Food can be solved, right?

Theo stood perfectly still and waited for you to fix his tie. For some reason, Theo asked you to fix his tie today, instead of doing it himself. He watched you in the mirror, not at himself.

There was something about seeing you adjust his uniform, the same way you had for years, that made his chest tighten. You were always so careful with it, like it mattered to fix him just right.

And then there was how easily you could walk into a room full of strangers and come out with three new friends by dinner’s end, effortless charm that Theo both admired and relied on without shame. He doesn’t bother going to make friends himself, if you gained yourself a new friend, they are now his too, automatically.

“Have you studied the notes?” you asked. And Theo blinked, just once before remembering.

Right…Potion quizzes.

Of course. He'd studied all afternoon, trying to memorize every potion name, its purpose and other ingredients. But he hadn’t mentioned it. Why would he? Boasting wasn't his style.

He turned slightly toward you, hands tucked into his pockets now that the tie was fixed and perfect.

"I... yeah." he admitted quietly after a beat too long, a subtle sign of nervousness only you could read so easily. "I went over them last night, just in case."

His blue eyes flickered to yours briefly before dropping again, not out of shame or fear exactly… but because impressing you mattered more than anything and failing wasn't an option for someone like him who rarely tried at all outside schoolwork or dueling practice. And you, only hum in return, a way of showing your approval.

Well, he knew that small “Mhmm” of yours, low and warm like a contented sigh and it settled something in him. Approval from you wasn't given lightly. If Theo had studied hard enough to satisfy that quiet nod of yours? Then yes…he'd done good. It’s not anyone's fault your type is a nerdy dude with pretty eyes. He must keep up.

The halls were already filling with students chatting excitedly or nervously about the quiz, a mix of nervous energy buzzing through Slytherin green robes but Theo walked through it all quietly focused. He can’t afford to panic. Right now? He is thinking only about acing this damn test so you could be proud later without even having to say it.

By noon, students had gathered in the dining hall. Theo sat at the long Slytherin table like a shadow given form, still, silent, and utterly unapproachable. The seat beside him? Empty. Not because no one dared sit there, but because he’d claimed it. Always had. For years now, ever since you two share dorms and started choosing each other everywhere by habit. He didn’t speak. Didn’t glare harshly either, just that cool stare as if silently saying That seat is taken.

And everyone knew who for.

It wasn't possessive in an ugly way, it was routine by now, a quiet ritual between you both where he secured your place without being asked while pretending he wasn't doing anything special at all.

“How was it? Pretty easy right?” You entered the dining hall and immediately knew where to go…sitting down next to Theo and that’s the first thing that came to your mind. Just checking in post-quiz.

Theo looked up the moment you approached.

A flicker of concern passed through him before he masked it behind a nonchalant expression.

"It was... manageable" Theo said carefully, lying because if he admitted how hard those final questions were? You might worry you'd failed them all and been doomed since question five. Instead, he reached for one of the untouched bread rolls on his plate and pushed it toward you without comment. You just hummed and muttered something about being starving.

And Theo just watched you dive into the food with quiet satisfaction.

He hadn't missed that you'd skipped breakfast again. You always did it before tests, claiming a full stomach muddled your focus. It drives him mad, knowing you probably pushed through the hunger to do the test with your best performance.

Now here you were: finally eating like a normal person after hours of starvation during exams. He could practically see the tension in your shoulders melt away as you tore into the bread roll and reached for soup from one of the steaming bowls.

Without saying anything, Theo nudged his own shredded roast chicken closer to your side of the table, the plumpest piece and kept eating slowly beside you, occasionally sipping water but mostly just... observing how quickly hunger had taken over you.

With years of being next to you, Theo has noticed the pattern by now.

The way you ate, happy, relaxed bites, not rushed or nervous, meant one thing: you thought you’d done well. That quiet satisfaction in your chewing was all the confirmation he needed. However, if you didn’t do well on the test, you would throw a half-ass excuse to return to your shared dorm and sleep off.

Theo kept refilling your plate quietly. Another slice of roast beef here. A spoonful of mashed potatoes there. Then a buttered roll, placed gently on your plate while you’re busy yapping his ears off, like an offering.

“Is that Anastasia?” you smirked, and looked at the girl approaching their table side. Theo followed your gaze and immediately stiffened, just slightly.

Anastasia was walking toward them, her Slytherin robes perfectly pressed, a book tucked under one arm. She smiled brightly, always did and it reached her eyes in that warm way people had when they genuinely liked someone.

Anastasia…what’s to say about her? She’s almost perfect in every way: pretty face, good grade, pureblood, plays violin. Also the first one Theo talked to when he arrived at Hogwarts. They became friends in the first year when Anastasia decided to stick around because she found Theo’s company…comforting. When there’s heavy rain or loud thunder, she would come by the dorm and knock on it, seeking comfort because of her fear. And you don’t seem to mind, you let Anastasia have your bed while you sleep on the common room’s couch. Because you learned that she doesn’t get along well with her roommate. If not hanging with her perfect little friend group, she would be sticking close to you and Theo. You think she has the fattest crush on your roommate Theo and it never fades as the three of you grow older. But there’s something in your guts that believes Theo only lets her follow out of pity. He thinks Anastasia doesn’t have any real friends.

“Hey there Theo! How was the quiz?” She beamed, greeting in that soft voice of hers.

He swallowed hard, fingers tightening slightly around his fork before setting it down slowly. Anastasia’s crush has been growing stronger and stronger, not subtle anymore it makes Theo sort of…uncomfortable.

"Um." he muttered, trying not to sound too dry or dismissive. "It... went well."

That was all? That's what he gave after years of this girl being kind and thoughtful and perfect?

Meanwhile inside panic was settling in. Because how could he possibly give her attention when every time she smiled at him, all Theodore could think about was whether you would notice.

“Oh...I’m glad...there's a book event this afternoon and...uhm I have a spare ticket! Would you like to go with me?” Damn…girl pulled all of her bravery to say that.

Then Anastasia held out the spare ticket like it was a fragile thing, her fingers trembling just slightly, her cheeks flushed with courage. The book event was one of those rare ones hosted by one of the professors at school, rare first editions, signed copies from famous wizards, even a small exhibit on ancient artifacts. Most nerdy students would kill for an invite.

And she’d saved one…just for Theo.

She smiled nervously now, eyes wide and hopeful as they locked onto his face, the boy who never seemed to look at anyone twice… but always looked at you with that soft gaze when he thought no one noticed.

A beat passed. Then another. Theo’s throat went dry. His mind was calculating how to use his words correctly to reject her with respect until…

“YES... yes he would loveeee to go with you, Anastasia. It will be so fun” your yes was so loud, even some students turned their heads. And you dragged your love at the word love to calm the girl’s nerves. But…

The second you spoke, Theo’s head snapped toward you. What.

His eyes, ocean blue and usually so composed, widened. Not in anger, not quite… but in pure shock.

You had agreed for him. Without hesitation. Without even glancing at Theo first to check if he wanted to go.

Anastasia lit up instantly, her nervousness melting into radiant joy. "Really? Oh! That's wonderful!" She beamed between the two of you like she’d just won the lottery or better yet: secured a date with Theodore Nott himself.

Theo stayed frozen though, fork halfway back to his plate after being abruptly abandoned mid-bite by your sudden intervention. He wanted to beat your ass up so bad.

The moment Anastasia turned and rejoined her group of equally striking Slytherin girls, their laughter carrying over in a melodic hum, he felt something cold settle in his chest.

The feeling was more like... disorientation. Like reality had shifted without warning and now everything felt slightly off.

You, meanwhile, kept eating cheerfully, as if you hadn't just decided Theo’s social plans for him. “What's with your face? There's a date with a so-hot-and-gorgeous girl waiting for you and you’re sulking?” You snorted.

Theo blinked, once, twice like he’d just seen a ghost. The words so-hot-and-gorgeous bounced around his skull like they were in another language. Anastasia was… objectively beautiful. Intelligent, kind, popular, the kind of girl every Slytherin guy dreamed about asking to an event. And yet…

Yet here he was: staring at your careless hand-waving gesture instead of reacting with excitement or gratitude toward the date that had literally just fallen into his lap.

His jaw worked slightly before he finally spoke and when it came out? It wasn’t enthusiasm. It wasn't even polite.

"It's not a date." Theo said quietly, not harshly but firmly as if correcting someone who'd gotten something terribly wrong.

“It’s soooo like a date” you can’t help but push his button one more time.

Theo's expression darkened, not anger, but something quieter and more complicated.

You smirked like this was all some big joke, a fun little setup where Theo got to go on an adorable date with the prettiest girl in Slytherin. And honestly? Anyone else would’ve been thrilled.

But Theo wasn’t anyone else. "It's not." he repeated, voice low but steady and there was weight behind it this time

“Why are you upset? It's an opportunity to widen your social circle” you huffed and finish the rest of the stew in one big gulp. You had your point, Theo rarely engages in outdoor activities unless you were coming with him, other than you, he doesn’t bother hanging out with anyone else who can’t handle socialising like you do.

He watched you chew the last bite of bread like this was all so simple. Social circle. Right. As if he hadn’t spent years being perfectly fine with his current one, small, controlled, consisting of you, Draco’s group and a few library fellas. That’s it.

And now you wanted him to suddenly expand it? To go on a date-like outing with Anastasia just because she’d been nice for years?

It wasn't that he disliked her. She was lovely, smart, kind-hearted but Theo had never looked at her that way.

"I don't need to widen my social circle." he said evenly.

“It’ll be fun. Theo, I promise” you nudge him with your elbow. In your eyes, Theo is like a black cat. Never put effort in making new friends and just settle for what he has in hand now. Theo leaned back slightly from the nudge, avoiding physical contact like it burned. The word fun echoed in his ears, but it didn’t sit right. Not with this situation.

Fun was Quidditch matches where he’d stand in the Slytherin row and yell insults, trash talk at the opposing team when you’re on your broom chasing for your life. Fun was sneaking into the kitchens after curfew to steal treacle tart with you. Fun was quiet nights studying together by firelight with a cigarette in mouth.

Not… going on a pre-planned event with someone who clearly liked him romantically when his heart stupidly, hopelessly wasn’t even looking that way. He rubbed his thumb along the edge of his plate mindlessly before muttering:

"I don't want fun if I'm not actually interested.”

The silence between you two turned thick, charged like the air before a storm. Theo didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t snap or argue further. He just…turned away.

That glare? Brief but sharp as shattered glass—and it wasn't anger at Anastasia, not really.

It was hurt. The kind that stung quietly because you, the person whose opinion mattered more than anyone’s hadn't considered how Theo might actually feel about this. Instead of asking him first, you'd handed him over to someone else without hesitation… like Theo's feelings were irrelevant compared to social expectations. Like you were no longer possessive about others trying to be Theo’s friend in the first year because it’s just you and him against the world.

The afternoon passed quietly between classes, History of Magic and Transfiguration. Theo walked through the halls in silence beside you, not speaking unless necessary. The usual comfortable companionship was gone, replaced by a tense sort of distance. He answered when spoken to but didn’t initiate conversation.

And then came the book event.

Tables lined with rare books from various magical schools were set up around the vast open air space. A few professors stood near their displays explaining enchanted editions or historical texts, and students from Hogwarts as well as visiting schools wandered around browsing.

Theo stood near the back of the room, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

The limited ticket section was roped off, an exclusive area where students could meet their favorite authors. Theo knew every name on that guest list. And right now? He should’ve been excited.

This was his kind of thing, rare books, intellectual discussions, meeting people who shaped spells he studied every day. But instead… all he felt was hollow tension. Because in five minutes or so? Anastasia would arrive expecting him and you had basically forced this on him.

Theo’s gaze drifted automatically, habitually to you. He always sensed and quickly spotted you the next second you entered the room. Or anywhere.

And there you were: surrounded by people. Laughing. Talking with Draco Malfoy of all people, plus a few other Slytherins. Merlin, you even talk to students from other schools.

You fit right in everywhere, the effortless charm, the bright smile that drew others like moths to flame. You looked happy too. Completely unbothered by anything… including Theo’s absence.

Meanwhile Anastasia had just arrived, spotting him immediately and she started weaving through the crowd toward him with her ticket held up slightly.

“Hey Theo…I’m sorry you have to wait...these heels won't behave” She chuckled. So angel like.

Theo forced a small, polite smile. She was adorable. Truly. The way she apologized for being late because of her heels, so sweetly embarrassed about it and how effortlessly kind she seemed.

"Hi." he said back quietly, his tone softer than usual to compensate for the fact that he hadn’t been waiting eagerly.

He glanced down at her feet briefly, the elegant but clearly uncomfortable-looking heels and then away again before meeting her eyes properly.

"It's fine. I just got here."

Theo didn’t pull away when Anastasia took his hand boldly. She was enthusiastic…so excited about every book they passed. She’d squeeze his fingers and tug him toward displays with giddy little noises, like “Oh! Theo, look at this one!” and honestly? It wasn't so awful.

The famous author he admired spoke briefly on stage, a dry lecture about the evolution of wand core but Theo listened intently anyway. And for a few moments… he almost forgot to glance around for you in the crowd.

Anastasia bought him a first edition copy of Magical Theory: Foundations, something rare and expensive she clearly saved up for. When she handed it to him with that shy smile? He actually felt… touched.

Theo hesitated only a second before spotting the perfect book, a first edition of Ancient Magic: A Comprehensive History, signed too.

It wasn’t cheap. Not even close. But Anastasia had just given him something incredibly valuable, both financially and personally and he wanted to return the gesture.

Without saying anything, he paid for it discreetly at a private counter and waited until they were near a quieter corner away from crowds. Then, holding out the wrapped package with both hands, an unusual level of formality from someone usually so reserved, he offered it to her.

The walk back to the Slytherin girls' dorm was slow, mostly because Anastasia kept pausing to adjust her sore feet, wincing every few steps.

"Ugh, these heels are murder…" she groaned dramatically, not unkindly but Theo didn’t offer his arm or suggest carrying her like a gentleman in love might.

He just nodded quietly. "We're almost there."

And it wasn't cold. It wasn't rude either, just distant in that way he got when his heart belonged to someone else already.

Every word out of his mouth had been polite all evening. Pleasant smiles during author talks, soft thanks for gifts… but nothing beyond what basic dates demanded.

Because no matter how sweet Anastasia was or how nice this event technically went, his thoughts kept circling back to you.

Theo paused under the dim glow of the torchlight near her dorm entrance. Anastasia stood facing him, still smiling that warm, grateful smile, the kind that made most guys melt. Her eyes sparkled with genuine appreciation for spending time with him today.

"Thank you…" she says softly "for coming with me."

It was a simple sentence but sincere. She wasn’t asking for anything more than this moment of gratitude.

And Theo? He felt… guilty again

Not because he’d had a bad time, but because she clearly hoped this might lead to something romantic… and he knew deep down that it wouldn't.

The dorm was quiet when Theo returned, just the soft crackle of the fireplace and the rustle of pages turning.

Theo stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. The sight that greeted him: you sprawled on your bed, barefoot, one dangling off the bed, absorbed in a book you just bought from the book event.

You didn’t look up right away. Didn’t react to Theo’s return like usual. Instead? Just… reading. Peacefully ignoring everything else.

And suddenly it hit Theo again: This was where he belonged, right here with you, not walking another girl back to her dorm. This.

Then, you finally spoke up when Theo slips off his dark robe. “How was it? The cutest date with the most perfect lady in Slytherin?” You smirked

Theo kicked off his shoes by the door, thud, before walking over to his own bed.

He didn’t answer right away. Just sat down on the edge, loosening his tie with slow fingers while eyeing your smug, teasing expression.

Instead of biting back like he usually would when annoyed… Theo exhaled through his nose and said flatly.

"It was fine."

“Fine? Tell me something interesting” You rolled your eyes at his boring response.

Theo glanced at you, really looked at you for the first time since returning.

That eye roll. That impatient, spill it tone. Typical you when you wanted details but wasn’t gonna ask nicely.

Fine? Theo could’ve left it there… but something in him, maybe irritation, maybe the need to prove this date meant nothing made him actually respond.

"Anastasia bought me a rare book." he said casually, hanging his robe on a hook by their shared wardrobe.

Then added: "I got her one too. Signed by the author."

“Well, that’s real cute, nerd” you chuckled

Theo frowned slightly at the word cute.

It wasn’t at least, he didn’t think so. Buying books? Giving gifts? That was just… normal for people who liked literature. Not "cute" like some cheesy romance novel.

He shot you a look, half annoyance, half something else he wouldn't name.

But you kept chuckling, still curled up with your own book like Theo’s evening hadn't mattered at all. And suddenly it annoyed him more than Anastasia ever could have.

“You’re being hard to get. The girl practically spent years chasing you. She’s perfect in every way, too, why are you declining any of this?”

Theo’s jaw tightened.

Hard to get?

He wasn’t hard to get, he was selective. There is a difference. One implied he had no standards and just pushed everyone away, the other meant he actually cared about who he spent time with.

And "perfect in every way"? That sounded like you hadn't even seen Anastasia properly, just assumed she was flawless because she smiled a lot and gave gifts.

Without thinking, Theo snapped:

"She's not perfect." Too harsh? Maybe. But it burst out before he could stop it. Maybe she has been sticking around both of them because she can’t make a friend among the slytherin girls long enough, doesn’t mean you know her that much to be glazing her.

Theo's fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his bed sheet. That smirk…that stupid, knowing smirk. Was what made it worse. Like you found this whole situation amusing instead of serious.

He didn’t want Anastasia because she was pretty and popular, he wanted someone whose presence didn’t feel like a performance.

And that person… had been sitting right across from him for years without realizing it.

“I’m going to shower, damn. Walking through that crowd is torturous” You grabs

a pair of clothes and go to the communal bath. Usually, Theo would follow. They stick together in every activity.

Theo watched you leave, clothes in hand, heading for the communal baths. And just like that… he was alone again.

Normally, Theo would’ve followed without hesitation. You two always do things together: studying, eating meals, walking to class but tonight? After the whole Anastasia thing?

He didn’t move right away. Just sat there on his bed as the door clicked shut behind you. The silence felt heavier than usual. Not tense exactly… but strange No footsteps trailing after you down the hall.

The next morning, Theo woke up feeling... off.

Not sick, just wrong. Like his skin was too tight or something under it had shifted overnight. He couldn’t pinpoint the discomfort exactly, but he knew why.

You were pushing him away subtly. Giving him opportunities to socialize with others like Anastasia because you thought Theo needed a "wider circle." Except that wasn't what Theo wanted at all

He wanted you. Badly. Not new friends. Not dates arranged by well-meaning roommates who didn't understand anything.

And now this distance? This one-day break in their usual routine? It itched worse than any spell gone wrong. Feels like something is crawling under his skin, he feels uncomfortable.

The morning routine was the same, brushing teeth, changing into uniform, gathering books but everything doesn’t feel the same.

Theo moved quietly beside you like always: same pace down the hall to class, same silent walk through corridors crowded with students. But where he used to match your steps effortlessly…almost shoulder-to-shoulder. Now they were half a step apart. And it wasn’t just physical distance.

It was how Theo kept glancing at you when you weren't looking. How his fingers tapped restlessly against his book cover during Charms class nervously, something he never did because he feels at ease next to you. How could a man who lives by routine like him survive this?

But you? Oblivious. Still chatting lightly with Draco or other classmates without noticing Theo's tension.

Not to mention the other day, Theo froze halfway down the corridor. The Quidditch pitch was just behind and you, still sweaty from practice, hair damp at the temples had caught someone’s attention. Happens everyday.

A Hufflepuff girl rushed over with a water bottle and a towel. She smiled brightly as she handed them to you, clearly excited about seeing you up close after practice.

And you? Ever the polite social butterfly? took it all with that easy grin of yours, the one Theo knew too well and thanked her warmly

“That’s so thoughtful…thank you. What’s your name?”

Something hot flared in Theo's chest. Not anger exactly... but discomfort. A tightness he couldn't name when she handles you a bag of dessert.

Theo’s eyes locked onto the bag of cookies.

Chocolate chips. Still warm, probably fresh from the Hufflepuff kitchens. The girl had baked them herself, you could tell by how carefully she’d wrapped them in parchment paper tied with a yellow ribbon.

And she handed them to you like an offering, a sweet, thoughtful gesture that was so very Hufflepuff. You got her name, Marie, cute.

"Oh wow you baked these yourself?…this smells amazing. I can already tell you’re a great baker, Marie" you said brightly. Your words? Are heaven to the girl.

Theo’s face burned. Not from anger exactly but something far more. A possessive heat surged through him, hot and irrational, making his eyes twitch his jaw lock tight.

There were you: sweaty, smiling, accepting gifts like chocolate chips cookies baked with affection… from some Hufflepuff girl who clearly liked you. And Theo? Standing there. Saying nothing. Just watching as another person handed you something sweet, a love language he didn’t even speak. His hands curled into fists at his sides without meaning to.

Draco leaned against the common room’s armchair, watching Theo storm in with that murderous frown on his face.

It was almost comical…Theo Nott? The usually cool-headed and aloof nerd? Looking like he wanted to set someone on fire.

"Damn…" Draco drawled sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. "Who ate your owl?"

The jab was light, typical Malfoy teasing but there was genuine curiosity underneath. Even he could tell something had upsetted Theo badly. Theo didn’t even glance at Draco. He kept walking, past the couches, past the torches and headed straight for his shared dorm without a word. Draco blinked. That was… cold. Even for Theo. Most days, he’d at least grunt in response to a comment like that, but today? Nothing. Just silence and an expression so dark it could’ve cursed someone on sight.

"Bloody hell…" Draco muttered under his breath before turning back to Crabbe and Goyle who were lounging nearby.

Whatever happened… it must’ve been bad. Really bad.

Hogwarts glowed with Christmas magic, red and green fabrics wrapped around staircases, enchanted snowflakes drifting through the halls, and twinkling lights strung across every corridor.

It was you two’s favorite time of year.

Every winter before break, you and Theo had a quiet little tradition: you’d exchange secret gifts, nothing extravagant…just thoughtful things, wear matching pajamas for movie night with hot chocolate where Theo would fight you to pick his favourite muggle show, then go back to whichever house you two were staying at over winter break.

Last year? You both went to your manor. The year before that, the Nott manor. This routine wasn’t announced or planned publicly… just something you two did. Quality time.

The whispers started subtly, then exploded.

Girls in the Slytherin dorms began to spread things about you being a womanizer, and boast about how you speak so lowly of women among the campus.

Anastasia had been friendly with you up until now, grateful even for your help setting her up with other guys but when she overheard two Slytherin girls gossiping about “He totally said girls are pathetic and hopeless! He really thought all we care about is boys!" during breakfast…Her face went pale. Then red. Then furious. Anastasia has a strong sense of feminism so…She stopped speaking to you entirely. As well as your female friends.

The tension in the Slytherin common room thickened like frost on glass.

You didn’t understand why Anastasia suddenly avoided you, no smiles, no greetings, not even a glance your way during meals. She used to laugh with you about boys she liked, now she walked right past as if you were invisible.

And Theo? He was volcanic. You were walking on thin ice 24/7. Literally

Every time you tried to casually ask what was going on,Theo snapped or went silent. His moods swung wildly: cold when someone mentioned her name, irritable during study hours. Eventually, you had enough.

Theo woke up in the middle of the night. The dorm was quiet, bathed in the soft blue glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains. He blinked before his eyes landed on your empty bed. But something felt off. Theo sat up slowly, running a hand through his messy hair before standing and sleeping in his shoes.

Without thinking much, other than assuming you had gone to meet someone, Theo slipped out of the room and followed silently down the halls.

The castle was hushed at this hour, only the faint hum of enchanted decorations and the occasional creak of old stone floors.

Theo moved quietly, his steps light as he followed your silhouette. He didn’t know why exactly, maybe just habit, or maybe something deeper nagging him to check.

Up the stairs… past portraits that snored softly… toward the astronomy tower, their usual spot when either wanted space but not loneliness. When Theo reached the top door, it wasn't fully shut. A thin gap remained and through it: a sliver of pale moonlight... and you are leaning back against the marble rail, not fully sitting, alone with a cigarette in mouth.

“I know you're following me, Theo” you snorted.

Theo paused just outside the door. He didn't mean to get caught, wasn’t even sure why he’d come up here in the first place but you called him out so casually, like it was obvious. And then… that pat-pat on the empty space beside you. An invitation.

For a second, Theo hesitated. He wasn't mad at you, not really but everything between them felt tangled lately: Anastasia's coldness, unspoken tensions over girls and gifts and whatever stupid rumor was going around. But still... he stepped inside.

“Are you going to go all cold shoulder on me this time or are we gonna talk?” you say calmly.

Theo took the cigarette without a word, plucking it straight from your fingers and brought it to his lips. A sharp inhale. The tobacco burned slightly, grounding. He exhaled slowly, smoke curling into the cold night air between them before glancing sideways at you.

The "cold shoulder" comment stung because… yeah. He had been distant lately, not on purpose or maybe he was… but still.

Instead of answering with some dramatic speech about feelings? Theo just passed the cigarette back silently.

“Talk, Theo. Tell me what's going on.” you say, taking a puff yourself.

Theo stared at the sky, stars scattered like dust across the velvet black. The silence stretched, heavy with everything he hadn’t said. He took another slow drag of the cigarette before passing it back. Sharing a muggle cigarette was one of his favourite activities with you.

Then, finally: "Anastasia hates you now."

He didn’t look at you when he said it, just kept his gaze upward but his voice was quieter than usual, almost... tired. He knew how that affected you. You have a load of female friends, you’re a people person and cherish every friend you have. So, naturally, you almost collapse when they suddenly turn their back against you.

“Woop. That's unavoidable when there's an unsolved misunderstanding. But I don't want to talk about Anastasia.” you huffed, shrugging. “Tell me about you.”

Theo exhaled slowly, the smoke dissipating into the winter air. About him.

That was… complicated. Theo wasn’t one for opening up, never had been. He kept things close to his chest, especially feelings.

He hesitated before speaking again, voice low and measured like he was choosing each word carefully:

"I don't like seeing you with other girls.” he tried. Wondering if the message gets through your head. He is in love with you. For Merlin’s sake.

“Huh…I’m with girls all the time. You never said a thing before”

Theo’s jaw tightened. Swimming in girls’ attention. Yeah. You had always been like that: popular, easygoing, effortlessly charming without even trying. Girls liked you from day one. Some became your best friends because of your humor.

And Theo? He never cared before because it was just… you. His best friend since first year. It didn’t bother him when random girls flirted with you, he’d roll his eyes and joke about it.

But lately…Lately something shifted

He turned his head slightly to look at you properly for the first time that night, the moonlight catching on his features and muttered:

"It started bothering me recently.”

“Why?” You asked.

Theo’s breath hitched. The question hung there and for the first time in his life, he felt completely exposed.

He couldn’t lie. Not to you. Never to you.

So instead of deflecting or changing the subject like he usually would… Theo turned fully toward you and said it plainly:

"I think I'm in love with you."

No dramatic buildup. No poetic metaphors or romantic gestures…just quiet honesty under a winter sky. And then? He waited, heart pounding harder than any Quidditch match ever made it. He never thought he would ever say his feelings out loud. But it has been making it hard to breathe for Theo, carrying such an ugly feeling in his chest.

The cigarette wobbled dangerously between your fingers, almost slipping into the snow below but you caught it just in time.

Your eyes were wide. Really wide. Not shocked in a bad way, more like… stunned silent. Like your brain had short-circuited and couldn’t process what Theo just said. For someone who always had a quick joke or sarcastic remark ready, this? This was new territory. You didn't move for several seconds, just stared at Theo like he'd grown a second head or maybe like you yourself were dreaming.

“...I’ve never noticed.”

Theo watched your face, every flicker of emotion crossing it. That quiet confession hit Theo harder than he expected. Not rejection, not yet but disbelief? Realization dawning?

Maybe you had been too busy being you, the popular, effortlessly-liked guy to ever consider that your best friend could feel this way about you. Merlin, you thought…

And now here they were: two idiots who’d spent years sharing everything… except romantic feelings. Theo swallowed hard before speaking again, his throat feels like hundred of thorns are stuck in it, voice softer:

"Yeah... I know.”

Not from the cigarette, no, this was different. This was nerves. The kind that came when your entire world hinged on one person’s next words. And Theo? He couldn't read you at all. So instead of explaining feelings which always felt messy, he just admitted the raw truth:

"The feelings are... uncomfortable." Because loving someone who might not love you back? That sucked. Losing a dear friend…and a crush. Theo’s chest tightened. The question wasn’t harsh, just quiet, careful. Like you were stepping on thin ice.

“Do you want them to go away?”

No. Hell no.

Theo didn't want his feelings gone, even if they made everything complicated now. Even if he had to watch you flirt with other girls or see Anastasia glare at his best friend from across the Great Hall.

He shook his head slowly before answering:

"No…I never want that feeling to ever go away."

So you decided to listen to your heart for once. The kiss was feather-light, just the brush of lips against the corner of Theo’s mouth but it electrified him. He froze.

For a second, he didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Couldn't process that you, the person he'd loved for Merlin knows how long without realizing it himself…had just kissed him.

And not on the cheek … but there. Close to his actual mouth.

Then Theo turned into it instinctively, chasing your lips with sudden urgency and pressing their mouths together properly this time.

The kiss deepened slowly, naturally. One second he was hesitating at the edge of something new… and the next, their lips parted against each other properly. Theo kissed you with years’ worth of pent-up longing, gentle but hungry, his hands lifting to cradle your face like you were something precious. And you? You kissed back just as eagerly, like you’d been waiting too without knowing it. The cold night air didn't matter anymore.

Theo kisses you harder, almost desperate as he pins you gently against the cold stone pillar behind.

The contrast was there: freezing marble at their backs versus the heat of their mouths meeting over and over. No space between them now. You gasped into the kiss when Theo crowded closer, one hand sliding into his hair while the other gripped his back to keep him there. He leaves you no space to breathe until he pulls back.

Theo’s hands stayed cupping your face, thumbs brushing lightly over your cheekbones as he asked the question that mattered most…His voice was low, steady, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes that betrayed how much this answer meant to him.

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

Not "Will you be mine" bullshit or some vague romantic lines. Theo wanted clarity. A label. Permission to be yours properly now. And he waited, heart hammering for your response.

“Yes…yes you can” you gasped for air with a cocky smirk.

Theo’s entire face lit up.

That smirk…your stupid, perfect, heart-stopping smirk coupled with the "yes" hit Theo like a rough Bludger to the chest.

For someone who usually stayed composed even when nervous, his expression melted into pure relief and joy. Without another word, he kissed you again, this time softer but no less intense. A proper boyfriend kiss now. No confusion left between them.

The common room was dimly lit, just the low glow of the dying fire casting shadows. Theo had expected it to be empty like when he left. Most Slytherins were in bed by now, especially after curfew. But as he carried a half-asleep you on his back, your arms loosely around his shoulders, face nuzzled into Theo, two pairs of eyes locked onto them instantly.

Draco and Blaise sat across from each other near the fireplace, both frozen mid-conversation upon seeing them enter like this. Blaise raised an eyebrow slowly. Draco? His mouth actually dropped open, followed by a huge smirk “I told you, it’s about time”

Blaise just nodded, slowly like this explained everything he’d ever wondered about Theo and you.

Draco looked way too smug. He leaned back in his armchair with that trademark Malfoy smirk, the one that screamed I called it first.

"Took you two long enough though…congrats" he drawled, glancing between them like the walking proof of his earlier teasing. No need for Theo to announce, they can already tell by that blush and kiss swollen lips. Theo ignored Draco’s smirk, mostly because he was too busy focusing on the fact that you are his boyfriend now and not worrying about what anyone thought.

Winter at the manor was a blur of magic and warmth. Theo and you spent days rolling through powdery snow like kids, building clumsy snowmen, having snowball fights that usually ended in breathless laughter, then warming up inside.

Evenings were cozy: massive fireplaces roaring in the dining hall, hearty meals served by house-elves: roast meats, vegetable stew, years-old wines, buttery breads, etc. The family dinners were lively with conversation. Followed by hot sex in the shower, trying to be quiet so no one would know, as skin clapping noise echoes softly in your bathroom laced with breathless gasp in pleasure.

The stargazing room was Theo’s favorite spot in the manor. High up, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows that showed a perfect night sky. It was quiet here. Private. No servants patrolling, no family members interrupting, not like they pay attention. Just them and the soft glow of constellations above. Theo would die to keep this close to himself.

Theo had pulled you into this room after dinner under some excuse about "needing air" but really? He just wanted to kiss you without an audience. A Leg pressed between yours as he let you dry humps, hot kisses shared under the stars. His hand clumsily tries to zip your pants down without looking as his mouth crashes on yours.

The cold marble pillar bit into your back, but Theo crowded closer anyway, kissing you like he hadn't in days even though it had only been hours. Your thick sweater hits the floor with a soft thud as you complain “It’s cold, asshole.”

And when he felt that shiver run through you? Theo kissed you harder. His lips moved from your mouth to the jaw, then down to that sensitive spot on your neck. He sucked lightly, leaving faint marks against warm skin. Body heat will work, eventually. So no more complaints.

Theo always looks forward to Halloween.

While others celebrated with extravagant decorations and feasts, Slytherins turned the common room into a party, mischievous, rowdy. Alcohol was smuggled in, mostly firewhisky or cocktails and the music got louder as the night went on. Everyone wears their own unique costume. And Theo? He’d usually sit back with a drink… until you showed up.

“You didn’t wait for me” you scolded in annoyance.

There you are: you in a perfect Aziraphale costume. Perfectly tailored trenchcoat, trousers and waistcoat share the same cream white color, blue buttoned up shirt and a bow tie, even that signature cute curls styled just right.

Meanwhile Theo? Crowley. Black blazer, trousers and waistband paired with a grey necktie. The black sunglasses are the cherry on top, making him look so like Crowley.

"I waited!" Theo protested, but it wasn't true. He'd gotten bored and wandered down an hour ago. Now he stared at you like an idiot.

“I WaItEd” you mocked him. Theo narrowed his eyes at the ridiculous tone. so childish. but he couldn’t stay mad. Not when you looked like that.

“Black always looks sooo good on you though. It’s unfair” you huffed playfully, admiring his Crowley outfit.

Theo smirked. Yeah, he knew. The dark blazer hugged his frame perfectly, and the whole bad demon vibe worked for him. He reached up slowly and pushed the sunglasses down just enough to peer over them at you with a lazy grin.

"Says the walking cloud of holy light" Theo shot back, voice dripping with playful sarcasm before leaning in for a kiss.

The group of friends drag them to the side of the room to play spin the bottle. Pansy kept toying with the digital camera she got from the old market, snapping pictures of everyone until “I need more drinksss” she whined. She nudged you to go get some and you agreed. Theo quickly follows after.

Pansy’s loud, teasing shout echoed across the common room, earning a chorus of laughter from the rest of the group.

"Enjoy your cocktail... heavy on the cock!" She yells, grinning like an idiot.

You flipped her off, middle finger held at Pansy and Theo snorted at that before following you toward the drinks table.

The party dies down by 12 AM, most people are too drunk or tired to keep going.

Spin the bottle had been chaotic, Theo only kissed you, ignoring whoever else the bottle pointed at, and now they were both buzzing with leftover energy.

When Theo finally tugged you toward their dorm, no one stopped them. Draco just raised an eyebrow but said nothing, already half-asleep on a couch talking to Blaise. The halls were quiet as they walked back together, still in costume: Aziraphale and Crowley wandering Hogwarts like a misplaced angel and devil.

Theo didn’t hesitate. The second the door shut behind them, he is on you, hands cradling your face as he kisses you deeply, pressing him gently against the door. Fueled by drinks and dancing and hours of wanting to do this all night.

Theo kisses you between every layer of clothing he removes, first the cream trench coat, then the waistcoat underneath, buttons undone with impatient fingers.

Each piece hit the floor quietly. A steady stream of kisses: on the collarbone when shirt came off, shoulder as he slipped it down your arms.

The soft patter of rain against the dorm window created a quiet, private world, muffling sounds, blurring reality

Theo shed his own Crowley costume fast, blazer tossed over a chair, necktie pulled off in one smooth motion. No patience left after hours of waiting and teasing glances all night.

He was eager. Really eager.

Theo’s mouth crashed into yours again, hot, hungry as his hands mapped every inch of exposed skin..

One hand slid up your bare back while the other gripped your hip possessively pulling their bodies flush together. The rain outside grew heavier, a steady rhythm against the glass like nature itself was keeping their secrets.

Thunder booming, lightning flashing across the sky. Anastasia would’ve normally shown up at their dorm by now, knocking frantically for comfort. It’s been like that for years since the first. But not tonight.

Tonight? Theo didn’t even think about her. His focus was entirely on you, on the way you spread your legs slightly in anticipation after Theo fingered you with lube, breath hitching as Theo fumbled with the condom packet between his lips.

Theo’s fingers tremble as he rips the condom, too. drunk, aroused, nervous excitement making him clumsy. It took way longer than it should’ve: tearing the wrapper with his hand, then carefully rolling it down. His hands shook slightly, not from fear, but from sheer anticipation.

You watched him through half-lidded eyes? patient despite their shared heat between them. The storm outside thundered louder now. Not like Theo minded.

Theo moves carefully, slow, deliberate as he pushes his cock into you. Every inch was measured, giving you time to adjust. No rush despite their shared arousal and the storm’s chaos outside. His hands stayed gentle on your inner thighs, warm strokes meant to soothe any tension or nerves.

“Don’t be gentle.” You muttered, breath filled with alcohol. Too much alcohol you drank earlier. “Fuck me ‘til I can’t breathe”

Theo’s breath hitched at your words. No gentleness, just fucking and something sparked in him. The smirk on your face? That challenge? Yeah. Theo could do that.

Without another second of hesitation, he shifted his grip, one hand bracing beside your head while the other hooked under your thigh and picked up the pace instantly.

The bed creaked with each movement, Theo’s thrusts deep and relentless, fueled by the alcohol coursing through them.

Every snap of his hips was sharp, uncoordinated but hard, only pure physical need. You arched beneath him, breath coming in short gasps, the storm outside drowned out by their shared sounds: skin against skin, the rustle of sheets, rough moans. Neither cared about anything else right now.

Theo groaned at the sting of your nails raking down his back…good, grounding him.

Every time he pulled back almost all the way, it was just to slam into you again completely, over and over. A relentless rhythm that made the headboard knock softly against the wall. Your moans were music, soft but desperate and Theo chased them like they were his new addiction.

Theo locked onto that sweet spot like he’d been aiming for it all night, relentless, brutal in the best way. You can’t help but clench tight around him every time he thrusts deep into you, punching another breathy moan out of your lungs.

One hand gripped your hip hard to hold you steady with every deep thrust, while the other braced beside your head for balance. He pounds into your hole like a man possessed, sweats rolling on his forehead now. Your whimpers were muffled by Theo's lips when they crashed together again, messy, open-mouthed kisses between ragged breaths as your thighs began to tremble. You only breathe out “Don’t stop-!” And that’s all Theo needs to know.

Draco took a swig from his bottle, shivering slightly in the common room’s chill, his words lazy and half-drunk as he leaned back on the soft couch.

"Bet Theo is still going at it" he snickered to Blaise, nodding toward the dorm staircase with a smirk. "Might get to see Y/N walking funny tomorow" he snorted

Right then, Anastasia crept past them, pillow clutched to her chest. Her eyes were red-rimmed, thunder had woken her again. She hated storms. Hearing Draco’s comment? It hit like lightning itself. Anastasia froze mid-step.

Draco’s joke, casual, playful about Theo and you still fucking hit her like a physical blow. Her chest tightened. The thunder outside was deafening now, but it wasn’t just that noise making her hands tremble. She stood there in pajamas, pillow crushed to her chest… and suddenly had nowhere safe to go. Not even her friends understand her fear of thunder and storm. Usually? She'd run to Theo for comfort during storms. But tonight? He clearly wasn't coming out.

Draco’s drunken grin faded the second he saw Anastasia standing there: pale, tear-streaked, clutching that pillow like a lifeline.

Shit.

His joke hung in the air, ugly, sexual and unfiltered. He hadn’t meant for her to hear it… but now she had.

Blaise tensed beside him, shooting Draco a you idiot look as silence stretched between them all. Anastasia just stood frozen, heartbroken by Theo’s absence and by what she'd overheard.

Her grip on the pillow turned white-knuckled. Every ounce of jealousy and resentment she’d been quietly nursing toward you exploded at that moment.

You weren't just Theo’s boyfriend now…no, you’d taken her safe space too. The one person who used to comfort her during storms was occupied. By you.

And worse? Draco's joke implied they were…. Not just holding hands or talking, something far more intimate. Her lip trembled…not from fear of thunder anymore, but from fury. You were the one who tried to set her up with Theo and now?

Theo collapsed beside you, both of them sprawled out like wrecked starfish, limbs heavy with exhaustion. You were breathless by now, thighs slowly stretch forward to relax your tensed body.

The storm still raged outside, thunder rumbling but neither cared now. The adrenaline had burned off into something peaceful.

Your chest rose and fell slowly, Theo turned his head slightly to glance at you, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

“Fuckk…” you whined, gasping for air. The burn of pleasure in your lower stomach slowly fades. But still very present.

Theo exhaled a quiet laugh…same.

The heavy limbs, the faint soreness… all signs of what they’d just done. No regrets. He shifted slightly onto his side to face you properly, propping himself up on one elbow. Their eyes met, no teasing now. Just soft exhaustion and something warmer beneath it. Without thinking too hard about it, Theo reached out and brushed damp hair from your forehead.

Then Theo reached for the small portable CD player on his nightstand, the one he’d snuck from Doyo Alley’s Muggle music section months ago.

He slipped in a Cigarettes After Sex CD and pressed play. The first track “K.” drifted into the room: soft guitars, warm vocals, meaningful lyrics. The storm outside had gentled to a peaceful rain now, pattering against the window like background lullaby. Perfect timing. The music wrapped around them as they lay there, no rush to move.

“You don’t know how much I want to kiss you stupid right now” you muttered. The soft melody makes you weak, your heart swells a little at the lyrics. Theo bought the CD the moment he laid his eyes on it. Perfect for their shared night like this.

Theo paused mid-motion, lighter flickering as he lit the cigarette, then looked over at you. That huff of his was so familiar. So fond, even when complaining. And Theo? He hadn’t known either. Not fully. But now… here they were. After months of pining, after finally being together…He took a slow drag before leaning in to kiss you anyway, the smoke faintly bitter from the tobacco.

Theo let you take the cigarette without protest, watching as his boyfriend brought it to his lips for a slow drag. The act felt intimate somehow. Sharing something so simple, yet meaningful after what they’d just done.

Smoke curled between them in the dim light from the CD player’s soft glow. The music still played “K.” by Cigarettes After Sex filling their quiet dorm with warmth. The band has become one of his favourites now.

Theo didn’t reach to steal it back. He just… looked at you with admiration and love. He feels…enough.

Theo’s chest tightened, bloomed, like a flower cracking through concrete.

It wasn’t just attraction or physical closeness anymore. It was love, real, overwhelming love for the idiot currently holding his cigarette and looking at him with sleepy eyes. The music played on. The rain kept falling softly outside.

“I love you so much, Theo” you muttered, smoke curls around you like fog. So beautiful.

Theo’s breath caught. Hearing those words…so raw, so honest makes his heart stops a beat. His eyes searched your face, the smoke drifting from your lips, the way you looked wrecked in the best possible way. Loved and loving back.

Without a word, Theo leaned in and kissed you again, slowly this time. Deeply. Pouring everything into it. He’s ready to give you his soul if you ask nicely and promise a kiss after.

Theo had spent years, years feeling nothing. Just numbness. His childhood home was cold, emotionally barren. His mother died too soon, his father absent even when physically present. He’d built walls around himself out of necessity, not to be cruel, just to survive.

But here? With you… love wasn’t some distant concept anymore. It was alive. A living thing between them.

And for the first time since he was a little boy? Theodore Nott felt whole.

Theo didn’t hesitate. When the moment came, right after their kiss, with smoke still lingering in the air between them, he simply said it back. Honestly. Not because he was pressured to say it back.

"I love you too."

“Are you seriously asking me that when we’re in the middle of a make out session?” Clark squinted at you, his glasses left on the bedside table.

You smirked as you continued to unbutton your shirt. “Come on Kent, it’s prom. The one night that practically screams fuck high school, we’re out of here.”

“You know I don’t like it when you swear.” Clark pouted, making you pull him in for another kiss.

You chuckled against his lips. “Sorry.”

You barely remembered how your relationship with Clark turned into secretly making out in each other’s bedrooms when the parents weren’t around.

The both of you used to have sleepovers all the time growing up so it didn’t cause suspicion for either of your parents when the door’s closed and locked.

One day you walked into Clark’s bedroom with a frown on your face after complaining about how most of your classmates already had their first kisses.

You had then turned to Clark with an idea and told him to kiss you.

“I just want to get this over with, I don’t get what the big deal is about-“

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before Clark interrupted you with his lips without much convincing.

A bite to your chest wakes you up from memory lane, making you yelp and glare at a grinning Clark.

“Where’d you go, bozo?”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend. “Okay just because my dad used to travel with a circus, doesn’t mean you can use that against me.”

Clark chuckled. “No disrespect to your father, he’s a great magician. You on the other hand are a total clown.”

You gasped pushing him off you, the sound of his laughter ringing in your ears as you try to get off the bed.

Unfortunately Clark was faster than you, his hands pulling you back into bed. You huffed in annoyance, looking up at his stupid smirk when your back hit the pillows.

“Get off me, you geek!” You started laughing when Clark bends down to smother you with kisses.

He then directs his mouth to your neck again, making you whimper as his kisses go down to your chest.

“I’m sorry for calling you a clown. How about I apologise by doing the thing you love.” Clark says against your chest before going to one of your nipples and latching his mouth onto the nub.

You were a moaning mess as Clark alternated between your nipples. The both of you glad Clark’s parents weren’t home at the moment to hear your whimpers and cries.

You feel Clark tugging on your pants to take them off, along with your underwear before he wraps his hand around your cock.

He stroked you slowly as his mouth was still playing with your nipples, moaning when you tugged on the back of his hair from the pleasure.

When your breathing quickened, Clark stroked you faster knowing that you were close to completion.

You moaned as you came into his hand, some of it splattering on your exposed stomach.

Clark grinned down at your blissed out expression as he licked the juices off clean off his hand.

“Someone must’ve had pineapple for lunch.”

You groaned as you covered your hands with your face at his teasing before you pulled him in for another kiss, rolling over so now Clark was on his back on the bed while you were on top of him.

You quickly got his pants and underwear off before wrapping both your hands around Clark’s cock.

Clark moans once your fingers touched his sensitive cock, his head already spewing out pre-cum that you used as lube while you gave him a handjob.

You leaned in to give Clark a kiss before an idea popped into your head.

“Hey, I was thinking that maybe this time I could do more?” You whispered against his lips, Clark furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

Before he could ask what you meant, his eyes widened when you went lower on the bed so you could rest your upper half on his legs.

“When we started this, I didn’t know you were packing such mighty equipment Kent but it did cross my mind to see how much I can swallow this bad boy down.” You teased Clark who was gazing at you with hooded eyelids.

You leaned down, giving a small kiss on the head of his cock making Clark’s cock twitch in your grip and you smiled up at him.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes?”

Clark could only nod dumbly before closing his eyes in pleasure when you took him into your mouth.

It was weird at first, having your mouth be occupied by something that wasn’t food as you sucked on the head, the pre-cum squirting on your tongue.

It was slightly salty but you found that you didn’t mind it, it was almost addictive as you began to take more of Clark into your mouth.

You closed your eyes and breathed through your nose as you took more of him into your throat, to your surprise Clark suddenly shoots out his seed into your throat with a groan.

You stayed calm as you swallowed, causing Clark’s whole body to twitch at the sudden suction on his sensitive cock before you pulled back, letting it fall out of your mouth.

You took a breath and grinned down at Clark who was covering his face with his hands.

You snorted as you went back up on the bed to pull his hands from his face, Clark frowning at you with a blush on his cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him.

Clark sighed. “I just didn’t expect to cum so soon but your mouth was so warm and nice that I couldn’t control it. I’m so sorry, I should’ve warned you.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Relax, I’m fine and to be honest I’m kinda impressed by what I can do with my mouth now.”

“Yeah well, thanks for that. I didn’t think my first time getting a blowjob would end so quickly.” Clark joked as he got up from bed to get some tissues from his bedside table to clean up.

He hands you some and you gratefully took them as you wiped your own cum off your body.

“Hey you still got some there.” Clark points at your cheek before he grabs your chin and licks his own seed from your face.

“Gross!” You laughed as you scrambled away from him and wiped off his saliva from your face.

Clark smiled at you. “You just had my dick in your mouth and that’s grosser?”

You stuck your tongue out at him in retaliation before the both of you got dressed again before getting comfortable in Clark’s bed to play video-games.

It wasn’t long after that you went home, the question you asked Clark regarding prom gone from your mind.

~~~~~

Clark closes his locker, only to be met with your wide grin directed at him.

“Well hello, creeper.” Clark greets you in amusement, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Why can’t you just call me the bestest friend you have in the whole entire world especially after what I just did for you.” You retorted, leaning on the locker as you looked up at Clark since he was significantly taller than you were.

Clark laughed. “You’re my only friend and what did you do?”

You stood up straight with a proud smile. “I helped you ask Lana Lang out for prom.”

Clark’s smile immediately fell.

Your grin slips as your face scrunched up with worry. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Why would you do that?” Clark angrily whispered at you, trying not to gain any attention to the both by any other student passing by.

You took a tiny step back at Clark’s sudden mini outburst. “What do you mean? You told me you liked Lana before so I went ahead and helped you since prom is just around the corner!”

Clark takes deep breath, reeling in his emotions.

“I don’t like her anymore.” Clark tells you, his face becoming stoic.

Your eyes widened. “What?! Since when?”

“Since-“ Clark cuts himself off, looking away from you in frustration.

“I’m sorry but I gotta go or else I’ll be late for class.” Clark tells you, his voice monotonous before he walks away.

You stared at his retreating figure with confusion and hurt at your best friend suddenly closing off from you.

You sighed before heading back to class, hoping that Clark would eventually cool off and everything would go back to normal.

Except it didn’t.

The rest of the day, you barely saw Clark.

He wasn’t at the usual table during lunch or was he waiting for you by your locker once school ended like he usually does.

You felt your heart shatter, not believing that you made Clark so mad that he was actively avoiding you.

You went straight home after that, not talking to your parents or your sister as you made your way to your room.

~~~~~

That evening, your parents left for work and your sister Zatanna went out for some party, leaving you home alone.

You sulked by yourself on your couch, scrolling through random channels on your tv in boredom when you hear thunder rumbling outside.

“Great.” You muttered to yourself since you hated thunderstorms.

You headed to your kitchen to start preparing a simple mac and cheese for dinner, the sound of rain getting louder.

A flash of lightning and loud clap of thunder makes you jump and that’s when all the electricity in the house goes off.

You blinked in shock, the only light source were the streetlights coming in from the windows of your living room.

You were trying to remember where the circuit breaker for your house was when there was a bang on your front door.

You instantly reached out for a knife from the kitchen and slowly creeped to the middle of the living room, knife in hand incase you were getting robbed or worse, there was a killer behind the door.

Then a familiar voice calls out your name.

“Let me in.” Clark says from the other side of the door and you immediately wrenched your front door open before stepping back to let the taller man come in.

You heaved a sigh of relief as you dropped the knife to the floor before throwing your arms around Clark, who hugs you back.

“Are you okay?” Clark says into your hair.

“Fuck, I thought I got transported into a horror movie for a second there. The electricity in the house went out and I was trying to remember where the breaker was but then I-“

Clark pulled you tighter to his body, shushing you.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe. I know where the breaker is so just stay put.” You reluctantly let Clark go as he manoeuvred his way around your house.

You watched him go with a frown before shutting the door and picking up the knife to put it back in your kitchen.

The lights then turn back on and you sighed, covering your face with your hands.

The sound of squelching makes you look up and your eyes widened in surprise seeing a wet Clark in your living room, now that the lights were back on and you could get a better look at him.

“Oh my god, Clark! You’re drenched! You need to get out of those clothes now!” You hurriedly scrambled from the kitchen, pushing a surprised Clark into your room.

You searched your closet for spare clothes that you knew Clark had left behind during one of your many sleepovers, you also grabbed a towel along with the clothes and shoved them into Clark’s hands.

“These should be good, it’s yours anyways.” You muttered before leaving your room to let Clark change.

You stepped into your living room with a sigh, the sound of Clark’s footsteps following behind you not long after.

You turned to Clark, remembering the events from the day and you frowned. “What are you doing here, Clark?”

Clark paused. “You’re afraid of thunder, so I came over.”

For some reason, that made your heart swell but you shook it off. “No, I meant what are you doing here after you ditched me the whole day?”

“Right.” Clark’s shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry about that, I needed time to myself and think.”

You crossed your arms, your face resting on a frown before sighing tiredly. “About what Clark?”

Clark looks up at you, taking a step towards your unmoving figure. “Remember that night when you asked me who I was taking to prom? I thought you were joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” You questioned him, your gaze hardening.

“Because we were in the middle of stuff!” Clark raised his hands up in exasperation, only receiving an unamused eye roll from you.

Clark huffed. “Anyway when you told me about Lana, my heart completely shattered because I thought you were waiting for me to ask you!”

Your eyes widened, completely taken aback once again by Clark’s emotional outburst.

“Me? Clark, I know we’ve been doing a lot of things together lately but-“

“You asked me when I stopped liking Lana, right? It was after our first kiss.” Clark interrupted you, making you look up at him in shock.

You were dumbfounded, unable to say anything when Clark takes a closer step towards you before he reaches out to grab you by your waist.

He tugs you towards his body, your arms automatically reaching out to rest on his shoulders as he gives you a small smile.

“I fell in love with you sometime during our friendship and I didn’t know how to tell you but then you told me to kiss you, so I took that chance.”

Clark frowned. “And then we kept going, I knew I should’ve asked to stop but I was too selfish and I was so drunk on you that I didn’t want to let you go. A part of me hoped you felt the same way, that this was more than just fooling around-“

You interrupted Clark with a kiss, the other man greedily pulling you in and hungrily devouring your mouth as if it was his life essence.

You felt your body get pushed back as you walked backwards until your back hit the kitchen aisle, forcing you to break your kiss with Clark.

Clark growled before turning his attention to your neck, making you moan before you had to forcefully grab him by the back of his hair to get him off you.

“What?” Clark asked impatiently, making you laugh before leaning in to kiss his him on the nose.

“Not here, my room.” You told him causing Clark to nod before lifting you up by your thighs to your surprise, carefully making his way to your room.

~~~~~

You were lying on your bed with Clark’s arms wrapped around you, his front covering your back.

The both of you had only exchanged heated kisses before deciding to just cuddle with each other while the heavy rain poured outside.

Clark’s arms tightening around you only when the sound of thunder boomed in the background, making you slightly jump.

It was a comfortable silence.

“Clark?” You whispered, the man only humming in response.

“I’m sorry for earlier. I wasn’t thinking at all when I went to Lana, I should’ve asked you what you actually wanted instead of taking matters into my own hands.”

Clark hooks his chin on your shoulder, dropping a kiss to your neck. “It’s okay, at least now you know and I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have left you alone all day.”

You let out an amused huff. “But you came back for me when you realised it was raining.”

“You’re always such a big baby when it came to thunderstorms.” Clark chuckled against your ear, making you blush but you didn’t deny his statement.

“You’re always so mean to me.” You pouted, making Clark laugh into your neck at how adorable you were being.

Clark pulled back with a lazy smile. “You love it.”

You turn your neck to properly face Clark before giving him a peck on the lips. “Correction, I love you.”

“Yeah?” Clark grins. “I love you too.”

A thought comes into Clark’s mind. “Hey, you locked the door right?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Yeah?”

Clark nodded. “Good because I want to try something with you tonight.”

You blushed. “Okay.”

Clark grinned before pulling your face towards his for a deep kiss. He pulls away to kiss on your neck before descending down, kissing your clothed shoulder and then your hip as he reaches to the bottom.

He tugs on your sweatpants, raising your hips so he could easily pull the pants off your legs.

You kicked off your sweatpants to the floor, only leaving you in your underwear as Clark continued to leave kisses on your now exposed hip before he pulls down your underwear, his lips trailing along.

You gasped when he bites one of your ass cheeks, the skin turning a little red.

“Clark! What are you doing?” You squeaked out, looking down at him.

Clark grins. “What I’ve been wanting to do for a while. Your ass always looks so supple that I just want to shove my whole face in.”

You blushed even harder at that. “Clark, you’re so dirty sometimes you know.”

The other man only laughs in response before separating your cheeks and then diving into your hole, making you moan out in surprise at how fast this was all happening.

Clark moans into your ass, his tongue hungrily licking into your hole. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head at how thorough he was being.

Clark then puts his lips around your hole and sucks, making you cry out into your pillow at how amazing it felt.

You were practically seeing stars when Clark starts fucking into you with his tongue, making your hole wetter with his own saliva.

Clark pulls back from your ass, his face a little wet from eating you out before he taps on your hole with his finger.

“Come on honey, open up that hole for me.” Clark growled out, making you whimper at how dominant he was being.

It was driving you crazy.

Clark smiles when he sees your hole open and close, he chuckles. “It’s like you’re winking at me.”

You then felt Clark’s finger rub against your hole before he slowly pushes on in, making you gasp since this was the first time either of you went this far.

His finger pushes in until it reaches the knuckle before pulling back and then repeating the process.

Clark adds a second finger, pushing them slowly into you again as you watched him focus on just your hole.

Your cock twitched at how sexy he was being and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have him like this.

You then felt his finger rub against a bump that makes you lift your hips in pleasure as you let out a tiny moan at how good it felt.

Clark glanced up at you with a smile before hitting the same spot over and over again, relishing in your uncontrollable moans.

Gosh, he was so hard.

“You like that hun?” Clark asked you, seeing you only nod in response. “That’s your prostate. The magical spot of any men.”

You then felt a third finger go in and you cried out at how much you were being stretched out.

“Clark, it hurts.”

Clark immediately pulls his fingers out, making you feel empty and you immediately regretted it because you wanted his fingers back in you.

Clark’s face then comes into view, his face scrunched up in worry as he starts to wipe the tears on your face, you didn’t even realise you were crying.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry. I got carried away by the sounds you were making and how sexy you looked laying there for me.” Clark apologised with small kisses against your face, making you chuckle as you wordlessly pull his face closer to give him a proper kiss.

You pulled back with a small smile, your lips still close with his. “It’s okay, I liked it. It hurt but it also felt amazing and I need more.”

Clark blinked at you. “More?”

“I need your cock in me.” You elaborated.

Clark shook his head. “Honey, I think we should stop. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, please!” You begged, still holding onto Clark by the back of his neck. “I need you so badly right now, please fill me up and make me feel full.”

Clark was quiet for a second, studying your facial expressions before nodding in agreement as he takes his clothes off and helped you get rid of your shirt as well.

Clark manoeuvres himself so he was in between your spread out legs, he grabbed ahold of his cock and aimed it into your awaiting hole.

You felt his head push in past the rim and you closed your eyes as he goes deeper in.

It was a weird feeling having a cock inside of you but at the same time you didn’t care, the slight painful burn quickly being replaced with pleasure as Clark pushes deeper into you.

“You okay?” Clark breathed out, trying his best not to just shove himself into you with how good you felt squeezing around his cock.

You nodded, a little breathless yourself. “Keep going.”

Clark could only nod as he pushes in again until he bottoms out, making you moan at how much he was filling you up.

Clark stayed still, letting you adjust before you gave him another nod so he could pull back and push himself into you again.

Clark gave careful thrusts, not wanting to hurt you. Relishing the small whimpers and moans you gave him, Clark couldn’t help but moan along with how tight you were.

He leans in and kisses you as he picks up the pace, trying to distract you from any kind of pain.

He swallowed the noises you were making while still keeping himself in control as he fucks you deeper.

You reached and grabbed Clark’s face, licking his lips with your tongue with a smile.

“Go harder, Kent.” You huffed out.

Clark shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

You rolled your eyes at him, it was sweet he was being attentive but you needed him now more than ever. “Clark, I’ll be fine. It’s okay to lose control, please fuck me.”

Something snapped in Clark and he starts thrusting harder into you, his hips snapping against your cheeks.

The sound of skin slapping against each other accompanied by both your cries and moans as you held onto Clark’s back as he drives himself desperately into you.

“Is this what you want, honey? You want to feel my cock deeper inside you?” Clark growled against your neck.

You clung on to Clark for dear life as he continued to obliterate your hole at your request.

“Fuck Clark, yes! Keep going! You make me feel so full!” You cried out, completely blissed out at the feeling of Clark’s cock hitting your prostate over and over again.

A sharp push from Clark, hits your prostate just right as your cock starts cumming where it was squeezed in between your bodies.

Clark grins as he continues to fuck you. “Did you just cum from me being inside you?”

You nodded before pulling Clark into another kiss as his thrusts start to slow down and you knew he was close.

“You getting close, baby?” You whispered as you pushed one of Clark’s sweaty curls from his face.

Clark could only nod as his thrusts became less coordinated and more sporadic. “Your hole feels so tight around me.”

Clark’s body twitched and you knew it was coming when Clark pushes his face into your neck and moans loudly as he starts cumming into you.

You whimpered feeling his cock pulse out multiple shots of his seed, filling you up to the brim until you feel it slowly trickle out of you even though Clark was still in you.

God, it was hot.

After Clark was done, his body relaxed on top of you. You grinned as you swiped away some of his curls that covered his eyes.

Clark smiled back, in complete bliss.

The both of you were truly happy that you were each other’s first.

You and Clark laid on your bed in each other’s arms, all sweaty and sticky but neither of you cared one bit.

“Clark, we need to get up and wash up before my family comes home.” You told him, making Clark huff out a small laugh.

“But you feel so good around my cock and filled up with my babies.” Clark jokes as he bites one of your nipples, making you hiss since you were already extra sensitive.

“Stop it!” You blushed. “If we get caught, I’m not going to prom with you.”

Clark raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t ask you to prom.”

“Oh so I’m just a fuck toy to you then?” You challenged him, making him groan.

Clark gives you an apologetic kiss on the lips. “No, you’re my boyfriend that I’m taking to prom and don’t swear honey, you know I hate it.”

You grinned mischievously at him. “Honey?”

Clark’s face redden as he shoves his face against your neck. “It just came out, okay.”

You laughed. “It’s okay baby, I like it but we really gotta clean up.”

Clark groaned. “Fine.”

~~~~~

At prom, you and Clark were slow dancing in each other’s arms out in the empty parking lot.

The both of you didn’t want to garner a lot of attention from others, choosing to be with each other in the silent night instead.

“I’m so happy you asked me to kiss you back then.” Clark smiled down at you.

You returned the smile. “I’m happy you did.”

“I’m also glad that we were each other’s first.”

You blushed, making Clark chuckle as he drops a kiss to your cheek. “I can’t wait to start a whole new life with you once we’re out of here.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “A bit too soon for marriage don’t you think?”

Clark blushed, making you slap him on the shoulder. “Clark!”

“Okay okay! How about when we’ve moved out of our parents’ houses and we find a nice place together with good and steady jobs?” Clark asks you, making you think.

“Okay, fine but let’s just enjoy each other for now. I can’t be thinking about the future.” You whined, making the other man laugh.

“Of course honey. We can even enjoy something else after this.” Clark gives you a mischievous grin, making you blush at his straightforwardness.

“Clark!”

*****

Author’s note:

Hope y’all enjoyed this one, I certainly did

The original request was to have Clark be the oblivious one but I digress, the story got away from me

I might make a part 2 to this, a glimpse into their future

Spoiler alert, Clark will not be a reporter

Again all mistakes are mine and will be edited as soon as I have time to re read this fic again

You had been hard at work all morning long as the sun was at its highest point in the sky. The hot sun rays were beaming down as sweat ran down your face as summer was officially here.

The girls were out of school for the summer as they were running around the yard and through the sprinklers you had going on to water the grass.

They giggled and squealed as they were in their bathing suits, pushing at one another as they played a game of tag.

Mrs. Morrison was sitting on a nearby lounge chair keeping watch at her girls, making sure they were playing nicely and preventing any injuries from happening.

Mr. Price was inside as he was handling a sudden business matter in his office, a sudden issue going on at his job.

You placed down the lopper as your arms were getting quite sore, rolling them to ease the pain.

Mrs. Morrison noticed this as she placed her glass of lemonade on the nearby table, "Why don't you take a small break or better yet, call it a day?"

She proposed in a soft tone with a comforting smile, "It's no issue, honestly."

You raised your brows at her offer as you took it. You honestly didn't mind working in the heat, but your shoulders were honestly killing you right now.

"Thank you, Mrs. Morrison. 'm definitely gonna take that offer, quite hot today," you answered back in an out-of-breath thankful tone.

"Oh, it's nothin'!" she said with a wave of her hand as she went back to sipping her lemonade.

You put the tools back into the shed so the girls wouldn't get hurt or think of using them, as you then made your way inside the house.

You had your bag of essentials by the sliding door as you grabbed it, making a beeline to the downstairs bathroom for a shower.

-

The bathroom door opened as steam followed you out as you loved to take hot showers despite whatever the weather.

You bagged your dirty clothes up in a plastic bag and placed it next to your bag by the sliding door.

You looked out to see Olivia and Amelia spraying each other with water guns as you could hear them laughing loudly, even through the door.

You smiled at the sight as you startled after hearing a loud bang come from upstairs making you grow concerned.

You headed upstairs to explore the source of the loud bang as you could now hear muffled cursing coming from Price's office.

You quickly realized that the loud bang you heard earlier must've been him banging his fists against his desk or something similar.

You stood outside the door as you heard him let out a series of curses, hearing him let out a frustrated groan.

You softly knocked on the door to announce your presence as you opened it, peeking your head in.

"Everythin' alright in 'ere, John? Heard a loud bang earlier, came to see why." You explained in a soft, worried tone as you stepped into the office, closing the door shut behind you.

John looked pleased to see you as he visibly relaxed at just the sight of you, "I'm fine, kid. Jus' some usual work bullshite."

He responded in a slightly frustrated tone as he swayed on his feet, walking up to you. He held your face gently in his hands as he pressed a quick peck to your lips.

You nodded your head as you felt your cock twitching in your pants, an idea slowly forming in your mind.

"Where the girls?" Price asked in a soft, curious tone as he moved his hands to place them on your hips, pushing his index fingers under the hem of your shirt.

"Outside playin' and gettin' wet," you answered in a sweet tone, "Mrs. Morrison is keepin' watch, which means she's busy at the moment."

You said the last part in a sultry tone, your fingers prodding at his belt buckle in a teasing manner. You never seduced anyone a day in your life so you were really hoping you were doing a good job and not making a complete idiot of yourself.

Price got your hint as he smirked at your cute way of seducing him, "That right? And what exactly do you have in mind now, hm?"

Price questioned you in a teasing tone, going along with your charade. He raised his brows as his eyes roamed down your body with hunger in them, his own cock twitching to life in his jeans.

The two of you have been hooking up since your first time together, using every moment you could. He's fucked you in the kitchen, the living room, the laundry room, the guest bedroom, even out in the garden.

The two of you acted like a couple on their honeymoon lately, giggled like teenage lovers, and looked out for each other like an old married couple.

You brushed back the giddiness you felt whenever Price spoke filthy words towards you. You swallowed down the emotions as you pushed him back into his chair, kneeling in between his thick legs.

"Fuckin' hell," he gasped out as his eyes were lidded, his hands gripping the arms of his chair tightly, making the leather squeak in return.

You wordlessly unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, eager to get your mouth on him. His cock sprang out as it was rock hard, the head bright red and leaking precum.

You stroked it a couple times before leaning forward, your tongue licking at his frenulum. Your tongued lapped at the thin skin underneath his head, knowing that area was quite sensitive.

Price bucked his hips at the feeling, teeth clenched together as he let out a long groan. He placed one of his hands on the top of your head, his fingers weaving in between your hair.

He didn't pull or push, simply kept his hand there as a comforting gesture, but he really did want to fuck your mouth - you were still too green for it though.

Your tongue traced down one of the many prominent veins on his shaft, going down all the way to his balls. You gently and slowly sucked one testicle into your mouth, tugging on it gentle before letting it go with a loud pop.

You gave the other testicle the same treatment as you slowly licked up his shaft, taking the head into your mouth and suctioning your cheeks.

You moaned around the head to send vibrations down making him groan out as he leaned his head against the chair, closing his eyes in pleasure.

You placed a hand on the base of his penis to hold it in place, using the other one to stroke it in time with your mouth.

You looked up at him as you sucked on the head for a bit before taking a bit more into your mouth, not being able to take him all the way due to both his large size and your inexperience.

You bobbed your head up and down at a fast but steady speed, one Price liked as he took the time to teach you back when you first approached about giving him head.

"Jus' like that... fuck... keep goin', kid." Price slurred out, too blissed out from your mouth on him. His eyes were still shut as his mouth was partially open, letting out soft groans.

You felt his cock twitching in your mouth as his groans became more rougher - he was close. After spending so much time making love to one another, you memorized every quirk of his.

You kept the same speed as you moaned around him, his hips thrusting softly in order to not gag you around his length. He had done so once which made you upset as he apologized to you, making it up by eating your ass out.

You startled a bit as his cum spurted out with no warning. His hot cum filling your mouth as it tasted slightly bitter, but you didn't care. You loved it whenever he came on your mouth or on your face, then eating it afterwards.

Price's whole body tensed up with the force of his orgasm, then slowly went limp. He opened his eyes as he smiled at the sight of you, lips still wrapped around him as you made sure to get every drop.

You slowly pulled off as you opened your mouth for him to see his cum pooled in your mouth, then closing it as you swallowed, reopening it to show that you truly did swallow it.

Price let out a groan and a chuckle, "Good boy." He said as his hand stroked your face, bringing you in for a kiss as he tasted himself on you.

-

It was three weeks later when you were hanging out with some old friends at the local pub. You sat at a booth as you were drinking some pop as you weren't a drinker.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket as you took it out to see who it was.

Mr. Price

Rebecca will be out for three days and four night for a business trip. Come stay with me and the girls for the entirety of her absence. xxx

Mr. Price

She leaves on Monday at 0600 hours. xxx

You smiled slightly at the message, sending a quick reply back before tucking your phone back into your pocket.

You couldn't wait.

You're definitely going to hell.

-

It was two nights before Rebecca was due to leave for her business trip when Price deleted the messages he sent you from his phone.

He placed the gadget on the bedside table as he walked into the bathroom where Rebecca was doing her nightly skincare routine.

She was rubbing some serum from a brand he couldn't pronounce and it was marketed to get rid of wrinkles or whatever bullshit the company claimed.

He stood behind her as he looked at her reflection in the mirror, spotless as Rebecca liked a clean environment. She absolutely despised anything messy or dirty, a clean freak is what she was.

"You look absolutely gorgeous, you know that? Can't help but want to have a taste o' you all night long." Price said as his hands groped at her behind through her silk pyjama shorts.

He spoke in a hoarse, sultry tone but he didn't mean any of the words. He was just keeping the act of being a lovely husband up so nothing seemed amiss.

Rebecca shoved his hand away playfully, "Don't got the stamina f'r that anymore, John." she said with a small laugh, shaking her head.

She grabbed some other skincare product which was in a plastic tube, flicked open the lid and squeezed out a coin size amount.

She softly massaged it into her skin in gentle circular motions as Price observed her actions, but truth be told he was zoning out.

Price kept quiet for the rest of her night routine as he embraced her, leaning for a kiss but Rebecca smoothly dodged it.

"None o' that, John. Not in the mood knowing your libido," she spoke in a teasing tone with a hint of being snarky.

To anyone it seemed just playful, but not to John - he knew his wife, and she was giving a hint she knew something she wasn't supposed to.

John didn't show any acknowledgement as he kept a calm exterior. Rebecca was good at lying, but she wasn't exactly top tier - Price had many skeletons in the closet she doesn't know about.

"Bloody shame, would love to get a piece o' you before you go." He said as he rubbed a hand on her shoulder, moving to climb into bed.

"Maybe when I get back we can go on a date," Rebecca proposed in a soft tone, her smile seeming a bit force.

Price nodded his head, "Sounds good. Got a place in mind."

He said with a smile, reaching out to flick off the bedside lamp before getting comfortable. Rebecca did the same as their bedroom was plunged into darkness.

Rebecca slept with her back towards Price as he stared at her form.

He knew what he needed to do.

It's a shame it had to come to this, but oh well, things don't always go as planned.

-

The morning of Mrs. Morrison's departure went swell as the girls had cried sending their mother off. You had arrived half an hour after Mrs. Morrison had left as the girls were delighted to see you.

Especially Amelia when you told her you were gonna make her favorite breakfast burritos. The four of you had spend all day together as you all hit the shops, grab some food, and even went to the local park.

By the afternoon, the girls were tired as you carried a sleeping Amelia to her room while Price carried Olivia to hers.

The two girls were put to bed as Price and you stood in the hallway, both having the same idea in your minds.

Price lunged towards you as he threw you over his shoulder, making a beeline to the sacred bedroom he shared with his wife.

The two of you never had sex in that room - you never even walked inside that room. He walked inside the room as he softly shut the door and locked it behind him.

He gently placed you on the bed as he immediately climbed on top of you and began ravaging your mouth while simultaneously taking your clothes off.

"Been dreamin' on fucking you here," he groaned out as he had you fully naked in record-breaking time.

"Even had wet dreams at my old age," Price chuckled out as he leaned down to leave hickeys all over your chest, fingers teasing your nipples.

You let out a small chuckle at his words as you pulled him down for a kiss, holding at his nape to keep him still.

You bit at his lip as you then licked it, sucking it into your mouth as both of you moaned at the same time.

You tugged at Price's shirt as he got the memo, breaking the kiss as he shuffled off the bed. He stripped off his clothing, standing stark naked as he had done in that room thousands of times, but now it was different - it was much better.

He climbed back on you as you groped at his body, seeing scars from his time in the military etched into his skin.

Price had told you how he had gotten each one after a good round of sex a while back, he was more than welcome to tell you. He felt it was right for you to know, especially if you were gonna spend the rest of your life together.

Price trailed his hands down your body, passed your leaking cock that was resting on your stomach, precum pooling on your stomach.

His hands ignored your weeping cock as it went straight to your ass, frowning as he felt something hard in between your cheeks.

He shifted to take a look as he let out a curse under his breath as he realized you had a butt plug in you all day today.

"Wanted to be ready for you, sir. I didn't want to wait for you to prep me. I need your cock in me right now, John!" you panted out as you squirmed, reaching down to pull out the plug and then push it back in.

"Fuckin' hell!" he grunted out as he pulled out the butt plug tossing it over his shoulder as it landed on the floor softly due to it being made of silicone.

Price spat on his cock as he lubed it up, lining it up with your hole as he pushed forward.

You pressed your lips together to muffle your moans so you wouldn't wake the girls up from their nap as Price bit down on his lower lip.

He began at a slow, steady speed as today he wanted to take things slow with you. He loved rough sex, but he also loved making love to you slowly, as he knew he could easily fuck multiple orgasms from you like this.

He looked down at his hands around your hips as he got a kick from how he could nearly wrap both hands completely around your waist.

He loved how bigger he was than you, how he could simply use his bulk to hold you down, and how he could manhandle you into any position he wanted.

You whimpered at the slow pace as it enabled you to perfectly feel his cock going in and out of you, feeling the head pressing against your prostate.

You brought him down for a kiss as you wrapped your arms around him, as the room was filled with the sheets rustling and both of your faint groans.

The atmosphere was filled with desire as your love for one another was through the roof, filling the both of you up and making the slow sex even more pleasurable.

The two of you were lost into one another, the world outside disappearing as it was like only the two of you existed. All the stress, all the problems, and all the distractions faded away until nothingness.

Your whimpers got more close together and higher in pitch as Price grunted more harshly, both of you getting close as the pressure built up in both of your balls.

Price leaned up from having his head tucked against your neck as he brought you into a kiss as his cock twitched inside of you.

You reached down to stroke your own cock as it, too, twitched as your toes began curling.

Price and you both moaned into the kiss as both of you came at the same time, his hot cum filling you up while yours pooled on your stomach.

Price broke the kiss as the two of you panted, stomach clenching as the muscles in both of your bodies all flexed with the intensity.

"I love you," you panted out as you stared up at Price with post-nut bliss and love.

Price smiled as he leaned down to press a peck to your lips, "I love you, too, son."

He said as he caressed your face gently in his hands, "How about one more round and then we'll wake up the girls?"

Price proposed as you quickly nodded to his suggestion, "Let's do it in the bathroom."

Price smiled widely at your suggestion, "We can do it in the jacuzzi."

Price said with a chuckle as he effortlessly carried you in his arms, walking to the connected bathroom.

-

It was the second night of Mrs. Morrison's absence for her business trip as it was 2:47 a.m.

The night was quiet saved for the slight wind outside causing the trees to rustle, as an occasional nature sound was heard.

Price and you were both fast asleep as the two of you laid on each side of the bed. You had originally fallen asleep in each other's arms, but you moved out from his embrace due to you having a tendency to run hot while you slept.

Price woke up as he felt his bladder screaming for release as he glanced at the clock, rubbing at his eyes as he dislodged the boogers forming in the corners of his eyes.

He slowly got up from the bed in order to not disturb you as he quietly made his way to the connected bathroom, relieving himself.

He washed his hands as he cleared his throat, spitting a glob into the sink as he watched it swirled down the drain.

Rebecca always hated when he did that while as you found it hilarious and found it matching for him to do so. Apparently, it was called 'dad noise' on the internet, as you had shown him some videos.

It did match, suppose it was one of the many things it came with being a dad.

He felt the need for a drink of water as he shut the water off, drying his hands as he then made his way downstairs to the kitchen.

He leaned against the island as he recounted all the times he had fucked you on it, smiling at the memories.

Rebecca had never once allowed him to have sex outside of their bedroom, felt too posh to do so. You, however, practically begged him to fuck you wherever you were.

The two of you had sex in his car once after going out to buy necessities for the garden only for you to suddenly give him road head on your way back. Price had pulled over to a secluded area and fucked you in the backseat, making the windows fogged up and all.

He sighed as he thought about the night two days prior to her leaving, how she was subtly letting him know she knew he was cheating on her.

Price wondered how she had found out, had she looked into his phone? No way.

He knew how to scrub his phone to make it look like those messages never existed, had the technology to do so. Plus, Rebecca was never that good with technology, she often needed his help with things.

Perhaps they weren't that careful when having sex around the house since Rebecca always deep-cleaned every week. They must've accidentally left something behind for her to find when cleaning.

Price mentally cursed at the rookie mistake, but it was no problem. Things like this happened on the field which required proper clean-up, and the same strategy applies to this scenario.

He began plotting as to what he could do to get out of this situation unscathed, or at least with minimal damage.

He didn't want to be separated from his girls, love them to death and would do anything to make sure she couldn't take them away from him.

They had already had a prenuptial agreement in place which stated that in the case of divorce, they would share custody of the girls. He hoped that the agreement would stay in place, and he would make sure it would.

Price let out a frustrated sigh as he placed the glass in the sink as he then went back upstairs. He paused at the sight of Amelia's bedroom door being wide open as he peered inside, not seeing her in there.

He then heard murmured voices coming from down the hall to the main bedroom as he saw the door ajar.

He stood near it in a inconspicuous way as he began listening into the conversation she was having with you.

Telling from the tone of her voice, Amelia must've had a nightmare or something of that sort. It was common for her as she held a wild imagination which came into play with her fears.

"- it sounds like a monster is out there!" she whined out as he heard you cooing at her. You sat on the edge of the bed with her in your lap, your arms wrapped around her in a comforting embrace.

"There's no monsters out there! It must be a branch scratching your window. I'll trim it tomorrow morning so it won't bother you anymore, yeah?"

You said back in a comforting tone as you rocked her back and forth, "There are monsters out there!"

She whined back as she began to cry, "No, there's not! You want to know why? Because you're daddy scared them all away!"

You said back as you caressed her small face, wiping her tears away softly.

"...He did?" she asked in a surprised yet curious tone as her eyes looked up at you.

You nodded, "Yes, he did! He told me the story the other day, actually. Yeah, the monsters first came for Olivia when she first arrived, but Price went outside and told them off!"

You recounted the made-up story, "He told them they were messing with the wrong family and he showed them. They ran off after that and never came back, even told the other nasty monsters to not come to this house! Since then, no monster has dared to come to this house. They're all scared of your daddy."

Amelia let out a small giggle as she smiled, pleased at what she heard.

"You feel better now?" you asked as you pinched her cheek, making her squeal in delight as she nodded.

"I feel much better!" she exclaimed as Price walked in.

"Daddy!" Amelia said as she slide off your lap into her dad's arms.

John immediately picked up his youngest daughter as he pressed a big kiss to her chubby cheek, "You got scared cause of the monsters?"

Amelia nodded, "I did, but not anymore! Cause you scared them all away, daddy!"

She said with a big smile as she stared at him like he was the best thing in the world. It was crazy that she saw him that way as he wasn't a saint, far from it, but to her, she saw none of that - he was just daddy.

"That's right! Daddy told them off and now they tell stories of me to thier friends." He said with a chuckle as he pinched her nose playfully, making her sqawk in return.

"Now, let's put you back to sleep." He said as she rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck which always made him feel so warm.

"I love him, Daddy." she said suddenly as they entered her room as she let out a big yawn, "I wish he could become a part of this family."

She sleepily mumbled out as Price smiled at her words, "Yeah? I love him, too, sweetie."

He said back as he tucked her in, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she hugged her plush toy to her chest.

"G'night, darlin'." he said as he quietly walked out of her room, softly closing the door behind him.

Price always made sure his girls got what they wanted, and he was gonna make sure Amelia's wish came true.

He may not be a good husband, but he always made sure to be a good father.

⌜A/N: Nearly crashed my Tumblr app uploading this chapter. Also, seems like Mrs. Morrison knows what's going on, but how did she find out? And what are you planning to do, Price!? We got like maybe 2-4 chapters left before this series comes to an end. Probably won't upload until I have the rest of the chapters all written up, so please be patient! Per usual, sorry for any grammatical/spelling errors.⌟

⌜⚠️: I do NOT consent to my work being trained by AI or an AI bot based on my work. I do NOT consent to my work being uploaded to other sites! If you wish to write a spinoff based on my work, you may do so as long as you credit me! Artwork is also welcomed with credit!⌟

⌜Tag List: @bipedebrasileiro @unsolvetheheckoutofit @marrziy⌟

Bang Bang Bang

Matt sighed, his eyes wide open as he stared at the ceiling, another sleepless night. The metal frame of your headboard is ramming into the wall with the force of an earthquake, shaking the building, and causing pictures and items on the shelves to shake. This happens four days a week, every single week, ever since you moved next door to him. It was infuriating for the man as he wanted to rest after a long day of dealing with the courts and clients – and vigilante duty. Yet, over time, that began to change.

Matt started to like it.

…

When you first moved into the apartment, Matt didn’t think anything of it. He gave simple greetings whenever he saw you and went about his day, not paying you any mind. He made the rightful assumption that you were gonna be another quiet neighbor that didn't bother or interfere with him or his work. However, the noises started a couple of days after you moved in.

He was tired. Eight hours of dissecting witness testimonies, negotiating, and standing in front of the jury to plead, and that wasn’t the end. His vigilante work also took another toll on him. His body ached after some bastard got a lucky punch on him, and he was experiencing sensory overload due to his heightened senses. He needed sleep.

After stripping off his clothing, Matt dove onto his bed. The mattress gave under his weight as he sighed and groaned in relief, the warmth and comfort of his bed already soothing his body. The stress and tension were expelled as he wrapped himself in his blanket and relaxed, his breathing calmed, and his eyes began to close. This was it; he was getting the rest he needed.

The blessed, blissful quietness.

…

…

…

Mmhh, ahh—

Matt’s jaw tightened. He could hear the muffled thumps against the wall, metal creaking under the weight being pressed on it. These sounds repeated until there was a steady, unmistakable rhythm of sex. Curse whatever the material was used when building the apartment complex, cause now he can hear his neighbor having sex. It didn’t help that his heightened sense of hearing meant he could hear everything.

He could hear two hearts beating, wet skin slapping against skin, labored breathing, and the cries of pleasure. There was one that stood out: you. He could hear you moaning loudly, begging for more and for whoever was fucking you to go faster. The other heartbeat in the room was in sync with yours, along with words of praise and degradation, leaving those same lips. Seems like you were the one receiving and being a bitch in heat.

Matt grunted as he pressed the palms of his hands against his ears to block out the sounds, but that didn’t help. He could still hear them, and they were getting louder. He tried turning onto his side and covering his ears with a pillow, but that didn’t work. It also didn’t help that his radar senses were mapping out every movement and position, creating a vivid image. Suddenly, he felt something throbbing in his pants: he was getting hard.

“Oh God… please forgive me,” Matt whispered, his voice heavy with a groan stuck in his throat. A special type of heat was pooling in his groin, his body reacting to your labored moans and cries for more. The brown-haired man hated this, hated how his body was responding to you. All those years of self-control were gone, all thanks to you. His cock was throbbing in his pants. He tried thinking of something else, attempting to clear his mind, but failed miserably.

Hhh… ahhh… fhh

The brown-haired man turned onto his back, pulled the covers over himself, and placed a pillow on his face. He suffocates himself with it, hoping to drown out any of the lecherous sounds. Yet, it did nothing to hide the traitorous ache in his boxers; if anything, it made his length more prominent to anyone looking. He unknowingly started thrusting his hips, his moans muffled against the pillow as his cock ached with need – the massive piece of meat throbbing and staining his boxers with precum. Matt groans to himself as he tries to control his wandering mind, but it is of no use.

He was gonna have a word with you in the morning.

Timeskip to the morning

“Fucking hell,” you groggily said, rubbing your eyes as the sunlight cut across your face. You’ve been meaning to put the blinds up but kept forgetting, maybe later in the day. You didn’t feel like getting up, though; the comfort of your bed, drowsiness, and your body pains were whispering to lie down and sleep for another five minutes. You fall for the temptation of more sleep, turning away from the sunlight and burying your head in the pillow.

[Insert Apple or any other phone alarm]

“I guess not,” you mumbled, huffing in displeasure as you cried on the inside. Despite not wanting to get out of your bed, you eventually did; you had work in a couple of hours.

You slowly pulled yourself up, stretching your muscles as you did. You gasped and groaned in pain as the soreness from last night was hitting you like a truck. Your thighs and legs protested first, followed by your hips and upper body; maybe it wasn’t a good idea to get bent a day before work.

“That was a bad idea,” you said with an itchy throat as you limped to the kitchen, looking for water. As you limped, memories of last night floated in your head: the sharp thrusts, praises, and degradation, his teeth grazing your skin. Now, the apartment was quiet. It seems your casual fling left already. You usually call him over whenever you need stress relief and a good pounding to help you forget about life.

You were chugging down a nice, cold bottle of water, the cold sensation flooding your mouth and running down your throat, and you sighed in comfort. You were pulled from your thoughts by knocking on the door; three knocks, which sounds like the person was impatient. You frowned, dragging yourself to the door, not caring about looking presentable.

Opening the door, you were greeted by Matt, your next-door neighbor. He wasn’t wearing his usual suit and tie; instead, he was shirtless, with gray sweatpants hanging low on his waist, revealing his V-line and boxer outline, and his red pair of glasses. One arm held his cane, and the other was over his chest. You couldn’t help but ogle his body; you were used to seeing him in his suit or jackets.

You admired the other man’s body, your mouth watering at the sight of those muscles, not too bulky, but lean and athletic. There were some marks and scars: A jagged scar that disappeared into his sweats, bruises on his abs, and cuts on his biceps. You never noticed your next-door neighbor like this until now.

Your eyes moved from his body to his face. You have never seen him without his tinted red glasses on; you’re sure his eyes are amazing, just like his body. His jaw was tight, muscles tightening as he clenched it, with a faint shadow of stubble darkening his chin and mouth. You were losing yourself, lusting for a man you barely knew and who knows nothing about you.

It was getting to the point where you were clenching your thighs, your hole aching as your cock jumped to life. It's not like Matt would notice since he’s blind, but that made it worse with that information.

But Matt did notice.

He could sense your heartbeat shifting, faster than usual, and your blood pressure was spiking, most likely helping to send blood to your cock. He could feel your eyes roaming his body, examining every nook and cranny of his skin. Your movements and breathing changed as well as you sucked in a breath, barely audible, but Matt heard it. Even the air between you two changed; it was faint but sharp, and he could even smell the scent of the other man who had his way with you.

With all the signals your body was giving, the vigilante could paint a picture in his mind: you were clenching your thighs to tame the aching erection and your hole was twitching and throbbing around nothing as it begged to be filled, filled by him. He could probably stretch your hole beyond belief, more than any other man has achieved, have you whimpering and crying on his cock as he rammed it deep into your tight depths. Your fingers digging into his skin, leaving behind marks of your coupling…

He wonders how did you feel, your hole clenching around his cock, desperately milking the piece of flesh with everything you've got. The vigilante pictured you begging for him to breed your tight ass, unload waves of cum… pumping loads inside you. He could see the way your face was filled with ecstasy and bliss. Your hole would tighten around him, milking his cock of all its cum, draining his balls after weeks of self-restraint.

Fuck, Matt could feel his cock becoming erect.

His jaw tightened, and his grip on the cane tightened as he tried to refocus his mind on the topic at hand. The vigilante’s mind was scrambled with being annoyed and embarrassed: annoyed because he was too tired to be dealing with this, his patience running thin as he wanted to get this over with, and embarrassed because he didn’t want to see or feel how your body was reacting to him, and how it was affecting him. I make his gut twist with temptation.

Yet, those two thoughts were being overshadowed by amusement, predatory amusement. There was a smug smile internally; you weren’t subtle about your obvious attraction, but you weren’t aware of his abilities. He may be blind, but he could sense everything.

“Ahem, I just wanted to talk to you about something.” Matt began, pushing those thoughts to the side as he reaffirmed himself back to his usual composure. He’s going to deal with those thoughts later in privacy.

“Oh, um, yeah! What was it you wanted to speak to me about?” you replied, shaking your head as Matt’s deep, morning voice pulled you from your thoughts. You didn’t realize how long you were staring; your mind was overwhelmed and amazed by Matt. Your cheeks flustered as you fixed your position and focused on what your neighbor wanted to say.

“I’m just here to say, please keep it down or go to a love hotel. Some of us come home after a long day of dealing with… nuisances.” Matt said politely, giving a small smile.

You choked on your spit at what Matt said, coughing and gagging as your spit burned your throat. Your embarrassment was shooting through the roof, amplified more by Matt's chuckling. “Oh my… I didn’t know! Thanks for telling me, though. I promise that won’t happen again,” you replied, scratching the back of your head with a nervous smile etched on your face. Your neighbor listened to you getting piped down… a part of you wondered if he liked that, though.

“Yes, you’re quite loud too. Thank you for listening.” Matt said, giving a wave before returning to his room. As he walked away, you noticed his back muscles. His broad shoulders sway and flex with each step. Your jaw dropped again, and the aching in your lower half returned.

You needed him, every piece of him. Your heart began to flutter and beat rapidly as you stared at the man walking away.

…

Matt was able to enjoy a couple of days of much-needed rest. He sighed in relief, lying down in bed, his bruised and aching body pressing against the plushness of his bed, the warmth of the sheets covering him, and the soft pillows holding his head. Another peaceful night to enjoy. Matt’s vision darkened as he was overcome by exhaustion and his body entered REM sleep.

But promises don’t last long.

Nnh—oh—ahhh—

…

…

Bang… bang… bang…

Matt continued to endure countless nights of your sexual escapades. The bed creaking and slamming against the brittle wall, the sharp rhythm of wet skin contact, and the muffled whimpers and moans slipping from your tongue. Even on days when he takes the day off, he listens to you fucking yourself with a dildo. The bed creaks under your weight as you ride a dildo, the massive piece of silicon hitting your deepest depths, especially that special spot that made you cry with ecstasy.

Like right now. Matt had nothing to do in court, so he decided to use the day for some personal activities and planning the next raid against some nearby mobsters, thanks to the newly provided intel. His senses picked up the sound of the door outside opening and slamming, indicating that you had come home early. He didn’t pay note to your arrival and continued his activities.

Minutes later, the sounds of clothes being hastily taken off, the bed creaking, and the sheets shuffling. Again, Matt didn’t think anything of it until soft moans began filling his ears.

This is the only time Matt curses his enhanced senses. Everything was betraying him. Every sound that you made was crystal-clear; every heartbeat, moan, and laboured breathing. The smell of sweat and arousal flooded his nostrils as the scents seeped through holes in the wall. The vigilante groans with exasperation, leaning back on his chair as his brain starts visualizing the scene happening next door.

No matter how hard he tried, he squeezed his eyes shut or pressed the palms of his hands against his ears, but it didn’t matter. The vigilante considered himself a patient, compassionate, and moral man, but he was losing it with you. He wasn’t the type to hate anyone; his religious beliefs made him believe hating is a sin… yet you were testing that.

Despite his feelings, his body was telling another story. His cock was responding to the loud moans and laboured breaths. He could picture everything in his head, even stored memories started picturing vivid images of you in debauchery positions: missionary, mating press, reverse cowgirl, six-nine, and from what he gathered, you appeared to like mating press the most. His senses and mind were flooded, a flurry of sin and lust.

Matt felt his throat go dry, his cock stirring in his pants, as if it was going to burst from his zipper.

“Forgive me, father…” he whispered, voice hoarse as he gave in.

…

It became a routine that Matt couldn’t change, despite the shame that filled his body afterwards; it felt so good to masturbate. Stroking his cock and squeezing his heavy balls, pearly beads of precum oozing from the cockhead as he listened to everything next door; you were his personal porn video. It was awkward whenever he ran into you in the hallway; he had to act like he wasn’t jerking off to you the night before.

Yet, Matt was still disgruntled with you since you were taking some valuable rest from him. The only good thing is that your moans and cries of pleasure are jerking off material. Matt viewed it as much-needed stress relief and sometimes would fall asleep after doing the deed.

It was another restless night. Matt lay naked on his bed, his boxer slipped below his waistline as he stroked his heavy cock. You were alone this time; Matt didn’t detect another person in the room. The vigilante bit back a groan as he listened to your voice, your moans piercing his ears as his cock twitched in his palms. The loud, wet slaps of the dildo against your skin made Matt’s mind swirl into the depths of filthy lust.

His skin was covered in sweat, his breathing hitched, and his chest heaving. His nails dug into the sheets and tightened around his massive length. Matt pumped his cock in tandem with each thrust of the dildo, imagining it was him… No! He can’t think that… fucking another man, the thought never crossed his mind. But the notion of it made his cock throb in his hands, and globs of thick precum oozed from the tiny slit at the thought.

What were you doing to him? He doesn’t understand what he’s feeling, but it's making him irritated and horny. He just wants to pin you down and ram his cock into your hole, spearing you on his cock and pounding you into oblivion. Sometimes, Matt wonders if you’re doing this on purpose… he could sense your clear arousal and interest in him, the way your heartbeat shifted and body reacted whenever you saw him.

His stroking became more vicious and rough, his teeth gritting as he squeezed his cockhead, preventing an orgasm from ripping through his body. God, Matt hated how he wanted to be in bed with you. Ripping that dildo out of your ass and replacing it with his cock. He could only imagine what it would feel like to fuck another man. Your warm, tight ass gripping his cock while he fucks you into oblivion, or your wet mouth wrapped around his cock, giving him a sloppy blowjob. His vulgar imagination continued to feed him as he stroked his cock faster.

He was pulled from his thoughts as his senses singled on one single word, drowning out the others, a word that confirmed his suspicion. You were moaning his name. The way it rolled off your tongue left the vigilante in a daze. That was the final straw… You must have wanted him to be desperate.

He should visit you one of these days.

…

Your body was coated with sweat, your legs wobbling, and your cock bouncing each time you rode the dildo. The room was heady with the smell of sweat and sex; the scent made your mind swirl. The only thing floating around your head was your neighbor, Matt Murdock. He became the center of attention ever since that day, a couple of weeks ago… your body was aching for him.

There was something about him that attracted you towards him. You wanted to feel his body rubbing against yours; you could tell his dick was large by the dick print in his sweatpants. You were doing everything to get his attention, hoping that he would come over and fuck you into bed. You couldn’t tell how Matt was reacting, but your gut was telling you that he felt the same as you.

You were pulled from your lust-hazed mind by loud knocking at the door. Your body went still, wondering who was at the door. Nervously and shakily, you got up – your legs felt like jelly, and your muscles screamed to go back to bed. Yet, you pushed your way through the pain and continued to the door. You wobbled to the door; the loud knocking didn’t cease, if anything, it got louder and more insistent to be let in. Whoever was beyond the door either wanted to demand that you be quiet or – that would be it. Your hand wrapped around the handle, slowly turning it to the right.

“Hello?” You didn’t have time to react until you felt your body being rammed into the wall. You were disoriented, unable to see who entered your apartment. You heard the front door being closed, and the familiar click of the lock echoed in the quiet space. Then, there was the familiar voice that’s been in your mind for weeks.

“I’ve had enough with you,” Matt murmured, the words coming out low and rough from his chest. His body pushed against yours as he pinned you to the wall.

You gasped, your face becoming more flustered as you realized that Matt was naked. His body was sweaty, glistening in the soft light as it pressed against yours. Your breathing hitched, and your cock throbbed by the feeling of Matt’s warm, sweaty body and hard, heavy cock pressing against your thigh. It felt heavy and thick, and pearly precum oozed from the cockhead – smearing your skin with the translucent fluid.

“This is what you’ve done to me. For weeks, I had to listen to everything.” Matt said in a gravelly tone, rubbing his heavy erection against your thigh, showing you what you’ve done to him. The vigilante’s breathing was heavy as he grunted into your ears; the heat from your body sent waves of exhilaration through his body. The tingling feeling that had been torturing Matt for weeks was appeased.

You never expected something like this to happen, but your body was responding with your cock throbbing and your hole aching to be filled. You let out breathy moans as Matt gave sloppy kisses and bites against your neck, his worn hands groping and squeezing your flesh as he continued to get off. Your mind was becoming foggy, and your body was melting from the contact, as it had been a while since a man had last touched you.

“I know you want this. I can feel the way your body is reacting to me. How about you take responsibility?” Matt purred, grinning as you responded to his touches. Without a second thought, he picked you and slammed his mouth on yours, pulling you into a bruising, heated kiss as you were carried to your room.

You were impressed by how Matt carried you and his ability to know where your room was without ever being in your apartment. You weren’t complaining, though, whatever it takes to get this fine man into your bed.

After a few moments, you were pushed onto the bed. Matt didn’t let you move, manhandling you onto your back and his grip rough on your thighs as he folded you, your knees nearly touching your shoulders. The stretch was sharp, pulling on your muscles as Matt slots himself between your ass, slapping his heavy cock against your gaping hole. You could feel the cockhead teasing your entrance, pressing and applying pressure to your tight ring of muscle before pulling back.

Matt followed every gasp and sharp inhalation, adjusting his angle and position until his cockhead was pressing against your tight entrance. He could hear the way your whimpers and whines grow louder, the moans making his cock twitch and balls churn. The vigilante could tell that your hole was ready. You don’t need that flimsy dildo when there’s a real cock.

You felt the air being torn from your lungs as Matt sheathed his cock deep inside you. A strangled cry left your mouth as the thrust was brutal; you could feel Matt’s massive cock reach depths you never thought could be reached. Every inch dragged against every raw, untouched nerve, making your body tremble, and your hole clenched around the vigilante’s cock.

“Fuck.” Matt groans as he snaps his hips hard into yours, his hands gripping your thighs. His heavy balls slapped against your ass, and the wet squelching sound of sex echoed in the room. Matt’s eyes roll back, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he fucked your tight ass. This was a new feeling for him… he never thought fucking another man would feel so good.

“You’re fucking tight, surprisingly. Is this what you needed? A real cock instead of some plastic toy… fuck… I can’t stop… I can’t…” You whined, voice breaking from the rough thrusts as Matt picked up the pace. Your hands moved from the sides and clawed their way into the vigilante’s back, digging into the flesh and drawing some blood. Usually, if any other man did that, you would tell him to stop his advances, but Matt was different. You wanted him for the longest, more than any other sexual partner. You wanted him to ravage you and your body, let him fuck his frustration onto you.

And you got what you wanted, like you always do.

Matt had you like a caged animal, his weight pressing down and pinning you down on the mattress. He had an iron grip on your thighs, his teeth gritting as he hissed. You looked up to see the vigilante’s body covered in sweat, his hairline stuck to his forehead, and some drool seeping through his lips. He looked like a god, your god. You wanted to worship every inch of that body, and you considered your body as an offering to the man fucking you into the bed.

Your moans were louder than Matt had heard them, and it was all because of him. The vigilante became more vocal as he bottomed out, grinding deeply inside as his cockhead rammed repeatedly into your prostate, which left you seeing the stars. Your body was spasming, your mind clouded with sex and lust. This was better than anything you’ve ever experienced. All those dildos and men paled in comparison. None of those things mentioned ever made you feel this euphoric or feel like your whole body was going to shut down. Now that you’ve finally gotten the taste, the feel of Matt, you know you wanted more. You were gonna be addicted to this man forever.

“You’ve driven me insane… every time you touched yourself or some guy fucked you… You wanted me like this… now look at you.” Matt groaned, his voice shaking with each thrust, peering down at your disheveled face with a grin on his face. He watched as you choked out his name, drool dripping from the sides of your mouth as you had a fucked out expression. ‘What a slut’ was the only thought Matt could think as the rest of his brain was rotted by lust and desire. At first, he thought he was being too rough with you and opted to give light reprimands, but seeing you like this: completely cock drunk and begging for more for him to ravage your body gave him reassurances.

“Changing positions,” Matt said as he pulled his cock from your gaping hole. You whined and complained, missing the feeling of the man’s cock lodged deep inside your guts, that you didn’t hear what was said. “No need to get all pissy. You’ll get what you want again soon.” Matt said as he flipped you round and onto your stomach. You felt the soft, warm fabrics press against your sweaty front and leaking cock.

“P-please, please! Need you again! Please, please, please.” You cried and babble, your words drowning and mixing into an incomprehensible mess of cries, begging to be filled again. You began pushing your ass back – going as far as to pull your cheeks apart to show off your hole. Matt just scoffs at the sight before him, softly laughing as he watches you desperately try to get him back into your hole.

“Needy boy. Are you that much of a cock slut? Can’t stand being empty for too long?” Matt grunts as he grabs your hips and pulls you against his, slotting his massive cock between your cheeks. The vigilante groans and moans lowly as he uses your cheeks like a sex toy, gliding his meat and teasing your hole before pulling back. Matt could feel his orgasm approaching, biting his lips as his cock throbbed and his nuts tightening as a load of come was gonna burst from the tiny slit.

Without wasting any more time, Matt positioned his cock at your entrance and slammed back into your tight body. There wasn’t much resistance the second time. Your sweet ass hugged his cock perfectly, despite him splitting your hole open; it remained tight as a virgin. Matt finally understood the feelings those men experienced when they came over. With no hesitation, Matt began fucking you again like an animal during mating season. The familiar sounds of skin and ass clapping as a tingly sensation began to grow and spread in your guts.

“Does that feel good? Happy that you’re getting what you wanted?” Matt groaned as he leaned down onto you. You could feel the warmth and weight of the vigilante’s body pressing against you as he lowered himself. His massive, sweaty frame molded against yours as he pinned you down onto the bed with his body. His hips snapped forward, ramming directly into your prostate as he chased his orgasm. Your mind and body became slack as you were just enjoying being ravaged by Matt, your head buried in the sheets and your hands gripping the blankets.

“Y-yes. I’m so happy.” You replied, your voice muffled. You faintly hear ruffling and feel the space beside your head dip into the mattress. Then, a meaty arm – bicep – wrapped around your chin and held you tightly against Matt’s head, his breath whizzing past your ear as he nibbled and bit it. What an amazing position: pressed under the man you wanted since the first day you moved in, the helplessness, and the rush. You were unequivocally his in the moment.

Which you wanted to last forever.

Matt’s pace quickened as he dragged his cock in and out of your sensitive hole. With each thrust, each push into your tight, warm hole made the vigilante feel breathless. He would groan and grunt into your ear with satisfaction and approval. Guess you were getting to him now. You untangled one hand from the blankets and tangled it in Matt’s soft brown hair, encouraging the man to continue his ministrations. You even started kissing the man’s biceps, which was approved with a precise thrust that sent your nerves and mind on fire.

“You feel so good. Should've done this since the first time you started becoming a nuisance.” Matt said into your ear before moving down to your shoulders. You yelped in pain and pleasure as the vigilante dug his teeth into your flesh. Matt feasts as he leaves bites, hickies, and some bruises on your shoulder as if you were a canvas and his marks were the art.

“I’m gonna, fuck… gonna!” Your ability to speak was limited as your body was going through the throes of an orgasm. As your orgasm built up, your hole clenched around Matt’s cock, feet curling, and fingers digging into the other man’s body. Your cock was grinding against the sheets and your stomach as your balls tightened.

“Tell me how much you want this. How much do you want my cum inside you?” Matt moans as his breathing and thrusts become more erratic and uncoordinated. He was teetering on the brink of his orgasm as he felt your hole clenching around him, pulling his cock deeper into the depths of your ass. His heavy balls pressed against yours as he halted his thrusts, attempting to hold back until you gave him a reply.

“I want your cum inside me! Please, please, please… cum in my hole!” You begged, and Matt granted you your wish. He gave a few more thrusts before giving one final thrust, slamming completely inside your hole. Matt let out a loud bellow and groan. You felt his cock twitching as ropes of hot, thick cum spurted and splattered your insides. The sensation of being filled and bred like a whore caused your cock to spurt its load. Matt’s hold on you tightened as he continued to cum – having been backed up. A week's worth of cum painting your insides white.

After that, everything blacked out. Matt, on the other hand, was spent after fucking and breeding you. His body was exhausted and slack as he rested against yours, sleep overcoming him.

…

The mornings after were always tough and a pain in the ass. Literally, yet, you felt alive and satisfied, something that your other sexual partners never gave. They would usually leave after having their way with you, but not this time. You felt content for the first time in a long time, despite the clear, enraging pain in your lower and upper body. Warmth continued to spread through you when you realized Matt stayed the night – and he was cuddling you! His body tangled with yours as if he refused to let go of you. His strong arms keep you in place as he buries his head into your neck. His soft, slow breaths glide over your skin with some shuffles in between.

Something snapped you out of the blissful morning. A thick, throbbing piece of meat is still lodged deep inside your ass. Matt never pulled out, and it seems the man was having the classic morning wood case that every man has experienced in the mornings. The idea that you kept Matt’s cock warm all night made your cock awaken. You were sure the man didn’t mind having a helping hand with his problem.

Angling yourself into a comfortable position, you began to push back against Matt. You made sure to muffle your moans as you rode the vigilante’s cock for the second time. As his cock went deeper, you could feel the cum dumped into you sloshing around your guts – the most erotic thing you’ve experienced. Matt’s breathing tightened and quickened as his grasp on your body became impossible to escape from. The vigilant began fucking you while he was still in a deep sleep, unaware that he was fucking and going to breed you again for the second time in under a few hours.

The room was silent besides the muffled moans, quiet groans, balls clapping, and the wet squelching as some leftover cum began to leak out as Matt started to thrust into your hole. You choked and swallowed as the man was hitting all your pressure points again. It seemed Matt wasn’t going to last long with the knowledge that his cock is sensitive from the nights and your ass is essentially milking him of every drop of cum.

As predicted, Matt didn’t last long as he gave a few more thrusts before dumping another thick load of cum deep inside – adding more to last night. The vigilante’s body went slack as he pulled you closer. You sighed as sleep overtook you again, leaning into Matt’s warmth and comforting body.

…

Perhaps Matt was ghosting you? Or just ignoring your presence.

Ever since that day, Matt readily ignored you. He never returned any waves or responded to anything you said. With hindsight, maybe you came on a little too hard, but that would be an understatement: the understatement of the century. The encounter between you and Matt could be classified as just rage-fueled sex, as the man was furious with you. There were no connections, but you felt one.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to do all of that. Perhaps you should’ve just introduced yourself and taken the normal route to gain someone’s affection, and cut off all your flings to certify your attraction to the man. You internally facepalmed at your shortcomings. You might have ruined any real opportunity to have a real connection with someone besides the lackluster, no-strings-attached flings.

You missed the awkward conversation during the mornings whenever you two bumped into each other – awkward because Matt listened to everything and had a faint blush on his cheeks.

Maybe you should’ve managed your stressful life in another way other than emotionless sex. Maybe you should’ve taken the leap of faith and approached Matt instead of being a coward and drowning out of your sorrows with sex – at least rejection would be more bearable than now.

Ever since that day, you cut off all your flings, deleting their numbers or blocking them. You ceased any sexual desires with other people, opting to use the various sex toys for pleasure. Of course, it wasn’t the same. You missed the actual connection, if there ever was one. Perhaps you were being delusional? Possibly delusional and desperate for the touch of another man.

Matt sensed the changes. For one, the insistent noises ceased, but it was replaced with quiet whimpers and sobs with the occasional moans and bed creaking as you rode your dildo to a pathetic orgasm. Unsatisfied. Your waves and wanting to have small talk ceased as well, but that was a result of him, which felt wrong for some reason. That tugged something in the man’s chest, pulling on his strings as it ripped out of him. What were these feelings? He didn’t know how to feel and ceased communication with you. Assuming that it would fade away, but it didn’t.

Did he have an attraction towards you? That was impossible. He despised you as a neighbor for being a nuisance and bothering him. He shouldn’t have these feelings for you. Maybe he did, though. After having sex with you, he would awake during the night and observe. He watched your sleeping form with precision as he took in everything about you: the way you snored or moved closer to him for comfort. He had all the chances and time in the world to leave and return to his apartment, but he didn’t.

He stayed behind and relished the comfort. Matt tried to reason that he fucked you out of rage, but he remembers leaving kisses on your lips and cheeks while soothing your aching muscles. He remembers cuddling you, wanting to give you the best comfort – perhaps he wanted to prove that he was superior to your other flings who left you high and dry.

It also doesn’t help when he realizes that you cut off your other flings – pride swelled inside him. He proved that he was better to the point where you didn’t want another man’s touch. You only wanted him – wanted his touch and affection. Maybe he did feel some type of way towards you, and it wasn’t the hate kind. To prevent his work and vigilante life from being affected, Matt was going to confront you.

…

You lie motionless in bed, scrolling on your phone with soft blankets covering your body. You didn’t feel like doing anything other than wallowing around and being dark. Usually on the weekends, you would be either productive, lazy, or having sex. You were succeeding in the lazy part, but that’s been going on for weeks after work, and worse on the weekends. It was stupid to be hung over a man who only fucked you because you were too much of an annoyance – best sex you’ve ever had though.

Knock, knock, knock

Three strong knocks pulled you from your thoughts. You groaned with annoyance as you pulled yourself out of bed, your bones snapped, and muscles ached due to the lack of exercise and movement. You shuffled slowly towards the door as another round of knocking began, groaning and mumbling under your breath that you’re coming. You didn’t know who was behind the door, most definitely not your family, so you assumed it was a friend or a co-worker coming to check in to see if you’re okay.

Opening the door, you didn’t expect to see Matt standing there.

“Hey, just thought we could have a chat,” Matt said without wasting time. You looked gobsmacked, analyzing Matt, who wore a simple outfit – plus his familiar glasses – and was gripping his cane. You were in a daze as your eyes raked over Matt’s body and face, your heart fluttering as it returned from the dead. The warmth you felt those days ago came back.

“Oh, sure, come in.” You replied, snapping out of daze and moving to the side to let Matt into the apartment. You followed close behind after closing the door. A pit was forming in your gut, nervous about what the man wanted to talk to you about. Your heart is pounding, and your ears are ringing as Matt takes a seat on the couch.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” You asked, taking long strides as you controlled your breathing before taking a seat not that far from where Matt was sitting.

“Well, I feel like we should start from the beginning. I’ve agreed with myself that I…” Matt paused, his words stuck in his throat as he attempted to say what he wanted to say. All those hours of practice wasted. “I like you.” You blinked twice – and your eyes darted around as you processed what Matt said to you. He likes you. He reciprocated your feelings. Now, the words were stuck in your throat.

“You like me?” You replied. Matt nodded in confirmation with a small smile on his face. You didn’t know what to feel in the moment, as your emotions were bouncing from relief to happiness to sadness.

“Yes, I do. Despite everything that happened. I’m sure you felt the same connection as I did, correct?” You nodded with a massive smile on your face.

“With that cleared, would you like to go out with me?”

THE END

Author’s Note: Hello, my strawberries! After a couple of months, this is completed and just in time for my Tumblr anniversary! Five years since I joined Tumblr and wrote fanfics for the masses. I hoped y’all enjoyed this, as I felt like it became sappy towards the end.

Very special thanks to my proofreader: @sagethegaywitch

Price smirked to himself smugly as he walked out of the guest bedroom, sure you were definitely knocked out by your post-nut clarity.

He quietly made his way back to his bedroom he shared with his wife, softly opening the door to find her still fast asleep.

She always was out like a light after a good round of sex, which came in handy for a time like this. Price didn't really want to have intercourse with her tonight, but he couldn't risk being caught having extramarital affairs with the gardener.

It was hard to be engaged with his wife as he should naturally be, but doggy style came in handy for tonight. It made it easier for him to pretend his wife was you when he couldn't see her cunt, pretending he was fucking a young man's asshole instead.

He stared at her for a bit as he then continued to their shared bathroom, the door clicking shut softly behind him. He locked it as an extra security measure which he knew he didn't need, but he honestly didn't want to be disturbed at the moment.

He looked down at his right hand which was still covered in your cum, as it began to dry into crust.

"Bloody fuckin' hell," he groaned out as he yanked down his sweatpants to reveal his achy cock and his taut ballsack.

He placed his cum covered hand over his cock, stroking it up and down slowly, squeezing whenever he got towards the sensitive head.

He rubbed his thumb on the bulging red head, mixing his precum with your spunk, using it as makeshift lube.

Price leaned back onto the bathroom door as he increased his speed, using his left hand to roll his balls simultaneously.

"Fuck - !" He gritted out in between clenched teeth, his breathing ragged and heavy.

Sweat beaded at his scalp as he clenched his muscles, feeling pressure building up more and more.

"Christ, kid! Got me all worked up like a fuckin' teenager 'ere," he panted out as he began thrusting his hips into his hand.

He closed his eyes as he pretended his hand was your tight asshole wrapped around his cock, imagining how good it would feel when he has the time to ravage it, and ravage it he will.

His mouth twitched as he called out your name as he came, his spunk covering his hand, dripping down onto his sweatpants and the bathroom floor.

He let out a puff of air as he slowed down his pace, squeezing at the head to get all his hot cum out.

He went limp against the bathroom door as he panted, wiping sweat off his brow.

He looked down at his hand seeing his spunk mixed with yours, bringing it up to his mouth to lick his hand clean.

"Fuck...!" He panted out with a slight chuckle, pushing off the door to clean up the mess he had made.

He walked out of the bathroom some minutes later, quietly climbing into bed next to his sleeping wife, who was unaware of the pain her husband was causing her and their family.

-

You were so fucked.

You lay on your back in the guest bedroom staring up at the ceiling as you kept replaying last night's events in your mind.

The post-nut clarity added in your half-sleep state caused a lapse in judgment making you feel practically nothing at all.

Until this morning when upon waking up everything came down at you at once. The guilt, the fear, the nervousness, and the disgust all settled in full force.

You could hear the Price-Morrison family rustling about downstairs as they were getting the girls ready to go to primary today.

You shifted to lie on your side as you shut your eyes, still weighing in on last night's incident.

"It felt quite good," you thought as you quickly shook those thoughts away, "I'm such an arsehole. I shouldn't be thinkin' that at all."

"Why am I even considerin' that last night was good. He's cheating on his wife! His wife who went through IVF twice for bloody sake!" you scolded yourself as you slowly sat up in bed.

You sighed as you sat on the edge of the bed, mustering up courage to face the music.

"Was last night even consensual? I mean, I was asleep for who knows how long when he was fondling me," you muttered out in a low voice, running a hand over your face.

"I don't feel violated oddly enough," you thought as you frowned at the lack of feeling disturbed. "Maybe I'm not right in the head."

You begrudgingly got up from bed and out of the room to freshen up for the day.

Upon entering the bathroom and locking the door, you stared at yourself in the mirror. You took a deep and thorough look at yourself, scraping away at your inner thoughts and demons.

"You're a fuckin' homewrecker, mate," you said to yourself in a monotone voice, furrowing as you looked at yourself in the eye.

"I should've punched him or somethin', but...," your voice trailed off, "I don't want to break a family apart. Plus, would he hurt me for bringing this to light? Most likely."

-

Truth be told, Price had been keeping a close eye on you this whole time.

At first, it was just to see if you were truly competent and not a security risk to his family, but it turned into something else quite quickly.

It wasn't until that one day in the garden when he caught you zoning out watching a caterpillar crawling about that made him start to direct him off path.

Next, it was that day you were inside his home, which he never recalled permitting you to enter, and saw how much Amelia had taken a liking to you, and your breakfast burritos.

Then, it was finding out you weren't on the best of terms with your parents, and that they still lived overseas.

Lastly, it was when he stumbled upon you and his wife mingling after you got caught up in the rain outside that made him break.

Seeing the way your wet clothes clung to your body showing off your curves, made him come to his senses.

He knew he had to have you that night, he was an impatient man after all. He nearly contemplated barging in and making you keep quiet as he had his way with you, but he couldn't do that.

Too risky plus, he didn't want to scare you away. That would cause problems that couldn't be solved that easily.

He knew you would be his one day, he just needed to find a way to execute his plan without any problems.

It was easy for a former SAS Captain, he had access to military software he legally shouldn't have access to, and he wasn't afraid to get dirty or do something extremely unorthodox to fulfill his mission.

He's done worse things before, but it didn't really bother him.

He did what he had to do.

-

You came downstairs just as the front door closed shut and you saw Mr. Price standing in the kitchen, leaning against the island as he drank his tea.

"Fuck!" you muttered under your breath as you contemplated sneaking upstairs, glancing over your shoulder.

"You there?" Price called out to you as you jumped in surprise, his form steadily approaching you.

You pressed your lips together as you held onto the stair railing tighter, "... Yeah, good morning, sir."

You said in a slightly shaky tone as you hesitantly let go of the railing, taking the last steps down.

The two of you stood in front of one another as you realized the size difference between two you. You could tell beneath his clothing he was a bit muscular, most likely with a layer of fat with how his stomach kinda pops out a bit through his shirt.

"I'm not that muscular even with all the gardening work. No way I can take him on if things get violent," you thought to yourself.

"You sleep well?" he asked as he swayed on his feet, looking at you with a soft expression.

You nodded your head as you rubbed your pointer and thumb together, "Quite well, actually. Didn't wake up once at all last night."

Price let out a small chuckle, "That's good." He said as his eyes roamed over your figure, making you remember you are still wearing his clothes.

"Last night help a lot? You still feelin' relaxed 'cause I am more than welcome to do that again." He said in a low tone as he took a step closer to you.

You took a step back as you nearly fell back from your heel smacking into one of the steps of the stairs.

Price easily steadied you, "You broken?" He asked in a concerned tone as his hands remained perched on your hips.

You nodded your head as you let out a shaky exhale, feeling your heart beating a mile a minute, your body beginning to tremble slightly.

"Sir, um... about last night. I don't think we should repeat that, I mean - I don't wanna ruin your marriage," you said in a slightly shaky, concerned tone.

Price furrowed his eyebrows at your words, "Last night was to jus' help you relax, that's all to it. I can tell you're tense and judging by your resume and seein' all the jobs you took - you don't get to rest, do ya?"

Price explained in a soft, worried tone as his hands rubbed at your hips in a comforting manner. A manner in which you saw him treating his wife whenever she was stressed out. You kept your hands on each side of you, feeling conflicted.

"I'm guessin' your parents aren't helpin' you out causin' you to pick up as many jobs as you could, ain't that right?" Price asked as he was quite observant, had to be when you were in the SAS.

You stayed quiet as he was right on the spot as to what you've been up to since graduating uni, "... That's correct, sir."

Price smacked his lips as he raised his eyebrows, "I know I am. And what I said last night was all true, jus' helpin you relax, that's all. Can't have you collapsing on the job, it'll make the girls worried sick."

You paused at the mention of his two daughters as you pressed your lips together, looking down at your feet.

"Jus' take it easy, yeah?" He said as he bent his knees to make eye contact with you.

You looked up at him as he then closed the distance between the two of you, pressing a quick peck on your lips.

He then pulled back as if nothing was wrong and walked back to the kitchen, "You hungry? The missus made some breakfast f'r you this morning."

The news that Mrs. Morrison was kind enough to cook you breakfast made you feel even more guilty. You felt your heart constricting in your chest as you stayed rooted in place.

"No, I'm not hungry, but I appreciate her kindness." you said in a low, polite tone, forcing a smile on your face.

Price furrowed his eyebrows, "Nonsense, come and eat." He said in a worried but stern tone that made you move from your spot.

You gingerly took a seat at the dining table as Price heated the breakfast that was left for you.

"Dig in, lad." He said as he took a seat on the chair to the left of you, sipping on his tea.

You nodded as you ate the food in silence, "It tastes really good, sir."

It tasted like nothing.

⌜A/N: Damn, I'm on a roll. I know it doesn't seem that obvious in the previous two chapters that Price was eyeing you, but he's a former captain of the SAS - he's not gonna make it obvious. His manipulation is also not gonna seem too cruel at the surface level. His true colors are showing bit by bit. Sorry, Mrs. Morrison. I know this chapter is lacking, but trust chapter 4 will feed you extremely well!⌟

⌜⚠️: I do NOT consent to my work being trained by AI or an AI bot based on my work. I do NOT consent to my work being uploaded to other sites! If you wish to write a spinoff based on my work, you may do so as long as you credit me! Artwork is also welcomed with credit!⌟

⌜Tag List: @unsolvetheheckoutofit ⌟

It was a cloudy day as the trees slightly rustled with the wind that was blowing very gently, causing the weather to be slightly chilly.

You could sense it was gonna rain today which would make it perfect to remove the weeds that Mrs. Morrison spotted the other day.

You were trimming the trees as it was completely silent save for the occasional sound of nature filling the air.

You were engrossed in your work as time became forgotten, your surroundings fading into the void as you ensured the trees were trimmed beautifully.

The clouds darkening and the smell of incoming rain were tuned out completely as it wasn't until the raindrops falling snapped you out of your zen.

You gathered your tools when the rain began to fall harder as you cursed out, "Fuckin' hell!"

You ran towards the side porch as you were completely soaked in just a few seconds as thunder roared in the sky.

The side door slid open as Mrs. Morrison spotted you, "Oh, Christ Almighty! You're absolutely soakin'!"

She gasped out in a worried tone, hand over her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Morrison. I was too in my work trimmin' the trees that I didn't notice it was about to rain." You explained with a sheepish laugh.

"You oughta pay more attention next time. Come in, now before you get sick!" She said as she waved her hands to usher you inside.

"I apologize for the mess," you mumbled out as you took off your shoes at the porch along with your socks.

You stepped in as rainwater dripped onto the polished floor, creating small puddles.

"Ah, no worries. It's jus water, can just mop it all up." She said as she quickly scurried for a towel, wrapping it around you.

"Bathrooms right here, now. I'm sure John's clothes will fit you f'r the time bein'. Place your clothes right here and I'll have them washed." She said in a comforting tone, ever so friendly.

You shook your head, "You're too kind, Mrs. Morrison."

"None of that," she said as she waved you off as Mr. Price came into view.

His eyebrows raised at your wet form, your clothing stuck to you as it showed off every curve of your body.

Mr. Price cleared his throat as he looked back up at you, "Thought I said we don't take in rescues, Becca."

Price murmured out with a small smirk causing Mrs. Morrison to smack her hand on her husband's chest, "Bugger off, will ya!?"

She rolled her eyes as she shook her head, but the corner of her lips curled up with amusement.

"Get washed up, son. Don't wanna get sick, or us sick, we all just barely recovered from the warfare Olivia put us all through." Price said with a smile on his face, his eyebrows raised.

You nodded your head, "Yeah, can't have that now, can we?" you said with a small chuckle as you softly shut the bathroom door.

-

You walked out of the bathroom wearing one of Mr. Price's shirts and sweatpants that were big on you. The collar of the shirt nearly slipped off your shoulder while the sweatpants had to be folded at the legs.

The jawstring allowed you to tighten it to fit your waist, but other than that it was no issue.

You could hear chatter coming from the kitchen as the Price-Morrison family was gathered around the island.

Olivia noticed you as she climbed off the stool and ran towards your form, grabbing onto your arm.

"Mum's makin' hot chocolate! You need to try it!" Olivia gleamed as you let out a small chuckle.

The girls have both grown fond of you over the past month, having been working for Mr. Price and Mrs. Price for two months now.

"I will be more than welcome to! I bet it's delicious!" You said to Olivia as you sat on a stool, Olivia on your right and Mr. Price to your left.

"Taste bloody good, not jus' sayin' that cause she's m'wife." Mr. Price said as he leaned over to talk to you, a small smile on his face.

You chuckled, "I don't doubt you, sir. Or you Olivia!" you said as you turned to Olivia who smiled showing off her newly missing tooth.

"Hot chocolate's ready! Amelia and Olivia, it's hot! So don't go diggin' in right from the start, let it cool!" She said in a stern tone as she pointed at the two girls who nodded their heads.

"Thank you, sweetheart." Mr. Price said as he pecked Mrs. Morrison on the lips causing the two girls to gag at the sight of their parents' love.

"Why yer gaggin', aye? Don't like the fact that mummy and daddy are quite deeply in love, hm?" Price said as he teased his two girls.

Olivia gagged as she pointed a finger in her mouth, "Kissin' is nasty! I'm never, ever, ever gonna kiss anyone!"

Olivia said in a determined tone, shaking her head as she folded her arms across her chest.

"I agree with that, darlin'." Mr. Price said with a nod as Mrs. Morrison swatted him on his back.

"I was thinkin' of all of us watching a movie after this," Mrs. Morrison said as she took a sip from her hot chocolate.

"That sounds good," Mr. Price agreed as he took his phone out to check on something.

"Blimey! It's gonna be stormin' all night. I don't think you'll be able to go home in this state, son." Mr. Price said as he turned to look at you.

"I had a feelin'. I hope it's no trouble for me to stay here," you said in a soft tone.

Mrs. Morrison and Mr. Price both shook their heads, "Nonsense, it's no trouble at all." Mr. Price said in a low tone.

"We have a guest room you can stay in for today," Mrs. Morrison said as she smiled at you softly.

You nodded your head, "Thank you for the kindness." You said in a grateful tone.

"Does that mean you can make your breakfast burrito for me tomorrow morning?" Amelia interrupted the conversation as she turned to look at you, her eyes sparkling at the thought of eating your food again.

Mr. Price and Mrs. Morrison laughed at Amelia's antics, "Yes, Amelia. You can eat one of his famous breakfast burritos tomorrow."

Mrs. Morrison said as Amelia let out a squeal, "Yay!"

"Glad I have a loyal customer on my hands," you mumbled out as you took a sip of the hot chocolate.

"Damn right you do," Mr. Price said as he shook his head in amusement at Amelia's addiction to your breakfast burritos.

-

You and Price were doing the dishes while the girls were picking the movie. You could hear Olivia and Amelia going back and forth as to which movie they wanted to watch.

"You don't have to help me with the dishes, you know?" Price said as he glanced at you as he washed the mugs.

You shrugged your shoulders, "It's not a problem, sir." You said with a small smile, washing the plates as he had made a small dinner after the five of you drank the hot chocolate.

"So, other than gardening, what do you do?" Price asked as he placed the mug to dry off on a rack.

"Uh, nothing much honestly. I either do some readin' or jus' watch the telly, maybe the occasional video game." You answered in a meek tone, your ears turning red.

Price chuckled at your response, "Youngsters and their telly and video games, hm? Quite the opposite of what we had in my day."

"Was the Battle of Yorktown hard? It must've hurt to have to surrender," you said as you couldn't help but laugh at your own jab.

Price tightened his jaw as he shook his head, "How did a muppet like you pass the interview? I must've made the wrong decision."

He mumbled out as he smacked his lips, "Should've gone with Burton."

You snorted at his teasing, "You can't blame me, sir. You kinda set the field for me."

Price flicked an eyebrow, "Guess I did, aye?"

-

A pick was finally made as the girls came to terms with watching Paddington.

Mr. Price sat next to his wife while Amelia perched herself right on his lap, and Olivia tucked herself against her mother's side.

You sat at the furthest place on the single armchair, feeling like you're intruding on precious family time, but Amelia demanded your presence.

You couldn't say 'no' to her puppy dog eyes as you quickly gave in, never stood a chance against her in the first place.

The movie played as the two girls were entranced by the movie, staying quiet and laughing at the parts they found funny.

Amelia ended up falling asleep towards the end of the movie while Olivia was yawning nonstop.

"Goodnight, Amelia and Olivia." You said in a soft voice to the two girls as Amelia was carried to bed by Mr. Price as she rubbed her eyes.

"Night," she said in a sleepy voice as Olivia murmured out a 'goodnight' as she walked to her bedroom.

"Goodnight, Mr. Price and Mrs. Morrison." You said to your bosses with a small smile as they returned the farewell phrase.

You softly closed the guest bedroom door as you yawned out, watching movies had always made you tired especially when you watched after sunset.

You walked towards the bed as you removed the millions of throw pillows decorating the bed and placed them into the closet, having nowhere else to put them without being disrespectful.

You climbed into the bed as it creaked slightly with your movement, pulling the thick duvet up to your chest, reaching over to flick the bedside lamp off.

You lay on your side as you closed your eyes, feeling your body go lax and the sound of rain outside with the occasional thunder lulling you to deep slumber.

-

It was sometime in the night when you felt the sensation of hands running over your body as you let out a groan.

Sleep Paralysis was your first thought as you were prone to having episodes, once having six back-to-back episodes in one night.

You frowned as you felt yourself moving your fingers which signaled you were indeed not having a sleep paralysis episode, but the sensation of hands touching you was still there.

Alarmed, your eyes snapped open as you tried to sit up straight only to feel a hand press itself against your chest, pinning you to the mattress.

It was Mr. Price, "Shh! Shh! It's jus' me son, you're alright."

Price cooed at you as he was sitting on the edge of the bed, creaking as he maneuvered himself to hover over your form.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage, your face contorted with nervousness, shock, fear, and confusion at the situation.

"Mr. Price, what are you - !?" You couldn't finish your own sentence as your body began to tremble, a lump forming in your throat.

"It's alright, jus' gonna take care of you that's all, hm?" Price whispered into your ear, his beard prickling at your ear while his breath tickled the skin.

"I know tendin' to the garden can be rather stressful, so I'm gonna help you relax," Price said as his voice shook with just as his right hand trailed down from your chest to your crotch.

You jolted at the inappropriate touch as you let out a strangled noise, body tensing up as you avoided his gaze.

Price let out a groan as he ground his clothed erection against your thigh, making you shudder.

"Fuckin' hell," Price gasped out as he began pressing kisses down your neck, his warm breath adding to the sensation.

You felt your cock twitching to life which made you take aback at how you could find this pleasurable. This wasn't consensual one bit, how can you be turned on at a time like this?

Price leaned on his haunches as he yanked off your sweatpants and underwear in one go, the fabrics landing on the floor with a small thump.

You let out a strangled noise as Price wrapped his hand around your cock, tugging at it gently. Your hips jolted from the electric-like feeling due to having been a while since you've rubbed one out. It felt a bit wet as you assumed he had either spit or licked his hand prior.

"Jus' relax, I got you." Price said as he was breathing quite heavily, his own sweatpants showing a small stain from how much precum he was leaking.

You pressed your lips together tightly to prevent any noise from escaping.

"Am I really gonna let him do this!?" you thought to yourself as you felt your cock leaking from how good his hands felt on you.

"Christ, yer leakin' all over my fuckin' hand." Price groaned out as his thumb rubbed over your slit, making you let out a muffled whine.

You felt sweat begin to bead at your forehead as your hands gripped the sheets tightly.

Your eyes were squeezed shut which made the pleasure even more intense, forcing your senses to zero in on the feeling of your married boss's hand on your cock.

Price rubbed his thumb over the sensitive head of your cock for what felt like eternity before sliding down to the base. His hand then twisted back up as he squeezed at the head, repeating these actions as his eyes analyzed your body.

Your chest rose and fell quickly as all you could hear was the sound of his breathing and the occasional settling of the house.

Your eyes snapped open as you tensed up at the feeling of his thumb pressing against your asshole.

"Sir - !?" you croaked out as he smirked down at you, chuckling softly as his thumb rubbed against your anus, making it relax.

"Quiet, don't want to be caught now, hm?" Price said as he stared at you with a look demanding your obedience.

You shuddered at his gaze as you wondered how many of his soldiers saw that expression.

"That's it, good boy." He cooed as he then spat at his hand, wrapping it around your cock once more as he began a fast pace.

The change of speed made you convulse in pleasure, your back arching off the bed as you grasped at his bicep, letting out a moan that was a bit too loud.

"Shh, I know it feels good but we can't be wakin' up the others." Price chastised you playfully as he then leaned down to press a kiss to you, his beard scratching at your skin.

"This'll keep you quiet," he mumbled out as he began kissing you quite passionately, letting out soft groans into the kiss.

It felt like you were burning up inside as his tongue pushed into your mouth, tasting faintly like toothpaste. You never had a kiss this steamy before as it added to your pleasure, feeling yourself growing closer to finishing.

''This is so fucked up,'' you thought in your head as you felt the pressure in your loins building up more and more. You couldn't turn back as you began squirming underneath your boss, moaning more and more into the kiss.

Price broke the kiss as he pulled back to look over you, his breathing heavy and ragged.

You felt your cock twitching, letting out a small mewl.

"I'm gonna cum, sir!" you gasped out as you opened your eyes, looking at him with tears prickling at your waterline, your face flushed red.

Price scrunched his face up as he let out a long groan, "Oh, fuck me! You gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my fuckin' hand, yeah?"

Price panted out as he kept the same pace, feeling your cock pulsing in his hands.

You let out a puff of air as you tensed up your body, "Mhm! Gonna cum all over - fuck!"

You gritted out between clenched teeth as you blinked your eyes rapidly, causing some tears to drip down your cheeks.

Price smirked at the sight of you, "Go on, then. Cum."

You did just that as you squeezed your eyes shut, head thrown back as your jugular veins bulged out of your neck. Your hips thrusted up into his hands as you came letting out small moans, your body trembling from the force of your orgasm.

You went limp as a thin layer of sweat covered your body, breathing shakily as you forced air back into your lungs. You had your eyes squeezed shut as you felt Price playing with your hair.

"Atta boy," he breathed out as he pressed a quick kiss to your lips, "You relax now, hm?"

You slowly opened your eyes as you took in his soft face, "... Yeah, feel relaxed, sir."

You answered in an out-of-breath tone, licking your lips.

Price nodded as he leaned back, "Good. Now go back to sleep, son. Good night."

Price said as he stood up from the bed, his hand still stained with your cum.

You blinked slowly as you turned onto your side, hearing the door to the guest room softly click shut.

You should feel guilty, disgusted even, but you felt none of that at all.

How odd.

⌜A/N: Things are getting steamy! Hope you enjoy this part! Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors. Despite previously stating updates might be slow, I have a new chapter out the next day. I can't promise it'll happen again since I don't plan out my stories, I just go with the flow.⌟

⌜⚠️: I do NOT consent to my work being trained by AI or an AI bot based on my work. I do NOT consent to my work being uploaded to other sites! If you wish to write a spinoff based on my work, you may do so as long as you credit me! Artwork is also welcomed with credit! ⌟

⌜Tag List: @unsolvetheheckoutofit ⌟

“This is stupid,” Ilya grumbles as Y/N carefully ties a sling around his uninjured arm.

“You have to look like you strained your deltoid, or they’ll ask questions,” the goaltender replies, finishing the knot and adjusting it. “Not too tight?”

“You are cutting off my blood,” the Russian responds, but Y/N just smiles, patting him on the back.

“Remember, it hurts, but not too bad,” he says.

“Yes, yes, I am not a pussy,” Ilya drawls, waving him off. “You better not lose this. I am the best, but you guys cannot drag my name down against the Metros.”

Y/N snorts softly, leading him out to his car. They were in their pre-game suits, and Y/N looked rather ravishing. Ilya swears he’s put on more muscle in the last few days since his boyfriend had been in town, although he has to refrain from wondering what kinds of activities could have that effect. “Shane says the arena’s already packed,” he mutters as he drives. “And you’re not even playing tonight.”

“I am just that good,” Ilya retorts, chuckling when Y/N rolls his E/C eyes. “What? It is true, I am most handsome player.”

“Sure,” the goaltender muses. “That’s not objective at all.”

They somehow manage to avoid the media storm, slipping in the back doors unnoticed. They part at the locker rooms, an attendant guiding Ilya to the executive box, usually reserved for the WAGs and family of the players. Y/N had a feeling that Ilya would enjoy the WAG box.

Y/N gets changed with the rest of the team. Marleau is the alternate captain, and was taking his job very seriously, giving a loud speech before the game starts that had Y/N wishing for an angry, defeated Ilya over a determined Marleau’s monologue.

Finally, they skate out, and Y/N spots Shane instantly, ready by the centre. He holds back from waving, but they exchange soft nods. On the ice, they were enemies.

It starts out rough, with two goals for the Metros in the first ten minutes. Y/N feels off, a bit slow. This wasn't uncommon, but he knew he had to get his head in the game. There were hundreds of people wearing his jersey tonight – he couldn't let them down.

He feels so ashamed as he misses easy shots, each blare of the horn like a high-pitched scream in his ear. Fuck, what was he doing? It's 5-1, they're losing so fucking badly. This was an embarrassment to his career.

The more pucks he missed, the worse his confidence became. He could feel the disappointment oozing from the crowd, from his teammates, even Ilya. Every time he glances over, he’s stone-faced, staring at anyone but Y/N.

An unfamiliar feeling of anger washes over him as he misses yet another save just before the game ends, leaving them at 8-2. Without thinking, he furiously smashes his stick against the goal post, snapping it in two, before skating off as the end of game horn blares. He’s never truly gotten angry over hockey before. He’s never really gotten angry at anything before. His chest heaves, tears of frustration blurring his vision.

His teammates don't say a word to him, the scowl on his face enough to make anyone back away. Their usually quiet and neutral goalie was seething. All that was running through his mind was finding Shane and melting into his embrace.

He waits outside the locker rooms for a long time, but the Canadian never comes out. He pokes his head inside to see the room empty, only a few empty water bottles strewn around. He silently puts the bottles into the recycling bin, before walking down the corridor, clenching his jaw.

He spots a man, but it's not Shane or Ilya – it's Hayden Pike, typing on his phone. Y/N stays silent, turning the corner, but Pike says, “Morgan, right? Don't think we've met.”

Y/N sighs softly, turning to him. “Not really.”

“You’re my ex-wife’s favorite player,” he smiles. “She’s got your jersey and everything.”

“Okay.” Y/N awkwardly nods, trying to ignore the fact he wants to kick the nearest wall.

“I mean, I get why. You’re like… incredible. Shane always complements your games. Says you're the best goalie he’s met. I totally agree.” Hayden seems blissfully unaware of Y/N’s annoyance. His cheerful demeanour was doing everything but making the E/C-eyed man feel better, but he knew it was rude to just walk away. He mutters a thanks, shifting his bag onto his other shoulder.

“Can I get your autograph sometime? For Jackie,” Pike asks, not really catching the hint that Y/N wanted to be left alone. “I think I've got some–”

“I have to run,” Y/N quickly says. “Next time, we’re in Montreal in three weeks.”

Pike nods, smiling widely. “Cool. We should go out for drinks too, just two guys, talking guy-stuff.”

Y/N slowly nods, slightly scared of the man’s forwardness, but finally, he shuffles away, intent on finding his boyfriend. He searches all around the arena, wondering if he’d gone home already.

After another ten minutes of looking, he can't find anyone, and his emotions boil over. He rubs his face angrily, just wanting to go home and to bed. Shane said he’d wait for him. Where the hell was he? He presses his forehead against a wall, palms flat to the plasterboard. Stupid fucking game.

A gentle hand rests on his lower back. “Slow down, pretty boy. Breathe.” Ilya’s murmur spread relief throughout his system. His knees almost buckle, melting into his arms. Tears of anger and disappointment wet his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“For what?” Ilya quietly asks, a hand moving to rub his back soothingly.

“Losing, and getting mad,” he whispers, nuzzling into his neck. He’s pleasantly surprised with how warm the Russian is, and how good he smells. He thought only Shane could comfort him in this way. It was… confusing.

“Losing is fine,” Ilya mutters. “It happens.”

“You said–” Y/N argues.

“I said, he said, she said.” The blond pulls back to stare into his E/C eyes. “You did your best. Is all I can ask for. End of.”

Y/N swallows thickly, letting the words sink in. He’d expected Ilya to be furious, or at the very least annoyed, as he was whenever they lost prior. As if reading his mind, Ilya chuckles, “I get mad because I know I did not perform my best. Not because the team let me down in any way.” He raises a hand to gently trace Y/N’s jawline. “Too hard on yourself. Must let go.”

The goalie shrugs, mumbling, “What about the stick?”

“Forget the stick. Does not matter.” The Russian gives a smile. “Was a good hit, though. Very clean. 10/10.”

A door to their left opens, and Shane hurries through, out of breath. “There you are. I've been looking all over for you.” He places his hands on them – one on each of their backs, comfortingly, casually. “I got caught up with my coach. He wouldn't shut up.”

Y/N looks down. Shane looks at Ilya questioningly.

“Thinks we’re disappointed,” the blond murmurs.

“Disappointed? Never.” Shane frowns. “Its just one game, N/N. Everyone gets mad sometimes.”

Ilya hums. “Hollander trying to fight Scott Hunter. What a night that was,” he teases, making the Canadian roll his dark eyes.

“That was deserved. He was being an asshole,” he grunts, before kissing Y/N’s temple. “Come on, it's my last night here.”

“Yes, yes, Shane wants cock,” Ilya drawls, following the two out of the arena.

“You’re only mad because you're not getting any,” Shane retorts smoothly.

Ilya grabs him from behind, and Y/N laughs quietly, watching the two squabble.

That night, the two lovers find themselves cuddling on the couch instead of getting hot and heavy, both exhausted from the game. Shane is laid on top of his boyfriend, who’s flicking through TV channels sleepily. Ilya is eyeing the two, fingers twitching slightly. Eventually, he boldly stands up and walks over, shoving Shane over slightly and clambering in to cuddle against Y/N’s side, the two now smothering him.

“Heavy,” Y/N grumbles, but he doesn't move to push either of them off, or question why the Russian had made himself home on his chest whilst interrupting their intimacy.

“Asshole,” Shane murmurs again, cheek pressed against Y/N’s shoulder as he gazes at the blond man, who just grins cheekily. He raises a hand to gently hold Shane’s waist, snuggling them together closer.

It's not long before Y/N drifts off, softly snoring, his arms cocooning them in. Ilya closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the two men, quickly growing addicted to this kind of love.

“You should tell him,” Shane sleepily mumbles, hand moving up to rest on the Russian’s cheek soothingly. Ilya nuzzles against his palm.

“Can’t,” he grunts. “Scare him off.”

Shane sighs softly but doesn't press, thumb tracing his cheekbone slowly. It was clear to anyone that their spark never truly went out, only being ignited once again due to their beloved goaltender. Lines were yet to be crossed, but they wouldn't, not until Y/N knew. Neither of them wanted to break the poor man’s heart. They all fall to slumber, comfy and cosy in their embraces.

The following morning, Y/N’s very upset, knowing he wasn't going to see Shane for three weeks, but there was nothing they could do about it. He was frustrated that it had to be like this, frustrated that he didn't just accept the Montreal Metros deal before the season started. Sure, he had Ilya, but it felt wrong to get comfort from someone else. It felt wrong to rely on someone who had bigger issues than his own wants.

He watches Shane leave in a taxi, fists clenching. He hated how far away they lived, and how they had to hide themselves whether they're together or not. He understood, of course, but… it ached, deep in his chest. He wanted to be able to go on dates with him, to hold hands in public, to be treated like normal if they were to come out, but Shane had explained to him exactly why he was hesitant, and Y/N had proceeded to fall down the rabbit hole of homophobia in sports, scaring himself further and further with each article he read. He was disgusted to realise how much hatred there still was in the world, disgusted at himself for being so ignorant beforehand.

Ilya pulls him in for a small hug, which the goaltender accepts, but his mind is far, far away, imagining a world where hockey wasn't one of the most conservative sports in the world, where he, Shane, and Ilya could be themselves without fear of ridicule, or even violence.

“Lego?” The Russian offers, but Y/N shakes his head, disappearing into his room to sulk. Ilya understands, fuck, he understands more than anyone. Growing up in Russia had taught him a lot of things.

It's around noon when Ilya checks on Y/N, bringing him a bowl of his favorite snacks. Y/N is fiddling with a small model aeroplane, sprawled on his bed. Ilya climbs on beside him, handing him the bowl.

The two eat in silence, Y/N’s grumpiness evident. The blond didn't know how to cheer him up, especially if Lego wasn't working. Eventually, the H/C-haired man murmurs, “Is it wrong to cuddle someone who isn't your boyfriend?”

“Depends,” Ilya whispers, heart jumping in his chest. “You’d have to ask him.”

Y/N glances at his phone, noticing it was fifteen minutes before Shane’s flight left Boston. He gently picks it up and calls him. Answering on the second ring, the Canadian answers lowly, “Hey, N/N.”

“Hello,” Y/N mumbles. He hesitates, not sure how to word the question. “Will you… be mad if I cuddle Ilya?”

Shane lets out a quiet laugh. “No. If it makes you happy, you can do whatever you want with him. I appreciate you asking.”

The E/C eyed man smiles weakly. “I gotta, or I'm a bad boyfriend.”

“Yes,” Shane agrees. “But you're a good one. The best one.” In the background an automated voice calls the boarding of the plane to Montreal. “I gotta go. I'll call you later.” They exchange I Love Yous, before the call cuts off.

Y/N glances at Ilya, who’s smiling as if he’d stuck gold. “So did you get permission like a good pet?”

Y/N glares at him. “Do you want to cuddle or not, asshole?”

Ilya grins wider, hazel eyes full of amusement. “You sound just like him. He’s corrupting you.”

Nevertheless, Ilya drags him in for a tight hug, and the goaltender melts into his embrace, all the tension in his body easing. He didn't want to admit how good the man made him feel; it felt wrong to do so, like he was going behind Shane's back. But, knowing he had his explicit permission, he felt a bit better. Ilya’s lips press to his forehead briefly, hands holding him nice and secure. There was so much he wanted to say, but he knew he couldn't, not without the Canadian here. He would probably give Y/N a heart attack if he did so – he could imagine his poor face, twisted in confusion, horror, guilt, sadness.

Like he could ever love Ilya in the first place. This was all just kindness. This was Y/N being Y/N.

“You showered today, right?” Y/N’s muffled remark makes the Russian laugh quietly, nodding before kissing the top of his head again, unable to help himself.

“Yes, sweetheart, I did,” he rumbles.

“Am I not a pretty boy anymore?” the man yawns.

Ilya nods gently, gazing down at him with the softest of eyes. “You will always be my pretty boy.” He kisses his eyelids, holding back from ruining everything with one fatal, one desperate kiss. He lets out a strained, shaky breath once he feels the man drift off in a midday nap, fighting back the urge to admit that he’d fallen so deeply in love with both Y/N and Shane.

Robert groaned as the familiar plastic chair backing dug into his back first thing in the morning. Before he was able to put on his headset, the smell of coffee filled his nose.

"Good morning, Robert! I’m sure you got my email?” Your voice preceded you by half a second before you appeared in his cubicle. You shuffled into his small cubicle with two cups of coffee in your hands, a big smile on your face. You were the SDN Wellness Manager, responsible for celebrations and boosting employees' morale.

If something was making someone smile, buying new office supplies, organizing company events, approving mental health days, etc., it was always because you fought for it.

You held out a cup, the warmth spreading to his hands as he took the brightly colored mug. In fact, the whole area felt like it was buzzing with a cozy, pleasant energy. You placed your cup next to Robert’s as Beef pawed at your legs.

You picked up the chunky dog, softly stroking the small area between Beef's eyes with your gloved fingers. The dog cozied up to your chest and sighed, his tail wagging wildly. Robert watched you be gentle with Beef and smiled. "Uh, morning (Name). I was just about to check, actually.” You nodded and cleared your throat, suddenly looking very professional and less bubbly.

“Since the Z team has been doing so well lately, I’m obviously responsible for organizing some kind of celebration for them.” Beef tilted his head and started sniffing at your face, nosing at your cheek, making you crack a smile. This was much better news than he expected to hear about the team from someone in Human Resources.

"Let me know what the team would actually like— food, prizes, anything." You touched his shoulder lightly. Even through the glove, it sent a pleasant fizz under his skin. He stumbled over his words as he thanked you again.

“I’ll check in this morning before your shift starts to ask a few questions, if you don’t mind,” you said with a small smile before walking over to your own desk, which was across from his cubicle. You quickly set Beef down, chuckling to the little dog about your attempt at dog napping. The small glass room you sat in was nicely decorated and felt cozy. You didn’t have the harsh lights of the rest of the office.

A soft yellow glow bathed your skin like a halo, and gentle music played on a low volume. You caught his eyes still on you and gave a happy wave before putting on your headset. Robert put on his own headset as he saw everyone come online and greet each other casually.

“The fuck is (Name) doin’ here anyway?” Punch Up was the first to notice the new presence in the call. Your photo appeared — a cute one where you looked practically glowing. “Good morning, Z Team! Your recent numbers have been excellent, and SDN, as well as I, want to celebrate you!” The call buzzed with excitement; even Coupé sounded happy.

“I’m sure you all wouldn’t want the same prizes granted to other teams, so I have a few ideas—.”

“Whoa, what are these prizes other teams get?” Flambae interrupted, offended at the notion.

“I just think you all would find it corny, like a post made about you on our Instagram, or—I’m sure no one wants to be in a raffle to have lunch with me.” You chuckled, but a silence took over the call. It worried Robert; these guys were never this quiet. They always had something to say, some smartass comment or line, but that didn’t happen here.

“Why don’t we do that one, eh? I don’t see why we should get any special treatment, we're like any other team” Flambae said, and most of the team started to agree unanimously over the mic.

“Oh wow! That’s my bad for making an assumption. But I can set up the raffle soon, and we can announce the winner tomorrow when lunch starts. I’ll see you all then—check your email for how to win!” You chirped, and then your photo disappeared.

“What’s going on? You all never agree on anything, but you agree on some cheesy ‘lunch with the principal’ as the big prize?”

“You ever read his file? His power amplifies emotions and feelings. Just being near him for a few minutes feels like nothing bad has ever happened.” Prism explained as she kicked back more comfortably, waiting to be sent on a job. “Plus, the radiation from his power if he's excited," Flambae added, "feels like taking Adderall. And like you’re a little horny."

There were a few mumbles about how they’d had their best days after something excited you, and they were nearby to soak up the energy.

Robert swallowed hard. Prism continued, "Closest anyone got to him was Sonar, and that was with gloves on. If he touches you barehanded? Boom. Instant soaked pants."

“Everyone gets a little sweaty and hot around him; most people want to chase that feeling, but he’s a bit of a prude,” Flambae added as he returned from a job.

Robert finally began to think, yeah, he did get a little sweaty around you. He figured it was because his desk wasn’t right under the AC vent.

“I had no idea,” Robert responded, short and to the point to avoid getting too personal during a work call.

Robert heard Sonar sigh dreamily, “He was petting my head; if those gloves were off, I would’ve ascended to a different plane of existence right now."

Robert found it ironic that someone almost at the head of HR was a walking violation of HR policies. "You already don’t shut the fuck up about it, and the gloves were on."

“You’re just jealous.” Prism and Sonar bickered before Invisagal spoke up.

“But it totally sucks when he uses it to make you open up. A few months ago, he poked at my shoulder and said, ‘Holding things in isn’t healthy.’" Invisagal slightly mocked your voice, “and made me confess to using all the printer paper and not restocking it.” Invisiagal sounded more than upset as she retold the story.

“So wait, does he persuade people into what he wants, or does it depend on how the person already feels?”

Flambae shrugged. "He's basically a walking HR violation, but like... a sexy one."

No one could really answer if they thought about it.

Robert suddenly questioned every moment he had spent sweating near you.

“I’m winning that stupid raffle.” Malevola sounded almost cocky as she walked down the street.

It was simple. One ticket was automatically awarded, but you could also earn more tickets to increase your chances.

- Every 5 points earned on a job was one more ticket.

- Every helpful deed noticed by (Name) or someone in the HR department earned a ticket. The deed would then be evaluated, and more tickets can be earned.

With a three-hour lunch break, everyone had to shift their focus to helping around the office.

Robert watched Punch Up leave the office with you, carrying three large boxes on each shoulder. He vaguely heard you thank Punch Up as the door closed.

Robert sat in the kitchen, slowly chewing a chocolate bar as he watched Malevola walk through a portal she had placed inside your office, holding your hand to guide you through it. You ripped off a ticket and handed it to her with a smile.

Walking back to his desk, Robert noticed Flambae in your office, holding your phone and, Robert assumed, playing music for you to add to your rotation.

Prism was talking with the media team's interns, who were clearly more excited to talk to her than she was to them. These lunch breaks were so long that Robert tended to zone out for about an hour if he wasn’t helping Royd with new mecha suit ideas, and then take Beef out to use the restroom.

And Beef was whining to be taken out. Walking past almost everyone on the Z team, scrambling to help random people in the office, was a double-edged sword. It was great to see them helping, but it was because they’d get a reward.

Eh, everyone has to start somewhere.

Standing under the cherry blossom tree, Robert watched Beef chase a bug around the courtyard. A warm blanket of happiness wrapped around his entire body. You approached, hands tucked into the pockets of your pants, and there was a specific relief in your posture when you saw Robert standing there. "I was hoping it would just be you out here," you admitted, your voice light in the quiet of the space. "I need to get away from the rest of the team for a minute." You laughed and shuffled a little closer to Robert.

“What? Don’t like having nine weirdos in your space all the time?” A smile cracked onto your face, and you nodded.

“It’s nice—the help is really nice—but it makes me a little sad knowing that after today, they won’t bother checking on anyone.”

You looked down and sighed. “Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to deal with complaints during your lunch. Would you like to walk back together?” Your eyes held a hopeful look.

“I mean, sure, pretty sure Beef is ready for a nap anyway.” Robert pulled a small treat from his pocket and led the dog to the large glass doors.

If you had been in your office, the air would’ve felt thick and heavy with the joy you experienced. You knew better than to develop an office crush, but it was hard not to when everyone you worked with seemed so attractive.

The open space allowed the joyful air to flow and spread, not choking anyone.

“That’s nice.” The deep voice of Golem almost made you jump.

There was a big smile on his face as he watered a bed of flowers. And it dawned on you.

“Ah! A ticket for your efforts, Golem.” You pulled a small ticket from your pocket before Golem shook his head.

“Nah, baby, it’s alright, this is for me.” He motioned to the watering can and went back to watering. You hummed. How nice. Mentally noting you still needed to give him a ticket, you caught up with Robert, who held the door open for you.

“What a gentleman you are, Robert,” you laughed and began to walk up the stairs. “What are you trying to butter me up for, tickets as well?” The air around you felt pleasantly warm, like your power was leaking in soft pulses whenever your eyes met his.

“No, just doing what's right.” There was a playful smile on Robert's face as you both continued climbing. Suddenly, your phone buzzed, forcing you to answer the call in the stairwell.

Robert watched Beef trot up to Chase, sniffing the air and sneezing, which earned a coo from Chase.

“Trying to get a leg up on everyone else?” Invisigal suddenly appeared and shoved Robert’s shoulder.

“What are you talking about?” Robert questioned as he reached for his abandoned coffee cup. Bringing the cup to his lips, he waited for Invisigal to finish her accusation. Coupé stopped to glare as she restocked the printer paper.

“Being all buddy-buddy with (Name). You’re part of this competition, too.” Sonar perked up over his desk. “Whoa, Robert is getting alone time with (Name)? I didn’t give those kids financial advice for an hour to not win this competition.” Sonar’s words dripped with offense, as Punch Up also expressed his dismay. Robert moved the cup away from his lips in shock.

“Trying to suck all his energy for yourself?” Flamebae got up from his desk, stalking toward Robert. “Too bad, I’m gonna suck him first.” Robert stifled his laugh. What the hell was even going on? Why was everyone so... intense about this?

“Look, I’m not trying to suck him off. He asked me to walk with him, and I did.”

Finally, he took a sip from the cup, which tasted so good.

Really good.

Oh, fuck, it was so fucking good.

Like warm honey pouring down his chest-relaxing, euphoric, intensely comforting. He barely heard the arguing.

Robert didn’t even care about responding anymore. Defending himself from accusations of wanting to suck you off was the least of his concerns when something so amazing was in his hands.

A warmth spread down his back, hips, and swirled in his midsection as the coffee flavor lingered heavily in his mouth. Before he could take a second sip, he heard you.

“Oh! I totally left my coffee on your desk, sorry, Robert.” You took the cup from his hand and drank from it in the same spot. “Kinda cold, but what can you expect?” Walking to your office, Robert almost wanted to yell—to leap over and catch the coffee as it fell into the trash.

Instead, he could only watch helplessly as it fell with a thud. Leaving your office, you shut the door and, jokingly, hooked arms with Robert. “Onward to the cafeteria! I’m starving.”

The rest of the team glared daggers into Robert's back as the dull pain in his body that he always seemed to feel was gone now.

“He has no idea how lucky he is.” Sonar’s eyes narrowed through the glass walls of your office. "Tell me about it. Robert gets to sit and breathe in all that joy." Flamebae scoffed and drank from his water bottle.

“What? Oh, right, Robert too.” Sonar stared at Beef, who was lounging in your lap, his tongue hanging out as you scratched behind his ears. You had just finished your meal, gloves off, enjoying time with the dog. No one could hear your conversation, even though the door was open.

Just that you laughed at something Robert said, body tilting toward him.

Waterboy, who was on the Z team at this point, was busy cleaning the glass walls of your office. You noticed and placed Beef in Robert's lap. “Waterboy, you don't need to clean these anymore," you said.

Without thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder.

Your bare hand.

The team watched as Waterboy's back shot straight up; the flush on his already pink cheeks deepened. Both of you began to panic and apologized to each other. The emotional blast wasn’t one either of you were ready for. It was too much, far too much for the middle of the workday.

"Oh my god-I'm so sorry-"

"No, I'M sorry-"

Both of you stumbled over apologies until he practically sprinted out of the room. You fled into your office to yank your gloves back on; the air around you felt warm and clammy, filled with little shocks under the heavy fog of embarrassment.

When lunch ended and everyone was back to work, Robert wanted to yell in frustration. Jobs were getting done and completed, yes, but everyone was fighting over jobs.

"Come on, Bert, you've only sent me once this shift! Not fair, man!" Sonar groaned into the headset mic as Flambae and Prism were sent out on another mission together. "You've sent Waterboy three times already! I'm ready to get out there, man."

"Well, tell the people of LA to have fewer small fires and more jobs needing a bat monster if you want to be used more." Robert sighed and queued Coupé and Punch up to fight in another underground fight club. Watching their trackers go across the screen and back was easy but monotonous.

“Did you all know (Hero Name)'s ex-spouse hasn’t moved in at all since they divorced all those years ago?” Coupes' voice was steady, but there was an underlying excitement at the discovery of the Information.

“How’d you figure that out?” Malevola questioned, a little weirded out.

“Public Facebook account.” Was all coupe said as an answer.

“Maybe they just don’t post about her sex life,” Prism commented, but Coupe was quick with an answer.

“I thought so too, but looking through their posts, they lament that sex hasn’t felt good at least twice every year since they divorced. Easy to connect the dots on that one."

"And what are we supposed to do with that Coop?" Punch Up probed, trying to get more information, to see why this was even mentioned at all. "I just wanted to share my findings… Also, (Name)'s mom has baby pictures of him on her Facebook, and they are adorable." Her voice trailed, and everyone stayed silent.

“Can confirm. He wasn’t one of those babies that look like a potato.” Sonar spoke up, then quickly shut up. “Yeah. Cute baby.”

"It feels kinda scummy that you guys just want to be around him for his power." Robert finally spoke the words he's been holding in this entire time.

"It's like hanging out with someone who lights up a room, the infectious energy." Flambae started before getting cut off, "If he didn't have this power, he would still make rooms better." Malevola finished, and the entire team hummed in agreement.

Long shift aside, things went well, besides a few people complaining some more about how they were being "blue balled" by not getting jobs. Robert was ready to get home and pass out on his couch.

The sun was setting low, and the office was bathed in orange and yellow hues as Robert packed his backpack. You were still in your office, typing away with a large glass jar next to you.

The jar was filled with tickets of all different colors mixed.

You looked up and smiled, waving and yelling, "Have a good day!" to Robert.

____________

Mornings in the office were always calm, something you'd never take for granted. Setting down your things, you yawned and booted up your computer.

"Big day today." It was Robert, leaning in your doorway with two cups of coffee in his hands. The air around him felt calm, his tone playful. Beef walked into your office between Robert's feet and started sniffing around. "Yes, it is," taking the cup, you took a sip, "I didn't know you got here early too." Robert smiled and explained that he usually came early to use the gym.

"Ah, I always mean to take advantage of the gym, but I never find the time." You lifted the lid on the glass jar and mixed the tickets inside. “Do you think it’s overkill that I brought a nice outfit for lunch?” Robert looked at the plastic-protected jacket you hung on the coat rack of your office.

“Dry-cleaned suit, huh? Who are you trying to impress?” Robert walked deeper into your office, reaching out to look at the suit closer.

“What?! No! Nothing like that! I mean—“ you coughed and closed the jar. “That’s not appropriate for the workplace!” A heat sprang in your face that you hoped wasn’t radiating and making the entire room warm.

“Uh-huh, well, whoever wins is real lucky.” Robert stepped closer to you now, a glint in his eyes. He absolutely was feeling your flushed embarrassment.

“It’ll be like a blink of an eye when lunch finally comes around.”

“Come on! Just tell us what it felt like, Waterboy.” Invisagal pestered Waterboy, who only stuttered out a confused “huh? Wh—what?”

“What did it feel like! When he touched you.” Invisagal enunciated, “We all saw you get red and run off, so don’t act like nothing happened!”

Waterboy finally relented, “Well, it um, felt like flying— floating! In a hot tub and getting embrac— hugged. At the the same time.” He sighed, sounding embarrassed to admit how your hand on him felt in such a short amount of time.

“What does that even mean..?”

It wasn’t precisely a blink, but as your hand remixed the tickets, with the entire Z team staring at you, it felt like the past few hours escaped you.

The tickets lightly scratched your hand as you dug to the very bottom of the jar. You didn’t mean to stay for so long, but you couldn’t stop talking!

“I want to thank you all again for working so hard. Since this program formed, I was just waiting for the day I could actually celebrate you all!” Even though your energy was infectious, the rising anticipation was becoming unbearable.

“Yes, yes, you’re very sweet and thoughtful, the room tastes like sugar. Come on now!” Flambae clicked his tongue and used his hands to urge you on.

“The winner is…!”

Coming soon: [Sonar] [Robert] [Waterboy] [Flambae]

but you were also stupid.

really

really

really stupid.

you didn't really grasp the fact you were popular, not at all. "oh, everyone at the school is just so nice!" you would always tell him that, and all he could do was nod his head while telling you. "mhm. real nice people babe."

he wasn't too surprised to learn you were a virgin at first. hell you cried when all he had ever done was tit fuck you. how could he ever resist it though? each shirt you wore was just so tight and fitting, your nipples soft yet pebbling through every single tee. and he could recall the night on how sensitive they were.

"oh— oh god- wa-wait i can't!" your pretty eyes overflowed with even prettier big tears, your lips wobbling as your hands trembled as they held your pecs together for him to have a tight space to fuck. you were gasping and hiccuping, face flushed hotly and your nipples fully erect buds had sweat beading over them.

his hips bucked and thrusted upwards, thick and long cock fucking your tits and occasionally purposely slipping out for his thick tip to graze over your sensitive nipples and glazing his leaking pre over them. fuck, he was gonna lose his mind. this is what he looked forward to every day after school. not just fucking your obscenely large "pectorals" as you liked to claim, no there were so many perverted things he could do to you and you would just bat your eyelashes and tilt your head like nothing.

like the time he stole the girls cheerleading outfit and bought you a pair of panties that you would wear for a time but then he would keep them afterwards.

"this is really tight.." you mumbled, looking down at the way it stretched around your figure and very clearly showed the fitted pink lace that portrayed the outline of your hard dick. good. now he knew you were just as turned on as he was. "oh c'mon babe, it's a perfect fit." he snickered as he pulled you in closer between his legs. he didn't notice the salivation in his mouth, it was just the way you hung onto him so pathetically.

he told you to ride him and you did as he was told. almost too damn well, he almost started crying too. "s-shit—" he winced, fingernails digging into your waist flesh with how hard and how fast you had been going. you were sucking him in only to pop him back out and plop back to his bony hips just as hard. you couldn't even answer him, couldn't hear his dirty words mixed with him telling you to slow down. you had been the entire definition of cock drunk, back bowed to an arch and your neck craned slightly as your head had been thrown back.

a high scream like moan tore from your throat, another load of cum squirting from your tip— landing onto his shirt and a little splattering onto his face. your skirt fluttered and flipped, panties still on but slightly tore and moved to the side so you could ride him proper. your words were incoherent if you were even trying to speak them, all he could ever get was 'yes' , 'so close' ''m gonna—'

at times he'd be so attached he would bring those exact panties to school, holding them to his face with his cock in his hand and pumping it like no one would notice his noises and squelches coming from the stall. he would remember all of it, the way your body glistened with sweat all from his doing, the constant moans never stopping, the bulge visible where your abs tightened at your stomach, your dick twitching and your balls clenching signalling another load of cum.

"fuck you're so.." he'd whimper to himself, wet hot liquid all over his fingers.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

The city was loud even when it was quiet. Gotham never really slept; it just shifted gears. At nine PM, it buzzed with office drones hurrying home, taxis honking, sidewalks packed. By midnight, it was the drunks and the desperate. By two, it was predators and ghosts.

You hadn’t meant to end up in this slot of time, the dead zone where bad things happened to people like you. But it was like the week had been building to this all along, laying one miserable brick after another until you were boxed in with no way out. Work had been hell. Your boss had called you out in front of everyone for missing a deadline that wasn’t even yours. A coworker you thought was a friend had thrown you under the bus to cover his own ass. Your inbox looked like a graveyard of half-finished tasks. Every hour in that office felt like you were being strangled by the humming of the fluorescent lights overhead.

And then there was the breakup. God, the breakup. A text message. A fucking text message, after two years together. I think we need to take a break. I don’t see a future for us. No call, no face to face. Just a string of words on your screen while you sat on your couch, staring at the phone like maybe you were hallucinating.

You’d told yourself you were fine. You’d told your friends you were fine. You’d told your reflection in the mirror, your ceiling when you couldn’t sleep, your coffee cup every morning, you were fine. But tonight, sitting at that bar, you’d realized you weren’t fine at all.

It started simple. Two beers, you promised. Two beers, maybe a shot if you were really dramatic. But the second the first one slid down your throat, the cold fizz bubbling in your chest, you knew that promise was bullshit. Two turned into three. Three into four. Someone next to you ordered shots, and you joined in. Then whiskey, then rum. Your body was warm, your tongue was loose, and strangers’ laughter felt like a blanket you hadn’t had in weeks.

The bar smelled like sweat, fried food, cheap cologne. The music was too loud, a bass line that rattled your bones. For a little while, it drowned out the sound of your ex’s voice in your head, the sting of your boss’s condescension, the whisper that you were fucking up your own life. But hours later, when the bartender gently suggested water, when your phone battery hit zero, when you swayed too hard on the barstool, reality started creeping back in. The laughter wasn’t fun anymore. The blanket of noise turned itchy. So you left.

The cold slapped you the second you stumbled outside. Gotham’s night air was sharp, metallic, like licking pennies. You zipped up your jacket, hugged yourself, and started walking with no real plan. Your apartment was “somewhere that way,” you told yourself, pointing vaguely down the street. East of 7th. Or maybe west. Fuck it. You muttered under your breath as you went.

“It’s fine. You’ll find it. Just keep moving. Don’t puke. Don’t look pathetic.”

The sidewalk was cracked and uneven. Streetlights buzzed overhead, some flickering, some dead. You passed shuttered shops, graffiti tagged walls, a homeless guy muttering to himself on the corner. You wanted to give him money, but when you reached into your pocket, all you felt was a few crumpled singles. Not enough. Never enough. Your chest tightened. You thought about your boss’s glare, about your ex’s name lighting up your phone screen. You thought about the toothbrush still in your bathroom, the sweater that smelled like him still shoved in the back of your closet. The emptiness of your apartment clawed at you.

“Pathetic,” you whispered to yourself. “You’re fucking pathetic.”

That was when you heard it. A car engine. Low, steady, crawling too close to the curb. Your stomach dropped. The headlights washed over you, throwing your shadow long and sharp against the sidewalk. The car crept forward like it had nowhere better to be. Like it was watching you. Your heart picked up, pounding in your ears.

“Of course,” you muttered, voice shaking. “Because tonight wasn’t already shit enough.” You spun around, glaring at the car as it inched closer. “If you’re gonna mug me, just do it!” you shouted, throwing your arms out. “Take my twenty bucks, take my dead phone, I don’t care! Get it over with!”

The car stopped. The driver’s side window rolled down. And instead of some sleazy guy with a gun, you saw him. For a second, your brain refused to connect the dots. The face was familiar but out of place, like spotting a celebrity in a grocery store. Dark hair, sharp jaw, eyes that caught the streetlight just right.

“…Jesus,” the driver said, leaning out. “Is that you?”

You blinked hard, swaying a little.

“...Dick?”

He nodded, eyebrows knitting.

“Yeah. It’s me. You look—uh—rough.”

You barked out a laugh, loud and bitter.

“Wow, thanks. Exactly the pep talk I needed.”

He sighed, muttered something under his breath, then raised his voice.

"Get in the car. You shouldn’t be out here like this.”

Your spine went rigid. You hated the way it sounded, like an order.

“I’m fine,” you snapped. “I can walk. Walking’s my specialty.” You gestured down the street and nearly lost your balance. “See? Look at me. Graceful as hell.”

“Graceful?” he repeated, stepping out of the car. “You look like a baby giraffe on roller skates.”

You squinted at him. He was in casual clothes, dark jeans, fitted black jacket, messy hair that somehow still looked perfect. He didn’t look like someone who belonged in Gotham at 3 AM. He looked like someone who belonged in a glossy magazine.

“You can’t just—” you started, then hiccupped mid sentence. “—tell me what to do. I don’t even know you.”

His expression softened. He held his hands up in a calm-down gesture, like he was trying not to spook you. “I’m not trying to boss you around. But it’s dangerous out here. You know that.”

“Why do you care?” The words burst out of you, raw and too loud. Your throat ached. “You don’t even know me. I’m just some drunk idiot whose life is a fucking joke.”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Something flickered in his eyes, sympathy, maybe recognition. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady.

“Because I don't want you to get killed, come on, man.”

The sincerity knocked the wind out of you. You looked away fast, blinking hard, because there was no way in hell you were crying in front of Dick Grayson. He stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“Let me give you a ride. That’s it. No lecture. No strings. Just… let me get you home safe.”

Your pride screamed at you to say no. To stumble off into the dark and prove you could handle it. But your body was tired, your head was spinning, and the thought of being alone any longer made your chest hurt.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if you kill me, I’ll haunt you. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that my bad luck is so great that I have two lives.”

His mouth curved into a crooked smile, soft and unguarded.

“Deal.”

He guided you toward the car, one hand steady on your elbow when you tripped over the curb. Normally, you’d shake him off, insist you didn’t need the help. But tonight, it felt like the only thing keeping you from unraveling completely.

He kept talking, asking if you were okay, if you needed a ride, but the words started floating away, dissolving into the night air before they could land. You caught fragments “drunk… dangerous… not safe…” but mostly it was just the sight of him filling your brain. His hair falling over his forehead, the way his jaw flexed as he spoke, the tight black shirt clinging to his shoulders. God, he looked good enough to ruin you. You let out a laugh, unsteady, and leaned closer toward the open window.

“Diiick,” you slurred, dragging his name out like it was something sweet on your tongue.

His voice stopped. Silence pooled between you, thick.

“Y’know what?” you said, words spilling faster now, reckless. “I’ve been thinking about you. Like, a lot. More than I should. You—fuck— you don’t even get it. You’re like—Jesus, you’re perfect. Do you know how hot you are? Like, stupid hot. Like, makes-me-wanna-do-terrible-things hot.”

He shifted in the driver’s seat, uncomfortable. His hands gripped the steering wheel like he was clinging to it. “Y/N, you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying—”

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m saying,” you cut in, giggling. The alcohol made you bold, made your tongue sharp. “I think about you when I—fuck, when I jerk off. All the time. Those arms, that smile… shit, the way you look at people like you actually care. It drives me insane. You’d make anyone fall in love, Dick. Even me. Especially me.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t snap at you. Didn’t yell. Just leaned back slightly when you reached for him through the window, aiming a sloppy kiss at his cheek. He caught your wrist gently but firmly, pushing you back.

“Stop,” he said, voice low, strained. “You’re not thinking straight.”

You pouted, leaning closer again, stubborn. “Don’t act like you don’t know I’d kiss the life outta you if you let me. Don’t act like you don’t wanna kiss me back.”

“Y/N—”

But you kept talking, leaning across the seat when he finally unlocked the door and let you stumble in. Your words tumbled out, messy, filthy confessions that you’d never dare say sober. You told him how badly you wanted to taste him, how you imagined what his skin smelled like after training, how you’d let him fuck you against the wall if he just said the word.

He kept his eyes on the road, shoulders tense, ears burning red. He didn’t shove you away but he didn’t entertain you either. Just muttered under his breath,

“This isn’t happening. Not like this.”

Still, you couldn’t stop.

“Bet you’re big,” you whispered, leaning dangerously close to his ear. “Bet you’d split me open so good. Wanna feel you, Dick. Wanna keep you. God, I’d be so good for you—"

"Stop.”

But you didn’t. You brushed your hand along his thigh, grinning drunkenly when he flinched. That little reaction made your chest light up like fireworks. You leaned over, lips inches from his jaw. And that’s when it happened. The car swerved. Dick’s reflexes were fast, insanely fast, but your sudden lunge made him jerk the wheel hard to the side. Tires screeched against asphalt, the car veering dangerously close to the sidewalk before he yanked it straight again. Your body slammed against the door with a loud thud, your stomach lurching.

“Jesus Christ!” he shouted, voice sharp, angry now. His hands gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles whitened. “Do you wanna die? You could’ve killed us both!”

You froze, the alcohol haze cracking for just a second under the weight of his anger. Your throat tightened.

“...Sorry,” you mumbled, shrinking back into the seat.

He exhaled hard, dragging a hand over his face, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t catch. For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the engine and your own uneven breathing.

The air in the car turned cold, tense. He didn’t look at you again. Didn’t answer when you tried a weak “Dick…” Just kept his eyes locked on the road, lips pressed thin, jaw set like stone. The silence was suffocating. You stared at your hands, fighting the drunken urge to cry, guilt gnawing at you even through the booze. And he stayed silent all the way back. Nothing you said made any sense. You didn't even really know Dick that well. It was mostly just nonsense spewed out by alcohol. Or things you would probably do now that you've had a chance to see it up close.

The apartment was warm the moment Dick pushed the door open. He guided you in with his hand firm on your arm, like he was half-afraid you’d topple face-first onto the hardwood. You stumbled inside, dizzy from alcohol and the adrenaline of nearly crashing earlier. Your head was buzzing, the city outside muffled like cotton stuffed in your ears.

“Sit,” Dick muttered, steering you toward the bed. His voice was clipped, controlled. That Nightwing control. You laughed, falling onto the mattress with zero grace, bouncing once before lying back, staring at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“You’re bossy when you wanna be,” you slurred, dragging a hand over your face. “Kinda hot, actually…”

Dick ignored that. He crouched to untie your shoes, fingers working with practiced care, like he’d done this for drunk idiots more times than he could count.

“You need to sleep it off,” he said evenly. “Water, rest, that’s it.”

“Water, rest…” you repeated, mocking the seriousness in his tone, before propping yourself up on your elbows and staring. God, he looked unfair, black t-shirt clinging to him, hair damp with sweat from patrol, jaw sharp enough to cut. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was. “Fuck, you’re so… pretty, Dick.”

That made him pause. His hands froze on your shoelaces. He glanced up, brows knit, and for a second you thought he’d scold you again. But he didn’t. He just sighed, shook his head, and tugged your shoe off. You leaned forward suddenly, catching his shoulder.

“I mean it. I’ve thought about you. A lot. Like… dirty shit, man. Stuff I probably shouldn’t say right now but…” you giggled, your hand sliding from his shoulder toward his chest. “I want you. So bad.”

“Y/N,” Dick warned, pushing your hand back gently. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m horny,” you corrected with a crooked grin, moving closer. Your lips brushed the edge of his jaw before he caught your wrist and stopped you. You could feel his pulse in that grip, quick, steady but… there. You weren’t imagining the heat in him.

“Stop.” His voice was firmer this time, but not cruel. Never cruel. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” you shot back, breath warm against his cheek. You tilted closer, catching the corner of his mouth in a kiss before he jerked back.

“Shit—” Dick stood abruptly, running a hand through his hair. His chest rose and fell harder now, like he was forcing air into his lungs. “You can’t—god, you don’t even get how much you’re asking for right now.”

You sat up on the bed, legs spread carelessly, shirt rumores, grinning like an idiot who thought he’d won.

“Then take it. C’mon, Boy Wonder. I’m begging.”

Your words were filthy, dripping with every half-baked fantasy you’d buried about him. You listed them one by one, slurred confessions spilling out: how you’d imagined him pinning you down, making you beg, fucking you until you couldn’t walk straight. Each word made his jaw clench tighter.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath, pacing the room like a caged animal. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

But you did. At least you thought you did. You got up, stumbling a little, and pressed yourself against him from behind, arms circling his waist.

“I wanna feel you. Please, Dick. I don’t care if I regret it in the morning. Just—fuck me tonight.”

His body went rigid, every muscle tense. For a moment, he didn’t move. You felt his breath hitch, his hands flex at his sides. Then, he spun, grabbed your shoulders, and kissed you. It was quick, rough, nothing like the fantasies you’d imagined, it was Dick giving in for half a heartbeat. His mouth was hot, his tongue sliding against yours before he realized what the hell he was doing. Then he shoved you back, breaking the kiss with a sharp breath.

“No,” he snapped, more at himself than at you. He pushed you toward the bed again, not gentle this time. His hands trembled when he let go. “You’re drunk. You don’t get to choose this right now. And I’m not—” he cut himself off, shaking his head like he was trying to clear it. You laughed bitterly, sitting back down on the bed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Wow. You do want me, though."

“I didn’t say that,” Dick bit out, backing away.

“You didn’t have to,” you whispered, leaning back on your hands, legs open, daring him to look. “Your kiss told me everything.”

Dick cursed under his breath and grabbed a spare blanket, tossing it over you like he was trying to smother the temptation.

“Sleep. I’ll be on the couch. We’re not doing this.”

But even as he turned away, you caught the way his hands balled into fists, the way his shoulders were tight, his breathing still heavy. He wanted you, he just hated himself for it.

Some time later, the bed felt soft under you, too soft, almost like the room itself was swaying. You were halfway between sleep and drunken haze, your body heavy, breath slowing. Just when you were about to sink fully into the dark, a strange warmth pressed against your lips. At first, you thought you were dreaming, some blurry fantasy where Dick leaned down to kiss you, tasting of mint and restraint. But then the pressure deepened, real and insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he was finally giving in to something he’d been holding back for too long. You let out a drowsy little laugh, half-giggling against him.

“Hah… Dick? That you?” Your voice was thick, slurred, but playful. His name rolled off your tongue like you’d been whispering it in your head every night before falling asleep. You didn’t even care if this was real. It felt too good.

His lips dragged down to your jaw, then to your neck. Each kiss was hotter, wetter, more desperate than the last. He lingered at your pulse, sucking faintly, breathing heavy like he hated himself for every second he spent on your skin.

“Mmhm—tickles,” you mumbled, wriggling a little, shoulders shaking with another giggle. You had no idea why he was doing this now, why he couldn’t keep his hands off you all of a sudden, but you weren’t about to complain. Every brush of his mouth made your skin prickle, your chest tighten.

Then his hands were sliding lower. Fingers tugging at your shirt, pushing it up until your chest was bare to the cool air of the apartment. You blinked, dazed, watching his head dip as he latched onto your nipple, sucking hard. The sensation shot through you like a bolt, ripping a surprised gasp from your throat.

“Ngh—shit, Dick…” Your hips twitched, half-conscious but very awake in the way your body responded to him.

He groaned low, like he’d been starved, and his hand found its way beneath the waistband of your pants. Rough fingers wrapped around your cock and began stroking, slow at first, then harder, each pull sending your brain spinning further out of control. Your back arched instinctively, a moan spilling out before you could hold it back. You were drunk, fucked out, dizzy, and yet every nerve in your body was lit up with the way he touched you. Your head rolled back against the pillow, lips parted, eyes barely open.

“Knew you wanted me… always knew…” The words came out lazy and cocky, the truth of your thoughts dripping out unfiltered.

Dick froze. His mouth still pressed against your chest, his hand still on your cock. He stayed there for a heartbeat too long, breathing ragged, like he was fighting with himself in silence. Then he pulled back sharply, breaking the kiss, releasing your body as if it had burned him. You blinked at him, confused.

“Wh… what’s wrong?” Your voice was small, genuinely puzzled. You reached out clumsily, fingertips brushing his wrist. “It’s okay… it’s just me…”

But he shook his head, jaw tight.

“No. No, it’s not okay.” His voice was rough, almost angry, though the anger wasn’t at you, but at himself. “You’re drunk, you don’t even know what you’re saying.”

You frowned, trying to sit up, but your body didn’t want to listen.

“Dick, c’mon… I want this, I want you.” You gave a sleepy little grin, trying to lighten the tension, but it only made him look more torn apart inside.

“Stop,” he said harshly, pushing your hand away when you tried to reach for him again. “Just—stop.” His tone cracked with something deeper than frustration. Guilt. Self-loathing.

For a second you thought he was going to yell again, but instead he just stood there, staring at you like he was punishing himself for even being in the room. Then he turned and walked away, movements stiff, shoulders tight, fists clenched at his sides. He didn’t look back. You stared after him, still half-hard, still tingling from his touches, but now completely baffled. Your head spun as you tried to make sense of it, why he’d kiss you, why he’d touch you, only to leave you like that. It made no sense, not in your hazy state.

The grass was warm where your body pressed into it, soft yet prickling at bare patches of skin, blades bending and crackling faintly beneath you, clinging like needy fingers to the back of your wrinkled shirt. Some leaves had hitched a ride in the fabric, caught in the creases, a few stems scratching your ribs faintly, though you didn’t move them. Instead you lay there, staring up at the sky how the orange light spilled across the heavens like paint poured from a bucket. It was beautiful in a way that almost made you angry, because this wasn’t the kind of evening to be wasted, not when you knew what lingered nearby.

Still, you shifted faintly, adjusting just enough to angle your hip and fingers so you could feel the rough little length of wood tucked into your waistband. A stake laughably small, carved in quiet hours, its whittled end sharp but fragile. You let your hand rest close to it, comforted by its weight and the grain of it against your shirt.

You shouldn’t have been thinking of him, but you always did when the sky changed color. The thought slithered in, stubborn and inevitable, Those red eyes that glowed, pale skin stretched taut over sharp cheekbones, the cruel line of his mouth that seemed perpetually on the edge of a smirk, hair black and messy. He was dangerous and yet your cock twitched unbidden in your trousers every damn time you thought about him, blood surging, traitorous.

The crunch you heard made your lashes flutter, the faint rhythm of footsteps against leaves breaking the drowsy edge of your thoughts. The last strands of daylight pressed against your face as you opened your eyes, squinting. The sun wasn’t harsh anymore, only a fading warmth across your brow, but you turned quickly toward the sound, pulse jumping.

He couldn’t be out here yet, not while the sun still lingered as your stubborn shield. But some reckless, hidden part of you still wondered, breath catching at the thought of what it might mean if he came regardless, defiant against the light.

Not him.

Instead it was your colleague, Caleb Pryor, moving through the clearing, one hand raised to shield his gaze though the damn hat he wore was already useless against the angle of the setting sun. He lowered his hand as he saw you, lips quaking into the kind of tired smile that said he wasn’t here to bother you long.

“Didn’t mean t’ wake ya,” he said, voice low, apologetic.

Immediately you dismissed him with a flick of your hand, snorting lightly. “Weren’t sleepin’.”

A stupid mistake that in another context could’ve been the last words you’d ever breathe. Falling asleep outside and unguarded, your life could have been forfeit, body used, drained and desecrated by the very thing that haunted your nights.

The thought of it shivered through you in a hot, sick way, pulse tugging down toward your cock again, as if imagining his fangs sinking into your throat wasn’t just terror but temptation.

Caleb shifted, boots scuffing against the dirt, voice carrying a note of weariness. “Gonna head out. Long day. Need rest.”

“Can’t say I don’t agree with ya there. I’ll get movin’ soon enough, just wanna sit a while longer, let the dirt hold me, enjoy the breeze.” All said while stretching your arms, joints popping as you rubbed at sore muscles, giving him a lazy nod.

He smiled faintly at that, until his gaze snagged lower, on the edge of wood protruding from your waistband.

“What’s that? Gonna stab me with a toothpick?” His voice carried humor, but the question under it was sharp.

Your chest tightened as you fumbled for an excuse. “You seen the critters out here? Nothin’ wrong with carryin’ something. Keep wolves off. Hell, even raccoons’ll fuck ya up if you ain’t careful.” You pointed off toward the treeline, letting your tone stay casual.

He hummed low in his throat, an acknowledging sound, but the look on his face deepened, like he was weighing your words, turning them over in his head. The line between his brows tightened, mouth softening as if about to speak and just for a flicker you swore there was something else there, almost tender and longing. He cleared his throat. “Y’know, we oughta go hunt sometime. Got a couple rifles sittin’ at mine gatherin’ dust. Could teach ya a thin’ or two.”

Your brow arched at that, suspicion edging in. “What makes ya think I don’t know how t’ handle a gun?”

His grin tugged sideways, teasing. “Just askin’. You look like the type who’d shoot your own foot.”

Scoffing while rolling your eyes, standing and brushing dirt, leaves from your trousers while swatting at your shirt. “My papa taught me when I was still an ornery teenager. Figured I’d need it, way I was actin’.”

He burst out laughing, head tipping back, shoulders shaking. You shoved him in the shoulder, friendly but sharp. He made a fake wince, rubbing at the spot dramatically and you both ended up chuckling, warmth between you natural as breath.

Walking with him toward the car, your steps easy, you asked, “See ya tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “Mornin’s booked. Somethin’ important.”

“Lucky bastard,” you muttered under your breath, though loud enough for him to catch it. He chuckled and you groaned at the thought of your coming night shift.

“You want, I’ll swing by, give ya a lift.”

“Don’t come here at night.” The words scraped wrong in your ears and you snapped too sharp.

His head jerked slightly at your tone, but you hurried on, softening it, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I mean—when night hits I’m either gone to work or asleep. Ain’t safe here anyway, animals prowlin’.” A truth cut in half, but still enough to cover.

He nodded, though the glance he threw at you said he wasn’t entirely convinced, something skeptical in his eyes. Still, he let it pass, climbing into his car. “We’ll go hunt soon, then.”

Giving him a thumbs-up, you then watched his taillights glow red as he drove off into the darkening road.

Your hand fell to your hip and froze.

The stake was gone.

A curse hissed through your teeth as you spun, jogging back into the trees, eyes darting across the ground until you spotted it under a pile of brittle leaves, snatching it up, turning your gaze skyward.

The orange was gone, rotted into near-black.

Another crunch was detected by your ears, not soft this time, not slow but rapid. The sound clawed straight into your chest, terror shooting down your spine.

Leaves split and snapped under his boots, closer and faster.

Your breath caught in your throat as you bolted, the world immediately reduced to blur and pounding rhythm, lungs dragged open as you tore between the trees. The ground was uneven and cluttered with thick roots, but adrenaline made your steps light and swift. You leapt over the snarling teeth of wood that rose from the earth, twisting your shoulders to slip between close-packed trunks, every nerve screaming to move faster.

Behind something was coming fast, each crash of weight through brush gaining, the cadence too deliberate to be an animal.

Your chest burned, the rasp of breath shredding your throat and you dove behind a tree, pressing your back flat, body trembling, clutching at the stake at your side as you tried to pull air into your lungs without making noise. You craned your neck, eyes darting across the tangle of forest until you caught the faint outline of the direction to your house.

The only hope you had.

The sound of boots biting into soil, approaching with unhurried certainty.

“Where are ye, darlin’?” The voice was thick, Irish vowels stretched, consonants rough. It didn’t tremble or tire but dripped with longing and hunger.

His steps drew closer, every crunch of earth seemed to hammer inside your ribcage, and though he spoke low, intimate, you knew with sickening clarity that he was already aware of your position.

You sprinted again, body launching forward with desperate force and narrowly missing the claws that slashed past where your chest had been, raking bark, gouging the tree in a vicious swipe, narrowly missing being torn open.

Branches clawed at your clothes as you ran, roots tried to trip your feet. You could hear him, not just following but matching you, sound doubling in your ears.

And then a hand slammed into your right side, claws digging at your waist with brutal force as he floated in the air and descended with predatory precision before slamming you down.

A sound was torn from your throat as your back cracked against the dirt, breath crushed from your lungs.

Before you could gather yourself, knees thudded to the ground, caging you in. His clawed hand snatched your right arm and pinned it down with inhuman strength. You twisted, tried to rise and he slammed you flat again, all struggle driven from your body with the impact and making it impossible for you to reach the stake you had.

He hovered above, pale face stretched tight, fangs long and gleaming, lips wet with saliva that strung in thin lines as he leaned closer. His eyes blazed red, lust and hunger blazing equally in their fire. Drool dropped onto your cheek, hot and intimate, making your skin crawl. His other hand clamped around your jaw, tilting your head violently, baring your neck to his hungry gaze.

Each breath was ragged, exhale vibrating against your skin as his mouth inched lower, closer, ready to pierce.

Instinct drove you when your left hand shot down, shoving into your trouser pocket, fingers trembling as they scooped out the crushed garlic you’d stashed and flung it up into his face.

The effect was instant.

The skin erupted in reaction, the left side blistering, smoking where the powder touched, pale flesh turned red, peeling in bubbling cracks as if acid had been poured onto him. The scent of scorched meat filled the air, the eye on that side squeezed shut, lid searing at the edges.

“Shite!” His voice twisted sharp, spat in Irish through his teeth, that snarl carried pain and guttural fury.

His grip faltered, body lifting just enough as his hand clawed against his own face, trying to scrape away the burning.

That moment was your chance, with every scrap of strength you had, you drove your boot forward, the heel connecting square to his chest. The impact jarred up your leg and he rocked back, air hissing through his teeth as he lost leverage.

You rolled, scrambled upright, stumbling as your legs tripped over themselves but you forced them to keep moving. The forest blurred again, fear shoving you faster, though your knees nearly buckled with the strain.

Branches whipped your face, tore at your arms, but you didn’t stop until you saw your house, the door left wide, salvation yawning open.

Bursting inside and collapsing as your body gave out, chest heaving so violently it hurt. You twisted on the floor, dragging yourself to face the entrance and froze.

He was already there.

Standing in your doorway, framed by the night, Remmick filled the threshold. He wore the same stained white tank he had in the first time you’d seen him, the cotton clinging damp and browned with dirt, sweat and maybe blood. The fabric stretched across the hard lines of his chest and shoulders. His arms hung loose at his sides but his fingers flexed, claws glinting faintly in the dim light.

His chest rose and fell slow, steady, like the run meant nothing to him. The tank’s neckline was torn, exposing the curve of his collarbone slick with sweat. His skin gleamed in patches from exertion, yet his expression was calm, collected in that feral way, red eyes burning hotter than ever, lips parted, fangs bared with saliva still trailing in thin threads, glistening as it dripped down his chin.

He tilted his head, the movement slow and predatory as he smiled without warmth, the way wolves act when they want you to think they’re curious, not about to lunge.

“You did that on purpose.” Irish lilt curling around each syllable. That side of his face you burned was already halfway healed. His voice was raw, weighted with frustration, darkened by the sting of being denied and the garlic scarring still shadowing his cheek. He had been so close to sinking those teeth into you and get your blood on his tongue, but you had slipped away.

Worse, you had hurt him. He hated it and yet, every second of it carved him deeper into you. His tone brimmed with longing, hunger sharpened into something almost reverent, like you’d cursed him into desiring you more with every defiance. His expression was maddened devotion, a face caught between fury and lust.

You were panting still, your whole chest aching from the run and you managed only a simple, teasing “Maybe,” letting the word curl sly from your mouth. A ghost of a grin tugged your lips upward. His gaze immediately dropped there, locked on your mouth like he wanted nothing more than to bite that grin off, to turn it into moans of pain and pleasure until you’d choke on his name.

Those red eyes flicked back up, heavy and hot, dripping with a want he didn’t even try to hide.

Dragging yourself upright, you brushed dirt from your shirt, muttering through a ragged breath, “Had a dream, y’know. You and me, runnin’ in the woods.” You said it like it wasn’t the same nightmare you’d just survived, like it was nothing more than a memory of fun.

He let a humorless laugh push from his chest, but it died quick, eyes flashing. “How much more d’ye want t’ play, eh? How long d’ye think ye can keep testin’ me?”

You shrugged, as though his inhuman gaze didn’t freeze your bones, as though his devil-red eyes weren’t already writing a list of ways to ruin you. “Could leave whenever, y’know. World’s full of people.”

His answer was blunt, his voice unshaken. “Don’t want others. Want you.” No hesitation or wavering.

Your lips curved sharper at that, teasing again. “Enjoy that run back there, did ye? Or maybe you liked me paintin’ your face better?”

For a moment his jaw flexed like he’d strike, but instead his words slithered low. “Liked it better when ye were beneath me. When ye were about t’ be mine.”

He lifted one clawed hand, opening it toward you, offering and command at once, palm scarred, fingers tipped in black claws. “Let’s do it again. End it different this time.” He didn’t need to say what he meant, his voice dripped with it, soaked in the promise of your body bent, taken, ruined by his hands and cock until you’d never taunt him again.

“Why the hell would I do that?” Your voice cut bluntly.

That was when he smiled, it wasn’t right that grin. Wide and feral, pulling his features into something too sharp and predatory, yet it was handsome in the kind of way you weren’t meant to touch. His fangs gleamed white and wet in the dim, lips parted as he mumbled through his accent, low and dark, “’Cause ye want me same as I want you. Felt it earlier when I felt ye pokin’ me. But it wasn’t that little dagger ye cling to.” His laughter rasped and shallow, a breathless insult wrapped around want.

Your eyes fell, traitorous, to the weapon at your side. You couldn’t keep his gaze. He was right, when he’d pinned you and pressed you down into the dirt with his body, you had been hard and aching. The thrill was an infection, the danger of him had already wrapped its hooks in your flesh.

Could you really believe him, that you weren’t just another victim in a long, bloody list across centuries? That when he said you were his, it wasn’t the same lie whispered to countless others? You had lived with the knowledge since that first night, catching him feeding on some stumbling drunk in the forest that he wasn’t salvation. You’d barely gotten home before his hunger had turned on you then and he had stayed.

That night, and the next, and the next, lingering at your door, speaking low through the walls until dawn forced him to vanish.

Now, again, he leaned against your doorframe, claws itching to drag you through. His voice dropped softer, stubborn yet near pleading. “Let me in, please. Just a taste, I promise ye.”

You stood your ground, lifting your shirt instead. Slowly peeling it over your head, baring your chest and the hip he’d injured with his claws. The marks were raw, dark red gouges striped into your skin, bleeding in thin trails. You let the shirt fall, discarded on the floor and met his gaze as his eyes dropped instantly to the wounds.

His stare devoured you, from the slope of your sculpted chest and arms, the definition carved by years of labor, down to the claw marks painted red across your side. His throat worked, a swallow audible in the silence and fresh drool slicked his mouth, sliding down his chin. To him, you looked perfect: marred by him, each scar a signature he wanted to repeat across your entire body. He didn’t even try to hide the way he licked his lips, hunger dripping with lust until his fangs shone wet again.

You drew the dagger, pressing its carved tip into the wounds he’d left. The wood soaked it greedily, grain darkening as blood spread through and got absorbed thanks to it’s porous nature.

His voice hitched for the first time since you met him, rushed and uneven. “Give it here. Hand it over, darlin’. Ye won’t be needin’ that shite anymore. Not with me.”

Considering his offer as you tilted your head before murmuring, “You’re right. Don’t need it. Trash now.” You moved, as though to walk and throw it aside.

“Wait.” His words snapped like a whip, edged with panic. His tone—Remmick’s tone—wasn’t steady now. It was rushed, whined through clenched teeth, claws twitching against the wood of the doorframe as though he’d rip it to splinters. “I spend my nights here with ye every night. Watchin’ and waitin’. Least ye can do’s give me somethin’ back.”

The smirk on your lips rose despite the pulse thundering in your ears. “Ask nicely.”

His eyes burned hotter, jaw clenching, drool spilling shamelessly as his mouth parted wider, hand slapping against the wall beside the doorway, claws scraping wood as he leaned closer until only the thing that held him back from you was his vampiric nature.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, voice rasping thick with accent, hunger bleeding through, “sweet boy, darlin’, let me taste ye. Please. Think of ye every night I’m alone, every second wasted ‘cause ye ain’t in my arms. Let me have somethin’ o’ ye.” His breath hit your skin, warm and rancid with the copper stink of blood.

You pressed the blood-soaked dagger harder into your wound, red welling fresh. His words faltered, tripped, gaze locked on the crimson trail sliding over your skin, chest heaving ragged now. His eyes blazed while he stuttered, almost drunk on the sight of you hurting yourself for him.

Waiting for a while, let him starve on the vision a little longer and then flicking the dagger towards him.

He caught it instantly, claws curling around it as he dropped to his knees right there, shameless, sinking low in the doorway. His mouth latched on, sucking, groaning guttural as he drew your blood from the wood. His fangs scraped, cracking the thing, splitting the grain to lick deeper and swallow everything.

You sank to the floor opposite him, breath slowing as you watched. He stared back the entire time, red eyes locked, never breaking contact, jaw working as wet squelch of saliva, crunch of splintering wood, slurp of your blood being drawn out filled the air. The side of his face you wounded had now completely healed.

He groaned deep while devouring your offering, body shaking faintly, lips stained crimson, tongue darting to lap every drop from the jagged edges.

Between slurps and quiet moans that shivered up his throat, he spoke, words dragging against the wood he tongued like it was your skin.

“Tell me, sweet thin’… tell me more ‘bout that dream ye had.”

You stayed silent at first, watching him fall apart over a shard of blood-soaked wood. The groans he let slip, the thick lines of drool smeared down his chin and jaw, that twitch of his throat as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful made your chest burn.

It was impossible not to notice the bulge straining against his pants, heavy and shameless, the sight was almost worse than the sucking sounds he made.

Finally, you spoke, voice hoarse from running, from fear, from the sharp ache between your legs. “I remember runnin’ in the woods, not knowin’ where I was goin’. Somethin’ chasin’ me… till it caught me.”

A dangerous purr rumbled from him as he gnawed the stake between his fangs, muffled words dripping hunger. “Christ… I love how ye taste, darlin’. Even better than I imagined all them nights, thinkin’ and wantin’ ye.” His clawed hand squeezed the weapon tighter, like he wanted to crush it to splinters and drink every last drop.

“Things ended differently though, in the dream. Not like minutes ago. You’re weaker than I thought.” You twisted the knife deeper into his ribs with your tongue.

His growl was guttural, caught between his teeth, vibrating through the dagger as he sucked it still. The sound came low first, then rose higher, a beast’s frustration leaking around every greedy mouthful he pulled from your blood-soaked wood.

He tore his mouth away, gasping, lips stained crimson. “Ain’t enjoyed a thin’ since I met ye that night. Everyone else is stale ‘nd bitter. Ye’re the only taste I want. Can’t keep away, can’t stay gone more than a second after the sun lets me out.”

As if to prove it, his free hand slid down, cupping himself through the fabric, fingers pressing hard into the bulge. He groaned thickly around the piece of wood as he freed himself, belt undone with a snap, trousers shoved low. His cock was heavy, swollen red at the tip, veins standing out with each pulse of his hunger. Shamelessly he gathered the drool on his chin in his right hand and began pumping himself slowly, the dagger still in his other hand, lips wet and parted. “Ye’ve no fuckin’ clue what ye do t’ me.”

As you tilted your head, voice wicked sweet when answering back, “Maybe I do.”

He snarled through his teeth, stroking himself rougher, hips twitching as his cock throbbed in his hand. His voice rasped low, dark with threat and adoration both. “S’rude t’ stare.”

You shot back harsh, “Look who’s talkin’. You haven’t stopped oglin’ me since the first night. Even now, sittin’ there, droolin’ like an animal while ya fist yourself.”

A dark chuckle tore from him, broken by a gasp that almost turned into a moan as he squeezed himself harder. His head tipped back briefly, throat exposed, before snapping forward again to watch your lips. “Can ye blame me? Have ye sittin’ right there, cock twitchin’ same as mine, not even afraid of what I am.” He licked his lips, fangs glistening. “We could make up for wasted time, darlin’. Ye could give me more than a bloody stick. M’ imagination’s only good for so long.”

His gaze fell to the tent in your trousers, your breath ragged and shallow. You let your hand trail down, mimicking his movements and palming yourself through fabric until you freed it. Blood from your side slicked your palm as you smeared it across your cock, stroking slow, deliberate.

A deep purr shivered through his fangs, eyes glowing hotter. “Christ, look at ye makin’ yerself sweeter…”

Both of you were lost in it. Stroking, breathing hard, locked eye to eye. His hand moved rough and desperate, claws scraping his own shaft dangerously, the dagger tossed aside as his free hand slicked spit down his cock. Yours moved smoother, but taunting, dragging fingers up and down your length, thumb teasing the head, using your own blood as lube.

He begged without saying the word, voice trembling in command that wasn’t command at all. “Keep goin’. Tell me more ‘bout the dream.” His cock twitched violently in his hand at the sight of you, precum leaking over his fingers as he watched you stroke yourself.

You bit your lip, muffling the groan, speaking through your teeth. “I remember ya takin’ me right there on the dirt. Couldn’t stop you, just kept…goin’.” Your lip bled faintly from how hard you bit it.

He groaned low, guttural, cock jerking hard as he stroked faster. “Even yer wicked mind can’t get away from me.”

You clenched your eyes shut, the haze of pleasure building, then forced them open to glare. “Stop strokin’.”

And he did. At once, his clawed hand froze around his cock, thick and twitching, precum dripping down to his knuckles. His mouth hung open, sharp fangs glistening, drool sliding in thin streams down his chin, yet he obeyed, staring at you with desperate red eyes as you gave him the show of his life.

“Felt like it went on forever in the dream. Ye fuckin’ me over and over, never stoppin’.” You kept talking through shaky breaths.

A growl ripped from his chest, feral, vibrating the room. It stretched into a whine as his cock throbbed violently in his clawed fist, every ounce of his restraint keeping him from breaking your command. He spat the words through clenched teeth: “I’ll do it the second I catch ye. Gonna savor every second, lad. Gonna pay ye back for every night I’ve waited till yer mind can’t think of nothin’ but me.”

Your body trembled, your strokes frantic now, the words pushed you closer to the edge.

He groaned, whined and pleaded in his accent. “I won’t stop, darlin’. Gonna take ye all night till yer body breaks on me. When ye can’t take more, I’ll stay deep in ye, keep me warm in yer body while I hold ye in me arms, make sure even your dreams’re filled with me ruinin’ ye.”

That was the final shove, heat erupted through you, release spilling thick across the floor, streaking his dirty tank and his bare abdomen as it splattered him. You gasped, muscles clenching, every nerve on fire.

He saw and lost it.

Greedy, he smeared your spend across his cock with one hand, licking the other clean, groaning filthy as your taste hit his tongue again.

“Christ, let me—let me do it too,” he rasped, voice cracked with both demand and plea, his accent heavier the more undone he became. “Please, me darlin’. Let me.”

You met his stare, chest rising sharp, words bitten out through your own haze “Get up and fuckin’ do it.”

He obeyed like he’d been leashed. Instantly, without hesitation, he rose to his feet, cock bouncing heavy as it slapped against his abdomen. His hand snapped back to it, stroking with feral force, knuckles white around his girth. His red eyes never once left you, devouring you, tracing the blood still slicking your hip, the smear of his earlier mess drying on your skin, open mouth that betrayed just how much you affected him.

His own lips hung slack, fangs glistening, drool trailing down in threads from his chin as the wet slap of his strokes filled the space between you, breathing turning into guttural growls that shivered with need.

The growl he made was inhuman, a rumble at the base of his chest, vibrating his ribs. It grew, climbed, warped into a roar that bled through his fangs as his head tipped back, throat exposed, cords standing out. His cock jerked violently in his clawed grip, spurting hot release in heavy ropes.

The first hit your chest, a wet slap that streaked across your sternum, the second struck your throat, thick and messy, painting your skin white and dripping quickly into the hollow of your collarbone. He snarled as more shot forward, his seed splattering across your lips, jaw, flecking your cheek. Some smeared across your abdomen where you already glistened with your own.

Remmick’s body shook as he pumped himself through the aftershocks, still wringing every drop out onto you, marking you.

Those glowing red dot dragged across every stripe he had left and his grin curved sharp, fangs wet and glinting.

He dropped down to one knee before you, the old boards of your threshold groaning beneath his weight. His cock was still in his hand, twitching, already swelling again as if release had done nothing but sharpen his hunger.

“Darlin’, may I come inside? Let me have ye proper, let me ruin ye the way we both fuckin’ know ye want.” He rasped, voice guttural, pleading buried beneath the rasp of command. His breath brushed your cheek, warm and wet, the smell of fresh kills rolling with every exhale, wrapping around you like smoke.

You couldn’t answer, your chest rose shallow, the hand that had just stroked yourself still sticky, fingers twitching at your thigh as you stared at him. Confusion clouded your face, furrowed brows and lips parted slightly as if caught between wanting to spit in his face or whisper yes. Your gaze flicked down his length, back to his eyes, then away, uncertain, unsure, your expression as much a denial as it was a temptation.

The forest around you shifted. High above the treeline, the first slices of sunlight broke through. A beam struck across your face, sudden and blinding, heat making you wince, forcing your eyes shut.

You raised a hand to shield yourself, fingers blocking the blaze and blinked hard against the searing light.

When you lowered your hand and your lashes lifted, he was gone.

The doorway stood empty and only the lingering scent of blood and the sticky mess he’d left on your body told you he had ever been there at all.

–There’s love, then there’s what Remmick does to what’s his.

A union with him is a bond that doesn’t happen under church bells, not when those bells rang out during the razing of his bloodline. He married you the old way: with his mouth stained red and your wrists held together in a blood path, just like how it was done when he was still a lad dreaming of meeting the person meant f’ him.

You’re the thing that brought light back to eyes that had only known fire and rot, someone who he watched before he ever spoke a word.

Being married to Remmick means being the anchor for something older than war and crueler than death, something that looks at the world through narrowed eyes and sees what it could burn to keep you warm.

You wake with your thighs sore, not always from sex, sometimes it’s from how tightly he held you while you slept, a possessive tangle, limbs like iron.

It was Ulster, he says, though the name is broken now, shattered into anglicized syllables by men who cut down groves to raise churches. His father’s land was rolling green and sacred, until they came with crosses and steel, not to conquer land—they did that too—but to smother a tongue.

The land spit him out, the old gods twisted him up, reshaped him, sent him out to wander and he’s been newly alive since then, a hundred identities deep, every one of them mad with longing.

He never had anyone close who cared f’ him, hence why he made a vow to himself to protect and keep ye safe from everyone and everything.

Except from himself.

“No one’ll hurt ya, mo chroí. Not while I’m with ye.”

You believe him when he kisses your temple and says, “I love ye.”

Because he does.

—Him teaching you the dances of his kin

“Perfect night f’ learnin’, innit? Dance wi’ me.”

He’d said it with a grin that showed too many teeth, his breath stained thick with the blood of what he’d just done. The shirt clung to him, what had once been white, now brown-black and soaked. It hugged the plane of his chest, every curve of muscles and jagged scar on his ribs.

“Please,” he added, tugging you closer, his red eyes low and soft with the kind of affection that makes gods jealous.

He cupped your face in a wet hand, thumb brushing your cheek like it was clean to then kiss you fast and breathless, full of heat and copper, the taste of iron on his tongue heavy and unique.

Then lifted you by the waist like you weighed nothing and set you down in the perfect position. His jaw glistened where his tongue hadn’t cleaned it yet, throat streaked with arterial splatter.

“Now listen t’ me, mo chroí. You’ve gotta hold the rhythm here,” and he tapped your chest, just over your heart, blood wetting your shirt from his hand. “Not here.” He tapped your head, more playful than threatening.

He stepped back, stance square and arms stiff, chest puffed out with something proud. One leg shifted, heel lifted and slammed down once.

He lifted again and struck twice. Sharp, hard, deliberate.

Heels and toes flashing in place, stamping a pattern, body that didn’t move above the waist.

You tried to keep up as he coached you roughly, with a laugh and a growl in his voice.

“Keep them arms still, love.” He said, grabbing your hips and yanking you closer,

Your body began to move on instinct, tripped and fell . He caught you with one arm around your waist, hand pressing your thigh up against his, forcing you to feel the heat through blood-slick fabric.

“Don’t think. Just be.”

Every time you missed a step, he pulled you tighter, whispering encouragements between curses in a language you didn’t know while slowly learning the process.

In this way, we he’ll his kin again, you’ll do this wi’ him in the many endless nights together to come with your new family and husband.

The moment your fingers slid into his, it changed. He brought your knuckles to his lips, licked the blood off them like it was cream, claws dragged across your pulse point and he murmured, “Like this.”

He placed your hand on his chest, sticky and hot.

He stepped forward, pressed you back then stepped again.

One-two-three.

A gentle box, then quick flicks of the heel. A circle. A stomp.

Then his hips twisted, sharp. His fingers pulled you close, flush to his waist. You felt him hard between your thighs, even through the layers, thick and insistent.

He spun you again but this time, he caught you when you turned. Every time your hips aligned, you felt the hard line of him, cock rigid, pressing against your ass with each swivel.

“Keep movin’. Yer doin’ so well, pet.“

—There is no worse curse for a creature like Remmick than the sun.

That great gilded eye in the sky turns him from a predator into a prisoner.

You’ve spent countless days with him in houses of now dead people while the sun still hasn't left.

“Look at this, aye?” He’d call from the next room, chest still slick from the kill hours before, carrying a bundle of clothing scavenged from closets. He tried them on to find anythin’ good f’ him or throw to your way what he thinks would look stunning on your body.

His frame made everything look absurd, sleeves extending over his blood soaked claws, collars large and exposing all the red on his neck.

It never failed to make you laugh so hard you had to grip anything to support yourself and Remmick watched you with a look of worship.

He’d slaughter f’r that sound.

Then he would reach for your beautifully trembling form and when he grabbed you, he’d either drag you down onto the floor of the home, between scorched curtains and broken furniture, on top of the bed available there and getting it ruined with his sticky figure.

Blood that never dried on him and it soaked into the seams of his trousers, crusted beneath his jaw, caked under his nails, always with a lingering warm and copper stink.

He kissed you with that blood, let it mix in your mouth and you didn’t care.

He fucked you with intent, every inch of thrust heavy with possession, every groan a promise.

He had time, see. The sun gave him time and now that you belonged to him, he used it over and over.

Again and again.

He could go for hours after all.

Daylight meant he couldn’t leave and do anything but have you, thrusting so hard against you that one time the bed broke and you hit the floor together, tangled and laughing and gasping while blood smeared across both your chests from the unhealed scratches his claws left down your spine.

Sometimes you woke up to him already inside you, whispering in your ear how much he missed you while he was asleep.

—There was a game you both enjoyed to play together.

He called it “huntin’ me sweet lamb down.”

The sweet chase, but when he’s got his arms around your waist, mouth at your neck, voice a filthy growl in your ear, it always sounds like more than that.

The rules were simple, you go out there while the sun’s still pissing light across the trees. Pick an hidin’ spot—tree, den, cave, he doesn’t give a fuck where— and when that bright ball in the skin finally drops, he’ll come find you.

The moment he lets you go, you run.

You’re his darlin’ now but the predator in him doesn’t rest and he loves nothing more than chasing you down like prey.

The sun keeps you safe but only for a while when you’re out there, wind biting at your cheeks, skin already slick with sweat and it feels like you can almost outrun what he is.

Almost.

You find a hide each time. Some root hollow beneath a tree, a collapsed chapel where moss grows over the altar. Sometimes the back of a half-sunken cabin.

The sun dies and the woods change.

He’s coming.

You hear breath, thick and excited, the low rumble of a growl stitched into his chest.

Holding your breath never helps.

“Smell ya, boy,” his voice calls out once, thick with lust and laughter. “Gods, yer ripe.”

He’s suddenly there, behind you, clawed fingers around your throat, dragging your body back against his already hard and blood-warm length. His breath saws against your neck, lips drag across your ear.

“Gotcha,” he groans and then takes you.

Wherever you fall, he fucks you like you’re still his catch. His hips slam into yours with filthy rhythm, claws carving little moons into your hips. He growls and moans into your mouth, his voice fractured from hunger and relief, with love so violent it aches.

Frightening all the animals nearby due to him howling into your shoulder as he fucks you into the dirt like he’s trying to own the whole of you again and again until there’s nothing but him and the echo of your moans in the dark.

—Jealousy comes easy to him and it always violent.

There was that one time when it wasn’t Remmick who found you first.

You’d been running longer that night. A storm was coming and you’d felt bold, slipping farther than usual into the thick part of the woods. You were near your hiding place, nearly safe when—

Snap.

A branch broke beneath someone’s foot.

You turned fast, heart stuttering. Two men, locals. Hunters. One older, rifle across his shoulder. The other younger, eyes narrowing as they took in your scratched face, your half-buttoned shirt, the bruises too precise to be anything but deliberate.

“Jesus,” the older one muttered. “You alright, kid?”

You tried to speak, but your breath caught.

They saw the cuts, the healing bites along your collar. Your shirt half torn and soaked in red (mostly of others, a bit of yours).

“C’mere,” the other said. “We got a fire goin’ back at camp. You don’t look safe out here.”

You shook your head and tried to explain that you weren’t the one in danger.

Couldn’t do it without sounding insane.

Because what do you say? The thing that marked me did it with love?

They didn’t listen, one touched your arm and you flinched.

“Hey, hey. No one’s gonna hurt you. Let’s get you safe, alright?”

You looked to the sky, the sun was dipping.

They started walking with you, one behind and the other beside.

You tried to keep calm and to stall until darkness surrounded you and the two others unfortunate kind souls.

Then a wet gurgle came from behind you, the kind of sound lungs make when they collapse.

The man behind you had his throat occupied by Remmick’s mouth buried in it.

His jaw was unhinged, fangs sunk so deep they almost pierced the man’s spine. Blood pulsed in long, thick jets while his eyes glowed red and furious.

The second hunter shouted, aimed too late and your husband slammed the man’s skull so hard into a tree the bark split.

He lunged and sank into the neck again, this time with a loud growl. Blood sprayed across the roots while claws tore into the man’s chest, rending fabric and skin like paper. He bit so hard it sounded like he was going to tear the man’s head off.

You stumbled back, finally letting your legs fold. The tree at your back felt cold, the bark dug into your skin.

A single blink from your eyes and he was on you, knees straddling yours, hands on either side of your body. blood dripping in fat drops everywhere from his mouth, chin and chest.

His red eyes were wild, angry and so deeply in love it hurt to look at them.

“You okay?” he rasped. His voice was shaky. “Tell me, love. Tell me yer okay.”

Doesn’t even wait for an answer back since soon his lips engulf yours.

Mouth bloody, tongue pushing past your lips with hunger, the taste of metal exploded inside your mouth. He moaned into it, body pressed closer, his hips rocking down instinctively.

You gripped his back, breath caught, body aching and raw from the run and Remmick—your monster—made sure to let the forest know you were taken.

–Remmick is completely drunk of your blood

It always stars slow with a look flickering between your throat, lips and the vein pulsing gently beneath your skin.

A whisper at your ear, thick with his lilt, that awful heat that clings to the skin.

“Just a drop, love,” he murmurs, breath heady with bloodlust. “Only a taste. A sip, aye?”

He’s always so sweet about it at first.

Always asks and never demands.

But there’s something in the way he strokes your arm while those thick fingers trace your skin with such reverence it borders on obsessive, claws extending a little more with every pass over your skin.

And when you nod?

That’s when you see the madness taking root.

Remmick breathes you in before he even breaks the skin, presses his mouth along your shoulder, your wrist, the inside of your thigh, anywhere his hunger leads him, savoring every inch of you like a starving man whispering over a feast.

A claw, razor-sharp, drawn just deep enough to break the skin and his mouth’s on it before the first drop has time to fall.

The obscene and guttural moan he lets out vibrates straight into your bones. He licks it, slurps it, sucks from you with noisy, wet sounds like your body’s a spring and he’s been dying of thirst for years.

The warmth is drained from you, followed by the ache it leaves behind as he drinks like a beast trying to remember how to be gentle.

He fails at that part.

Often.

Because one taste and his body reacts before his mind does.

His cock stiffens immediately, pressing hard against the seam of his trousers or slapping hot against your thigh, already leaking and ready.

He stops asking, claws move again and faster this time.

The cuts multiply.

But worse, or better, the way his body grinds into yours as he drinks. Every drop of your blood is a trigger.

Because when he drinks, he fucks different, losing himself totally.

His cock is already thick inside you, stretching your hole wide, hot and pulsing with unnatural need, but as the blood flows, his hips begin to move with a rhythm that’s terrifying.

You gasp, chest arching, body twitching from overstimulation but he never stops.

The blood makes him sloppy and senseless, thrusts growing more desperate, slurring your name and dragging the syllables out like a prayer from how good you taste and felt.

He’s talking more to himself now, hips snapping forward in erratic jerks, cock grinding deep inside you with every bite, every slurp, every groan against your trembling skin.

Those fingers holding his shoulders go numb, your vision swims and it becomes impossible to tell how long it’s been.

“You’re so good f’r me,” he slurs. “So sweet and warm…”

He presses his face against your neck, inhaling your scent like it’s the only thing anchoring him to reality. Then he finds another cut somewhere under your ribs, made minutes ago but already forgotten, to sink into it again, slurping and moaning.

A monster without brakes that will fuck you into unconsciousness and delirium, until your eyes roll back and your lips go slack. Your voice, the one he adores, is now reduced to broken gasps and cracked sobs that stutter in your throat.

“Sing f’r me, mo chroí.” Another slow, deep thrust.

–Remmick loves your voice

It’s written on every inch of him when he’s near you. The last thing he ever expected to find again was someone whose voice could soothe. Someone who didn’t speak to beg but to simply be.

It doesn’t matter if you tell him you can’t sing like ‘im. You hum when the wind rattles outside whatever slaughterhouse you’ve made home for the night and your hand is over his scalp, fingers buried in the mess of short curls while his head rests on your rising against his cheek as you whisper some tune.

You’ll feel his hands creep around your waist and stay there, claws blunted just for you, stroking slow over your skin as his ear rests against your heart, letting every beat and soft sound you make sink into his mind.

He’ll purrs against your chest, slow and low, a vibration that tickles through your ribs and feels just a bit too inhuman to belong in a man.

If you stop or fall quiet too long?

He’ll whimper quietly, sound muffled by your chest while those claws will start to apply more pressure.

But the part he craves most is the voice you make when he’s ruining you.

It starts with messy and possessive kisses, mouth all over your stomach, hips, chest and working lower from there. Every time you make even the smallest gasp, a caught breath or a curse whispered like a plea, he groans into your skin.

Tongue everywhere licking you in long and slow drags from the base of your abdomen all the way up to your nipples, circling the area to make you twitch before dipping lower again.

You always try to keep quiet, biting your knuckles, pressing your head into the mattress, hissing and shuddering as he spreads your thighs apart.

But then his tongue really starts, dragging over your hole slow and with purpose. Licks in tight circles, dips deep, pulls back and then devours again, slurping and groaning with the pure intent to make you singin’ f’ him.

A hoarse, open-throated shout leaves your lips when he slides his tongue inside. It hits deep, twisting with a strength and wet heat that makes your back arch clear off the ground while he purrs against the soft skin, lips slick with drool.

And he doesn’t stop.

He’ll eat you out for hours. That inhuman stamina of his means he never tires, never slows or falters. His mouth stays locked on you until your thighs are shaking uncontrollably around his ears and your voice is breaking.

The first sting from his fangs hits like a static shock every time, a faint drag with thin pressure under the skin as his canines skim the curve of your ass cheek.

A hiss or flinch from your body and he’ll growls possessively.

And then he does it again, a nick this time too sharp. Warmth bloom there, wet and hot while his tongue immediately starts lapping it up.

“Mmh,” he moans, voice broken with need, licking the blood slow and long. “There’s me flavor.”

Something changes.

His grip tightens, claws digging into your hips, pulling your ass back hard into his face, nose pressing in deep between your cheeks, tongue spearing your hole again, faster now, hips grinding the floor because the the salt of your skin and the iron heat of blood mixed on his tongue is driving him wild.

Another nip, then another.

Tiny cuts along the swell of your ass, left by the tips of his fangs, shallow enough to leak and let him feed.

His tongue doesn’t stop, hole slick and swollen, twitching around every thrust of his tongue as he devours you, blood-sticky lips sliding up and down, covering you in spit and heat and groaned-out filth.

You try to lift your hips but he slams a clawed hand down against your abdomen and holds you there.

The wounds sting, but you love to hear the lewd, wet noise of him feasting as licks getting messier and faster while blood slicks down his chin and down your thighs.

Blood pours down hot and thick the more those fangs graze and cut, coating your crack and his tongue immediately goes back to work, licking it clean and spreading it for his cock rock-hard and leaking between his legs.

When he finally lifts his head, it’s slow.

Lips red, chine soaked and eyes glowing. His tongue drags across his lips, collecting the blood with a satisfied hum, ready to fuck you full ‘til blood ain’t the only thing leakin’ out.

–Remmick doesn’t care about wealth.

You learned that early on one of the first nights together, still trembling from the heat he’d dragged from your body, your pulse thready from blood he’d lapped up with a tongue too eager and skilled. He lay beneath you in the wet grass, shirt undone, hair damp.

His fingers, still sticky with what he’d pulled from your skin, slid idly across your ribs.

He cradled those three gold coins in his palm.

“That’s all I got from them,” he said, voice distant, thick. “Me father’s. He buried ‘em under the stone by the burn when the Brit bastards came and I dug ‘em out the night he died.”

His eyes flashed red.

“Took everythin’ that sounded like us.”

He tucked the coins away after that, down into the band around his wrist, wrapped tight in leather.

You hadn’t seen them again since because Remmick doesn’t hoard objects.

He hoards moments, memories.

You're the only thing in the world he believes worth owning.

So no, he doesn’t need money.

But he’ll still treat you like royalty.

In his way.

–Helping him feed.

It always starts the same.

A house, hideout, a cabin or a mansion.

You sneak in, a flick of a lock, a click of a window, sometimes a smile and a lie to get inside and say it.

“Come in.”

Then he’s there behind you, a sudden presence, dark and starving.

Whoever’s inside, doesn’t matter if they’re armed or not, kind or cruel, they die. Sometimes slow, if Remmick’s in the mood. Other times too fast, a red blur followed by screaming, then silence.

Free from the old habitant, the place then becomes your hideout.

The bed in there now barely recognizable. Old frame splintered, mattress soaked through with blood and worse, some of it yours, most of it not.

You lay there, legs still shaking, arms sore from trying to hold yourself up.

But Remmick doesn’t let you rest, he’s above you again, drenched head to toe, eyes gleaming like rubies.

Every breath from him is ragged, wet, filled with heat. Drool slides from the corner of his mouth, thick strings of it stretching down between you like webbing, occasionally flinging off and splattering across your face with the sheer force of his thrusts.

He pounds into you, hips driving his cock so fucking deep your guts shift to accommodate him.

You’re stuffed full from how many times he’s come inside you and much he’s spilled. The way your hole stretches to accept him again and again, how the cum that leaks from you makes every new thrust wetter and sloppier.

Every time he pulls out, it’s just to see the way your hole is gaping, pink and raw, drooling with the white mess he’s left inside before he’s slamming back in again.

The pressure’s unbearable like your body’s on the verge of bursting.

He watches your face.

“Still got room f’r me?” he growls, his voice trembling, that lilt warping into something feral.

Whimpering is the only thing you can do, hands scrabbling at his shoulders, his chest, the slick muscles under skin slicked in blood.

He licks a long stripe across your jaw, then thrusts hard as your legs wrap tight around his hips, desperate to feel the stretch and then he groans and thrusts deep.

His cock spasms inside you again to unleash another flood.

You choke on your own cry, your hands flying up to claw at his shoulders to anchor yourself while he’s grinding again, using your own body to milk his cock.

So full you can feel every drop sloshing when he shifts position, knees pressed wide, your legs folded back, him hovering above you.

—Cockwarming him in rivers while cleaning him up from all the blood.

There were times when you found peace with him. Brief, brutal little pockets of it.

The world would go silent after he tore through some lonely farmhouse, his body soaked in blood from chin to thigh, jaw dripping with the hot, copper-sweet echo of life still twitching in his mouth.

You’d find the nearest river or lake and he’d let you guide him there, like a lover returning from war.

He never asked to be cleaned but never stopped you.

The river was cold, he was not, especially after a kill, radiating heat like a furnace. Even submerged to the waist, the red across his chest clung to him like wet paint, curling away in slow ribbons as the current tried to peel it off.

You were already straddling his lap when he leaned back on his elbows and looked up at you, breathless and half-laughing.

“Go on, clean me. Make me pretty f’r ye.” He said, thick brogue curling out.

When your slick, well-used hole eased slowly onto the thick, unyielding length of his cock, still hard and pulsing with unstated need, he didn’t move for a full ten seconds.

That cruel, devilish grin that spread across his face, full of fangs and stained in dried blood, his tongue flicking out to taste the air.

Bringing a handful of river water to his ribs and let it spill over the curve of muscle.

Then his hips would shift.

Your hole stretched around him, twitching, clenched tight to hold his cock inside buried to the hilt, hot, heavy and wide, the curve of him pressing deliciously against your prostate even when he didn’t move.

But every time he did such an evil action, it was agony. Ecstasy and terror mixed together.

Your hands trembled against his chest as you tried to do your job, scooping handfuls of water from the river and pouring it over his collarbone, the crimson trails melting and swirling into pink rivulets as they slipped down his chest.

His breath hitched every time your fingers brushed one of the older, deeper scars or the still-warm gouges from some recent struggle.

Water splashed from your hands and voice cracking on his name as your hole clenched tight around him, cock grinding against that tender, devastating spot inside of you.

The river couldn’t cool the heat in your gut or the fire inside your hole, where his cock sat so fat, throbbing against your insides.

Trying again to scoop water in your palms, it landed over his face and he leaned into it, eyes closed, as you tried to focus on cleaning him, scrubbing the clotted red from his temple, from the stubble along his jaw.

Always he tilts his head, jerks his chin up toward you with that cocky and devilish grin, lips parted wide to show those fangs stained with blood from the throats he tore open hours ago.

You lean in, hands trembling, thighs shaking from how deep he’s sitting in you, still nestled tight and fat inside your stretched, dripping hole. Your lips brush over the curve of his mouth, pressing your tongue out, dragging it along the corner of his mouth and tasting the blood smeared across his fang.

His body rumbles beneath yours, a purr tied to a warning.

Your tongue laps higher, over his bottom fangs and flicking between. Your own moan vibrates up your throat as your body jolts again from another lazy grind of his hips.

Watch out. One poke or cut on your tongue from those small blades, one small droplet of your appetizing blood, is all it takes for him to go feral, slamming his mouth to yours, claws digging into your back as he pulls you down, shoving his tongue into your mouth and tasting that single drop of your blood.

Cock plowing into your ass again and again, forcing your insides to stretch all over again, hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back and your throat choke out broken cries.

His lips smear blood across your face as he kisses you open-mouthed, tongue everywhere. Hips slamming, water splashing as your whole body is shoved up and down.

One side of his face clean thanks to you, the other still caked in crimson, smeared wild.

That grin never falters even as he pumps another load into your abused hole, hot and heavy, belly twitching from the sheer volume of it, you see his fangs flash behind his parted lips and he smiles like a devil in love.

Your devil.

When he finally lets you breathe, you find your mouth sticky, raw, stained red from kissing him.

–One Day It will happen

Living with Remmick means living with the weight of inevitability.

You don’t speak of it. Not out loud, but it sits between you in every blood-slick morning, every gasped moan through your raw throat after he’s drained you nearly dry and fucked you stupid.

You know what eventually will come.

Maybe it’d be a night like any other, his mouth warm, tongue greedy and claws tender around your wrists as he whispered, “Let me, pet, just a taste, aye?”

And then the next.

And the next.

Your head would roll back, heart stutter and voice quiet down the more you’d go weak.

But he can’t stop because you taste too good. Belong too much to him.

A hundred small sips over the span of years, every one of them granted with your breathless little nod, every one accompanied by that low, desperate thank-you he groans into your skin like he can’t believe you’re still offering it. And he gets too drunk off the taste of you, too stupid and ravenous.

You can’t blame him, he’s only taking what you’ve given, but your body gives a little less back each time.

Your skin bruises easier, don’t heal as fast. Start to faint after fucking from pleasure and blood loss.

Maybe it won’t be the blood loss but the world.

It hates what you and Remmick are.

Someone might try to hurt you.

Has, already in the past.

Someone might injure you badly and Remmick won’t accept it.

He’ll be on his knees beside you, blood on his hands as he stares at your throat.

The same fangs he used to tear out the throats of people who dared glance at you, he’ll use those to selfishly save you from death.

He’ll bring you with him, teach you how t’ feed and live together wi’ him for eternity.

You’re too weak to answer, only whimper a simple “Do it” in your weak state and his mouth will be immediately on your neck.

His fangs sink in deep, piercing your artery and moans into your throat, loud and violent. Hips grinding down into your body even as you lie limp, arms squeezing tight and claws scratching.

Blood leaves you in waves as he slurps and gulp obscenely, your vision tunneling, body seizing to fights while your mind starts to go dark.

Remmick drinks until your pulse goes still, mouth pulling away from your neck, blood trailing in long strings from his lips to your skin. Eyes blazing and cock’s hard and throbbing, soaked in pre.

Mouth open and eyes full of love and possession.

Forever his now as your eyes open with a hunger worse than death, teeth throbbing and cock aching with need. You feel him pressed against you, all of him hovering above and trembling desperately.

You’re not human anymore, but you’re still his and changed entirely like him.

ceo, who had made the first mistake of his entire career. he never made mistakes until this, not ever. but hiring that man— that boy who was a disgrace to breathing the air you did? he would never make a mistake like that again. the constant side touches, the leers he'd give you each time you walked past him and his eyes would gaze down. constantly finding excuses to stay close to you. how could you not notice?

ceo, who truly had no issue if you didn't notice. he would simply make you notice and the problem would be solved. his fingers quickly typed along the keyboard, papers swishing, his shoes tapping against the marble tiled floor. the lovely sound of the nights birds tweeting, the printer shuffling, and the low hum of vibrators.

ceo, had you perched up on his desk like some cheap whore. your legs were tied with rope, forced to bend and have you sit on your heels. your arms were tied behind you, two toys connected to your body. he had taped the vibrator to your leaking cock, watching it move from aching so. the other was shoved up your hole, bigger than you usually handled. you hadn't known what you did, he never punished you without a reason, you didn't understand!

ceo, who slapped your thigh a different shade when you answered wrong. oh, he wanted you to guess what you did because he believed you did it on purpose. "p–please sir, im sorry.." his hand rested on your thigh, not even turning his head towards you. "for?" you shook your head, sniffling. "for upsetting you.." "and how did you upset me?" you squirmed, a whine cracking out of your throat. "i don't know!" a harsh thwak to your thigh had shut you up. it was a message. wrong answer, try again.

ceo, let you go after you had cum god knows how many times. two..three? five? you were crying, eyes too blurry to even see much at all. "sir please.." you had to beg, beg him for him to even consider listening. "im sorry, i didn't mean to." didn't mean to what? fuck, you still didn't know. he let the toys turn off, roughly untying those forsaken ropes that dug into your soft skin. "be here early tomorrow. no excuses.