#woooooo boy

"i mean, i could keep going but watching your pain and suffering is genuinely quite amusing. i also don't want the cavalry banging on my door tomorrow morning when they find your corpse." you shrug, gesturing to the security camera on the streetlight overhead as you press the clutch and shift into neutral, "you got jumper cables in that rust bucket?"

"somewhere amongst all the other junk." he huffs, his warm breath creating a frosty white cloud in the freezing cold air, "think you can find reverse and pull in so we're not blocking the street?"

you raise a brow, barking out an incredulous laugh, "do you want my help or do you wanna continue standing out here doing your best castanet rendition?" you cock a brow, unsurprised when steve looks at you with this vacant, confused stare, "i'm not explaining what castanets are to you, you're not five."

you press the clutch once more, sliding smoothly into reverse and guiding the car parallel to steve's van in one fell swoop, hood to hood. you don't give him a second thought whilst you manoeuvre, just vaguely aware of a flurry of movement from your peripheral as he (hopefully) looks for the cables.

why were you even doing this?

you supposed, steve was... steve. you'd known him since elementary school, since you were both five years old and he'd knocked you down in the playground and skinned your knee. it was an accident, steve was never a bad kid, didn't play into that role until middle school when the food chain really started to matter.

there had always been this natural gravitation towards each other, over the years. friends to not friends. you didn't always agree with steve's attitude, how he spoke to people and used his king persona to be an asshole. but in the quiet he was always so loveable, it kept you hanging on.

and you never ran with his crowd, didn't suck up carol perkins' ass or pretend to enjoy tommy hagan's company. tommy himself would goad steve whenever he'd stop to speak to you in the halls, ask why he hadn't hit it yet and make dirty comments about you that rolled off you like water from a duck's back.

tommy hagan was always a loser anyway.

then steve and nancy became steveandnancy, and the friendship was over after that. maybe steve thought it was disrespectful to continue entertaining your bond with nancy in the picture. he was so serious about her, really, truly loved her and showed her off in front of everybody. didn't care if it affected his cool status.

and why did it make your heart ache?

getting the job at sam goody in starcourt was just a coincidence. you saw steve every day, under the harsh fluorescent lights in scoops. you saw every time he lucked out, counted it as a quiet victory each time.

and he caught you looking, a few times. would wave and smile that goofy smile of his, always too afraid to come over and talk, like he wondered if too much time had passed to make amends.

it hadn't. but you didn't want to make that first move. so it never happened.

you'd wondered, for a long while after the fire if steve and robin buckley were an item. they spent every waking moment together, you'd thought, always in each others back pockets. until robin had given you a second once-over when she was checking you out in family video, eyes scanning your body a second too long and oh — huh.

all of this to say, things didn't happen between you both until that stupid fucking party, a little over a year ago. when you lost all inhibition in a strangers backyard and dropped to your knees in the rain.

then, he fucked it yet again. in the middle of bradley's, between nancy and jonathan byers. with all of his bravado, trying to put on a show for poor nancy, who looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her as he and jonathan bickered over who was carrying the 40-pack of waters.

you'd interjected, said something stupid that nancy giggled at, hiding her smile behind her hand. and steve looked so disgusted, looking you up and down like you'd walked into something you shouldn't have, like you'd put your nose where it wasn't wanted.

it hurt. him looking at you with such disdain.

the hurt in your heart turned to anger and resentment real fast.

"a-ha!"

steve comes back into view triumphantly holding the jumper cables in one hand, though his face is gloomy and perpetually miserable. you reach for the lever below your feet and pop the hood for him, gesturing vaguely to allow him to continue, you were sure he knew what he was doing.

you'd seen steve in a lot of forms over his life — angry, elated, heartbroken, drunk, high, horny and desperate… — but never quite this fucking defeated.

he works between both vehicles quickly, hunched in on himself like there's a storm cloud looming over his form, weighing him down. you feel a pang somewhere in your chest, feel the need to shake it off just as quickly as it's felt before it burrows somewhere deep.

"once you're done," your voice cuts through the freezing cold air, shocking steve from where he's ducked under the hood, "get in my car. it's around negative three million degrees and it's warm in here, so."

"i'm fine," steve grits out between clenched teeth, huffing out yet another blast of cold air. he must be finished, because he's standing there with his hands bundled under his armpits, clearly trying to seek warmth. they must feel like blocks of ice by now.

you sigh, rolling your eyes, "your nose is so red it looks like it's trying to escape your face. do you want to be nose-less at your open casket?"

steve's mouth downturns in consideration, only for a split second before he rounds the hood and jumps into your passenger seat, slamming the door shut with an exaggerated moan, "god, your seats are warm!"

your face flushes, repeating that same moan over and over in a loop. he writhes and slumps into the seat, tension from the freezing temperatures escaping his body as soon as he settles himself in, "at least take her out for dinner first, jesus." you groan, a waver in your voice that you're so certain gives away your inner turmoil.

"steak and lobster, holy shit," he grunts, wriggling around and making himself comfortable, arching his back and exposing his neck. his back pops and cracks with the movement.

there's a scar on his neck. you ponder quietly, wondering how you never noticed it the last time you saw him. it's faint, pale, wrapped the whole way around his throat, and you intake a sharp breath when you catch sight of it.

"getting the real steve harrington treatment, what a dream." the words roll off your tongue, sarcasm tinged, "what're you doing out at this time anyway? marshal law, steve, tut-tut."

"had business to attend to, that i guess i now cannot attend to." he shrugs casually, rolling his neck to look at you dead on, "could ask you the same question, where you going that's so important you're willing to risk your ass?"

you ponder. you could tell the truth, which is far more boring than the lie you have conjured up.

what the hell were you trying to do, exactly? make him jealous?

"seeing a man about a dog. those army guys are really cute, have a few in my arsenal but there's one that's really sweet on me." you smirk, and you see steve's face visibly crumple, not upset just — annoyed by the statement.

"'those army guys' are all fucking losers, shit for brains on a fucking power trip," he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and visibly huffing out a breath that puffs his chest, "thought you of all people would know that, you're smarter than this."

hook, line and sinker.

"but their uniforms and massive biceps make me so dumb," you jut your bottom lip out, mocking, "in all seriousness, this guy is just so good with his fingers. and his dick? god—"

the last part comes out in a bit of a slutty moan, actually. which wasn't what you were going for, but if it works.

"yeah, i get it." steve grunts, muttering nonsensically under his breath, nostrils flaring. he shifts awkwardly, trying to cross his legs and failing miserably with the lack of space in the footwell.

he's flushed red in the cheeks, not from the cold this time. you gawk, eyes running down his body, landing where they probably shouldn't.

you slump in your seat, rolling your eyes and trying to turn away from where you see the very obvious outline in steve's tight pants. "been a while?" you snark, drawing attention without actually looking directly at the problem, "probably has something to do with the perpetual scowl and lack of willing suitors."

you press yourself against your car door, thigh digging into the cold leather with the need to make as much space between yourself and steve as possible. his jeans strain obviously around his hips, the bulge of his cock prominent even in the dim light luminating through the car's windshield, from the corner of your eye, even. you inhale sharply through your nose, trying to focus on literally anything else.

"yeah, i guess so," steve exhales, on a laugh that sounds more like a bitter grunt. his fingers tighten on his own thigh, white-knuckling the starchy denim. he can't even look at you, stares straight out the windshield instead, embarrassment making his cheeks a ruddy red.

you just have to keep pushing it though, don't you? a weird anger and resentment coiling in your gut, annoyance that he's not taking your sly jabs on, maybe. and yet-

"surprised you and your right hand aren't better acquainted, thought you loved yourself so much you'd prefer it." the words come out of your mouth like vomit, spewing out venom even as the images of steve touching himself make home in your brain and have your heart thudding against your ribcage rapidly, "did watching yourself in the mirror get boring too?"

you need to stop. you're being mean, going across the line from harmless goading to just straight-up nastiness. your thighs clench together as you watch steve's grip on his own skin somehow grow tighter, bruising and angry.

the muscles in his jaw seem to be working overtime, teeth grinding audibly in the small cabin. he turns to look at you, and you're not a coward so you turn to look right back, brow cocked in wait, "oh fuck off." he spits, the words low and ground out in a growl.

except he's... touching himself. pressing the heel of his palm hard against the straining bulge in his pants, wincing at the feeling. your body feels like static as your eyes follow the movement, trained on his hand covering the entirety of his trapped cock.

"is this doing something for you?" you ask, voice breathier than before, "me talking about you getting yourself off?" you almost scoff, actually. covering your mouth with your hand as you continue to watch every squeeze of his fingers, "didn't realise you'd be this hard up."

"jesus fucking christ, do you ever shut the fuck up," steve grunts, a rhetorical question that he doesn't wait for you to answer, his hips give an involuntary twitch under the heat of his own hands. he's not watching your face anymore, eyes dancing over your clavicle, across your collarbones and your cleavage.

your own eyes track his, watching the way his deep-set brown irises flit around your body, and you've seen this exact look on his face before, only once.

a year ago, some girl you both knew from school threw a rager that definitely was not supposed to happen, and it was shut down rapidly by the army just a few hours after it began. you were both so drunk, so stupid drunk and he looked at you like he wanted to fucking devour you. as you ran off together in a blind panic, tears in your eyes from laughter.

things got messy. and quick.

you didn't see steve again after the incident at bradley's, not for a long while, and the animosity in your heart just made home and grew in your chest. imbedding itself there, because steve was still a fucking asshole, "are you thinking about it?" your voice cold but wavered, "thinking about how i got down on my knees in the dirt for you?"

you hear steve's breath catch in his throat, his hand tearing away from where it sat over his cock, moving to flex on his thigh once more. like he's imagining them somewhere else, almost.

"don't talk about that," steve's face is hard, his eyes dark in the dim car light, "it was— i was— "

he can't even think of an excuse, his voice weak and unconvincing in your ears and probably his own as well. you can see where his pulse hammers in his neck, where the tendons flex from grinding his teeth too hard, trying his best to show some sort of fucking restraint.

"but it was so easy to get me where you wanted me, huh?" your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt as you say it, voice cutting and cold, he's looking where your hands dance over your skin, "just one look, one smirk. the harrington charm, right? and i was down on my knees in that backyard where anybody could've seen."

steve swallows audibly, grunting, jaw continuing to tick.

"do you think about that? when you fist yourself in the mirror?" you cackle in delight, taking great pleasure in how his jeans somehow grow tighter and you see the length of him pulse through the thick fabric, "think about how my throat swallowed you down? inch by inch."

"fuck, stop." steve makes a strangled, garbled noise in the back of his throat, his other hand slamming down on the dashboard hard, shocking you back into your seat. he's so tense, wound up tight like a spring, hips continuing to jerk roughly like he can't control it.

"you do think about it," you murmur, the teasing lilt in your tone still carrying on even as you lean forward into steve's space, cleavage spilling from the neckline of your shirt with the movement, "how i gagged and cried but didn't stop. how you couldn't keep your eyes off me, off your cock sliding in and out—"

you're cut off abruptly when he turns to look at you, pupils blown and breath shaking in his chest. his fingers dig into his own thigh so hard you know he's bruising himself, "yeah," he growls, voice rough and strained, "i fucking think about it. when i'm alone, when i'm in the fucking shower, i guess even when i'm jerking off in the damn mirror, like you said."

you make an elated noise in the back of your throat, thighs squeezing and your hand running along steve's inner leg, just briefly. you make a show of dancing your fingers between his legs, only to skate completely past where you're so sure he wants them. your hand lands between his knees to pull the lever under the seat, forcing it back as far as it can go.

"what are you— what—" steve's hand comes up to rest on the car door, bracing himself as you swing your leg over his thighs, "there's a camera."

"okay, and?" you shrug, a thrill running up your body and covering you in goosebumps, a sick part of your brain hoping that steve kicks into overdrive from here and takes over, takes some of that pent-up frustration out on you, like he so clearly needs.

"you're really enjoying this, aren't you?" he mutters, voice thick and frustrated. his hips punch up into the space you've left between your bodies, your knees doing the work and holding your frame up so that you don't sit down on him fully.

"yeah, i really am," you admit, pawing at steve's sweater-jacket combo and hoping he gets the memo to just take them fucking off already, "think you can last more than a few thrusts if i let you fuck me?"

steve moves awkwardly to strip himself of his layers with your help, leaving him in a threadbare white tee, hair mussed from the movement. he exhales sharply through his nose, fingertips digging into your waist possessively to press you down onto his lap, moving you back and forth gently, "you talk way too much." he huffs.

he's looking at you again. that same look. the devouring kind. you inhale on a gasp, relishing in those hands mapping out your torso, running up under your shirt to grasp at your soft waist, "you stall too much," you counter, lazily rubbing off against him, hips rolling, "trying to buy for more time? i can feel it twitching, y'know."

you can feel every inch of him through the fabric of your panties, skirt askew on your hips from the movement. his hands are everywhere, one sliding up higher on your body to paw at your tit, the other inching up behind your neck and wrapping tightly into your hair, tugging gently to pull your head back and expose your throat.

"fuck, you're right," steve admits, voice strained, his lips brushing over your neck, whispers of a promise to bite and claim, "i'll still fuck you better than that fucking army lacky.”

"yeah? gonna put those talented fingers of yours to use, big boy?" you moan up at the ceiling, head snapped so far back it's all you can do. you slap a hand down onto the window, the other wound tight in steve's shirt for balance.

he finally bites into your skin, sucking and licking until you're sure there'll be a mottled bruise in it's place. his hips don't stop bouncing, rolling into your cunt as he gets to work marking your body.

yeah, you needed this. to be raw and animalistic, all teeth and bite and sweat and cum. needed to unleash that pent up anger and need that had been roiling in your gut for over a year, needed for steve to show you just how fucking angry he was.

"bet you needed this as much as me, someone who knows what you want," he speaks conversationally against your skin, hand trailing down from your breast, to dip into your panties, pressing into you where you're wet and aching, "gonna shut you up."

your hand moves from where it's wound tight in his shirt to his hair, nails digging in a silent beg to keep going. his teeth are angry and marking against your skin, stinging deliciously enough that your hips rock down on instinct into his hand, "do it then."

"you taste fucking amazing," he murmurs, licking and soothing a vicious bite on your throat, fingers pressing harder where they're sliding between your legs, running rough circles over your clit. he grunts when your fingers tug rougher at his hair, smirking against your neck and bumping his hips up once more.

your own hips can barely stop moving, rocking against where his fingers circle your clit messily. the push and pull you're both giving to each other is rough, vulgar and desperate. your free hand clasps to steve's neck, scratching and marking his tanned skin with vicious delight, the gasps spewing from your mouth like you're nothing more than a wild animal in heat.

steve hisses and you know you've broken skin, but he doesn't pull away from you. if anything, he begins pushing his hips up into you with more force, more insistence.

"you love this," he mutters, slick fingers sliding from your clit to sink knuckle deep inside of you, curling and mapping out your insides. smirking when you let out a foul moan, "that good, baby?"

baby. he needs to shut his fucking mouth. he can't just call you that and think it's okay. it's. it's doing things to you.

"would be real nice if you—" you're cut off by his calloused thumb sweeping over your clit in rough strokes, working in tandem with his fingers pumping in and out of you relentlessly. the sticky click of your wetness is loud in your own ears, loud enough that it almost drowns out the whorish sounds leaving your mouth.

your chest heaves with need, hips rolling and grinding against steve's hand and you know you're making an absolute mess, can hear the dirty clicks as his fingers work over you. you're gonna cum, can feel it coiling in your gut in hot waves, ears ringing enough that your own moans sound like they're underwater.

steve barely blinks, can't take his eyes off of you as much as you can't tear yours away from him. you can see his arm flexing in your peripheral, tendons and veins protruding as he fucks you with his fingers, pressing on that same fucking spot and rubbing your clit in time, like he knows. knows you're fucking close.

"m'gonna make a mess," you pout, fucking pout between wanton cries.

steve smirks, his nostrils flaring, fingers working faster, "good," he shrugs, voice rough with want and it makes you run hot, "wanna feel it, c'mon."

his thumb presses down harder on your clit, his fingers curling just slightly and your back arches off his lap, pleasure coiling in your gut, "f-fuck, steve i—i'm," your nails dig into his shoulder as your orgasm tears through you, hips jerking in aborted little thrusts. you're moaning — loud, crying out steve's name and taking his fingers fucking prisoner or something as you come down, blinking away tears.

you can feel steve watching you with this rapt attention, and he doesn't stop moving his fingers, keeps them pumping until he's drawn out every last twitch and spasm from your body. your legs tremble as you slump against him, panting.

"you sound so fucking good when you cum, gonna be playing that on a loop for a long time,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your cheek as he slips his fingers free.

and then he. he tugs you back by your neck, a firm hand pressed to your skin as he brings his glistening fingers to his own lips and sucks them clean, groaning.

you watch with hazy eyes, awestruck as he sucks on his own fingers, hips still jerking up underneath you. and you can't take it any longer, pulling his fingers free and smashing your lips against his, licking into him and moaning when you taste the remnants of yourself on the plushness of his mouth. you bite at his lower lip, tugging and feeling gratification when he sinks his fingers into your neck rougher, meeting the kiss with as much desperation.

"need it, need you inside me," you rasp, fingers flying to his waistband.

he lets you fumble with his belt and zipper, arching to help you pull his jeans down below his ass. his cock springs out, red and leaking and you moan, wrapping your hand around it, "fuck," he grunts, swallowing loudly, "then take it, baby."

you shift, lifting yourself just enough to guide him to your entrance, sliding the head over your folds just once before sinking down in one fell swoop. even after all of that, he's still big enough to have you gasping on a choked breath as he enters you.

steve's hand grasps onto your thigh tightly enough to leave fingertip shaped bruises as he sucks in a harsh breath, "you're so fucking tight, oh my god," he groans, hips snapping up into you almost immediately.

and it's overwhelming. he's everywhere. lips and teeth biting at your neck and throat, his other hand still clasped behind your neck and holding you in place. you brace your own hand on the car window, the other on steve's throat and for what? leverage, balance, anything.

he fucks you from below, quick and sharp with his feet firmly planted to the floor and you take it, bouncing roughly in his lap and gasping, "feels so good," you whine, fingers flexing on his throat, a whisper of a squeeze, "god, so fucking big— fuck, fuck."

a rough sound escapes steve's lips, his hand moving to your waist to maneouvre you slightly and bounce you back down on his cock, the angle changing slightly with the adjustment and you mewl, "yeah? taking me so good, baby."

you nod, slumping forward into him and giggling breathily as he continues fucking you with this reckless abandon, sweaty skin slapping with the sheer force of your bodies meeting, "yeah, needed this." you swallow harsh, squeezing his throat again, "y'needed it too, huh? angry boy. needed to let it out."

your words are slurred, gasped and desperate, jittery and nowhere near as cutting as you wanted them to be. but he's groaning, hips snapping up and taking — the filthy, wet sounds of him sinking in and out of you are obscene.

"god, shut up," steve grunts, fingers tightening on your waist and forcing you to meet every rough snap of his hips, "just like that, oh fuck. y'r gonna make me cum, shit,"

he tangles his hand in your hair, holding you in place. the eye contact is searing, leaves your body hot and prickly all over and oh, oh god. he's fucking ethereal, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and his eyes so dark they're almost black. he's so close.

"i'm— fuck—" his mouth opens on a guttural groan as he pulses hot inside of you, holding you down on his cock so hard that you have to lean forward and bite into his shoulder.

the line of pleasure-pain has you crying out, your own orgasm ripping from you, and you're clenching around him, milking him dry. his hips are still moving, erratic little thrusts as you both ride it out.

"anyone ever tell you you look real good when you cum?" you ask, panting against his skin, nervous system on edge and making you vibrate against him.

"you look better." steve murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist as if to sooth the stinging bruises he's left behind.

he moves his other hand from where it was buried in your hair to dance down your back, gentle in the aftermath of roughness.

"yeah, yeah, no need to woo me. we just fucked without all of that." you shoo him away with a flick of your hand, though you're smiling. he's so gorgeous like this, flushed from his orgasm and covered in your marks. like he's yours to claim or something. ha ha.

"just saying," steve chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as he shifts you from his lap with ease, both of you moaning gently when he slips free.

you climb back into your own seat, attempting to adjust yourself though you know it's no use. you no doubt look a mess, evidence clear in the way your hair is mussed and your mascara slides down your face, "y'think that thing has enough charge in it by now?"

steve's making work of buckling his jeans up when you say it, and he gives you a sidelong glance, "probably. we'll see if it makes it back to the squawk without shitting itself."

"chances are slim." you say it severely, deadpan, "want me to tail you back just in case?"

there's a glimmer in steve's eyes when you offer. hopeful, if you think too hard. and your chest tightens.

"gatorade and boppers good enough for payment? maybe your pick of the station playlist?" he cracks, going for casual and failing miserably.

"sounds a lot like a date."

"we've kinda done it ass backwards, but... yeah?"

"well, if you insist."

He’s sat on the edge of his bed, the lamp in the far corner being the only light to illuminate him. His elbows are bent on his knees, holding his head in his hands. His fingers tangled into his curls, the distress causing him to grip tight. He felt your presence, the calming aura you gave him radiated towards his unsettled one. He wanted to look up at you, to greet you and pull you close.

But he was here.

“Don’t look at her. Don’t speak to her,” he harshly whispered, his voice low and deep. You closed the door behind you, slowly making your way over to him.

“I said, don’t speak to her. She’s not yours, she isn’t for you.”

“Bob? Who’re you talking to?”

His head moved, almost looking in your direction before turning the other way and looking behind him. He was listening to something— or someone— that you couldn’t hear, couldn’t see.

Then it hit you.

The last time you’d seen him act this way was months ago, the last time that Void came around. You’d thought Bob made progress; he seemed happier now, more in control of his abilities and strength. Your heart broke for him, the feeling of remorse tightening in your chest.

“Is… is he back?” Your voice was small, but clear to him. He finally looked up at you. The usual warmth his eyes held for you was almost gone; like it was fighting to stay in his orbs.

“He never really left, I think. He started to show up a few days ago, but I shrugged it off. He only comes to me when I’m starting to feel safe again. Sometimes I think he’s right. He says I’m not good enough for you, that I’ll never deserve you… but he does. He thinks you should belong to him, not me.”

Your heart broke for him. Bob had always been nothing short of the best for you. There was no one else in this world that you’d rather call yours. You stepped closer to him, his eyes never leaving you as you approached him.

“Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t get to make that decision.”

She’ll grow bored of you. Too nice, too soft. Let me show her what power really feels like.

He stood up, stepping towards you suddenly. His taller stature towered over you as he cornered you against the wall you stood in front of. You could tell whatever Void just said to him pissed him off; his breathing intensified and the look in his eyes darkened, jaw clenched.

“I… I feel him,” he began, voice low and spoken through gritted teeth, “He’s just watching. Listening. It’s… He’s… getting off on this.”

The second you let your guard down, she’s mine.

He shook his head, still trying to fight Void’s comments about you.

You take a hand and run it through his hair, pulling his head down closer to you. Nothing more than a whisper, you lean into his ear and say, “Let him suffer. You’re the only one who can touch me, Bob. I’m yours.”

“Say it again, I don’t think he heard you clearly.”

“I’m yours, Robert. Only yours.”

It’s like a switch flipped in him. He kissed you harshly; it was sudden, probably bruising; it was dominant. One unfamiliar to you. He’s only ever kissed you with tenderness, like you were made of porcelain. Now, you felt his anger, his frustration. Not with you, never with you, but for him. His hands moved quickly, determined to get your clothes off as fast as he could, hands slightly trembling. It wasn’t just the lust now coursing through his veins, but it was possession… dominance.

His hand slid down your body tantalizingly slow— like he’s showing Void exactly what he can’t have. You whimpered as his fingers rubbed circles around your core, moving around you expertly. He made sure Void knew that he knew your body, not him.

“Already so wet for me,” he muttered against your neck, kissing right under your ear. “Always for me, isn’t it? Never for him.”

You nodded, whimpering a small little ‘hmm’ as a response. He slid two fingers into you— no warning, no slow ease, just rough desire. His other hand held the back of your neck, keeping you stable.

“He… sees this, doesn’t he?” you say through moans, panting as he stared down between your legs.

Bob nods, his fingers picking up the pace. “Yeah… Yeah, he does.”

Your voice dropped lower, whispering into his ear, “Let’s show him how good you make me feel. Let him suffer knowing he’s not the one sinking into me… he doesn’t get to feel me like this.”

He growls a low moan from deep in his chest. He crashes his mouth back onto yours, tongue slipping into your mouth, desperate to kiss you as deep as he could. His fingers were quick, ruthless, like he was showing Void just how real you were… how deep he could reach inside you. He could never— would never.

“You’re so wet… so desperate for me. Not him. Never, ever him.”

“Mmm, only you… Only for you,” you whimpered, nodding your head quickly. Your hands grip his shoulders as he doesn’t let up, his relentless pace making your legs start to tremble. Your orgasm is chasing you, running up behind you ready to push you over.

“Show him, baby. Show him how you fall apart for me. How much you need me,” he begged. You clench over his fingers, knowing you’re at the edge. He grinned— a dark, powerful grin. He took pride in making Void suffer.

“Go ahead, baby. Come for me, all over my hand… let him fucking watch you.”

You did as you were told, his fingers coated in your warm slick as you shook before him. Your hips jerked against his hand, trying to get him ever deeper inside you.

“Yeah… that’s it. Look at you… such a mess for me.” He whispered, taking his fingers out of your pulsing core. He rubbed your pussy, collecting more of your slick before bringing his fingers to his mouth. A small gasp escaped you as you watched him lick your come from his hand, savoring the flavor of your arousal like you were his dessert. Taking his fingers out, he muttered something. It was unintelligible, but harsh— he’d spoken to Void directly. He pulled you away from the wall just enough to slide his arms around your waist, throwing you over his shoulder. Bob was always so gentle with you, so polite with his touches— so much so that you forgot his abilities… his inhuman strength.

He tossed you onto the bed, making quick work of his own clothing.

You’re weak, Robert. Your body could never please her.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bob spoke, his voice louder and stern. His jaw tightened, scanning your body. “Just look at her. You’re torturing yourself knowing you’ll never feel how warm she is, how nice she takes me.”

He strokes his cock a couple of times and slams into you without warning, one deep and punishing thrust. You cry out, clutching his broad shoulders.

“Gonna fuck her until there’s nothing left for you. I’ll ruin her— oh, fuuuuck,” he moans, almost a growl as pleasure and anger course through him. His thrusts are deep, like he’s trying to bury himself so far into you that Void could never pull him out— showing him just how much he gets to have of you. You can tell when Void speaks to him; his thrusts hit harder and he snarls, almost like he’s holding back from verbally destroying him.

You look up at him, his eyes glowing gold just the tiniest bit, just as he shakes his head.

“You’re mine. Mine. Not his, you’ll never be his. He doesn’t get to have you like this, all warm and tight around me.”

You’ll fuck up and lose her. You know it.

Bob snaps, his hips slamming even faster into you. A hand wraps around your throat, the pressure making you close your eyes in bliss. The grip is tight, firm but still gentle. You weren’t sure of what he said to Bob, but you knew it pissed him off. His hand grounded you as he let his anger out, tightening just a little more.

“She’s so tight around me, gripping me like she doesn’t want to let go.” His other hand now gripped the headboard. “She’s. Still. Here,” he growls through his gritted teeth, a hard thrust of his hips hitting yours with each word.

Your body arched off the bed, hips moving to meet his. Your eyes began to fill with tears, the pleasure becoming almost enough to push you to your orgasm.

“Robert…” You moan loudly, using some force to push out a sound that wasn’t a whimper.

“Mmm, that’s right, baby. Say it again. Louder, make sure he hears you.”

This time, you screamed his name, with one of your hands gripping his upper arm and the other raising to touch his face. The hand he placed on the headboard came down to meet your hip, and he held onto you so tight you felt the bruising start to form.

“Good girl,” his voice is lower, cracking at the end. He wasn’t tired as his pace has yet to falter, but it was something deeper, more personal. It’s almost like he said it in a way where he’s in disbelief, stunned that you’re underneath him, and that you’re real. Something Void told him he’d never have— something real, someone real. To love forever, to be with until the end of his days.

“Oh, baby, you’re so fucking perfect. So goddamn perfect and you’re mine. Not his. You’ve always been mine.” His words come out strong, like he’s beating the idea into Void even harder.

The darkness started to fade from the room— you didn’t realize it, but it wasn’t just dark in the apartment, it was Void. He’d caused the apartment to become engulfed by his darkness, his evil.

Void began to silence himself. Bob wasn’t feeling that shiver creep up his back like he was there, watching as he made you unravel before him. It was just the two of you, finally.

But, Bob wasn’t finished.

He pulled out of you in one quick, solid movement and flipped you around onto the bed. His hand pressed into your back to hold you down onto the bed. Your fists grip the white sheets as his thrusts pick back up, causing your body to shake.

“I need the fucker to see this before he goes back to whatever shit hole he came from. I need him to understand that you want me like this. Need him to watch you take it— take all of me in that pretty pussy.”

His hand slides up your back, now placing his forearms on each side of you. Your loud, whiny moans mixed with his needy, gravelly ones as they filled the room, echoing off the walls and holding the two of you. He leans over you, his mouth at your ear as his breath sends chills up your spine.

“Tell me you love me, baby. Tell him that you love me, before the fucker leaves. Say my name.”

“Fuck, Robert, I love you so fucking much— mhmmm— there’s no man better for me than you.” Your voice sounds more like a prayer, sobbing the words to him as you whimper through the moans.

That’s what breaks him.

He groans into your neck, his hand reaching up to hold yours as his hips thrust a few more times, spilling inside you. It’s deep and hot, like he’s pouring everything he is into you— his body, his soul, his darkness. Almost as if he had finally exorcised the evil from himself, finally at ease.

You’d come with him, crying his name out into the pillow, your core clenching around him.

It’s silent now— the room, the Void.

He pulls out to lie beside you, pulling your exhausted body into his.

“I’m sorry if I was..”

“Don’t be,” you cut him off, knowing his next words, “You needed that, baby. I needed you.”

“He just.. he got back into my head. He was so loud this time. Just constantly telling me how I’d never be good enough for you, how I’d never deserve someone like you. I just wanted to disappear again.”

You turned so that your chest pressed against his, tilting your head up to look at him. The gold sheen in his eyes was now gone, leaving you to look into these beautiful brown eyes you’d fallen in love with.

“I know, my love.. I know. But you didn’t.”

“It’s.. it’s weird. I heard him fade away this time. That’s.. never happened before. I could feel him sinking away from me. Like each time you said my name he pushed him back into his own void. I hate him. I hate that he’s always here, just waiting to come for me again.”

You caressed his face, using your thumb to wipe at a tear starting to roll down his face.

“I know,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss his jaw, “but I’m here, too. And I always will be.”

He looked down at you, eyes filling up with more tears, “Don’t let go of me tonight.. need to keep feeling you.. how you’re real.”

“I won’t. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He grabbed down at the blanket that was almost off the bed, unraveling it the best he could with one hand and pulled it over the two of you. It was quiet after that— a good kind of quiet.

He feels her shifting restlessly within him, clearly exhausted from her earlier struggles, yet now her panic turns to confusion. Lux doesn’t blame her. Even with a belly full of prey, the discomfort from his earlier neutralizers still lingers. By now, Melissa Koontz has surely noticed their effect and is wondering why she’s not feeling the harsh sting of Lux’s stomach acids.

Lux opens his eyes and sits up straight. Unfortunately, she’s going to have to remain confused for a bit longer. He needs to keep up appearances and that means giving the impression that he’s taking time to digest before heading home for the night.

Reluctantly, his eyes fall on his desk and he spots the reports Cecil mentioned earlier. If he’s going to be in here for a bit, he may as well get some work done. He picks up the reports and begins sifting through them.

Fortunately, there doesn’t seem to be much of note. The new workers are all progressing well and demonstrating the professional traits that Lux had hoped they would. By the time he’s done reading through all the reports, Lux has almost forgotten about the weight in his belly. She has since gone still, the only indication of life being the slow and steady rising and falling of her torso.

Finally, Lux decides it’s been enough time.

He rolls his chair over and pulls open the top drawer on the side of his desk. Feeling relieved he deposits the reports inside and closes it again. That’s one thing off his mental checklist. Next, he digs into his pocket and produces a small key. With some difficulty, he bends down and unlocks the very bottom drawer.

Among other things, a bottle of neutralizers rolls about as he opens the drawer. Lux looks down at it with a frown. Surprisingly, being the Supervisor of the Facility does not give him ample time to disappear and down a handful of neutralizers at will. The only moment he’d found that day to take some had been a good two hours before the disposal. He estimates that, by now, he has about another hour before they begin to wear off.

He stares at the bottle a good moment longer before shaking his head. An hour should be enough. No need to waste perfectly good neutralizers tonight.

Instead, he pushes the bottle out of the way and pulls out a perfectly crisp manilla folder. He turns it over in his hand, gauging its weight and thickness. He smiles to himself. Lenora had really outdone herself this time. Yes, he had contributed a fair amount to this folder, but it had been her who had compiled everything for him. For that, he would be eternally grateful.

He grabs the briefcase that leans against the side of his desk, pops it open, and carefully slips the folder inside. It’s time to go now.

As soon as he rises from his seat, briefcase in hand, Lux’s prey comes to life once more. He does his best to balance holding her still and not crushing her entirely, then heads out of his office.

His journey to the exit consists of fellow workers each giving him a nod of respect as he passes, sometimes a muttered, “sir.” Almost all of them ease back, giving him as wide as berth as possible. All of them except for one.

She’s sitting at her new post at the entrance, quietly reading a book, when he approaches. Her eyes rise lazily from the page and come to focus on him.

“Evening, Lux,” she murmurs. Her gaze flits to his full belly, down to his briefcase, then finally back up to his face.

“Good evening, Lenora,” he says in return.

“Turning in for the night?”

There’s only a brief hesitation. He knows exactly what she’s asking.

“Soon,” he tells her. “I just have a quick errand to run.”

They lock eyes. “I understand,” she says, then, so casually one would barely notice, she flicks a switch at her guard station. She gives him a single nod.

“Thank you,” he murmurs before passing through the detector, and despite his prey fully and undoubtably being alive, nothing happens.

Barely a second passes before Lenora’s finger flicks the switch again.

“Looks like you’re clear to go,” she tells him.

“Of course,” he replies.

Again they lock gazes, and this time Lux tries to communicate to her how grateful he is for all her help. Nothing he’s doing right now would be possible without her.

The way her eyes alight in response, he thinks she understands.

“I hope your errand goes smoothly,” she tells him.

Lux huffs. “So do I. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lenora.”

She leans back in her seat, observing him carefully. “Take care, Lux. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lux hesitates. He feels as though he should say something more, but the words escape him. So instead he simply nods and turns to leave.

As he walks to his car, he can’t help but marvel at how much easier leaving in this state has become. There’s a reason he had moved Lenora to guard duty, and there’s a reason she had been on duty tonight specifically. Perhaps she doesn’t know all the details of what Lux has been doing, but he’s sure she’s smart enough to figure most of it out. At the very least, she had never hesitated to help him when he’d needed it.

Lux pulls open his car door and slides inside, adjusting the seat to give his prey more space. He carefully sets his briefcase on the empty passenger seat. The shiny leather under the dim lights of the parking lot catches his attention, and he frowns.

Leaving with live prey isn’t the only reason Lux had moved Lenora to guard duty. If the contents of that briefcase are able to accomplish what he hopes they will, then he plans for all of this to be over some day. He’s already begun preparing. Giving Lenora more and more time away from extractions and disposals is his way of preparing her, though she might not realize it.

Lux shakes his head and slams the car door shut. He doesn’t have time for distractions. He needs to get to his destination before these neutralizers wear off.

He pulls out of the parking lot and spends the next twenty minutes willing himself not to go into autopilot and take a wrong turn. He’s not going home tonight. At least, not yet. Thankfully, the erratic and sometimes desperate shifting in his gut is enough to keep his mind from drifting too far. Once he takes the turn off his normal route, he lets himself relax a bit.

The house he finally arrives at is much closer to the Facility than Lux’s own but far more remote. It’s nestled within a rustling forest. Lux steps out into the warm summer air and is surrounded on all sides by the high, musical tones of peepers. The house he approaches is much more modern than its location would suggest. It’s sleek and surrounded by a small, man-made pond that features a little waterfall. As Lux crosses the bridge, he glances into the darkened waters and catches a flash of orange. Somehow the fish inside are still thriving.

As Lux unlocks the door and pushes his way inside, he can’t help but think this house and location are truly beautiful. Too bad no one lives here anymore.

The interior of Bakula’s house is just as beautiful and modern as the outside. Sleek with small touches of nature here and there. And it’s clean, perhaps too clean. It barely feels lived in, though Lux knows Bakula inhabited this place for many years. This place had never been something Lux had wanted from the Praeduella, but after some discussions, he realized it would be the perfect location to conduct more private affairs.

Lux sighs, deposits his briefcase on the kitchen counter, and retires to the living room, sinking into one of the perfectly kept black, leather couches. He lets his abdominals relax, giving his prey more room to breathe.

It’s clear from the empty driveway that he’s the only one here for now. He checks the time. They’re late. He forces himself to stay calm. He doesn’t have much time to spare. He can already feel a small tingling in his core that indicates the neutralizers are wearing off and his stomach is coming back to life.

There’s nothing to do but stare at the wall as time ticks by. He can feel his stomach awakening more and more, growing excited by its fresh occupant. Every second that passes is a second that Lux wishes he had taken more neutralizers when he’d had the chance.

Finally, he can no longer take it. He stands suddenly, sending his prey into a surprised scramble. He’s not supposed to do this until the others arrive, but they’re taking too long and it’s putting his prey in danger. Without a second thought, Lux heads for the bathroom. He has no idea how he’s going to handle this situation, but he’ll just have to figure it out as he goes along.

Lux enters the bathroom. It’s large and open and spotless. He closes the door behind him, crosses the room, then falls to his knees next to the bathtub, bracing himself on the edge. No matter how many times he’s done this, he’ll never get used to it.

With a careful contraction of his abdomen, Lux begins the process of pushing his prey back up. He squeezes his eyes shut as his ribs are stretched from the bottom up and then a struggling mass is blocking his throat. The worst comes when his jaw is forced wide and the taste of his own stomach is on his tongue. Thankfully, it only takes a few uncomfortable heaves before the prey is tumbling free into the tub.

Lux leans back, gasping for air. From within the tub, the prey does the same, coughing and spluttering. When Lux manages to catch his breath, he looks down.

Melissa Koontz looks just as he had seen her an hour or so ago, only now, drenched as she is, she looks even more pathetic. She wipes her face off and glances up at Lux for the first time.

Her entire body stiffens.

Lux doesn’t dare to move a muscle. He is keenly aware of the way he looms over her, still clad in his Facility uniform.

“I don’t understand,” Melissa manages, her voice rasping. “I thought it was all going to be over.”

“It is,” Lux breathes, afraid to speak too harshly. “I’ve brought you somewhere safe. You’re free now.”

Melissa doesn’t answer for a long moment. Instead, she very cautiously pushes herself up to sit. She looks awfully small sitting at the base of the pred-sized tub. Her eyes flit about the room, taking it all in, though they never leave Lux for long.

“I don’t believe you,” she finally proclaims. “This is another trick.”

“It’s not a trick,” Lux insists.

“Then let me go.”

Lux’s expression drops. “I… can’t.”

Melissa’s eyes flash with sudden anger and hatred. Then, without warning, she launches herself out of the tub.

She nearly makes it, but Lux is quicker. He snatches her mid-air and shoves her back in. Melissa puts up a valiant effort fighting back. Lux has to dodge several kicks and punches and still ends up with a bite to the arm. But for however fierce her struggle is, it’s just as short. Her face is pale and her eyes shadowed as she goes limp and slumps back to the bottom of the tub.

Lux releases his breath and draws back enough to give her space.

“Please,” she says quietly as a tear slips down her cheek. “Please, either let me go or finish me.”

“Help is coming,” Lux promises. “I have two friends. They’re prey like you. They’ll get you out of here.”

Melissa’s lips press into a thin angry line and Lux can tell he doesn’t believe her.

“You’ll see,” he adds under his breath.

He eases back until he can sit on the floor, back pressed against the wall, right between the tub and the exit. If she tries to make a run for it again, it won’t be difficult to stop her. But for now, she remains still.

All Lux can hear is her quiet shivering, and as much as he wishes he could help, he knows it’s best to leave her be. For now, all he can do is sit and wait and hope that the one prey in the world who trusts him will arrive soon.

He tilts his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

Her distrust hurts, but it’s the price he pays for all he’s done. He only hopes that the good he’s doing now will someday come back to him. That one day, all the pain and suffering he causes will be worth it just to save a soul or two.

Maybe one day, somebody will finally save him.

* * * * * * * * * *

Six months. It’s been six months since everything had changed for Benji.

Now he sits impatiently in Camille’s car, checking the time every few seconds.

“Relax,” Camille finally says after Benji glances at the clock for the tenth time in a minute.

“We’re already late,” Benji notes under his breath.

“Not by a lot.”

“What if something goes wrong, and I’m not there to help?”

“What’s going to go wrong?” Camille questions. “We’re not that late. I’m sure he can hold off just a little longer.”

Benji grits his teeth and falls silent. He’s sure Camille is right. They’ve done this nearly a dozen times already, and it had gone smoothly each time. Since they’d become leaders of their respective sides, things like this had become exponentially easier. What is there to worry about when you only answer to yourself?

But then, Benji had discovered, the answer to that is: everyone.

When you’re the leader, everyone’s eye is on you. When you’re the leader, it only takes one wrong move for all the support holding you up to crumble entirely. And when you’ve lost all support and fallen as far as you can go, there’s nothing left to protect you from being crushed underfoot.

Every meeting like this is a risk. They cannot afford to grow careless.

When they finally arrive, Benji lets out a strained breath through his teeth. Felix’s car is already in the driveway, a reminder of their tardiness.

Benji doesn’t hesitate, he’s opening the door and jumping out as soon as the car comes to a stop. He hurriedly grabs a duffle bag from the backseat of Camille’s car and then he’s off in a rush.

Bakula’s house looms higher and higher above him the closer he gets. He knows the house has been empty for months now. He knows the threat that once lived there has been eradicated, but that doesn’t stop the dread that builds every time he’s anywhere near the place.

There’s something about the house… In a way, Benji is reminded of Felix’s childhood one. It’s large and fancy and has a certain threatening aura to it. But something about the threat of Bakula’s abandoned home is infinitely more daunting than the Feuerbach household. Maybe it’s the unfamiliarity. Maybe it’s the way the house is nothing but a shell anymore. Or maybe it’s simply the memory of the man who once lived there. Either way, a shiver runs down Benji’s spine each time he shoves his way through the front door.

He freezes once he gets inside. Felix is nowhere to be seen.

“Felix?” he calls into the empty house, heart racing.

“In here!” Felix’s voice calls back. “Quickly, please.”

Benji is on the move immediately. He knows exactly where Felix is, although he doesn’t know why he’s there already.

Benji stumbles into the oversized bathroom and is baffled by the scene he finds.

“You’re supposed to wait for me,” is the first thing out of Benji’s mouth. He’s supposed to be the one there to greet the prey as soon as Felix releases them. He’s supposed to be there to reassure them that everything is alright now, that they’re safe. Walking in to find Felix cornering an already traumatized prey in the bathroom is the last thing anybody needs.

“I know,” Felix answers, already standing up and edging past Benji to the door. “But you were late and the neutralizers were starting to wear off. I didn’t want her in there for that.”

Benji lets out a sigh of frustration. Of course this is all because they’re late.

“Well, just let me take care of it,” he snaps. “Camille was right behind me. She should be waiting in the living room.”

“Got it,” Felix says tearing open the bathroom door and stepping into the hall. Then he hesitates. “And sorry,” he adds.

Benji gives a dismissive wave as he lets the duffle bag slide from his shoulder. There will be time for apologies later. Thankfully, Felix seems to catch the hint and quickly closes the door. At last, Benji’s able to focus fully on the woman shivering in the bathtub.

Melissa Koontz. He knows who she is. Girlfriend of an arsonist who managed to kill several preds. She, of course, had only been caught in the crossfire, which is why Epomis is now stepping in.

“Melissa?” Benji says gently as he approaches.

The prey woman stares up at him, wide-eyed. She’s still soaked to the bone and consequently shivering.

“What… what is this?” she asks as she takes in the sight of Benji. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay,” Benji tells her gently. “My name is Benji Marotta and I work with Epomis.”

Melissa balks at his words but doesn’t interrupt.

“We know you were wrongly imprisoned at the Facility,” Benji presses on, “and we’re here to help you escape. Right now you’re at an Epomis safehouse while we get you set up for what happens next.”

“This a pred house,” Melissa speaks for the first time.

Benji stumbles over his well-rehearsed spiel. “It’s been abandoned. Epomis uses it now for exchanges like this.”

“But the pred who was just in here—”

“He’s with us,” Benji finishes. “He’s just really good at hiding it.”

The doubt is clear on Melissa’s face, but now there’s a small glimmer of hope in her eyes. That’s good, Benji thinks. Anything to get her to calm down and be more comfortable.

“Look,” Benji says in a rush, eager to see that hope grow. “I brought these for you.” He grabs up the duffle bag and tears it open. Inside, he shows her the new clothes he’s brought her, the soap, the clean towels, the hairbrush, the toothbrush, and the large collection of snacks and drinks. “I thought you might like these.”

Melissa sits up and her face alights at the small trove.

“I know you’ve been through a lot lately,” he tells her. “But we’re going to help you get through it. You may have escaped the Facility, but they’ll still be a danger to you. Thankfully, my sister is waiting out there for you. She’ll explain everything. You’ll… have to go into hiding, start a new life, but you’ll be safe. We hope that one day, though, you can go back to normal.”

For one moment, all Melissa can do is gape in disbelief. Finally, she manages, “None of this seems real.”

“I know,” Benji answers, truly knowing all too well. “But, for now, just trust me.” He carefully places the duffle bag next to the bathtub and eases back. “I’m going to give you some privacy to clean up now. My sister and I will be waiting for you in the living room when you’re ready, okay?”

Melissa nods, still looking uncertain.

Benji is ready to leave it at that when suddenly she gives a murmured, “Thank you.”

He can’t stop the small smile that crosses his face. “Of course,” he answers. “Now take care. I’ll see you soon.”

Benji closes the door behind him with a hesitant sigh. He’s not sure how much of her trust he’s actually gained, but at least it’s a start. Usually the prey they rescue don’t have such a rocky start in the safehouse, but he hopes that once she meets Camille and has things explained better, Melissa will start feeling comfortable again.

Benji steps away from the door and heads towards the living room. He’s still not entirely certain Melissa won’t try to run, but the bathroom door is visible from there. At the very least, if she bolts, Felix would be able to catch her before she gets that far (not that she needs the further trauma of a pred tackling her to the ground).

Camille and Felix are waiting in the living room when Benji arrives. The two of them sit on couches across from each other, speaking in low voices. From the tail end that Benji catches, it sounds like Camille is in the middle of updating Felix on Epomis’ first ever interspecies meeting. The small smile of approval on Felix’s face quickly drops to one of concern when he catches sight of Benji.

“What happened?” he asks in a rush. “Did you mange to calm her? To explain everything? I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you. I should have taken more neutralizers before I left…”

Benji raises a hand and Felix trails off. “Everything is fine,” he says. “She’s getting cleaned up now. Hopefully she’ll be out soon.”

Felix’s shoulders relax. “Okay,” he says slowly. “That’s good. And you know she can’t—”

“I know,” Benji finishes. “She can’t tell anyone what happened to her.”

Felix nods and clears his throat. “In that case, I think now would be a good time to share with you what I’ve found.”

Camille straightens in her seat. Benji takes the spot next to her.

Felix picks up the briefcase that had been leaning against his couch. He sets it on the coffee table and pops it open.

“I’m sorry I haven’t exactly been delivering on this front so far,” he starts as he rifles through the case’s contents. “But I don’t think the powers-that-be quite trust me yet. However, they can’t hold back on all company secrets from me forever. That and Lenora isn’t really on their radar, so she’s been doing some helpful digging of her own.”

Felix pulls out a clean, manilla folder and holds it up for both Marottas to see. “Here it is.” He plops it down on the coffee table with a satisfyingly dense THUD. “This folder contains every dirty, little secret the Facility has been holding on to that Lenora and I have been able to uncover. So far, at least. I’m sure there are others.”

Camille hesitates, then almost reverently, she picks up the folder and begins skimming through the pages.

“Is there anything in here that could get the entire Facility shut down?” Camille asks, eyes never leaving the file.

Felix shrugs. “Probably a handful of details. If not, we’re still looking. I’m sure we‘ll find something that will do the trick.”

Camille slows her skimming until she comes to a stop entirely, a single page still held delicately between her fingers. “If we manage to find something in here,” she starts quietly, “it will take some time to get it publicized to the point where other people care. Even then, it will be difficult to do without drawing suspicion to those involved, including you.” She snaps the folder closed entirely and looks up to meet Felix’s gaze. “But in the end, finally getting rid of the Facility will be more than worth it. Thank you. I understand what you’re risking, and it does not go without my gratitude.”

Felix nods. “Thank you, I—” He stops suddenly as his attention is suddenly drawn elsewhere.

Benji follows his gaze to find that the bathroom door is finally opening. Melissa Koontz peers cautiously out.

Felix stands suddenly. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” he announces as he hurriedly gathers his briefcase. Neither Benji nor Camille have time to respond before he’s disappeared from the room.

Camille and Benji exchange glances.

“I’ll get her,” Benji says before sliding off the couch and heading back towards the bathroom. Melissa takes a cautious step back as he approaches. Benji raises his hands.

“Hey,” he says gently. “You’re looking better.”

“Thank you,” she responds.

Benji jerks his chin towards the living room. “Come on,” he urges. “I want you to come meet my sister.”

Melissa’s eyes narrow, and for one fleeting second, Benji worries she might retreat back into the bathroom. Finally though, she steps out. Moving as calmly as possible, Benji leads the way back to the living room.

“This is my sister, Camille,” Benji says as they enter. “Camille, this is Melissa.”

Camille gives a winning smile. “It’s great to finally meet you, Melissa.”

A minute later, they’re all seated on the couch with Camille explaining everything, “We already have some papers ready to get you started on setting up your new life. After tonight, we’ll move you to another safe location while we also work on getting you a new place to live.”

Melissa’s face is pale as she listens. “So I’m just going to have to abandon my old life? Let everyone think I died in the Facility?”

Camille frowns. “If it’s discovered you’ve escaped, you’ll be taken back and our contact there would likely be compromised. We’re working on a solution that might allow you to someday return to your old life, but for now, yes, you’ll need to become someone new entirely.”

It’s a tedious conversation, one that Benji doesn’t find himself all too involved in. After several minutes of silence, he decides to quietly slip away.

He heads into the kitchen where he finds Felix sitting silently at the table, eyes unfocused, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“Hey,” Benji says, pulling out the chair next to him.

Felix blinks and watches him sit. “Hi,” he answers.

“How are you?”

A shadow crosses Felix’s face. “I’m… figuring things out.”

From the corner of his eye, Benji notes the way Felix’s hand flits to his stomach and digs in.

“What have you been figuring out?” Benji prods.

Felix’s jaw clenches and unclenches. “I’ve been… breaking my addiction.”

Benji blinks in surprise. This is news to him. “And how is that going?”

“It’s been going alright,” Felix admits. “I’m trying to survive off disposals alone, but sometimes I can’t quite make it. And even if I did, I don’t know what I’m going to do if we actually manage to close down the Facility. That would be everything… gone. I’d be on my own.”

Silence falls between them. After a moment, Benji reaches up to place a hand on Felix’s arm. He notes the way Felix tenses at his touch yet doesn’t pull away.

“Felix,” Benji says. “You’d never be alone. You’d have me.”

Felix’s eyes widen, and Benji can’t tell if it’s in disbelief or something more. So he continues.

“And you’d have Camille. And probably Lenora. And there are places you can go, groups you can join, other preds who are going through the same struggle.” Then at Felix’s snort of disbelief, he amends, “Well, maybe not on the same scale, but I guarantee they’ll understand you better than anyone else can.”

“Yeah,” Felix agrees under his breath. “Maybe.” And then he falls silent again, eyes downcast to the table.

Benji lets his hand fall away. “What are you thinking?”

Felix lets out a groan of frustration. “I don’t know if I… deserve all that. Even now, I’m sometimes not sure if I really want to let go of what I have at the Facility. That place makes me into a terrible person, but I… I’m not sure who I am without it.”

Benji leans forward and waits until Felix drags his gaze back up.

“Listen to me, Felix,” he says, voice low and serious. There’s a small bubble of righteous fury in his gut, and it only grows as he speaks. “I don’t know what you may or may not deserve, but I do know who you are. I know that you care, and I know that you want to do better. I know that, despite everything standing in your way, you’re doing what you can to be better. I don’t know about anyone else, but that’s what matters to me.

“And I know that change is scary, believe me, I know. I hardly recognize the person I was a year ago, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I know what I’m doing now is good and important. I’m helping a lot of people. And, for you, you’re doing all that you can with what you’ve been given. Keep doing that. Keep doing that until things get better. Keep doing that until you get better. Whatever changes you go through along the way, you’ll handle them. And for all the changes you don’t think you can handle, you won’t be going through them alone.

“You’re on the right path, Felix, even if it doesn’t quite feel like it right now. Trust me. I’m walking it right by your side.”

Felix opens his mouth to respond, but for one long moment, nothing comes out. The only thing he manages is a slight quivering of his lips. Finally, he draws a shaky breath and exhales a single word, “Benji…”

Benji takes that as his cue. He slides from his chair at the same time Felix does. In one unspoken movement, so smooth it almost feels rehearsed, they both entangle one another in an embrace.

It’s quiet and gentle and strong and secure. Despite his size, Benji holds up Felix. And despite his strength, Felix’s grasp is delicate.

And for that singular moment, it’s just the two of them wrapped together. The past is behind them and the future uncertain, but still they have each other. They have an understanding that perhaps neither of them will ever fully grasp. And they have a trust that will never fully be explained. It’s a bond so enduring, it has yet to be broken.