#stranglermatt

“No, but that’s okay, I don’t think I’m all that into him, to be honest. He was so boring and to make it worse-”

The sounds of their chatter dies out, fading into the background as Charlie shifts his focus to the leather shoulder bag he’s plopped down onto the desk in front of him, now pulling various items from in order to get himself ready for the morning’s first class. It’s always the same conversations gracing his classroom on bright, sunny mornings such as this: anecdotes of dates gone bad, ungodly things experienced at frats, all of which are accompanied by utterly exhausted students who wish to be anywhere but this room.

A stack of syllabuses is organized neatly at the left hand corner of the wooden desk and as Charlie reaches for his bag in preparation of storing it away for the duration of the class, movement near the class’ entryway captures his attention. He lifts his head and glances in that direction, greeted by the sight of a student who instantly stands out from the rest.

Like the others, she holds a coffee in one hand and her reading materials in the other, but unlike the others, her hair sits perfectly in place, cascading down past her shoulders which - like the rest of her - is lightly tanned as if she has just come back from some far flung destination. The pearl necklace that sits around her neck is a delicate one, small like her stature, he notes silently. The gold of the earrings she wears catches and reflects the sun that pours in through the nearby windows, sending a near blinding streak of light across Charlie’s eyes and yet…he finds that he cannot look away.

It feels as if it takes no time at all to get her under his proverbial spell, but then again, Charlie has never had any trouble in this department. His wiles and charm are his most valuable assets and never has he been one to shy away from utilizing either to his advantage. He has long since learned her name, but he calls her Kitten; it is a nickname born out of manipulation but the more time he is around her, the more he discovers just how much he enjoys her presence. She, he finds, loves the term of endearment and so he continues referring to her as such.

His Kitten is a feisty one, a trait that he would typically find to be anything but desirable considering his extracurricular activities, but there is also an air of submission that allows him to continue his nightly habits without disruption. She stays away when instructed and comes when called and - at least for the time being - she never gives him any shit for it. He feels like the god that he is and, for the first time in his life, he thinks that he may be able to have both his carnal and romantic desires sated simultaneously.

With a routine unimpeded by his new-found relationship, Charlie once again finds himself in the darkened alleyways of the urban landscape. Hidden amongst the shadows of towering buildings, he watches a most interesting scene unfold before him.

There is an air of panic in the way the unidentified male paces the slender width of the alley only further punctuated by the swiping of a hand through their hair. Charlie watches silently, his presence seemingly undetected as the other man slides a pair of gloves back onto his hands and makes a rather careless move though…Charlie supposes he really does have no other option at this point.

When the sun finally begins to set, disappearing behind the skyscrapers and apartments alike, Bri makes her way to the nearest subway platform and travels to tonight’s venue. This is, without a doubt, the very last thing that she wants to do. She’d much rather be home, preferably hidden under her duvet where not a soul in the world can bother her.

But, sadly for her, her job requires her to be social - even when she is in the worst of moods.

“Have you added the red lights like I’ve asked?” Her head turns to look at the club’s manager whilst they stand on stage together, running through the checklist of items one final time.

“Done and done,” he replies, lifting a hand to do a sweeping motion towards the lights overhead. Behind them, the sound technicians work on setting up the amps and other items needed to make tonight’s show a success. The manager’s phone rings and he excuses himself, leaving Bri behind to mark off the final item on the checklist: sound check.

She turns, paper in hand and lifts her gaze simultaneously to look at whomever has been assigned setup tonight only to realize that -

No.

Oh, no.

It can’t be.

Matt’s gaze lifts and a look of recognition overcomes him, sending a wave of despair straight to the pit of her stomach. She discards the paper right then and there on stage, allowing it to float down towards the ground as her legs move quickly in an attempt to get her out of this terrible situation. Behind her she can hear commotion and then footsteps that are fast approaching.

This is the last thing she wanted to deal with tonight.

Surely this is some kind of fucked up joke. Knowing her neighbor, she wouldn’t put it past Matt to pull something like this.

“Wait,” he calls out after her, only causing her steps to quicken. “Hang on! Bri!”

Immediately, her steps falter and then stop entirely. When she turns around, she finds herself face to face with Matt who peers down at her through the lenses of his glasses.

[One Year Ago]

“Here, let me help you with that.”

“No, it’s fine.”

The brunette, now with one arm held out to hold open the elevator while the other reaches for the bags that Bri is attempting to unload onto the floor of her new apartment, thinks better of his attempt at assistance. She isn’t sure if it is the look she gives him or the defensive posture, but something has given him pause, and for this, she is glad. I would have slapped his hand away, she thinks to herself. It is the least she could do given his unwanted attempt to help her.

“Oh, uh… Okay. Last chance,” he says as he shuffles past her things and onto the elevator, turning to face her with his arm still outstretched to keep the doors from closing. “Doors’ll be closing soon.”

“Good. I hope they do.” She does not so much as cast a glance back at the man as she throws one of the bag’s straps over her shoulder, rolling the other alongside her down the hallway. Behind her, the sound of the elevator’s doors slide shut and she finds herself breathing a little easier.

Silently, she counts the doors she steps past: 304, 305, 306, 307… It isn’t until 310 that she stops, turning to face the unassuming brown wooden door, a hand dipping into her pocket to retrieve the metal key that has long since been warmed thanks to her body heat. Though the ridges and notches of the key glide into place effortlessly within the lock, it would seem the lock itself proves to be rather stubborn. Unlike the lock at her last apartment, this one does not turn so easily—in fact, when she attempts to turn her wrist, she’s met with an unexpected amount of resistance.

To her left, her neighbor’s door swings open and out steps a man that she can tell by periphery alone is rather sizable. Tall. Blonde. Muscular with sleeves of tattoos, she notes though she continues to struggle with the door. It is his lack of movement, however, that gives her pause.

Great, she thinks as she straightens her posture and halts her attempts at unlocking the door, yet another skeevy asshole I’ll have to live next to.

Exhaling an audible sigh, she tips her head back and momentarily closes her eyes before opening them again and looking over to the man that remains frozen at his own door. There is a brief moment where silence hangs between them and she finds herself temporarily taken aback. He is not at all what she was expecting when she’d initially—and quickly—assessed him to be. Though what physical attributes she had previously gauged had been correct, she finds that he is much more handsome than she had ever expected him to be.

Shit.

A scowl forms and her free hand reaches for her doorknob while her other hand resumes working on the lock in front of her, though she continues to look at the man beside her. “You can either help me or fuck off. I don’t need an audience.”

It’s immediate, the way the man’s demeanor changes. In an instant, his brows pinch downward and his forehead wrinkles with the glower that takes hold. She thinks for a moment that he might actually reply to her, that he might say something equally as shitty as her—if not worse—but she is surprised to find that he says nothing at all. Instead, he simply turns away from her strides down the hallway without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

Rather annoyingly, she finds herself disappointed with the lack of a rebuttal, and using the anger that wells up so easily within her, she channels it into opening the lock. With one final twist of her wrist and a hard push, she pops the lock and swings open the door to her new home.

[Present Day]

“...but to answer your question, I suppose you were always different from the very beginning. I didn’t want you to take no for an answer.”

Even in the darkness of the room, the only source of light being the glow of a light just beyond the window, Bri can make out the dimple that forms in Matt’s cheek when he smiles again before leaning down to steal yet another kiss. The hand in his hair tightens, fingers tangling in his curls to tug as the kiss begins to deepen.

As quickly as it has begun, however, it quickly comes to an end when the sharp tip of Bri’s incisor breaks the delicate layers of Matt’s bottom lip. The damage is minimal, but it is enough that she manages to taste the familiar copperiness of his blood just as he pulls back with a noise of surprise.

“What the fuck,” he starts, pulling a hand away from her to gingerly tap a finger against his mouth.

The hand in his hair falls away to rest a palm against his bare chest as the smile fades from Bri’s features. “Don’t think your little nighttime stroll’s gone unnoticed, Mattykins. Why were you following him? Or was it the poor, unsuspecting woman you were after?”

Bri’s eyelids flutter closed when his nose traces the shell of her ear and as her hands lift to rest upon his bare shoulders, her hips buck instinctively into his hand. She utters a soft ‘mm hmm’ in automatic reply to his words, so lost is she in him that the words barely register...until they do.

The tips of her black stiletto nails press into his skin until she hears Matt inhale a hiss of air against her ear prior to pulling back to look down at her. Behind the frames of his glasses his brows crease, and when his lips part as if to speak, she is quick to cut him off with words of her own.

“This is a two way street,” she says breathlessly when his fingers skirt the edges of her dampened underwear. “I mean it. I don’t—” Trailing off, she sighs a barely audible ‘fuck’ as his fingers continue to explore, the tips now sweeping past the elastic to trace along her wet cunt. Inhaling an unsteady breath, she forces herself to focus on what she wants to say. “I don’t ever want to see you with someone else on your arm again. If I’m yours while we’re doing this, whatever this is, then that means that you’re mine.”

The perplexed expression Matt had worn mere moments ago now shifts into one of satisfaction. No words are exchanged as Matt chooses to respond in another way entirely. His body looms over hers when he bends down to slot his mouth over her own while his fingers simultaneously sink into her tight, wet heat. In response, Bri gasps into the kiss and uses her hold on his shoulders to pull herself closer to him, her hips rolling to chase the motion of his fingers.

“I’ll fucking kill that piece of shit,” Matt spits through gritted teeth.

It’s good, Ben thinks, that he’s here now with his brother. Of the two, Matt has quite the tendency to fly off the handle in the best of situations and this...well this is anything but that.

“Relax,” Ben replies, falling into perfect step with Matt as they move away from the hotel, his hands now shoving deep into his jean pockets. “He’ll get what’s coming to him, but first we need to get your head clear.” When he catches Matt’s quick whip of his head to look at him, Ben amends his statement. “Foregoing a hunt.”

Beside him there is a grumble of displeasure and a few choice words that elicit a roll of Ben’s eyes, but together, they walk on.

Twenty minutes later, they arrive on foot to their destination. The darkness of a dimly lit alley swallows the men up as they turn and disappear from street view, soon descending down a dingy flight of concrete stairs to reach a decrepit metal door. Ben lifts a hand and pounds with his fits against the cool surface and barely a second has passed before the small rectangular cut-out in the center of the door slides open to reveal a set of eyes. The man on the other side scans them briefly before the slide closes and the door opens, allowing both Ben and Matt to step inside.

The lighting in the basement of the hallway of the building they find themselves in is no better than the alley, but Ben has been here often enough that he knows the way by heart now. He leads his brother further into the heart of the basement, and closer to the rumbling of a crowd that grows nearer with each step.

This may not be a hunt, but it will do, Ben knows.