with a wet, pathetic groan, fingers clawing at the dirt as it's belly drags through the soil beneath. It tries to surge forward and fails, face planting with an even wetter noise.

Your nose turns up at the sight, turning your attention back to the knife in your hand. You sit on a log slick with moss, your pink tracksuit streaked with stains of blood, both infected and non infected.

You drag the edge of your blade across a rock, now hearing Jimmy Jimmy chuckle as he moves, standing behind the slow infected with his bat in his hand.

The two Jimmy's continue teasing the demon, dancing just out of reach, and you shake your head. The others all stand around, sprawled out in your makeshift rest spot as you wait for Sir Jimmy to finish talking with Old Nick in private.

Somewhere far off, something screams, but it's distant enough to ignore. The slow-low reaches again, Fox taking a singular step back as it once again fails at a successful meal.

Jimmy Shite snorts from where he’s perched on his own rock, dark blue tracksuit zipped to his chin. “That thing’s got less fight than you mate."

“Oh fuck off,” Fox lifts his head, his knife pointed at the man, but his smile doesn't waver. “Don't even start.”

You're laughing as you hear the man in blue mutter a nah, the two friends continuing to bicker as if an infected wasn't just a breath away.

“Put that thing out of it's misery already,” Jimmy Ink finally snaps, storming over in her red tracksuit, her hands on her hips. “Ye fuckin' playin' with it now aren't you?"

Fox straightens, mock offended. “What's this thing gonna do? It can barely even lift it's head Inky."

“Neither could you before Sir Jimmy found you,” You finally speak up, a grin across your face as everyone follows suit. "Just kill it already."

That does it. The group all laugh, even Jimmy Fox despite the not so subtle dig at his abilities. You flip your knife, testing the edge with your thumb. It was sharper than before, but there could always be better.

The chuckles still linger, but immediately seize when you hear footsteps from behind. The air shifts, and Jimmy stops beside you, his hands in his pockets.

The conversation dulls, not quite silent but softer, like the woods themselves are listening as they wait for Jimmy's words.

He’s standing close enough that you can hear the faint jingle of his necklaces when he moves.

He looks down at you, his eyebrow raised as he sees you're still grinning. Jimmy Fox finally puts the infected out of it's misery in the background, but you're focused on the man in front of you.

Jimmy doesn't speak, and you're about to ask him if there was something wrong when his hand moves from out of his pocket. Your own hand stills from your sharpening, awaiting his move.

His fingers brush the edge of your badly cut wig, tugging it forward so it sits straighter above your brow. Gentle, careful, a gesture you weren't expecting.

"There," He says quietly, and you just nod at him, your words feeling lost. "Much better."

Your head shakes again as you quickly gather yourself, stuttering over your words before you manage a quick thank you.

Heat crawls up your neck, traitorous and sudden, and you quickly peer down, not wanting to embarrass yourself further. One corner of his mouth twitches, and if anyone notices, they're smart enough not to comment.

You watch as his purple pants leave your peripheral, keeping your head down to avoid your obvious reaction. The wigs were irritating, constantly moving, itching at your scalp. But they were a mere price to pay for the grace of the Chosen One.

Not that Jimmy minded when you took it off.

Out of all of the fingers, you were the one to get your hands dirtier than the rest. You assumed he was okay with it, excused it because he realised it got in the way when dealing with large groups.

The wig spent more time tucked into your waistband than it did on your head, but if Jimmy didn't care, then you wouldn't stop.

You watch as he reprimands Fox and Jimmy Jimmy for letting the slow-low crawl so closely to your little rest stop, and you just sigh. He talks with his hands, the rings shining when the sunlight hits them at the right angle. His blond hair brushes over his shoulders as he stares the other men down, clean and wavy.

He carries himself like a God, and to everyone in your group, he was.

Your eyes watch every little quirk, from the way he jokes about their poor form - to the way he looks back to you, as if making sure you were paying attention.

You always were.

"You good?" Jimmy Shite slides in to sit beside you, shoulder bumping yours.

"I'm good," You say a little too quickly, but you nudge him back gently. "Are you good?"

His eyebrow raises, but he nods all the same. "Ye just look weird,"

Your face goes blank at this, and Shite immediately laughs, his hands up in defence. "Naw like that, like ye staring off into space 'n all that."

"Oh," You exhale from your nose at his quick save. "Yeah, just... wondering where we're heading off too next I guess."

He nods, clearly thinking the same thing. It had been months since you had found any new souls needing saving, and it was getting old rather fast.

You look back to Jimmy, watching again as he speaks with Jimmy Ink, no doubt figuring out the groups next move.

You didn't know what it was with Jimmy exactly. It was clear he treated you differently than the other Fingers. He wasn't as sarcastic with you, often seeking your opinion quickly when times seemed tough.

He valued your skillset, that much was obvious. You just assumed that's all it was. Old Nick needed a strong hand, and that's all you were.

It didn't make you love him any less. If being valuable to Satan's own son was all you were, than you were happy to accept.

But you love him in a quiet way. The dangerous way.

The way you could never say out loud or admit to others.

Because Sir Jimmy is untouchable.

The son of the Morning Star. You couldn't touch the sun without being burned, so you accepted that basking in his heat was all you would be gifted.

It was love right?

Maybe it was infatuation, something sharp and stupid that resided in your chest whenever you heard him laugh. Something warm and dangerous that flares whenever he speaks to you directly and asks for your opinion.

Whatever it was, you wanted it badly. Your time on Earth could be over in the blink of an eye, and so you prayed silently to the dark lord below that he would grant you a companion like your friends.

Speaking of, Jimmy Jones and Jimmy Snake were sitting beside each other on another log, the two pressed into one another as they shared an apple. They would orbit around each other like nothing else exists, always within arms reach of one another.

The shared kisses, the constant cuddling, the tender eyes and sneaky run offs to somewhere private when they think everyones asleep.

It gnaws at you in the same way you were happy for them. Jealousy was an ugly thing, a feeling you never expected to experience after so long of just worrying about survival. You used to worry about your next meal, but now you just felt hungry for something else.

Forbidden fruit.

Jimmy Shite nudges your shoulder again, offering his hand to help you up from where you were seated. You take it, standing with a huff as you slide your knife back into its sheath at your waist.

"Water?" He’s asking, already reaching for the canister he left strapped to his bag.

"Yeah," You nod, having run out of your own just an hour prior. There wasn't a worry, you knew a stream or a group would be found sooner or later. "Fox sculled everythin' I had left."

He shakes his head at his best friends actions, handing you his bottle as he calls the other Jimmy a mean word, the two of you laughing as you see Fox flip you both the bird.

Sir Jimmy clears his throat from where he stands, watching the two of you talk. "Pack up, we move out in ten," His voice carries before he points to you. "I want ye up front."

You nod at the order, and Jimmy gives you one final glance before he turns around, issuing more distant orders for the others.

With a quick drink from the blue Jimmy’s water, you hand it back to him with another thank you, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Want me up front with ye?" Jimmy Shite questions, and seeing as he was the only Jimmy that hadn't received a direct order, you nod again.

Company was always better when leading. "Yeah, that'd uh, that would be nice actually."

Once everyone was up and ready, you fell into step beside the other Jimmy as the cult gathers itself behind.

-

Days had passed, and once again you had been sent ahead of the group to scout and clear the path. You got a bit ahead of yourself, following a non infected man who you assumed was out hunting.

Much like yourself in a way.

You find them tucked in the woods, a proper home hidden amid the trees. Tall fences, a large gate with a cottage to match, a shed beside it.

Five bodies walk around, alive and organised and in need of charity.

You crouch in the tree line and watch them all for a long minute, counting rotations, exits, checking for any more people that may reside in the compound. Your stomach warms in delight.

"Finally." You whisper to yourself, slipping away before any infected could sneak up on you. It had been months since the last batch of souls had been freed, and you were more than eager to please Old Nick again.

The last offering however, you had missed - being made to run into the dark and deal with a survivor who had made a last bolt for freedom.

It was fine at first, a freed soul was a freed soul after all.

By the time you had dragged the body back however, the Choosing Ceremony was over, charity was well and truly finished, and the chosen fighter had already washed the blood from their hands.

You’d felt hollow for weeks, like you were left behind in a way. It should've been a good time, you should've been pleased, but Jimmy never started charity without you present.

Did you do something wrong?

There was no point in worrying about it - Jimmy had applauded your work with the runaway regardless, taking in the body you had dragged in behind you and your blood covered appearance as a great success.

Today was another day however.

Bursting back into the camp, sweaty and grinning, Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal pauses mid conversation, stopping with a curious glance as he sees your face.

You don’t wait for permission, speaking as you attempt to catch your breath. "I found people, five of 'em. Walls are pretty big but - I think it'll be manageable."

For half a heartbeat, the camp is quiet. Jimmy throws his head back in what looked like a silent prayer before he grins. "Five?" He repeats, delighted. "Oh, Old Nick's feeling generous today, c’mon peeps!”

His joy was infectious, and everyone erupts around him, all getting their belongings ready.

Jimmy steps close, lowering his voice just for you. “You’ve done beautifully,” He places his hand on your shoulder, patting it softly as he nods. “Truly.”

Your chest tightens at the praise. You beam, fierce and proud.

The assault is quick and quiet. The compound’s walls slow you for seconds at most. Jimmy Jones grabs the first person to emerge from the gate. Jimmy Snake gets the second. Screaming breaks out as your friends flood in, bright tracksuits against mute colours.

One of them, a big burly man, charges at you instead of running. His fist meets your face before you get the chance to dodge him, and you snarl.

Pain blooms white hot. Your head snapping sideways. You taste blood and laugh through it, feral and thrilled.

"Ye cunt."

You drop him with your knee in his ribs and your knife resting against his throat, pushing him to the ground before you sit on his chest while he wheezes. Your hands shake as you bind his wrists above his head, with excitement however, not fear.

Jimmy Shite crouches beside you, helping cinch the rope. “Ye good?”

You spit blood into the dirt beside the man’s head. “Aw y'know, just peachy."

The group, all five now bound shaking and crying, are marched back towards the shed, ropes biting into their wrists. You’re buzzing, jaw throbbing, heart hammering in time with the adrenaline already starting up ahead.

Your hand nurses your jaw as you follow after your friends, but Sir Jimmy calls your name and you turn, grin still sharp, but it quickly falters.

"Not ye my sweet Jimmy, not today," Jimmy stops you in your tracks. "Gonna need ye to scout ahead for a few hours, make sure no runners spoil today’s fun."

He's nodding towards the front gate as your mouth opens and closes in disbelief. Again? The walls were high and strong, infected wouldn't be an issue by any means.

"But I found the place?" You almost whine, a little hesitant at talking back to the man. The words tumble out before you can stop them. "Why've I got to miss charity? Again?"

Jimmy's eye raises, one hand in his pocket as the corner of his lips quirk. "Because I said so, off ye go now."

Your stomach drops.

You want to argue back, want to say that it was bullshit, but you just nod instead, looking down at the worn trainers on your feet for a moment before getting your knife from your belt.

“Have I... done something to upset Old Nick? S'that why I’m getting sent off again?”

Jimmy kicks himself off the wall, walking towards you and tutting at you with each step. He stops just inches away, one hand lifting to rest below your chin.

He raises it gently, titling your head to the side to check the bruise that no doubt now resided there. His expression softens in an almost pitying way.

“Oh sweetheart, no no no. You’ve got him all wrong, he’s not upset at all,” He assures you, smiling as you hears you sigh in instant relief. “He just needs you out there keeping us all safe yes? Is that naw a good enough reason?”

Sweetheart.

Of course it was a good enough reason. “He trusts me with that?” You ask, voice almost small, hopeful and in awe, as you peer at him.

His touch is reverent, careful. "You're the most capable we've got."

Your chest fills with warmth. Pride. Relief. Devotion.

“Yeah?” You whisper.

He smiles. “Yeah.”

His eyes were full of something you couldn't decipher, but it didn't matter.

Old Nick himself deemed you worthy.

Your heart hammers a frantic rhythm against your ribs. 

Jimmy nods again, his thumb rubbing over the tender skin as you wince. He coos softly, and you feel that familiar feeling in your chest again. “We all trust ye - so go on, maybe you’ll even be back in time for the choosing,”

He knows you won’t. You know you won't. Charity will be done and you’ll be back to see whether or not there’s a new finger. You still don’t argue, just nodding again at his orders.

Jimmy’s hand slides from down your chin, over your neck until it rests on your shoulder. He pats it once, before turning you to face the exit. “Off ye go now pet.”

Pet.

That was new too, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

The sting of disappointment was instantly replaced by a warm, glowing pride. The only one. Old Nick himself had singled you out for protection.

You excuse yourself, ignoring the sting at being excluded once more, choosing to focus on the acknowledgment that Old Nick trusted you the most to do the hard yards.

Jimmy Shite calls your name as you pass the flat, and you wave goodbye, watching as he finishes stringing up the same man who had punched you in the face. He waves back, and it would’ve been a nice moment if it weren’t for the large man wriggling by his wrists beside him.

As you disappeared into the mist of the surrounding forest, you felt ten feet tall, unaware of the way Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal stood perfectly still, watching you go until you were nothing but a flicker of pink amongst the grey.

He was more than aware however of the way one of his own disciples watched you leave as well. His jaw was clenched, and Jimmy tilts his head, waiting for the pinkness of your suit to completely disappear before he followed the others into the shed.

-

The compound gate groans when you swing it shut, metal scraping against metal, and you lock it behind you.

The sun was dipping below the tree line, bleeding into a deep purple as the night took over. You were exhausted, knuckles stained with the dark and tacky blood of the runners you'd struck down in among the trees. 

As you walked towards the house, your mind spiraled back to the hours in the woods. Every time you swung your knife, you imagined him watching.

You'd berate yourself for it, the shame hot in your chest. He was the chosen son, you had to remind yourself that such a man was never going to be yours.

He is the vessel, you are just the weapon.

He is the body, you were just a finger.

But the way he had touched your face earlier? It was a feeling no amount of dead runners or slow-lows could help mask.

The compound was eerily quiet as you walked, the shed doors now closed.

The silence told you everything - charity was over. The souls were freed. You would've thought you had been left behind if it weren't for the colourful trainers and jelly shoes that lay outside the front door.

Inside the main house, the smell of roasted meat hits you, the rich scent immediately making your stomach growl. 

Inside, you hear everyone before seeing them, following the boisterous sounds of your friends until you entered a dining room. Everyone, or nearly everyone sat around a large wooden table, plates in front of them as they ate like it was an earned meal. 

It would've looked like a nightmare to anyone else. Half of the table was drenched in blood, their wigs matted with red, the other half in clothes that didn't belong to them and skin clean despite today's ordeal.

Candles are lit, the room a smell of bland wax and cooked meat. Ink was noticeably missing, but you could hear shuffling from upstairs.

Jimmy looks up from the head of the table, purple tracksuit half zipped, tiara set beside his plate. His face lights up instantly, his hand raised as he spots you. "There ye are," He beams. "Thought I'd have tae send out a search party."

"Never," You shake your head, dropping your pack somewhere behind you. "Well? How did it go?"

Jimmima pulls out a chair beside her with her foot, patting it a few times before she returns to her dinner.

You take it with a huff, seated between the girl who usually wore baby blue and Jimmy Shite. She wore a baggy shirt and some shorts instead, clearly having rummaged through the home's drawers in your absence.

"Old mate chose Jimmy Jimmy," Fox nods sits opposite, nodding towards the Jimmy in green. "Lasted barely a minute too, ye should've seen it."

Jimmy Jimmy mock bows, the others all laughing at his actions. He was clean despite hearing he was today's chosen, and you figured he'd been allowed to bathe first. 

Jimmima, Jones and Snake also appeared clean and dressed in 'borrowed' pajamas, the rest still in their dirty tracksuits.

"You should've been there," Jimmima chirps from beside you. "I missed you a lot, I even thought I’d be picked today."

You give her a half smile and a half arsed shrug. Your heart sank as she continued talking about how the charity had gone. The familiar pang of exclusion twisted in your gut. 

It shouldn't matter. You did what Old Nick asked of you, you protected everyone.

A plate of something hot is pushed towards you, the ringed hand pushing it as far as it could before Jimmy pulled back.

"Deer," He smiles as if he could hear your inner conflict. "Our friends were kind enough to have hunted it this morning for us, isn't that some hospitality?"

Your stomach rumbles almost instantly, and you dig in without a second thought, muttering in mock agreement about the graciousness of the home owners.

Your eyes close at the cooked meat and mixed vegetables, having been weeks since you'd eaten a proper cooked meal. You pull your wig off, throwing it behind you to the floor by your bag. 

"S'good yeah?" Jimmy Shite mutters from beside you. He's still covered in grime and blood. "Don't worry 'bout today either, they didn't put up much of a fight."

"Really?” You ask in between chews. "How bad was it?"

He shrugs, leaning his chin on his hands. "Wasn't bad, just… bit borin'," He nudges your elbow with his. "But I made sure I took my time with the big cunt."

The one who punched you in the face. 

Your mouth quirks. "Yeah?"

He grins, his hand wiping over his mouth as he nods. "Yeah."

The knot in your chest loosens just a touch.

Jimmy's eyes flicker from between you to Shite, his jaw tightening. "How did we go with scouting?" He asks with a call of your name, his voice cutting through the warmth. "Judging by that shite on your hands, ye got busy?" 

"Handful of runners, small little pack," You answer truthfully, noticing the weird way he eyed you and the man beside you. "Couple slow-lows when things got boring."

Jimmy claps quietly, a hand then raised towards you again. "Howzat."

Everyone immediately copies him, raising their glasses of water, mouths full of food as they chant.

A genuine smile breaks through the gloom at the sight, and you raise your own glass that Jimmima had poured without you noticing.

Jimmy Ink nearly jumps downstairs, her skin slick with droplets of water as she greets you warmly. She takes a seat beside Jones, her frame also sporting a borrowed shirt and some underwear. "Hot waters nearly gone, probably enough for one more."

"Fuckin' dibs," Jimmy Fox shouts, already half rising from his chair. "Finally."

"Sit down Fox," Jimmy's voice was like a whip before he points to you with a ringed finger. "She's going next."

Fox sits again despite the look on his face, the others all laughing at him. 

"Naw it's fine," You shake your head, pointing to your plate with your fork. "I'm still eatin' anyway, you can take it."

Fox goes to stand again when Jimmy shoots him a look, the younger man holding his hands up in defence as he slides back into his seat.

You could see that Fox wanted to argue, that he'd been elbow deep in charity, but one look from Jimmy was enough to shut him up.

"Then everyone else can wait," Jimmy shrugs, reaching for his glass again as he smiles towards you. It doesn’t reach his eyes. "You've earned it, it's all yours hen."

"Left a shirt on the counter," Ink waits for Jimmy to be finished as you continue eating. "Some undies too, dunno' if they'll fit your arse but."

The tension was lifted already, everyone breaking into chuckles as you roll your eyes playfully. Ink gives you a knowing nod, small enough just for you to notice, and you return the gesture.

You excuse yourself a couple of minutes after, Jones taking your plate from behind you and throwing it carelessly into the sink. It shatters on impact, more laughs echoing at their actions. 

You thank everyone for dinner and hurry upstairs, finding the bathroom quickly and running yourself a bath with what remained of the hot water.

It wasn't anything grand by any means, but it was enough to feel clean for what felt like forever. Your wig was left downstairs still, and you scrubbed at your head and skin, watching as the blood and dirt disappeared below.

When you finally resembled a human again, you were wearing a stolen oversized shirt with some long forgotten band on the front.

The lace trimmed underwear Ink had found you felt unusual, but soft nonetheless against your skin.

In the hallway, the house was a puzzle of Jimmy's calling dibs on their sleeping arrangements. Jimmy Fox greets you with a gentle shoulder bump, grumbling something about he and Jimmy Jimmy claiming the couches downstairs before he enters the bathroom behind you.

You watch as Jimmy climbs the stairs, pausing at the top, his hand gripping the railing as his eyes travel slowly from your bare legs to your now clean face.

The look was heavy, hungry and unholy, as if the man had forgotten what had been hiding underneath the muck from the world outside.

"Good?" He asks, and you nearly asked what he meant until you realised he was talking about the bath.

Said bath starts again from behind the closed door, Fox having impeccable timing. "Yeah," You swallow, eyeing him almost in the same way he did you. "Was really good actually, thank you for uh - for letting me go first." 

“Nae bother,” He bows his head softly. "Good night sweetheart." 

There it was again.

Jimmy adds a sleep well with your name, his gaze still lingering as he heads for what you assume was the master bedroom. You mutter the same, and he closes the door behind him.

Sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

It didn’t mean anything. He was just in a good mood because of today.

Right?

It didn’t help that heat burning in your belly by any means.

Needing sleep, you check each door apart from Jimmy's, finding the bedrooms and couches below all already claimed.

You're coming to terms with another floor and sleeping bag sleep when you find Jimmy Shite resting against the bathroom door, no doubt waiting for Jimmy Fox to finish up.

"There’s a mattress in the attic," He scratches at the back of his neck, his own wig missing. He was still dirty, almost evidently itching to be clean. "Nothing big but, naw gonna sleep downstairs and listen to that fuckin' shite,"

Jimmy Jimmy. His snoring kept almost everyone awake, and you snorted in agreement. "So I don't care 'bout sharing if ye don't."

Thank god. You weren't sure if your bones could handle a sleep on the hardwood after today’s endeavors. 

"Music to my ears," You fake moan, head lolled back at the idea of a mattress. "I’ll catch ye soon then.”

You’d all shared floors and sleeping bags a number of times. Shite chuckles, the door beside him opening to a shirtless and clean Fox.

The Welshman looks taken aback by the two of you standing outside, and he covers his front with his hands. "Pervs."

He was wearing clean boxers, but you all laugh the same. Shite enters after him, pointing to the direction of the attic before closing the door. 

The attic was cramped with what looked like decades of antiques and the old life, the room smelling of decaying wood and dust. You crawled onto the mattress, finding the room too hot to be using the blanket.

When Shite finally joined you, smelling of the same homemade soap you had used and wearing another pair of stolen boxers, the space was pitch black. 

Giggles echoed from downstairs in the hall before Jimmy Shite closes the hatch, the sound evidently coming from Jimmy Jones.

Shite slides in beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. For a long time, there was only the sound of the wind rattling against the roof tiles. "Ye all good?" He whispers, and you can hear his head turn against his pillow. "Feels like ye have been off since ye got sent out."

So it was obvious. 

Your mind runs a mile a minute, thoughts traveling all over. From being excluded again from charity, to the way Jimmy had touched you outside and to the way he had eyed you just before in the hallway.

"I'm okay, no need to worry," You turn your own head with a sigh, feeling his breath on your cheek. "Are you okay?"

“Yeah,” You hear him swallow. “I’m good now."

You weren't sure what he meant exactly, but you didn't question it either.

Silence settles again, and your head moves back to the slanted ceiling above, the room dark and your heart heavy. You wanted something, anything, to fill the hollow longing that constantly sat in your stomach.

If you couldn't have Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal, couldn't touch what you worshipped, then you would settle for what you could touch. "Are ye still awake?"

He was quiet for a moment before he mutters a 'yeah’. 

Your hand drifts in the darkness, finding his. He hadn't gotten under the covers either, and his calloused fingers entwines with yours. “Is… Is this okay?”

You hear him swallow despite the way he confidently grips your own scarred hand. “Definitely.”

As if sensing what you were asking for, you feel him sit up, his other hand slowly but surely reaching for your bare thigh. He curses under his breath.

His touch was gentle, sliding over the soft skin before it slides upwards as you part your legs for him further. They stop at the feel of your underwear.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He sighs your name as you sit upright beside him, finding his scarred cheek in the dark. "Ye sure 'bout this?"

"I’m sure," You whisper as you keep your hand on his jaw and lean forward, your thumb reaches out, finding his lips as he groans out a finally.

You peck his lips softly, awkwardly at the angle, and your nose slides against his, breath mingling with his own as he angles his head to meet yours better. "Just touch me, please.”

You could pretend for one night that his touch belonged to someone else, pretend for one night that it was his lips on yours and his cock twitching in his boxers at the feel of you.

He kisses you harder, his hand darting into your underwear as he pushes you back down into the mattress.

You just wanted to feel what your friends downstairs did.

Wanted. Needed. Desired. 

Even if the touch belonged to someone else. 

-

The attic floorboards were thin, old and weathered. They offered no cover to the sounds above.

As Jimmy Shite thrust inside of you, his hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds of your moans, Jimmy lay on his borrowed king bed.

Every creak of the floor, every muffled whisper and moan echoed into his master suite.

He didn't sleep, he just listened. 

Something hot and dark coils in his chest. He hears your soft sighs, your whimpers, and he tries to tune out the groans that come from the other Jimmy.

A surge of white hot possessiveness flares inside of him, making his fingers curl into the duvet below him.

Only when he hears the way you cry out a hot and heavy Jimmy, does he groan himself. It wasn't meant for him, he knew that - it wasn't uncommon for everyone in the group to call each other by just Jimmy.

His own doing.

It didn't matter. The very sound went straight to his cock.

Satan below, he could die a happy man hearing that.

Jimmy's hand dips into his waistband and into his boxers before he can stop himself, eyes trained on the ceiling as he hears you moan and muffle his name even more.

He feels disgusted in himself, the way he grips his hardened cock and strokes to the squeak of the mattress above.

He pictures it's him touching you, pictures your hand gripping him softly, stroking and sliding all over him. 

Would you cry for him too?

Be absolutely soaking wet and pleading for his touch?

You would peer up at him like he was the only man who existed, bite your lip and run your thumb over his slit. You would say his name softly like you were right now.

As Jimmy closes his eyes, squeezing himself harder as he hears you and just you in his ears, he cums harder than he had in a long time. 

He hears you fall apart, the sound even more muffled, and Jimmy knows that Shite is either covering your mouth or you were hiding yourself. 

You would never have to hide yourself if you were with him. You would be loud, free to let everyone know who you belonged to. 

When Jimmy thinks of you, he hears nothing else. 

Hears no one else. 

When he imagines the way you look when you finish, he imagines the way your cunt would squeeze around him and milk him for everything he had.

And he knows he would give it to you freely.

All of it.

Everything you wanted or needed, he would provide. Because you were his, even if you didn't realise it yet.

Jimmy slides his hand out from his boxers, wiping what had coated his hand onto the part of the bed he didn't lay on.

He heard the muffled giggle from your lips above, and he finds himself smiling, imaging again the way you would grin beneath him, or above him. 

However you'd want him, he would allow.

It was only when he heard Jimmy Shite's deep chuckle follow right after that he frowned, his jaw clenching for what felt like the hundredth time. It wasn't right. 

"Are you going to let that filth continue to touch what's yours?"

"'Course I'm fuckin' not." Jimmy replies aloud, adjusting himself in his pants as he clears his throat. 

"Then do something about it my son."

-

The gymnasium still smelled faintly of chlorine and rubber mats, even after nearly three decades of incense, smoke, and bodies passing through it.

The banners others had hung, bright silks scavenged from theatres and dance schools, fluttered lazily from the rafters, turning the place into something between a shrine and a weird version of home.

You’d been here only a few months, but people already spoke your name like you’d always belonged. Jimmy Jones had found you amongst a herd of infected, the last one standing amongst both human and not.

They called you feral at first, a jest and a title in one, and you took it with grace. That is until someone, Jimmy, named you Angel instead, a light in the dark so he claimed. The name stuck, your old one long since forgotten.

The Jim­my's, men and women alike moved through the space in their riot of colour. Tracksuits in neon blues, reds and yellows, all stitched and restitched until they were more patch than original. They laughed loudly, touched freely, lived like the world hadn’t ended all those years ago.

And at the centre of it all, always unmistakable, was Sir Jimmy Crystal himself.

Clean hair, his purple tracksuit immaculate compared to the state of the others. Gold rings flashing when he gestured, necklaces clinking, the upside down cross always being the one to catch your eye the most.

He carried himself like a god amongst man. You never complained, never spoke up about the way he chose to live - not when he gave you a roof over your head when any others in the world would've cast you out.

He had noticed you immediately when you joined. Not hungrily, not like the others did at first, but attentively. Watching the way you walked the perimeters on watch, the way you moved during supply runs.

Calm. Capable. Never complaining. Never behind schedule, and always with a smile.

To say he enjoyed his groups new arrival was an understatement. Jimmy had asked you within the first week if you would like to join a place among his wives, with him.

It had been framed like it was a blessing. Not everyone was asked such a thing after all, this was a privilege others would kill for.

Hot meals every day whenever you wanted. Your own bedroom, a common room with the other wives that others couldn't touch. Hot water. Clean water.

Time with him if he asked for yours - always consensually. He would never force himself on anyone, there was no need to. For any wife who was preoccupied or on their monthly, there were 4 more eager others to take their place.

You had said no almost too quickly, like the very thought hadn't crossed your mind. Truthfully, it hadn't - you didn't know your new leader well enough to justify such an offer.

Sure, the women in his harem seemed all well and truly cared for - dressed to the nines in clothes from the before.

But you were content, comfortable with supporting yourself the same way you had been in your twenty something years of life. There were friendships sparked amongst the Jimmy’s, a sibling like relationship amongst the main group.

You didn't mind sleeping in a room with the others, you enjoyed the ache that lingered in your thighs after a long run beyond the walls. You liked being useful.

Being free.

Jimmy wasn't mad at your refusal. No, he had merely smiled, wide and unbothered. He had nodded with a lilt of his lips, kissing the knuckles on the back of your hand. "Nae bother, the offer will always be there."

It wasn't until you got sick - really sick - that the cracks began to show. Fevers stole your strength, your supply runs were given to others, rations were missed.

The other Jimmy's tried sharing their portions, tried encouraging you to leave your little room and get some sun - but it didn't matter. A flu without medicine was a death sentence nowadays, and it was sheer luck that you had pulled through with nothing of the sort.

You knew you wouldn't be so lucky again.

There was no embarrassment, no mockery or taunts. When you asked him if the offer was still on the table, Jimmy didn't hesitate. "For you? Always."

He was delighted, even laughing in disbelief that the one who got away had actually come back to him, much to the dismay of his five other wives.

You had been moved into your own room not even hours later - with a door that locked, a real bed on a frame, a bathroom with a working basin and shower. You weren't sure what this room had been before the virus took over, but you didn't question either.

The blond wig on your head had been taken from you, leaving you with your real hair, wild and free. Gone were the colourful tracksuits, now just black dresses, skin tight and short. They stared at you from their space in your new closet, and you sat on your new bed, your light green suit still bunched in your hands.

Someone helped bathe you properly, shampoo and conditioner massaged into your scalp, every little nook and cranny on your body and been wiped and cleaned to perfection.

The others saw the scars on your body, saw the evidence of your survival before Jones had found you, and they praised you for them.

Praised you for being strong before finding salvation.

The groan Jimmy had emitted when he first laid eyes on you, all dolled up, was enough to make you beam. Rarely did something so trivial like your appearance worry you, but knowing you alone in just a simple dress was enough to make your usually humorous leader lose his self control? Within mere seconds of entering his room?

It was a confidence boost you never knew you needed.

Your first time with Jimmy was surprising to you. The other wives talked, mentioned how he was set in his ways and knew what he liked. It was true, he liked it on top or from behind - but what surprised you the most was how thoughtful he was through it all.

Vocal, communicative, gentle when he wanted to be, rougher when you wanted it. What surprised you even further, was that he wasn't done with you until you both had finished.

He never finished inside, only on your stomach or on your back - something you were more than okay with.

Eventually, you got bored. Sure, your nights with Jimmy were eventful - a full belly and an orgasm. But to say you hated sitting around on your ass until you were summoned was the understatement of the century.

Within two weeks of your new arrangement, you started adorning your colourful tracksuit and joining your friends again on supply runs. You started taking watch shifts until dusk greeted your senses.

Still disappeared days beyond the walls and returned with blood under your nails and mud on your boots.

Your rations were given to the others, much to everyone's shock. You still shared Jimmy's bed when he requested, other nights you were back in your old room for what felt like a sleepover, throwing jokes amongst your friends.

When you were with him, you never clung. Never begged for more, never tried to compete for the others for his attention. The other wives paid you no mind, busy with orbiting the blond man like moths to a flame.

Their ringed hands wrapped around his arms or chest, laughter at every word that left his lips, jealously spewed and masked just enough to look like devotion.

You didn't orbit at all, and at first he hadn't even noticed. It wasn't until he had called for you on a night you weren't scheduled that he had learnt you had started running again.

He watched from his lifeguard throne as you entered the main hall with Jimmy Ink and Jimmy Shite, a light green tracksuit on your body instead of the tight fitting dress he had picked solely just for you. You were beaming from ear to ear, looking like just any other member of his cult - minus the blond wig the others were encouraged to wear.

You were... Happy.

Eager to be working. When Jimmy discovered you weren't even working for your own rations, he was intrigued.

He had called your name from his podium, his eyes crinkling as he crooked his finger in your direction. You obeyed instantly, your smile never wavering as you said goodbye to the others and damn near skipped over to your husband.

"Jimmy," You were slightly out of breath, looking up at him from where he sat. "Everything okay?"

"Interesting outfit ye got on there," He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he tilts his head. "Been running have we?"

You were confused now. You were certain Jimmy was aware that you had began working again. "Aye, Ink, Shite and I just came back from that old repo joint, found some scrap for the generators,"

He just stared blankly, his expression void. Your hand rests against the tower as you adjust the way you're standing, your teeth beginning to gnaw at the inside of your cheek. "Is there a problem with that?'

"Hm? Oh no, not at all," He hums, but clicks his tongue, his elbows moving as he fixes his own posture. "Just… You're still my wife, yes?"

Your eyebrows furrow at his question. "Last I checked I am, that is… if you want me to be?“

"I do," He answers quickly. "I’m just a little stumped y’know? The whole point of this little agreement of ours was that you don't have to do any of this," He waves his hand in your direction, to the colourful suit and weapon in your hand. "Yer aware of that right? You’re basically working for free out there.” You nod with a bright expression. "Aye, but I quite like doing this whole marriage thing like this, I like the space,” You admit, now balancing on the heels of your feet as you shrug. "Not that I don't like everything you're giving me - I do, I just..." "Just?"

"I'm bored." The words come out before you can stop them, and your nose scrunches as you see Jimmy taken aback.

"Bored?" He repeats.

"I’m sorry, no - uh, that wasn't the right word," You quickly correct yourself. "I'm just not used to sitting around everyday you know? I like being outside, being with the others I mean, s’what I’m used too."

Jimmy's expression changes again, and a small exhale leaves his lips at your revelation. You continue, feeling like there was a strong chance you had insulted him. “I can stop… If ye want me too.”

“Do you want to?”

You didn’t hesitate to shake your head. “Never.”

His mouth opens again to speak, to ask if you would join him tonight when someone else calls your name.

Your head turns, seeing that Shite wanted your weapon for inventory intake. You look back up to Jimmy who just stares in disbelief, seeing the way you couldn't wait to be away from his presence.

He's about to ask again if you would change your night for him, but ultimately decides against it when he sees the way you were still buzzing from your time outside. Instead, he crooks his finger again before pointing to his cheek. "How about a kiss then? Before you go.”

You were more than happy to oblige, climbing the steps to his throne and pressing a delicate peck to his cheek as one of his hands rest on your hip to keep you steady.

You pull away, and Jimmy just looks at you in the eyes. Your smile was infectious, and you looked at him like there was nothing wrong in the world.

Not like the others. You didn’t look at him like he was divinity itself.

He was just a man. You knew that. So did he.

The blond shocks you both when he leans forward once more, pressing a softer kiss to your lips this time. You reciprocated, a small noise leaving your chest at the action. Rarely did Jimmy kiss his wives on the mouth, opting for a mere forehead or cheek. "Off ye go then."

He helps you down with one hand, his eyes never wavering as you leave the large room and him to his thoughts.

For once in his life, Jimmy felt challenged.

-

The common room was louder than you liked most days, which was why you were rarely in it. Too many voices, not enough colour, and not enough friendly faces to warrant your time.

That afternoon however, the rain had trapped mostly everyone inside, and you had claimed a corner lounge near a window. Your heels were kicked off, feet tucked beneath you, a battered paperbacked copy of some Jane Austen story open in your hands.

Another perk of being Jimmy's. The abundance of books you didn't have to scavenge or ration for.

Around you, the other wives lounged around in attire like yours - legs draped over armrests, laughter ringing sharp. Josie braided Lou's hair, Isobel watched some old tv with treats in her hand, Blair and Elsie swapped stories about their last nights with Jimmy.

You were halfway through a paragraph when the room shifted.

Not silence, no, never silence, but attention. The others immediately sat upright, their attention no longer on whatever had taken their time. Jimmy Crystal had entered like he always did, as if the space belonged to him by divine right.

Which rightfully, it did.

His presence rolled through the room in a visible wave, straightened backs, widened smiles, hands reaching for him as they cooed his name. Calling him Sir, asking if he was bored, if he was wanted anything.

He was on a mission however, his eyes finding where you were lounging almost immediately. He crossed the room without hesitation, bypassing the multiple hands that tugged at his sleeves. He stops just behind you, close enough that you can smell the signature musk that was undeniable him.

You feel his fingers before you see them - light, familiar, sliding along the side of your neck. Thumbs brushing your pulse.

He tilts his head as he tilts yours on a little angle, applying a gentle touch to a pressure point in your skin. He smiles, examining you like you were a work of art that he couldn't figure out.

"Comfy?" He purrs, not hiding the way his eyes trail over your body in it’s tight dress.

You don't look up from your book, nodding as you feel the way he continues massaging at your skin. "Very, quite a good book too, y’should read it when I’m finished."

A few of the others laughed, eager to see how the interaction between you two acted out. The other wives enjoyed it - adamant that your lack of attention on your leader would cause him to boot you out sooner or later.

His hand lingered, tracing the line where your neck met your shoulder. Not possessive, just curious. Testing - sweet in its own way. Jimmy hums in agreement at your offer.

“You hiding away in here today?” He asks almost softly, like he knew you were but still wanted to give you the room to speak. “I’ve barely seen you this week.”

You finally glanced up at him, calm as ever, peering up at him through your lashes. “I spent a couple days with Jimmima and Jimmy Jimmy in outpost 3, figured we needed to get the crops before it pished any harder."

He smiled, pleased you’d looked at him at all, nodding at your useful answer. "S'right, Ink mentioned something of the sort," His fingers still wound their way over your neck, stopping by the necklace that held one of his rings.

It was parked between your cleavage, much to his delight, and he fiddled with the piece of jewellery that claimed you as his. "Thought maybe I'd come steal you for dinner later, something different. My room, 'course."

It wasn’t your night. You weren't expected for another three days actually. Everyone in the room knew that, especially him.

You marked your page carefully before closing the book as you blink slowly. "I'd love too, but I have night watch with Fox tonight," Through out it all, you still smiled. "Thank you though, really.”

His brows lifted. Just slightly.

“Nonsense, you've not seen me for some time now,” He said easily, waving a free hand whilst the other stilled on your chest, just teasingly above your breast. “I can have Shite cover, let you have the night off, you’ve earned it.”

You shook your head, polite, almost apologetic. "I'm alright Jimmy, but I'll see you Saturday yeah?” Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you continued. “I'm sure Josie or Lou might be thrilled with your company tonight instead?”

The room went very still. Josie straightened instantly. Lou practically bounced. A few others leaned forward, hungry for the invitation and chance at being chosen on their night off.

Jimmy looked at them. Really looked.

Then back at you.

Something flickered behind his eyes, confusion, then something sharper. Something darker. He laughed, a short and surprised sound. “No,” He said, a bit too quickly. “Not them, not tonight.”

The others masked their disappointment poorly, but no one dared question it.

Jimmy stepped back from you, hands dropping to his sides. “Enjoy your book Angel,” He said, voice light again - back to its usual joking tone. “Have fun on yer uh, run.”

"Night watch." You corrected him, already reopening your book as you sink back into the lounge.

"...Night watch." He repeats with a dull laugh, leaving the room without another glance, gold chains chiming faintly as the doors swung shut behind him.

The noise returned in a rush. Elsie berates you for your carelessness, Lou asking if perhaps her dress wasn't sitting right. You ignored them all, counting down on the clock until you could dress back into your usual tracksuit and out of the useless dress you felt suffocated in daily.

Unbeknownst to you, Jimmy sat on the edge of his four posted bed, staring at his hands. He replayed the moment over and over.

The way you’d thanked him.

The way you didn’t hesitate to say no.

The way you’d offered someone else, like his attention was a resource to be managed, not a gift to be craved.

The others begged. Pouted. Fought for him like he was scraps.

But you? You were fucking scheduling him. You put him on a roster.

He laughed softly to himself, rubbing at the stubble on his face.

“Christ.” He muttered to himself. Thoughts of all sorts lodged deep inside him.

Was he getting bad in bed? Were the gifts not enough?

Were the luxuries he provided lacklustre?

He was uncomfortable.

Not because you didn’t want him - no, he could live with that.

It was that you didn’t need him.

And for a man who had built a kingdom on devotion, that was far more terrifying than any rejection.

The challenge soon festers into something more, and you were completely none the wiser.

A month had passed, and nothing changed.

Which, for Sir Jimmy Crystal, meant everything had.

You still came to him on your scheduled nights. Still slept in your own bedroom the rest of the time. Still took first call on supply runs, still volunteered for watches beyond the walls where the air felt cleaner and the danger was inevitable.

The difference was Jimmy.

He found any reason to see you constantly now. A breakfast that would turn into lunch. A “quick word” that became an afternoon spent talking about the old world - music, movies, the way Scotland used to feel before infected and alphas forced everyone inside and the world went dark.

He liked that you listened without fawning, that you challenged him without trying to make him look stupid.

And you liked him too. You couldn't deny that.

There was genuine laughter between the meals. Real conversation between the sex. Moments where he dropped the performance and just sat with you, barefoot and naked in his room, gold rings abandoned on the bedside table, his tiara on your head when he wanted to hear you laugh.

Still, you refused to call it love.

He knew it. Felt it in the way you still left his warm bed without hesitation, in the way you never lingered unless he actually asked.

He was falling for you anyway, asking for the others less and less.

-

The planning room had once been a referees office. Now it held maps pinned with scavenged knives and pen markings layered over one another like the army itself had created it.

You stood with the others, arms crossed, listening as Jimmy paced. Dressed in the signature outfit of a wife, you tried to ignore the way you stood out like a sore thumb - which was saying something in a room full of velvet and nylon tracksuits.

“They’re completely stocked,” He said, tapping the map sharply with his pointer finger. “Jones saw a few generators, even an infirmary. We hit them hard, fast. All of us during peak. Overwhelm them before they can even say otherwise.”

A murmur of agreement followed out of habit more than conviction.

You frowned. You had scouted that compound with a few of the others just last week. They were raiders, so you didn't feel guilty about doing onto them what they did to others.

Still, you knew such a plan wouldn't work. Before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out, flat, unvarnished.

“No."

The room froze.

You blinked once, already regretting the bluntness but not the sentiment. "They've got some big guys manning the front and back gates," You continue, words steadying.

"If we rush them head on, we lose more people than necessary. I think we should uh," You look around, seeing everyone's eyes on you, including that of your husbands.

Ink urges you on, her eyes gleaming with words unsaid. "I think we should go over the walls at night, aye - cut them down from their towers and take what we need and get out."

Silence stretched.

Then someone nodded. Another and another. Fox muttered agreement under his breath. Even the most loyal looked relieved to have an alternative that didn’t involve bodies.

Jimmy stopped pacing.

For a moment, you thought he might explode.

Instead, he smiled, slowly, the corners of his lips not quite reaching his eyes. "“Night raid eh?” He said. “Less risk, alrighty then Angel, we do it your way.”

Everyone relaxed at once, grateful for his acceptance. The meeting broke shortly after, plans shifting seamlessly to your suggestion.

Some pat you on the back for your suggestion, thankful someone was paying attention to the dangers the others put themselves in.

Jimmy just watches from where he rests against the table, his fingers strumming against the hardwood as he took you in.

"Everyone out," He orders without a second thought, waiting for his disciples to flee before he tuts, catching your wrist before you can follow after them. His touch wasn't rough, but it was firm enough to make his intent clear. "Naw you, you can stay."

The door closed behind the last of them.

He doesn't raise his voice, but the look in his eye was anything but soft. It was displeasure, frustration and the most noticeable of all - embarrassment.

Embarrassment at being bested by a wife.

Embarrassment at his own people not liking his judgement.

He wasn't mad at you by any means, no, far from it. But it was clear Jimmy was tired of the lack of respect you seemed to show him alongside all of the luxuries he provided.

He knew it was his ego speaking, his own self esteem taking a hit at your lack of interest in him.

"You know," He drawls out, his voice a silk lined menace. "I do enjoy this little back 'n forth we got goin' on, really... I do," He watches you carefully, watches the way your eyes dart from the hand on your wrist to his eyes.

"But I am growing rather weary of the appropriate deference for my rather, large role in your very comfortable life."

You just eye him head on. He expected a tremble, maybe a quick apology and forgiveness, but instead you just lowly shrugged. "You wanted me first, did you forget that?”

Jimmy laughs loudly at this, agreeing quickly with a sharp nod, a grin large on his features. "I could never forget, Aye, very much so - still do, nothing's changed there... Just, I feel like we need to reestablish something 'ere."

"Reestablish?" You repeat.

"Go to my room," He says softly in return, ignoring your question, the casualness of such an order not lost on you.

It should've caused some fear.

Should've sparked something inside akin to regret. But it didn't, you saw right through his words. "On my bed. Nothing on, kneeling or hands 'n knees - am not a picky man."

"Jimm-"

He stepped closer, leaning in so his lips brushed your ear. "And I will meet you there when I feel like it too. Whether that’s five minutes from now, or five hours, not sure yet," He presses a kiss to your neck, inhaling your scent. "I want the anticipation, the very eagerness of it all to set in, understand? You don’t move from that spot.”

You met his gaze again, unflinching. Whilst his features were stern, smug and proud - you could see it in his eyes, the out he was still offering. Even through what looked and sounded like a clear order, he would never take what wasn't offered to him freely.

He pulled back when he hears you mutter a yes sir, smiling softly down at you with his own mutter of a good girl, tapping your cheek softly.

The shift from punishment to praise was jarring.

"You've no idea how much ye pain me," he whispered, a genuine, possessive heat in his eyes. "But you’ve no idea how much I enjoy it either."

He turned his back on you, already pouring over the finalised plan of the raid. You knew he wanted to savour the feeling of you waiting, helpless, for him, at his mercy for when he was ready.

You took exactly two steps toward the door before he called you by your real name, not Angel. The very sound caught you off guard, and Jimmy just chuckles at the evident shock. "Go on now, be a good little wife."

He didn't miss the way your thighs squeezed together, the way you now avoided his gaze. You knew he would see the heat that clouded your gaze.

Instead you nodded, leaving the room before you could say something that might set him off further.

That alone sent something sharp through him.

-

You had barely been kneeling on the end of his bed before his footsteps approached.

Your heels were discarded to the floor, your dress and underwear beside it. Bare to the world, hands on your thighs and dripping with the burning need that came from such a vulnerable position.

Ten minutes. Not even that.

He shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a second like he’d been holding his breath.

"Cannae admit I didn't last very long," He admitted lightly, his eyes trailing all over where you were kneeling. "Didn't want too, how could I with such a beauty in my bed?" You didn't respond, choosing to look at him with your head on an angle. He crossed the room, stopping in front of you with a large exhale as he sees just how pretty you looked like this.

His hands immediately reach out to hold onto the cheeks of your face, angling your head so you looked up at him from below. "My brave girl, that was quite the stunt before, y'know that?"

Still, you didn't speak, and Jimmy's eye twitches at your lack of rebuttal. "Say something."

"Is that was this is about?" You finally murmur against his palms, rubbing your cheeks against his skin. "You've got me like this because I spoke up?"

One of his thumbs brushes down over you lip before it dips to your collarbone. Even like this, naked beneath him, skin hot and pussy leaking, you still had him wrapped around your finger.

Jimmy swears he's never been harder.

His usual baggy slacks provided no relief to the strain beneath his boxers, and he doesn't miss the way your eyes dart down to the sight before back to his blue eyes.

He was in charge. He was in charge.

He knew then that he didn't need your worship.

_________

"Paddy," You speak again, slowly this time, as if the very weight of his name on your tongue became a soft hymn. "Don't hide from me."

"M'not hiding," he attempted to argue, the words falling short as another sigh left his lips as you dragged your nails across his hips. He says your name again this time, half in warning, half in protest. "You're just playin' a very dangerous game here."

"So play with me then." Your voice sounded like warm honey, sweet despite the sinful desire that laced your words.

"Christ."

Paddy's eyes almost plead with you. The blues bearing into your darkened gaze, pleading to tell him to leave, that you're just not thinking straight. That maybe you didn't want him like he wanted you, merely toying with him like usual.

But you didn't.

The words never came.

There were no jest or taunts.

Instead your fingers continued dragging across the thin cotton of his tee, gliding dangerously close to the waistband of his pants. He watched through half lids, his breathing coming out laboured as he clenched his fists.

The veins in his arms looked even more prominent in his tense state, and you adjust the way you were laying, moving to sit on the haunch of your legs.

You didn't miss the way he eyed your thighs, the bare flesh screaming his name, begging to be seized.

Paddy looms over you, the low light from the lantern flickering just enough to see the water from his shower still drip from his hair.

His broad shoulders, scarred and bruised, the rise and fall of his chest as he attempted to steady his breathing.

"Careful now." His voice deepens as he says your name right after, his head tilted as his right hand reaches out, stopping yours from continuing its little journey.

His large hand encompasses yours, covering it entirely. He doesn't push you away, just keeping it still.

He looks over his shoulder, staring at the closed tent walls. His men lay ten tents down, the faint sound of their chatter greeting both of you.

You tilt your head, looking up at the man through your lashes.

God, the very sight of you alone could killed him.

No war necessary, just pretty eyes and lips to die for.

You say his name softly, a different tone to his. It was obvious he had a million thoughts running through his mind, some causing the tent in his pants to grow even more.

"We don't have to do anything," you continue, tugging his hand away from yours, entwining your fingers instead. "We can just go to sleep, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable?" He immediately looks back to you, his eyebrows furrowed, almost annoyed you could even think negatively about yourself. "Is that what ye think you're doing' to me? Making me uncomfortable?"

Your words stutter, worried you might dig yourself a deeper hole. Paddy however squeezes your hand tighter, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath hitch.

He says your name again, demanding you look at him properly.

"All I want to do is lay you down and go to fuckin' town," He says the words so casually, you couldn't help the way your lip quivered, the way his classy speech made the heat in your belly grow more per second. "But we can't - I can't, ye deserve better than some shite tent and a wire bed."

That's what he was worried about?

Lord.

"Paddy," You couldn't help but chuckle, using the grip on his hand to stand to your feet, your legs shaky from the awkward seating position you had been in. "I'm not worried about where we are, far from it." He helps you stand to your feet, once again eyeing your every move - almost afraid this was a hallucination from a concussion he wasn't aware he had. "Ye should be, sand can be a bastard."

"Noted," You laugh, the sound causing the tension in his body to ease just ever so slightly. "Paddy?"

He hums in response, his hands reaching down to rest on your waist, his fatigues feeling thin as they rest on your skin.

"I want you to touch me," You tell him, choosing to not beat around the bush any further. "I would like for you to touch me."

"Am touching you," He replies, his eyebrow raised as he steps closer, crowding you until your legs touch the edge of his bed once more. "S'that not good enough?"

Your eyes close, feeling the heat of his body pressed against yours. His erection strained against his pants, and you could feel the hardness rubbing against your front.

You trembled slightly, and Paddy noticed every little shake, smiling down at you.

"I-it is," You nod, but you reach for his hands, sliding them down your waist and under the fatigues until Paddy continues the movement himself. His rough hands felt surprisingly gentle as they glide across the bare flesh of your ass, his calloused hands kneading the skin. "Jesus."

"So soft, so fuckin' pretty," He mutters, continuing to run his hands over your behind, pressing himself further into you. "You take such good care of us all, y'know that right?"

Your head falls against his chest, his touch alone making you feel unbelievably hot. Nodding, your fingers bunch at his shirt, and you sigh, feeling Paddy press a kiss to your temple.

His lips stay close to your ear, one of his hands reaching up to cradle the back of your head.

"Don't think I've ever thanked ye properly," His fingers lingered in your hair, his grip tightening just slightly. "Bit rude of me, isn't it?" You shake your head. "Pad-"

"Lie down," He interrupts you, stepping back to let you move freely. You hesitate, his words causing your mind to whirl. "Go on girl."

Biting your lip, Paddy raises his eyebrow once more, watching you intently. "You refusing an order?"

If you weren't unbelievably turned on right now, you'd have half the mind to tell him he wasn't your boss, that he couldn't tell you what to do.

Truth be told, Paddy could tell you he was six feet tall, and you'd believe him, even though you had working eyes.

He eyed you like a man starved. Could he sense the ache that gnawed behind your chest every time he was near you? Could he feel the heat that bloomed low in your stomach with each touch?

He was far too observant for his own good, of course he could.

Paddy offers you a sheepish smile, and he watches as you lower yourself to his bed once more, lying back until your head rest against his pillow.

Clearing his throat, he kneels down on the bed once you're settled and his hands outstretch, flexing as they rest against your knees, shuffling until he kneels between your thighs comfortably.

His large hands part your thighs, an audible groan leaving his chest at what greeted him.

The two of you remained completely clothed, and it confused you. Sure, you weren't wearing any underwear beneath Paddy's shirt, but the man before you was covered, and you tapped his hand, pulling him out of his trance as he eyed your soaked pussy.

"What are you doing?" You whisper, feeling like your vocabulary was slowly but surely short-circuiting.

His brows lifted slightly, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place crossing his face. "What am I doing darlin'? Oh, nothin'."

Mother fucker. His knuckles brushed your skin, sliding up and over your legs. He was taking his time, observing the way you trembled beneath his every touch. Savouring it.

"You ever been touched like this?" he almost purrs, parting your legs even further. "You're always so headstrong, so sure of everything, 'specially when you're teasin' 'lil old me."

"Paddy I've fucked bef-"

"Shh," He cuts you off, a familiar smirk growing on his features. "Not talking 'bout that, I'm asking if you've been cared for, properly."

You didn't answer, looking down at where he rests between your legs. It was your turn for your breathing to quicken, your heart pounding against your chest, ready to burst at any given moment.

The silence was enough for him to gather an answer, and he chuckles to himself.

"That shut you up didn't it?" he continued, smug and confident. "About time."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but before you could respond, Paddy leans down, his head disappearing between your legs.

A gasp immediately leaves your lips as his hands slip up to grope at your ass, pulling you further down the bed and closer to his mouth.

The fatigues you wore had been bunched up awkwardly around your stomach, your lower half exposed to the air, to Paddy.

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, then another, and another, letting his lips memorise ever little shiver you give beneath him.

He nuzzles against the top of your pussy with his nose, and he inhales, lifting slightly - just enough to poke his head up and look at you through your parted thighs. "You gonna be quiet f'me?"

Paddy could've laughed at how quickly you nodded, eager for him to continue. His head dips again, and although the words were muffled, you just managed to hear him mumble a good lass.

God.

He so badly wanted to comment on how wet you were for him, how much you had already leaked onto his sheets before he had even touched you, but he decided against it.

It was hot.

You were soaked.

He was relentless.

A cry left your lips, to which you immediately shoved one of your hands in your mouth, biting at the flesh to stop any further sound.

His tongue licks into you like a man starved, slow circles dancing beside quickened flicks, his lips pressed against your cunt as his nose rubbed against your clit.

Your other hand flies into his hair, gripping and tangling into the half dried strands as Paddy grins against you.

His tongue dips slowly between your lips, savouring the taste, groaning as you tugged at his hair tighter. With every stroke forward, he made sure to nudge at your swollen clit.

You'd think he had been deprived, starved, lapping at your pussy like it was his last meal on Earth.

With your toes curling, Paddy wrapped his arms under your thighs, shifting the way he laid so they rest against his broad shoulders.

The angle let him see you better as he gazed up, smiling to himself upon seeing your eyes closed, your hand between your lips and face contorted in bliss.

He couldn't help but grind his hips into the bed at the sight, chasing some friction as his cock strained harder against his pants. His fingers grip your soft skin tighter, almost as if he was scared you would disappear beneath his touch.

"Fuck, Paddy-- Oh god," your words came out muffled against your hand as you pulled it away from your mouth, the flesh covered in the indents of your teeth. "Fuck."

Your breathing was ragged, your lower half grinding against the lieutenants face as he groaned against you, the vibration shooting straight through your cunt.

Paddy's tongue slides down harder through the slick, dipping inside your hole before sliding back up, his lips sucking onto your clit with a sound so filthy, it made you grind harder.

He was never-ending, determined to feel you writher against his tongue. You were unraveling before him, it had been so long since you had even touched yourself, let alone let anyone make you feel like this.

It was the quietest Paddy had ever been, save for the little groans leaving his chest with every tug of his hair. You could feel your orgasm approach, and you were determined to drag it out as much as possible.

Your mind began to wonder, trying to think of anything but the man between your legs, devouring your pussy like it was his final day alive.

You wondered if it would feel different if he still had his beard, if the sensation would be the same.

Okay, you weren't trying hard enough to think of anything but Paddy.

"T-this shut you up, didn't it?" You repeat his words from just moments prior, surprised you could even muster up the strength to speak.

Your words were softer, sweeter, almost breathless and full of something he couldn't explain.

He moans again, and you half expected him to taunt you, tease you and make you beg, but he doubles down.

He was drowning in your taste.

Every lap of his tongue drove you closer and closer to seeing stars. You were barely holding it together, and you look down at the man between your legs, feeling the way his fingers gripped at your thighs tighter, almost pulling your ass off the bed and further into his mouth.

Every nerve was on fire. Your skin was hot, thighs shaking, your feet digging into Paddy's upper back.

"Paddy," you gasped, throwing your head back against his pillow. "I-I'm, I gonna-"

He speeds up, and it hit harder than you thought possible.

Hard. Blinding. You felt yourself shatter and your thighs close around his head as your back arched. Not wanting to pull his hair out, your hands reached for the sheets beneath you, grasping at them tightly.

Paddy didn't stop for a second, eager to draw it out as long as he could. Every little sound, every whimper and whisper of his name was like poetry to his ears, and he knew he was done for then and there.

He lapped at your release before kneeling back onto the haunches of his legs, wiping at his soaked mouth with the back of his hand with an audacious grin.

Your lips were parted, body shaking beneath him as you stared up at him through a lidded gaze, smiling at the smug grin he sports, some slick still glistening on his cheeks and down his neck.

"Thought I told ye to be quiet f'me," Paddy reaches down, grabbing the hem of his shirt and throwing it up and over his head.

The white vest falls to the ground, and he falls forwards once more, resting over you with one arm pressed to the side of your head, supporting his weight. "Didn't do a good job now, didya"?

He was so beautiful, his chest marred with various scarring. His shoulders tensed, the veins in his arms demanding attention.

Aftershocks still riddled your body, and you just shrugged the best you could, parting your thighs again to let him lay between them.

He was just inches from your swollen pussy, his clothed cock still unbelievably hard and twitching in his slacks.

He chuckles at your lack of words, his other hand coming down to stroke your cheek before it slides down your jaw, his touch tender.

His fingers glide down further, down your neck until they reach the top bottom on his fatigues.

"You look like a right beauty like this," it was as if he wasn't speaking directly to you, but to himself, reminding himself that you were real, here and beneath him. "Wearing my clothes, laying in my bed, s'good, s'right."

Paddy unbuttons his shirt slowly, revealing more of your skin to him with each passing second. As your breasts were freed from the cotton, he pushes the sleeves down, letting you slide the shirt off.

He helps you sit upright just a little, pulling the garment off your shoulders and you giggle, watching as he tosses it somewhere to the floor.

He inhales sharply as you lay completely bare. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't seen you naked before, truthfully having accidentally peaked when he babysat your showers.

It was different now, as your chest rose with every intake of air, your nipples hard and pebbled - he couldn't help but lean down, taking one in his mouth, and your head fell back once more, your hands pressed against his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh with each suckle.

You were so beautiful, even more so like this, falling apart underneath him. You were like an annoying little angel in his life.

Your breasts were the most soft and perfect mounds, and if it were up to him, he'd never have them hiding behind your nursing uniform.

Releasing your nipple with an audible pop, he turns his attention to the other, his hands reaching up to grasp both breasts, squeezing and pushing them together.

"Paddy," You whisper, your hand dragging up his neck to pull at his hair, causing his head to snap back. He releases your nipple, looking at you intently, his blue eyes dark. He hums your name, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner wrist. "Can I return the favour?"

He groans at the question, but he shakes his head. "I want nothin' more than to feel your smart mouth around me," he swallows, almost as if fighting something inward. "But I want to fuck ye, and I can't say I'm gonna last very long love."

The admission caused you to grin, laughing softly as his cheeks warmed. He kisses your wrist again, rolling his eyes at your giggles. "Yeah, keep laughin'," he pushes you back down to the mattress, sitting back to pull the waistband of his pants down, just enough to release his cock from its confines. "You're gonna make some more pretty noises real soon."

His cock stood tall, hard and leaking at the tip, swollen and no doubt aching. Paddy grabs his shaft, giving himself as few languid strokes before he once again settles between your legs.

Broad arms tense around you as he supports his weight, and your body shudders in anticipation.

Paddy cages you in, and you arch, desperate to have him closer.

"Please." you whisper, almost whimpering as he tuts.

He fists his cock once more, dragging the head of his weeping tip through your leaking cunt, still sensitive from his tongue just moments before.

"So fuckin' pretty." His accent sounded thicker now, a darker contrast to his normal tone. A rough groan leaves his lips again as he drags the thick head through your slick again, slow and deliberate, teasing in a way. His jaw clenches, his entire body tensing as he curses.

He felt like he was lost. Lost to the feel of your pussy as he glided his cock through your folds, lost to the taste of you that still lingered on his tongue, lost in the way his name left your lips like it was the only prayer you knew.

"I think you're gonna be the death of me," his voice sounded wrecked, a whisper. He makes a sound akin to a whimper, watching as your eyes flicked down to where he was gripping himself, noting the way your breath hitched ever so slightly. "And I don't think I mind very much either."

"Paddy," you murmur, dragging your hips up so his cock dipped further down, tilting your head as you bite your lip. "No more poetry, please just f-"

The bastard pushes forward before you can continue.

Your body instinctively clenches around him, a deep choked sound tearing from his throat as he pushed into you with a slow thrust, sinking in inch by inch until his hips were flushed with yours.

It burned, you weren't going to lie. It had been some time since you had been with anybody, let alone someone of Paddy's size. It was delicious, even with the orgasm he had brought out of you, your body still gasp, your fingers digging hard into his shoulders.

The two of you both swore at the same time, Paddy instantly praising you for taking him so well.

"Christ," He grunts, his head falling to your shoulder as his chest falls against yours, caging you in completely. His hands grip at your waist, his grasp so tight that you were sure you would be bruised by the time the sun came up. "Just as I imagined."

You moan at his words, at the stretch, at the way he felt so thick and warm inside you.

It was as if he had taken the air from your lungs, stolen your very breath as all you could do was cling to him as he set a mouth watering rhythm, his hips slamming into yours in a desperate rhythm.

Paddy's lips were on your neck, muttering sweet nothings and into your skin between his own ragged breathing.

He whispers your name, the very sound on his lips causing you to clench around him. He cries out at the action, his hips twitching, and before you knew it - he was sinking impossibly deeper, his cock pressing further into your tight hole.

A cry escapes you, and Paddy reaches up, covering your hand with his mouth as he thrusts harder. Muffled moans and choked sobs are hidden beneath his hand, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder as you cling to him.

The bed squeaked beneath, reminding the two of you of the flimsy state of it's frame and where exactly you two were.

He should've cared more.

He should've given you a proper room in a safer place.

But lord above if you didn't make the vast desert outside and this little tent feel like cloud nine.

You were being loud. Hell, he was being loud.

He didn't care at all.

Your nails raked down his back, your thighs wrapping around his hips as you whimpered his name from under his hand. Paddy revelled in the way you shook beneath him, the way you clenched around his throbbing cock and soaked his thighs.

The very way you squirmed, the way you moaned and marked his flesh with your nails felt like every poem he had ever read.

Unforgettable.

The hand over your mouth shifts, stroking at your cheek as he turns your head, finally pressing his lips against yours, swallowing every little moan you gave him.

His tongue parted your lips, moving with a steady purpose as he licked into your mouth, groaning, eyebrows furrowing as his thrusts grew rougher.

Utterly his.

Your taste, lingering from his moments between your thighs mixed with your spit. It felt filthy, an intimacy neither of you were used too.

You belonged to him.

Utterly yours.

Paddy moans into your mouth, his breathing sharp as your sinful cries fill his ears. "Beautiful," he stutters against your lips in-between kisses, pecking the corner of your mouth. "Ye feel so fuckin' good."

"P-Paddy," You whimper, and he coos, bringing his lips back to yours to muffle the loud noises once more. "F-fuck."

He belonged to you.

"I know darlin," He pulls away, still inside you as he adjusts the way he was resting between your legs. His arms cage the side of your head as you look up at him, a blissful and fucked out expression that no doubt mirrored his own. "I know."

You were a mess beneath him, hips lifting to meet every stroke, your nails digging into his arms now, breasts bouncing with every thrust. Paddy was unraveling with every sound you made, every little squeak and murmur of his name.

So tight, so warm, so wet and fluttering around him with every slow thrust of his hips. Each roll of his body drew a breathy moan from your lips, and he drank them down like they were keeping him alive.

He grins as he sees you arch against him. "Just like that," he rasps, his voice dripping with a sultry tone. "Look at ye."

Your head falls back against the pillow, eyes closing as the familiar build up of heat started forming in your lower stomach. Every time your hips rocked against his, he felt that pulsing clench of your cunt, squeezing him in, and he knew you were getting close.

Paddy was surprised he had even lasted this long, especially with how pretty you looked losing yourself under him, how fucked dumb you looked.

He was close too, his balls tightening as he grinded into you so deliciously, memorising the way your walls squeezed him.

Angling his hips, he chuckles as your head turns, gasping into his pillow. He tuts again, bringing his fingers to your jaw and forcing you to look into his eyes.

Your mouth opened in a sharp gasp as your orgasm hit you, body seizing under his as your eyes rolled back. With your thighs trembling and walls fluttering around him, your nails dug into his arms causing him to wince at the pain.

Gasping his name, Paddy groans, leaning down and swallowing your cries once more with his lips.

He kept moving, kept fucking you through it with a slow and steady thrusts. In true Paddy fashion, he wanted to tease you, mock you for how much you lost yourself because of him - but he couldn't, even if he tried.

With your pussy still clenching around him, warm and wet, his control lifted. He panted, pulling away from the kiss and shaking his head in an attempt to gather himself as his hips stuttered.

With punched-out gasps, Paddy pulled out, a whine and choked sob leaving the both of you as he reached down, stroking himself hard and fast.

His jaw clenches, his teeth pressed so tightly together as he looked you over, watching as you gazed up at him in a lovesick haze. He was in awe, continuing to fist his cock with earnest as you bit your lip, your left hand sliding over his chest.

Sweat clung to both of your bodies, the air hot and smelling of sex as Paddy grips your thigh with his other hand, thrusting into his hand one final time.

He cums hard, his hips shuddering as he spills across your stomach and breasts. His whole body shakes, his teeth gritted as he grunts your name, ropes shooting from his tip and painting your skin.

His head drops to his chest as he gathers his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you begin to giggle beneath him once more.

Words escape him for a second, which was unusual, and he narrows his eyes at you as he peers down, his own smile growing on his handsome face.

"What's funny?"

"I'm going to need another shower," Grinning, the two of you looking down at his release on your front. You still shivered, your body twitching at the two orgasms he coaxed out of you. "Third one today too."

"I just fucked ye," Paddy shakes his head, running his hand over your hip as he moves to lay beside you. His cock softening between his legs as he shifts, making sure not to press on your hair as he lays down. "And you're thinkin' 'bout the shower?"

The two of you were beaming at each other, basking in the glow of the lantern lit tent. You both just lay there, eyeing each other with half-lidded gazes. His hand strokes at your cheek tenderly, and you lean into it, holding onto his wrist, gazing into his eyes as he leans forward again, pressing a softer kiss to your lips, pressing against the swollen pair.

"Think I love ye." He mutters, his eyes closed in fear he'd see regret, in fear he'd see rejection.

He feels your hand on his cheek, mirroring him, and he slowly opens his eyes, seeing your adoring features, a gentle smile upon your heated skin. "I think I love you too," you tell him, and he exhales, nodding. "Idiot."

He kisses you again, and he goes to say something when loud and audacious moans and groans can be heard from outside. Grunts follow it, and Paddy sits upright immediately, shielding your frame from whoever may enter his tent.

Claps greet you both.

Another grunt can be heard, followed by multiple choruses of laughter. "You two done in there?" Someone laughs, smacking the side of the tent. "We need the nurse, Pat's awake."

Someone moans again, attempting to sound feminine as you bury your head in your hands. "Give us a minute," Paddy yells out, half embarrassed, half amused. "Bastards."

He gives you a nudge with his elbow, giving you a pointed look with a lopsided smile. "You did tell them to come find you if they needed it."

Your eyes widen as you smack his arm.

-

Jimmy had stripped within minutes of making you 'wait' for him, his taunts a forgotten thought. He couldn't control himself around you, he couldn't stop the way he needed to feel impossibly close, his skin pressed against yours.

He had you flipped onto your knees within seconds, sheathed inside your leaking heat before you could even brace yourself.

Filthy.

Your husband was utterly filthy.

Filthy in the way his hips rolled against your soft ones.

Dirty in the way he pushed your head into his silk sheets, your name on his lips as he grunted.

He pushed himself further and inside until he felt like he was suffocating inside your leaking cunt. He felt drunk, he felt filthy himself in the way his own resolve was disappearing after just minutes inside you.

Your thighs quivered with every sharp thrust, hands bunched into the sheets, head turned to the side as breathless moans left your drooling lips.

"Fuckin' god," His hips stuttered as he sunk his cock deeper, rutting into you like a man starved. "M-my perfect fucking wife - shit - d'ya feel how wet you are? Soaking me, soaki- Christ."

Jimmy huffs through his nose as a louder grunt escapes his chest, the hand on your head releasing it's grip as he drags his hands over the softness of your lower back before gripping both of your hips, fucking you against him as you manage to sit upright a little onto your elbows. He spanks your ass and thighs with each jiggle, the rings providing a sting you relished in.

"Fuck-," You all but hiccuped, squeezing around him as you writhed on the bed. "Jim-Jimmy, s'too much, oh god, mmf, I can’t -.”

It was as if you alone were made for him, made to go completely dumb on his cock as he pounded you into his mattress. Pussy squeezing him, sweet noises from your lips as drool leaked from the corners.

Teary eyes, an open mouth as only whining noises became the normal. Jimmy leans over you with his usual grin, trying to give off a semblance of restraint despite the sweat on his forehead and the furrow in his brow.

"Huh? What's that angel? S'too much? Naw, you - shit, you can take it, fuckin' made for this."

His hands are everywhere, shaky but firm, everywhere at once. His groans sound almost like a whimper as you clench around him.

Your voice felt high pitched as he stretches you deliciously, bottoming out with a few harder thrusts, his balls slapping against you with an almost disgustingly wet sound.

Jimmy whispers something from behind you, names you can't make out through the sound of skin against skin, prayers you didn't recognise.

Your breath leaves you in sharp gasps as you feel Jimmy reach around, his hand on your tummy as he positions you upright, your back pressed flush against his own chest.

He keeps you pinned to him as he ruts into you, and all you can do is cling to his arm for support as your eyes close.

"My brave girl," He all by coos in your ear, his movements turning slow as he drags his hips. "So strong for me aren't you? So, God - so fucking wet and full of me, so fucking proud all the time."

Your eyes open at hearing his words more clearly, your nails digging into his bicep as your free hand rests on his hip. Your thighs burned at the angle, your breasts bouncing roughly as Jimmy shifts his hold on you.

"Shut up." You managed to get the words out, even if they sounded weak.

He chuckles in your ear, the sound light despite the roughness of his hips. "Naw, think yer too good f'me?" A harder thrust sends you nearly forward, but he catches your slip.

"Goin' out everyday, workin', fuck," He slides the hand on your chest to your throat, keeping a light but evident grip as he slows his hips even further, causing you to whine. "Ignorin' me, ignoring your darling husband, leaving me here waiting f’you.”

Your thighs quivered and with your last bit of strength, you tapped Jimmy's right thigh three times. It was an immediate stop, a way to tell him enough.

His thrusts stopped, the hand on your throat loosening as he immediately turns your head towards him, wanting to see what caused the interruption. He slides out of you, the empty feeling nearly making you regret making him stop.

He expected swears, expected you to cuss him out for berating you during sex, but instead you shifted your position, grabbing the blond by his necklaces, pushing him down.

A grunt leaves his mouth at the surprise, his back bouncing against the sheets as he lands. He's about to ask what's wrong when you're climbing over him, your thighs straddling his own as you reach down between your legs, gripping him in your fingers and guiding him back inside.

A wife had never been on top before.

You didn't care.

Jimmy's eyes were wide as he stared up at you, his hair a mess and clinging to his forehead and cheeks as his mouth opened. You feel tighter at this angle, and he feels thicker, pressed so full inside of you that you can't help by dig your nails into his chest.

It feels like you're in a trance, your hips immediately bouncing and sliding up and down on his cock as Jimmy moans so loudly, you nearly feel it in your chest.

"Jimmy," You whimper, and the man swallows, hard, shaking his head as his hands immediately reach for your hips. He felt lost for just a split second, not having had someone ride him in what felt like forever. "Oh my god, y’feel so good, so fucking good like this."

The praise from your lips sounded better than any worship he had received in his lifetime.

Being on top gave someone else power he didn't like. Being on top and leaving him at someone's mercy was never apart of the deal.

But as he watches your tits bounce in his face, your face clouded and contorted in pleasure, he couldn't help but realise he never wanted to be away from this feeling again.

For once, the words escape him, his mouth hung open as he lets out a soft groan that resembled your real name. You didn't plan on flipping things around on him, literally, but you were so eager to shut him up.

With the quickly growing pace of your hips, sliding down his thick cock like it was second nature, your palms pressing down against his abdomen, the ridges of muscles spasming under your touch as the flush in his chest spreads up his neck and to his cheeks.

Your fingers wound through the small tufts of hair under his bellybutton before back to his chest.

"I-" His brow furrows further, his face squeezed with an emotion you can't quite decipher nor care too. It felt too good, he felt too good. "My Angel, look at ye”.

Jimmy manages to sit upright, burying is face into the crook of your neck as he grunts, one hand still on your hip as the other slides over your lower back, up and across until he's gripping your jaw and bringing his lips to yours in a rough and wet kiss.

You cry into his mouth, Jimmy swallowing the sound as he licks into you, now gripping the back of your head as he guides you over his dick in a desperate pace.

Your hands reach around his neck, resting deep into his unruly blond strands as he moans unapologetically, kissing you with even more earnest. Despite how he chased your lips, he pulls back and grants you the sight of pure adoration.

He thrusts, the grip on your jaw never loosening as he keeps your eyes on his, his nose mere inches from yours as he watches you take what's yours and fall apart.

He feels like he's everywhere. His mouth back on yours, a ringed hand at your hip, his hips rutting into your pussy. The sweet drag of the base of his cock dragging over your clit and causing a gasp to leave your lips. You tug at the roots of his hair, granting you another delicious groan from his throat.

Jimmy's thrusts feel sloppier by the second, and the coil in your belly grows with each drag of your hips. Desperate to feel more, you reach down to between your legs, but Jimmy stops you with a quick click of his tongue.

"I got ye," He hums in approval at the way you let him slide his thumb over your clit, the embarrassingly loud sounds of your love making echoing through his bedroom and no doubt the hall.

The sounds were lewd, wet and rough, but you paid them no mind. "What a pretty little sight,"

You make the mistake of closing your eyes, relishing in the way Jimmy toyed with your clit in the same time the head of his cock pressed inside of you in a way that should've hurt.

"Ah ah, look at me," His words were an order and a beg in one. Whilst his cheeks were flushed and brows were furrowed in an attempt to keep control, his eyes were full of worship, of obsession. "Ye close? Can feel it huh, feel ye squeezin' me. Yeah, yeah you are."

He could always tell when you were, felt the shift in you almost instantly. He praises you the entire time, continuing his thrusts and swipe of his thumb to prolong the feeling. His own eyes struggled to stay open as he felt you squeeze him like you'd never feel him again.

You expected Jimmy to pull out after you came, but as he felt you quiver and pulse around him and attempt to move off of him, he grips your hips.

“No,” He mutters, bringing his hand to cradle your jaw while his lips skim over the shell of your ear once more. “Wanna feel you, all of ye, inside.”

It was your turn to be shocked.

Another rule broken.

And in a moment clouded by lust and something else you couldn't name, you nodded eagerly, bringing your lips to his again as he rutted inside you until he painted your walls with his cum.

You sighed his name, dragged the tips of your fingers over his jaw and cheeks until they swiped over his bottom lip. He chased your touch with each stutter of his hips, with each muscle that tightened in his lower stomach. It was you telling him how pretty he looked at this angle.

To say filling you felt like heaven was an understatement. He realised then and there that it was a feeling he would chase every chance he could.

Jimmy had cleaned you up, more gentle than you were used too. Had bathed you like you now carried a part of him that he was adamant could break.

He asked if you’d stay with him, but you declined with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, explaining that as much as you wanted too, you had an early morning start with the others.

Your husband watches as you leave his room with a slight limp, unable to hide the grin at the sight. But through it all, he found his obsession for you growing by the second.

Three rules broken tonight, and neither of you cared. If it were up to Jimmy, you would be barefoot and full of him 24/7.

Thankfully, it was up to him.

-

The steam from the porcelain mug curled around your face, smelling faintly of damp earth and bitter roots.

It was an old remedy, a mixture of wild carrot seeds and some herb you couldn't name that an older member had scavenged from the hills.

It tasted like dirt, but in a world without much else to offer, it was your only insurance. The older Jimmy said it worked if you took it regular - said it mattered now more than it ever had.

She called it Plan B, a name taken from the before.

"Oh, come on, don't just sit there sipping that shit," Josie nudged you, her eyes wide with a mix of confusion and genuine curiosity.

"The whole hall heard him the other night. Jimmy doesn't sound like that unless he's got someone strung up. He was practically crying, the hell did you do to him?"

You blew on your tea, looking at the circle of women clad in their dresses and heels, matching yours.

Your morning with the actual Jimmy's had turned into a few days in another outpost, much to your delight. Amongst the others, you felt like you had a family, like you belonged to people who had your back through thick and thin.

No tight dress, no heels, just a baggy green suit and a weapon in your hands.

Back in the common room however, you felt judged. As if your very movements were constantly being ridiculed. The common room was thick with heat and curiosity.

You sat cross legged on your chosen lounge, mortar and pestle balanced on the couch beside you.

Across from you, the wives were buzzing now that you were back with them.

“Hello?” Josie whined, nudging you again when you decided to drink your tea instead of talking. “He was loud. Like, loud loud, damn near kept me awake.”

Lou covered her mouth, eyes bright. “We heard him down the hall, heard ye both actually, the hell did you two do?"

Elsie laughed, delighted at the conversation finally being had. "Never had him make a noise like that before, thought you were havin' a party in there."

You didn’t look up as you looked into your cup. "What's the problem?"

"Problem?" Another echoes, a scoff on her red lips. "Ye had him screaming, we wanna know everything."

“I got on top?" You said simply, finally peering up at the others as you sip.

Silence hit the room like a dropped plate.

"Sorry?” Josie said flatly.

Lou blinked. “Oh you are such a liar."

Blair actually sits up straighter from her spot on her couch, pausing the tv she had been watching. "Bullshit, ye got on top?" She didn't seem as displeased as the others, if anything, she was intrigued. "He never allows that, didnae think he had it in him."

You shrugged, swirling the mixture again before downing it in one go, face barely twitching at the taste. "Heat of the moment I guess,"

The heat of the tea begins to settle in your stomach as you see the women all share glances, as if an unspoken conversation amongst them was finally coming to light. "I don't know what to tell ye all, it just happened - I guess he didn't mind too much at the time?"

"Minded?" Josie scoffed. "He basically danced outta his room the next mornin', he completely forgot about his breakfast with Blair."

"Which was fine by me by the way," Blair pipes up, her head lounging over the back of her couch, hair long and red as she shrugs and swishes her wine. "Means I could sleep in."

The others ignored her, continue to stare at you as if you had just claimed you laid with an Alpha.

“That’s...” Lou exhales. “That’s not something he just lets happen, there's gotta be more to it.”

"Let's naw sit here and act like I'm making fibs yeah? The day I start makin' stories up over dick is the day I walk out of these walls and join the infected, Jesus Christ," You say a little more forcibly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You well and truly hated being back in this room. "We fucked, I was on top, he let it happen, that's it, nothin' else to it."

They erupted all at once, questions, disbelief, envy barely disguised as laughter, curiosity on how you managed such a task.

Before you could answer any of it, the room shifted again.

Jimmy Crystal appeared in the doorway, a large smile on his face as if he had heard every little word from his wives mouths. His eyes went straight to you, lighting up in a way that made several wives go quiet immediately.

“You're back,” he said, already crossing the room. "Huh, no one told me, ye been here long Angel?"

His hands settled on your shoulders from behind like clockwork, thumbs pressing warmly, familiarly. He looks for a moment, eyes darting all over to see if there were any injuries sustained whilst out.

Your head shakes in response, the empty cup resting between your thighs as you looked up at the man in charge.

Jimmy leans down until his mouth was near your ear. “My room tonight?” He murmured. “I've found myself missin' you a fair bit 'n think we're due for a catch up... Don't ye think?”

You frowned slightly, tilting your head back to look at him. You couldn't deny the way he looked at you like you were the only woman in the room. He was doing it again. "But I'm not scheduled, y'know that."

He was getting lazy.

Desperate.

Before he could answer, Elsie piped up brightly from where she sat on the carpeted floor. “Aren’t I supposed to be seeing you tonight?”

Jimmy didn’t even look at her, his eyes still locked onto yours from where you sit below him.

He clicked his tongue once, sharp, dismissive, his attention never snapping away. “No,” He said plainly. “I’ll be seeing you tonight, if ye will have me?”

The room went very quiet.

If you will have me.

Elsie’s smile faltered, confusion flashing across her face before she masked it. The others exchanged looks, some sympathetic, some openly resentful.

Jimmy’s grip on your shoulders tightened just a fraction, not painful, but unmistakably possessive now, as if there was a hint of fear that you'd refuse him, deny his touch.

“You don’t mind,” He added softly, more statement than question. “Do you? We don't gotta do anythin' ye don't want too, I just want to see you, yes? Have a wee chat."

All eyes were on you.

You felt the collective temperature in the room drop twenty degrees.

The resentment from the others was like a physical weight, but Jimmy seemed oblivious to everything but you. You looked at Elsie’s heartbroken expression and then back to Jimmy’s expectant one.

"Okay, yeah... Sure Jimmy," You said softly. "I'll be there."

Jimmy beamed, a bright, boyish grin that looked strange on a man who ran a cult. He leaned down, defying his own unspoken rule again about locking lips, and pressed a firm lingering peck to your dark red lips.

As he pulled away, his brow furrowed for a fraction of a second. He smacked his lips slightly, tasting the bitter, herbaceous tang of your tea.

He looked at the mug in your hand, then back at you, but the question died in his throat. Whatever it was, he didn't care enough to ruin the mood.

"Bye bye now." He spun on his heel and marched out with a last lingering look to where you sat, his stride jaunty.

The room exploded the second the door clicked shut.

"Oh and we're kissing now?" Lou shrieked. "When did that start? What the fuck?"

"On the mouth." Isobel chimed in, like she needed to clarify the heinous act.

"I told you," You said, feeling a headache forming at the unnecessary bickering. None of this was your fault. "Your guess is as good as mine." You turned to Elsie, who just sat looking lost. "Elsie love, I’m so sorry, I didn't ask for this, you gotta know that right?"

Elsie didn't answer, she didn't even look at you. She just stood up, gathered her glass of wine and walked out without a word towards what you assumed was her bedroom.

Blair, still sprawled in her armchair just snorted. "I'd kiss ye too if ye had me screaming like that the other night."

It made your lips quirk just ever so slightly, but you couldn't help the unease that lingered.

-

By the time you admitted it to yourself, it had already been happening for weeks, months even.

Jimmy was in love with you. This was no longer obsession.

Not the theatrical kind he performed for the others, grand gestures, loud laughter, devotion like a spectacle, but something quieter and more dangerous.

He brought gifts to your door himself now.

Not sent, not delivered by another Jimmy.

New trainers on your bed. Books he had read that he thought you’d like. Various little knickknacks for your bedroom.

And then the ring.

Not a loop hanging from a chain like the others wore, symbolic, interchangeable, easily removed like a branded collar. This one was solid gold like the ones on his own fingers. Thin at the edges, sized just for your finger.

“It's just a little somethin," He had shrugged like it was something casual. "Worried the one around ye neck might break off out there."

You didn’t argue, arguing had never been your style - and truthfully, you were starting to enjoy his company more and more.

Out in the world, nothing changed.

You found yourself spending more time with Blair too.

She was the only one who didn't look at you like you were some usurper. The two of you were sitting beside each other in the common room, sharing a pre outbreak magazine while you sipped your herbal tea.

"We're going to run out of carrot seeds if he keeps summoning you every six hours," Blair remarked, not looking up from a picture of 90's handbag. "When did he start finishin' inside?"

You paused, the mug halfway to your lips. "You know what this is?"

"I used to help Mags make it before I became a wife," Blair smirked, finally looking at you. "I know the smell of a 'I’m not having a baby' tea anywhere, nae bother, secret's safe with me... though I think it'd be cute to have a babe around."

"Yeah that's... not happening - I just don't understand it all,'" You murmured, head resting on her shoulder. "I didn't ask for this, I don't want the others hating me over this shite."

"Don't even worry 'bout them," She says flatly. "They're just scared they might have to actually scrub a floor, JImmy's just a meal ticket at the end of the day when ye think about it," She flips a page. "No offence, he's losing his mind over ye and they're losing their privileges,"

It was more food for thought, and you nestled in further to her side, your eyes no longer reading the paper.

"They're not actually scared of losing him, they're scared of losing the lifestyle. Fear makes people stupid and makes people do stupid things, like marrying a blonde."

You both laughed at her words.

How right she was.

-

More weeks passed.

Jimmy stopped pretending to rotate nights evenly.

Stopped his little visits in the common room all together.

He sought you out every chance he could between watches, after runs, sometimes just to sit and talk while the rest of the building buzzed without him.

Meals in his room became routine. Breakfast's, lunch and dinners. Moments that blurred together until the 'schedule' started to feel like a real relationship had well and truly formed.

He even started spending time with you in your room, leaving pieces of his clothing and jewellery any chance he could.

The others noticed, everyone did. They felt the change in the air when ever you were around, how his mood would lift instantly.

Jimmy smiled more, not grinned.

They all noticed the way he no longer looked at the other women the same. The way his attention snapped back to you whenever you entered a room even for just a second.

And you noticed the tea disappearing faster.

You drank it more often now, swallowing the bitterness without ceremony, careful and quiet about it. A necessary precaution.

He was becoming messy, keeping your legs locked tight around him every time he came, keeping your eyes trained on him as he filled you every way he could.

You found your mind was going foggy around Jimmy, that you were actually finding yourself falling for him - if that was even the right term. Love wasn't an emotion that came often in this world.

It was just clear that it wasn't desire anymore.

Just, you felt full of him in more ways than one. Full of a sharp heat and ache and the need to be with him even when sex wasn't involved.

Jimmy had you on your back in the planning room, maps and other objects thrown lazily to the floor in a heap as he buried his head between your legs.

He called you in under the guise of planning another raid - but had locked the door behind you within seconds.

You knew you weren't going to be making any new routines.

He had spread your legs wide, your dress bunched up around your waist to reveal the soft panties beneath. You thought he would just peel them to the side, tug them down to join the other items on the floor, but he left them swinging around one of your ankles instead.

He groaned, breathing shallow, jaw tight like you had just awakened something in him.

Jimmy never went down on a wife, never let them feel his lips in places he deemed worthy, but as he murmured to himself about how pretty your pussy looked like this, he couldn't think of anything else he'd rather be doing.

"All mine," He continued to murmur, kneeling between your spread thighs, so close you could feel his breath against your cunt. “Such a gift."

He licked a long wet stripe from your leaking hole to your clit, and the moan you let out was enough to have you biting into your hand. His thumb swipes over your folds, opening you up like a flower.

A low sigh in delight leaves his lips. "Heaven."

His lips wrap around your clit, sucking and licking as two fingers slowly fill you, burying to the brim and curling inwards.

It didn't take you long to cum, and Jimmy was more than pleased with himself at the way your legs shook around his head, your fingers gripping his hair and tiara, gripping anything you could gain leverage on.

He just wiped his lips with the back of his hand, pressing a kiss to your knee before helping you fix your dress.

You expected him to ask for the favour to be reciprocated, but instead he just rearranged his pants, helped you to your feet and pet you on the behind, sending you on your merry way like you hadn’t just soaked his face.

-

The power dynamic in the gymnasium had shifted so subtly. It was unnoticeable to most, but you had recognised it almost instantly.

While the majority of the other wives spent their days trapped in a cycle of crude words for you and red wine, you were still out in the mud and running with the infected.

You were still undergoing raids, killing runners and raiders left right and centre. Still took night watches, still laughed and bled alongside the other Jimmy's who trusted you implicitly now.

They deferred when you planned, followed your orders beyond the walls, listened when you instructed which raider got strung up first.

You found yourself actually enjoying it. Not the attention, but the idea of being able to keep those you cared about safe.

A leader, whether Jimmy intended it or not.

You had become more than a wife, you were the bridge between the eccentric king and the soldiers who kept him and your home alive.

In the bedroom, his desire turned into a frantic need to please you. His usual cocky demeanour would be abandoned at the door, leaving behind a man scared that you would leave him at any moment.

Sir Jimmy Crystal, a man who once demanded absolute service, was now spending hours between your legs, his blonde hair a mess, his gold necklaces clinking against your thighs as he worked to find new ways to make you lose that cool, collected composure of yours.

Your back was pressed against Jimmy's chest as you sat in his lap, the two of you watching an old movie on the tv he had in his room. He wore just his tracksuit pants and his white vest, you wearing a baggy shirt you had found in his closet.

His hands rest on your stomach, fingers running idle over the bare flesh under his shirt. It was uncharacteristically domestic, comfortable in a way you weren't used too.

"Been thinkin'," He mumbles in your ear, the low sound causing you to shiver. "I've been finding myself in a bit of a bind, you've been going out more," Jimmy's voice trails off as he tries to think of a way to speak his thoughts. "You've done enough for this place, yes? And I don't like how I feel when you're not 'ere."

He runs a hand over your waist, his thumb lingering near your hip. "So I want ye to stop, no more runs, no more raids, I want you 'ere with me, where it's safe, where I can keep an eye on you."

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a hopeful whisper. "We've been spending so much time together. Surely... surely nature is taking it's course hm? You’re probably carrying me already, gotta be - The Lord knows I've been trying."

Your eyes widen at his words, immediately shaking your head. You knew the tea was working through your system and doing it's job. Cramps had riddled your stomach and lower back for the better half of the week, and you knew your period was just around the corner.

"No Jimmy, you know I like what we have going on - believe me, I really do," You say softly, resting your hands over his.

“But I'm sorry, I don't see myself stoppin' any time soon. I've told you, being out there keeps me sane - but if I stayed in here all day? I'd go proper mad."

"But in your state-" "I'm naw pregnant Jimmy," You cut him off, turning your head so you could see him properly. His jaw was tightened, blue eyes locked on your stomach. "I know I'm not, so that's no reason to keep me locked up in here."

He hated this.

He hated even more that his utter devotion to you wasn't enough to stay by his side 24/7.

"But ye could be," He argued again, sounding almost defeated. "Been filling you up everyday, never felt like the others were worthy of something so special y'know, but you? You've already got a piece of me, I know you're worthy f'more."

He wasn't talking to you as he spoke, but your belly. His eyes were locked tight on your stomach as he continued running his hands over the skin, your shirt bunched just under your breasts. "Pretty mama."

He whispered the last part, and it was almost enough to make you feel guilty about the tea.

Almost.

"You're the only person in this world who would choose to go out there over a warm bed," He muttered as he shakes himself from his thoughts. He sighs, pulling your forehead to his lips in a frustrated kiss. "Makes me wanna lock the doors 'n never let you out."

"But ye wouldn't," You whispered against him. "Because then I would hate you, and you're far too obsessed with making me love you to risk that."

Jimmy let out a sharp, self deprecating laugh, his grip on you tightening. "Wrapped around ye finger aren’t I? Should be wearing my crown instead eh?" He was back to his usual self almost instantly, using humour to cover his disappointment. You didn't miss the way his eyes constantly dart between your stomach and breasts. "I just want you safe."

“I am,” You replied, resting your head further into the junction between his shoulder and neck. “Out there with them, I’ve never been safer until I found you all.”

That truth unsettled him more than anything else you’d ever said.

Because love, he was learning, didn’t always come with surrender he was used too and you had never once pretended you were his to keep.

Even as you found yourself loving him as each days passed.

-

You woke to a harsh knock on your bedroom door that was anything but gentle. It startled you instantly, hand reaching for a weapon that wasn't there.

“Feral, hey,” Jimmy Ink whispers, already halfway into your room like urgency had pushed her through the door. Her face looked pale in the low light. “Ye need to get up, now. Something's going on."

She looks around the room as if someone was going to jump out, your eyes instantly find the knife in her hand, out and ready. She bounces around your room, waiting for you to get up as she checks every little door.

Your first thought was a raid. A breach. Something going wrong beyond the walls or in the outposts. "What is it? Ink? What the hells going on?"

You pulled on the nearest thing, a baggy shirt that still smelt faintly of Jimmy, a huff leaving your lips as she grabs your hand and brings you barefoot through the corridors.

The building felt wrong at this hour. Too awake. Too loud where it should’ve been quiet.

"Ink?"

"You need to be here for this, he owes you that," You didn't know what she meant, but followed her all the same, watching as the grip on her knife didn't lessen. "We don't know if they actually convinced anyone yet, s’not safe.”

You felt lost in your own home.

The cold tile of the gymnasium floor bit into your bare soles as you stepped into the main hall. The air was thick, not with the smell of faint chlorine or wax, but with a sharp, electric tension that made the hair on your arms stand up.

Jimmy Ink, your friend and near sister in arms looked scared.

Scared for you.

Jimmy sat on his bright yellow throne, Jimmy's of all ages standing around him in their riot of colour, a living mural of loyalty.

When he saw you, he looked almost pleased. You weren't supposed to be awake, but he couldn't help but nod at Ink regardless.

"Angel," He breathed. The moment his eyes landed on you barefoot and in one of his shirts, his expression whilst wild, softened into something disturbingly tender. "Come 'ere, up here with me."

You walked forward, your heart hammering against your ribs. Your eyes lose Jimmy for a second, turning to see a different sight entirely.

Josie.

Lou.

Elsie.

Isobel.

They stood clustered together at the bottom of the drained pool in the centre of the room, shaking, faces streaked with tears.

Behind them, the Jim­my's, your friends - Jimmy Jimmy, Jimmy Shite, Jimmy Fox, Jimmy Jones, stood watchful and grim, various weapons in hand.

Your walk continued as you spotted Blair perched on the edge of the pool, hands braced behind her as her legs swung back and forth, a dull and almost bored expression.

“What is going on?” You ask for what felt like the fifth time, your voice coming out quieter than you meant.

For the first time in awhile, fear threaded itself sharp and fast through your chest.

Jimmy laughed softly, delighted, and gestured for you again. He pulls you onto his lap the moment you had reached the steps towards him.

One of his large hands spread across your stomach, a possessive, protective gesture, while the other began to stroke your hair, twisting a lock around his finger.

"Jimmy? Talk to me,” You ask again with more urgency, your voice steady despite the adrenaline. "Why are they in the pool?"

Jimmy let out a low, melodic laugh, leaning his head against yours. "Quite the story actually. Sweet Blair came to me tonight with a rather interesting tale," He clicks his tongue, eye twitching. "Your lovely sisters here felt you were becoming... a bit of a problem."

The scene felt like a bizarre tableau of power and terror. The light from the overhead floodlights hit his dark expression, casting dancing glimmers across the walls. Below him, the empty, deep end of the swimming pool served as a makeshift pit that was only used for one thing.

Death.

Blair didn’t look at you, her eyes trained on the women she had turned in. Just continuously swinging her legs as she sighed.

“She said these girls," He nodded toward the pool as he nuzzles his nose against your head. "Had a plan, that you had to go. Hurt, maimed, killed even, who knows exactly - they won't talk,”

A sob broke from someone below.

Jimmy tilted his head, amused at the sound. "Was already planning on retiring them y'know? I only need you - I know that now, but I cannae have them around knowing they want my future gone, can I?"

He squeezes your stomach at this, voice dropping to a hiss. "Cannae have them touching what's mine, my bride, my pretty little mama."

Jimmy looks back at you, his eyes wide and shimmering with a terrifying, obsessive devotion as he watches you process everything.

You knew the others were upset at the way things had changed, but you didn't think they'd stoop so low.

Murder?

Most of them hadn't even been outside the walls since the virus broke out, yet they wanted to discard you like you were nothing.

But you knew Blair wouldn’t lie about such a thing, the woman had started seeing Jimmy Shite in secret and was already starting to join on supply runs.

Her time as a wife was over, and she was more than happy and willing - she had nothing to lose by protecting you.

"They’re yours now," He whispers, loud enough for the weeping women in the pit to hear. "I’ve given them to you. Your friends are waiting, we can... Cast them out, hell - have 'em kill each other, or..." He trailed his fingers down to your throat.

"Shall we let our friends deal with them? We can make sure they never breathe the same air as you again."

The hall fell into a deathly silence. Even the Jimmy's seemed to hold their breath.

In the pit, Josie looked up, her face a mask of snot and tears, her eyes pleading with you, the woman she had spent weeks plotting against unbeknownst to you.

You felt lost for words.

Death was nothing to you, but never had you been the centre of attention like this. Never had you been the one to plan an execution of people you knew.

Jimmy leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he sees you hesitate. "Tell me, my clever, brave girl. What should we do with them? It's your choice. Your word is law tonight," He kisses your temple, affectionate, trusting. "Either way, they all will be dying tonight, one way or another."

He was testing you.

More sobs echo through the empty pool, Lou screaming about how it was all Josie's idea, Isobel nodding in quick agreement as the brunette tried to plead her case.

"Oh shut it, you lot have been plannin' this shite for weeks," Blair pipes up from her spot in the front row. "Ye wanted to push her from a watch tower, don't act dense now."

More swears are thrown the gingers way as you see the way Jimmy Jones squeezes their bat from behind Lou. They were eager. They were hungry.

You were kind. Their friend. Their family.

Every eye in the room turned to you.

Still the words escape you, and you sit upright in Jimmy's lap, knowing there was only one choice.

"A cast out will just bring infected near us, they’ll be loud.” You murmur, just low enough for Jimmy to hear.

He nods as he listens to your judgement. You felt the shock of the betrayal leaving by the second, replacing with a burning anger.

"Aye, it would," He agrees, continuing to run his nose against your head, inhaling your scent like you weren't currently playing executioner. "Ye could do it yerself if ye like? I know ye like getting your hands dirty. Maybe we watch them kill each other, have 'em put on a show."

Truthfully, the thought did cross your mind. But you knew you were being clouded by the deception and hurt.

"Mercy," You managed to say through gritted teeth, head turning to your husband whose eyebrows furrowed at your words. "Naw like that, get the Jimmy's to do it, quick and thorough."

JImmy's mouth frowns at your choice, but he knew he did say you could decide. He's about to speak when you cut him off again.

"Wait," You peer down, calling out Blair's name. She looks instantly, still looking bored despite her whistleblowing. "Who... Who started all of this?"

Her head peers back down, eyes trained solely on Josie. "Little love here, wanted Shite to fuck up yer tea."

Shite nods at her words, looking between his woman sitting on the pools edge before back to the cowering women in front of him.

"Huh..." You huffed, and you sink further into Jimmy's lap, fury glazed over your eyes as your fists clench. "Then they can make it hurt for her then, make it quick for the rest."

Screams echoed through the hall as the Jimmy's all raise their weapons, blood splattering through the empty pool as you watched from your position on Jimmy's throne.

He just beamed from beneath you, hand playing in your hair as he murmured how he had made the right choice with you.

Your eyes never left the scene in front of you, Jimmy laughing and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you watch the chaos beneath.

“You’re gonna stop drinking that tea of yours too,” He groans softly, rubbing himself against your behind as the screams came now from just one woman’s mouth.

They let Josie suffer, true to your order.

The Jimmy’s took their turns with their weapons as the others quietened down. “You’re gonna stop, and I’m gonna make sure it takes, s’that alright?”

Your attention was stuck too much on the carnage, fists clenched, jaw tight as you didn’t blink.

The other Jimmy’s all grinned from where they stood, some standing with streaks and splatter of blood on their suits.

“Mm, don't fret,” Jimmy pressed another kiss to your neck, pressing you even further into him.

“Gonna make sure you’re full of me, feeling me leak everyday until you’re carrying me everywhere,” He groans again, murmuring more dirty thoughts as if you both hadn’t just ordered the death and torture of a group of women you lived with merely metres from you.

-

You feel it before you see it, the flutter.

It's small. Gentle. Like light touches brushing against the inside of your stomach. You press your palm against the warmth beneath your jumper, just below your ribs, and hold your breath.

There it is again. A little ripple.

It's not exactly a kick, but it's a feeling, a reminder of the life hiding in there. The doctor called it 'quickening', you called it butterflies.

You’re nearly five months now. Nearly halfway.

The wind outside your bedroom window howls like something rough. It’s always like that up here, the Highlands whispering things you'd rather forget. But the compound holds stronger than anything you had ever lived in.

The walls of corrugated scrap and wire might not look like much, but they’re solid. Strong. Safe. Had been standing since the beginning.

Infected couldn't get in. That's all that mattered.

You exhale slowly, breath fogging the cold glass. Somewhere out in the yard, kids are laughing, high and sharp. The kind of laughter you didn’t think you’d find again when you left him.

There’s smoke rising from the kitchens, chimneys lining the grounds and holding other survivors.

You should be content.

Most days, you are.

You had lied your way into this place three months ago. With cracked lips and a story about a cottage out west that had been overrun with infected. You told them your husband held the door shut while you climbed out a back window.

That he screamed for you to run and he never made it out. That you had to leave the love of your life behind so you and your unborn baby could live.

They believed you in seconds.

They took you in and made you one of them like it was nothing.

When they found out you were pregnant, they didn’t ask questions, didn't ridicule you or cast you out.

No, they brought you to their doctor - a real one, Dr Fern, grey haired and gentle, with hands that knew how to find that little heartbeat inside you.

But some nights, like tonight - the lie feels heavier than the truth ever did.

You reach under your collar and touch a small ring hanging from a leather cord. Cold metal. Gold. You close your fist around it.

Jimmy’s ring.

It was the only thing that belonged to him that you brought with you, the only gift of his that you wanted to keep.

You see him sometimes in your dreams, grinning wide, tiara crooked on that perfect blonde hair. His purple suit soaked in blood, arms outstretched like some deranged messiah.

And yet, you had loved him.

Still do, in a quiet now unspoken way.

You miss his warmth.

When he'd hold you like you were the only person he needed, and at the end of the day when it was just you and your dysfunctional family together in this mad world.

His sweet nothings in your ear, his protection, his guidance.

But then came Spike. Then came Shite's execution.

"I'm not letting anyone tear what we've all worked so hard to create. We're building something good here, can't go changing things now."

And Fox had obeyed with a grin, slicing into his brother like it was nothing.

Regret had oozed it's way into your soul in the first few weeks, but you got over it when you realised you truly had no other choice.

You just never expected to make it this far.

You were adamant an infected would've gotten to you first, or worse - Jimmy. But you had managed for the first month, running from place to place, hiding where you could and taking down infected when needed.

"Dinner's ready now honey bunny," Someone breaks your thoughts, and you turn your head, seeing a friendly face. It was one of the ladies from the compound who worked in the supply section, Ange. "Wanna walk w'me?"

"I'd love too," You answer, swinging off your chair with a huff. You were still getting used to walking around now with the extra weight, knowing it was only going to get worse.

Already your feet would swell, your lower back screaming alongside it. "Gotta get there before Henry does, old mate might eat our plates."

The older woman snorts, nodding her agreements. She guides you out of your room, an old office building turned into individual bedrooms.

You make small talk along the way, making mention of your job for the day. They were kind when it came to your condition, and you found yourself sorting through supplies with a few of the older generations to keep off your swollen feet.

Unbeknownst to you, Jimmy Jimmy lies belly flat in the dirt behind a half rotted log, his breath shallow, his fingers raw from the cold.

Pine needles bite into his palms. His ribs ache. He’s been tracking leads for days, hoping from compound to compound.

But now, there you are.

Walking past a garden, talking with a strange woman. Your hair is longer. Your clothes are plain, a large grey hoodie, loose cargo pants, boots caked in mud.

No tracksuit. No gold.

You don’t look like a Jimmy anymore.

You look happy.

That’s what stings the most.

Jimmy Jimmy doesn’t clock the curve of your belly beneath the hoodie, doesn’t notice the way you move more carefully now, the way your hand drifts to rest just above your waistband when you stand still.

All he sees is you, whole and breathing and not dead, not like Jimmy Snake kept saying you probably were.

He watches until you vanish inside one of the buildings, laughter rising behind you, doors swinging open, warm light spilling into the dusk.

Then he starts walking with a grin. His mission successful.

Sir Jimmy would be pleased.

-

The moment he makes it back to your real base, Jimmy Jimmy nearly drops to his knees. It's been days of straight trekking, beelining for home in order to break the news.

Jimmy had been a wreck since you left. More compounds and safe havens had suffered greatly, tied up and carved with your name pressed into their bellies instead of his, before they were swiftly burnt to the ground.

He was losing it. Barely any sleep, barely any words murmured to the others. You were a loss he didn't see coming. The Jimmies were struggling under his rule as well, running a muck along the country side in just a mere hope they'd find you.

Ink stayed quiet the entire time, trying to steer them clear of the direction she had seen you leave in. But it wasn't enough, no stone was to be left unturned.

If a compound was found, it would be raided. If there was a chance they were harbouring his property, he couldn't risk not looking.

Jimmy Jimmy is tired, wind burned, streaked in mud. The others rest around the theatre, eagerly awaiting his words.

But it’s the man on the stage, sitting on a makeshift throne who lifts a hand.

"You're back early."

It's not a question, it's an accusation. He's waiting, wondering why Jimmy Jimmy wasn't still out. Everyone was expecting him back next week.

The younger man looks up, grinning from ear to ear despite the trembling in his knees.

“I found her,” He beams, attempting to catch his breath. "She's alive and she,” He wheezed again. “She looks well."

The theatre is silent.

Then a sound like a breath and a prayer all at once, a sharp, joyous inhale through clenched teeth. Jimmima claps her hands as Jimmy Jones breathes a sigh of relief.

Jimmy rises.

The necklaces against his dark purple suit shimmer like a beetle’s shell in the low light. The tiara on his head is bent slightly to the left. The upside down crucifix looks even bigger somehow.

“Where? You're sure?”

“East,” Jimmy Jimmy nods, his voice hoarse. “Forestry compound, couple days out if we don't make stops. I couldn't see much from afar - but it's definitely her, I swear it Sir."

He doesn’t continue. The look on his leaders face says enough for everyone.

Relief, excitement, fury - it all blends together.

“Pack up,” Jimmy says, turning to the others. “We’re leaving tonight.”

Ink smiles despite the hesitation behind her eyes. Jones cracks their knuckles. Jimmy Fox whispers something to Jimmy Snake that makes both of them laugh.

“She’ll probably run,” Jimmy Fox adds, tone unreadable. “If she sees us -”

“She won’t,” Jimmy interrupts, too softly. “She won’t even see us coming.”

His delight was enough to boost everyone's morale.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you were found. You were just days away, and Jimmy knew that when he had you back in his arms, he wasn't going to let you go again.

Whether you were chained to your bed or to him, there wouldn't be a moment where his eyes wouldn't be on you.

Jimmy's eyes crinkled as he huffs out a laugh, watching as everyone makes their way around the theatre. Weapons lay on the stage, chatter and giggles echoing all over.

You were coming home.

-

A fire crackles low. A circle of tired faces glowing orange in the dark.

You sit with your legs pulled up, arms wrapped around your knees, the blanket someone had given you draped over your shoulders. Beneath it, baggy pyjamas and some muddy boots. It was a nightly routine now.

The air smells like smoke, pine and damp earth. The sky’s a black sheet of stars overhead. The wind has died down.

Some had already gone to bed, those on watch stood at their posts, others like yourself sat in a ring, talking amongst each other.

Across from you, Elder Rae is smoking one of her horrible hand rolled cigarettes, squinting against the smoke curling into her eyes.

You don't know what she was smoking, or what herb it was, but it's enough to make everyone grimace at the scent. Her voice is thick, born long before the outbreak, hair long and braided in parts.

“Another compound up north got hit.” She mutters, exhaling slow.

A few heads lift. Yours included.

“Another? Where?” Someone asks.

“Near the old Tesco depot, just outside Fort Augustus,” She answers, shaking her head at the reveal. "Had a good trade set up with them, haven't heard from them in a wee while."

“Shit,” Another one murmurs from beside you, Brodie, a wiry man with crooked teeth and a machete always strapped to his thigh. “That’s not even a weeks way up the road.”

You stay quiet.

“They leave anyone alive?” Someone else asks, one of the younger girls.

Rae shakes her head. “Two survivors, both torn up pretty bad. Said it weren’t infected though, said it were people, they reckon raiders. Butchering folk like pigs, strung most of 'em up and burned the rest.”

You feel the skin on the back of your neck prickle.

“They say what they looked like?” You ask before you can stop yourself, pulling the blanket tighter over your shoulders as someone hands you a mug of something hot.

Rae shrugs. "Masks, something about wigs, same story as the southbound compound that got hit last month."

Laughter bubbles up from one of the older ones. “What? Wigs? Like fuckin' drag queens?”

You didn't know what that meant, and you keep your eyes trained on Rae as she speaks.

She doesn’t laugh at the older mans quip either. “They didn't even take supplies, least not the shite ye think a raider would take."

You taste iron in your mouth. Bite your tongue before your thoughts can slip out through your teeth.

It didn't take you long to figure it out. Your Jimmy would never let anyone leave, especially not leave him. You knew what he was looking for, why the 'raiders' weren't taking supplies.

You grip your mug tighter, trying not to shake. You haven’t said his name in months. Haven’t dared to speak of the Jimmies. The theatre. Him.

But now?

You can feel him everywhere.

Can almost hear him.

"Ye scared of me love? Think I'd hurt you?"

The others go quiet for a while. Someone tosses another log on the fire. Sparks drift upward like dying stars and you follow the small embers until they disappear into the night.

“Think they’ll come here?” A girl asks. Seventeen at most, born long after the virus hit.

Rae glances toward the large wall that separates us from the outside. “Eventually, yeah I do."

You swallow.

You should run, should leave again and give this place a chance.

But you can’t.

You're slower now. The baby makes your back ache and your feet swell, makes you vomit every second day. And this place, for all its creaking fences and tired faces, has something the theatre didn't.

A doctor.

You look at the people around you, their shadows dancing in the firelight. You don’t want them to burn for your past.

But you know that Jimmy will come for this place whether you're here or not.

Silence fills the air, just the low murmur of chatter from the walls and the crackling of the fire in the middle of your small group

No one knows that it was your family burning half the countryside, and you knew it would only be a matter of time before your beloved found you.

Found both of you.

-

They came for you just three days later.

He came for you.

Just as the sun began to set and the sky above the eastern compound bled orange.

At first, it was just distant smoke. But by dusk, the screams had started. The crackle of fire. The chaos. The pattern. You knew it too well, hell, you used to participate in it.

You didn’t need confirmation. Jimmy was here.

And he wasn’t charging in. He was waiting.

You’d heard his voice earlier, loud, clear, and patient as death, calling out to the compound from beyond the wall. Not barking orders. Not demanding surrender. Just speaking.

“You have something that belongs to me.”

The spotters were cut down first, colourful tracksuits climbing the walls and opening the main gate like it was muscle memory.

You’re hiding now, ducked behind a burned out truck, hoodie pulled low, heart a knot of fear and love and guilt. Around you, the compound trembled.

Some people still tried to fight. Others begged. But you knew the truth:

They were wasting time.

And you were the reason for all of it.

You couldn't run now. You couldn’t leave, not like this.

So you stepped out from your hiding spot, walking slowly towards the smoke and scattered screams. Others ran past you in the opposite direction, attempting to get to the safe zones put in place in case of infected.

Sir Jimmy Crystal stood just outside the compound walls, framed by firelight like some messiah. His arms were behind his back, eyes looking over the ruin in front of him as his Jimmies reaped havoc.

Blonde hair immaculate. Tracksuit nearly pristine. He hadn’t aged a day since you last saw him, still beautiful, terrifying, controlled.

Just tired.

He was alone at the front.

As you walked through the burning compound, you slowly pulled your hoodie down, seeing a blur of baby blue and red running towards you.

Ink and Jimmima stopped halfway, recognising you instantly. Jimmima beams, cat ears on her head with a splatter of blood on her cheek, Ink just looks at you apologetically, and you give her a low nod.

The other Jimmies - Snake, Jones, all of them, were scattered in the background, causing chaos or stringing people up, but Jimmy waited.

His eyes locked on you the moment you stepped into view.

A breath caught in his chest, his eyes wide and hands almost trembling. His head tilts, eyes looking you up and down for any sign of injury.

“There you are.”

His words came soft. Disbelieving. Reverent.

You didn’t run, nor did you speak.

You just stood there, hoodie pulled low over the curve of your stomach, arms at your sides.

Jimmy took a slow step forward. Then another, until he stood barely a metre from you.

“Look at you,” His voice cracked, just barely. “I thought maybe I’d made you up. Thought maybe I’d gone crazy missing you.”

You know he had and still you said nothing, keeping your eyes on him.

“But here you are... you, you ran from me.” Not an accusation. Just a fact.

“I did,” You murmur, voice strong despite the fear in your gut. "I had too."

His eyes narrowed, like he couldn’t understand. “Why? After everything we had, ye run off on me like a coward - abandon me like it was nothin'."

You swallowed hard, it wasn't nothing. It was one of the hardest things you had done. “Because I couldn't stay, not after everything that happened.”

He blinked at that. Then slowly his expression softened. Uncharacteristically gentle.

“I know I’m... a lot. I know I made some choices. Some of them... hard.” He glanced over your shoulder at the fire eating through the compound, then looked back at you. “But I would’ve done anything for you. Still would, still am.”

You could feel your heart breaking and repairing itself all at once.

“Ye need to call the Jimmies off," You plead, hearing more screams and laughter from behind. "These are good people Jimmy, they helped me - that has to mean something to you."

His eyes close with an inhale at hearing his name from your lips. “I provided you with everything, gave you everything - you expect me to just let this all pass?"

"So just take me home then, or kill me now - just... just let this place go."

Silence.

Then Jimmy stepped closer again, slower now, searching your face like he was trying to read a secret you were keeping. You kept your arms tight at your sides, willing the hoodie to stay loose, willing your body to obey.

“I looked for you every damn day y'know?” He whispers. “I sent Jimmies in all directions. We tore through half the damn country. I burned the places that lied to me, killed the ones who said they hadn’t seen you,”

His voice trembled. Not from anger. From something worse.

“Because I love you,” He nods to himself. "So much that it's painful, y'know how much it hurt wakin' up alone to your letter? Knowing how easy it was for you to run out on me?'

Tears welled in your eyes. “It wasn’t easy, far from it.”

He reached out, slowly, like you might vanish again if he moved too fast.

“Doesn’t matter now, you’re not safe out here. Look how easy it was for us to get in. This world, this place? It's not meant for you,” His fingers brushed yours. “But I am. I’m the only thing that ever kept you alive, kept ye going all these years.”

You let him touch your hand. Just for a second.

And it nearly destroyed you, his warmth burned.

“M'not gonna kill you,” It was like the mere idea pained him. “No, Christ I could never, not after all this. Can't say I didn't think about it the first week - though I think I just wanted you to hurt as much as I was hurting."

His voice had never sounded like that before.

Broken. Raw. Desperate.

You looked at him, the man you love, the man you feared, the man who would burn the world down just to find you.

And somewhere inside, behind the terror and the weight of what grew inside you, the smallest voice whispered:

He hasn’t seen the bump.

The silence between you stretched thick and endless, broken only by the distant crackle of fire and the groaning of half collapsed buildings.

Jimmy’s hands were still on yours. His eyes were soft, too soft, shining with something between relief and fever.

He smiled. Not wide, but intimate and familiar.

“We’re gonna' go home now.” His voice was light. Like it was a definite, he wasn’t asking. He was telling you.

You opened your mouth.

He cut you off.

“No, no. You don’t get a say this time, you don’t get to run off again,” He brushed your hair behind your ear, fingertips trailing down your cheek like he was memorising you all over again. “And when we're home, I’m gonna make sure you can't run off again - keep you locked in our room. Safe, just you and me.”

You stepped back a half inch, barely noticeable, but to Jimmy, it was a canyon. You couldn't leave, there was no medicine, no doctor, hell, there wasn't even anywhere you could give birth comfortably.

His hand snapped out, catching your wrist with a growl. “Watch it.”

You froze.

His smile returned, thinner now. “I’ll tie you to the bed if I have to, just for a little while at least. Until you remember who you belong to,” A beat, a murmur of your name. “You scared me so much my love, and I've come to realise that I don’t like feeling that way.”

His other hand came to rest on the back of your neck, drawing you forward roughly.

“You will be punished for that, I cannae have the others thinkin' you can hurt me and get away with it,” A whisper, almost tender. “But I’ll still love you through it, and you'll forgive me eventually.”

You tremble. You knew he wouldn't let it slide. His pride came before all else. His punishments would never be physical, but you knew he'd comfortably tie you to your bed or grant you the silent treatment for weeks.

At least that's what he used to do. You never minded the first punishment.

Probably how you ended up pregnant to begin with.

You weren't sure what his punishments would entail now, not after seeing what he did to Shite and the compounds around the highlands.

Before you could pull away, before you could brace yourself or make a run for it, he hugged you.

Tight. Like a man hugging a ghost he wasn’t sure was real.

And that’s when he felt it.

The shift.

The pressure of your stomach between you.

Jimmy went still. His arms froze around you, breath caught in his throat.

Then, slowly, he pulled back. Just enough to see your face, and then his eyes dropped.

To your hoodie. To the bump.

You swallowed, stepping back instinctively, but his hands were already on your shoulders, holding you in place and keeping you still.

He looks at the zipper, and the hands on your shoulder slide down until they reach the top of your hoodie.

And without a word, he drags the small zipper down.

Slowly. Like opening a gift. Or a casket.

The fabric parted and there it was, your swollen belly, unmistakable now that it was exposed. Covered by a soft vest, barely hidden under the fabric that was a size too small.

Jimmy’s gaze locked onto it.

Unblinking.

Darting between your belly and your evidently swollen breasts.

They returned to your belly as you shivered.

He was unmoving.

He says nothing for several seconds. The firelight danced in his eyes, his jaw twitching as he stays staring.

Then, quietly. "S'it mine?"

Another pause. You don't answer, you weren't sure how too. But he didn’t need you to, he did the math.

The distance and the time apart. The way you looked at him. He knew you wouldn’t have touched anyone else.

He knew.

Still, he looked up at you again, searching.

Needing to hear it anyway.

You nodded. "Of course it is."

Another beat.

Then, he exhaled, shaky and quiet, like something inside him had just collapsed and rebuilt before your eyes.

He looked down at your stomach again. His hands dropped from your shoulders, hovering in the air like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you.

“You’re carrying...” Soft. Disbelieving. "Me."

You opened your mouth to speak, to explain, but he shook his head slightly. His fingers finally touched your belly, just the tips. Barely grazing the curve of your fabric covered belly.

“Mine,” The word came out like a prayer. "Ye left and took a part of me with you," And then, with something dark and fierce behind his eyes, he looked up at you again. “You were gonna keep this from me?”

The grief in his voice was real. Deep. But so was the danger.

You could hardly breathe. Tears spilled freely now, hot on your cheeks as Jimmy’s hand stayed gently on your belly. His thumb ghosted over the fabric like he was afraid to press too hard, like you might vanish again if he moved wrong.

"You don't understand." You whisper, sniffling as it all hits you at once.

His eyes never left your stomach.

Not yet.

So you kept speaking, words tumbling out too fast, too thick.

"I didn’t tell you because… because I didn’t know how you’d take it. You never talked about things like this Jimmy, about babies or… or anything past the now. You always talked about the future, how others were slowing us down, how - how Shite had gotten sloppy,"

Now his gaze finally rose, eyes wide with something unreadable. You let the silence hang for a second. Then your voice broke again:

"I didn’t want us to come between the future you envisioned."

The words hung in the smoky air like glass about to shatter.

Jimmy just stood there, staring at you. And for a second, a rare, real second, he looked wrecked.

His hand stayed pressed against your stomach, but his posture had changed. His shoulders had dropped, eyes glassy, mouth slightly parted.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "You thought I’d see you as a liability?" His mind races with the note you had written him, and he quotes you himself. "I won't slow you down, I won't ruin your vision for the world."

You nodded through the tears.

He blinked slowly. Then shook his head, not in disbelief, but in grief.

"I did scare you." A breath. "That night I asked and ye lied to me, but I see it now - I made you think you weren’t safe with me, didn’t I? You thought I’d hurt you?”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

And then something shifted in his face, all the harsh lines melted, tension gone. His other hand came up, cupping the side of your face. His touch was featherlight.

He looked at you the way you remembered from before all of it, before the wigs, the indoctrination, the fear.

"There’s no future I want that doesn’t have you in it," He whispers, eyes stern. "You hear me? None. This all means nothing if you're not with me,"

Your heart twisted in your chest, because you believed him. Because he meant it. "M'so sorry dove, I'm sorry ye thought I would ever lay a hand on you, on them."

You placed your hand over his, pressing it gently into the roundness of your belly.

"Then let this place go," You said softly. You weren't even sure if there was much of this place left. "Please. There’s a doctor here. I need one, Jimmy. I won't... I can’t make it like this without their help."

He hesitated.

But then, slowly, for once, he agreed.

"Okay." His thumb brushed your cheek. "Alright, for you, just this once.”

You nearly collapsed with relief.

Jimmy whistles, loud enough for one to hear, loud enough for the next to whistle louder and call the others back. He's got you pulled into his side and your nuzzled into his side, arm wrapped around him.

He murmurs more apologies into your ear, hand on your stomach now in a possessive tender embrace.

Colourful characters start returning to the gate, relief filling you at seeing some parts of the compound still standing.

But that relief lasted only seconds.

A shout rings out, cackling following it as your blood turns to ice.

Jimmy Fox drags a body across the ash streaked courtyard with a rope tied around their feet.

Limp hands trail in the dirt behind them as blood seeps from their stomach.

A familiar coat.

Dr Fern.

Your knees buckled, nearly hitting the ground hard if it weren’t for the man beside you. A sob rips from your chest, raw and wild.

"No, no - Jimmy!" He struggles to keep you upright as you flail around, hand outstretched at the familiar face. “Fuck, no!”

Sir Jimmy’s head turned, slow and deliberate.

His face didn’t change. Not immediately.

But then he saw the body, the blood, and he flinched like someone had struck him. He figured it out quickly.

"Fox!" He barks. Jimmy Fox, still grinning, dropped the rope unceremoniously and shrugs, confused. The others look on, watching in content at you being found, but worried by your wailing.

“What’s the issue?” Fox calls out, going as far as to kick at the leg of the body by his feet.

Jimmy brings you to your knees, letting you down gently as he whispers into your ear. “The doctor?”

You just nod, unable to speak. It was rare finding anyone nowadays who could even stitch a wound, let alone someone from before the fall who was actually educated.

He was your only hope at a safe pregnancy.

Jimmy curses, jaw clenched. He couldn’t be mad, he was the one who told his Jimmies to carve up anyone who got in their way. But seeing you like this after months apart pained him something fierce.

Your cries shook your whole body as you curled over your belly, protective instinct kicking in even as everything felt like it was slipping from your hands.

"I’m dead," You choked out. "He was the only one who knew what,” A painful wheeze. “Knew what to do, he, he was the only, fucking, Jimmy he -“

Jimmy knelt in front of you, one hand cradling your head, the other gripping your back. He angles your face tenderly, guiding you to his eyes as tears pour down your cheeks.

"Hey, stop it, look at me," His voice was soft again, firm with certainty. “Naw the only one, we’ll find another."

You shook your head, trying to push him away. “Fucking where?” Your head falls back in another rough inhale of air. “You’ve burned half the highlands down, there’s no one left.”

He lifted your face, forcing you to look at him again through blurred, tear soaked vision.

"We will,” He urges, no room for fear. “I’ll find ye ten even, you’re naw going without."

You wanted to believe him.

But you couldn’t stop shaking, the last piece of safety you had was gone.

And all you had left was him.

-

You’re walking, back with them, back with him.

Your family.

You had left the compound and camped somewhere else for the night. Everyone was up and walking by sun up, eager to put distance between what remained of the eastern camp.

Jimmy’s hand is wrapped around yours, warm and firm, his thumb tracing slow little circles into your palm, like it’s a secret message only you two understand.

Every so often, his hand slips to your back, resting gently, protectively, just above your hips. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t rush.

True to his word, he left the remainder of the compound unscathed and left a handful of survivors.

With a threat that he would be back with hundreds more if any of them thought of tracking your group down.

They didn’t know that there was only a handful of you, but seeing as the damage was still extreme with just a small number, they didn’t want to risk anything further.

The others all surround you, weapons in hand, bags full of looted supplies, baby items and stolen medicine for you.

Jimmy wasn't angry anymore, he was ecstatic. He hadn't stopped touching you the entire walk, talking like you hadn't spent three months apart.

He spent the whole night with you wrapped in his sleeping bag, his chest pressed to your back, hand possessively gliding over your belly.

You love him, you never stopped loving him. But the guilt is a weight, one you can barely carry.

Not because you left, but because you brought death with you when you did.

You feel sick.

Dr Fern was dead. Jimmy Fox had striked his stomach like it was instinct.

And Jimmy… hadn’t even looked angry, not at first.

After consoling you the best he could, he had walked over to Fox, slowly, almost calmly, and whispered something in his ear that made the younger man stumble back like he’d been slapped.

Jimmy had spared the others, all because of you. Because of the baby.

His baby.

And now here you are. One foot in front of the other, marching across a broken land, loved by a man who kills people who disappoint him and then kisses your forehead like you’re the only reason the world is still turning.

You haven’t said a word since you left the compound.

Jimmy doesn’t force you either, he seems content to speak for you, to hold you when your tears start to fall again or a small sniffle leaves your nose.

The others all walk in their mismatched suits and wigs, smeared in blood and ash. They’re not talking either, not really. Not even Jimmy Snake, who usually won’t shut up.

They’re waiting to see how this plays out.

Maybe they’re scared too.

"I've redecorated our room," Jimmy mumbles, hand still holding yours as he helps you through some mud. "Might have to move things around again, make room for a cot, what'dya think?"

You just nod, not bothering to even think that far ahead. Chances are you won't make it that long. Pregnancy was hard as is nowadays with actual support, without intervention it felt damn near impossible.

Jimmy frowns, clearing his throat as he sees your expression.

Fear, dread, all of it.

He knows he's too blame, but he only feels half responsible.

If you hadn't left, this wouldn't have happened.

If you had just stayed with him, he wouldv'e looked after you, found a doctor sooner or later.

But he knows why you ran. Understood the fear you felt, especially after the ordeal with Jimmy Shite. He never meant for you to feel like you were expendable.

The others? Sure, but they weren't comparable to you. His other half, his love, his future, and now the mother of his child.

"Sir?" Ink pipes up from where she walks on Jimmy’s left.

He turns his head, blonde hair blowing in the breeze. He doesn't speak, just tilts his head with a silent 'go on.'

"When we get home - Jones and I could scout out again, start looking for a doc," She looks to you, seeing the blank expression but silent tears with a regretful frown. "Maybe send Jimmima and Snake out to look for more things too."

He nods, not wanting to leave you alone any more once you return to the theatre. His mouth opens to speak when you beat him to it.

"Nae bother," Your voice is sharp, mourning almost. "There won't be any, don't waste yer time."

"Love," Jimmy murmurs, stopping you both in your tracks. The others all stop too, forming a circle around you two as Jimmy turns you towards him. Your eyes are locked onto his chest, your breathing laboured. "Don't talk like that now - y'know I'll look after you right? Both of you."

His hand reaches down again, running along your sides. "Tell ye what, we'll have a rest here," He whistles lowly once without breaking his gaze, everyone reacting accordingly. Some walk further out to check for any threats, others stay close. "Have a seat, I've got ye."

It was a stark difference to his tone back at the compound. Gone was the Sir Jimmy who was threatening to chain you to the bed and punish you, but the man you had left behind three months ago.

The man you had fallen in love with.

"I'm fucked Jimmy," You whisper, finally meeting his gaze as another lone tear falls down your cheek. "There I had a chance, we had a chance," You point into the forest behind you, where there was still clouds of smoke peering over the tree line from the compound. "I've got nothing now."

Jimmy's face contorts in anguish, seeing you so defeated. "You have me, all of us," He brings his hands to your cheeks, wiping away your tears. "I'm not lettin' you go again, anywhere." You believed him.

Then you hear his voice.

"Sir Jimmy?"

It's Spike, the smallest of your bunch. Jimmy reluctantly turns away, looking towards the boy.

"Uh, I know a doctor.”

You blink, chest feeling heavy. You glance sideways.

Spike kept his eyes down, dragging a stick through the dirt as he avoids Jimmy's gaze. His dark blue tracksuit, Shite's, two sizes too big and streaked with dirt, but his voice is clear. Nervous, but strong.

Jimmy turns his head even more, his hand sliding down until it rests on your lower back. "A real one?"

Spike kicks at a stone. “Aye, from before this," He waves his hand around, signifying the end of the world. "Helped me and my mum, helped with... A baby we knew."

He seemed hesitant to bring up the last part, but it was enough for you to pike your interest.

You stand straighter, Jimmy noticing instantly.

“Where?” You ask, your voice hoarse.

Spike glances up at you, then at Jimmy, then back down again.

“West, way past the cathedral, in a uh,” The boy hesitates again. "Place made of bones - s'hard to explain but he's real, s'called Dr Kelson."

Jimmy raises his eyebrows, looking over at you like he’s just been handed a gift. “See?” He says softly. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

You don’t say anything. You just nod, slowly.

But inside, something stirs. A flicker of hope buried under the fear and anxiety and all the wrong kinds of love.

Maybe Spike just saved your baby’s life.

Maybe your life.

Jimmy's attitude flips completely, reaching forward to pat Spike on the shoulder before he pushes him towards Ink. He points to your friend in red. "You go tell her where," He pushes him a little rougher. "Go on now."

Spike nods eagerly, walking away from the two of you and towards Ink.

"You're going to be okay love," He repeats for what felt like the hundredth time, dragging his ringed fingers over your cheeks and down your neck. He feels the leather cord around your skin, pulling it out from where it hides under your vest. He beams at seeing his ring attached to the end. "I've missed ye so much, you've honestly got no idea."

You did have an idea. The bodies along the way was a clear indication.

You couldn't help the way you felt either, hope once again starting to blossom in your chest at the prospect of another doctor. You would only feel completely better upon seeing this Dr Kelson for yourself.

"I've missed you too," You utter, reaching out to rest your hands on Jimmy's chest. He continues to fiddle with his ring around your neck. You hadn't once given him an apology for leaving, and he didn't expect one either. "I love you."

He coos, revelling in hearing those words after so long. "I love you, and this one here," He runs one hand over your front again, even stopping just below your breasts. "And these too, should've noticed they looked bigger when I saw ye."

The hands on his chest bunch into fists as you push him away, but he laughs, pulling you back into his arms in a tight embrace.

It was as close as you two could be with the bump in the way.

Spike's words hang in the air, like sunlight breaking through heavy clouds.

A doctor. There might be a doctor.

You breathe again, like you've been underwater for days.

Jimmy is watching you. Not the usual way, not like you're his tiara that he’s polishing or a thing he owns. No, this time it’s softer. There’s a crease between his brows, like he’s trying to figure out how you feel before you even say it.

You pull away from the hug, your hand resting against your belly at feeling the quickening again.

Jimmy’s eyes drop to your hand, then back up to you. He steps closer once more. One arm slips gently around your waist, cautious, but not grabbing completely.

The other lifts to your jaw, fingers brushing your cheek like you might vanish if he presses too hard.

“I've got to make up for lost time now," He promises, and you peer up, seeing Jimmy properly for what felt like forever. Not your leader, not someone to fear, but your Jimmy. "M'sorry for everything, for scaring ye, the lot."

You believe him. And that scares you most of all.

Jimmy would burn everything down for you if need be.

You didn't speak, instead you just leaned your head forward.

Just slightly.

And he meets you there.

The kiss is warm. Familiar. But slower than it used to be. There's no audience, no showing off. No crowd of Jimmies' cheering in a ruined theatre. Just the smell of pine trees and earth, and the quiet ache of two people who still belong to each other in ways they shouldn’t.

His hand stays on your waist as he pulls back, forehead resting against yours.

“We’ll find that doctor,” he says softly. "I'll make sure of it, get that boy to lead the way."

You nod.

And together, you start walking again.

Side by side, fingers loosely intertwined.

Jimmy Ink runs up beside you, nudging you with her elbow as she smiles. "Missed you."

"I missed you too."

Ahead, Spike runs to catch up with Jimmy Snake, who places his arm over his shoulder before the two run ahead. Jimmima holds hands with Fox, the two behind you with their weapons in their other hands.

Fox was determined to apologise for what he had done, letting the blonde in baby blue tell him the best way to do it.

The others moved like shadows around you, suits flashing in the sunlight breaking through the clouds. A kaleidoscope of danger and devotion.

But for a moment, just one, it almost feels like peace, that there was a future with everyone you loved in it.

You're going home.

-

There’s a drip falling from above, the small drops of water landing somewhere in the orchestra pit again.

Slow, steady.

It was the only thing you could focus on. You can hear it clearer than anything else, even with the wind battering the boarded-up doors.

You sit at the edge of the stage, your tracksuit covered legs dangling above the faded red carpet below. The candles around you keep the room adequately lit, just enough for you to find your way around if need be.

The theatre’s quiet.

The Jimmies are all asleep in their own makeshift rooms. Some paired and curled up with each other, others alone in their own little corners.

Someone's snoring. Probably Snake, maybe even Jones - hard to tell when the two both could charge a generator with their sounds.

Jimmy, your Jimmy sleeps in your room, completely gone to the world. He always slept like the world outside wasn't in ruin, like his whole world couldn’t just change within seconds.

He had been on edge lately, not that he'd let anyone see it. The group had welcomed a newcomer, a little one named Spike - but the excitement had been cut short when Jimmy ordered the others to kill Jimmy Shite within minutes of Spike's initiation.

Fox had dealt the blow like it was nothing, like Shite wasn't one of his brothers in arms. Blood stained his skin like it was a christening.

And the way Jimmy looked at him that night?

Calm. Approving. Like it had made his day.

They gave Shite's wig and tracksuit to Spike, his body still warm - dumped outside like he had never even been a part of your family.

Jimmy had mentioned a few times to you about Shite's attitude, how he felt he was getting sloppy in his own way.

You thought he would just reprimand him.

Teach him a little lesson like he has done in the past with the others.

How wrong you were.

Your stomach turns. A new kind of sickness. Not the virus. Not fear.

You slide a hand to your lower belly, still flat beneath the fabric of your tracksuit. Five weeks, maybe six? You’re not sure.

You’re afraid to count too hard. Adding up the weeks would make it official.

Your period was late. It didn't take a genius to know what would come from having unprotected sex with Jimmy time and time again. He was so proud, too proud to admit that he hadn't pulled out in time.

He wasn't the only one to blame though. You should've been smarter.

More careful.

Jimmy arrives like he always does, as if summoned by your mere thoughts of him. Your hands are back into your lap.

His shoes are loud on the creaking floorboards. Long, even strides.

“Love,” He says, voice warm. A little hoarse from his little speech to the others earlier. “What are ye doin' out here?”

You glance up and smile. “Couldn't sleep.”

He crouches beside you, one arm looping around your waist within seconds. He always touches you like he owns you, which he does in a way.

Like you’re a part of him, his trophy, his prize, his person, all wrapped in one colourful outfit.

“Why is that?” He asks softly, nudging his nose into your hair as he inhales. “I've noticed you've been quiet.”

You lean into him without thinking. His warmth. His calm. His scent.

“Have I?” You muffle a yawn, nuzzle into his shoulder. "Haven't noticed."

He’s quiet himself for a second.

“Mm, it wouldn't have anythin' to do with that mess with Shite now would it?”

He knew.

He knew everything.

Well, almost everything.

You just shrug into his arms. "Maybe."

His knee brushes yours. "Didn't think ye liked him that much."

It wasn't accusatory or jealously - just an observation. You scoff lightly. “Of course I did, I like everyone here. They’re… we’re family. Besides, he made me laugh all the time, more than you.”

Jimmy snorts. "S'that why you're upset? Ye gonna miss his jokes?"

It was all so amusing to him.

He gives you a look - amused, loving.

Detached. "He was getting cocky, letting me down too many times."

"So he dies for it?"

"I told him to shape up love, we can't afford dead weight around here." He shrugs.

You look down at your hands as your jaw tightens.

"Ye think I wanted him gone?" Jimmy continues, leaning forward to chase your expression. "Think I liked makin' that order?"

You know he did.

You say nothing and he takes your silence as confirmation.

"Our survival isn't up for debate, we don't need people like that around," He says it like a preacher. A priest. A man who truly thinks he’s keeping you safe. "Doesn't matter. I loved him in my own way, like I love all of them, but it's done."

You turn your head to look at him properly. “Do you love me in that way too?”

He blinks. Surprised. “Hm?”

You pull the sleeves of the tracksuit over your hands.

“Do you love me the way you loved Shite?” A beat. "Enough to let me go too if I become a problem?"

Jimmy is quiet, staring down at you. The only sound being that drip from before and the wind outside. It felt like an answer in it's own way.

"You're not a problem." He says flatly.

"That's not what I asked."

He leans in closer again, searching your face for something. Anything that would explain why you're acting different. "Where is this really coming from?"

You look away, but he grabs your chin gently, making you look at him. His voice lowers. "You're nothing like them."

His word hangs in the air, sharp and final, like he was finished with the conversation.

You weren't. "But I am, you've made us this way, in your image. I am just like them, but what if one day I wasn't?"

Jimmy tuts. "Shite made mistakes. I warned him and he didn't listen, that's all there is to it. You need to stop hurtin' your pretty little head over all of this."

Your eyes close at his words. "I didn't want him to die, I don't want anymore of them to die - promise me that he'll be the last."

Jimmy's eyes flash, but only briefly. "I cannae promise you that love, I let him face the consequences, same as anyone here."

Same as anyone here.

Your hands instantly rest on your lap, guarding your still flat stomach without meaning to.

He notices the movement, but thankfully misreads it. "Ye scared of me love? Think I'd hurt you?"

"Never," You smile weakly, shaking your head. "Just... Fox didn't hesitate the other night, I guess it spooked me s'all."

He brushes your hair behind your ear, his ringed fingers lingering. "He's quick that one - it's good, means he's got what it takes to make it in this place."

Because murder means everything these days.

"I don't want to lose anyone else." You say again, trying to let the words sink in, trying to let them mean something to your partner.

"And you won't, not if they listen and pull their weight."

You feel the next words pull at your chest. There will come a time where you won't be able to pull your weight anymore. Already you find yourself feeling ill, hiding your morning issues under the guise of scouting the area with Ink.

He's never spoken about children with you. He only spoke of the future like it was something only he could bring forth. Spike was the youngest person that had ever joined your group, and even then Jimmy had surprised himself by allowing it.

"Hey," He brings your attention back to him with a murmur of your name. "I'm not letting anyone tear what we've all worked so hard to create, y'know that right? We're building something good here, can't go changing things now."

You just nod, squeezing your stomach a little tighter as Jimmy presses a kiss to your forehead.

You close your eyes as he nuzzles his stubble against your head.

You realise now that one way or another, you're a liability for future he envisions.

-

The theatre was silent when you slipped out through one of the side doors, the wood groaning softly behind you. Your face scrunched with nervousness, hoping the sound was drowned out by the wind.

The clothes you wore were now dull, a simple long sleeved tee under a black hoodie and pants, not the colours Jimmy liked on you by any means. You couldn't look like them anymore. You couldn't bring attention to yourself out there in the open.

A knife tucked into your boot. Back pack light. Rations for a few days if that. No more. Nothing that would weigh you down more than the sickness that you struggled to keep at bay.

On your bed beside Jimmy, you had left a note. The words were simple.

I won't slow you down, I won't ruin your vision for the world, I love you.

You didn’t say goodbye, nor do you apologise.

You didn't put the real reason. Well, you put half the truth. You couldn't tell him in just words that you were scared of what he was capable of, what he might do if he finds out about the life you're carrying.

You were through the back alley when a red figure dropped down from one of the fire exits in front of you, landing silent and startling you.

"Didn't think you'd actually bolt."

Ink.

Jimmy Ink stands tall in her red tracksuit stained with dirt, the boldest of the colours. Her blonde wig lazily clad on her head.

You relaxed visibly upon seeing her, hitching your bag further on your shoulders. "Inky-"

She holds her hands up in defence, cutting you off. "I'm not gonna talk you out of it, a few of us are jumpy after that stunt with Fox and Shite as well."

Ink was probably the only one you really trusted in your crew. You two had been partnered for months, scouring ruins for supplies and what not, watching each others backs like it was second nature.

She was the one to stumble across you throwing up during a run. You didn't need to explain. Most of you were synced up, and she knew you were yet to bleed.

"I can't stay here, we can't." You nod, and she knows you're not talking about the pair of you.

"I know," She sniffs, looking behind her to see if anyone or anything was lingering. "Don't blame you, though I don't think he'd hurt you of all people."

"That's a big risk to wait and find out though, isn't it?" Your voices were hushed, and she nods again.

The sun was just starting to rise, and Snake would no doubt be awake soon to take over watch from Ink.

"Where are you going to go?" She asks, digging into her pockets and pulling out a grain bar, handing it to you with an expression that told you she wasn’t taking no for an answer. "Here."

"I'm thinking East," You were truthful, knowing Ink would keep your word if need be. You take the food with a nod of thanks, pocketing it. "Head out past the blocks, see where we haven't hit yet."

Ink's head tilts as she thinks of your response. "Could work," She sighs, wondering where else you could head. "Hit the old train line, follow it down 'till you reach the big green."

You agree with a hum, and you both stand for a moment before she slowly lets go of her bat, letting it drop to the ground with a dull thud before pulling you into a hug.

Your arms wrap around each other, your heads resting against each other's shoulders as she speaks into your ear. "He'll realise quick - I'll steer ‘em north, say you've been speaking about home on our runs." Your head shakes, pulling out of her hug with a frown. "He'll know it's a lie, I hated that place, he'll t-" "He'll believe it because that's where your tracks lead," She nods like it was already true, hands on your shoulders as she sighs. "I can buy you a couple days, give you time to get away from here."

"Ink-" "Go, ye idiot," She pats your arm, urging you forward before she bends down to pick up her bat. "Look after yourself, and that... thing."

She's aiming her bat at your stomach as you flip her the bird, the two of you grinning at each other before you nod, making your way out of the alley with a small wave.

Your throat closes up as she returns the wave, and you fight the tears in your eyes.

You weren't just two survivors leaving each other, but sisters, two girls who had grown together in a world that usually chewed and spat women out like it was nothing.

-

The door to your bedroom slammed open so hard it cracked the frame.

Jimmy stood there, bare chested, barefoot, breathing like a rabid dog, the note clenched in one trembling fist. He shouts for everyone to wake up, for everyone to get the fuck out of whatever cranny they were hiding in.

His voice barely carried over the creak of the wind outside. But the theatre had gone still.

Jimmy had stalked towards your little makeup table, eyes scanning every inch. The jewellery he had given you was placed neatly on its rack, your tracksuit folded beside it.

The back pack you wore for runs was nowhere to be seen, your knife missing from it's drawer.

He smacks the counter before he makes his way out, walking down the corridor and onto the main stage.

He yells again, a word so incoherent as rage bubbled inside him. He knew you had been acting unusual with him. He knew you were afraid, even as you lied through your teeth.

That’s when the theatre erupted.

Boots on boards. Scrambling. Movement in every corridor. From the balcony above, Jimmy Jimmy leans down, scratching his head through his wig. "Sir?"

"She left me," Jimmy growled, voice tightening around the word left like it burned his tongue. He threw the crumpled note into the seats ahead. "Ran on out and left a fucking note."

The Jimmies gathered, Jimmy Fox, shirtless and wild eyed; Jimmima, already throwing on her tracksuit jacket, Jimmy Jones, rubbing sleep from their eyes and fixing their wig.

Snakes making his way in from outside after hearing the shouts.

Ink walks in last, chewing on a snack bar like this was just another morning briefing. "What's going on?"

Spike's the one to mutter to her your name, saying you had left the theatre and left Sir Jimmy.

Ink's eyes widen, choking on her food before she clears her throat. "Sorry? What? We're going after her right?" She asks, storming towards the stage where her leader stands in just his tracksuit pants and his gold necklaces.

A beat passed.

"Obviously," His fists clench, nodding as his eyes glaze over. "Everyone better be up and fuckin’ dressed in ten, we're leaving." "Where?" Jimmy Jimmy asks, his head still dangling over the balcony.

Jimmy's quiet for another moment, his fury clouding his judgement. He curses, looking to Ink for her judgement.

"She grew up north yeah?" She starts the lie as clean as possible, so smoothly that no one blinked. Jimmy nods at her. "Then north would make sense, people steer towards shit that's familiar."

Jimmy nods again, his finger wagging in her direction. "North," He begins to pace, muttering to himself now more than anything. "No one just leaves me. No one walks out on me, no one."

He's left the stage, no doubt heading back to your bedroom as Ink releases a shaky exhale.

Jimmy was pissed.

Seething.

The Jimmy's didn’t speak. They knew better than to comment on Jimmy's antics within ear distance.

When they heard your bedroom door slam, everyone visibly relaxed. "Maybe she's just on a run? Didn't tell anyone?" Jimmima speaks softly, now holding onto Jones arm.

Snake shakes his head. "Doubt it, she didn't head through the front."

Ink just stays silent, praying you've already made it a good distance.

-

Jimmy’s laugh was hollow, scraping against the walls of your shared bedroom as he throws his clothes on.

"After everything we've been building," He's zipping up his purple tracksuit, hands shaking in anger. "Ye just run away? Like a coward."

He laughs again. "Ruin my vision?" He snorts to himself. "You're my fuckin' vision, 'n ye run off with ye tail between your legs, scared of some wee blood - pathetic."

He was being harsh. But he was full of such fury, trying to let it fuel him more than the inevitable sadness that lingered at the idea of the only person he loved leaving him like it was nothing.

Abandoned, like he was nothing.

Like he didn't protect you with everything he had, provide you with a safe and loving environment.

He's back onto the stage, seeing everyone now dressed with their weapons and bags.

His voice thundered now, echoing into the dome of the old theatre like an actor on opening night.

"We find her and we bring her back. I don’t care what it takes."

Ink bit the inside of her cheek. Time to steer.

"Then we go north first. If that’s where her head would go, I’ll take Snake, Fox and Jones go south, Jimmy Jimmy can sweep west," She thinks over her next words. "Send Jimmima and Spike east."

Send the weakest in your direction.

Jimmy’s eyes narrowed. He thought it over for all of five seconds before nodding again. "She couldn’t have made it far - If she's scared, she... she won’t make it far, naw without me."

He was letting his anger still cloud him, but Ink just agrees, eager to give you as much space as possible.

Then, under his breath, barely a whisper: "You don’t leave me."

Ink nodded, already walking out, motioning the others to follow.

As the theatre exploded into action, doors slamming open, gear being packed, boots stomping, Ink paused just once at the threshold, eyes flicking back toward the shattered man who still stands on the stage.

She waits for Jimmy by the door, Snake already outside as the others have already left.

Ink murmurs to herself softly. "Run hard."

______

"Baby."

"Love," You reply with a grin, matching his as the wired phone rests in your hand, pressing against your ear. His actions mirror yours, and he shifts on the built in seat of the prison, resting his elbows against the small counter. "You get all dressed up for me?"

He sat as if he had been sitting there longer than usual, comfortable and waiting for your arrival.

Eric rolls his eyes at the same joke you make at every phone session. "Obviously," He still goes along with it, much to your amusement. "Got all dolled up for my lady."

"Mm hm," You nod, looking him over once he settles in his chair. There weren't any obvious cuts or bruises on his skin, and you relaxed just so slightly. "I can tell."

His grey tracksuit hung slightly loose on him, harbouring old stains you had been meaning to ask him about.

Thick glass separates the two of you. A stark and cruel reminder of how close yet so far your boyfriend was.

This was routine for you now.

A grey and dull room. Plastic chairs bolted to the ground. A thick pane of scratched glass filled with little indentations of past inmates names and tags.

It was busier than usual being a weekend - partners subdued with children fidgeting in their laps, guards watching intently for any unusual activity.

There was no place you'd rather be.

Eric's eyes were tired, a reminder that behind those walls he was constantly on guard, constantly on edge. But he never let you worry, never let you see him without a cheeky smile that managed to light up your usual dull booth.

He plays with the wire of his receiver, looking you over this time.

You tuck your chin slightly, bringing your phone a little closer in an attempt to drown out the background noise.

"You alright?" You ask softly, watching as his blue eyes continue gazing over your upper body.

There was nothing remotely sexy about your outfit, seeing as there was a strict dress code in the prison.

But it didn't matter, and Eric lets his eyes linger over your unzipped jumper, raising his eyebrow at the cleavage that peaked out.

He continues to grin, his voice muffled slightly through the plastic phone. "Better now, you know seein' ya makes me whole week yeah?"

You just nod, biting into your lip like a bad habit as you smile, knowing he was being truthful.

"What 'bout you darlin, you been busy?" He continues, nodding towards your hair, seeing it wasn't it's usual style.

You shrugged almost sheepishly, having gone out of your comfort zone and gotten your hair done. "Thought I'd change things up a little," a finger reaches up to adjust a looser strand. "Do you like it?"

He nods eagerly, looking it over. "Looks real pretty, but you'd make a fuckin' bald head look good I reckon."

A playful scoff leaves your lips followed by a small chuckle, and Eric revels in the sound, already considering your limited session a success.

"What about you, everything okay at your end? Eatin' proper?" It was a question you always asked, not wanting to pry too much into the other gruesome and unpleasant woes of prison.

He shrugs, but nods again. "Got everythin' I need, don't ya worry," Eric leans further, both elbows now pressed against his counter as he smiles. "Already told the boys here that I got a woman who tries fattenin' me up."

Your eyebrows raised, once again taking in his slightly loose tracksuit. "Yeah, 'cause you're a real porker aren't you Eric."

"Only when I'm porking you love," he winks, and your eyes widen, reaching out to smack at the glass. "Ouch."

"Keep sayin' shit like that Eric and you'll get calls taken off you," You look around embarrassed, hoping no one heard his stupid attempt at a joke. The man hadn't gotten laid since before he was sentenced. "Bellend."

Your voice dipped as you said his name, and he throws his head back in laughter, his teeth on display as other inmates look at him in annoyance. Eric adjusts the phone once more - switching ears, pressing it further as he straightens up.

"Have you been good at least?" You leaned in just slightly, eyes narrowing as you looked over his now free hand.

Eric shifts, his grin fading just a little to show something softer underneath. "Always, no mix ups, still keeping my head down yeah."

You exhale, tension in your shoulders as you eye his hand again. "What's the bruises on your knuckles from then?"

He pauses at your words, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at his palm, turning the hand over to look at the yellow hues that decorate his pale skin. "Ain't from any fights, don't you worry."

You wanted to believe him, but given his history with the other inmates, the idea of immediately taking his word for it didn't hit you.

As if sensing your hesitation, Eric holds his hand up to the glass, pressing it against the cool surface. "Promise."

He did it every time he wanted you to relax, his own little quirk, and you reluctantly nod, reaching up to press your own hand against his, feeling the cool material between that separated you.

It was the closest you had to feeling his touch, and you'd be lying if you said it was enough.

You missed his warmth, his hands on you - even the innocent touches, his hands on your waist to show his claim. The kisses before bed, the annoying way he'd steal all the blankets. All of it.

“Okay,” you say gently. “I trust you.”

His hand presses even further into the glass, wondering that if he tried hard enough - that he could imagine the softness of your skin once again.

There was a small silence as you just looked at each other. Taking in everything and somehow nothing all the same. It was the same every session, but it was still comforting. You just stared into his eyes, ignoring the distant chatter, the guards, the buzzing lights above.

It was just him. Only Eric.

He did the same, his gaze loving as he sighed.

Eric tilts his head a little, his voice dipping to that low, teasing softness he reserved just for you. "You're so beautiful, ya know that love? I miss you somethin' bad."

He would say the same thing every time. He never wanted you to forget how it sounded to hear his praises, to hear his appreciation and love for you.

You both pull away from the glass as you shrug again, use to rebutting his compliments, to which he'd always tut at you, telling you to accept them.

A buzzing sound goes off, startling you as usual. The rooms cruel way of telling visitors that there was only five minutes left.

Every visit was timed to the second, every goodbye and 'I love you' following sadly too close behind every hello.

Your back straightens as you compose yourself, before you snap your fingers, having nearly forgotten one of the main reasons you had been excited for this weeks session.

"Gift box!" You tap at the glass with your nail, your face lit up as you flashed your boyfriend a toothy grin. "Shit, nearly forgot."

"You what?" He questions, eyes closing in confusion.

"I got a letter that your wards opening' gift exchanges," you continue, now swapping the phone to your other ear as your wrist was getting tired. "I can send you a box of stuff - bunch of rules 'n shit on what I can include, but that's exciting yeah?"

His interest had piked, and he rests his chin on his free hand as he thinks over the revelation.

Eric knew gifting was normal in the prison, many of the other inmates receiving items from their families often, but he had never been eligible due to his poor behaviour.

"What're you thinkin'?" He asks, wondering what he'd be allowed to receive. His mind had honestly gone blank, having already gone so long without pleasantries and little things one would usually take for granted.

"Well, most things on the 'not allowed' part of the list are a given," Your tongue sticks out slightly as you reach down inside your bag beside your foot, wiggling around for the piece of paper you had saved.

Feeling the crumpled letter, Eric watches in amusement as you press the phone between your cheek and shoulder, using both hands to open envelop.

Once it was unravelled, you start listing off the things he can't ask for, nothing he would have considered anyway. "Anything you can think of Eric?"

He shakes his head. "Surprise me love."

"I've already got a box back home half full," you admit, nodding at your mans shocked expression. "Yeah, got some of your favourite books, sweets 'n stuff," you begin to list again, watching as Eric just smiles at your words.

"Even threw in my old iPod, you're not allowed wired headphones so I thought maybe some bluetooth ones, I've already downloaded a bunch of playlists and g-"

"You don't 'ave to buy me anything," he cuts you off, already hating the idea of you spending money on him. "Can listen to music without them."

"I've already bought them," your shoulders just shrug at Eric's expression, but eventually he starts to smile, shaking his head. "Put some teabags in too."

He snorts, but deep down he was more appreciative over something as small as a proper tea. Not that he'd ever admit it.

Eric begins to just stare as you start yapping away at more items you were thinking of including in his gift box, your voice muffling. His chest warmed, his stomach filling with that familiar feeling only you managed to grace him with.

He was utterly and completely in love with you.

It always shocked him how much you truly cared - how much you loved and supported him even when he got himself thrown in this giant concrete shit-hole.

He would never voice it, but there was always a lingering fear that every phone session would be the last - that you would eventually come to your senses and realise you were too good for him and leave forever.

But it never came, and instead you were here, telling him about all the presents you had packed away, how you were already planning the next.

Eric hadn't even realised you had finished speaking, your eyebrow raised at his expression, knowing he hadn't been focusing. "Wanker."

It was a jest, and you both immediately begin to laugh, you at the way his eyes drift when he's not listening, and him at your insult.

Another buzzer goes off, signalling that your time was up, and your shoulders sag.

You reach up again - having already thrown the letter back in your bag, pressing your palm flat against the glass like before. Eric did the same, your fingers just a pane apart.

"I love you," he said quietly, just enough for you to hear. "I'll see you next week yeah?"

"Always," you assured him, ignoring the guard that had come to stand behind you. "I love you too, be good Love."

The phones clicked off just in time for him to hear your words, and he nods, his side of the room now quiet as he hung his phone up.

You didn't move straight away, looking at him one more time, memorising the boyish grin he gave you - the soft crease between his brows, and he nods towards the exit, urging you to go before you got in trouble.

Eventually you stood, pulling your bag along with you as you blew him a small kiss, to which he pursed his own lips with a wink that was undeniable Eric.

With a final nod, you walked away, not looking back.

There was no need too, he always made sure you were gone before he left his own chair. The reassurance that you were safely out of this depressing place just enough to keep him going for the day.

--

It's just gone half ten in the morning when a guard had called Eric's name in his wing. His heart had jumped slightly, as it always did when someone called for him in here.

Making the trek, he reluctantly made his way to the calling guard, Mark, or was it Mike? Eric wasn't sure, nor did he care. But then he saw it: a box. Decently sized. Taped up from the bottom up with his name written on this side in familiar handwriting.

A little heart dotted the 'I' in his name, and he exhaled with a little chuckle.

He tries not to grin too hard as he signs a form handed to him, ignoring the way the guard rolls his eyes, pushing the box towards him - commenting on how there is some weight to it.

Your phone session had only been a few days prior and he hadn't been expecting the delivery so soon - but he couldn't deny the eagerness that filled his chest at what possibly hid inside.

The guard was right, the box was heavy, and he huffed as he lugged the large cardboard box back to his cell, ignoring the jests and comments from his friends in passing.

With the large steel door clunked shut behind him, Eric sits cross-legged on his cot, seeing that his gift had already been opened - no doubt by the guards checking for any contraband.

It felt like Christmas.

He was already beaming, wide and stupid. Chuffed didn't even begin to describe the feeling.

The first thing he was greeted by were books, both worn and new, and he pulls them out one by one, running his hand over the covers before stacking them beside his bed on the built in shelf.

You had even thrown in some comics, remembering he had mentioned in the past about his infatuation with old school stories.

"Oh here we are," He whistles lowly, seeing the black, sleek iPod resting on a box of opened wireless headphones. A sticky note was attached to the back in your handwriting.

"Gotta charge it in the common room, not allowed wires x."

He chuckles, thinking about how you really did go all out. He scrolled through quickly, seeing as it was already on, noticing you had already downloaded a number of playlists.

There were sweets too - loads of them. Haribo, strawberry laces, fizzy cola bottles, even those sour watermelon things he used to throw at you to get your attention when you were busy.

He tosses the numerous bags to the end of his bed. “Fuckin' hell man,” he mutters to himself, grinning. "Gonna get right fat."

At the bottom of the box, lie a bunch of photos in a ziplock bag, an envelop and a travel sized bottle of cologne. Eric reaches for the envelop first, but sees your writing again - just three words.

"Open me last."

Shrugging at the warning, he instead reaches for the ziplock bag, opening and seeing a bunch of printed photos. One of you two on the couch, you snuggling into his neck.

Another of just you, fresh faced and beaming at the camera as you wore one of his shirts, your grin infectious - Eric immediately twisting where he sat on his bed to stick it on the shelf by his head.

There were a couple more, casual pictures of you: some in his hoodie, some of the two of you from various dates, all making him smile as he remembered where they were taken.

He piles them along his shelf, sticking some on the wall when he ran out of room.

Already the space felt more his, more inviting. You would be the first thing he saw when he woke up in the morning and the last thing he'd see when his head hit the pillow.

Taking out the remaining gifts, Eric snorts seeing you had stayed true to your word. Teabags, socks, a beanie, even one of his hoodies he knew you loved to steal, but there was something different about it - this time it smelt of you.

He would recognise your perfume anywhere, and he closed his eyes as he lifted the fabric to his nose, inhaling the familiar scent.

Eric props the box to the ground, hoodie beside him as his eyes dart from item to item, worried he may have missed something.

His pale fingers hover over your iPod again, already picturing his head back on his pillow, headphones in, eyes shut with music he hadn't heard in years singing back to him.

He hides the iPod carefully under his pillow, followed by the headphones. His ward knew better than to fuck around with him or his stuff, but the threat of his stuff being jacked was still there regardless.

Your choice of socks were next.

Most were plain, black and white and navy, but there was one pair that stood out.

Bright red with little frogs all over, the little things smoking cigarettes.

He laughs proper, the sound bouncing off of his cell walls as he throws the socks to his clothing basket in the corner of his cell.

“Bet you pissed yourself throwin' them in," he mutters, grinning from ear to ear at the thought of you buying the pair on a whim. "Idiot."

He'd wear them to bed if anything, knowing he wouldn't be caught dead wearing them out of his four walls. His cologne was last, and he twists the cap, bringing it closer to inhale his past signature scent.

His eyes flutter shut and for a second, he feels like he was back in your shared bedroom in your flat, lights low, your head on his bare chest and his scent lingering in your sheets as you traced his many tattoos.

Finally was your letter, or what he had assumed was a letter, but as he picked up the envelope, he could feel something slightly bulky inside.

He turns the paper upside down, small squares falling out followed by another little sticky note.

"I love you."

His grin hadn't faltered, his finger running underneath your words as he sticks it to his wall beside your pictures.

At first, he thought they were just more selfies, albeit smaller, this time in polaroid form - but Eric's breath hitches in his throat as he starts checking them out one by one.

Eric’s breathing is thick. His grin disappearing and being replaced by a tensed jaw and wide eyes.

The first one could've passed as innocent enough.

You in bed, wearing the hoodie again, your legs bare and thighs on display with a familiar smirk. He already knew what was coming before he flipped to the next.

The second - the hoodie had risen, revealing more of your soft skin and lacy baby blue panties, a white bow in the centre.

His jaw clenches at the sight, seeing it was one of the many favourites that you owned. "Fuckin' hell." He mutters under his breath, exhaling slowly.

The following photo, you're perched on the edge of your bed, eyes soft, his hoodie resting beside your legs, arms pressed in front of you. The bra matched your panties, your breasts pushed up by your arms.

Eric lets out another shaky exhale, running a hand over his face as heat begins to seep into his skin.

His pulse jumps, warmth crawling up his neck as he flips to the next. It was the same angle, this time your bra was gone, your tits half on display, nipples peaking through your hand 'bra' as you were biting your lip.

Eric quickly checks his closed door, worried some nosey sod might see what was for his eyes only.

“Christ,” he says under his breath, swallowing the words as he shakes his head. “There's my girl."

He knew it was coming. Should've stopped whilst he could, but his longing and desire to see what had been hidden from him for so long got the better of him.

The rest of the Polaroids were from different angles, your hands no longer covering your breasts, exposing the skin.

You were posed in all different ways, giving him all the shots of your tits, your ass that looked even more full in your positions - desperate for his hands or his teeth.

One of them, you were on all fours, back arched with your hair flicked over your shoulder. Your clothed pussy just slightly peaking out, and Eric threw his head back against his cell wall, his free hand already reaching down to palm himself through his grey sweats.

He didn't care anymore, his cock had started getting hard from the first photo alone. His erection strained against the confines of his pants, growing by the second as his hand glided over the throbbing shaft.

His hand drifted back to his waistband, his fingers toying with the hem as he contemplated fucking his fist to your pictures.

Eric puts the photos down, his eyebrows furrowing as he realises one had stuck to another, and he pulls them apart gently.

He didn't stand a chance.

His hand already slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants to wrap around his aching cock.

The last photo was of you on your knees, looking up to the camera with your beautiful smile on display.

Your hands were on your thighs, breasts free and your nipples pebbled, but god, seeing your eyes looking up at him through your lashes was nearly enough to make him cum in his sweats alone.

His eyebrows quivered, a low groan escaping his lips as he began to stroke himself slowly beneath his pants.

"Fuck sake," he breathed, his voice strained with pleasure. "Fuckin' tease." Eric's words were choppy, his breathing growing heavier as he lost himself in the fantasy of your bare body, wishing nothing more than to be there with you in your room.

A small sigh leaves his lips, whispering your name. His words sound strangled and thick with desire, and he groans a little louder, his cock throbbing in his hand as he drank in the sight of your perfect fucking tits.

"My fuckin' girl," he growled, stroking himself even faster, dragging his hand up and down his uncut dick underneath his boxers. "Yeah…. Yeah - shit, like that, just like that.”

His blue eyes were dark and intense, filled with a drunken lust as he looked over the various photos sprawled out on his bed.

He panted, his hips rocking into his fist as his face winced in pleasure. Precum leaked from his reddened tip, drooling down the sides of his cock, helping to lubricate every stroke.

Eric licks his lips, his gaze locked onto the picture of you on all fours as he continued to work his shaft with desperate need. It was risky, usually jerking off in the showers when he was alone, but he couldn't stop, not when the sight of you set him off.

He hadn't fucked you in so long, not since he got himself arrested, and hell, usually when he fucked his fist - it was to just the thought of you.

Now, he had numerous little reminders of how you looked under your clothes, not that he had ever truly forgotten.

Your name leaves his lips again, almost in a pleading tone. He places the photo down, reaching for your his hoodie beside him, bunching it in his fist and bringing it to his nose for the second time, almost whining into the fabric as he drinks in your smell.

Eric's eyes close again, grunting in longing as his mind drifts to memories of the last time he had you beneath him. His grip tightens, imagining it was the clench of your warm, soaking pussy around him instead of his fingers.

"Fuck..." he drawls out, his voice muffled by the hoodie, his voice strained with effort in an attempt to hold back his impending release.

His thoughts were low and filthy - breathing growing heavier as he lost himself to the memory of every position he had ever put you in, of your lips wrapped around him, of your own smaller fingers as they'd glide up and down his cock and squeeze his balls.

He pumped his thick cock faster, his hips thrusting into his fist as he chased his high. Eric's eyes opened, the hoodie still wedged between his chest and chin as he smelt you all around him.

God, he couldn't pick what picture to finish too. He loved your breasts, remembering how they looked when they bounced above him, but, fuck - he loved your ass just as much, how much it bounced and jiggled when he fucked you rough and hard from behind.

Eric missed fucking your tits, sliding his cock between the soft flesh until he'd paint your neck and face with his hot cum.

Most of all, he missed sinking into your warm and welcoming body, watching the way your mouth would gasp with each inch he gave you, the way your nails would dig into his back and mark him up for weeks.

"Shit, shit," Eric panted, his body tensing as he neared his climax with each squeezing stroke. ""M'gonna fuck you so good," He whispers, picking the photo where he could see your face the best. "M'yeah, c'mon love, fuckin' show me - fuck."

His words ended in a loud groan, and Eric brings the hoodie back to his mouth, biting into the fabric as his orgasm crashes over him, thick ropes of cum shooting from his throbbing tip as his soaks his boxers and the front of his pants.

Eric's body shudders, panting, his lean frame going rigid as he rides out the waves of his release.

He had cum plenty of times since being sent to prison, but none of the times had felt as intense as this. His shaking hands continued gliding up and down, drowning his hands in his spent until he was borderline whimpering.

Eventually, he leaned his head back against his cell wall, his sweatpants now sporting a wet patch as he pulled his hand out, deciding to wipe the cum from his shaking hand onto his pant leg.

He grins sheepishly to himself, chest rising and falling as he makes sure his hand was relatively clean before bunching your polaroids up.

Eric throws his hoodie to his clothing basket with his free hand, away from any mess, and he pulls his new old iPod out from under his pillow, swapping the hiding place with your risky photos.

"Proper tease mate," he shudders again, reaching down to readjust himself in his soaked boxers. "Proper fuckin' tease."

He eyes the stain before lolling his head around with a sigh, already trying to remember if he had a clean pair of sweats in his cell, but Eric couldn't fight the grin on his face as he looks at one of the innocent pictures of you on his shelf.

A stark difference to the other sneaky photos you had snuck in. He looks down one last time to the sticky note saying 'I love you', his eyebrows furrowing as he flips the paper over, seeing more writing.

"Ash helped me take the pictures before you throw a fit x."

His laugh echoes through his cell again, not even realising the thought hadn't crossed his mind. All of your pictures were hands free, and he shook his head, picturing you asking your best friend to take such tasteful photos.

Fuckin' women.

--

London was surprisingly sunny this morning, but it's light was short lived, swapped once again for the buzzing lights of the prison.

The visitation area was quieter than last week, only a few visitors stuck in conversations with their loved ones.

The room was cold despite the welcoming change in weather, a reminder of the giant concrete box your boyfriend lived in.

Eric was already in his booth, elbows on the metal counter, receiver already in one hand. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, the hoodie you had sent him was folded in front of him, having clearly been worn before he started to sweat beneath his clothes.

Your heart was beating a little harder than you'd like to admit. You had seen him just a week ago, but time dragged on here - and now you knew he had received your gifts.

The box changed everything.

The sweets were lasting, much to his surprise. The hoodie with your perfume still on it was never too far away from him - even going as far as to sleep with it tucked under his head.

The books - he had already started reading one, having let a friend borrow another.

The photos though.

The photos wrecked him.

Eric had spent nearly everyday since receiving the photos just fucking his fist to the sight of them. Every night he had spent lying in his bed, the sheet over his lap with his jaw clenched, spent and breathless.

He sits up straighter as he sees you being guided in, bag slung over your shoulder as you walk with your head held high. The hand not holding the receiver was tapping at the counter, waiting for you to sit.

You beam at him, and he mouths, "Baby," as you get comfortable, quickly lifting your phone to your ear.

"Hi Love," You grin, watching as Eric's eyes narrow playfully. "You like the socks?"

"Socks?" He repeats with a huff, his voice low, warm and intimate. "Oh baby," His eyes trail over you like a memory being refreshed. He leans forward, eyes narrowing even more, his voice lowering. "You're a right tease y'know that? Real cruel."

The phone felt cold in your hand, but you'd be lying if there wasn't warmth in your cheeks at his words. Eric watches you like a man starved, like he was hungry for something only you could give.

You take a breath and smile softly, shrugging at him. "I take it you liked your presents?"

Eric scoffs at you, but there was no malice behind it.

"Liked?" he repeats again, turning his neck to look on both sides, thankful there weren't any other inmates sitting beside him. "You 'ave any idea how many times I've wanked? I'm runnin' out of clean boxers babe."

Your skin turned hotter at his revelation, and you looked around you too, afraid someone had overhead his crude words. A guard just stands by the door, his eyes barely open as he leans against the wall.

"Sorry," you whisper, but the grin that grew on your lips was a clear indicator that you were anything but apologetic. "Thought you'd need a pick me up."

He exhales sharply, shaking his head at you with a deep smile, crooked, wicked but loving, his eyes crinkling at the action.

"Fuckin' love you, you've got no idea," He pauses, looking at you again for a long second - longer than normal, memorising you again. "Thank you love."

You shrug again, just delighted that he enjoyed your presents, but he tuts at you, tapping at the glass to scold at you.

"Nah nah don't do that, I mean it - thank you for all of it, not just the gifts," he says firmly, hoping you feel him pouring his heart out. "For still showing up for me yeah? For bein' mine."

He groans softly, running a hand down his face before he rests his head in his chin, staring at you adoringly.

"I love you too ya softy," your voice was gentle, reaching up to press your hand up to the glass. "Everything okay at your end? Ruined clothes aside ‘course."

He nods quickly, lips quirking at your quip, his own hand coming up to rest against yours, ignoring the glass between.

The fluorescent light buzzes overhead, almost cartoonishly loud, but you tuned it out, starring at your other half like the world was fading away around you.

"I'm doin' good, real good," he says, happy to admit that he had been on good behaviour still. "Gettin' a gut though, think you packed a whole shop in that box," He looks down to his covered stomach for added affect, and you laughed, knowing that beneath his uniform - he was still the same.

“But nah - I'm good love, already half way through that book on mythology you threw in, good shit that."

You laugh even more, and he perks up at his favourite sound.

The two of you pass conversation for a little more, Eric informing you of what's happening at his end of the glass, and you telling him about how work was going, how you had asked your best friends to help you with taking those pictures after a night of wine and movies.

It was mundane, it was boring to most, but to you - it was your favourite thing in the world.

Wanting to have saved the good news for last, you change hands, swapping the phone over. "I've got something to tell you," you say softly after a quiet beat, tucking in your chin as the phone feels fragile in your hand. "Something good."

Eric perks up even more, his curiosity spiked and lips parting just a little as he utters a little 'yeah?' - urging you to continue.

"I spoke to someone on the board yesterday and well, uh- they've noticed your good behaviour these last few months, said you've been staying clean 'n all," You pause, making sure he was listening intently. He nods, eyebrows twitching unknowingly at your comments.

Eric had a bad history of fighting and having intense brawls with other prisoners and guards in his last ward, having spent a lot of time in solitary at his worst.

"And well, if you stay clean and have no write-ups for another two weeks," He still hadn't caught on, and so you say it with a gentle clarity. "I can apply for conjugal visits."

You watch as the weight of your news hits him. For a second, Eric just stares, blinking - stunned, shock running through him.

Was it his birthday and he didn't know?

Was it fucking Christmas?

Christ, was he dead?

He exhales eventually, like he had been punched in the stomach. He speaks, his voice barely a whisper as it comes out muffled through the phone. "You serious?"

"Mm hm," You nod, smiling as he exhales again. "Serious, you just gotta keep behaving yeah? They said they'll send you a consent form in a fortnight, I've already filled out mine."

"Fuckin' hell," he feels breathless now, his freehand in his hair as a cheshire like smile spreads across his face. "So that means we'll see each other innit, no glass, no phone, none of that shit."

"No phone, no glass," You bite your lip, giving him a knowing look. It was soft, a hint of wickedness. "Just us Eric, isn't that great? You just have to keep your head down, be a good boy."

He swallows hard, and any other time he would've rolled his eyes at the 'good boy' schtick, but he didn't bother.

He wanted to be good, he wanted to be good for you and you only. The better he acted, the closer he got to a reduced sentence, the closer he got to you.

"Yeah," he says breathlessly. "I'll be good, so fuckin' good love."

You believed him wholeheartedly. He was trying so hard to better himself, having put his self destructive tendencies behind him.

It was easier now, not being in that prison, away from his noxious family.

You both fell into a comforting silence once more, not heavy, not suffocating, but warm and inviting.

The buzzer had gone off, alerting you like clockwork that you had five minutes left, and you sighed, already counting down the days in your head until you could see him again.

"We're gonna see each other again," his smile was infectious, boyish and bright. "M'gonna hold you again, like proper hold you, none of this glass bullshit."

"I can't believe it either," his excitement was palpable at your words, looking proper chuffed as Eric begins to bounce his legs, ignoring the looks from those nearby. "I can’t believe how long it’s been too, way too long."

The final call buzzes, sharp and loud, causing you both to flinch out of your little bubble of bliss. He doesn't speak right away, his eyes just holding yours, still in disbelief that in just a few weeks, he'll have you in his arms again.

The receiver is still glued to his ear, but his words are caught behind his teeth, afraid he'll stutter and say something inappropriate.

Sensing his hesitation, you smile reassuringly. "I've already started packing your next gift box, any requests?"

He chuckles, knowing you weren't lying. "Pack of boxers, get Ash to take some more pics and," he draws it out as he pretends to list off of his free hand. "Some johnny's, might save my pants."

You snorted at his request, knowing his request for condoms was far from a joke. Regardless, you nod along. "Can do, what size again? Small?"

He laughs again, tutting at you with a throw of his middle finger. "My poor lady, already forgotten my dick yeah? Shame that, send that polaroid camera in too then, I'll remind ya."

A guard clears his throat from behind you, and a light by the phones flash. You both quickly throw in another 'I love you', just in time for the receivers both to shut off, much to your disappointment.

You mouth a 'Be good Love.'

Just like you always did, and he gives you a mock salute, pursing his lips in a stupid way of blowing a kiss.

You return the gesture, standing and throwing your bag over your shoulder as you blow him another kiss.

Like always, he watches you leave, throwing you a wave as you turn around, giving him a meek one as the guard ushers you out roughly, much to his dismay.

Two weeks was so close and somehow so far, and Eric didn't know how he was gonna wait.

Patience was never his virtue, but for you, he would try.

He would try anything and everything.

Until then, he would let your pictures keep him going, knowing that very soon he'd be seeing and feeling the real thing once more.

He'd be feeling you again.