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somedaylazysomeday · 1 year ago

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Good Intentions Part Thirteen

It's that time again...

Rating: Mature, 18+, lemon, etc

Word Count: 5,000

Warnings: mentions of sleeplessness, descriptions of a bar after hours, threats, ongoing references to sex as terms of a business agreement, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv sex, themes of intimacy.

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You rolled over, pressing your face into the arm you had folded across the soft surface of your pillow. The split second of wakefulness disappeared as you dropped back into sleep, but that had been enough to notice it: your mind was working on something.

It was unexpected. You hadn’t gone to sleep with a specific problem in mind and your bedtime routine had been utterly normal. The Haven was quiet for the evening, remarkably so. You were all set to go to The Last Drop the following day and make your regular payment to Silco.

It was time to turn onto your side. Your body had demanded the movement, breaking into the hazy half-dreams you had been experiencing to let you know. The change in position brought the constant workings of your thoughts to the forefront, but they weren’t ready yet. Your brain needed more time to work before delivering a solution.

Something was definitely happening, something your waking mind had missed. This had happened before. You tried to relax into sleep while your unconscious mind worked on whatever problem it had identified, but it was a struggle. Every time you rolled over, you woke up. Every time one dream ended, you found yourself blinking up at the darkened ceiling before dissolving into the next one.

It seemed like it was both a moment and an eternity later when your mind presented the final thought to you: your next payment to Silco was scheduled for that day. You had already known that, but you also had a full day of meetings scheduled, starting at roughly nine in the morning and running until almost midnight. You had forgotten the date you had scheduled all of the meetings to take place… at least, your waking mind had.

You were out of bed and on your feet faster than your brain could calculate, and you had to wait a moment before you could start haphazardly throwing clothes on. If you hadn’t been late to your previous meeting, you would feel more confident contacting Silco for a delay on your payment, but something told you he would be even less understanding now than he had been then.

The room was dark, and only the combination of a semi-reflective clock face and an obnoxious neon sign outside of your window allowed you to see the time: nearly 5:30 in the morning. With any luck, the Last Drop would be closed by the time you arrived, but Silco would still be around for you to speak with. You had never asked where he went during the day, and you didn’t have the slightest idea where to start looking for him.

You rushed out of the Haven’s side door, keeping your head down and your steps quick on your way, but it was still almost six by the time you reached the Last Drop. The lights were off and no music thudded through the courtyard in front of the building. Only the giant eye over the entrance was still glowing, though you could see some light through the windows.

When the doors opened under your hands, you breathed a sigh of relief. If they had been locked, you may have truly been out of options.

The inside of the Last Drop was nearly empty, as expected. The bartender looked tired, but he still glanced up at you with a weary resignation. “We’re closed for the night.”

He was a young man, wearing remnants of makeup around his eyes that had likely been smeared under his fingers. His clothes were wrinkled and you could see a notepad on the bar in front of him, covered in lines of numbers. You felt a surge of compassion for him. It was a little on the early side for you, but incredibly late for someone who worked in a bar.

So you kept your voice light as you replied, “‘Night’ may be a little generous. The sun will be up soon. I’m here to see-”

“Never mind,” he told you, turning away. “I know who you are. But the boss is done for the night, too. You’re out of luck.”

The panic rose in your throat, sharp and hot and burning acid. “Wait, please! I have to-”

“I can’t do anything for you,” he repeated. You could see the irritation and impatience on his face, but buried in that expression was fear. He was - like most people - afraid of Silco. Afraid of what would happen to him if he crossed a line and angered the head chem-baron.

You wished you could sympathize, but you knew exactly how he felt. In fact, your situation was probably more precarious than his, and you were willing to push.

Fortunately, you were saved from figuring out a way to do that by the sound of something heavy clattering against a table. You turned, instantly on-edge as you scanned the bar’s deserted seating area.

To your surprise, you caught sight of a blue-haired girl sitting in one of the booths. “Jinx?”

She flinched slightly, but beamed the next moment. “That’s me!”

Jinx was toying with something, the same thing that had made the loud noise a moment before. It was bulky and metallic, though its surface was covered almost completely by hand-drawn designs in a variety of eye-watering colors. It took entirely too long for you to realize that it was a grenade.

“So I see,” you told her, bemusedly. “What are you doing here? Especially so late?”

“Got stuck,” she said simply, waving the grenade at you. “This isn’t working the way I need it to. Sometimes, doing something different is enough to shake a new idea out, ya know?”

“I can relate.” You eyed her. It had been roughly six months since the first time you had met Jinx and you admittedly didn’t know her very well, but she didn’t look so great.

Jinx was a slender girl, not quite a teenager yet, but she was much closer than she had been the first time you met her. She looked at least a little taller now, though it was hard to judge when she was sitting slouched over the way she was. The thing that concerned you the most was the way her face looked. She was pale and drawn, dark circles under her eyes and a dark bruise on one corner of her jaw.

Your first thought was to wonder if Silco was mistreating her. Living conditions in the Undercity were dire, but Silco had money for food. Jinx was verging on skinny. That, combined with the tiredness on her face and the nasty bruise made you wonder…

Of course, you had dismissed the thought a moment later. Unless something dramatic had happened between Silco and his daughter in the past six months, abuse or neglect didn’t seem likely or even possible. It had taken precisely one interaction for you to realize how deeply Silco cared about Jinx.

“You know,” you said carefully, “sometimes, I get my best ideas when I’m sleeping.”

“Yeah?” she asked dryly. “That why you’re here so late?”

“Ironically, yes. I need to see y-” You paused awkwardly, horribly, as you remember Silco’s threat that he would end your agreement if he ever found out you had spoken to Jinx a second time. Of course, you were well past that. Still, you didn’t want to push your luck and it somehow felt worse to directly mention Silco’s relation to Jinx. “...you know, Silco.”

Jinx was amused by that, a wide grin breaking out across her face. With her voice lowered into a conspiratorial whisper, she said, “Don’t worry. I know he’s my dad.”

“Yeah.” If you’d only had Jinx’s self-assurance when you were that age…

Your thoughts were thoroughly interrupted by footsteps approaching from behind you, paired with a sharp voice. “Hey, I told you: there’s nothing I can do to help you. The boss is done for the night. Get out.”

Somehow, the problem had seemed almost salvageable as you spoke with Jinx, but it flooded back full-force as you turned to plead with the bartender and his smudged makeup. “Please, you don’t understand-”

“No, you don’t understand. The boss doesn’t like to be interrupted, especially not by random people off the street.” The bartender’s eyes slid until he was looking past you at Jinx. “How about this? If I tell him who you were so interested in talking to, he’ll probably set up a special meeting you won’t be able to miss-”

“Shut up, Chuck!” Jinx ordered, sliding out of the booth. You had a moment to realize that she was indeed taller than she had been when you had first met her, then you were distracted by her sudden, apparent fury. “Do you know how long I’ve been stuck? Do you? I’ll even give you a hint, Chuck: Days. And talking with her is the only thing that’s managed to help so far. Get it? Now walk away or I’ll make sure you’re my test subject when it’s ready.”

The bartender’s mouth had gone slack at Jinx’s tirade. As she delivered her final threat, his eyes darted to the grenade in her hand. And when she thrust that hand out toward him, his mouth snapped shut as he walked out from behind the bar and left The Last Drop entirely.

In the stillness of the now empty bar, Jinx turned to you, already wearing an expectant look. It seemed like a bad idea to ask anything too prying, so you settled for, “So his name is Chuck?”

“Of course it is!” she said instantly, so brightly that you sincerely doubted his name was Chuck. But she was smiling again, so you went along with it. “Now, you need to see my dad?”

“I really, really do.” The fervency in your tone may have been a bit much to put on a kid, but you were feeling a little desperate by that point.

“And you promise you’re not a prostitute?” Your mouth fell open at the unexpected renewal of Jinx’s suspicions on that point, but the girl gave a wicked cackle. “I’m just messin’ with ya! Come on.”

You couldn’t exactly ask questions since she had already taken off toward the back room of The Last Drop, but you certainly had plenty.

Those questions only compounded when Jinx took you through a circuitous route that seemed to be working in a very jagged circle. You never saw the same doorways twice, though, so you trailed along gamely behind her and hoped it wasn’t an incredibly complex trick meant to trap you in the middle of some twisted labyrinth.

Your journey ended when you followed Jinx up a set of creaking stairs. The top of the staircase featured a tiny landing, complete with a small shelf built into the wall. The shelf had a squat, rather ugly vase sitting on it. You might have chosen to put a light there instead, but it wasn’t your room. In fact, you weren’t even sure it was Silco’s. If nothing else, the vase didn’t seem to be his style.

“Okay, knock normally twice, pause for one second, then four quick knocks and tap twice on the vase.”

You were still processing that when Jinx hopped up on the sagging bannister. She waved at you as she pushed off with her feet and slid down faster than you could believe.

With the instructions still fresh in your mind, you knocked twice on the door, carefully let a full second pass, knocked four times so close together that it sounded like you had used both hands, then tapped the vase twice. The vase turned out to be secured to the shelf, which was good. In your nervousness, you had hit it a little too hard and would have been in danger of knocking it off completely.

When the sharp sound from your knuckles against the glass had faded, you took a deep breath and gingerly turned the doorknob. The room was dark, a complete inky void with one exception - the glowing orange point of an unnatural eye.

You felt like you were frozen, pinned in place by that unblinking gaze, but that apparently wasn’t true. Somehow, you shifted just enough to let some light pass you into the room, illuminating Silco more fully.

He was in bed. A distant part of your mind registered that Silco apparently had a bedroom in The Last Drop, but it wasn’t your major focus. He was leaning up to stare at the door, leaning on one elbow to support himself. His other hand was sitting at a strange angle, and you registered why as you saw the shine. He was holding a knife, no doubt retrieved from some well-concealed place in easy reach of the bed.

Silco didn’t strike you as the type to be unprepared, even in sleep.

“Well?” he asked irritably. “Now that you’ve interrupted my rest, do you intend to stand there? Dawn is coming.”

You wordlessly stepped into the room, letting the door close behind you. When you turned to be sure it closed - and to lock it if Silco wanted - you were only mildly surprised to find that the door itself, the handle, and the entire frame blended perfectly into the wall of the room. A hidden door made sense for someone whose power put him in consistently dangerous positions, but it still delighted the child in you. You’d always had a weakness for secrets.

Since there was nothing for you to lock, you turned back to Silco. Thankfully, your vision had adjusted to the darkness, because there was no illumination. Silco shouldn’t have worried at all about the dawn, since he didn’t have a window.

Silco had stowed the knife somewhere, but he was watching you with a hard stare that felt equally threatening. You stopped short as he said, “I told you to stay away from my daughter.”

“You did,” you agreed, feeling your heart rate increase. There was no use in arguing with that point, but maybe it would have been wiser to try. “To be fair, I didn’t approach her.”

There didn’t seem to be a way to argue that, since Silco sighed and raked fingers from his forehead back to the nape of his neck. His hair was more disheveled than you had ever seen it, and something about the mussed strands was making you feel distinctly twitchy. But you had to see if he was going to murder you horribly before you could think of doing something about that.

“Tell me what happened,” Silco ordered. “I was expecting you this afternoon.”

So you told him everything - your surprise schedule conflict, the unhelpful bartender, Jinx’s offer to bring you to her dad. You briefly mentioned Jinx’s claim that talking to you had helped her work on her grenade, but you didn’t belabor the point. You didn’t know how true it was, especially since you hadn’t discussed anything that remotely concerned engineering or explosives. Not that you would have been much help with either of those topics.

By the time you finished with your explanation, Silco was sitting up fully. He had propped a pillow behind his back to cushion himself from the headboard. His legs were resting straight out in front of him, slightly splayed and bent at the knees. He looked… casual. It was strange to see from someone who typically seemed so tightly buttoned.

It was only then that you realized he was wearing only a loose pair of pants, sitting bare-chested in front of you. Your mouth went dry and you could only hope the darkness hid the way your eyes had locked on his torso.

Your gaze was so intent that you jumped when he lifted an arm to beckon in your direction. He did seem to have seen that, if you were to guess by the smirk that lifted one corner of his mouth. Still, you took a step, then another, then another, until you were standing beside the bed.

Silco was actually a bit shorter than you like this, and it felt strange to look down at him. That didn’t curb any of the imperiousness in his voice as said, “Strip.”

The clothes you had thrown on before rushing out of The Haven were casual and comfortable. Shucking them off almost took less time than it had taken for Silco to issue his command. He still, of course, found time to talk.

“In the future, I would like you to contact me if there are issues with the timing of our meeting,” he informed you. “Though we decided against postponement last time you did so, it does not excuse your apparent refusal to do so a second time.”

You nodded, feeling slightly abashed. Realistically, you could very well have waited until one of The Haven’s guards was awake and sent them to deliver a message to Silco. He would have (probably) understood. It was difficult to tell with him, sometimes.

Before you could respond - though what would you realistically have replied with, an apology? - Silco spoke again. His voice sounded different then, and it took you a moment to recognize the difference in tone as mingled warmth, pride, and arousal.

“However, I cannot fault you for your initial reaction. I appreciate the fact that you were so distraught at the idea of missing our meeting that you rushed here without a second thought. In fact,” he caught at your wrist, towing you closer with that strength you had always found such a surprise for his wiry frame, “I think that kind of loyalty deserves a reward…”

He didn’t toss you onto the bed. It wasn’t his style. But the slow, inexorable pull was just as exciting. You wanted this, wanted it very badly, but the illusion of the lack of choice tricked your brain into dropping any guilt stemming from your connection with the city’s most notorious chem baron. (The same guilt seemed to get less and less noticeable every time you met with Silco, but that was a new source of guilt in itself.)

The important thing was that your half-hearted tug against his grip only made Silco bare his teeth in a grinning half-smile. He didn’t release you once you had knelt on the mattress, nor when you had laid down on its surface. No, Silco kept his hands on you, arranging your limbs until you were sprawled under him.

Your legs were carefully parted, allowing space for him between them. Realistically, you knew what was likely to happen, but you could hardly breathe with the anticipation of it. As Silco started moving steadily toward the apex of your thighs, your moan was half-excitement and half-relief.

As he slotted himself between your legs, eyes bouncing greedily between your face and your core, you watched the light of his orange eye with an unexpected sense of nervousness. Silco was intense in his office, but now you were in his room. The intimacy of it all struck you for the first time. He had allowed you into his private spaces when he easily could have ordered you away or killed you outright. Now your head was resting on his pillow as he parted your folds with something that approached glee.

Silco didn’t give you the chance to think much more about his room… or anything else. As his mouth delved toward your core, your thoughts were fully absorbed by him and the way he was making you feel.

He didn’t ease into things - starting off with a thrust of his stiffened tongue into your channel. You made a surprised little noise for him, one that turned abruptly louder as he gave a pleased hum and the vibrations went through you.

His fingers, the ones that had started by spreading you open for his mouth, didn’t stay still for long. They petted and stroked, pinched and speared. When Silco turned his mouth to other things, they took his place inside of you, opening you up for things to come. A pinky drifted downward to your rear, pressing on that ring of muscle. The digit never breached you but the light pressure was enough to keep you on-edge.

You arched and cried out when Silco’s lips closed around your clit. Within the pressured cavern of his mouth, his tongue teased that sensitive bundle of nerves until you were squirming under him. With his hands busy and his mouth occupied, Silco pinned you down with his shoulders against your thighs. The gentle, barely-there scrape of his teeth against you was enough of a warning that you forced yourself to lay still beneath him.

At least, you tried to. Silco was demanding, pulling every bit of pleasure from you with a lack of mercy that left you feeling raw. It didn’t help that you were flat on your back, fully under his power, and surrounded by the scent and heat of him. Just the feeling of being overwhelmed by this man made you writhe and squirm and beg beneath him, pretty pleas falling from your lips faster than you could ever hope to push them away.

“Come, my pet,” Silco ordered, moving the minimum amount to make his command audible. “Fall apart for me.”

And then his mouth slanted over your slit once more, delving deep and inevitable as he ripped your orgasm from you with a ferocity that left you breathless - though you still found the air to cry out for him.

When your pleasure had finally peaked and you fell into the post-orgasm lull - every muscle shuddering - Silco continued working his tongue over you. It wasn’t enough to push you fully into overstimulation, just enough to remind you that you were at his mercy.

Silco pulled away from you, your legs fell from where they had been wrapped around him. Instead, he crawled up the length of your body, licking and touching all the while. Somewhere in the rush, he had managed to kick away his loose pajama pants, leaving every bit of him brushing every bit of you. You were slack with pleasure, but you still managed an arch of your spine as Silco pressed his length through your slick folds - not entering you, but ensuring you knew he was ready for you.

“I will never tire of the noises you make for me,” Silco whispered, leaning down to tease the line of your neck with his lips. That was all well and good, but when he paused to suck a mark into your skin, your hips rose of their own accord.

“Silco, please,” you begged, shocked at how quickly your need had risen up after being sated so completely. “Fuck me.”

Silco repositioned himself so he could peer down at you, one brow lifted high. “Such language from a well-known and renowned philanthropist! We expect better manners from the people of Zaun.”

“Silco…” you trailed, trying not to let it turn into a whimper. You weren’t entirely successful.

“I suppose you did say please…” Silco mused.

You nodded, trying to subvocally encourage him to keep going, but he rolled off of you instead. A litany of complaints rose to your lips, but you held them back for one simple reason: he had pulled you with him.

The two of you were lying on your sides, staring at each other in the nest of body-warmed blankets that wreathed Silco’s bed. He pulled you close, then closer, positioning one of your knees up and over his hip. That opened you to him, not quite spreading you wide, but enough that the coolness of the room felt like a shock to your overheated core.

Silco wasted no time, holding you in place with one hand on your hip and the other snaking along your spine until he could cup the nape of your neck. Then his length was spearing up into you and you stopped caring so much about where anyone’s hands were.

He hissed at the feeling of your body’s grip on him, baring his chipped teeth in a silent snarl. When he had sunk as deep as he could get, Silco paused, giving both of you a moment to experience the way your inner muscles were working around him, and the way he was throbbing inside of you.

Rather than employing his driving sprint toward the proverbial finish line, Silco seemed more content than usual to take his time. The lazy push and pull of his hips between your thighs left you surging up and pushing down in time, meeting him at the apex of each stroke. Still, the motion managed to be steady and metered rather than frantic.

And the pace wasn’t the only unusual thing about the experience. No, Silco seemed to be insisting on eye contact. The first time you had looked away, unable to bear the directness of his gaze locked on yours, Silco’s hand had traveled from your neck to your chin. After he had levered you back into looking at him, he gritted out, “Eyes on me, pet.”

The rumors around the Undercity were that Silco’s orange iris was a result of getting an acid or toxin in his eye. You had always chalked that up to ridiculous superstition, egged on by Silco’s employees as an easy way of increasing his credibility among potential challengers.

But just then, you felt like that eye was eating into your very soul. It didn’t seem so impossible, not when you were locked in Silco’s embrace with the orange fire of his ruined eye casting the only light in the room. As soon as you had seen that startling glow set against the backdrop of his darkened room, you couldn’t have looked away even if he would have let you.

Silco stared at you for the remainder of your session. He watched as he thrust deeply into you, watched as you made a desperate noise for him, watched as he made a desperate noise in return. His gaze stayed on you as his fingers drifted downward to toy with your clit. Those eyes went half-lidded, heavy with pleasure as you tightened around him, but you could see the way they were still locked on you.

It was impossible to say whether the eye contact was pushing you closer to the edge, but you certainly felt as if your skin was burning with the intensity of it all. Silco’s hand on your hip tightened and loosened, flexing almost as if he was kneading your skin. You flexed under his touch, your leg drawing further up along his side.

And then he pushed inside of you again. The new placement of your knee left Silco driving into that incredibly sensitive place in your core. If the look on his face - intrigued, eager, and self-satisfied - was any indication, Silco knew exactly what was happening. A few more pumps inside of you and a shaky circle traced around your clit and you were left gasping as another orgasm slammed you into space.

Shaking, pleading, struggling for air… yet you had no trouble keeping your eyes locked on Silco’s face. His mismatched eyes became an anchor for you, the only thing that helped you keep your balance in the overwhelming tide of pleasure.

As far as you could remember, you had never orgasmed while holding eye contact with someone. At least, not in a way that even approached this level of intensity. It felt like Silco was drinking you in with the way his gaze was fixed on you. Even when he withdrew and spilled into the pajama pants he had left lying nearby, his attention was utterly focused on you.

You made some kind of noise as Silco settled on his side next to you. It was one of surprise, but you tried to play it off as if you had started to say something. Even then, it seemed like a bad idea to show any sign of vulnerability to Silco.

“That- That was… incredible,” you admitted eventually.

“I quite agree,” Silco said, resting his head on his pillow. As his natural eye began to close, you turned, intent on leaving him to rest.

To your utter shock, his hand latched around your waist, tugging until you fell backwards. When you were lying with your back to Silco, he moved slightly closer and let out a sigh. “In fact, I’m afraid I must insist that you stay here.”

“...Stay?” you repeated, voice faint in the darkness.

“At least for a short while.”

You cleared your throat, hoping to sound cheerfully nonchalant as you replied, “I was actually counting on you showing me the way out of here. I think I might end up dying in the labyrinth, otherwise.”

“When the sun rises, you may leave,” Silco decreed. His hand - painted deep gray against the blackness of his room - gestured toward a door across from the bed, half-hidden behind a shallow wall. “That door will take you back into my office.”

“Oh.”

Silco seemed to read something in your brief response, and his voice was careful when he said, “Unless you really do not wish to stay.”

Silco was a ruthless murderer. He was a chem baron, one who manufactured Shimmer with the aim to addict an entire city. He was violent and rude, and had been extorting you for the better part of a year. And yet… he sounded so uncertain of himself and his invitation, you couldn’t bear to turn him down.

Instead, you did your best to relax. “I’ll stay. But only until dawn. If I’m out much later than that, the people at the Haven will start to get suspicious.”

“Until dawn, then,” Silco agreed.

In the quiet hush of the darkened room, your wakefulness began to fade. With your interrupted rest and the physical exertion of the evening, sleep was chasing you faster than you could run. Just before you dropped off, you felt something brush the nape of your neck. It could have been one of Silco’s fingertips or it could have been a pair of lips…

Either way, the touch was almost unbearably tender.

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Author's Note - Quick reminder that this story is set between acts 1 and 2 of Arcane. Because of that, Jinx is younger than in the majority of the show, and is still somewhere between Powder and Jinx.

Sorry for posting this a little late! Hope you enjoyed it anyway.

I don't offer a taglist for mature works, but you can find other fics on my masterlists (desktop or mobile).

#good intentions #arcane silco #silco x reader #silco #reader insert #silco x you #silco x reader fic #reader insert fanfiction #mature #lemon #spicy #rating: nc17 #minors dni #not suitable for minors

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final-girl96 · 2 years ago

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My Boyfriend's Back Chapter Twenty-Four

That Night at 9 PM

I was making a stupid decision by meeting Stu but I didn't need him coming into my dorm again. I walked outside and looked around but didn't see anyone. I leaned up against one of the trees, tapping my foot. There were so many different emotions going through me. Anxiety was one of the biggest things happening. But there was also excitement mixed with shame.

Shame that I liked everything that happened the night before. Shame that Stu was right. I do like the chase. I like him chasing me. The fear of him catching me was exhilarating and it excited me in ways I couldn't explain. That was what terrified me more than wondering if he was going to kill me.

When someone pulled up in front of me on a motorcycle that anxiety grew even bigger. Until they took the helmet off and turned towards me, then I was just fucking confused. "Stu?" His hair was blond now and he was on a motorcycle. Fuck, now my panties were fucking soaked. But I was a little nervous too.

Is he going to take me somewhere else to kill me?

"You…uh…you dyed your hair and you have a motorcycle. Where did you get a motorcycle?" He held out another helmet, "put this on and let's go," he said. I just looked at the helmet not moving an inch. And that only irritated him I was guessing because he got off the bike, walked over to me, and slipped the helmet over my head himself. "Get on the fucking bike." He swung his leg over the seat, put his helmet on and waited for me.

This is a bad decision

I slowly approached the bike, swinging my leg over the set and sitting behind him. I could feel his body heat with how close we were. He reached behind him, grabbing my wrist and wrapping my arms around his waist. "You're going to want to hold on tight, baby." I wrapped my arms around his waist tight and he took off down the street.

I have no idea where we were going but at this moment it didn't matter because it felt so good to just let go. To pretend everything was fine and I wasn't willingly on the back of a motorcycle with my psychopath ex-boyfriend. But was he really my ex? My thoughts started going to what if Sindey found out or Randy. What if Dewey found out? They would never speak to me again. Sidney would never be able to look at me again if she found out I was sneaking around with one of the people that killed our mother, our friends, and tried to kill us.

Stu took a hand off of the handlebars and placed it over both of mine. That only made me stiffen up a little bit. Eventually we were driving down a dark road surrounded by woods on either side. The anxiety was back, my guy was telling me this wasn't a good idea, I felt fucking nauseous. His hand tightened around one of my wrists as we approached a cabin. I don't really think you could call it a cabin with how mice it was. His parents definitely paid for it.

When he stopped the bike outside the cabin he put the kickstand down and took his helmet off before getting off the bike. He hung his helmet off the handlebars and came over me, undid my helmet and helped me off the bike. "You have a cabin in Ohio, like an hour away from my college campus… why?" I asked. He smiled, pushing a strand of hair out of my face.

"Can't exactly live in Woodsboro with my parents. Especially since they're going to be selling it or at least try to sell it. And is it a crime to want to be close to my girlfriend? Gotta make sure the killer doesn't hurt you, right?" I backed away from him, "the killer? You mean you? So when did you kill those two students? Before you showed up at my dorm?"

"I didn't kill anyone, baby. I was with you when it happened. I was making you come multiple times. Remember?" Is he trying to gaslight me? "Why'd you bring me here?" I asked. He turned and walked towards the front door. "Come on, it's chilly out here." He opened the door and waited for me. There was no use in running so I may as well go inside.

"So your parents buy this and the bike for you?" I asked, looking around. I was surrounded by his scent and it was making my head fuzzy. "Yeah, of course!" He called from the bedroom just down the hall. He walked out in only sweats and threw a shirt at me. "Go change. I'll make some popcorn and we can watch a movie."

"I'm not staying here, Stu, I have classes tomorrow!" He slowly walked over to me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. "Fucking…change. Or I will change you myself. And trust me, baby, if I do that…you will be completely naked the whole time instead." He kissed me hard and walked into the kitchen. "Oh…and don't worry I'll get you back to campus in time for your eight o'clock Music History class or whatever the fuck it is."

I changed and we watched a movie. I had decided to just go with it. What other choice did I have? "So…that uh…that song you wrote, Final Girl, you ever gonna let me hear it?" I looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. "You go through my stuff?" I asked. He shrugged, "of course I did. You don't tell me anything. Gotta know what you've been up to. I've also loved your singing. But I love the sound of you screaming my name better."

"I'm not having sex with you again, so forget," I said. He moved closer to me and yanked the blanket off of me. "Oh, baby girl, you're gonna do whatever I tell you to do or…" I gasped when he pulled me down to lay on my back and crawled on top of me. "Or I will have Randy be the next victim." He rolled his hips, his hard cock pressing into my clit. "I'd hate to have to do that. So be a good girl for me."

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