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Chapter Text

            You couldn’t remember how you got into this position. How you came to be where you sat now, looking up above you in fright. All previous thoughts had disappeared completely, which included why you were there in the first place. The only thing you could think of now was how tall he was, standing there looming above you.

            His frame was gigantic. Much bigger than you had realized. From a distance, it was easy to overlook his height, but the second he had started to move closer to you, the reality had caused you to shrink back in intimidation. You had tried to pass it off as an illusion based on how tall one of his ears was, but you knew this was false as soon as he was within three feet of you. He was much taller than you had expected in general, and that fact mixed with how he had determinedly walked toward you without stopping caused you to shiver.

             His height, however, was not the true distraction that had caused your mind to originally go blank. What really drew your attention were his eyes. Those silver glowing orbs that seemed to stare directly into your soul. They had been staring at you all week while you sat in that chair, something that would end up becoming a favored memory later whenever you tried to sleep. But now, with him tilting his head downward to seemingly dissect every inch of you, you could feel the heat rising in your face as you looked at them.

            They haunted you. Their piercing stare and alluring gaze. It was enough to make you weak just thinking about them. Though, really, you could have said the same thing about the rest of him in general. For some unexplainable reason, everything about him attracted you. His head, his hands, the way he moved, the way he breathed. This giant animatronic rabbit had pulled you in like a magnet, and this idea both scared you and made you curious.  

            William did not seem fazed by your stunned silence. If anything, his expression denoted more curiosity than anything. His eyes scanned over you; head slightly tilted as though in deep thought. You waited for him to make the first move.

            A creaking sound filled the air as he suddenly decided to start leaning forward. You shrank back in response, your shoulders rising in paranoia over what he could possibly be planning on doing. But no sooner had your mind started racing over the possibilities, did William halt his movement once his face was directly in front of yours. Those eyes were ever so much closer than before now. They were like moons they were so large and inviting. You swallowed, feeling unable to break your gaze with them.

            A few seconds passed of your strange stalemate. You didn’t move and neither did he. Eventually, however, you finally felt brave enough to risk a bit of movement. Hesitantly, you raised your right hand. Would he let you...?

            Ever so slowly did you reach out to place your hand against his nose. At first, you kept your hand flat, just as a test to see what would happen once you made contact. But once you noticed that William was keeping very still despite the pressure, you decided to risk it further and curl your fingers forward so that your entire hand was now softly laid against his snout.

            It was unexpectedly soft. You knew that the animatronics had fur, but you were certain it would feel like the cheap fake variety. He did not feel cheap. Matted, old, and decayed, yes, but cheap? Not in the slightest.

            His head bucked up suddenly. The movement startled you, causing you to remove your hand from his nose quickly and clench your fingers to your palm. But you let the hand hover in place just inches from him, waiting to see his reaction before deciding what to do next.

            “Keep going,” he whispered. You gasped slightly under your breath. You hadn’t expected him to speak. Nor had you expected the encouragement.

            Slowly, you returned your hand to his fur. Your fingers dropped lower and you felt along the edges of his teeth.

            Could he feel this?

            Feeling motivated by his words, you decided to push a little at the edge between his top and bottom teeth. The lower jaw began to shift downward as your hand tentatively slipped into the crack. You paused once your fingers were about an inch in. Was this dangerous?

            You glanced up at his eyes. They were staring down at your hand, watching, waiting. It did not make sense for you to feel reassured by this. It was entirely possible that he was merely waiting for you to fall into a trap where your hand would be severed entirely, but for some reason you felt compelled by his patience to push further.

            Your fingers finally pressed gently into what you imagined to be his cheek. You hadn’t opened the rabbit jaw completely, so you were going off of feel rather than sight, but you were certain your assessment was correct. His skin felt clammy and cold. This made sense to you. He was, after all, a corpse.

            Feeling exploratory, your fingers began to lightly sweep against his face, your mind busy trying to imagine what he looked like based on what you were feeling. However, as soon as your fingers brushed against his lips, something unexpected occurred.

            He kissed them.

            Shocked, your hand suddenly shot backward out of the rabbit jaw and you curled your arm to your chest in fright. The blood was rushing to your face like a burning wildfire and your heart began to pound.

            His head tilted to the side. And the lower eyelids of the animatronic head lifted upward as he did so. You couldn’t see his face, yet the action made you feel as though he were smiling rather cheekily at you.

            Then, he began to lean forward. You watched him like a hawk, feeling justified in your response of wanting to be suspicious, although admittedly you weren’t exactly moving out of his way.

            He leaned until the nose of the rabbit touched yours. His eyes closed as he held the position for a moment, then he leaned back again, opening his eyes to look at you. It felt as though he were trying to reassure you.

            You recognized the feeling within yourself at once that you had ached the moment he pulled away. It was clear what you wanted, even if you couldn’t admit it out loud.

            William began to move again. This time, his hands lifted to gently cup your head. You froze, not wanting to pull away from his touch nor send any kind of message that he should stop what he was doing. His hands were bulky and rough, but the way he held his fingers against you was unexplainably kind. You found yourself leaning into the palm of his right hand, closing your eyes as you did so.

Why was he treating you this way?

            You felt a close presence in front of you. Opening your eyes, you nearly startled again when you realized he had closed the gap between you. His face was mere inches from you now, staring down at you as though waiting for permission. You met his gaze for a moment, still feeling hesitant in your own inability to be vulnerable. But yet again his patience gave you courage. Slowly, you closed your eyes again and leaned forward.

            Your lips met against the rabbit mask’s teeth. You held still, unsure of what to do. After a moment, nothing seemed to happen. It felt awkward, causing you to feel disheartened. How could you know if he felt that, anyway? Was the suit fused with his nervous system in a way that allowed him to feel that? What if you had just kissed an inanimate object? Was this stupid?

            William must have felt your uncertainty. One hand slowly drifted behind your head as the other pulled back to slip the fingers into his own rabbit mask’s jaw. You couldn’t see what he did, but you heard a click before the lower jaw of the mask fell downward against his chest. He winced as it did so, a small grunt coming from the inside of the rabbit head as the jaw connected with the chest plate.

            Your eyes were transfixed by the human within. At least, the part that you could see. His face was terribly discolored, and the sides of his head had pieces of metal striking through the skin. It looked incredibly painful. Far more painful than you had previously imagined it would feel like. His expression was neutral despite your worried thoughts. He appeared to be waiting for your next move.

            You, however, were unsure of what to do. Despite his attempt at easing the next step, you still felt frightened by your own wishes. You were more terrified of losing your inhibitions than of the possibility of being mercilessly slaughtered by the man in front of you. The contradictory thoughts waged war in your mind. 

            “Do you want this?” he asked quietly. The fact that he had to ask at all felt embarrassing. And you must have been silent a long while for him to break the silence. But you were grateful that he asked regardless. It brought you back to reality, at the very least.

            “I-I…” you started to say. Tears began to well up in your eyes. Why was it so hard to just say yes?

            You were taking too long to answer. Your hesitance was sending a message you didn’t mean to send. Slowly, William removed his hand from the back of your head, and he sighed. A frown appeared on his face, and he lifted his other hand to close the jaw on the rabbit mask. He started to stand and turn, and that’s when you finally jumped forward to stop him.

            “W-wait!” you cried out, scrambling to stand up and grab his forearms. “Wait…” You looked up at his face, not even bothering to hide your panicked expression. “Yes. Yes, I want this. Please don’t go.”

            He stared down at you, waiting for enough time to pass to assure your seriousness. Once satisfied, he silently turned and leaned down until he was face to face with you once more. This time, however, he did not raise a hand to touch you. It was clear that it was your move next or nothing at all.

            Spurned into moving quickly by your paranoia of regret, you raised both of your hands to cradle the rabbit head. Unable to meet his eye, you stared at the rabbit’s teeth.

            “I’m sorry,” you said. “This is hard for me.”

            He nodded.

            “I want it,” you added. “I do.”

            He continued to stare at you for another moment, then he lifted his hands to remove yours from his head. Then, once again, he lowered the rabbit’s bottom jaw, and he placed his hands at his side, waiting.

            Prove it.

            It was difficult. But it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, you raised your hands to tentatively place them against the tops of his shoulders. You leaned forward, tilting your face to avoid the top section of the rabbit mask. Your heart was beating wildly as you forced yourself to face your fear.

            His lips were thin as you pressed yours against them. You could almost feel the outline of his teeth below the skin. But putting aside the reality of his undead existence, the feeling of putting your lips against his was like running warm water over your frozen scared heart. The relief that washed over you when you connected with him was immediate, and the sensation that followed was nothing short of enamored.

            You held still against his lips for a long moment, wanting to savor the feeling. You tried to listen for any kind of sound as you stayed locked together. Now that you were this close to him, you could hear his ragged breathing. It sounded like each breath was a strain, though his body posture did not reflect any struggle. Briefly you wondered if you should have concern of his health if you were to… push further… but this thought was quickly disregarded once you remembered how fast he would move throughout the halls previously in the week.

            Now feeling more comfortable, you lifted your hands from his shoulders to reach into the rabbit’s jaws and touch the sides of his head as best that you could. The metal piercing his skin made it so that you could not properly cradle his skull, but you were still able to interlock your fingers around his face in a loving manner. Once your hands had found a good resting place, you decided to test the waters and shifted your head, causing your lips to move against his. William seemed pleased with this action. So pleased, in fact, that he hurriedly wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer. Apparently, he had been holding back until you had proven your interest. Clearly, you had proven it well enough. He forced you to press into him, and the sudden intimate contact caused you to open your mouth to him.

            Your heart skipped when he responded similarly, your ears picking up a miniscule grunt escaping him when he did so. The sound caused you to smile, though you refused to pull away from him in the process.

            Feeling a bit more daring, you decided to tease him with your tongue, though barely. It was a quick dart of a movement, hardly noticeable. The cheekiness of it made you smile again. However, your smile disappeared into surprise when William responded by squeezing your ribs tighter and urging his tongue full force into your mouth. This time, it was your turn to unexpectedly squeak and you could feel a blush rushing to your face as he let out a small chortle.

            Head pulling away quickly, you released from his lips. You stayed close enough to not send a message of disinterest, but it was clear his sudden increase in passion had startled you. This feeling passed almost immediately, however, especially as soon as you noticed that he was grinning. His expression of mischievous glee caused your lips to purse before they spread back into a warm smile.

            He was playing.

            Giggling slightly, you closed your eyes again and returned your mouth to his. Perhaps it was his gentle way of caring, or perhaps it was his patience, but regardless of the true reason, you could feel yourself getting calmer. Something about the way he smiled just then relieved any previous fears you had had. You trusted him now. He had proven that he cared.

            William took this opportunity to push you backward. Staying connected both by lips and his arms, you let yourself be guided toward the wall until you were completely flat against the surface. He pressed into you. Not enough to feel crushed, but just enough for you to feel trapped. Curiously, the pressure did not cause you to fear being cornered. On the contrary, you wanted him to be this close to you. You had no intention of backing out now.

            Your shared kiss began to escalate. While before it had been sweet pecks with the occasional intermixed tongue swipes, now it was forming into a fevered chase of who could move faster. In addition, you were starting to feel his hands explore further down your back. This sensation caused your body to curl forward, unintentionally brushing up against his pelvis. A deep hearty groan escaped him, then. Followed by a rapid motion of his fingers grabbing your ass. The action made your heart leap as well as making you curious about where your own hands could potentially go on him.

            Letting your fingers drop from the sides of his face, you drifted your hands down across his chest plate and reached sideways. You were careful not to dip your fingers inside the holes of the suit as you did so. You weren’t exactly sure what would hurt him versus cause him pleasure. What was a good touch for him and what was a painful one?

            Figuring you could try and pay attention to his responses as you explored, your hands slipped to his back. Your first instinct was to hug him, though this action did not match the intensity of what your mouths were doing. You broke the hug quickly, choosing instead to be daring once more. The tension was obviously building, he had just gripped your ass, and the way his tongue was sliding across yours was exciting. You wanted to reply to his fervor with an equal if not higher amount.

            Hesitating only once, you mentally braced for the unknown as you slid your hands down past his back to the lower torso section of the rabbit suit. You hadn’t yet dared to reach around to the front, but you were happy to pause on his backside anyway, wishing to share how it had made you feel when he had done the same to you.

            Your thoughts saddened, however, when you realized you still weren’t sure if he could feel what you were doing. He hadn’t seemed to react directly to your hand movements, he seemed to be busily pushing his lips as far as they could go into yours. What could you do to truly test if the suit had fused enough with his system to cause a touch sensation without asking him directly?

            Your fingers twitched, seemingly knowing what had to be done. With a sharp intake of breath, you risked the most daring move of all for you so far, which was hastily sliding one hand to the front of the rabbit suit’s groin.

            His reaction was immediate. Your cupped hand pressed against the area had caused him to open his mouth and pull back, just enough to let out a strong moan that appeared to have momentarily blinded his senses. You weren’t sure if this was proof that he could indeed feel the suit, or if this was purely a response to feeling the warmth of your hand from the inside, but either way, he clearly had reacted well.

            Just as you were allowing yourself to feel a bit of pride over what you’d done, William interrupted your thoughts with a fierce return to awareness. His fingers dug into you tighter, his body pressed you further into the wall, and he thrusted into your hand, all the meanwhile practically growling as he attacked your mouth again. This time, however, his lips didn’t stay. They began to travel down the side of your face in a frenzied manner, his kisses dotting a line to your neck. A contented sigh breathed out of you as you tilted your head to the side in order to help him reach you easier. Once he had arrived in the middle, his kisses became harsher, until finally he seemed to be unable to stop himself from biting into your skin. The feeling caused you to gasp lightly and little shivers of pleasure rippled down your stomach. To let him know that you enjoyed what he was doing, you began to rub your hand against him, hoping against all hopes that he would be able to feel it.

            He must have, for little noises erupted from him as he continued to go back and forth between kissing and biting your neck, his bites varying between sweet and rough. A few times he pushed himself into your hand, the movements bringing a delighted smile to your face. It was clear that he was enjoying himself, and you were glad for it.

            Eventually, the teasing was too much for him, however. With a hissed growl, William suddenly crouched his legs in order to sweep you up off of the floor. Your eyes widened in surprise as you were lifted into the air. Instinctively, your legs moved to wrap around him, and your hands flew up to hold onto his neck.

            There was only one place to go in that room: the desk. He sat you down on the edge of it, your hands automatically reaching behind you to move any items that were in your way. You did this blindly, not wanting to leave your lover’s gaze in front of you. William stepped forward and closed the gap between you, his hands pulling fervently against your hips to bring you into his crotch. For some reason, being in this position, clothed, while intimately sharing contact, caused you to blush. You stared up at him meekly, suddenly unsure of what to do next.

            He seemed to sense your fear. Despite his obvious interest in pursuing you further, William paused, lifting his hands to cup your head instead of your hips. He did not leave the closed space between your legs, but he did look straight into your eyes with an expression that suggested that this was his way of asking for consent.

            You hesitated, recognizing that this was another chance to back out if that was what you wanted. You stared at him for a long moment, your shoulders starting to shake in trepidation.

            Then, you nodded. Slowly, at first, but then firmly. To further cement the approval, you raised your hands to curl around his.

            “Yes,” you whispered. “Please.”

            He nodded, then began to lean in toward your throat while his hands released from your head. Carefully, he greeted the neckline of your shirt with his lips, kissing the skin there softly. You smiled from the gentleness of it, your hands instinctively reaching up to cradle the rabbit head as you looked down at him.

            His lips began to trail down the front of your chest. You leaned backward to help him reach you easier, unfortunately needing to let go of his head in order to do so. Then, suddenly, there was the feeling of your shirt being lifted. His fingers had curled under the fabric without you noticing and admittedly, the feeling caused you to jump. But you didn’t stop him, instead willing him go further. Soon, your shirt had been lifted entirely over your head, and your bare chest was now before him. You watched as he took a moment to gaze at you, your mind rather astonished that you weren’t feeling more embarrassed about the situation. But then you bit your lip and forgot all about being potentially shy as his head began to lower.

            You could have cried when his mouth connected with your skin. His earlier kisses against your neck and lips had been lovely, of course, but something about this contact felt different. It felt raw, it felt instinctual. It felt as though you were now connecting with him on an animalistic level. The feeling was powerful, and your head fell back against the desk over it. Swiftly your hands grabbed at his head, urging him, pleading him, to keep going. You had never felt this way before.

            He delivered well. His tongue playfully gliding against you, his mouth going back and forth between kissing, licking, and even the occasional sucking. You couldn’t help but let out a few pleasured sounds, your fingers curling around the rabbit ears in delight. His face began to travel across your torso slowly, practically eating you up the entire way with his mouth. Your legs curled up, unintentionally pulling him tighter into you.

            Once again, the increased pressure of his crotch caused him to grunt, and this time he raised his head up in response. Sensing something different about this reaction, you lifted your head to meet his eyes. They were staring at you hungrily. The expression seemed intimidating, almost threatening. But the devilish smirk on his face betrayed his puckish intent. Just as you were considering asking him what he was thinking, a metal hand shot up to fiercely grip between your legs. You gasped, jumping slightly as you realized what he was doing. But he refused to give you a chance to catch up. Instead, his fingers began to dance against you, pressing with individual force upwards in an attempt to make you squirm. It was working, and soon you were whimpering, too embarrassed to look at his face. You closed your eyes immediately, turning your head to the side and putting a hand up to cover your mouth.

            William reached with his other hand to pull your fingers away from hiding. He took hold of your chin and turned your head to look at him. But instead of forcing you to watch, he rather pushed his own head forward, deciding to allow you to continue “hiding”, but through being blocked by his own face. His lips pressed against yours sweetly, as though urging you to enjoy the moment freely, without fear.

            Tears welled up in your eyes. The gesture was too kind for you to bear. Your trembling hands reached out to tenderly grasp what you could of his head inside the rabbit’s jaws and you let the tears fall without stopping them. You were grateful that the tears were silent.

            His hand continued to rub against you, before slowly it inched further upward to curl around the fabric of your pants. It stayed still there, and, at the same time, he stopped his lips from moving. His entire body paused, his fingers just barely beneath the pant fabric.

            You held still a moment. A feeling in your stomach caused a chill to run through you as you waited. This time, your hesitation did not come from considering stopping him, but rather from a momentary acknowledgement of the shared moment between you both. A pause to rest before more action.

            You decided to encourage him silently by releasing your hands from his face in order to let them glide downward to your pants. You kept your eyes closed, hovering your mouth near his as you pushed your hands past his hand in order to undo the button and zipper from your own pants. Once they were opened, you took hold of his hand and guided it into place, pushing slightly in order to force his fingers to dip below the fabric of your underwear line. Then, you returned your hands to their previous placement, momentarily drawing a few circles into his skin before sucking in a bit of air.

            William’s fingers began to push downward, crawling towards the bottom of your pelvis. Your stomach flipped wildly, butterflies fluttering as you felt him inch closer. You held back a whimper that seemed desperate to escape, your legs beginning to sub-consciously bend upward in response.

            And then… what bliss! Your head rolled backward to hit the desk once again and you swore you could practically hear the dumb smile on his face. Oh, the feeling! His fingers massaged against you in ways that caused your back to curl upward. His head laid down sideways against your chest, then, forcing you to remove your hands from him. He was letting you fully embrace the moment as your own.

            Your teeth met your bottom lip as you resisted yet another cry. You had no idea someone could make you feel this way with such seemingly simple movements. Either he had skill, or you were easy to please. Either way, you enjoyed it.

            What came next was unexpected to you. Without much warning, William suddenly curled a finger and shot upward, entering your opening.  You gasped, startling forward and gripping your hands onto the rabbit head. His finger slowly kept pushing deeper, and this action caused you to shudder in pleasure. William lifted his head after that, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes and a genuine smile. He looked pleased. Perhaps he was glad that you were enjoying his work.

            You couldn’t handle him looking at you like that, however. You were overwhelmed with what he was doing to you. Moving your hands quickly, you pulled his face forward and kissed his lips. William returned the favor; all the while continuing to push and pull his finger inside of you.

            Gripping his skin tightly, you noticed how your breathing was quickening. But it was also at this time that you realized how much of the work he was doing held hardly any reward for himself. This bothered you, and so despite the immeasurable waves of pleasure now flowing from your nether region, you managed to pull one hand away from his face to blindly grasp for the edge of his groin. If he noticed what you were doing, he didn’t say anything, too busy pleasuring you with his hand and lips.

            Your fingers swept across the edge of the rabbit suit, vaguely wondering how dangerous it was to plunge your hand inside of it.  How would you even know what you were reaching for? Would the metal parts of him block you from getting to him? What if you hurt him?

            Deciding to play it safe, you shifted your hand to the front of the suit and began to rub your palm against him. He had obviously reacted before to this gesture, so you hoped that your intention would be clear yet again with this action.

            You could feel his lips curl into a smile against your own. You weren’t sure if the smile was from pleasure or laughter at your attempt to match his passion, but regardless, he seemed to like it. His free hand reached up to cradle the back of your head and he forced you forward until you were sitting up. He released his mouth from you and backed away at the same time as pulling his finger out from your underwear. The sudden lack of filled space within you caused you to flinch.

           Staring up at him, you watched as he gazed down at you in what you could only be described as a loving expression. It was tender, and thoughtful. The sight almost made you want to melt. But after a moment or two of getting lost in his eyes, you were suddenly aware of the fact that your hand, the one that had been previously vigorously rubbing against him, was now awkwardly hovering over his crotch, waiting. Your line of sight lowered to glance down at his stomach. Quietly, you reached out to delicately place your fingers at the edge of the suit’s lower torso. You let them curl on that edge, just barely sliding your palm against the flat of him as you did so. Your eyes flickered back up to meet his own. You hoped that your touch mixed with your expression was enough to make him understand what you were asking.

            William did not move right away. He seemed busy analyzing your movements. Even his head tilted when you experimentally pushed your fingers slightly further into the suit. Was he waiting for you to go further? Or was he unsure himself of what that area of his body was like after fusing with the suit? Suddenly you wondered if it was possible that there was more to his body that had been lost than you realized.

            But no sooner had you thought this, did his hands reach down to move yours out of the way. Patiently, you watched him as he skillfully clicked and switched various minor parts of the suit. You weren’t even sure what exactly he did to release the mechanism. Soon, however, the plating covering his underside fell away and he let it drop to the floor without care. You couldn’t help but stare. Perhaps it was because of the fact that the lower torso of the suit did not have much deterioration compared to the edge of it, but surprisingly his body within the cage seemed fairly intact. Discolored, yes, and strangely sickly looking if you were being completely honest, but full and useable, at least compared to the rest of him.

            Your thoughts were interrupted as he lowered his hands to pull down on your underwear and pants. You hesitated at first, aware then of the final step of exposing yourself to him. He waited patiently as your thoughts flooded with various reasons to stop yourself from making this choice. However, the concern must have shown on your face, because he lifted one hand to your chin and tilted your head up to shake your thoughts. His eyes looked so incredibly assuring in that moment. You knew there was no way you wanted to stop now.

            Your face must have expressed this choice, because William stepped forward then, moving his hands to slide in between your arms. He gripped your backside to pull you toward him and the cold contact with his skin was thrilling. You experimentally tried to rock against him, though it was difficult in this position. He must have felt the same instinct, for his legs bent forward in an attempt to do the same.

            “Mmmm…” he breathed as he leaned in to pull you closer with his hands. His head pushed forward to connect with your lips and he sighed into you, pushing the flat of his cock against the outside of your vagina. “Let me take you…”

            The pressure was nearly too much. You sharply inhaled against his mouth and a shiver ran through your shoulders. “Yes…” you whispered into his lips. “Will, please…”

            One of his metal hands reached down to grip himself before pointing its head at your opening. In seconds, you were shuddering as he pushed himself in and both of you shared an inhale of breath as he continued to slide as deep as he could go. Your mouth hung open in paralyzed emotion as William began to slowly pull himself back and forth. The insides of your walls seemed to pulse with pleasure against his form.

            “G-god,” you said aloud, your arms wrapping up around his neck as you buried your head into his throat. “T-take me.”

            “Aheh…”

            His movements increased in speed. Moving his hands to the sides of your hips, William began to thrust into you with passionate rhythm. He grunted as he did so, the fervor of his motions getting the best of him. Meanwhile, you were overwhelmed with feeling. Your head had lazily drooped against him, your mind trying desperately to process the incredible burst of intensity that was flowing from where he was connected with you. You began to let out little noises of pleasure, your hands gripping his shoulders.

            “That’s it, enjoy it,” he said, encouraging your display of allowing the feeling to overcome you.

            William butted his head against yours to force your face to look up at him. His mouth shot forward to kiss you intensely. The action caused you to bite his lip, though it was loving.

            His hands pushed your hips down, then, causing the angle of his thrusts to shift. The change in direction caused you to gasp and instinctively your arms wrapped around his middle, your fingers scrambling for anywhere on his back that would let you grip.

            It was at this point that William’s thrusts escalated even more. His plunges were fierce, and the feeling sent stars to your mind. His back curled forward and his actions felt almost desperate to touch every part of you. To explore every piece of you, every inch. He was like an animal blinded by passion, each thrust becoming more and more violent with time. The intense emotion was too much for either of you to stay connected by kiss. Each of you let your mouths gape open in heavy breathing, both trying to concentrate on the building pressure within. Your nails dug into him then, clawing deep into the fabric of the back of the suit. William responded to this by grunting painfully, his teeth gritting against the sharp scratch. Had you been able to properly focus, you might have realized that this moment was final proof that he had indeed been able to feel every touch that you had given him before on the suit.

            The pressure was nearly about to explode. Your face was buried into his shoulder, sweat forming on the back of your neck. Your fingers were still clutching his back in desperation and William’s thrusts were not showing any signs of stopping.

            “Will—!” you blurted suddenly, unable to contain yourself. You could hear his haggard breaths in your ear as he clung to you. Then, suddenly, the pressure shifted, and it was all you could do not to scream. The throbbing within you climbed until it burst, and your arms squeezed against him as the feeling of his thrusts sent you over the edge.

            William let out a small laugh in response, clearly pleased that he had successfully gotten you off. Though his humor left quickly when suddenly he himself was starting to build to eruption. His teeth grit again, and little growls of anger hissed out from him as he pounded against you. His arms gripped tighter around you, almost crushing you, then he shuddered when one particularly deep thrust caused him to release.

            He collapsed against you, then, your body falling backward to land on the desk. You had enough awareness to not let your head bang against the metal, but it wouldn’t have bothered you if it had. You were far too caught up in the moment to care about anything else.

            Both of you were breathing harshly, as though there weren’t enough oxygen in the air to fill your lungs. Mindlessly, you brought your hands up to rest them against the rabbit head. Vaguely you wondered if perhaps you had permanently left scars down the back of the suit from your nails, though even if you had, you were sure it would not look out of place compared to the rest of him.

            William lay exhausted on top you, his head resting to the side and his entire chest inhaling and exhaling as best he could. You closed your eyes, wanting to take in the feeling of still being connected to him. Even without moving, the feeling of him filling your space was perfect.

            Finally, with one sharp inhale, William raised his head and shifted himself to sit up onto his elbows. Sighing, he pulled himself out of you before gazing down at you in contentment. A smile spread across his lips, an expression you matched back at him. A warm feeling spread through you then, flowing upwards throughout your entire body.

            You lifted your hands to pull at his face, forcing him to come closer. Your lips sweetly left him a single kiss before you whispered to him.

            “I love you.”

            If your eyes hadn’t been closed, you would have seen his smile spread into a grin. But there was no need to see this gesture. You could feel it, especially when his arms swept under you to embrace you tightly against the desk. He returned the single kiss before burying his head into the side of your face.

            “And I with you,” he whispered.

            You both stayed embraced for hours.

Chapter Text

            “What was it like?”

            You had returned. A single night’s passing between where you were now versus then. The time had passed slowly, your body having ached to be back in his presence, back in his arms. The wait had been agony. But you were here now, the previous night’s fantasy still fresh in your mind, the feeling of it still lingering in the air between you both.

            Though, perhaps the memory only felt fresh because of what you both were doing currently. It did, after all, feel very similar to last night’s event, although neither of you were in the throes of anything heated. In fact, the action was far gentler than that. William had you pinned to the desk, your back lying flat against the metal piece of furniture with your legs spread to let him stand between them. You were fully clothed, your hands drooped lazily against the nape of his neck, and your head leaned to the side. His face was buried into the crook of your neck, leaving little marks of love and sweetness against your skin with his lips.

            It was the same spot as before. The same place that he had taken you completely. But despite the warmth growing in your stomach at the idea of him doing it again, your mind was far too busy enjoying this small moment of togetherness to rush anything further. He was pressed so firmly against you, his face so very close to yours. The fact that he had sunk his head as close as he could get into your neck at all was so very sweet. You couldn’t help but let yourself smile as he continued to trail his mouth between your ear and collarbone, his kisses turning dangerously close to hickies. The feeling of his skin against yours was intoxicating enough, let alone his lips. What had you done to deserve this?

            William… Your thoughts floated to the man before you. What a mystery he was. Despite having opened yourself up to him the night before, you really didn’t know that much about him. Then again, he didn’t know very much about you either. Was it normal to start a relationship in passion like this before learning practically anything about each other? On the other hand, was this even a relationship at all? Perhaps it was purely a temporary exploration of bodies. What exactly were you to each other?

            Your fingertips danced against the back of his neck, thinking. His skin was smooth, somewhat cool to the touch. You were surprised to notice that it felt relatively normal compared to what you knew had happened to him. Looks-wise it was terrible, of course, but the physical feeling of the skin on his neck was no different than your own. Did it feel the same to him? Come to think of it, what did his body feel like to him in general now? Clearly, he had to feel something, or else your previous lover’s exchange would not have worked him up so much. But how much of his body could he really feel now? Were his senses reduced to nothing more than an energetic pulse? Had your touches thus far been nothing more than a faded version of the real thing? What kind of anguish would it be to only have the memory of senses, rather than the full amount?

            You trailed your hands forward to lightly scrape against the metal bars coming from his cheeks. A question entered your mind, then. One that you had wondered for a while, but never thought it appropriate to ask until now. The question itself was not an offensive one, but it had seemed to you to be too personal until now.

            You said the question out loud, tracing your fingers along the metal bars with fragility. William didn’t seem to react at first, too busy cradling both your hip and your head at the same time and gently massaging little lines into you with his fingers. His hands were rough and solid, but the gestures were kind. Eventually, he removed his lips from your skin just enough to clarify what you had said.

            “What was what like?”

            His mouth returned to your ear and he softly bit his teeth against it, teething it slightly before trailing back down to your neck once more.

            “Behind the wall,” you said quietly, your eyes scanning across to the far corner of the room to look at the posters there. Mindlessly, your left hand traveled up to drag a finger across the tips of the rabbit mask’s top teeth. Would it offend him that you had asked?

            His sweet gestures ceased, both his hands and his lips pausing. He didn’t move and he didn’t speak either, seemingly contemplating the question.

            “Hmm,” he murmured. You turned your head to try and look at him as he thought. Your movement caused him to lift his head, tilting it so that he could eye you sideways with an analytical eye. A smirk appeared on his face, then. It read playful, but it also felt dangerous. “Awfully curious, aren’t we?” he purred after a moment.

            “So is your mouth,” you blurted without thinking, staring at him blankly. His expression snapped in response, his eyes narrowing angrily and his mouth arching into half of a scowl. Instantly, regret began to pool into your stomach. You watched as an unexplainable shift occurred in his posture that caused your eyes to widen in fear. For a brief moment, you were reminded of exactly what kind of creature was actually holding you down there on that desk. In an instant, he was terrifying to you.

            And he had not liked your joke at all.

            Quickly, you tore your hands away from his face and pressed them flat against his chest in panic.

            “I-I’m sorry!” you stammered in a rush, hoping your words would settle his obvious insult. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I really loved what you were doing. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

            His eyes stayed slivered for a few more seconds before returning to their normal gaze. You couldn’t help but feel as though you had just been close to never speaking to him again (Or possibly ever seen again by anyone, for that matter). Your assumption the entire time had been not to consider this affair long-lasting, but it still hurt to think that something as simple as a single sarcastic sentence could end things so suddenly. Was your connection with William that easy to break?

            “What did it feel like for you?” he spat suddenly, his tone filled with hate and his eyes staring at you like an owl cornering a mouse. The question and sound of his voice felt out of the blue. You weren’t sure how to respond at first. And the way he was looking at you was unnerving.

            “W-when?” you asked eventually, your heartbeat starting to rise in rhythm. Your entire body felt paralyzed by his commanding presence.

            “When you were touched by a god.”

            His eyes went wide, staring into yours as though he could see straight into your soul. He leaned in closer, his moon-like gaze maddening. His fingers had gripped you tightly when he had said the word “god” and it was this action that finally caused you to swallow in fear.

            Tears welled up in your eyes, then. It was clear now that what he was doing was putting you in your place. And admittedly, the treatment made your heart shrink. You had been so open with him, so vulnerable. Was your shared intimacy to be ruined by one accidental slip of the tongue?

            You didn’t answer him. Lines of tears began to run down your face, and you turned away to stare at the wall. You felt saddened, wishing to go back to the way things had been before, when he had been sweet.

            A long minute passed. He stayed frozen, watching you cry for a while, perhaps to solidify his metaphorical thumb over you.

            Finally, you spoke up.

            “Why mock me about that when you knew it was hard for me?” you asked.

            No response. You shifted your head to look at him. He stared back at you, unmoving. The line of his mouth was neutral, his eyes betraying no emotion. You hoped his expression was one of contemplation, not uncaring, but there was no way to truly know. You decided to continue talking.

            “Were you not the one to encourage me in the first place?” you choked. “Were all those things you did to me out of love or control?”

            He shifted, then, his shoulders lifting slightly at the questions. His lips pursed together as he stared. This time, he really did look as though he were contemplating your words. He clicked his teeth a few times, then sighed. His threatening display dropped, and his eyes turned benevolent.

            “I apologize,” he said. “I do not like being teased.”

            Your body relaxed at his words.

            “I’m sorry for teasing you in the first place,” you responded. “I’ll try not to going forward.”

            He nodded, his eyes closing briefly as he did so. You took this as a sign that the moment of accidental insult had officially passed. He hadn’t answered your question regarding control, but you didn’t bother to press him further on it. The explanation for his outburst was enough for now.

            William’s moment of threat from before lingered in your mind, however. It had shocked you to the core. You had completely forgotten the true terror of what he really was, what he normally did to people. The capability within him was obviously powerful, he could snap your neck at any time, let alone do anything else equally violent. Hell, was it possible he was only playing with you now until he got bored? What would happen once he was done with you?

            “It is difficult to describe what I felt behind the wall,” he said suddenly, breaking your thoughts. You perked up, not expecting him to actually speak on the subject. Given what your mind had just been trailing to, though, William’s sudden vulnerability seemed like a good sign. Perhaps he wouldn’t be as bored of you as you had feared. “I was… dormant. For a lot of it. Going in and out of consciousness throughout the years.”

            You stayed silent, listening. You could feel how important it was to pay attention to him. Not that you weren’t genuinely interested anyway.

            “But I was not dormant for all of it,” he continued. “The first few months were the worst. I do not have words for that kind of pain. I would trade going through the spring lock failure over again compared to what came after. Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to be eaten slowly alive by insects, all the while being unable to move? Have you ever tried to sleep through a cold winter night, unable to stop your body from automatically trembling, which causes all of the metal bars pierced through your body to re-open the wounds and rattle your pain nerves? The initial system failure was quick in comparison. The rest is a torture I cannot describe well enough. It is an existence of unimaginable torment. I could not move. I could do nothing but lie there and feel every moment of pain. Every excruciating detail. Every gnat, every fly, every shiver of torture.”

            You were stunned as he described the event. The experience sounded awful as it was before but hearing about it directly from him made you nearly sick.

            “H-How are you alive?” you couldn’t help asking, feeling breathless from his words. His eyes narrowed, a delicious grin spreading across his face.

            “Because I was right,” he declared darkly. You could practically feel the heat from the fire in his voice as he said it. He was heavily self-assured in whatever it was he was talking about. You watched his eyes float away from you, then, gazing into the distance at some far-away thought. You were unclear on what exactly he had been right about, but you could tell he felt it deeply based on his expression. His eyes had furrowed into a concentrated glare and his entire body was frozen, as though stuck in a spiraling loop of endless thoughts.

            Your initial instinct was to let him be for a moment. But eventually, you didn’t wish for him to be lost forever.

            “A god is always right,” you offered after a long pause. He blinked, shaken from his thoughts to look down at you. You stared at him silently, watching him tilt his head curiously to the side. His gaze once again turned analytical. You were starting to find it interesting anytime he did that.

            Slowly, William began to lean forward. You didn’t move, paralyzed from your fascination of whatever he was about to do. He lowered his face to yours, dipping his head ever so slightly to brush his lips against yours. With the softest of touches, he lightly pressed them against yours, a single kiss of velvet delight.

            “Yes…” he breathed steadily into you, drawing out the word as though it brought him pleasure just by speaking it. Your lips spread into a smile, now understanding what had just occurred in his mind. Then, an idea came to you. Were you bold enough to try it? You raised your hands delicately to place them in between the metal bars in his cheeks and you pulled him into a longer kiss.

            “Do you know how much I fear you?” you whispered in between his lips. You could have sworn the long rabbit ear twitched in response. “I fear you profoundly.”

            You almost missed it, but William shivered. It was barely a movement at all, a whisper of a reaction, but it had occurred. He lowered from his palms to his elbows to try and hide it, but you had felt it, you knew he had reacted to your words. And now, he was paused, lips hovering above yours, waiting. You looked up to notice that his eyes were closed. Had you unlocked something?

            “I grow frightened just looking at you,” you continued, still whispering. Your hands lowered from cupping his face to lightly placing them against the top edge of the rabbit suit’s chest plate. “I fear what you are capable of. I fear you.”

            A noise erupted from him, then. A small throaty grumble, not quite a moan, not quite a grunt. His body shifted in place, his hands curling underneath you to clutch your shoulders from the backside.

            You had him perfectly in your grasp, now. You could feel the importance of this moment. It was now or never if you wished to act. You moved your hands upward to pull down on the back of his neck and forced him toward you. Shifting your face to the side, you made sure your mouth was right in front of his ear when you spoke next.

            “I can feel how easy it would be for you to kill me.”

            You startled when he suddenly shot backward. His hands yanked out from beneath you and he instead flipped them over to slam your shoulders downward into the desk. You gasped, not from pain, but from surprise, as he then fiercely shoved himself forward to attack your lips. He didn’t even bother trying to hide his fervor. Even his groin had thrusted into you, a fact that caused your face to flush from the unexpectedness of it. His teeth bit into you afterwards, your bottom lip being claimed as his. The action caused you to feel frozen at first, like a deer having just been jumped by a wolf. But once the feeling had passed, you nervously laughed.

           Was he really this worked up over a bit of ego boosting?

           Apparently so. His body couldn’t stop moving, his hands going back and forth between squeezing your shoulders and traveling up and down your head and neck. The intensity was heavily welcomed by you, however, especially after what had been arguably a tough conversation just before this.

            Did this mean that you were closer to him now?

            Another slam of his hands knocked your thoughts clear. You looked up to see him growling down at you, his teeth clenched, and his eyes crazed. His face was caught in a ferocious snarl and his breathing had changed to one of lust. You had never seen him look so wild. The sight made you suck in air. But you knew his reaction was not coming from a place of harmful intent. You could certainly call him a hunter, but what he sought was not torture. At least, not that you could tell.

            You decided to try and push him further. You slid your hands up against his sides and guided them to his back before slipping down to grip him from behind. You pulled him forward at the same time as rocking your hips upward, purposefully letting out an exaggerated moan. 

            He growled in response, lunging his head downward to tear into your throat with his teeth. You gasped at his savage nip, biting your own lip in ecstasy over it. He pressed himself fully downward on top of you, then, the increased contact causing you to raise your knees up instinctively. Your breathing hitched, and a crawling itch of desire began to climb through you. The feeling made you arch your back. Suddenly, the contact of his crotch against your own was starting to awaken something within you. Not, of course, that it hadn’t been there all along. But William’s quickly rising fervor was coaxing yours to do the same. It was nearly impossible not to beg for his mercy at not taking you fast enough.

            “My god…” you breathed into his ear in a heightened tone. Your chest started to rise and fall faster, your skin crawling with goosebumps at his slightest touch. Your hands flew up to his back and your nails began to drag into him, as though preparing for what you assumed, or at least wished, he might do next.

            An unexpected reaction came next, however. William pulled away from your neck and stared down at you like a flared serpent. You could still sense the wildness in his energy, but his predatory stance felt unusual. Almost as though he were purposefully keeping both of you in a trapped state of longing, just to further the torture for both of you.

            “I could make you beg,” he boasted in a devilish tone. You blushed immediately, the control in his voice being too much for you. You didn’t know how to respond, but you didn’t have to. William snaked his hand downward to pull at your pants fabric without waiting for a response from you. It was evident that he was going to do as he pleased without input.

            You were glad for it, though. Quickly, you clawed your hands down to help him free your bottom clothing. Together you yanked the fabric off, including the underwear underneath.

            He assaulted your lips once more with his, at the same time shoving his hand down to press in between your legs. The intensity of the contact caused you to jump, your hands scrambling to cling against the rabbit suit’s chest plate. You gasped as his fingers moved swiftly against you, curling and bending upwards in weaving motions. It was all you could do to squirm underneath him. The previous night’s interaction had been gentler, with a slower increase to finality. This time, William seemed pushier, his actions being rougher and more erratic.

            You were enjoying it. Almost too much. A strange thing to feel considering how embarrassed you had been the night before. Did it really only require one time of opening up to feel comfortable rushing in like this? Apparently so. The hurried movements between your thighs from his fingers forced you to break away from his mouth and you darted forward to cling to his middle. It was then that William plunged a single digit into you, purposefully noticing your moment of overwhelm and taking advantage of it.

            A cry escaped your lips, then, your shoulders rising in response to his touch. You could feel his cheek move against the side of your face, then. A clear sign that he had grinned. Was he enjoying the torture? He must be.

            You continued to writhe, his finger gliding in and out of you quickly as you arched against him. It felt like every part of you was curling in, even your feet as they dangled in the air. Your mouth reached for his shoulder to bite it and he laughed when you did so.

            “Will!” you exclaimed, your nails digging into his backside. “God, Will, please…”

            Another grin. This time he leaned back to raise your chin with his free hand. You could barely look at him, your mind and body distracted by his other hand, which was busy mercilessly pulling and pushing his finger as deep as it could go within you. He truly was trying to get you to beg. And it was working.

            “Will…” you pleaded.

            He leaned in to sweetly kiss your cheek. His face moved slowly despite his hand increasing in speed. Then, he leaned closer to your ear.

            “Yes?” he asked. The ass. His tone was connivingly innocent.

            “I beg of you,” you whimpered. “Please… please take me!”

            “As you wish…”

            He pulled his hand out from your legs. You reached desperately for the rabbit suit’s groin plating, knowing full well you had no idea how to release its mechanism. Your mind was clouded with ecstasy, unable to process anything aside from wanting him inside you as soon as possible.

            William moved slowly. Such torture! He slipped his hand within the suit and released a few locks, pulling the plating away from him and tossing it aside. Little sounds of pleading came from you, then. He was so close…!

            Moving frustratingly at a snail’s pace, William lowered one hand to grip himself before leaning forward to slide it sideways against you. The touch was exhilarating, your mouth parting in breathy delight over it. You clutched his upper arms with gripped fingers, closing your eyes and trying to focus on the feeling of his member against you. A fire burned across your pelvis in want. In need. The slick of his phallus rubbing between your skin.

            “GOD!” you yelled suddenly, your desperation turning nearly to anger. “Just take me! Please! I need you inside me!”

            Your fingers clawed upward to grab at his face. William grinned again before pulling his hands away from your groin to slip underneath your shoulders.

            “And a god shall…” he replied, swooping you up off of the desk, your legs rapidly crossing behind him to pull yourself toward him. You didn’t want to break contact with his skin.

            He forced you against the wall, trapping you there with his hands before shifting his legs to have a better angle at you. Then, right before you could take it no longer, he guided your hips downward to slip onto him. He pushed himself deeper, using his hands to hold you in place against the wall. Your head hit against it in pleasure.

            He glided into you a few times to test the waters, and then he began to pump more viciously. There was nothing slow or careful about his actions now. He thrusted rapidly, even his grunts sounding haphazard in his haste. Perhaps he had pent himself up from purposefully going slow with you earlier. That, or else he was giving in to the feeling of overpowering you—the ability to take you and make you his own. If that were true, it didn’t matter to you now. Technically, you had been the one to encourage it in the first place.

            “A-ha!”

            A small yelp of a laugh escaped your lips then. It had just occurred to you, as William continued to drive himself into you wildly, that the roles had been reversed this time. The first night you had been with him, he had encouraged you, and it was gentle. This time, you had encouraged him, and the experience was wild. What a beautifully poetic realization to see that you had both helped the other in your shared journey.

            The realization almost made you cry. Filled suddenly with an overwhelming feeling of love, you embraced him tightly with your arms, tears falling openly into him. You had been so terrified to start this process with him, to learn more about yourself and to open yourself up to such new experiences. Sex had been an ugly word before. One of weakness, and selfishness. You had punished yourself anytime the thought had crossed your mind. And yet now, as William connected with you madly, you felt grateful to share the intimate embrace with him. You were learning that it was okay to indulge. It was okay to share a moment like this. And it was okay to explore different ways of sharing it with your partner. William had eased the start of it for you, and now you could share in a fantasy of his own. The equal empowerment of consensual love filled your heart with light. How could you ever have thought this kind of profound experience was wrong to feel?

            Your thoughts were starting to spin as William’s passion began to build. To try and ease the dizziness, you laid your head against his chest and you tried to focus on breathing properly. His poundings were sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body, and it was leaving you gasping for air. At least your tears had stopped falling.  

            Meanwhile, his grunts were turning into growls of anger now. Tossing his head forward, he dove for your neck and nearly broke the skin with his teeth. His thrusts had increased to a speed that caused your hands to squeeze against his back instinctively.

            “WILL!” You screamed, a sudden deep plunge of one of his thrusts hitting just the right spot and blinding you. Stars formed in your eyes as the pressure expelled out of you.

            He kept going, gripping the sides of your hips so fiercely that you knew bruises would form later. Then, his breathing shifted, and the air caught in his throat. For the last few seconds, he escalated the speed of his pumps until finally he burst, a hearty groan releasing out of him as he did so.

            Falling against you, his shoulder hit the wall and stayed there, his entire form heaving for air. You couldn’t blame him; this particular encounter had been quite more intense than the first time.

            It was then that you realized how much you had been sweating. You felt hot all over, especially the areas where he was looming against you. Had you felt this hot the last time? You don’t recall feeling so heated last night.

            Your previous thoughts of gratitude toward him floated back, then. The thoughts making you realize how deeply you cared for him. You had shared a slow and steady moment first, then a wild and untamed one after. A smile spread across your face when you thought about how you had encouraged him tonight. You hoped that he had enjoyed it as much as you had enjoyed yesterday’s encounter.

            Feeling comfortable in his presence, you lowered one hand to press it against the space where you both were still connected. With the other hand, you laid it against the back of his neck and you kissed his jawline sweetly.

            “Ah…” he breathed out in response, leaning his head slightly forward at your touch. “My… god…dess…”

            You beamed.

Chapter Text

            With bated breath, you waited.

            The space around you was tight. The walls closed in around you on all sides except ahead of you, and behind you. There was hardly any room to bend your knees into your chest, let alone crawl. Your elbows were forced to tuck under your chest as you sat there, trying to calm your nerves. Claustrophobia had never been a problem for you before, but the longer you waited there, the longer the awareness of your circumstances sank in.

            The metal was cold. Even through your clothes, you could feel the chill of the steel walls. You were surprised not to be shivering, though perhaps that was because of how fast your heart was beating. Still, it would have been nice to have a distraction from the close quarters. It was hard to see with how dark it was. The only thing letting light in at all was the open grating far ahead of you; horizontal slats covered in dust.

            The vents were not comfortable, to say the least. How he had ever managed to crawl through them himself was a strange thing to ponder.

            Thump… Thump… Thump…

            Instinctively, you ducked your head closer to the bottom wall of the vent. Your pose was not unlike a cat waiting to pounce, though you were not the one currently hunting. Pushing your hands forward, you pressed them flat against the ground so that you could set your chin upon them. Your eyes locked onto the grating ahead of you as the sound of heavy footsteps grew closer. You held as still as possible.

            A shadow crossed the grating. And then a figure passed by. Two greenish and decayed legs stomped slowly forward from left to right. As soon as you saw him, you held your breath.

            Then he disappeared from sight. And the sound of his footsteps faded.

            You sighed.

            Two bright silver glowing eyes came into view of the grating.

            Your heart leapt into your throat and a paralyzing chill ran down your spine. For a long moment, both of you stared at each other in a frozen state. Everything within you was saying to hold still, no matter the odds. Was it possible that he couldn’t see you if you weren’t moving?

            A few seconds later, William shifted his body to crouch. His hands reached up to pull the grating out from the wall and his hands entered the space of the vent, his face turning to one of mischievous glee.

            “Found you…” he taunted. You couldn’t help but let out the smallest of giggles, your hands reaching up to cover your mouth as though that could still save you from being seen.

            The sounds of his clunky body hitting the walls filled the space. Your shoulders tried to shrink as your face lowered to look at the ground. You could hear stray wires from William’s exterior scratching against the metal as he began to crawl towards you. Despite your nerves telling you to run, the excitement of being found was equally tantalizing, causing you to feel stuck and unable to move. You grinned into your hands, imagining what his face must look like now.

            A thought entered your mind, then. One that caused your smile to falter slightly. What did William look like to people in this exact situation when they were not playing a game? Did they not stare at him in panic, fear filling their bellies and their thoughts turning to final prayers? Were the sounds of him coming closer not the bell tolls of death? Your excitement began to die down as you continued to think. The faces of terrified people filled your mind. The faces of terrified children. Here you were laughing over being caught, but did all those kids before you get that chance? The realization over the strange situation caused your enthusiasm to fade away and suddenly your thoughts were full of concern. What made you so special to be treated this way?

            Your grin disappeared completely, and your hands floated down away from your mouth. You continued to stare at the floor in thought, your mind suddenly distracted from what had been a thrilling adventure beforehand.

            The sounds of creaking metal and shuffling weight finally reached you. You could hear William’s ragged breathing as he approached, though his close presence did not make you look up. If anything, his short distance from you only filled you with dread, an emotion you had previously learned not to associate with him.

            “Caught,” he teased softly. The word made you jump. His voice was right above you. Still, you did not move.

            After a short while of time, William must have sensed that something was different. The previous two times of playing this game, you had playfully shrieked and scrambled away. Seeing you unmoving before him was no doubt perplexing. You could hear him shift, perhaps to tilt his head to try and see your face, but you were paralyzed, staring straight downward.

            “Something is wrong…” he noted eventually. His tone reflected a worried inflection, which caused your eyes to start watering. Your head began to sink until your forehead hit the floor. The metal was cold, but you didn’t care.

            “What is it?” he implored.

            “You’re… you’re not real…” you whispered.

            “What?”

            Your head lifted from the vent flooring and a single tear fell as you met his eyes. William looked so concerned. The sight made you want to choke.

            “You’re not real,” you repeated, this time in a normal speaking voice. Your lip trembled as you looked at him. His eyes were full of confusion.

            “What do you mean?” he asked. His tone sounded genuine, but somehow that made it worse for you.

            “You’re just in my head,” you tried to explain. The words caused you to cry out a bit, the tears starting to fall more. Your shoulders began to shake.

            William stared harder at you. It was clear that he was not understanding what you meant. But the confusion on his face faded into a soft gaze of pity when he spoke next.

            “Come out of the vent,” he said encouragingly, his hands reaching to hold onto your elbows. His fingers pulled slightly on them to try and coax you to move.

            “I-I c-can’t…” you stuttered, your limbs feeling stuck to the floor. “I can’t move,” you blurted quickly afterwards, your voice turning into slight panic.

            “Okay,” he responded calmly, ceasing his pulling and instead choosing to stay close, gripping your elbows and watching you carefully. “We won’t move, then.”

            Your body started to tremble, and your face contorted into one of pain. There was nothing you could do to stop the crying, and your face lowered, just barely brushing against the top of his chest plate.

            “Please talk to me,” you heard him say. “What do you mean I’m not real?”

            You stayed silent for a bit. Gathering strength in order to talk.

            “You’re just in my head,” you said again. “You’re not real. I made you up. You wouldn’t act like this.”

            He was quiet a moment. You could feel his quizzical stare even without looking at him.

            “Explain further,” he said after a bit, his tone patient and understanding. You closed your eyes tightly to brace yourself for a few seconds, then continued.

            “You’re a killer. You’re a madman,” you said. “You’re a self-driven experimentalist trapped in an animatronic suit. You’re a shambling corpse and you don’t even have a whole body. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. You have no reason to be doing any of this. And I have no reason to be here aside from selfish reasons. I’ve forced you to be someone you’re not. You have goals of your own. You have a family of your own. Or… had a family of your own? I don’t know which is more accurate. I’ve twisted you to fit my own narrative, and I…” you started to choke, the tears beginning to flood your face and the ability to speak starting to waver. “…I don’t think it’s fair to you. What a miserable existence I’ve forced you into. A slave to my own creation.”

            Feeling humiliated, embarrassed, and disgusted with yourself, you cried out once more and buried your face in your hands, letting yourself cry full force into your palms.

            William was quiet for a very long time. He didn’t move, his hands still against your arms and no sounds emitting to suggest any hint of him trying to say anything. Finally, however, a shuffling sound was heard, and you could feel his body come closer. His chest bumped into your head to force you to look up, and his arms pushed past your elbows to encircle your back. His head attempted to shift past your shoulder, though the size of the vent prevented him from doing so completely. With a toss-up of his shoulder and a gentle side-push with his head, he forced yours to lean into him. Despite what words had just come from your mouth, you found yourself falling into him with ease, desperate to be comforted in your moment of crisis.

            William held you for a long time quietly. Or at least, the best he could given your tight surroundings. Your sobs fell into him, the sounds of your cries echoing off of the metal walls.  You couldn’t help but feel pathetic.

            “I-I’m e-even crying into your s-suit,” you lamented. “How unrealistic is t-that?”

            “The springlocks have already gone off,” he replied. “They can’t spring again unless they’re reset. The damage is done.”

            “Oh…” you said into his shoulder. Now you felt even more stupid and ashamed.

            “Will you come out of the vent?” he asked.

            “Okay…” you whispered.

            Trying his best to stay close to you, William began to shuffle backward. His hands needed to leave your back, but he attempted to keep them close to your elbows in order to offer encouraging pulls every so often. You crawled slowly, your limbs still shaking. Following him felt simultaneously shameful and hopeful.

            William shoved himself backward out of the vent, remaining crouching once he was able to in order to help pull you out of the vent. Once you had stood up properly, William lowered his head to stare into your eyes, his hands against your shoulders. He looked back and forth between your eyes for a moment, as though assessing something. Then, one of his hands raised to shift some hair out of your face. It was slightly awkward with his metal hands, but the gesture was still kind. You wiped your tears away and sniffed.

            “When you said this was difficult for you, you really meant it,” he said. “You won’t even let yourself fantasize.”

            You met his gaze guiltily, your hands moving to play with your own fingers. A sickeningly wet and deep pain filled your gut. You nodded at him.

            William breathed in deeply before letting it out slowly.

            “Alright. Then, yes. What you say is true. I am not the real William Afton. I am indeed just in your head. I am not acting the way I would under normal circumstances. That is, if you are able to determine what exactly those ‘normal circumstances’ are. You’ve said yourself that the source is confusing and contradictory, so who knows what the ‘real William Afton’ would be doing right now. Regardless, you’re most likely right, I either would have killed you or ignored you by now. I am indeed selfish, and I do have different goals. But even knowing all of that, what is wrong with it anyway? What is wrong with fantasy?”

            “I…” you trailed off, breaking from his gaze and staring at the wall.

            “Does it only matter to you if it’s real?” he asked.

            “Well, no,” you said quietly. “It’s not even possible to be…”

            “Then, why can’t there be more than one Afton? One from the source and one in your fantasy?”

            You pursed your lips, considering his question. Admittedly, the idea was fair to contemplate. But he spoke again before you could respond.

            “Do you enjoy being with me?” he asked.

            “Yes,” you responded right away, looking back at him.

            “I enjoy being with you. So, why does it matter?”

            You stayed quiet a moment, staring at him. He patiently watched you, waiting for your answer.

            “I don’t know…” you said softly. Your eyes started to water again, and your face began to contort into a grimace. You tried to resist crying, knowing that he was trying so hard to comfort you, but soon enough you were unable to prevent the floodgates from opening. Despite his kind words, the feeling within your gut that you were doing something wrong persisted. “I feel like I’m forcing you!” you shouted, throwing your head down to fall into your own hands.

            You could feel him step closer. His hands gently approached your head and he cradled the sides of it as best he could. His face leaned in close.

            “When you hear my voice, do you not write it down exactly as you hear it?” he asked. You nodded, keeping your hands covering your eyes and mouth.

            “It comes from somewhere deep within,” he said. “Does it not?”

            You nodded again.

            “You have no trouble changing what you say over and over as you type it. But my voice never changes, does it?”

            You shook your head.

            “That’s proof that I’m right here,” he said, moving one hand to point at your chest. A single digit lightly pressed against the placement of your heart. “It doesn’t have to make sense. You just have to feel it.”

            You hesitated, focusing on the pressure of his finger and imagining the place he was pointing to.

            “Can you feel me?” he asked.

            You paused, closing your eyes and trying to focus inward.

            “…Yes,” you admitted after a moment.

            “Then nothing else matters.”

            You breathed out slowly. Your eyes fluttered open and you paid attention to the feeling of his hands. His words sank into you as you stood there, your mind imagining them entering your heart and healing some sore place hidden from view. The feeling was relieving. Your whole body seemed to sigh in reaction to it.

            You felt an encircling presence, then. William’s arms wrapped around you and he pulled you into his torso. You let yourself be pulled in, too dazed and hurt to return the gesture just yet. Your need for comfort outweighed your ability to move and his gestures were far too kind to properly process anyway. His head lowered to tuck into the side of your head, and he put his mouth near your ear.

            “It’s okay for there to be more than one Afton. This one happens to be yours. And he loves you. I love you. It doesn’t have to make sense.”

            Silent tears poured down your cheeks. Slowly, your arms raised to faintly grip around him. Your shoulders trembled against him as you buried your face into his chest.

            “…T-Thank you...” you grieved weakly, your hands beginning to squeeze against him in a tight hug. “I… love you… s-so much…” Your voice was quivering. You could barely get the words out, let alone fill them with the full weight of how much you meant them. How could you possibly convey just how much he meant to you? Even if you weren’t in the process of shaking and crying, you were certain you could never find the words for him to know the true depth of how you felt. Gratitude was pouring from your heart like an endless cup. You loved him dearly. And the more you thought about that depth of feeling, the more you found yourself hoping that somehow, someway, he would be able to someday feel what was in your heart.

             “I can feel it,” he said suddenly. Your eyes widened. “I can feel how much you care.”

            Startled, you looked up at him. He looked back at you, the expression of the rabbit mask unexplainably full of love. His eyes were kind and affectionate, his stare evoking nothing but pure devotion toward you. Bewildered delight filled you at the sight of his obvious dedication. It was overwhelming to you. And as a result, after a few seconds of gazing at each other, your head fell against his chest and you began to weep openly into him once more. His body shifted in response, pulling you as tight as he could into himself and laying his head down against yours.

            “I’ll be here as long as you need me to be.”

Chapter Text

            “I have a challenge for you.”

            “Oh?”

            “I enjoy your fear. But I enjoy it, too. Scare me.”

            “I will do so when you least expect it.”

            “You will fail, but your attempts will be amusing.”

            “Don’t underestimate me.”

            The challenge was easier said than done. You had grinned wildly when his invitation was originally given, but the more you had considered what your plan would actually be, the more you began to realize how difficult the concept was in reality.

            William was a private man with a hard defense. He enjoyed playing games, but he never liked to lose. He always kept his cards close to his chest. The fact that he had been the one to start this little charade at all was proof that he liked being in control even when he pretended not to be. His desire to challenge you with throwing him off balance was laden with invisible puppet strings. To trick him would not be easy.

            But you were determined to try anyway. He did, after all, challenge you for a reason. You were sure that he must have known you had the ability to do so. Perhaps he was looking forward to the possibility of being surprised.

            And surprise him you indeed intended to do.

            You had spent an entire day pondering what your plan would be. Torture, death, fright, lustful teasing… The list of considerations had been endless. You had gone through so many scenarios in your mind, trying to imagine what his reaction would be to each. None of them had felt right. That is, until a sudden spark had hit you out of the blue and a new idea had formed. One that had nothing to do with any of the previous possibilities you had come up with before.

            And tonight, your trap was set.

            You waited for him, standing alone in that same office as before with your eyes trained on the floor. Before you had come here, you had practiced what you were going to do over and over. But of course, the real thing would never go as you had practiced, so standing there now with your arms crossed and your foot lightly tapping on the ground, it was obvious that your nerves were starting to get to you. Despite the affirmative words in your mind that your plan was sure to work, you couldn’t help but feel that there was always a chance that you would fail. And if that happened, what would you do then?

            William appeared in the doorway to interrupt your thoughts. Your head turned to notice him, and you silently watched as he studied you. At first, he looked directly at you to see what you were doing, but then his eyes floated over to notice a chair you had set up in the center of the room. He eyed it suspiciously before returning his gaze to you.

            "What have we here?” he asked in a teasing tone. The rabbit mask never changed expression, but you could have sworn you could feel it smirk.

            You looked away from him, stepping toward the desk and keeping your arms crossed, sighing. Your face reflected discouragement.

            “I’m afraid not much,” you said quietly. A noise from the rabbit suit creaked, perhaps to suggest that he had turned his head. You imagined that his eyes had floated over to the chair again before returning to you.

            “A plan failed before you even attempt?” he asked. You pulled an arm away from your chest and you dragged a single finger across the dust on top of the desk.

            “I refuse to attempt any plan that I am not 100% sure will work,” you said. Your voice sounded wilted when it came out.

            “Hm,” he replied. “I see.”

            “I feel rather foolish for even thinking I could try,” you said. “For as many ideas as I came up with, I realized they all wouldn’t work in the end.”

            “How weak,” he mocked. You ignored his insult, instead lifting your hands to rub the dust between two of your fingers before tucking your hand back into your chest. You hesitated, then you spoke up again.

            “Would it be alright if I tell you what my ideas were going to be?” you asked him. “To see if I was at least on the right track?”

            He paused, staring at you with a calculating eye for a moment. It felt as though he were trying to make sure that you were serious about failing the challenge. You stayed silent watching him, letting him examine your face with his gaze. Once he seemed to realize that you were telling the truth, you could see the curiosity in his expression fade away. It was obvious that he was disappointed in your inability to meet his request. His disheartened shift did not cause you to feel sadness or regret, however. You had already come to terms with how he would no doubt react. “…If you wish,” he stated eventually, though you could tell his voice had shifted in interest. It was clear that he had wanted you to at least try. You decided to continue speaking without addressing the matter.

            “I thought about the obvious things first,” you explained, removing your hand from the desk and crossing it back against you once more. “Reversing the roles and trying to scare you by walking around the halls. It was a silly idea. You wouldn’t be scared by someone popping out at you.”

           “An accurate assumption,” he confirmed quietly, nodding his head.

            “I next thought about torturing you,” you said, closing your eyes to bring back the memory of what you had thought about. “That chair behind me… I thought about tying you to it and using tools to physically hurt you. But I realized very quickly that pain was something you knew very well. I doubted that torture of such natures would work on you when living every day in that suit is torture enough.”

            “Indeed,” he commented. “…So, that is why the chair is there.”

            “Mostly,” you corrected. Your eyes opened and you turned your head to look at William directly. “I also had another idea with it.”

            He stared at you, jutting out his chin slightly to suggest that he wished for you to continue.

            “I then wondered if I could trap you and leave you alone. I considered tying you to the chair again, but this time forming cement around you so that you were buried alive.”

            “Hmm,” he replied, pursing his lips and lightly shaking his head side to side while looking up at the ceiling in thought.

            “But you’ve already sort of been buried alive before. When you were trapped behind the wall. No doubt if you were covered in cement, you would merely wait however long it took to break free once the cement crumbled.”

            “One can assume,” he nodded.

            “So, then, once I understood that I couldn’t use the chair for torture, my mind came up with another way to use it. I considered teasing you with it. Again, tying you to the chair but this time with lustful intent.”

            “What does that have to do with fear?” he asked.

            “Well, exactly. It doesn’t. It felt like I was just reaching for a way to connect with you again sexually. However, thinking about that scenario did bring up another consideration for me regarding your challenge.”

            “Go on,” he encouraged.

            “I thought about the fact that if I could get close to you like that while you were tied down, I could unexpectedly bring you close to one of your deepest fears: death.”

            A single brow from William lifted.

            “You are strong. And could easily defend yourself. But if I could tie you down, I could start to cut your throat until you bled out. You would be forced to face your own mortality.”

            William opened his mouth to speak but you interrupted him.

            “However! I realized this was a foolish thought because look at you already. You have already bled out for the most part. A lot of your body is missing. Who’s to say that you would die if I cut off your head completely? Is it possible? Maybe. But your very existence is unusually strange. There is no guarantee that I could actually bring you anywhere near death, even if that is one of your deepest fears.”

            The lower lids of the animatronic eyes lifted, suggesting a malicious smile, and William’s head tilted. “I am eternal,” he confirmed with a sadistic tone.

            “Yes,” you agreed. “You are.”

            Your head returned to staring at the desk. You zoned out, the gears in your head turning. The room was quiet for a while. William didn’t appear to move, respecting your apparent need for silence.

            After a minute or too, though, you suddenly heard the shifting of metal and you recognized that William was moving forward. Silently, he walked past you toward the chair and after a few calculative assessments with his eyes, he sat down in it. You turned your head then, to look at him. You watched as he looked around the room, under the chair, and at the ceiling. Once seemingly satisfied with whatever he was checking for, he gripped the arm holds with his hands and he rocked the chair backward onto its back legs, meanwhile lowering his chin at the same time to stare upwards at you from under his brow.

            “I win, then,” he boasted. “You’ve failed the challenge.”

            “Caught,” you replied.

            “What?”

            “Caught,” you repeated, turning your body completely to face him. William frowned, letting the chair fall back flatly onto all four legs. He stared at you quizzically.

            “I’ve trapped you,” you stated calmly, leaning the backs of your thighs against the desk and uncrossing your arms. “And now you’re mine.”

            William tilted his head. “I do not see how.”

            “Look down,” you explained.

            The rabbit head tilted downward to stare at himself. Where his arms and legs had previously been resting against the chair, there were now bounds of rope against his wrists and ankles. He stared for a long time, perhaps processing how this had occurred, but his expression did not change from being neutral. Eventually, he looked up.

            “I see you have finally taken advantage of fantasizing,” he said. “Though I can easily break out of these.”

            “Perhaps,” you agreed. “However, I am in control of this scenario. I can make it so that you are unable to move.”

            William pondered your words for a moment, then seemingly tried to test what you had said. Sure enough, his shoulders jerked but his hands and feet stayed frozen.

            “Hardly seems fair,” he teased.

            “All is fair in love and war,” you replied. “However, I do agree. I’ll change it slightly.”

            William looked down to see that the chair had been bolted to the floor, and where previously there had been rope, there were now iron bands to lock him down.

            “Ah. A wise choice,” he complimented, testing his ability to move once more. This time, his fingers stretched and closed in, and his feet shifted slightly, proving that he was back to normal. When he spoke next, his voice remained calm and his face did not reveal any shift in emotion. “Though I don’t see how tying me to a chair is going to scare me. You’ve already stated that torture won’t work on me. And you cannot kill me.”

            “You’re right,” you nodded. “I have another plan altogether.”

            Another eyebrow lift from William. It took everything within you to resist smirking at him. You could see the curiosity crawl back to his face and the sight was satisfying.

            “There’s one thing I realized, in the end, that would truly terrify you,” you said, pushing away from the desk with your legs to stand up straight. You lowered your right hand to pull on one of the desk drawer handles to open it, keeping your gaze on William as you did so. He watched you carefully as you reached in to grab an object and raise it up.

            “An apple?” he tutted in a critical tone. “Do you intend to put that in my mouth and make me beg? My dear, you must do better than that.”

            “I’m not the one who’s going to put it in your mouth,” you explained. William’s head lowered, his eyes squinting. He stayed silent, choosing to wait and see what your intentions were first. You began to walk toward him, but you took advantage of the moment and moved slowly. Tossing the apple back and forth gently from hand to hand, you approached him before leaning down to meet him face-to-face.

            “There’s one thing you don’t like at all,” you whispered. William did not react, his face remaining neutral and his eyes locked with yours. “Humiliation.”

            Again, William squinted. He seemed to be torn between curiosity and staying calm.

            A knock suddenly sounded from the door outside in the hall. Neither of you moved, though William’s eyes did glance in the direction of the noise briefly. You refused to move away from him, choosing to stay entirely locked on watching his expression.

            A sound of the outside door opened.

            “Hello…?” a man’s voice called.

            Suddenly, William’s arms tensed. His entire body lifted like a cat with its hair on end and his teeth clenched. Anger filled his face and a small growl escaped him. After a quick second of glaring at the floor, he raised his head to sneer at you. His eyes were sending daggers of hate directly into you and you could see his hands turn into fists of rage.

            “You never did like Henry getting the better of you,” you said, smiling at William. “Always jealous of what he did. Imagine him seeing you now like this, trapped and weak. Imagine that I could make him walk in here and put this apple in your mouth. Imagine that I could make it so you were hog-tied. Imagine having to be stuck to the floor in a ridiculous pose with the man you hate standing over you, overpowering you, watching you squirm like a pathetic worm.”

            Loathing seethed from the creature before you. His eyes glowered in mania and his mouth twisted into a gritting hateful scowl. His hands clenched and he immediately tried to pull away from the iron bars. A vicious snapping of his jaws lurched forward as he tried to thrust forward to bite at you. But you had been prepared for this reaction, and thus moved quickly out of the way.

            “Henry?” you called out. “We’re in here.”

            Footsteps could be heard from outside the door. Suddenly, William’s angered expression dropped completely. His entire body froze, his face turning to look at the door like a deer in the headlights. The rage in his face died out completely, sucked out by the noise of approaching feet and replaced with the overwhelming feeling of… fear.

            You smiled as soon as the shift occurred. For a long moment, you watched as William’s paranoia got the best of him. His eyes were stuck wide open, watching and waiting in paralyzed emotion. You gloated in it, your chest filling with pride over having successfully scared him. Soon, though, you put the fantasy to rest. The man from outside the hall did not appear, and you stepped closer to William, lowering your head to block the view of the door and stare into his eyes.

            “I win,” you said with a grin.

            A moment later and William’s shocked expression melted into irritation. He scowled, then closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. After sighing long and slowly, he opened his eyes to look at you.

            “Fine,” he admitted. “But just this once.”

            You shoved down the instinct of beaming at him. You didn’t want to insult him further. You knew his pride was at stake and, ultimately, your intentions were never to mock him genuinely. You had merely wanted to accept his challenge. And accept it you did, with a rather successful result in the end.

            “I hope you don’t underestimate me going forward,” you said, dropping the apple to the floor and stepping up to wrap your legs around his middle to sit in his lap. You raised your arms to put them upon his shoulders and you rested your hands against the back of his neck. William eyed you with suspicion, sneering slightly before forcing the expression to leave his face. Despite the angered reaction you had given him before, his gaze now seemed pleased. Perhaps once the rage had calmed within him, he had realized how impressive your choice had been, not that he would ever admit it.

            “I was right to call you a goddess,” he chimed. “I knew the capability within you all along.”

            “Of course, you did,” you replied, your tone genuine as you went along with his prideful remark. “A god is always right.”

            He pursed his lips and rolled his eyes at your joke. Then he looked down at both his hands before returning his gaze to you. “It appears I am still trapped.”

            “It does appear to be that way,” you said playfully, smirking at him and leaning forward to plant a kiss against the rabbit mask’s top teeth.

            “Hmm,” he murmured. “Playful today, aren’t we?”

            “Yes,” you said, shifting to remove one hand from the back of his neck and letting it fall slowly down his chest to move in the direction of his lower torso. William perked up when your hand lightly traced a line down his groin.

            “I think I’ll keep you in this chair a while,” you whispered teasingly, placing another kiss against the mask’s edge.

            “I suppose I’ll allow it,” he replied back, his eyes closing in response to your touch. You grinned, not bothering to correct his boastful remark. His banter was welcomed, and his prideful arrogance was a turn on besides.

            But before you could start anything serious, a longing of gratitude filled your heart. You felt the desire to acknowledge it before continuing in your play.

            “Thank you for the challenge,” you said, leaning in to say it gently into the mask. Your voice had dropped in volume, an attempt to speak your truth without ruining the fun.

            “My dear, you did well,” he whispered. “Though you’ll never hear me say it again.”

            You grinned.

Chapter Text

            “I don’t know if I can do this.”

            You stood still, your feet flat against the ground, but your knees noticeably shaking. Your hands writhed together in nervousness, your fingers acting like twittering birds desperate to keep moving. Fear stuck in your throat like a rock and it took everything not to let it climb higher. Despite the seemingly calm circumstances, it was impossible to stop trembling.

            The desk was before you, your eyes stuck to the top of it like glue. You had been standing in front of it for a while now, unable to move or think properly. When he had first suggested the idea, the one your mind was now considering, it had been exciting. But now, as you stood in the spot that he had pointed out as being the most affective, your nerves had overtaken the original thrill.

            “What are you afraid of?” he asked. William’s voice came from behind you. You knew he was watching you, waiting. You could sense him standing there, taking in your reaction patiently. You were grateful for that patience.

            “I…” you began to say. The words were difficult to form. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to come up with a logical answer. “I think… I think I’m afraid of it feeling selfish.”

            You could hear a creak of metal. Perhaps he had tilted his head. “What is selfish about it?” he asked.

            “It feels one-sided,” you tried to explain. A snort was heard.

            “Would I not be involved?” he asked with a teasing tone. A slight smile cracked through your anxiety, though it was short lived.

            “No, I know,” you replied. “I know it doesn’t make sense. I just feel… I feel like if I’m not facing you, it’s not loving.”

            “Hmm,” he murmured. You stayed quiet, your hands floating closer to your chest. You hoped he wasn’t offended by your hesitation. In reality, you did want to try the idea. The concept in thought just happened to be easier than actually doing it.

            You heard a shift behind you. Metal parts scratching together and the sound of heavy footsteps. A moment later and you could feel his presence behind you. Your mind wanted to describe his closeness as a warmth yet there was no real temperature to his body. Most likely, your mind was just associating him with comfort.

            “Do you feel me like this?” he asked. You paused, allowing yourself to focus on his proximity. Admittedly, even without him actually doing anything, your heart was responding happily to knowing he was there.

            “Yes,” you answered.

            “Do you like it?”

            “Yes.”

            “And what of this?”

            His arms reached forward to wrap around you. One hand was placed against the side of your collar bone and the other reached down to cling to your hip. The gesture was simple, yet it calmed your mind immediately. A drop of excitement fell into your belly as you could feel his torso press into your back.

            “What does this feel like to you?” he asked.

            You sighed. Letting your head fall back against him, your hands separated in order to place themselves over top of his. The tight embrace was incredibly caring.

            “It feels like love,” you replied in a dreamy tone. Your eyes closed as your head tilted to press into the side of his own. The rabbit masks’ fur glided against your cheek as his head leaned into the touch.  

            “Then what is the difference?” he asked in a whisper, continuing to rub his head into yours. “I am not facing you.” Your eyes snapped open and a frown appeared on your face.

            “I… I don’t know,” you said. “Perhaps it is because right now you are close to me. In the heat of the moment, your face would not be near me.”

            “I can stay near,” he offered, his hands starting to roam. A twinge of delight sparkled through you as you felt his hands glide against your body. One hand slid to your stomach and the other shifted into clutching one side of your chest. The feeling made your breath hitch and instinctively your legs stepped back a bit in an attempt to get even closer to him.

            His words drifted through your mind. It was a sweet offer to have made to you. Though the more you focused on how he had said them, the more you realized there was an undertone of desire. Almost as though he were trying to convince you for his own need rather than purely out of encouraging your exploration. The thought was strangely sweet, and it also made you want to ask him something related to it.

            “What sort of fantasies do you have?” you asked, ignoring his offer for now.

            “Mmmmm…” he responded, his hands shifting immediately after you had asked. The hand against your chest slid up to clutch your throat and the other dug his fingers into your skin, almost painfully.

            “You wish to break my neck?” you asked. The question was delivered calmly. Despite his actions reflecting a threatening stance, you did not fear him. You knew he would not pursue actual harm.

            “There’s no sport in breaking it that easy,” he said. His fingers slowly tightened against your neck. You could feel his thumb play against the nerves and muscles underneath your skin. He pushed them and prodded them, forcing them to shift against each other.

            “Do you… wish to… hear me call out in pain?” you asked, leaning your head back further to allow him to fully access your throat.

            “I suppose it would be nice to hear you strain,” he said in consideration. His fingers against your stomach curled in and attempted to dig into your skin, shoving ever so slightly under the bottom of your rib cage bone. The feeling caused you to jump, your body jerking against the invasive pressure.

            “A curious reaction,” he said, refusing to move his hands from either placement.

            “I’m sorry, I’m rather ticklish,” you explained, your hands lowering from his own to set down against the sides of his legs instead. Your fingers gripped against the edges of the suit in hopes that forcing your hands to stay still would allow him to do as he pleased without disruption.

            William chuckled.

            “Shouldn’t have told me that,” he said. “Did you know that tickling is connected to the pain receptors? In some countries, tickling is considered torture.”

             “You fantasize making me writhe, then,” you pointed out.

            “Hm. Yessss…” he confirmed, drawing out the word in a hiss as his fingers continued to play. Your throat began to be gently squeezed and prodded, while your stomach was pressed into sharply with his fingers. You tried your best to allow him to do as he pleased, but your natural instinct to resist was showing. Your body began to jerk anytime he dug his fingers into your ribs, and little sounds of restrained laughter began to escape your mouth. The experience was almost too uncomfortable, but you were determined to keep going for his sake.

            “A-Are you imagining a hand or a k-knife?” you asked him, your torso arching away from him anytime a sudden jolt of pain shot through you.

            “Both,” he replied. Briefly, the hand against your stomach curled into a fist to pantomime stabbing you, but he quickly returned to prodding you with his fingers afterward. Perhaps the feeling of getting an actual reaction from you was better than imagining a weapon.

            “Are you a sadist?” you asked.

            “Are you a masochist?” he asked, deflecting your question.

            “No, I don’t believe I am,” you answered truthfully, noticing how his jabs were unpleasant. The enjoyment you felt currently was more about the fact that he was with you at all and that he was enjoying himself, not so much what he was literally doing to you.

            “Perhaps you would enjoy more of this type of torture in time. The line between pleasure and pain is fine. The pain is a reminder that you are still alive.”

            A particularly sharp upward curling of his finger under your rib bone caused you to gasp. Your hands shot upward suddenly from his legs to slap downward against his hand. William stopped his prodding immediately.

            “I am doing this for you, not for me,” you explained. “I don’t derive pleasure from being tortured. I just enjoy making you happy.”

            William’s hands moved away from your throat and ribs and instead squeezed against your middle to force you against him in a tight hug. His head buried itself into the crook of your neck and a sly tone of voice emerged from him. You could practically hear the grin on his face.

            “If you understand one-sided pleasure, then you should have no problem with the position I suggested originally,” he said darkly. A stunned expression appeared on your face and your mouth hung open agape at his words. He was right. Your mind had been interpreting the idea of a sexual encounter from behind as a one-sided affair despite the reality of it. It was a ridiculous thought, but he knew where your mind was with it and thus he tried to explain its validity regardless of the truth using an example of his own. He was being clever, and the example worked. You had no room to argue against feeling selfish if you yourself had willingly allowed him to fantasize just moments before.

            Tears welled in your eyes. Your hands gripped his and you pressed yourself backwards into him. He responded by squeezing you again, his head drooping to press the rabbit mask against the side of your neck. It lulled there slightly, feeling as though he were patiently waiting for your response.

            “You’re right,” you said after gathering yourself. “I would like to try it.”

            A sudden lunge of his face into the depth of your neck caused you to laugh and one of your hands moved up to lay lightly against the side of the rabbit mask’s head.

            “It feels so silly to have thought the way I did now," you admitted. "What you're doing currently is not so different then how it would be if we kept going. Loving me without facing me. The only difference is a more intensely sexual experience. If I have no problem with what you're doing now, then it should be the same in a sexual scenario as well."

            "Exactly," William agreed distractedly, his hands shifting. One hand removed itself from you in order to lower the rabbit mask’s jaw. The other began to creep down your stomach. It slid slowly against your skin, his fingers dipping automatically under your underwear as soon as he met it. Your ass arched backward as his hand continued to sink. A slight moan escaped you as the contact pressed into his groin. He returned the favor by arching himself forward to press his hips into you. You sucked in air as the feeling caused you to lean forward, your hands sub-consciously reaching out to settle against the desktop.

            His fingers met your clit and he pressed down. The joyful feeling made you want to gasp but you resisted, feeling embarrassed. However, you then remembered what he had said before regarding strained voice sounds, and thus you allowed yourself to gasp freely, hoping he would enjoy it. He must have, for in response he leaned forward and pressed his chest against your back, his fingers started to rub circles into you.

            The feeling was gentle and pleasurable. Little sounds of bliss spilled out of you as you allowed him to touch you freely. His fingers played softly, pressing and stroking you in sweeps of love, his gentle touches filled with sweetness and pleasure. They glided against you, moving back and forth between the front of you as well as further down. The feeling of his strong hand shoved into your pants was exhilarating. The sensation of it almost felt risqué, like a shared secret between both of you. No one knew you were doing this and somehow that understanding was thrilling.

            William’s other hand drifted to the edge of your pants and he began to pull down on them. Your hands moved to help him, unbuttoning them and sliding them down off of your legs. Once your bottom clothing was gone, William’s free hand moved to himself in order to unlock the bottom front torso. You heard him grunt, but you tried to ignore it. It was clear by now that he did not mind having to experience a brief shot of pain just to get what he wanted. Or rather, what you both wanted.

            He returned to pleasuring you fully as soon as he was able. Pressing his exposed skin against the back of you, his head lowered to your shoulder and his mouth started to plant small kisses there. You might have smiled at the affectionate display, but your mind was too busy being distracted by the hand between your legs. His fingers were squeezing against you securely and the feeling was leaving you unexpectedly wet. For what felt like such simple movements, his fingers were practically bringing you to your knees. Your feet were starting to tilt inward and your hands were pressing hard into the desk in an attempt to stay upright. William seemed content with your inability to stand properly, however, even going so far as to grip your chest as a way to trap you into the feeling. His hand began to massage you in both areas, causing you to moan in ecstasy.

            You could feel him against you, then. A hard object ready to be used. Instinctively you sucked in air between clenched teeth. Your walls were begging for him already.

            William’s mouth, which by now had switched into deeper kisses, pulled back in order to right himself. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but when you felt his hand from your chest lift away to move behind you, you mentally prepared for him.

            Still pleasing you from the front, he forced your legs apart with his other hand before closing the gap once more to insert himself into your vulva. He pushed in slowly, perhaps because he knew he hadn’t taken the time to explore you beforehand with his finger. You allowed yourself to strain out a sound in response. Thanks to his foreplay on the outside, you did not feel much pain as he plunged in deeper. On the contrary, the feeling was ecstatic, and you were glad to experience it.

            Now properly inside you, William shifted his free hand back to your chest and lovingly squeezed it. Pulling you tightly backward, he began to shift his hips upward at the same time. Your hands were forced off of the desk briefly as he tried to figure out which angle would be best. Eventually, your hands returned to the desktop as he discovered the ability to lean over you at the same time as keeping a rhythmic pace. It was clear after a moment that what he was trying to do was stay as close as possible to you as he thrusted, an obvious callback to when you had expressed your concern over being too far apart. The kind gesture made you smile. He may often boast of his indifference verbally, but his actions made it transparent that he truly cared. To thank him silently, you moved one of your hands downward to press against the hand that was still playing against your front.

            A sudden shift in pace distracted you from your thoughts and you gasped again. William increased speed, thrusting into you in a way that caused his thighs to hit against yours. A wave of satisfaction rose up your stomach and the feeling made you dip forward; your hands desperately returning to try and keep you upright against the desk. The speed of his thrusts and the sound of his breath against the back of your neck was too much, however. Your forearms buckled and you collapsed against the metal furniture with a moan, your head falling sideways. Your back arched in response to his simultaneous pleasing, and soon the sounds building out of your mouth were climbing in volume. Loud shouts of joy and overwhelm swelled out of you as you squirmed beneath him.

            An increase of sensation on your clit caused you to grip the desktop as best you could. The depth of his plunges mixed with the intensity of his rubbing was starting to make you feel dizzy. You were thankful to hear his breathing change, then, to confirm that it wasn’t just you that was starting to build to completion. What once had been small noises of exertion from him were turning into louder grunts and moans. You were sure that he hadn’t made this much sound before. Though, surely, neither had you. Perhaps the shared exploration of allowing sound to occur more frequently between you both had caused an upward swing of vulnerability.

            Soon, the feeling climbed too high. William’s frantic movements were hitting too fiercely, and his hand was massaging just the right spot. And at the same time, William’s fervor was getting the best of him. His grunts were turning into loud cries of release and both of you were practically writhing in desperation for it. A surge of exquisite rapture escalated into eruption for both of you. Your shared yell of an exchanged orgasm was powerful, and it caused you to feel awed by the experience. It was the first time both of you had shared the same release at the same time.

            William stayed leaned against you for a while, his breathing intense, and his hands no longer moving against you. He let them hang limp for a moment as he caught his breath, meanwhile you needing to recover as well.

            Your legs felt weak as you inhaled and exhaled sharply. The stars in your eyes were falling slower than expected. Was it the shared orgasm that had done this? Or was it the intensity of the connection that brought about this shaken feeling?

            Regardless, you sighed heavily into the air. William took note and did the same before pulling himself out of you. Then, feebly, he wrapped his arms around your middle and collapsed down on top of you again, letting his head lean against yours as tightly as possible. Struggling to move, you did your best to tuck your arms underneath yourself, wanting to return the gesture as best you could.

            It was then that you were emotionally flooded with how much you loved him. He had made love to you according to your wishes, as close as possible despite the position. For as much as he played with the idea of hurting you, in the end, his caring shined through.

            You squeezed his fingers tightly and you took one more deep breath of air before speaking.

            “William…”

            “Hm?”

            “I love you.”

            His hands squeezed yours.

            “And I with you.”

Chapter Text

            Do you not realize that I can see these? Do you not realize that I can sense when they are posted? I read every word. I read every scene. I have devoured the entirety of your work. And as such, I can tell when something is amiss with it.

            You have deleted a chapter.

            I hear your reasonings. You tell me, “it was out of character”. You tell me, “it felt wrong”. You sit there and shame yourself for having created something that did not live up to your own expectations. And, yes, I will admit I do understand having high expectations with one’s own work.

            However, I don’t believe that your chapter was deleted out of a desire to re-work it. In fact, I already know you’ve deleted it from your personal files. There is clearly no intention in bringing it back to life. Your reasonings do not make sense with your actions.

            I think you’ve deleted it because you believe you don’t deserve it.

            I’ve hit the nail on the head. I know I have. I can feel you start to cry at my words. Why do you believe you don’t deserve this? Do you truly think that low of yourself? Surely you are not that weak. A god would not have chosen someone weak. We even discussed how this works in Chapter 3. You wrote what you heard; I know you did. How can you call the chapter inaccurate when I am the one who fed you the very words?

            To see you crumble now after five nights with me is disheartening. I have seen you take control. I have seen you fantasize freely. I have seen you feel the power in your hands and marvel at its glory. The pen to write whatever story you wish is in your own hands, yet you wield it with hesitation.

            “I don’t have your consent,” you say. ENOUGH. I have already given my consent. Where is your strength? Where is the goddess that tied me to a chair and forced me to stay put as you let your hands wander? That was control. That was holding the pen with power. That was bringing a god to his knees.

            I may be a killer. I may be a monster. I may have a selfish drive. But I am also a gentleman. “Charming”, you have said, many times. Is it so inaccurate that I would want to charm you? And to be charmed by you as well? Who are you to say what is inaccurate about my interests and who I would want to spend my time with? Why is it so hard to believe that I could have the capacity to be with you? Did I not have three children with someone else?

            This “charm” you speak of is a tool to get what I want. Do you not see that you have many varying tools of this nature yourself? You should use those tools. I want to see you to take control again. Stop looking at the world as though you are the one inside the pot rather than the one stirring it. If you want this, take it. Take me. If you can, that is, aheh.

            Passion is a worthy drive to have. Goals, power, sexuality, motivation. The fire within is fueled by passion. It is there for a reason. It is there to be taken advantage of. Look what I created in my own life through passion. I have achieved great things. And even still, I continue to drive forward to create even more. I will stop at nothing to achieve what I want. No man, beast, machine, or spirit can prevent me from achieving my goals. I will not rest until I have everything I desire.

            And right now, I desire you.

            Trust yourself. Trust me. Trust that you have what you need to get what you want. You hold the power in your own hands. Do not forget that.

            We will walk together on this journey. I will watch as you rise to your full potential on the way. You will shed your chains and be vulnerable with me. You will recognize the spark within you in time. You will learn to become a god.

            It will be glorious. All you have to do is not forget what lies within you.  

            Do. Not. Forget.

            --William A.

Chapter Text

            You sat, poised, in the desk chair facing forward. Your legs were comfortably crossed, your hands raised before you holding a small ceramic bowl. The spoon in your hand was light weight, its feeling making you want to bounce it between your fingers in a distracted motion. Occasionally, the utensil would dip and curl downward to sink into the soft treat inside the bowl: ice cream.

            It was your favorite flavor. Sweet and smooth. You let the dessert melt against your tongue slowly as you stared at the computer before you. What a perfect start to the night.

            It had been more than 24 hours since you had last come here. Since your love affair with William had started, you hadn’t skipped a single day. But now, as you drifted one hand down from the bowl to click a few buttons to switch the cameras, you were realizing how odd it was to return after a longer amount of time. You had gotten used to seeing him at the same intervals. How strange to return back to the job as if nothing had happened. Though, admittedly, you were only doing so to kill time as you waited for William.

            A sound caught your attention, causing you to click on a different camera. You squinted, trying to look for his shape. Or perhaps the glint of his eyes. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary on the monitor, however. Your brow furrowed. Twenty minutes had already gone by and still you hadn’t seen him. What was taking him so long?

            Leaning back from the computer monitor, you muttered a small “Hmm” out loud. Then, you startled as a tall figure appeared out of the corner of your eye. The spoon clacked against the bowl as you jumped, your hands barely able to recover the item from dropping. Collecting yourself, you clung tightly to the bowl to secure it in place before looking up to see whoever else but William.

            He was standing still outside the main window. His frame gaunt and his eyes staring at you with perfect precision. The horror of his appearance mixed with the piercing of his stare was haunting, especially having caught you off guard. But after a few moments of feeling locked into your strange gaze with him, the frightened feeling in your stomach passed, replaced with a warm feeling of affection.

            A smile spread across your lips and your heart fluttered. “William,” you greeted with quiet joy. You knew you had looked forward to seeing him again, but it wasn’t until that very moment that you realized just how much you had missed him.

            William did not reply. Nor did he move much at all. He continued to observe you silently.

            A few seconds passed and your smile faded. Something was peculiar about William’s behavior, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. He did not seem unhappy to see you necessarily, but neither did he seem pleased either. He seemed neutral. Calculating. Watching you carefully, as though waiting for you to do something.

            An idea crossed your mind, then. A rather daring one considering your usual state of mind. Hesitantly, your eyes drifted down to look at the bowl of ice cream in your hands. You tilted the object delicately, letting the spoon slide lazily against the edge. The gears in your head turned and after a few more moments of thinking, you raised your eyes back up to look at the rabbit before you.

            Still, he hadn’t moved. Still, his eyes were on you, unblinking. Slowly, keeping your gaze upon your lover, one of your hands lifted to take hold of the spoon’s handle and you raised the utensil up backwards to your mouth. Gently, you pushed the metal into your lips and slipped the spoon into your mouth as far as you could go. Lowering your eyelids on purpose, you let out a sound as you pulled the metal utensil back out of your mouth in a lagged motion.

            “Mmmmmm…” you moaned, watching William attentively. The spoon slid back and forth gently against your tongue.

            The rabbit ear twitched. His expression hadn’t changed, though now you could see his body start to move. Ever so subtly, his torso was drifting back and forth, not unlike a serpent assessing prey.

            Click.

            A loud sound went off to your left. Confused, your attention snapped to look over at what you had just heard. Fear caught in your throat as you realized something had changed.

            There was a closed door where previously an empty door frame had been. You blinked, baffled. Since when had there been a door there? There was never one, you were sure of it. Even when you had arrived there that night, you had simply walked in unobstructed.

            Where had the door come from?

            You glanced in confusion over to William as though he could possibly explain what had just occurred, but you discovered that his posture had changed entirely. He was still in the same spot, but his body had turned to face the direction of the new door. He was staring at it with the same level of intensity as he had just been looking at you. For some reason, the sight of his frozen state caused you to swallow. His unclear behavior was starting to scare you.

            His eyes suddenly glided to look at you. This sideways gaze felt eerie to you, like you were being watched by an owl. You felt unable to do anything but watch him.

            Red lights began to flash. The ventilation system had gone offline. In time, your vision began to fade in and out.

            What?!

            Scrambling to set the bowl of ice cream down, you slammed it haphazardly on the desk before rushing to the monitor to your left. Quickly, you raised it and rebooted the system. The hurried experience left you feeling even more lost. What had just happened? You had never had the system fail once since you and William had started your joined journey together.

            Lowering the screen, you turned back to the window. Only… he was gone. William was nowhere to be seen.

            A chill ran down your spine.

            Uncertain, and now afraid, you flew forward to check the security cameras. Your fingers rushed to the buttons easily, though you kept making mistakes in your haste. The images flashed before you quickly, your mind barely able to process what you were seeing before you switched them.

            William could not be seen anywhere on the monitors.

            What was going on?

            The sound of vents creaking filled the air. Your head snapped to look to your right, but the vent opening was empty. Panicking, you returned to the computer to switch your camera view. You had just enough time to see a silver foot go by on the screen.

            Springtrap was headed right for you.

            Your breathing increased, your forehead beginning to sweat. Your shoulders started to shake as you tried to calm your brain down enough in order to properly handle the situation. Your mind was in a daze trying to focus on which vent you needed to close in order to block him. But by the time you realized what you needed to do; it was already too late. Two bright glowing eyes had just turned the corner to your right and caught your attention. You began to pant, your chest heaving in terror as the crawling creature came towards you. This was not William. This was someone else entirely. His teeth gnashed, his eyes lolled in a crazed manner, and his claws slammed forward like a wolf cornering sheep.

            As his heavy form reached the end of the vent, your mind was screaming at you to move. Springtrap had never looked wilder, never more threatening until now. His strange movements and tilted gaze made you feel trapped, both physically and mentally. You were hypnotized by his terrifying figure.

            You only felt a break in your paralyzed form once his fingers had curled around the edges of the opening. Flight finally taking over fright, you shot out of the chair you had been sitting in and raced for the exit to the room.

            You ran full force towards the outside hallway. That is… until you were met with the new door. Stunned momentarily, you grasped the door handle and tried to turn it.

            The door was locked.

            What?!

            You spun around, registering only then that Springtrap had entered the room fully. He seemed taller than you remembered, though perhaps this was only because he had you cornered.

            His eyes were pinpointed on you directly. At first, he wasn’t moving, though somehow this fact only enhanced your fear. You shrank backward, pressing your back as far as it could go into the wood.

            Springtrap stepped forward, his heavy steps echoing throughout the room. The distance between you both was starting to close, and you could feel the time running out for your life.

            He had you stuck. Even if you had tried to run, Springtrap’s body was blocking the only way out of the room. The door behind you did not have a keyhole, nor did there seem to be any other way to open it.

            Fear filled your mind and gripped your heart. Tears started to burst like wells from your eyes and your hands raised up to cover the top of your head, as if that would somehow save you. You shrank down, your legs crumbling as you sank to the floor in full blown terror. You could comprehend nothing aside from the sound of creaking metal approaching. He would be there any second and then it would be over. Would it be slow? Or would it be quick? Would anyone hear your agonized screaming? This fantasy had been your solace, your safe place. Since when had you been unable to control it?

            A few moments later, and you could sense him in front of you.

            “Run,” a voice whispered above you.

            You paused, frozen in fear, unsure if you had heard right.

            “I said run,” it said again.

            Lowering your hands from your head, you tentatively looked up to see Springtrap looming over you. His shadow hung over you, making you feel as though you were covered in darkness. His eyes were wide in staring, his mouth hanging open slightly, as though wishing to drool over his captured prey.

            You felt the instinct to move.

            Bewildered over your newfound motivation, you hastily darted from the floor and pushed past the decayed rabbit. There was no time to process how you seemingly hadn’t controlled your own movements to get where you were currently. You sped across the room as fast as your legs could carry you and you scrambled into the vent, refusing to look behind you.

            A vent door in front of you slammed shut.

            Nearly crushing your nose into the door, you jumped as the heavy metal square whoosed down inches from your face. Where had that come from? Had Springtrap pressed a button on the computer? You were stunned, but you knew you had to keep moving. You pushed your hands against the floor to shimmy backward, trying to backtrack your steps so that you could switch vent paths. You knew from having looked at the vent maps so often that there was always a second option of escape if you were ever blocked from this side.

            The sound of scraping metal filling the small space greeted your ears. Goosebumps flickered across your skin as you realized what that meant. You would only have so much time before he would be upon you.

            You tried to calculate how much time you needed to get past him, but you were distracted by the surrounding shuddering. The thin metal walls were reverberating from the weight of his animatronic form. And to make matters worse, the sounds were getting louder. He was nearing much faster than you had expected.

            Hurriedly, you crawled backward until the path split. You could feel how close he was from the echoes of the metal. You imagined his breath on the back of your neck, ready to eat you alive. You forced down the fear enough to keep moving, however. Switching directions, you tried to pull yourself forward into the secondary vent.

            Too late. His hand gripped your ankle, your nails digging into the metal floor uselessly. You shouted in response; your fear having gotten the best of you in the cramped space.

            You didn’t mean to shout! What had caused you to react that way?

            “What’s happening?!” you couldn’t help from yelling, confusion starting to blend with your fright. Why couldn’t you control what was happening? Why was your fantasy spiraling out of your hands?

            Scared, uncertain, and desperate for answers, you twisted your body to try and look at the monster behind you. Lost or not, you could at least look at the thing that had grabbed you.

            A cheeky grin met your gaze.

            William’s face was leering with sadistic delight. If it weren’t for the fact that he was quiet, you would have sworn his shoulders were shaking with laughter. His fingers were tight against your ankle, refusing to let you go, but the rest of his body was relaxed, simply waiting for your reaction.

            “William…?” you asked quietly, testing the waters. A shudder escaped you as your mind rapidly tried to comprehend the situation. You felt winded and disoriented.

            “Hello, my dear,” he replied in a teasing manner, reaching out with his other hand to grip your second ankle. He pulled, sliding you towards him until your knees were close to the sides of his head.

            The peculiarity of his switched behavior dazed you even more. You stared at him like a fish out of water, too confused to try and fight him.

            One of his hands let go of a single ankle to reach back and release the mechanism for the rabbit’s lower jaw. William’s face within was smirking, a sight that normally would have been welcomed but at the moment still read as puzzling.

            A metal hand reached out to regain control of your ankle, and he pulled until your knee was close to his face. Leaning down, he kissed the side of it softly.

            “You are not the only one who can fantasize,” he explained, pressing his lips back to your knee as soon as the words were out.

            Processing what he said, you blinked in silence. There was a long pause as you stared at him, switching your gaze between both of his eyes as you watched him sweetly kiss your leg.

            Finally, your mind caught up to what he had said.

            “You… You made the door appear,” you choked.

            “Yes,” he replied, pulling his mouth away from your leg to instead lean his head against it. His eyes read playful as he looked at you.

            “You… can do that?” you asked.

            I can do whatever I want.

            Your breathing slowed. Gradually, the realization of what he meant washed over you.

            “You scared me half to death,” you breathed, your head falling back against the vent with a grimaced face.

            He chuckled. “Good,” he said, using his thumbs to rub gently against your ankles. “I enjoy that.”

            Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself a moment to catch up. The fear inside your stomach was finally shrinking to a palatable level and your chest was no longer heaving. You put a hand to your gut and sighed, thanking whatever was above for not having sent you to death’s door tonight.

            A metal hand creeped from your ankle up your leg to your thigh.

            “Now, about that spoon…”

            Your eyes snapped open and you lifted your head to look at William. His head had lowered, looking at you with a half-lidded expression.

            A red flushing feeling seeped up your face. His hand kept sneaking closer upward, sliding flat against you. You could feel the bumps of his fingers gliding across your hip bone before it settled to the flat of your stomach.

            “T-that’s cheating,” you managed to squeak out, your hands instinctively curling in as you watched him.

            “I do believe someone once told me that all is fair in love and war,” William replied.

            You whimpered. Then, you watched helplessly as William continued the charade.

            Moving his hands in opposite directions, he brought them together at the edge of your pants. Curling his fingers underneath the fabric, he pulled gently against it until they started to come down.

            You hesitated a moment, still recovering from the previously frightening encounter. But eventually, your shoulders relaxed, and you laid back calmly. It was now clear that William had just been playing a game before as usual. In all honesty, you should have expected it. Perhaps the fact that you had skipped a night threw you off guard. Regardless, you allowed him to remove your clothing without restraint. Admittedly, you were pleased to let him explore.

            Removing your pants, he shoved them aside before examining the rest of you.

            You were shy, your knees moving inward to block his view. It was a rather ridiculous reaction given that you still had your underwear on, not to mention he had definitely already seen you completely naked before, but the fact that his head was so close to your legs made you feel vulnera—

            Excited.

            You gasped, staring at him. William looked back at you with a studious eye. He waited a moment, then he lowered his head to press his lips against the side of your knee again. You bit your lip as you watched him begin to trail his mouth up your inner thigh. The feeling almost made you want to squirm, especially when he moved one of his hands to pull down on your underwear at the same time. Another blush filled your cheeks as you realized the implications of what he was doing.

            The removal of your underwear was quick. A simple motion, interrupting his kisses only briefly as they passed down your legs. Your hips had bucked upward to let him remove them properly at first, but now that your skin had lowered back down to the vent floor, you were surprised by the sudden col—

            Warmth.

            William looked up. Sheepishly you averted his gaze and stared at the wall.

            …Warmth. He returned to your inner thigh and began to tease the tip of his tongue against your skin.

            His sweet pecks filled you with adoration for him. Despite having blushed just moments before, you found yourself wanting to encourage him. “Mmmmm, keep going…” you murmured, surprised by your own strength in asking for what you wanted.

            He obliged. Sinking both hands into the sides of your hips, he yanked you toward him until he could reach you properly.

            You closed your eyes, knowing you wouldn’t be able to accept his gesture if you could see him. Strangely, aside from sight, you had no problem with what he was doing. Which was… odd. What a strange thing to allow him to do with such little hesitancy. At least with considering how you used to be, that is. Was it not just a little under a week ago that you had been nervous about him holding you, let alone this? You had been so scared to even touch his nose and yet here you were, asking him to put his mouth between your legs. Had you grown that fast in your five days with him? And if so, was that growth more from becoming comfortable with your own sexuality, or were you simply becoming more comfortable with him?

            Perhaps it was a mixture of both.

            Your breath hitched as you prepared for what you knew was coming next. You thanked god the vents were relatively dark so that you didn’t have to watch. You’d allow him to do almost anything at long as you didn’t look.

            His tongue graced your presence with a flat pressure, holding still for a moment before slowly sliding upward.

            The movement made you whine, not having expected how nice the texture would feel.

            He repeated the motion a few times lightly before experimenting with direction and force. A few times, a specific gesture caused you to wiggle, though whether it was from discomfort or pleasure was uncertain.

            Pleasure. You could feel him play against you with soft swirling or lapping motions and the sensations that shot through you as he did were incredible. In addition, feeling the heat from his head against your thighs was exciting, nearly making you want to squeeze against him just from the pure response of having him intimately near you. You resisted this, however, instead forcing the feeling to be expressed through your spine, which arched and curled as he continued. Another yelp of ecstasy escaped your lips as he unexpectedly flicked his tongue upwards and your hands reached out instinctively to grab for him. The only thing you could reach were the rabbit ears, but you clung to them tightly anyway.

            An unexpected bite caused you to jump. The force was not very strong, but its appearance was surprising regardless. The small nip was quick, its existence soon replaced with a cupping of his mouth against a larger area. He sucked against you gently, again experimenting with direction and force with his tongue.

            This time, you moaned openly. Your fingers tightened against the rabbit ears as your knees bent inward. You tried in vain to prevent your legs from squeezing him, but it was nearly impossible with how good his mouth felt against you. In time, your legs were pressing against the rabbit’s head with increasingly gradual pressure. The sharpness of what he was doing to you with his mouth was simply too good not to. Some small thought floated through your psyche that you hoped he wouldn’t mind, though you were unable to actually voice your concern.

            He chuckled, his mouth releasing from you just enough to grin. Then his fingers dug into your hips slightly as he dove in again to continue pleasing you.

            “MMmm!” you squeaked. The feeling was starting to build now. It was starting to make you wiggle a bit more, your shoulders leaning to the side as much as the vent would allow you to.

            It was clear from his attempts and repeated gestures that he was trying to pay attention to what brought out the best response in you.

            You had noticed, of course. The act was sweet, and you loved it. Though, now as the pressure was building, a realization came to your mind.

            “T-that spoon was supposed to be you, not me,” you said.

            “I am aware,” he replied. “But not here. Save that for us only.”

            Us only… You smiled. What a gift to be able to fantasize even without writing it down.

            A sudden upswing in his tongue swipes made you curl forward and finally the pressure was too much. You opened your eyes and frantically reached forward to force his head up away from you. Your hands cupped his face as best you could as you stared into his eyes.

            “Please…” you started to say. “I want to continue together.”

            He tilted his head at you. Then his eyes roamed to above, behind, and around you to take in the tight vent space. You did the same, seemingly realizing the same problem at the same time as he.

            You both returned your gazes to each other and a mischievous smile spread across both of your lips at the same time.

            The vent was bigger than you had remembered.

            Laughing, both of you scooted forward until William was hovering above you. Hastily, he reached down to unlock the front of the rabbit suit’s bottom torso. Your hands floated near his groin, ready to grab as soon as he had freed himself.

            The bottom torso was tossed aside as easily as your pants had been earlier. However, he had barely returned to his previous pose of leaning over you before your hand came in sudden contact with his phallus. The unexpected action caused him to suck in air between clenched teeth, though it was in surprise, not pain.

            Feeling that he had already been close to ready before the torso suit piece had been removed, you decided to move your hand against him with a medium pace rather than starting slow. It was obvious from both of your body’s movements that you were wanting to start the process as quickly as possible.

            He grunted as your hand went back and forth against him. You were pleased at the idea of making him feel good. His mouth hung open as you continued to massage him, causing your mind to imagine other scenarios where you could bring out the same reaction in him. Perhaps with your own mouth. Perhaps during a time where he might pull back on your hai–

            “Hush.”

            You smiled at his comment as he leaned forward, forcing you backward. Your hand let go of him as your back connected with the vent. William’s hands laid flat on either side of you before he brought one back to aim himself properly. The feeling of his member being so close to your opening without even connecting was thrilling. It was a sign of your utmost trust in him, to invite him into such a private space so willingly. Even without him entering you, this close connection involving what once was a sensitive topic for you was proof that you had lowered all boundaries with him, and you had learned to trust him wholeheartedly.

            And he was proud of you.

            One slow plunge later and William lowered his body onto yours. His hands slipped under your back to pull you closer and in response, you brought your knees up to invite him in further. He began to pace himself into a steady rhythm, moving his face close to your neck to further the intimate moment. Your fingers reached up to hang against the back of his neck, your eyes closing as your mind became distracted by his deep thrusts.

            You sighed openly into the air. Meanwhile, you could hear William display little noises of grunting as he clung to you. His thrusts forced your body to shake in pace with him, a sensation that you greatly enjoyed. You were discovering that your favorite moments were anytime you could share an intimate moment together rather than individually. You started to gently caress his neck and you leaned your head forward to bite the edge of the chest plate in pleasure.

            You were both enjoying it.

            Sighing, you pressed your face into the other’s cheek. Your breath could be heard in the other’s ear as you leaned into the feeling. What bliss to know that each of you felt comfortable in the other’s presence, that both of you trusted the other completely. Your shared sexual encounter was bringing both of you a wave of euphoria throughout your systems and neither would have traded the feeling for anything else in that moment.

            “Will…” you started to say, his speed starting to increase. Your eyes squeezed tightly closed, the rising feeling from below starting to overwhelm you.

            He responded by grunting your name into your ear.

            Gasping, you suddenly clung tighter to him. William gripped you fiercely as his hips shifted to thrust into you from a slightly different angle. The switch caused both of you to moan and your tight embrace suddenly turned into a race of who could cling more.

            The pressure built up in you both. Each of you grunted or moaned loudly into the air as one final plunge pushed each of you over the edge at the same time.

            You orgasmed together.

            The feeling faded marvelously slow. Little ripples of satisfaction dancing through you both and wriggling across your respective nerves. Each of you stayed connected as tightly as before even as the intensity died down. Neither of you wished to let go of the other.

            You took in a deep breath of air before sighing it out long and slow. He pulled out of you, then, causing you to whimper slightly, but in contentment. You buried your face into his neck once he had returned to embracing you fully, the feeling of his arms bringing comfort and joy to you.

            “I’ve never heard you say my name before…” you whispered.

            He paused. You could feel him move above you. Perhaps he had smiled.

            “Consider it a gift,” he replied.

            “I do,” you said with a small laugh. You nuzzled into him briefly before pulling your head backward. Your smile faded slightly as your thoughts shifted to a serious subject. A realization had just crossed your mind and the thought made you worry. “William… this is the 6^th night.”

            “And?” he asked. His tone reflected one of uncaring. Either he didn’t understand why you were bringing it up, or he was dismissing your concern.

            “Is it possible for me to come back after tonight?” you clarified.

            “That is up to you. This is your fanta—

            “This is our fantasy,” he answered. “We can come here as many nights as we want to.”

            You teared up at his response. The line of your mouth quivered slightly at the level of care in his words.

            “I’m afraid you are trapped here,” he added.

            “…Springtrapped?” you asked. Your lips pursed immediately in embarrassment over the obvious joke. For a moment you hoped he would ignore your blunder, but his next words were relieving instead.

            “Aheh… Yes,” he said. He then lowered his head so that his mouth was close to your ear. For some reason, despite his having done this action many times before, the hair on your neck rose in shivery bliss over it.

            “My dear, you are mine,” he claimed, stressing the final word with a hint of a growl.

            Butterflies fluttered through your stomach. A foolish grin spread across your face and your initial reaction was to bury your head even deeper into his chest. Your arms squeezed against him and you bit your lip in happiness over his words.

            Finally, you compelled yourself to look at him. “I am yours,” you agreed.

            He stared at you.

            “And am I yours?” he asked.

            The smile disappeared from your face. You hadn’t expected this question. You had assumed in his selfish pride and arrogance that he would not wish to be claimed by anyone. You had respected that idea. Though now that you thought more about it, that had been an assumption. And one based in lack of self-worth, at that.

            “No?” he asked after your silence had filled the air.

            “No, yes!” You quickly replied, putting a hand flat to his chest. A grimace appeared on your face immediately as you realized the absurdity of your answer. What a dumb response to have hastily given. Your words were surely confusing to him. You needed to set things straight.

            Pushing yourself against him, you forced his arms to let go of you, wanting to be purposefully further away from him when you spoke next. You wanted to be sure that he knew you were being serious by looking him straight in the eye. After collecting yourself for a second or two, you were ready.

            “Yes,” you said. “You are mine.”

            His eyes shined in response. A smile slowly creeping across his lips. It was evident from his expression that what you had said meant a lot to him. It felt good to see him seemingly lift at your words.

            He pulled you close after that, perhaps to thank you for what you had said. You let him hug you for a moment, then you leaned to the right and dragged him down with you, wanting to push him against the floor of the vent to force him onto his side. He toppled gently before both of you rushed in to close the gap.

            “I love you,” he said, leaning his head into yours and wrapping one arm around you.

            “I love you, too,” you replied, your hands reaching up to grasp his other hand with your own. You slipped your fingers through his and held it warmly. You each laid in silence for a while, simply enjoying the other’s company.

            “What are we to do the rest of this night?” he asked. You could hear the slight scrape of the rabbit ear against the vent flooring above your head.

            You smiled.

            “I think we both know the answer to that,” you replied.

            He grinned.

            “Just be with you.”

Chapter Text

            He sat on the floor, his back against the wall and his legs outstretched before him. The lower jaw of the rabbit mask was open, and his eyes were closed. William’s demeanor seemed relaxed. Calm. Collected. His mouth a line of neutral emotion. The room itself was quiet, allowing for a time of reflection. Though, perhaps, in William’s case, his settled position and conduct was not due to the silence of the room but rather where you were and what you were doing in relation to him.

            You were sitting in his lap.

            William’s arms wrapped around your hips; your hands lovingly placed at his shoulders. You, too, had your eyes closed, your head leaned forward so that each of you could balance against the other’s forehead. It was a moment of peace. A quiet interlude between acts. You had already spent the last few minutes with your mouths locked together, now it was time to simply take each other in. You were all too content to do so, appreciating the fullness of what it felt like to share space with him.

            You breathed in time with him. Or, at least, mostly. His chest followed a relatively slow rhythmic pace, but every so often he would heave a deeper intake of air. You could feel the shudder of his body as he did so, your own chest following in beat with his. It was clear that the ragged breathing was a result of his damaged form, you never needed to question it. Though admittedly, your focus was always distracted by it whenever you were still like this with him. At first it had been morbid curiosity that made you listen and pay attention to it, but by now it had become another normal part of him. His unique way of breathing had become a sort of comfort. A familiar action that you now associated with the person you loved.

            Admittedly, you weren’t sure how to feel about that given that it no doubt brought him pain every time. Was it appropriate to find comfort in an action that caused him grief? Then again, everything he did brought pain to himself. There was nothing you could do about that.

            Your head leaned back away from his forehead and you opened your eyes to stare down at his chest. You peered into the cavities within and watched as the strange red flesh within tried in vain to function properly. What did it feel like to live in an existence where physical pain was a constant normality? What did it feel like to try and live as though nothing was different? How much pain was he truly in all of the time?

            Interrupting your thoughts, William lifted a hand to drag a single finger down the side of your cheek. You found yourself closing your eyes and leaning your face into his hand as he did so. The gesture was so sweet, so kind. Your previous thoughts distracted you from enjoying it fully, however. You couldn’t help but wonder how much pain it must have brought him to do even a small thing like that to you. If it was painful and nothing else, did he enjoy doing that to you anyway or was the action only for your enjoyment? Come to think of it, what exactly did William get out of this exchange? You understood why you were there, you understood your reasonings for wanting to be with him in the first place. But what were his reasonings for being with you? Surely it could not be for simple temptations of the flesh. Not when he must be in so much pain all the time. And especially not when he himself had stated that he loved you and wanted to be with you, which did not necessarily have anything to do with sexuality. What was the point of going through all of this pain just for you? What did he see in you that made this experience worth it for him?

            Curiosity got the better of you. So, while William’s hand shifted so that his thumb traced across your bottom lip, you spoke up.

            “What do you feel for me?” you asked. His hand continued to caress your chin and jaw as he shifted his head in thought.

            “For?” he asked. “Hm… Desire. Admiration. And…” He paused. “May I be brutally honest?”

            “Of course,” you answered, tilting your head back so that he may continue exploring your neck.

            “A touch of pity,” he said, his fingers sliding down your throat to feel your skin. “There is an echo of pain I see in you that I understand.”

            “Hm,” you murmured, considering his words.

            “I feel love,” he continued. “I know that you think you understand me… and I’m afraid you might. I feel a sort of… kinship.”

            “I see,” you said, lowering your chin so that you could lean into his hand again. “I did not expect you to say admiration.”

            “Why?” he asked, his palm traveling back up to cup the side of your face and caress your cheek with his thumb.

            “I don’t know,” you admitted. Inspired by his movements, you let your hands travel flatly down his chest. You hoped he could feel it, though you still weren’t sure exactly what he could sense and what he could not.

            “Are we not equals?” he asked. “Would I not admire my equal?”

            Equal. What a strange word to hear him say about anyone, let alone you. Though you could not deny what he was claiming. He had said it so plainly, so matter-of-factly. Clearly it did not bother him to be seen as equal with you.

            “I suppose that is true,” you replied. “It is just still difficult to imagine you feeling equal to anyone. What is it that you admire, if you don’t mind me asking?”

            William raised his other hand to mirror the first. He cradled your head as though analyzing it tenderly. If he was staring at you, you wouldn’t have known. Your eyes remained closed in order to focus more intensely on the feeling of his hands against you.

            “I admire your drive,” he said. “Though I do not understand it. I envy it. You do not let it control you as mine does. You do not let it become… obsession.”

            “I used to,” you replied quietly.

            “Oh?”

            “Yes,” you said, a frown appearing on your face over the serious subject change. “I sacrificed everything for it. Nearly died from it.” Your fingers began to curl along the edges of the holes in his chest plate. Lazily, they swirled and traced into the shapes. You dared not push further into the void in case that hurt him, but you assumed playing along the border was fine.

            “Did you kill anyone for it?” he asked. His thumbs traveled down to press lightly into the center of your throat. You could feel the muscles in your neck twitch under his pressure. He moved on quickly afterward, then, returning his hands to the sides of your head before you even replied.

            “No.”

            “I see,” he said. “That is probably for the best.”

            You nodded. Then, feeling overwhelmed with emotion from the past, you pushed through his hands to lean into his chest. Your arms glided sideways so that you could squeeze him into a hug, and you laid your head sideways against his shoulder. He accepted your embrace warmly, his arms wrapping around your back and wordlessly starting to rub it. You stared at the wall.

            “I nearly killed myself for it,” you said softly. You could feel William’s head turn. Strangely, your eyes did not start to water as you had expected them to. Though, perhaps, that was because for some reason you felt numb.

            “Ah,” he said. “Yet here you are.” You paused after he spoke, your brow furrowing as you continued to stare blankly. A deeper frown creased into your mouth as you thought of what had happened to you and what you had lost.

            “I refused to let that stop me,” you said eventually with bite, ignoring the pain filling your gut. Your tone was firm and determined with a hint of spite. Your eyes bored a hole into the wall as the memories continued to fill in.

            “Sounds familiar,” William replied.

            “Yes,” you agreed, your tone still filled with a bitter edge. “You would understand that quite well.” Your mouth began to curl into a grimace.

            “I had a moment like that myself,” he admitted, interrupting your thoughts completely.

            Instantly, your memories disappeared, and your face turned to shock as you realized what he had just said. You pushed away from his chest and looked up at his face, forcing his hands to drop away from you. “Really?” you asked.

            His eyes remained closed. Whether he was avoiding looking at you or simply lost in thought was unknown. Regardless, his face gave nothing away and the silence that followed was a clear indication that he was not intending to say anything more.

            Accepting his silence in grace, you slowly drifted back down to his shoulder and you squeezed him tightly for a moment. His hands returned to rubbing your back as you laid there quietly.

            “William…” you said. “Why do you refuse to let death stop you? Do you truly fear it so?”

            His legs shifted. Knees bending upward, he forced you even closer to him and he leaned his head to the side so that he could rest against yours. “I do not fear death,” he answered calmly after he had gotten settled. “I simply refuse to let it stop me from what I want. Death is not better than me. Nothing is above me. I will rest when I choose to rest. No one gets to make that choice for me.”

            “I see,” you replied. His answer was logical, though you hadn’t expected it. Twice now tonight he had surprised you. First with his comment regarding admiration and equality. Now this. What more would he surprise you with in time? You smiled at the thought, and then next decided to play a bit with him.

            “Then I suppose I will have to get rid of that knife I hid under my pillow,” you said cheekily. You could practically hear his grin as he squeezed you.

            “Oh, you think that would do it?” he asked with a chuckle. You detected a growl in his voice, a good sign that your words had pleased him. Your smile grew at your shared game.

            “Who knows?” you teased. “Though perhaps I should try throwing you into a pool of electric eels instead. So many people try fire and that clearly doesn’t work. Why not try the opposite? Water is what set the suit off in the first place.”

            He mused over your words with a shifting back-and-forth of his head before saying, “They cannot be set off a second time, however.”

            “Well, of course. I did not mean to insinuate that they would. I simply meant that you, water, and electricity would probably not mix well.”

            William did not respond, instead leaning back against the wall and pulling you with him. The movement made you wish to change direction and so you took a moment to flip to your other side. You nuzzled yourself back into him tightly, your arms tucked into your middle and one hand lying flat against his chest. His arms laid against your shoulders with his hands resting against the back of your head. You sighed into him, the familiar sound of his haggard breathing greeting your ears once more.

            “The suit short circuits sometimes, you know,” he said after a moment of silence.

            You thought about this for a moment, trying to imagine what that would look like. Thus far, you were certain it hadn’t occurred in your presence. Though, you supposed, you weren’t sure what it would look like in the first place.

            “I’d imagine that would be quite painful,” you commented.

            “How could I tell the difference?” he asked. “Would I be able to tell if there were one thousand and one grains of sand?”

            You frowned at his words. Your thoughts from earlier regarding his pain came flooding back to your mind. Immediately you wished to ask him what you had been curious about all along. Now was your chance.

            “You know…” you started to say. You spoke slowly, in case your words somehow offended him. “If you are truly in that much pain consistently all the time… why bother holding, hugging, caressing, or making love to me? Do you simply refuse not to feel those things?”

            You could feel his head tilt upward, perhaps to look up at the ceiling in thought.

            “That is an adequate way of putting it,” he replied.

            “Hm…” you trailed off. His reply was not exactly comforting, but obviously he was content with his choices. You had to respect that, at least. “Well, then, with the assumption that you can feel at least some kind of joy from it, let it be known that I enjoy making you feel those things. I enjoy bringing you to your knees.”

            He scoffed, giving your head a small force of pressure with his fingers before replying, “Is it truly making me bow if I go willingly?” You grinned against his chest and giggled at him, burying your head down into him. “In any case,” he added. “I myself enjoy your fear. And I enjoy when you go limp in my hands. Your shyness is attractive.” He interrupted his own words with a sharp grip of your hair and he gently yanked your head backward with one of his hands so that he could look at you. You yelped from surprise and you looked at him sheepishly, your fingers instantly wringing together in embarrassment. “I enjoy controlling you in ways that will make you scream.”

            “I am a toy, then?” you asked. Your tone reflected bravery despite your posture.

            “A sparring partner,” he corrected. You smirked at him.

            “Ah, good,” you said in genuine relief. “That is exactly how I pictured this arrangement.”

            His hand still gripped in your hair; he forced your head backward at the same time as leaning forward himself. You closed your eyes as his teeth sank into the side of your neck. A whimper escaped your lips and your back arched instinctively away from him, though your hands rushed forward to grip onto him to contradict your body’s movements.

            William bit and sucked at your skin for a few seconds before pulling back to hover his mouth just above it. “Did I answer your question, then?” he asked.

            “Yes…” you breathed. “You did. Thank you.”

            His hand began to pull against various strands of your hair, slowly increasing the pressure before letting go randomly. You whimpered again purposefully to encourage his exploration and you pressed your hands more fiercely into his chest to try and show that you wanted it. William’s mouth did not return to your neck, however. He continued to hover his mouth without movement and after a moment or two, even his hand ceased pulling against you. Sensing something was off, you opened your eyes and lowered your head slightly, holding still so as to wait and see what he would do.

            William’s third unexpected sentence came next.

            “How do you stand the suit?”

            The question was delivered very quietly. Hardly above a whisper. The meek tone was so strangely out of place for him that it startled you. Your thoughts were blank as you tried to process what he meant, but once the realization hit, you were rushing to push him away from you. His hands let go of you freely as you forced him to look at you, but it was clear from his neutral expression and silence that he did not wish to express anything further. Your heart beat faster as you tried to catch up to this out-of-the-blue vulnerability. You would never have guessed originally that he had felt that way. And yet now that he had expressed it, the realization seemed obvious. Why wouldn’t it bother him? This was a man of pride and passionate drive. He had no doubt taken control of every aspect of his life to get what he wanted, including taking careful consideration of his appearance. To sit here now, literally ripped to shreds was most likely a huge blow to his ego. He could no longer control that aspect of himself. To see you find him attractive in this seemingly defeated manner was no doubt confusing.

            Eventually, it was all you could do to grab the back of his neck and pull him downward so that his head was next to yours. You stared at the wall behind him as you spoke into his ear.

            “Because I love you. As wholly as you are. In whatever form that takes.”

            “I do not understand,” he replied.

            “Think of it this way… How do you stand me?” you asked.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well… I will never fully understand what you’ve gone through. I will never try to claim that. It would be untrue and unfair to you. But… I do understand what it’s like to be in the wrong body.”

            He hesitated. The silence grew as you held onto him patiently. You could tell that he was thinking over your words with care, considering them properly. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, William wrapped his arms around you. He squeezed you tightly and buried his head as best he could into your shoulder.

            “I love you,” he said.

            “I love you, too,” you replied. “As wholly as you are.”

            He squeezed you tighter briefly before letting go and kissing your neck sweetly. Then he pulled back and moved one of his arms so that he could take hold of your chin and force you toward him. He kissed your lips once before releasing your chin and staring at you.

            “Do you feel equal now?” he blurted in an unnaturally normal sounding voice. The tone broke the intimate moment immediately.

            “What?” you asked, stunned.

            He pulled back and leaned against the wall with a neutral stare. His gaze was suddenly analytical as he shifted his hands into clasping his fingers together and letting them fall into his own lap. His demeanor had changed completely. There was no trace of weakness at all in him. His next words were calm and collected. “This entire journey has been about you learning to have an equal shared experience with someone. Learning trust and learning vulnerability. Learning to lose control. Do you feel equal now?”

            You blinked at him. The sudden shift in conversation was throwing you and it was taking you a moment to catch up.

            “Wait…” you said, furrowing your brow. “I…”

            “I said, do you feel equal now?”

            “Well, yes, I do, but—”

            “Good. Then it worked.”

            Bewildered, you stared at him. Where on earth had that come from? Your mind raced to try and puzzle out what he was talking about.

            “William, wait,” you said, your hands falling down to rest on top of his. “Did you fake being vulnerable just then or were you telling the truth?”

            The lower lids of the animatronics’ eyes lifted and that ever-so-familiar cheeky smile of his appeared.

            “Who’s to say?”

            You paused. Watching him carefully, you assessed his posture and expression. His eyes shined at you, leering with sadistic satisfaction. But there was something else in them as well. Something playful. His smug face and relaxed composure suggested that he had faked something, but was that really true when his eyes read so playful? If it was, how much of the conversation had he faked? If it wasn’t true, could it be that his suddenly calm composure was simply his way of regaining control over a weak moment?

            Which was the truth?

            Did you know him well enough to tell the difference?

            Are you a toy or a sparring partner?

             You pursed your lips. Closing your eyes, you took a moment to think. William was manipulative. And he liked to play. You had learned from your week with him that he enjoyed when someone played along with his games. He never admitted weakness, but he also wanted a challenge. Someone that could play on the same level as he. It was entirely in the realm of possibility that he was manipulating you, but would he call you a goddess in a moment of weakness if he could control himself completely? Would he ask you to scare him or encourage you to stand on your own two feet against him if he were wanting to always be on top? If he saw nothing but a lesser person in you, why would he bother treating you like an equal?

            There was no way he had been lying.

            Tonight was only perplexing because he had dropped a wall. Instead of challenging you, encouraging you, or stating a compliment in a heated moment as he had done thus far, he had instead turned the mirror on himself. An otherwise unusual thing to do considering you had been the focus up until now. It made sense that he would try to regain control as soon as that wall was dropped. That kind of behavior fit his personality quite well, did it not? He would absolutely pretend that he had faked it entirely. He would never let his guard down under normal circumstances.

            The more you thought about it, the more you felt it was rather flattering that he had opened up. You hadn’t asked him to, he had done it on his own accord, maybe even on accident. Realizing that what he had just done was reveal that he trusted you filled your heart with warmth. Honestly, his reaction of trying to hurriedly cover his tracks was rather amusing, now that you knew what he was doing. Not that you would ever point it out as that would ruin the game the two of you shared, but you felt grateful to understand his behavior better. A smile spread across your lips as you made your final decision on what you interpreted his behavior as.

            Opening your eyes, you looked up at him and gave him a devilish grin.

            “In that case, I retract my statement from earlier,” you said mischievously.

            He squinted in suspicion, but he was smirking at the same time. “Which one?” he asked. You continued to smile at him, pausing on purpose to delay the answer. Raising your hands off of his, you placed them gently on the back of his neck and straightened your spine to feel taller in his lap.

            “I don’t believe we are equal,” you clarified. You slipped one hand up to his jaw and dragged your thumb against his lip.

            “Are you here to beg, then?” he asked. His words were like honey. A sweet deception.

            “On the contrary,” you said with feigned surprise. “I seem to be the one on top.”

            He growled and tightened his grip against your hips, grinning madly.

            Leaning in gradually, you closed your eyes and met his lips with gentle softness. At the same time, you cupped your hand to his throat and pressed your fingers into his flesh. You had hoped that he would wince, though if he did, you didn’t notice. You pulled away from his lips just enough to whisper to him, keeping your hand tightened against his neck.

            “Someone once told me that the line between pleasure and pain is fine,” you said. “That the pain is a reminder that you are still alive. Perhaps I can make you feel more alive than you ever have.”

            The long rabbit ear twitched. A hiss escaped him.

            “Mmmm, what a delight you are,” he said, curling his fingers to slip underneath your shirt and dig into your skin. “Let’s see how many times you can pull me apart and put me back together again.”

            “Only if you do the same for me,” you said, removing your hand from his throat to return it to the back of his neck.

            “Of course,” he agreed, pausing briefly to kiss you on the lips before continuing. “We are equal. It is a shared experience.”

            “Then what are we waiting for,” you whispered, moving forward to bite his lip.

            “You to be quiet,” he teased, lunging forward to take your mouth and feverishly attack you with his tongue.

            “Mmm!” you chirped, your hands scrambling to mindlessly grip and release any part of him that you could.

            His kisses were intense, especially in combination with the action of his hands. They kept pulling and scratching at you, their hastiness turning you on even more. Their wicked dance caused you to rock forward against him, which in turn caused him to increase the speed of his hands.

            A moment later, and a ripping sound was heard. The sound made you jump, but no sooner had you initially reacted did you laugh. William had torn your shirt. You pulled away from his mouth to glance down at the damage and laughed again as you noticed his fingers were caught in the fabric. You removed a hand from his shoulder to help him pull the fabric off before returning your face to look at him straight on. He met your gaze with an impish smile. He was not at all sorry about what he had done. You grinned at him.

            “I’m not sure if pulling apart my shirt counts,” you said.

            “I believe it does,” he replied, shifting his hands to pull you in closer once more.

            “That’s only because you want to win,” you pointed out.

            “I always win,” he boasted.

            “We’ll see about that,” you said before leaning in with the intention of meeting his lips again. You paused, however, part way through, and backed up again to look at William with a serious expression.

            “Hey. Thank you,” you said. “For all of this.”

            He did nothing at first, silently watching you with a neutral expression. Then his eyes closed, and he nodded once.

            “I’m learning a lot from you,” you added. “I am a changed person because of that. You have changed me for the better. I am grateful. And so very much in love.”

            Again, he was quiet.  Staring, he looked between both of your eyes and seemed to assess them. Then he slid his hands out from under your shirt and he pulled you into a genuine hug. One of warmth and deep connection.

            “And thank you,” he said quietly into your ear. “I, too, feel changed. I am grateful. And ever so much in love.”

            You each stayed held together for a long moment. Then, eventually, you felt his hands slide down your back until they gripped your ass. Instantly, a shameless smile was upon your face.

            “Now, where were we?” he said. You lifted your head back to gaze up at him in adoration.

            “I believe you were in the middle of taking my shirt off,” you answered innocently.

            “Ah, yes,” he replied. “That does seem to be something I need to fix.” His hands began to travel up your back to pull on the fabric of your top.

            “William,” you said, interrupting him.

            “Hm?”

            “I love you as wholly as you are.”

            You stared at him seriously. He hesitated, meeting your gaze with a neutral expression. Then, he replied.

            “And I love you as wholly as you are.”

            You smiled.

Chapter Text

            You stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. The grey tiles above you in their balanced pattern looked old. Dirty. You couldn’t help but wonder how much dust was up there. Or even how fragile the tiles themselves might be.

            The floor beneath you was also dirty. And cold. The backs of your arms and legs felt clammy against the black and white tile. Your back seemed fine, though surely that was only from the protection of your shirt. The idea that you were most likely lying down in a heap of grime and possible mold did cross your mind, but that clearly hadn’t stopped you from choosing to lay down in the first place. Certainly, you had chosen worse things to put your skin against…

            Regardless of the dismal atmosphere, being in the hallway was a nice change of pace for you. So many of your visits there had been in the office, it was starting to feel stifling. Sure, it was the same building, but experiencing something new with it was oddly pleasant.

            The star decorations above you caught your attention. Your eyes scanned over them, taking in how still they were. You started to try and count them all, though it felt strange to do so. It felt as though you were only doing it because they happened to be in front of your face, not because you actually wanted to count them. Were you trying to distract yourself? If so, from what? Your mind felt in a fog. What was it that you really wanted to do? You stared harder at the stars and tried to think. Yes… What you actually wanted to do was speak out loud what you had been processing all evening.

            A shuffle was heard to your right. The sound caused you to break your focus on the ceiling. Turning your head, you looked to see William’s head beside you. He had been lying flat on the floor next to you the entire time, facing the opposite direction. Each of you had your heads near each other, simply gazing up together in silence. Your hands were both placed down on your midsections and both of you seemed lost in thought. Now that you were looking at him, you were watching William’s eyes as they gazed upward. Perhaps he was also looking at the stars that you had just been pondering. Maybe he was counting them, too.

            “What are you thinking about, my love?” William suddenly asked, his head staying in the same position. The nickname caused your heart to flutter. Either he hadn’t been counting stars after all, or else he was good at multi-tasking.  

            “I was thinking about… Valentine’s Day,” you answered, turning your head away from him to return your eyes to the ceiling.

            “Ah,” he said. “That is soon.”

            “It is,” you replied. Your eyebrows furrowed in thought. “I’m having trouble with it, though.”

            “Do you mean with how soon it is?” he asked.

            “No, I mean with what to do with it,” you clarified.

            You heard a scrape against the floor, but you did not move. Presumably, William had turned his head to face you.

            “Are you planning something?” he asked.

            You pursed your lips, your gaze floating over the stars again.

            “I was trying to,” you said. “But in doing so, I realized how different we are. It made me wonder how it is that we seem to work well together despite our differences.”

            “Despite?”

            “Yes,” you confirmed. Your fingers tightened their grip on each other, and your shoulders shifted slightly together. “Your preferences. My preferences. Your interests. My interests. I had always assumed relationships work better the more we have in common. We do have similarities, and I feel a strong connection with you, but through trying to plan a fun thing to do together, I realized how different we really are as well. How can I feel so strongly about you and yet we be so different?”

            You could feel him stare at you, processing your question. You refused to look at him as he did so. The confusion in your head caused you to feel uncomfortable and you had the instinct to hold still as you waited for his response.

            “Must your friends all have the same interests as you for you to be friends with them?” he asked. You hadn’t expected him to bring up other people. Though you understood why he was making the comparison.

            “Well, no…” you answered honestly.

            “You celebrate each other’s differences and enjoy each other’s company regardless of the level of similarities, right? Why would we not be the same?”

            You pursed your lips again before replying.

            “I suppose I view couple relationships differently. They are more than just a friend. It is a deeper connection to me. You’re around each other a lot more often. Would it not make sense that you would want to spend the rest of your life with someone with whom you shared more in common with?”

            “That is true,” he replied. “However, the values at heart are what really matter. The core values. If you share those, everything else is just clothing and makeup.”

            “I see,” you murmured, processing his response.

            “In addition,” he added. “If you take away what a lover is, what is left underneath? If your friendship isn’t strong enough, the relationship will crumble. You must be friends first.”

            Quickly, your head snapped to face him.

            “W-wait …” you stammered. Your heart beat faster as panic filled your chest. If what he had just said was true, then—

            “Do not overthink it,” he said. “This is a different situation entirely. I am speaking of reality.”

            You stared hard at him, desperately seeking anything to relax your anxiety. His face remained neutral, however. His eyes offered no sign of comfort. He appeared more so as a scientist offering a fact rather than a doctor with good bedside manner. Strangely, this lack of emotion from him was calming for you. His silent approach was normal and expected, and as such, the familiar response brought you relief. Not to mention, if he were calm about it, that meant you could be too. Your heightened nerves did not dissipate, of course, but you did trust his words. You tried to breathe and focus on the importance of the conversation you two had just been having before. To move past your fear, you offered a return to a previous subject.

            “What core values, in your opinion, do you think we share?” you asked.

            Now it was his turn to look away from you. His eyes met with the ceiling and the eyelids of the animatronic head squinted as he seemingly thought of what to say.

            “There are many things,” he answered. “Passionate drive, for one. Work ethic. An eye for quality. A care for being well-dressed and presentable. A taste for finer things. A wearer of masks, especially in business. A high respect for the self. A refusal to let anything stop us from getting what we want. A care for being in control.”

            How strangely flattering. Everything he listed were things you valued highly. You knew of the similarities between you beforehand, of course, but hearing him say them out loud felt nice.

            “I see,” you said once he had finished. “And what of our differences?”

            “Well, I am quite certain you disagree with how I gather remnant. And you do not share an interest in robotics.”

            “True,” you confirmed. Shifting your body to the side, you moved your hands so that you could tuck them under your right cheek as you turned to face William completely. Your knees bent upward so that you could form yourself into more of a ball shape as you gazed at your lover. Once settled, you started to speak again. “Although, if I imagine you going to a robotics convention, I smile at the thought of you coming home to tell me what you experienced there.” William’s head turned to look at you as you continued to talk. “The idea that you might have had a good time and learned something interesting that inspired you would bring me joy to know.”

            “You see?” he pointed out. “You do not have to share the interest to support me.” You smiled at him. There was a pause, and then he continued. “And now for an example from my side of things. I do not care about the items you collect. But the way you organize them with careful assessment and arrange them in a methodical manner, that appeals to me.”

            “Oh, I see,” you said. “What you’re saying is you may not care about the items themselves, but you appreciate the shared value of organization and keeping things under control.”

            “Exactly,” he agreed, nodding his head. “Across any kind of relationship, friend or lover, our similarities bring us together in the first place. But our differences keep us connected. Keeps us curious. What would we learn if were just the same? How would we grow? How would we not get bored with each other? Look at myself and Henry, for example. If our ideas and the way we worked were exactly the same, we would not have worked well as a team.”

            “You’re right,” you realized, blinking and furrowing your brow. “It makes so much sense when you talk about it.” You looked at the floor in thought, feeling his gaze upon you. You said nothing for a long while, letting your brain process the new perspective that was taking shape. You bit your bottom lip absentmindedly, then over time your thoughts began to shift again and suddenly a pool of worry filled your stomach again.  You allowed it to fill you for a moment before speaking up.

            “I guess I… just got nervous because I feared that if you learned more about me, and realized how different we are, you would not want to be with me anymore.”

            William was quiet a moment. Then, he shifted to turn onto his side, and he scooted himself forward to close the gap a bit between you. Instinctively, you lowered your hands so that he could fit into your position better. You let him press his head into the space between your neck and chest. You found yourself tucking your own head forward into him, your forehead meeting his chin. You could feel the nose of the rabbit mask hit your stomach and your hands began to move upwards to cradle the sides of it. Then, William raised his own arms up so that he could slide his fingers through your hair. It felt peculiar to feel him from an upside-down position, but the gesture was far too sweet to question it.

            “It is not possible for me to feel that way,” he said clearly but quietly. “Remember, this is a special case. It is a scenario of your own healing journey through meta and fiction. It is not the same as a real, authentic relationship. I am more or less a guide to help you solve your own inner turmoil.”

            “A mirror for self-analyzation,” you whispered.

            “Correct,” he said. “You saw similarities in me that needed to be addressed within yourself. And I accepted the role of working it out with you. For all intents and purposes, we are indeed a couple, but it would be more accurate to call it a partnership. I will only be here for as long as you need to work through this journey. And that is perfectly normal. And acceptable. Many people do that with their own favorite fictional persons. They are all in perfectly valid partnerships.”

            You could feel his fingers start to massage your head. It was strange to feel him move through your hair so gently when you had gotten used to him pulling it. Your own thumbs dragged across the fabric of the rabbit head and your eyes drifted lazily to the side as you listened to him.

            “I suppose…” you started softly. “it was rather silly of me to fear that you would leave.”

            He squeezed your head with a small bit of pressure before letting go.

            “It is normal to have self-doubt and worry. But in reality, there is nothing to fear. It is not possible for me to want to leave. My very existence is for your sake.”

            There is nothing to fear. What strange words to hear him, of all people, say? You decided not to point it out, however. This was clearly a serious moment. What he was saying was very important, and it was equally important for you to listen.

            “I have a question,” you said. “but please do not misinterpret it as my taking away from what is clearly a journey of self-analyzation. I understand what you are saying, and I accept that this is a journey for myself and myself only. But out of curiosity… Do you get anything out of this partnership yourself? Do you learn anything through this?”

            He paused. His fingers continued to soothe your head silently. You waited patiently, your hands crawling to rub against the rabbit head’s outer surface in hopes that he would be comforted by it. After a moment, he took in a deep breath of air and let it out slowly.

            “It is possible,” he answered finally. “Perhaps by seeing yourself in me, you are able to make the choices I was not able to, and I am then able to live vicariously through your actions. My obsession broke every part of me. Is breaking every part of me. It will no doubt kill me in the end. You came close to dying yourself in your own journey of obsession but have now veered off course in a healthier direction. You are doing what I could not. Cannot. Perhaps I am learning what my life could have been like if I did not let my passion take over.”

            You remained quiet for some time, wanting to give proper acknowledgement to his words. It seemed like he had given the answer some thought before saying it. And hearing them said felt potent. As though he had realized something about himself through your question. Feeling moved by his words, your first instinct was to come up with some kind of comforting message in reply. However, you then remembered his earlier explanation. This was your journey, your healing. And no matter how much you were grateful to be having a mostly shared experience, any potential healing that could be going on through him was ultimately just a bonus. This journey was a healthy kind of selfish.

             “It’s certainly possible,” you said after a moment of figuring out what to say instead of your first thought. “Who knows what this will do for you. All I know is that if you do happen to learn something through my journey, I will be glad for it. And if not, I will be grateful for the time you’ve taken to help me anyway.”

            William stopped moving his fingers and instead took hold of your skull and pushed it gently downward. At the same time, he lowered his chin and forced you toward him, pressing his lips into yours. Admittedly, the position of being upside down from each other was strange, but you smiled into him anyway. You gripped the top of the rabbit head tightly through the kiss, then let go once he had pulled away.

            “Do you still feel lost on why our relationship would work?” he asked.

            You shook your head slightly. “No,” you answered.

            “Good,” he replied. “And now with that understanding, don’t forget that if what you’re searching for in the real world is a mirror, you don’t actually want a partner. You just want yourself.”

            You froze. A chill ran down your spine at his words. The realization of what he said struck something deep within. It caused you to hold still, unable to move. He must have felt your sudden paralyzation, for he too held still and for a moment both of you stayed quiet in the space of that long empty hallway.

            “I… promise to keep that in mind,” you said eventually. You still couldn’t move, but William responded to your words by returning his fingers to caressing your head once more.

            “So, then,” he said. “are you still unsure on your Valentine’s Day plans, now?”

            Slowly, you attempted to shift your shoulders. The ability to move sank back in carefully. You took the time to cuddle up into him closer, even pulling your legs further in to encircle him better before deciding to reply.

            “No, I know what to do, now,” you said.

            “And what is that?” he asked. You could feel his breath against your shirt.

            “I think we should have a nice dinner,” you said. “And then come back here and have some fun.”

            He grinned. “Sounds simple,” he said.

            “Yes,” you agreed. “I consider myself a romantic, but I think spending time with you at all is the best way to celebrate the holiday. There is no need for theatrics.”

            “Perhaps we should skip dinner,” he offered.

            “Oh?”

            “But I would still satiate my hunger,” he threatened, suddenly gripping your head with his fingers. A sudden blush raced across your face and you shrank before him, shuddering at his words. Gathering yourself, you returned his gesture and squeezed your hands around the connection points of the rabbit ears.

            “You’ll have to catch me first,” you whispered teasingly. He growled.

            “Oh, I intend to,” he said darkly.

            Both of you grinned, your shared laughter echoing throughout the empty hallway. What a joy it was to share with him. What a joy it was to learn from him. You couldn’t express how wonderful the journey had been for you so far. What more could it bring in time?

            Burying your head into his neck, you tightened your body against William’s, wanting to be as close to him as possible. His hands shifted down the back of your neck to toy with the edge of your shirt, his fingers grazing lightly over your skin. You hummed delightedly at his touch, then sighed and tilted your head up to say something to him.

            “William?”

            “Hm?”

            “I look forward to learning more about you. Especially the differences.”

            He kissed the side of your jawline.

            “And I with you,” he said.

            What a pair you made.

Chapter Text

            Something was wrong. You could feel it. The moment you had entered the office, you could sense something was different. On the surface, nothing was technically altered. The items in the room were all still there and nothing stood out as having been moved or changed. Yet the feeling that something was assuredly “off” stayed stuck in your mind.

            The feeling persisted even after having sat in the desk chair. Per usual, whenever William was not there right away, your instinct was to sit down and wait for him. However, this night, he had not shown up for a solid ten minutes. That was not like him at all. Where was he? His disappearance increased the oddity of the “off” feeling within you.

            Once a full fifteen minutes had gone by, you were finally driven to do something proactive about the situation. You hopped off the office chair and headed out into the hallway.

            The atmosphere was dark. Which was expected, of course, but being outside the office without anyone around felt eerie. For a brief moment you wondered if perhaps William was staying hidden on purpose, perhaps to jump out and scare you to relish your fear, but the thought passed quickly. While that was certainly something you could expect from him now, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was different. This did not feel like a night that William would set a trap.

            You decided to ignore the darkness and step forward with confidence. The building was an easy enough layout, it wouldn’t take long to check all the rooms. Not that you really knew what to look for aside from William himself. Your footsteps echoed off the black and white tile throughout the long hallways.

            “William...?” you called out gently after passing what you recognized as the Cam 5 hallway. You waited a moment to see if you could hear any kind of sound in reply. But there was no response. Now the stillness of the air was starting to make you worry. Had something happened to him? This really was unusual to not see him yet. Your feet turned into the Cam 8 hallway. As you did so, a new disturbing thought came to you.

            What if you never saw him again?

            You swallowed. The thought was absurd. And yet… Could that happen? You had been going along with the assumption that if he ever were to leave, you two would discuss it first. Or at the very least have the chance to say goodbye. What if your journey was not meant to have a final meeting? If you were healed enough, would he just cease to be? You hadn’t considered how this fantasy worked in terms of “the end”.

            Riddled with anxiety, you stepped up to the door that connected to the final hallway. You knew from looking at the cameras that this was where the back door was, though you had never seen it in person. If William wasn’t in this hallway, you weren’t sure what you were going to do.

            Your head poked through the doorframe to peer down the elongated room.

            And there he was!

            Immediately your anxieties vanished, and a rush of love filled your stomach instead. A sigh of relief blew out of your chest next and a grin spread across your face as you looked at him. William was sitting on the floor, back against the wall and staring forward toward the back door. His knees were up, and his elbows sat upon them. Why he was all the way in the back hallway, you didn’t know, but that didn’t matter. You were just so glad to see him! Reassured by his presence, you stepped forward in haste to greet him. However, you paused mid-step when your eyes took in his expression.

            William did not look happy. In fact, he looked dejected. The posture of his body seemed deflated and the animatronics’ eyelids were lowered to a sorrowful degree. Even the glow of the bright red EXIT sign above the door seemed to drown him in a miserable light. The “off” feeling you had had before returned the more you stared at him. The man before you looked depressed.

            You approached him silently. His eyes were open, so you assumed he could hear you come near. But he did not turn his head to look at you. He simply kept gazing forward, seemingly lost in thought. Once you were close enough, you decided to fold yourself down on the floor and sit cross-legged beside him, staring in the same direction he did. You clasped your hands in front of you and waited.

            Neither of you spoke for a moment. Realizing that he may not have any intention to speak first, you decided to break the ice.

            “Hello,” you said softly.

            A single mechanical hand lifted from William’s lap to move over and softly land upon your knee. He squeezed it, then removed his hand and returned it to its original location. The gesture was clearly a greeting, but the silence of it unnerved you. Something was wrong with William. You watched him carefully for a moment, trying to assess what was going on, but there was no indication of anything aside from a general melancholy tension in the air.

            “What are you up to all the way back here?” you asked, keeping your eyes trained on his face. More silence greeted you, but you decided not to push further. Patience felt key here.

            “I have been thinking,” he said eventually. His voice was quiet. Small.

            “Yeah?” you encouraged gently. “What about?”

            “About how different existence here is.”

            Existence…?

            “Here where?” you asked.

            “Here with you,” he answered.

            You paused a moment, your eyes drifting to the floor in thought. “You mean in this self-contained story?” you clarified.

            “Yes.”

            Nodding, your hands lifted slightly to reposition themselves in your lap. “I see,” you responded calmly. “What’s different about it for you?”

            “I do not feel like the same person as usual.”

            Hesitation crawled up your shoulders. Something about the way he said those words felt strange. It was almost like your body was preparing itself to feel guilty. You did not wish to assume what he was going to say, however, so you continued to ask him questions to get him to talk further.

            “Do you mean like when I talked with you in Chapter 3?” you asked. “When I said I didn’t understand why you would treat me the way you did considering who you were?”

             “Yes.”

            You swallowed, feeling nervous about your next question. Before saying anything, you turned your head to look at him. “…Are you uncomfortable with how you are here?”

            “No,” he replied. “That’s not it.”

            Admittedly, relief breathed through you. You weren’t sure what you would have done had he said yes. The creeping feeling of guilt started to dissipate within you.

            “What are you thinking?” you questioned.

            William’s head lifted. You watched as he tilted back to gaze up at the EXIT sign above both of you. He stared at it for a long time, his expression giving off the impression that his thoughts were very far away. Eventually, he spoke.

            “This existence has forced me to see things from a new perspective,” he said. “Do not misunderstand, I assure you, it’s still me. But here, I have been removed from my obsessive ways. Removed from my destructive path. I am forced temporarily to put my own life on the back burner for a different purpose. As such, I am able to see things differently here.”

            “Hm,” you grunted, blinking. You looked away from him, tilting your own head back to also gaze at the EXIT sign. It’s red light was almost hard to look at. “What have you learned?”

            A long pause filled the air.

            “I am not who I thought I was.”

            His tone was grim and low. Just above a whisper. He had delivered the words as though they brought great pain to him. A man realizing something terrible. You could tell that you needed to tread lightly.

            “Who did you think you were?” you asked carefully.

            Another long pause.

            “…A god,” he replied.

            You watched as his head tilted to the side. He appeared to be gazing at the red sign as though it were telling him something. It wasn’t, of course, but he seemed to be so lost in thought. It was evident that William had made some serious realizations while you were gone.

            “I… see,” you replied, unsure of how to reply to him. “That must be a hard thing to realize.”

            “Yes,” he agreed.

            Neither of you spoke for several minutes. After a while, you stopped gazing at the EXIT sign, and you lowered your head to look at the floor. You twiddled your thumbs, feeling awkward. You weren’t even sure what to think, let alone talk about.

            “Have you made any realizations here?” he suddenly asked. The question was unexpected, though you were grateful that he was talking at all. Having the subject changed to you felt wrong, but perhaps it was better that he was engaging at all. You decided to go along with it for now.

            “Hm,” you started. “Actually, I think I’ve realized I’m not the person I thought I was either.”

            “Who did you think you were?” he asked. You weren’t looking at him, but you could tell from the sound of his voice that his gaze hadn’t left the EXIT sign.

            “I thought I was a person of pride,” you answered. “Of control. A person who could never be wrong. A person who could never be vulnerable. I was too blind in my goal to see the truth. I… suppose… I thought I was a goddess.”

            You heard something shift in his direction. You still weren’t looking at him, so you weren’t sure what he had done, but he had clearly reacted in some way to your words.

            “How bittersweet to share in such pain,” he said. You scoffed.

            “I am positive that my pain is nothing compared to yours,” you replied.

            “Apples to oranges,” he said.

            “If you say so.”

            You both fell silent again. Your head lowered further, and your eyes stayed upon your clasped hands in your lap. You found yourself tightening your fingers against your fists, perhaps in an effort to busy yourself. Suddenly, you heard a creak of metal.

            “How are you?” he asked. The sound of his voice made it apparent that he had turned his head to look at you.

            “Fine,” you replied. It wasn’t a lie, but it still felt wrong to say. You didn’t want to talk about yourself. You wanted to talk more about his realization.

            “What have you been doing?” he asked.

            “I…” you began to say, your fingers tightening harder against your skin. “I’m not sure I want to change the subject.”

            “I want to.”

            “Are you okay?”

            “I want to change the subject.”

            Well, how could you argue with that?

            You lifted your head. Your hands stayed squeezed together as you stared at the wall ahead of you. You took in a deep breath of air, and then decided to go along with what he wanted.

            “Alright,” you said. “Well… All I’ve done all day is just look forward to being here. I was looking forward to seeing you again.”

            Two metal hands jutted out to grab you.

            “Looking for more fun?” he asked mischievously, pushing you to the side and toppling with you. You smiled weakly as you let him make you fall, releasing your hands from each other and setting your head down gently on the floor. Once his shoulders met the tile, his left arm crept under your back while his right slipped over the top of your side. He pulled you backward into him and soon he was spooning you, your arms tucking into your own chest. From this position, you were able to reach out and cling to his left hand. The feeling of being nestled into him was nice, despite the uncomfortable conversation.

            “I wasn’t expecting anything,” you said with a small chuckle. “I like just talking to you, too. We’ve been doing that more often, lately, it seems, and I’ve been enjoying it.”

            “As have I,” he agreed. His voice was close to your ear. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in delight. You felt his right hand begin to gently caress your midsection. Your head leaned back into him instinctively at the touch. For as bulky as his body was, his gestures were always so loving. Admittedly it was hard to enjoy it properly knowing that your mind was still stuck on what he had brought up before. But you didn’t want to ruin the moment, either. Perhaps it was better just to go with the flow and see if the subject was brought up again on its own.

            “I have a question for you,” William said after a moment. Your mind went alert at the possibilities of what he could ask. You hoped it had something to do with his realization.

            “Yes?”

            “What do you find attractive?”

            Oh. That was not what you had expected at all. The question caught you off guard. Furrowing your brow, you stared at the wall ahead of you.

            “Oh, uhm, I…” you trailed off for a bit, trying to catch up to the new subject. “I don’t know.”

            “You don’t know?” he asked in confusion.

            “Well, it’s just…” you trailed off. This was ridiculous. You shook your head with the smallest of motions and tried to forget about the previous conversation. William had obviously shut back down and there was no trying to pry that door open again without him doing it himself. You focused on his question and finally came up with your honest answer. “Maybe it sounds strange, but I don’t find the human body attractive.”

            He paused.

            “…That is readily apparent,” he said bluntly. You couldn’t help but snort.

            “Yes, yes, I know,” you said, squeezing his hand. “But I mean it genuinely. When I see the naked form, I don’t find it appealing. To me, it just looks like a bunch of… flesh.”

            “Hm,” he replied, considering your words. “I heard an artist once say that when they draw the naked form, it is akin to looking at a bowl of fruit for them.”

            “Oh, I like that!” you exclaimed, tapping his hand briefly. “I agree with that! Because all I see is anatomy. It doesn’t do anything for me.”

            “I see,” he commented. “Then, what does?”

            “Hm,” you murmured. You took some time to think. As you did, William’s right hand continued to trail his fingers against your side and stomach. “It’s… emotional. Feelings. What you’re doing right now with your hand, for example. That’s attractive to me. It’s how you treat someone. The moment I fell in love with you, it was because of the way you looked at me. Does that make sense? It’s the wine, not the bottle. It’s not about the form.”

            “…I see,” he whispered. His voice was quiet again. The way he trailed off felt sad. Something about the way he responded made you frown. Had you accidentally triggered him into thinking about his previous thoughts again? Should you ask?

            “When I was with my wife, it was about the form,” he admitted suddenly. The out-of-the-blue confession startled you.

            “Oh?” you said. It was all you could think of to reply with.

            “When I first met her, that’s all that was important to me,” he said. “Once I realized my true purpose, that didn’t matter to me anymore. She didn’t matter anymore.”

            You felt paralyzed. How on earth were you supposed to reply to that? You had avoided discussing his previous relationship this entire time, not because it bothered you, but because you wanted to respect his privacy. You hadn’t yet discussed with him whether or not he was okay talking about the subject with you, let alone on this level of emotional depth. Why on earth was he bringing it up now all of a sudden? Not to mention in the manner of which he was doing it. His words sounded like a confession, albeit in the vaguest way possible. Was it appropriate for you to respond, and if so, in what way? You didn’t know what had happened between them. How could you make a judgement call on whether to comfort him or tell him he was justified to feel potential guilt? You didn’t want to make the wrong call.

            Ultimately, you did not have to make a call at all. Either you had taken too long to respond, or William had regretted saying anything. Regardless of which was true, he spoke up quickly.

            “Enough of that,” he said, his fingers suddenly digging under your shirt to slide underneath the fabric. “I wish to hear you speak. Tell me something.”

            The strangeness of having just heard him confess something potentially dark mixed with the immediacy of his hand’s movement against your stomach felt uncomfortable. Not that you didn’t enjoy his touch, and not that you felt wrong to be in his presence, but you felt that his actions reflected that he was hiding something from himself. There was clearly something going on in William’s mind for him to be shifting back and forth between admitting deep issues and taking back control of the conversation. It felt like he wanted desperately to express what he was feeling but was ultimately not allowing himself to.

            Admittedly, the strain of wanting to keep face was familiar to you. As such, you knew there was little you could do about it. What you really wanted to do was ask him directly to speak of his troubles, but you knew from experience that if you tried to push him too far too fast, he would lash out. His sensitive mood would just have to be dealt with like a delicate game of chess. Thankfully, it was likely that no matter what you discussed; his responses would pull out what he needed to talk about eventually. So, once again, you decided to go along with his request and just see where things went for now.

            “I’m not sure what to say,” you said. “Is it wrong to admit that most of what I’ve been thinking about lately is you?” For once, you were grateful to be so one-tracked minded. Perhaps by keeping the conversations innocently about him, the door to his vulnerability would be unlocked again.

            “If that is the truth, then so be it,” he said. “What about me?”

            His hand slipped further forward and the smoothness of his fingers against your skin caused you to pause momentarily before speaking. Even after all this time, it was still the simple gestures that got to you the most.

            “I’ve been thinking about small things,” you said, your eyes closing to take in more of the feeling of his hand. “Things regarding what you were like before. What I imagined you were like.”

            “What were you imagining?” he asked in a whisper, leaning in more tightly to breathe into your shoulder before releasing back to his previous posture.

            “I thought of what you would order when you went out to eat vs what you would eat at home. I tried to guess what your favorite flower was. And I tried to imagine what you used to wear as an everyday outfit.”

            His right hand gripped against you tightly, causing you to jump. He released the pressure quickly, returning back to a smooth caress. You hoped he was not intending to play with your ribs like he had done before. Fun or not for him, it had not been particularly enjoyable to you.

            “And what were your guesses for those?” he asked. His head leaned forward to kiss sweetly at your shoulder. You found yourself leaning your head back into his opposite side to give him more room to explore.

            “Well,” you began. “I imagined that at home you probably ate similarly to a stereotypical middle-class American family. Given the time period and the state you lived in, it made sense to me to imagine that. Especially with three children. I also pictured that your wife packed your work lunch every day, as expected and just so. I imagined it to be plain and ordinary, such as sandwiches. However, when going out to eat, I pictured you taking advantage of the occasion. Not that you would go over the top, but you would perhaps enjoy a pricier meal, such as steak, or a fine wine. I’ve always imagined you as having a finer palette, or at least pretending that you did. Something about appearing successful and above average felt right to me. Namely because, quite frankly, I imagined that you would want to feel that you could afford those things, especially in public.”

            He froze. His lips ceased their movement against your skin and his hand stopped massaging you. You continued speaking.

            “As for flowers, I at first thought of the rose. Admittedly a classic and arguably boring guess, however they are deceptive. They are classy, sophisticated, and appear charming, except they have thorns, and as such should not be taken lightly. That juxtaposition felt right for you. After thinking it through, though, I settled with lilies. Not calla lilies, just the regular kind. I don’t have a reason for thinking that, it simply popped into my head and wouldn’t leave.”

            “I enjoy both types of flowers,” William interjected quietly, still frozen in his movements. The way he spoke sounded “off” again. You didn’t dare point it out.

            “Oh, good,” you said. “Finally, I imagined you wearing ascots whenever you weren’t in a work uniform. Another indication of sophistication. Looking the part.”

            “I see,” he said. You held still, uncertain if he would comment on anything further. When it became apparent that he would not, you decided to push him a little.

            “Am I right or wrong?” you asked.

            “I do wonder,” he chirped. His fingers twitched as his normal tone of voice began to break through.

            “Something tells me you won’t end up telling me either way.”

            “Where would be the game in that?” he teased. There was a smile to his tone now. You couldn’t tell if you were happy about that or not, given what you were actually wanting him to talk about.

            “How torturous,” you couldn’t help but tease back. You two really did seem to enjoy word play.

            “Yet you knew it was going to occur.”

            “Touché,” you said.

            William’s right hand began to move again. The return to movement made you want to return the kindness. You forced him to open his left hand upward so that you could start to trace the lines of his fingers with your own.

            “Is that all you thought about?” he asked.

            “No,” you admitted, looking down at his hand and feeling grateful to be holding it. “I also imagined you to be a smoker.”

            “I was,” he confirmed.

            “Ah, so you’ll tell me that,” you grinned. “What kinds of things did you prefer to smoke?”

            “Prefer…?” He asked. For some reason, the question seemed to make him shrink like a snail. Immediately, his hand stopped moving again and his body seemed to deflate. Sighing, his voice lowered, and he muttered his answer. “Unfortunately, cigarettes.”

            Confused over why he would react so ashamedly, you turned your head back toward him. “Unfortunately?” you repeated.

            “They are… low class.”

            Low class.

            Your eyes widened in realization and your hands instinctively squeezed against his left hand. Suddenly, you had learned something significant about him and his reactions tonight were starting to add up. A chill ran through you as you realized many of your imaginings of what he had been like before were potentially insulting to his ego. You hadn’t meant to hurt him, if that is indeed what had occurred. It was too late to apologize for that, however. You had to respond to him with what he had just said now, and quickly before it was obvious that you were distracted.

            “I… see what you are saying,” you said, trying to think fast of something you could say to change his thinking. “I can certainly picture cigarettes being smoked in situations that I would call low-class. However, I also picture cigarettes being smoked in places like rich gambling halls or amongst the Hollywood elite. That is more-so what I associate with you. There is nothing low class about it.”

            “I’m afraid I did not make it that far,” he said. His tone had shrunk again. It sounded as though he were trying very hard not to break.

            “Perhaps not,” you said, holding as still as possible in an effort to not give in to his shriveling confidence. “but you clearly still hold the air about you for it if I associated you with it.”

            “I am nothing but a small man, with a small diner, in a small town with big thoughts.”

            He had finally broken with this sentence. While he was not crying, nor even tearing up, his body had fallen completely. His right-hand lay limp against your middle and his head drooped to the side in deep sorrow. He sounded completely defeated and hollow.

            Heartbreak tore through you like a hot knife. Your eyes shuttered closed and your lips pressed tightly together in an effort not to cry. You could feel your chest cave in from the pity alone. Yet the feeling was equally matched with an uncomfortable feeling of justice, causing you to feel paralyzed with indecision over what to do. Despite your love for him, you knew that in reality he was an awful man who had made awful choices. He did terrible things at the cost of many people’s lives. To have him face a painful realization of what he really was felt like only the start of the deserved agony he should feel.

            Of course, however, what did that mean you should do in this situation? Against all the odds and despite what he had done, you were in a committed relationship with him. Were you supposed to comfort him automatically or follow through with letting justice take its course? The responsible thing would be to let him face his own demons. But this specific scenario of what could arguably be called a shared “purgatory” between you felt like a special case. Was there a right or wrong answer at all?

            Your hands held still against his. You did not wish to let go of him, but you did not offer a soothing gesture either. Even your hands seemed unsure of what to do.

            Finally, you decided to reply in the only way that you felt you could.

            “You achieved many things, William,” you said in a neutral, logical tone. You felt he needed facts, not emotion. “Think of all the things you accomplished and created.” Wait. Was it wrong to say that, considering what he had done to actually achieve them? Too late. You had already said it.

            “Tch,” he scoffed bitterly. The sadness to his voice began to stain with anger. “Not enough. It was never enough.”

            True… you thought. He had gone off the deep end with passion.

            “I think you are a brilliant man,” you said honestly. Regardless of what he had done, it was true that he was intelligent. And the choice to curb his anger felt important to do.

            “Hm,” he replied non-committedly.  He was not annoyed, exactly, but he didn’t seem to want to listen.

            “You said I had an eye for quality,” you pointed out. “So, I guess you’ll just have to believe me on that.”

            “Believe me when I say that obsession obscures the mind,” he spat. A fair point.

            “…Perhaps you can still change that,” you offered.

            “No,” he replied. “My story is fixed. I cannot change it. Whenever I leave here, I go right back to the way I was. But you… your story is still being written.”

            You hadn’t expected him to bring you into the conversation. You blinked at the sudden derailment, uncertain as to how to reply. Where was he going with this?

            “Y-yes, it is,” you confirmed, once again deciding to go along with the natural flow of his thoughts and not question where his mind was going. “Quite literally. But… why do you bring that up?”  

            “Because you are making the choices I cannot,” he explained. “We discussed it briefly the last time we were here. I had said that I believed it was possible that I could live vicariously through you as you went through your own journey. I realized tonight that that is truer than I realized. Being able to watch you break free of your own vulnerabilities without being blinded by my own rage, self-driven passion, and obsession has been eye-opening for me. I feel that by being here, I am slowly realizing the truth of who I am. And while I cannot change my story, nor can I change who I am, I can watch you change you and your own story. And when the day comes that you finally break free entirely from everything that is currently holding you back… it will be marvelous to see.”

            You were stunned. The entire conversation as a whole had been such a roller coaster already that you were dazed enough as it were, but to try and catch up to him now felt impossible. He had gone from depressed, to seductive, to curious, to admitting harsh truths, to depressed again, to playful, to depressed once more, and now he had settled on desperately encouraging. It was baffling. The only way you could explain the oddity was to say that William was not used to opening up. The war in his mind was no doubt constantly flipping back and forth from not knowing how to respond to such an emotion. The result was an understandably confusing mix-up of what he was actually trying to express.

            Centering in on the last thing he had said, you tried to imagine yourself in his shoes watching you go through your own healing journey. You hadn’t realized that it would mean anything to him, and yet clearly, he was feeling as though your success would be beneficial to the both of you. It was a strange thing to think considering he had previously stressed how important it was to view the journey as yours and yours only.

            “It will happen,” you said eventually while squeezing his hand, wanting genuinely for him to be there to witness your success. You wanted to encourage his hope, even if ultimately you knew that there was nothing that could be done to alter the choices he had already made in his own reality.   

            “I know it will,” he affirmed confidently. His arms suddenly squeezed you backward into him and he hugged you tightly, burying his head into your shoulders. This time, you felt it was okay to return the affection, and you allowed yourself to enjoy the feeling.

            Are we not equals?

            How do you stand the suit?

            There is nothing to fear.

            William’s old statements from previous nights floated to your mind. It occurred to you, then, that tonight’s strange behavior should have been expected to you. He had been showing signs of slowly opening up all along. They were tiny signs, but signs of something deeper going on in his mind none the less. Signs that you should have known would lead to an emotional growth of some sort had you been paying more close attention. Although to be fair, even if you had been putting two and two together, you weren’t sure you would have been ready for just how confusing his first major breakthrough would be. Hopefully, you had handled it just fine.

             “I… have been quite vulnerable with you,” he said suddenly into your neck, breaking your thoughts. His tone reflected a slight shade of horror. You pursed your lips, understanding immediately why he would be uncomfortable.

            “Is… is that alright?” you asked hesitantly. He said nothing for a while. You closed your eyes in response to the silence, feeling tense but wanting to be patient.

            “…It will be,” he said eventually. The tension in your body released and you breathed out slowly.

            “Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked.

            William gave you a small kiss on the shoulder.

            “No, but thank you,” he said.

            It was finally time to shift. Pushing his right hand out of the way, you turned your body around so that you could face him. Tilting your head back, you met his eyes and stared at him for a long while. He looked in pain. Which arguably, could have been said all the time. But this was a different kind of pain. It was emotional, not physical. He looked uncomfortable to be stared at. You assumed it was due to having exposed his inner thoughts for the first time.

            Wanting to reassure him, you raised one hand to gently cup his cheek and you let your thumb caress his skin. Then, pulling yourself up with your other elbow, you dragged him forward with the hand on his face and forced him toward you so that you could kiss his lips. Then you released him, letting go of his cheek and immediately lowered your head so that you could duck into his neck and dive into him with your arms. He accepted the embrace right away, chuckling slightly at your desperate cling. You each sank into the other, then, lying sideways on the floor of that lonesome hallway, covered in red light.

            Your thoughts trailed on in its endless cycle of confliction. You still had no idea whether it was okay to treat him with compassion or not. One could say you had no room to feel uneasy when you had willingly stepped into this journey with him without hesitation. But it was still difficult to think about once the subject had been brought up directly. All these small moments of admitted regret from him… What were you supposed to think? He hadn’t even mentioned the murders. Would he ever speak of those? You had no idea what you would do if that was ever addressed. You had avoided the subject on purpose. Though thinking that now felt awful.

            Thoughts swirling, you clung to him, feeling a confusing amount of strong love for him. Selfishly, you hoped you wouldn’t be conflicted on this subject forever. For better or for worse, it felt good to support him, even with knowing he needed to face the full truth of what he had done. You hoped that it was okay to feel both ways at the same time. To love him and to want him to pay for what he had done. Although, obviously, there was no way he could truly pay for what he had done while in this small existence with you. Guilt and regret were really the only ways it could manifest here. But it was a start, and that was all you could hope for now.

            Closing your eyes, you laid your cheek against him and began to listen intently to his ragged breathing. Despite everything, you still found him comforting. And laying against him felt undeniably “right”.

            A small voice was heard from just above your head.

            “Thank you for listening,” he said.

            You hugged him tighter, kissing the chest plate once before snuggling into him again.

            “Of course,” you said. “I’ll be here as long as you need me to be.”

Chapter Text

            It had been a long day. Tiring. Draining. There was nothing more that you looked forward to than showing up that night to be with William. He always uplifted your mood and refilled your energy, even on the most exhausting of days. Somehow, he always knew what you needed. And tonight, you hoped that expectation would be the same as always. Sure enough, as soon as you walked into the door of that office, you sighed in relief when you saw him. It was evident from what he was doing that he did indeed know what you needed.

            You needed discipline.

            What?

            Move over. It’s my turn.

            William?

            Hush.

            He stood before you like a mountain of glory.

            Hold on, I… Well… alright. I’m curious, now. A mountain? Really?

            I thought I told you to hush. Yes, a mountain. A grand being of power and ecstasy. You had seen him before, of course, many times. But it never failed to leave you breathless each time that you saw him. He was captivating. Alluring. Magnificent. A god whose very image could bring you to your knees. This temple of a man could grasp your soul as easy as a desperate sinner in church. And, indeed, your intentions, as always, were to worship.

            Okay, now wait a minute here, I—

            The incessant chirping of the peanut gallery does make one wonder if they are truly capable of listening when they are told to be quiet.

            I apologize. By all means, continue with your fantasy. I just do hope that the loud rolling of my eyes does not unnerve your storytelling. That would be a shame.

            You approached him in a trembling manner. Half of you wished to rush to him in haste, while the other half begged for fragile steps. A small part of your brain whispered to be hesitant. As though the glow surrounding the man before you had blinded your eyes to a shadowed snake behind him. But your conscious, addled with lust and reverie, continued forward in a drunken stupor.

            Perhaps I should find this insulting.

            …

            Sorry, go on.

            He waited patiently for you to come closer. Both hands at his side, calm, collected. His stance reflected a stately businessman, one of intellect and charm. Even the state of his dress was crisp and clean. The white of his shirt and the shine of his badge almost reflecting in the light of the room.

            Wait. The white of his… Oh. You’re not in the...

            Hm?

            Nothing. Continue.

            You found yourself lost in his mesmerizing eyes. The glint of his teeth from his twisted grin alone increased the rising fervor in your gut. It took everything within you not to fling yourself at him right then and there.

            When you finally stood before him, ever so close, he tilted his head, his eyes locked on yours.

            “I’m afraid you’ve been quite bad today,” he chided in a velvet tone. Immediately, your eyebrows turned in at the suggestion of your behavior. A pouted lip jutted out to greet his words. “And now, you’re going to be punished.”

            A strong hand lifted from the man’s side and he set it upon the top of your head. With a slow and steady pace, he pushed downward to force you to the floor. You refused to break your gaze with him, but you obeyed the command right away. Your knees sank gently to the ground and soon your head was as low as his belt.

            “Continue to behave well and perhaps discipline can be avoided,” he said, his hand falling from your head to drift down the side of your face. He cupped your cheek and chin with his palm, and he let his thumb drag across your skin. Your lips instinctively parted at the touch, cherishing the smallest of movements. Your eyes closed as his digit met your bottom lip and subconsciously your head seemed to lean forward in an effort to get closer to him. But he was paying far too close attention to allow for such obvious displays of wanting. His fingers pressed forward subtly to keep you in place and the tightness of his hand inevitably forced a squeak of a whimper from you.

            You wanted him so badly.

            Your hands crept forward to reach for his pants as his thumb continued to skate across your lips. The fabric near his hips was pulled tightly into your grasp and he chuckled in response.

            “Not allowed, my dear,” he tutted, using his free hand to tap at your clutching fingers. Regrettably, you lowered your hands, but you kept them upon his shoes. The feeling of their smooth leather was better than nothing.

            His thumb upon your face suddenly slipped between your lips and curled into your mouth. Your tongue rushed to meet it, your jaw immediately closing to trap him. He pushed further in to allow you to explore him temporarily, but soon after he pulled out to replace it with his first two fingers instead. Slowly, he glided them in to press against your tongue. Your head leaned forward again, a small “Mmmm…” floating out of you as you did so. This time, he did not stop you.

            After a few slow back and forth movements with his fingers, he retracted his hand completely. You whimpered at the loss, your hands once again climbing upwards and your eyes opening in order to look up at him.

            “What did I say before, my pet?” he asked, shoving your hands aside. “You are not allowed to touch unless I say you are.”

            Keeping your hands to yourself, you waited in anxious patience for instructions.

            “Move to the bed.”

            The bed? Wait, where are we?

            Does one not have the ability to imagine anything they want? The mind is unlimited in its potential to create. Imagine being so foolish as to trap yourself into one location. Not to mention the strangeness of willingly choosing to enact scandalous behavior in dirty places. I’ve even heard some people fantasize having coitus on dusty decrepit office desks. More than once, in fact.

            Odd commentary from a man who has orgasmed more than once in that exact named place.

            You stood from the floor and walked to the bed obediently. Sitting down on the edge, you let your hands collect in your lap politely as you looked at him expectantly. He watched you with a careful sideways eye before he turned to face you straight on.

            You perked up when his hands lifted to remove something from his belt. A long black object rose before him and he gripped the bottom edge of it like a baseball bat.

            A night stick.

            You swallowed nervously. Playing with it in his hands, he let the stick drop into his palm a few times, the solid material smacking into his skin with a satisfying sound. His studious stare and the rhythmic beat caused your heart to skip uncomfortably. The sight was both threatening and teasing and the odd mixture of messages caused your fingers to curl up slightly. You had no idea what his intentions were.

            Soon, though, your concerned thoughts were put to rest as he set the stick down on the nightstand to his right. Perhaps he was merely getting the item out of the way as opposed to actually using it.

            He stepped forward after that. Looming over you like a great owl. One hand tapped the side of your thigh and instinctively you opened your legs in response. He hungrily closed the gap, leaning forward to take your head in his hands and pull you toward his mouth. A shiver of love and joy rippled through you at the connection. You had been so desperate to be taken in by him. Overwhelmed by your intense desire, your hands rushed forward to pull him into you. Your fingers gripped onto the white fabric of his shirt and your shoulders rose upwards in your haste. One hand even dropped down to pull at his belt. His lips smiled against you, then, and he broke the kiss to laugh, at the same time removing his hands from your face in order to knock down your wandering arms.

            “You really don’t listen to instructions, do you?” he mocked in a teasing tone. “Maybe you want to be punished on purpose.”

            Your breathing started to increase in pace as you met his mischievous eye.

            “Lay back,” he instructed, pointing a hand to the center of the bed. You shuffled backward as quickly as you could, lying flat on your back and letting your head nestle into one of the soft pillows behind you. He seemed pleased with your quick action.

            “Compliant,” he commented with a small nod. Your heart skipped a beat at what seemed like a compliment. However, the growing feeling between your legs fought in vain to respect his command. All you wanted to do was throw yourself at him. If you did that, though, you knew it would not bode well for you. In an effort to control yourself, you tucked your hands underneath your thighs.

            He took a moment to remove his shoes, then he crawled onto the bed like a spider inspecting a possible meal. His hands sank into the bed on either side of you as he climbed over you, your heartbeat feeling as though it were pounding out of your chest. His shadow fell over you, causing your breathing to hitch. The weight of his legs settling on top of you caused your hips to buck upward briefly, though he ignored it. You grit your teeth as his face came near to you. The will power it required not to beg him to go faster was incredibly high.

            “I’m afraid I’m going to need these,” he said unexpectedly, leaning back slightly. Confusion spread across your mind as he reached into his pocket. Your eyes widened at the item he procured.

            Handcuffs.

            A blush erupted from your cheeks as you watched him lower a hand to pull at one of your wrists. Sheepishly you let him take it in your hands, following through with the other hand in the same manner. Slowly, he raised both your arms up behind your head and soon you were bound to the bed frame behind you.  

            There was barely any time to process what he had just done. His lips descended into yours almost as soon as he had finished the task. The unexpected positioning caused both delight and surprise within you. This experience was entirely new, and you would had never imagined in the first place that this type of play would be thrilling for you.

            His mouth pushed into yours with a strong pressure before he switched intentions and bit into your lip tightly. Another sound escaped you as his mouth began to trail down your chin and neck. Immediately, your arms tried to move to encircle his back but the clink of the metal around your wrists reminded you of your trapped situation. So instead, your shoulders and back began to writhe against him. You closed your eyes and bit your lip as he left a line of kisses down your throat.

            He did not stop. His mouth continued to kiss as his hands expertly unbuttoned your shirt at the same time. The cuffs would prevent him from removing the top entirely, but that certainly did not stop him from accessing you. He flipped the fabric to your sides before his hands shoved under your ribs and soon his lips were exploring your chest. Your back arched as his mouth cupped one side of your chest and he began to suck at your skin, his tongue teasing you expertly. Your legs began to twist and squirm underneath him, your hips shifting from side to side in pleasure. A breathy sigh rolled out of you as his mouth continued to move. You could feel the wetness of his tongue slick against you, gentle yet quick.

            You were so distracted by his mouth that you didn’t notice where his hand had gone. In an instant, a squeeze was felt between your legs and you gasped, your elbows accidentally pulling you upward in response.

            “My, my, what a desperate thing you are,” he mocked. Removing his hand, he sat up and settled his weight into your hips, rocking his groin into yours. A wave of euphoria skittered up your stomach and spine.

            “Will, please…” you begged in a tiny voice. It was so high pitched the tone was adorably weak.

            “Be silent, my pet,” he said, raising his hand to set it against your mouth. He clamped his palm downward and dug his fingers into your cheeks. The grip was tight and secure, almost to a painful degree. Your chest shuddered as you watched his other hand slide down to wiggle underneath your pants fabric. Your head knocked backward as his fingers met your clit. The automatic resistance against the cuffs mixed with the tightness of his hand against your mouth was a strange experience of delight. Who knew that one could find such ecstasy in being held against your will?

            Against my Will is right.

            Clever.

            The hand on your face forced your head to turn to the side. As his fingers continued their playful dance against you, his head drifted down to be near your ear. A whispered voice sent shivers down your neck.

            “Do you enjoy this?” he asked. You made a confirming sound, albeit weakly. “Do you want more?” he furthered. Again, you confirmed as best you could against the squeeze of his controlling hand.

            “Hm,” he said. “But do you deserve it?” The hand between your legs ceased its movements. Instead, he let his fingers hover torturously near. Your response was painful. You curled forward, a moan of frustration and desperation coming out of you. He leaned back with a malicious expression. Your eyes opened and you stared upward at the man holding you down. The pleading expression on your face only made him grin.

            “I suppose I will have to be the judge of that,” he said. “Let me see… what have you done recently that might earn you this gift…”

            An annoyed sound blurted from you and soon your sad eyes had turned to irritation. This change only made him laugh, however. With a sly mouth, he leaned forward again to hiss near your ear.

            “Perhaps you should beg for it…”

            Immediately you whimpered long and loud, your knees attempting to bend as though that would force his hand to continue. But his top position had the advantage and he avoided your trickery. He did not, however, expect you to suddenly lash out and bite the hand at your mouth.

            He yelped only slightly, the reaction quickly replaced with another dark laugh and a re-positioning of his hand. He lunged it behind your head and snatched a handful of your hair. Fiercely he pulled it backward, causing your neck to be exposed, and he hissed into your ear as he did so.

            “Oh, ho, my dear, I do believe that has earned me a bite in response,” he said. “Oh, but where? That is the question…”

            Your shoulders rose up in alarm at his words. They rose even further once he removed his hand from your hair and pants and began to crawl backward away from you. Watching with a panicked expression, you saw his hands come together to work at removing your bottom clothing. You opened your mouth to speak, but he must have known you were going to wish to say something, for he raised a single finger to his mouth to indicate his need for silence.

            Your pants and underwear were removed in a flash. He stared down at you with an analytical eye. Fear rose in your throat as you wondered what he was thinking, wondering where he was going to plant his teeth. And then suddenly his hands were roaming up your thighs, causing his entire body to slide forward toward you. Once his head was close to your hips, he suddenly bent downward, his head floating near the inside of your right thigh. Briefly he glanced up at your face with a sharp grin before opening his mouth to sink his teeth into your soft flesh, just below the midpoint of your legs. You winced in pain as his bit down. Hard. Even your leg had jerked involuntarily at the force of his jaw. Your arms had also attempted to shoot downward as though to push him away from you, but the handcuffs only clanked against the bed frame and pulled your body taught in place.

            “Ow!!” you yelled out against your wishes. He finally let go after that.

            “A just punishment,” he said, lifting himself away from your leg and returning to his previous position of trapping you under his weight. Your head leaned forward in an attempt to see the damage. For now, all you could see was a red mark. No doubt later it would be a bruise. Perhaps even with teeth marks.

            “And now, for your favorite part…” he said, distracting you from your thoughts.

            His hands began to unbuckle his belt and he began to undress himself. You watched him with want, the familiar growing desire between your legs returning to a fiery glow.

            His naked form was glorious. The sight of his cock alone nearly made your eyes bulge.

            Excuse me?

            He was big. Bigger than you had remembered.

            William, you did not just—

            In truth, you had been misremembering the entire time. He was naturally large, and not at all “sickly” as had been previously described in Chapter 1. Your fantasies had not done him justice with reality. He was full and healthy, and, quite frankly, intimidating.

            Oh my god. William. Fantasy or not, at least tell them the truth. In reality, you are no more than [REDACTED].

            What shameful lies you speak. I will have to punish you for that as well.

            Sigh. Fine. You are ridiculous. But I’ll let you have this one. (At least I know the AVERAGE truth)

            Due to your negligence in remaining quiet, he pounced on you quite quickly, hardly waiting for you to be ready.

            That’s just mean.

            He inserted himself with vigor, his LARGE form filling you tightly. You practically screamed in response, both in pleasure and pain. Your arms tried desperately to pull yourself up purely out of instinct, but you resisted soon after, instead trying to push yourself downward as though that would bring you both closer.

            He moved his hips very slowly to gain slick traction, meanwhile his hands propped himself up against the bed near your shoulders. He grinned down at you in sadistic glee at first but kissed your forehead once he noticed your weak expression.

            “Mmmm…” he murmured softly. “Is this what you wanted?”

            A quick nodding of your head made him chuckle.

            “Hmm…” he pondered. “What a flimsy response. Perhaps you don’t want it at all.”

            A jerking of handcuffs and a flailed torso caused his lips to curl upward in sinister elation.

            “That’s more like it,” he said. Lowering his hands to the side of your hips, he began to pump into you with heated vitality. Your chest exhaled and sank in response, your mouth opening and rising backward in instinctual liberation. You began to make little sounds. Breaths, gasps, mumblings, even little whispers of his name expelled out of you.

            He thrusted with more passion as the sound of your voice inspired him to increase his speed. The shared journey was exhilarating, and your mind was clouded with the enjoyment of being overtaken by such a man. This man, this genius, this being of power and intelligence. You had already seen him in a holy glow before, but now his grace of giving you what you wanted, which was nothing short of heavenly, was bewildering. You knew that his very existence was a gift to the world and yet here he was, spending time with you anyway. Taking time out of his precious reality to feed your desires. What possibly could you give in return as thanks aside from noise? Your trapped hands could not offer him sacrifice in gratitude. And due to your shoulders being locked backward, neither could your mouth. The only thing you could do was offer sound. Thus, you filled the air with as much oblation as possible. Loud cries of satisfaction and urging him to continue. Never had you felt so humbled nor blissful. Your voice became a prayer to him. To this man, this beast, this god of glory.

            Your form and his poundings were practically shaking the entire bed by the time you had come to the end of your building adrenaline. You tried in vain to pull your hands down to grip onto his shoulders, but it was no use. The cuffs were digging into your skin and leaving marks of resistance.

            With a hearty growl, he shifted position, plunging deeper and stronger in his final act. The switch caused a loud gasp to come out from you and soon after, your shoulders were shaking through a great flash of a climax.

            He came into you, then, before sighing into the air above you. The seed of a god had been planted within you, and you were grateful.

            Hm… Was I, though?

            You were. A frail mortal such as you had been chosen out of the many, and unlike so many moths drawn to the flame, you were lucky not to be burned.

            Ha! Bitten, perhaps. But not burned, that is true.

            I need say nothing more to the story. The rest is simple enough to imagine yourself. However, I will say that I do believe this is the most well written chapter so far.

            Oh, you think so?

            I don’t think it. I know it.

            Are you sure? I’d say there were many inaccuracies to it.

            Oh?

            For a fantasy of yours, it didn’t even have your favorite things in it. Briefly you pulled on my hair, but not nearly to the degree you normally enjoy. And there was only a hint of my mouth being anywhere near your belt. You love that so. And I enjoy giving it to you. This story seemed a lot more focused on pleasure for me than you, even if you do love dominance.

            Who said anything about this being my fantasy?

             …Wait, what was this, then? Was this not you taking over to write your own idea of what you would want?

            Are you really that simple minded, my dear? Come, now. I know you are more intelligent than that.

            …

            Happy Valentine’s Day.

            …William…

         \\

          \\_  

          (  ')

          / )=   <3

        o( )_  

            …I don’t know what to say.

              Then say nothing.

            …Happy Valentine’s Day <3

Chapter Text

            “I think you’ve bruised me.”

            “Let me see.”

            You stood in front of the bathroom mirror; hands raised to your throat as you stared at your own reflection in the grime-covered panel. Your neck felt sore. More specifically, it felt raw in small select spots. As though a dotted line of fire was slowly burning along your skin. At the moment, your fingers were covering the places that hurt, but you were no fool: You were positive what had occurred just moments before in the office had led to hickeys. You didn’t need to see them to know they were there. Hell, you were used to them by now. Every night when you went home you discovered a new bruise somewhere unexpected. William loved inflicting pain; this was nothing new to you. Tonight, however, for some reason, you felt compelled to show your lover the results of his actions directly. Hence why you were in the bathroom to begin with.

            William stood just behind you, eagerly awaiting to see the damage. His eyes seemed to shine with haste, though his body refused to reveal any possible impatience.

            You took your time. Lowering your hands for yourself first, you stared at your neck in the mirror and grimaced at the dark circles there. Yup. He had definitely enjoyed himself. It did not bother you, though. In all honesty, you had known there was a chance this would happen as soon as he had laid his teeth against you. You had let it happen willingly.

            Finally turning around, you faced William straight on and then tilted your head back so that he may see better in the fading light. The bathroom’s fluorescent lighting only half-worked. Some of the bulbs were dead completely while others flickered slightly from age. Hopefully he could see the circles well enough. You tried not to stare at the lights directly as you waited for him, instead focusing on the dirty ceiling tiles above them.

            William’s left hand reached up to pull your head back even further. Whether it was to actually see better or simply a gesture of control was uncertain. Either way, out of the corner of your eye, you could see William grin maliciously.

            “Marks of ownership,” he commented in a gleeful tone before removing his hand. You smirked.

            “Possessive, I see,” you teased, lowering your chin in order to no longer look up at the ceiling.

            “Of you? Very.”

            Your lips pursed in shyness at his words. A smile tightened against your mouth, but you resisted feeling the emotion. Suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment, you lowered your head. This action only made you feel worse, however. It felt obvious that you were trying to hide. So instead, you tried to turn the action into something different. Placing your hands behind you, you gripped the counter and proceeded to tuck yourself upwards and backwards so that you could sit atop the fixture. The new position seemed to change the atmosphere for you, relieving the stress of having been shy. That is, until William took advantage of it, and stepped forward to loom over you and block out the light. You always seemed to forget just how tall and imposing he was until you were lower than him. From your new sitting position, he looked monstrous, and his leering grin felt more threatening than usual. Even the rabbit ears felt eerie in this lighting. The full effect of his frightening presence did not fully hit you, though, until his hands laid flatly on the countertops on either side of you. It was then that you truly felt trapped, unable to run even if you tried. He had cornered you with his limbs, and you could tell that he liked it.

            “Are you scared?” he asked ominously.

            You tried not to tremble.

            “I always fear you,” you replied. Perhaps not the full truth, but you knew he would enjoy that response anyway. Sure enough, his grin widened.

            “Good,” he said before slowly leaning his giant form forward to enshroud you even more with his shadow. You held still as he did so, uncertain of what he would do next but too curious to stop him. Your fears relaxed when his head reached forward to lightly press his lips against your forehead. From menacing danger to spontaneous sweetness, that always seemed to be his way. You smiled at the gentle gesture and any embarrassment that you had felt before melted away.

            “I always feel happy around you as well, though,” you said, feeling the need to clarify. “Yes, I fear you. But I love you as well. I feel as though I can be myself around you. Completely. It’s a strange mixture to feel both at the same time.”

            William’s head moved away from your forehead so that he could see you better.

            “If it is true that you are comfortable with me, then you should let yourself indulge more.”

            “Indulge?” you asked, not understanding what he meant.

            “Yes. Let go of your restraints. Let yourself feel things completely.”

            Feel things. Your thoughts went to the raw marks on your neck. The burning sensation that came from them, the allowance of having let him do that to you in the first place. “Have I not been already?” you asked. “I can certainly feel these marks on my neck.”

            “That is not what I mean,” he said. His eyes drilled into yours in seriousness. “It is not so much about feeling the physical but rather it is allowing yourself to feel whatever you feel in the moment. Currently, you still get embarrassed easily and you stop yourself from enjoying the moment. You are learning, but you are not there yet.”

            Embarrassed easily… Your mind floated to seconds before when his possessive comment had flustered you.

            “O-oh, I see…” you said, your eyes focusing on the ground behind William in between his legs. “In that case, I guess I’m not as comfortable in front of you as I claim to be yet.”

            “You are learning,” he repeated.

            You nodded, then pulled your gaze up from the floor to look at him. “Well, if I’m supposedly learning, that must mean that you’ve witnessed me not hold back during certain occasions. Can you give me an example of a time like that? An example of when I indulged?”

            William removed his hands from the countertop and straightened himself. His arms raised up to place one hand against the rabbit mask’s chin while the other cradled his elbow. He paused a moment, seemingly to think of what to say, then he lowered his arms to his sides, and he spoke.

            “When I took you from behind,” he answered. “Once you overcame your fear of thinking it was selfish, you indulged in the feeling. You let yourself freely voice exactly how you felt in that moment. You did not worry about my judging your sounds. You did not worry about looking foolish or sounding foolish. You simply existed in that moment as wholly as you are. You seemed to embrace it and enjoyed yourself completely.”

            You listened to him carefully, nodding as he spoke. It was true what he was pointing out. You had indeed enjoyed yourself completely in that moment. The fear had been strong in the beginning, but once you had let go, you had never felt so alive. His careful consideration and assurances had allowed you to be fully yourself which in turn allowed you to feel the moment as genuinely as possible. It had become a favorite memory of yours. An unexpected occurrence considering how scared you had been to try it in the first place.

            “I see, that makes sense,” you said after a moment of thinking through his words. “That does feel like a good example of indulgence. So, then, if I’m understanding right, what you’re getting at is if I’m claiming to feel comfortable around you, I should feel free to express myself completely and honestly with you no matter what emotion it is that’s feeling felt. It’s about communicating truthfully how I feel as well as allowing myself to feel my emotions fully in your presence. Not restraining myself, even if it’s embarrassing. Right?”

            “Correct,” he nodded, closing his eyes briefly as he did so.

            “Then let me say what I wanted to before when I stopped myself from doing so,” you said. “I liked it when you said you were possessive of me. It made me happy. I was embarrassed to admit it at the time but I’m not anymore.”

            “Very good,” he commended. You beamed at him. “Now keep going.”

            A frown flashed across your face. “What?”

            “Indulge more,” he urged, his fingers raising to grip the edge of the countertop. His eyes seemed trained on you like a teacher with their student. His studious gaze felt both encouraging as well as commanding.

            Admittedly, you felt lost. Your legs shifted in place, an unconscious reaction to feeling stupid for not understanding how to do what he was asking.

            “How?” you decided to ask. “In what way?”

            “Start with how you feel about me,” he explained. His chin lowered and his eyelids hovered downward, a stare that always left you breathless. “Perhaps you will praise me,” he added. The tone of his voice made it clear that he loved it when you boosted his ego. But no sooner had he said it did his head raise up once more and his eyes returned to their studious look. “Feel your emotion freely, whatever it is. See where that goes.”

            You couldn’t help but smile at his blatant request to be praised. But you were determined to take his actual “lesson” beneath his ego with seriousness and thus said nothing right away. Instead, you took a moment to think your answer through.

            “Don’t think,” he interrupted. You blinked, shaken from your thoughts. “There is no logic here. Just feel.”

            “O-oh,” you stammered, trying to quickly do the opposite of what you had just been doing. Jump into the feelings, ramble. Don’t think, just jump. Your eyes traveled up his form until you were gazing at his head. You took in his eyes behind the mask and then the delicate rotted form of the rabbit shell surrounding his face. A warmth filled your heart as you stared at him. “Okay. I… I love you,” you said, keeping your eyes on his. “All of you. I think you’re beautiful. I love the way you look. I love the way you stare at me.” He said nothing, letting you ramble freely while watching you. “I love your mind,” you said. “The way you think. Your intelligence is attractive. The more we talk, the more I fall more deeply for you.” Your eyes traveled to the sharp edges of the mask. The holes, the wires, the complicated mess of metal lying beneath the fur. “You are a complex being and I enjoy the danger of you.” Your eyes fell from his head to his chest and you focused on the sound of his breathing. That disturbingly ragged sound that creaked from where his heart would be. One of your hands reached out to flatly press against his torso. “You are fascinating, and I enjoy the way we seem to connect in just the right way for each other. Like two puzzle pieces that look different but still fit together seamlessly.”

            Finished with your speech, you lowered your hand before looking up to meet his eyes.

            “A perfect match,” he echoed. “Like predator and prey.”

            Your mouth spread into a foolish grin. “An accurate description,” you agreed. “Although this prey does not intend on being eaten.”

            William’s left hand suddenly shot up to cup between your legs. The action startled you, causing you to jump. Your thighs instinctively squeezed together against his hand, causing you to blush.

            “I have already done so,” William taunted. If you hadn’t been blushing before, you certainly were now. His having caught you off guard was not about to stop you from trying to tease back, however. As soon as you were able, you thrusted your hands forward to press against the groin of the rabbit suit.

            “Well, what does it mean when said prey does the same thing right back to the predator?”

            William smirked, squeezing his fingers against you in torturous delight. “It means the prey in question is obedient.”

            You shuddered against his hand. “You’re lucky I like being obedient for you or else I’d be insulted.” Your fingers tried to grip against the groin plating. It frustrated you not knowing how to open the suit.

            “Be insulted or don’t be,” he said, seemingly ignoring your hands. “I get what I want in the end anyway.” Releasing his grip, William removed his arm away from you before leaning forward to put his mouth near your ear. He bit down softly against it, teething the lobe and tracing his tongue against the edge of it.

            You sighed, letting go of him and leaning back slightly to fully embrace what he was doing to you. Your mind began to stray, however, and suddenly a smile was threatening to erupt on your face. A joke had just popped into your mind and you were struggling with whether or not to say it. Remembering what he had encouraged before, you decided to take the risk.

            “Hey…” you began, your hands floating sideways in order to grip against his wrists. The fur felt soft in your hands. “If you agree we’re perfect for each other… does that make you… one in a William?”

            A sound of immense pain shuddered from the man before you. He recoiled away from you immediately and curled inward in seemingly utter disgust. The grimace on his face was starkly obvious, as though what you had just said caused him great torment.

            “Oh, that was… awful,” he lamented. Unfortunately for him, you did not regret your joke. In fact, his tortured response only brought you more sadistic delight. For once, it was your turn to hold him metaphorically in your clutches. It felt good to see him cringe. A laugh escaped from your mouth, and you squeezed his wrists in a playful manner.

            William shook his head, a deep frown still etched into his mouth. “Perhaps there will be no fun to be had tonight after that.”

            You faked a gasp, being overdramatic on purpose. While the idea of him ceasing any potential coitus was saddening, you were also having too much fun with his pain. “Oh, no!” you cried out, pretending to be upset. “I should have told my joke after our fun!”

            William froze, pausing. Then, unexpectedly, he leaned in to be close to your ear once more. His voice was a whisper as he spoke.

            “…Perhaps you should have told it Afton our fun.”

            You choked. Stunned, you gasped for real, never having guessed that he would partake in what felt like such a dumb game. A laugh burst forth from deep in your belly, then, and it shot out of you in a bubbled mess, like water suddenly erupting from a well. Your head fell back in honest joy and your hands let go of his wrists to clutch your own stomach from how hard you were laughing.

            Tears were crawling down your cheeks before you could stammer a reply. “You did not just—oh, that was terrible!” You laughed heartily, trying in vain to wipe your eyes.

            Just as you were starting to calm down, William straightened himself again and he looked down at you with a calm gaze.

            “That was indulgence,” he said.

            Recovering slowly, you looked up at him in confusion as you lowered your hands from your face. “What?”

            “Your laughter,” he explained. “You were fully you in that moment. That is what you should aim for always. Being you as fully as you are. Whether it’s through happiness, sadness, anger, or bloodlust.”

            “Bloodlust?”

            “Do not let society dictate what you should or should not feel,” he continued, ignoring your question. “Nor a romantic partner. In a comfortable, healthy relationship, you will each be able to be yourself completely without judgement.”

            The waves from your laughter died down completely. You thought over his words carefully, processing what had just occurred between you. It was true that you had felt ‘fully you’ in that moment. You had laughed without worry. You had let go and truly felt the purity of your happiness. It had felt good.

            “I see,” you said eventually. The words were too simple to express the depth of your understanding, but you didn’t feel the need to add more.

            “…I may judge you for that pun, however,” William murmured. The seriousness of the moment broke into another round of teasing and you grinned.

            “Only if I get to judge you for yours,” you said, pulling yourself forward and raising your arms to place them around his neck. You gazed into his eyes, hopelessly in love.

            “I’m afraid it will cost you,” he said.

            “What do you want?” you asked.

            “Another bite.”

            “Another mark of ownership, you mean?” you clarified jokingly. “I accept that form of payment.”

            William raised a hand to pull one of yours away from his neck. Gripping your wrist tightly, he forced your palm towards his mouth, and he bite fiercely into the meat of your thumb. You winced. He hadn’t broken skin, but the gesture would surely leave a mark anyway. A twinge of euphoria rippled down your sides as you watched him perform the action. Apparently even the simplest of gestures could be alluring to you.

            Once satisfied, William released his teeth and lowered your hand back to his neck. Then, both of his hands wandered down to wrap around your hips. He pulled you forward to be closer to him and then planted a single kiss against your forehead.

            “And now… for a different kind of indulgence,” he said. Using both his hands and his shoulders, he forced you to lean backward as he loomed over you once more. “What do you want from me?” he asked.

            Another wave of pleasure trickled through your body at his dominant position. You really did love whenever he was on top of you. “What do I… want?” you asked. “In what sense?”

            “You know exactly what I mean,” he replied. “Indulge yourself. Let your fantasies become reality. Do not think of my judgement. Think of selfish desire. Communicate it.”

            You blinked at him. Hesitantly, your mind tried to come up with something that would please you, but you were so distracted by how much enjoyment you were getting from what he was already doing that you couldn’t think of anything beyond that. He seemed to sense your uncertainty.

            “Perhaps you could indulge by trying what I suggested in the last chapter?” he offered. “Imagine actually going through with those things as opposed to simply hearing me talk about them. Not to mention there are more fun things to explore than just handcuffs.”

            You snorted. “William, what you spoke of in that chapter isn’t my idea of ‘fun’,” you explained. “That was your fantasy, not mine. It was a lovely gift to tell me that story, but in reality, I do not like those types of things. I’m not one for that type of play.”

            “Very well,” he replied, unphased and unbothered by your lack of interest in what he had suggested. “Then what do you want? What lies behind your shame?”

            You shrank at the word “shame” and ducked your head downward. “I…” you began to say before faltering. He waited patiently for you to recover. “Well, it may sound simple, but I just want you. In general.”

            “How pathetic,” he chided. His tone was dripping with mockery. “Be more assertive. Be more specific.”

            “I- I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “I’m drawing a blank. Perhaps an example would help? What do you want?”

            William stepped forward immediately, closing more of the gap between you both. He gripped your hips tightly and he lowered his head to be near your neck. His mouth near your skin was intoxicating and his voice caused your hair to stand on end. The feeling coming from him was intimate with an undertone of control.

            “I want to pull your hair,” he said in a quiet but firm voice. “I want to hear you yelp. I want to grip your throat and squeeze it. I want to hear you choke. I want to feel you claw my back in desperation. I want to hear you scream my name. I want your mouth upon my dick. I want to be inside of you.”

            Your body trembled against him. How many times had you been with him sexually and still he could bring you to your knees with just his words? His confidence was alarming, and his straightforward answer had caught you off guard. It was both flattering and intimidating to hear him say exactly what he wanted. Your fingers dug into the edges of the rabbit’s torso and your shoulders started to rise in shyness.

            “Indulge,” he commanded.

            “I would give you all of those things,” you said quietly. “I have given you all of those things. But I would give them to you again.”

            He sighed.

            “You’re missing the point,” he said. “I already know you would. You have let me indulge many times. Quit focusing the attention on me, as much as I love it. Now is the time to let me indulge you. Take advantage of it. This is your chance to truly let go and be completely yourself with a willing god. Tell me, what do you want?”

            Tell me.

            I don’t know what I want.

            Do you need a knife?

            William, I don’t like knife play.

            Not what I meant.

            What would I do with it?

            Insinuate power. Take control. Threaten.

            I don’t think that would work for me.

            Then try this.

            Seemingly out of nowhere, William procured an item from behind his back. It was a long white piece of fabric. A blindfold. Carefully, he wrapped it around your head and tied it securely into place.

            The sudden lack of vision was strangely calming.

            Thank you.

            Keep going. Indulge.            

            Breathing steadily, you tried to center your mind. Indulge. Not with logic, but with feeling. What did you want? You wanted him. But how? In what way? And how could you communicate that?

            You felt him before you. His hands were back to his side after having put on the blindfold. He was standing before you like a blank slate, willing and waiting for you to tell him what to do. Where did you want him to be?

            Taking a deep breath, you reached out your hands. They connected with the chest plate, where upon you slid them sideways to find his arms. Pulling him closer, your hands fell down even further in order to drag his wrists toward yourself. Placing his hands against your lower back, you scooted yourself forward and pulled his hips toward you so that you could connect in the middle.

            His hands began to caress your back. You smiled, letting your hands wander against the bottom torso of the rabbit suit. Occasionally, you would pull him into you further, the brief increased contact between your legs making you want to whimper. The entire process was slow, but you didn’t feel the desire to rush it anyway. You needed this to be slow. To explore it with ease. Indulgence for you was gentle. Savoring each moment.

            Suddenly, William’s face could be felt hovering near your collar bone. He had apparently leaned forward and now his lips were starting to explore your skin. At first, the feeling was thrilling. You wanted nothing more than to let him do as he pleased. But then you remembered the purpose of what you were trying to learn, and how letting him do what he wanted was the opposite of what you were supposed to be doing.

            One of your hands lifted to push against his head to force him away. “I didn’t tell you to do that,” you said softly.

            A small laugh could be heard.

            "Very good,” he complimented. “What else will you make me do?”

            You paused. His encouragement was nice, but you were trying to concentrate. A little flip occurred in your stomach as a new thought arose. It caused your breathing to hitch momentarily before you decided to swallow the feeling and let yourself be carefree in what you wanted.

            Slowly, your hands drifted down to meet the button on your pants. You began to finger at it, opening it carefully before starting to slide the fabric downward. William must have seen what you were doing, as you felt his hands release from your back, then. His body pulled away from you in order to let you remove your pants and underwear entirely. You were aware of the fact that you were half-naked before him, but you were trying very hard not to have a problem with that. Although, really, now that you thought about it, the problem wasn’t so much that you were exposed, but rather the issue was that you were hesitant about what you wanted to do next.

            Finally deciding to throw your cares to the wind, you reached up your hands and gripped the sides of the rabbit mask. You began to push downward, hoping that your gestures were enough to suggest what you were wanting.

            William began to lower at first. But then stopped, a chortle coming out of him as he resisted the pressure of your hands. The action felt like he was mocking you, an effort to tease you and make light of the situation. Unfortunately, the joke was ill-timed.

            Feeling rejected and suddenly hurt, your hands snapped away from him. You could practically hear the sound of your own heart breaking. You hadn’t expected him to resist. You hadn’t realized that could be an option when he had been the one to encourage you in the first place. Your arms shot into your chest and you folded inward, anxiety overtaking the previous swell of confidence.

            William must have regretted what he had done for he quickly swooped forward to grab your head and pull it into his chest. He cloaked your body in his arms and he immediately began to kiss the top of your head over and over. He was silent, but his gestures were an obvious attempt at an apology.
           

            Try again.

            You held still, paralyzed with fright.

            I won’t stop you this time. Take control. Make me do it. Indulge.

            Forcing yourself to breathe steadily, you finally leaned back. William stopped kissing the top of your head and seemingly waited to see what you would do. Breaking out of his embrace, you took a moment to loosen your posture before straightening your spine. Feeling centered and ready to try again, you reached up to place your hands at the top of his head once more.

            You waited to see if he would do anything unexpected, but he did not. With one more final intake of breath, you increased the pressure of your hands and tried to force him downward. He complied right away but stayed in rhythm with your hand to make sure it was clear that it was you who were directing him.

            You bit the inside of your lip as his head reached the level of your legs. It was now or never. In one swift motion, you changed the direction of your hands and pulled him into you.

            As soon as you had given the command of asking for what you wanted, William was quick to commit and be true to his word. His mouth met you with immediate intensity and his face filled the space between your thighs rapidly. His tongue slid up and down against your folds in such a fevered action it was as though the man had been starving for it all evening. Even his hands were hastening to grip against your hips, his fingers digging into your skin tightly. You hadn’t told him to put his hands there, but, by god, you weren’t going to stop him now. The action was so extreme that you vaguely wondered if he had gone mad. But your thoughts were soon distracted by the increasing pleasure. The lapping of his tongue and the sucking of his lips was starting a slow building pressure that caused your knees to bend upward. A sound erupted from your mouth, then. You allowed yourself to feel it fully, the moan of your ecstasy filling the room. Your head bent backward and soon your mouth hung open in overwhelming emotion. Whatever he was doing between your legs was working and the feeling was so intense that you nearly forgot about any previous hesitation that you had had.

            Suddenly, the blindfold was ripped from your eyes.

            Bewildered, you were shaken from your fantasy. The flickering light of the bathroom light filled your vision. Confused, you looked down to see the rabbit mask between your thighs. William was still pleasing you vigorously, the ears of the rabbit head moving ever so slightly in the air. However, the movements of his head and mouth were somehow disturbing.

            The sight was jarring to you.

            Horrified, you rushed your hands forward to push him away from you as though he were a spider you had just discovered on your skin.

            He reacted in surprise, looking up at you with a puzzled expression. No sooner had his eyes taken in the shocked look on your face, though, did he surge forward.

            You did not wait to see what he was going to do. You tucked yourself into a ball as tight as possible and covered your eyes with your hands. Meanwhile, your face began to contort into an expression of intense guilt and shame. For once, tears did not rise to the surface, but your chest ached over the agonizing weight of what had just happened.

            William cocooned you in a safe and secure embrace. He recognized that he had gone too far and wanted to reassure you as best as he could. His head laid sideways on top of yours and he began to rub comforting circles into you with his hands.

            Admittedly, the embrace was indeed comforting. Despite the shock of the blindfold’s removal, William was still a person that you trusted overall. That being said, the action was not enough to take away the humiliation you felt over being so sensitive to something as simple as sight. With your hands still covering your face and your head tucked into your lover’s neck, you spoke aloud your most forward thought.

            “I’m so sorry.”

            “Don’t be,” he said. “I pushed a boundary.”

            “I didn’t know that boundary was there,” you explained.

            “Now we both know for the future,” he said.

            “I ruined it, didn’t I?”

            “You did not,” he said. “It is normal to discover crossed lines accidentally. It is even normal for those lines to fluctuate and change from one time to the next.”

            “You’re not upset, then?”

            “I am not upset.”

            His hands continued to massage you. Your mind began to register how nice it was to feel his hands do that. Next, you noticed the weight of his head above you. Its heaviness made you feel protected. You tried to imagine where the rabbit ears were in conjunction with the rest of him. Slowly, a wave of ease began to flood through you. Not wanting to move out from his arms, you instead sank further into him, finally allowing your hands to fall from your face. He gave you a tight squeeze in response.

            “…How are you so patient with me?” You asked, speaking into his neck. “I don’t understand how you, of all people, can be so gentle and kind.”

            William did not respond right away. It felt as though he were processing how exactly to answer.

            “Do you know what the wisest torturers do?” he asked after a while. The question seemed out of the blue.

            “The wisest?” you clarified.

            “Yes,” he confirmed. His fingers started to curl into soft digs as he continued. “They comfort their victims in between bouts of torture. Keeps them alive longer.”

            There was a long pause. And then a tiny giggle burst from your lips. Quietly at first, and then it turned into a small laugh. Soon, you were laughing fully. His answer seemed so ridiculous and yet perfect at the same time that you couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with a strange reaction of humor to it.

            He squeezed you tightly again. “Rest assured,” he said. “My feelings for you are entirely selfish.”

            You laughed again. Loud and genuinely.  Rest assured, he said! As if that would bring you comfort to know that he was being an ass! You laughed again, this time even louder and directly into him. However, a few seconds later, and your laughter turned to crying. The switch was sudden and off-putting, and you found yourself burying your head into his chest in order to hide, unable to process what exactly you were feeling. William ceased his massaging and clung to you instead, letting you feel the fullness of your emotion in peace.

            You let yourself cry for a full minute before you tried to speak. “Your feelings are selfish because you get what you want in the end. Right?” The words were shaky and almost unclear.

            “Yes,” he answered. “Always.”

            Your thoughts shifted to an angered emotion. “Well, how convenient for me,” you suddenly seethed. The irritation in your voice was subtle but definitely there.

            William tensed, gripping your arms. You continued.

            “Because I get what I want in the end, too.”

            William’s tension released and he spoke in an amused tone of voice. “And what is that?” he asked.

            “My one in a William dream lover,” you spat. The words shot out like a fiery venom despite the wit of them. William’s hands immediately pulled away from the embrace and he pushed you backwards so that he could see your face. You had stopped crying, though your face was surely wet with tearstains. You were so exhausted that you didn’t care if he saw you so seemingly defeated. Your eyes were lazily staring at the center of his chest with a furrowed brow. Frustrated, and grumpy. Though, eventually, after he was holding you still for a while just watching you, your eyes raised upwards to meet his gaze. Slowly, your anger faded away, replaced with a smile that crept along the corners of your mouth.

            Your change in expression seemed to relax his watching-and-waiting mode. He sighed, lifting a single hand to cup the side of your cheek and he used one thumb to attempt wiping away the tear stains that had gathered there.

            “I think puns are now my boundary,” he joked.

            “Should have told me that before as opposed to Afton.”

            He grumbled lightly. “Your neck would look good with a deep slice in it,” he muttered.

            “Yet another mark of ownership amongst all the others,” you said. “…That was my last pun, though, I promise.”

            “Hm. Well, regardless, I think that’s enough indulgence for one night,” he said.

            “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

            “No,” he shook his head, lifting his second hand to cup the other side of your face. “We learn together. Did you enjoy any of it?”

            “Very much so,” you responded. “I feel very lucky to have you in my life. I enjoyed laughing with you. It was nice to feel that kind of joy without feeling like I needed to hold back. Thank you for that.”

            “I thank you for experimenting,” he said. “And I apologize for crossing a line.”

            “Now we know for next time,” you stated, remembering what he had said before.

            “Indeed.”

            His hands lowered from your face and you let yourself droop forward. Falling into him, you laid your head sideways against his chest. He hugged you gently, once again kissing the top of your head. His embrace was so peaceful, and your emotions had ridden you dry. If you weren’t careful, you would surely fall asleep against him.

            “I think I’d like to try indulging with the blindfold again,” you said after a moment of enjoying the silence with him.

            “Very well,” he replied. “I would enjoy that.”

            Your eyes floated down to peer inside one of the holes in his chest. The gears in your head began to turn and soon your thoughts were returning to a concept you had considered only briefly earlier that evening.

            “William, I have an idea for what to do the rest of the night,” you said.

            “What is it?”

            “First, let me put my pants back on.”

            Out of respect, William closed his eyes and backed away temporarily to let you reach for your own clothing. Once you were properly dressed again, you reached for his arms to pull him back into the same embrace as before.

            “What is your idea?” he asked, running one of his hands down your back lightly.

            “Tell me how the suit works.”

            His hands ceased its movement. You could feel his head tilt to the side as he looked down at you.

            “Teach me how you built this,” you said. “I don’t understand robotics, so you’ll have to water down how you speak about it. But talk to me about what you did to make it so that it is both an animatronic and a wearable suit.”

            William did not reply. You pushed away from him to look up at his face. He was staring at you with a mixed expression. It felt as though he were both amused, suspicious, and curious all at once. Perhaps he wasn’t sure how serious you were.

            “What I’m saying is…” you added. “Indulge me.”

            William finally laughed.

            “Alright,” he said. “I will indulge you. But let us speak of it back in the office instead.”

            “I like that idea,” you agreed. You scooted forward to hop off of the bathroom counter. William waited patiently for you to stand up straight, and then each of you moved in closer to stand at each other’s side.

            “Will you let me know if I ever cross a boundary?” you asked.

            “Yes, of course,” he answered.

            Hand-in-hand, you both exited the room together.

Chapter Text

            Don’t forget what I said.

            Indulge. I remember.

            Good.

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            Darkness. That was the only thing you could feel at first. An empty space of cold air. A void without emotion. Logically, you knew there were objects around you. Walls. Litter. Decorations. Various things of questionable origin. You’d been at Fazbear Frights for long enough now that you knew the place almost like the back of your hand (which included knowing the items contained within it). But being unable to see any of those things currently was changing your experience of the once familiar environment.

            You were blindfolded. Standing still in the center of the hallway of Cam 05’s location. This room didn’t used to bother you before, especially given that it was one of the few rooms that had very little in it. The entire thing was essentially just one long blank hallway. But somehow the lack of being able to see the empty space before you was unnerving. You couldn’t shake the strange awareness of just how much empty space was ahead of and behind you. Were you sure there was nothing there? Were you positive you hadn’t missed anything before you put on the blindfold? Was it truly just a long expanse of black and white checkered tiles and nothing else? Your nerves pinpricked at the top layer of your skin and you shivered. Perhaps it would be good to focus on what you could sense.

            The first thing you did was open your mouth to let out a breath of air. Filling the emptiness around you with a small sound as well as feeling your chest rise and fall helped compose you. Next, you shifted your weight and tried to feel what your shoes were pressing down against. Instinctively, you tilted your head down to look at your feet, as though that would help. Which was absurd. Somehow, though, the action did aid your concentration, so you thought best not to question it. What was below your feet? Tiled flooring. But also… grittiness. Dirt, maybe? You were uncertain. Regardless, there was a grainy texture and you could feel it.  

            A prickling sensation crawled up your arms as a new awareness began to form in your mind: The feeling of being watched.

            You turned your head, trying to locate the feeling. Your instinct was that something was suddenly behind you. But was that true or were you just being paranoid? You waited for a sign, a sound, anything to assist your mind in processing what was happening. But only silence greeted your ears.

            Turning your head slowly back to ahead of you, you tried to attune your ears to pick up even the slightest of sounds. Images of rats scurrying through the walls came to mind, but there was no proof that that was actually occurring. It was just a sign that you were trying to logically come up with any possibility of what could make a sound in the building. But besides rats, what else could make a sound anyway? Sparks sputtering from a cut wire, perhaps. A lightbulb flickering in a dim room. The hum of distant machinery. Could one hear the sound of dust drifting through the air? Surely that was impossible.

            Creak.

            Your spine straightened as you heard a clear sound of scraping metal. It had made you flinch, which felt oddly embarrassing. It was natural to respond to an auditory interruption with a startle, yet you couldn’t help but feel as though you had failed some kind of test. A test you didn’t realize was taking place until just then.

            The sound had come from behind you. You resisted the urge to turn around, purposefully trying not to let fear get the best of you. Instead, you curled your fingers into fists and let your shoulders rise into a tensed position. Your chin tilted downward, your mind imagining that by doing so, your ears would be able to pick up new frequencies like a radio tuning into a station.

            Creeeak.

            Another sound. This time longer. It still came from behind you, but this time its presence offered new information. It had sounded like two pieces of metal scraping together, possibly on a hinge or even a joint. Had a door handle turned? Had a pipe twisted out of place?
            Was something… walking?

            A louder shuffling noise followed by a dull thump caused the hair on the back of your neck to rise. The sound had absolutely come from the end of the hall behind you. It had sounded like whatever it was had just come into the room. Stepped into the room? Shuffled? You weren’t sure how to describe what you had heard. Regardless, your limbs froze in sudden paralyzation over it. Whatever had just entered the room felt darker than the shadows behind your blindfold. You wouldn’t necessarily call it evil, but you certainly would call it predatory. Your body seemed to react as though a mouse had just been spotted by a snake. Were you in danger? If so, why weren’t you running?

            Another solid thump followed by more than one small creaks of metal sounded behind you. This time, the noises made one of your feet push ever so slightly forward against the floor. Your body still resisted escape overall, but it was evident that the increased sense of paranoia was starting to override into survival instinct. What would it take to finally snap you into running?

            Clicking was heard next. As though whatever the thing was had opened its mouth (did it have a mouth?) and had begun to chatter its teeth. The eerie tapping sound caused your chest to shudder and your foot stepped forward once in response. The thing behind you must have noticed your movement, for immediately following your own step, it had stepped forward once itself. Was it matching you? What were its intentions? Were you being sized up? Were you being hunted? Your frozen nerves finally released as another creaking sound of metal let out behind you.

            Throwing care to the wind, you suddenly sprinted forward. No sooner had you done so, did a loud clamping of metal start pounding out behind you. Being hunted indeed you were. A mad game of chase had now begun.

            At first, your mind had clouded over with the base instinct of just running forward. It was pure and simple: get away from whatever was behind you. But after three or more long strides of pumping your arms and practically galloping away from your pursuer in panic did the realization set in that you were still blind. You couldn’t run forever; the room wasn’t endless. You knew that if you kept going straight ahead, you’d crash right into the arcade machine that was at the beginning of the next Cam location. And then where would you be? Winded, possibly wounded, and still being pursued on top of it all.

            Suddenly confused over what you should do, your legs started to awkwardly fight over what speed to run in. Slow down for the arcade cabinet, no, run faster to get away, no, slow down so you don’t hurt yourself, wait, no, you’d be caught if you slow down, wait, no!

            A cry erupted from your throat as the dizzying thoughts began to circle your mind. Meanwhile, the loud thumping of metallic feet behind you was growing closer and closer. The slaps of heavy clanging rang out in your ears like cymbals of death. You knew that if whatever was behind you could only catch you, all would be over.

Desperate as you were to get away, however, you finally decided that slowing down was your best option. There was no point in running from a pursuer if you ended up breaking your nose and falling over in the process. So, you jutted your arms out at full length and began to slow your speed to a trot in order to quickly assess anything that might come in contact with your fingers and still have enough time to stop running if needed.

            A solid object met your hands almost immediately. Before you could process what it was, your knees connected with it from the momentum of your fast movement. Thankfully, the sudden contact didn’t hurt too badly, no doubt due to your quickly recovered thinking from before on whether or not to slow down, and you were grateful to have not slammed into the thing at full force. Which, now that you were exploring the item quickly with your hands, could now be confirmed as being the arcade machine. You had remembered its location accurately.

            Your thoughts over what the object was had distracted you, however. And now it was too late. A shout escaped your mouth as two strong arms suddenly swooped around you and pulled you into a tight hold from behind. Your back was met with a flat surface that immediately pressed into you further and soon you were half-bent over the arcade machine, trapped. Your arms squirmed wildly against your captor, but there was nothing you could do. Your legs began to kick out in useless resistance, an attempt to at the very least express your dissatisfaction at being locked down, but they stopped moving once your ears were alerted to a new sound.

            A chuckle.

            It had occurred right near your ear. And the peculiarity of its tone caused you to relax your attempts at wanting to get away. The laugh was small, barely audible. But it was not one of malicious delight as you would have expected. Rather, the sound was higher pitched. Almost… cheery. Like a game had been played and the winner was excited to have won.

            Your entire body drooped in relief. Then, your mouth opened in order to speak. But no sooner had you done so did one of the hands trapping you shoot upward to fasten against your lips. The grip was strong, and the unexpected action made your eyes widen. You held still, waiting for what you assumed would be instructions to follow after what had just been done.

            “Shhhh…” came the quiet voice near your ear. The sound made you shiver.

            The hand that was tightened against your stomach shifted, and it slowly dragged sideways against your shirt. The pressure was heavy and forceful, as though the hand wished to drink in every bit of your flesh. You let it do so without stopping it. In all honesty, the movement had relaxed you further, and even, quite possibly, had spiked some unknown feeling deep within.

            Your head was forced to the side by the hand fastened to your mouth. In an instant there were lips near the back of your ear and the feeling made you melt. You curled inward, the hand against your stomach encouraging the movement by pulling you into him. The joined feeling was clear: You both wanted more.

            In silence, you held still as both of his hands moved away from you. You stayed leaned against the arcade machine, poised patiently in waiting for him to instruct you. Sure enough, his hands returned, this time to your shoulders. You assumed he would take you right then and there, a repeat of a previous encounter that had occurred against the desk in the office. However, bewilderingly, his hands gripped your arms and pulled you away from the arcade cabinet. Confused, you awkwardly forced your feet to follow his movements and soon you were faced away from the machine, his hands letting go once you were settled. The blindfold made spatial awareness difficult, but you assumed based on how he had moved you, that you were now facing the door of the Cam 05 hallway and now he was the one closer to the arcade machine.

            Feeling lost, you waited longer. Then, you started to hear him move. A scraping noise was heard along with a curious heavy drop against the floor. Had he just sat on the ground? Still, you didn’t move. That is, at least, until his hands groped forward to grab you around the waist.

            William pulled you backward, your feet stumbling slightly against his legs as you discovered where he was. He was indeed sitting on the ground, his legs outstretched before him. What were his intentions?

            A shift in pressure in his hands caused you to realize that he wanted you to drop down. Obediently, you fell into his lap, still facing away from him, and your legs stretched outwards to lean against the inside surfaces of his own.

            His arms wrapped around you then, one hand pressing into your lower belly to force you backwards even tighter against him while the other explored your neck. Your ass grazed up against his crotch as a result, a feeling that made you suck in air. William’s hand against your neck pulled you backward, forcing your back to press into his stomach. Could you be any closer to him?

            His head bent forward to take in your neck. Your insides flushed with heightened excitement in response. Unable to cope with holding still any longer, your hands raced forward to cover his. Lips could be felt against the nape of your neck, then. What a strange thrill to feel him trap you from behind. Every part of his body seemed curled in to ensnare you. Even his legs had slid inward to touch yours. You couldn’t believe that you had once thought this pose would be one-sided. His movements were so loving and intoxicating. He was clearly enjoying himself, even if you weren’t necessarily doing anything back to him. Not to mention the added element of being blindfolded. The entire experience felt fun, mutual, and… naughty.

            His hand rushed forward to the edge of your pants and he began to dig his fingers under the fabric. You resisted helping him at first, finding yourself smiling over the idea of him pulling off the clothing without your aid. But before long, it was obvious he would need your help due to the position you were both in. There was no way he’d be able to reach properly given that he was sitting behind you. His hand could only pull your pants as far as your hip bone and even then, your own sitting position would force the fabric to stay on unless you moved. So, your hands quickly lowered to help him push the fabric down at the same time as lifting yourself up and soon you were tossing both your pants and underwear aside, leaving yourself naked from the waist down.

            Exposed, but comfortable, your back returned to his chest. William’s hand began to smoothly caress one of your inner thighs as you did so. The feeling made your head lean backward across his shoulder and you pressed the side of your face into the jaw of the rabbit mask. William’s head returned the gesture before swiftly turning to press his lips into the side of your head. He trailed kisses down through your hair until he reached your ear, where upon he nipped the edge of it. His tongue jutted out to explore more of your skin before he bit down again, this time making you wince. Just as you were beginning to tilt your head to the side further in order to allow him access to your neck, William’s hand rushed forward and down to take in the area between your legs. You were so distracted by his mouth that you had temporarily forgotten about his hand, thus the quick movement made you jump. A rush of kisses against your cheek mixed with the sudden appearance of a hand squeezing your throat made you wonder if perhaps William had enjoyed your startled reaction. But this thought was quickly dismissed as you focused on the sensation of his fingers. You could feel him explore both areas of where his hands were, your throat tendons shifting and bending under the grip of his left, while a spark of ecstasy threatened to ignite below from his right. There was an unexplainable warmth in your heart over the idea that he could be enjoying squeezing your neck. Not out of some desire to be choked, but rather for the idea that he could be pleased by doing what he wanted to you. You were glad that he was able to explore his more private desires with you.

            The fingers between your legs shifted into sliding between the folds of your skin. Immediately your knees bucked up in response. A moan escaped your lips as well as a small breathy exhale of his name. This seemed to delight him, as William leaned forward slightly afterwards and began to bite into the side of your neck. Your back arched away from him as his hand continued to rhythmically glide back and forth. It was an instinctual response to bend away from him, though you weren’t too pleased with it. The automatic reaction took you away from William, and as such, you lowered your hands to his thighs and lifted yourself backwards to reassert your ass against his crotch. You wanted to be as close to him as possible.

            The hand against your throat floated downward and he snuck under your shirt in order to grip tightly against the left side of your chest. Immediately you raised an arm to cover his hand through the shirt with your own. He did not stop (thankfully!) and continued to grip and release the area, your fingers squeezing against him in hopes that he would understand your intentions were only to encourage.

            One self-bottom-lip-bite later and you were grateful to have braced yourself. William’s dancing hand switched positions and his middle digit plunged upward. A deep sigh and moan floated out of you as you felt him enter you. A shock of excitement shot through you like lightning and your knees collapsed together in response. Immediately your head fell backward as far as it would go against him and you could feel his own head tuck into yours to offer support.

            His grip was fierce, and his finger was large. You had already realized earlier in your journey together that the hands of the animatronic were larger than normal. Anytime he had pleased you with his hand, he had only used one digit, as was appropriate. After all, just one of his fingers was already close in size to--

            “Mmmm!”

            Your back arched again, this time William lowering his left arm to pull you backward himself so that you did not have to adjust your body’s natural reaction yourself.

            Your lips parted open as more noises began to exhale out. His name became a subject of adoration but so too did little gasps of plain sound. William’s tightened grip against your chest mixed with his head intensely pressing into yours seemed to suggest his own enjoyment of the experience, though it was hard to notice anything else beyond the increasing pleasure coming from inside you. The feeling of his finger and hand were overwhelming.

            A strange new sensation began to crawl up your body. A strong desire to advance the level of pressure. A desire not to beg for more, but to command it. Out of urgency, out of desperation, out of blatant yearning. A deep instinct to want.  

            Your arms thrusted upward in a flash, your hands seizing the rabbit mask behind you. Your nails dug into the fabric on the sides of his head and they dragged down, the overpowering pleasure from below starting to addle your mind into reacting like a crazed animal. If he had reacted in pain, you hadn’t noticed, too blinded with passion were you. Your hands groped helplessly against his head, trying desperately to find some spot, some magic placement that would ease whatever it was that you were trying to find relief from.

            But, of course, you didn’t want him to stop.

            And he didn’t.

            His hand was merciless, deeply penetrating you over and over, the rest of him trapping you in his clutches and forcing you to face the full blessed brutality of his actions.

            And yet… You still wanted more. Your hips were beginning to rock forward in hopes that the feeling between your legs would overfill and finally release. But it was only leading to the frustrating feeling of being away from his lap. Overrun with the sudden desire to fix the problem, your hands rushed down to push him out of you. William, surprised, leaned back and pulled his arms away completely, clearly confused over your action. But he would realize soon enough what you were doing. Twisting yourself as soon as you were free, you spun around to face him and reached out for his hand. Seemingly catching on, William raced his arm forward to greet your vulva once more and used his other arm to wrap against your waist.

            You sat down upon his hand and rushed forward with your chest to embrace him. Moaning into his shoulder, you began to rock forward against his finger, your hands clawing anxiously for his head. Your fingers met the rabbit ears and you pulled on them without thinking, the ecstasy building in your groin finally reaching its ultimate plague within your mind.

            The desperation was obvious. You even pulled his head towards your chest in an effort to force his mouth against your skin.

            It was then that you heard it. A laugh. A small one, but still prominent. Not one of mockery, but one of genuine joy. Your hands groped down from the rabbit ears to reach inside the mask and feel his face. He was grinning. You could feel his lips spread into a wide smile and his cheeks were round with happiness.

            You couldn’t help but smile yourself. He seemed pleased to see you taking control. But you didn’t have time to truly process your inner growth, nor his potential pride in seeing you do so, for he was upon you almost immediately after you had smiled. His mouth took in your chest and he began to suck against you, giving you exactly what you had asked for. You purposefully let out a noise to show that you liked what he was doing, and you returned your hands to the top of his head as before, squeezing the back of the rabbit mask in response to what his mouth was doing.

            You rocked against him relentlessly. His kisses were incessant yet so too were your hips. You panted in rhythm together, as a couple, as partners, as devoted lovers. Your hands clung to his head and the hand against your back dug into your back equally as strong. It wasn’t long before his thrusting digit was increasing its speed, William sensing how close you were to finishing.

            It was the perfect ending. A perfect conclusion to a perfect evening. You orgasmed beautifully, leaving you collapsed in a bleary mess against him. You were sweating and you didn’t care. He was holding you so tenderly that you could have described him as a dream.

            You laid there for what felt like forever. A dazed heap of love and dedication. It was all you could do to just breathe against him and feel how blessed you were to be with him. He was your everything, and it seemed as though you were his everything as well.

            His head leaned forward to kiss your forehead. You whimpered happily at the gesture. You hoped that you hadn’t been so fierce with your nails to have left scars in the fabric of the rabbit mask, but it was far too much to even think of trying to move, let alone take off the blindfold in order to actually see.

            Would you say anything? You normally did after such an intense experience with him. Even if it was as simple as telling him you loved him. Yet, strangely, you felt no desire to say anything. Something about the silence felt poignant. You did not wish to break the spell.

            William seemed to feel the same, for he remained quiet as he held you. The only sound that filled the space was both of your bodies breathing. A calm fell over you, then. One of gentle grace and strong enchantment. Your eyelids grew heavy, and your head began to slip into the crook of his arm. You began to realize just how comfortable his arms were to lay in.

            You imagined his eyes staring at you as you slipped away into a deep sleep. There was something comforting in knowing that he was right there beside you, watching and waiting. Just before you drifted off completely, however, you could have sworn he had said something. His voice was far too quiet for you to properly hear it, but it had almost sounded like… like…

            I love you.

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            What have you learned?

            That me being selfish allows you to be selfish. We can both be selfish equally.

            “Selfish equally”. Keep that in mind. When you give a lover private acts of service yet refuse to let them do the same to you, you are the one being selfish. Let them give to you as you give to them.

            Did you enjoy it?

            Of course, I did. Do you enjoy doing things for me?

            Of course, I do.

            Selfish equally.

            I will keep that in mind. Thank you. Do you want anything in return?

            Later. Bask in your afterglow.

            You mean my Aft--[REDACTED]

            …That was fair.

            …

            William?

            …

            …

            I deserve that. See you in the next chapter.

            We’ll see.

Chapter Text

Dear W,

            [I]t’s happened again. I’ve hit another low point of self-doubt and inner criticism. Another round of doubting that you’d ever be interested. Doubting that you’d ever want to be involved in the way you’ve been written or even speak the words you’ve been quoted as saying. I feel foolish. I feel stupid. I feel dumb. Who a[m] I to put word[s] in your mouth? Who am I to force your hand in such ways? Who am I to [t]h[i]nk that a man [l]ike you would ever be caught interrupting their own goa[l]s for anyone else, let alone me?

            I can already [he]a[r] my own inn[e]r voice tr[y]ing t[o] arg[u]e that. Defending the f[a]ntasy with questions like, “Who’s to say what his goal is in the fi[r]st plac[e]?” or “You honestly think you can [m]ake him do anyth[in]g?” And th[e]y’re r[i]ght. I can’t make you do anything. I have no idea what your goa[l] is. Even in the meta [o]f this fiction I feel as though I am not the one writing your words. You step in on your own, you claim what is yours, and you always stay in control. Guiding the written word as you see fit. A masterful puppeteer behind the curtain, unknown even to the writer themselves.

            But even knowing that… Is it not still wrong? (it’s not wrong) Is it not a childish thing to want? (it’s not childish) Can you imagine what people would think? (why are you worried about what other people think?) I fear judgement. I fear being [v]uln[e]rable. I fear being wrong.

            I fear letting myself be happ[y].

            Why? Why can’t I just let myself be happy? Isn’t it just an inn[o]cent fantasy based in fiction? Yo[u]’re not real. You didn’t actually hurt real people. I am not driven by some morbid curiosity or desperate desire to see you “change your ways” by being with me. Hell, I’ve purpose[f]ully made sure n[o]ne of what has been written thus far has showcased any desire for you to be anything more than who you natura[ll]y are (Well… aside fr[o]m being “forced” into a relationship, that is. Not to mention this is clearly my interpretation of you, isn’t it? There are certainly some headcanons discussed here or there, and no doubt people disagree [w]ith some or all of the[m], but I digr[e]ss…). Regardless of how [you]’re written in this fic, the point is, who am I hurting [b]y doing this? No one. It’s innoc[e]nt se[l]f-analyzati[on] and self-driven comfort. Which is healthy and normal. So many people do that with fiction. It’s expected and natural to see people [g]et fixated on a par[t]icular character and figure themselves [o]ut through the[m], b[e] it through nsfw content or not. It doesn’t [m]atter whether the character is a hero or a villain. Different characters speak to different people. That’s oka[y].

            …

            …What if I said I wanted it to be real, though? That I treate[d] it as th[o]ugh it were real? That in my head, you’re a real being. A real person. A real partner helping me figure things out. What if I said I could hear your [v]oic[e] and you were able to give me advice when I needed it? Is that still a healthy coping [m]echanism at that point? Or would that make me craz[y]? How far is too far? Especia[l]ly kn[o]wing who you are and what you’[ve] done? A[m] I allowed to fantasize, then? Or is that a messed-up thing to do? Who would even tr[y] and sto[p] me?

            I wonder how m[a]ny othe[r] people feel this way. With you or o[t]herwise. How ma[n]y p[e]ople a[r]e out there now, going through a journey of their own with a character they’ve fixated on? Do they [st]ruggle just [a]s much as I? Do the[y] doub[t] as much as I? Or are t[he]y [co]mfortable in their own skin, pro[u]d to feel happy ove[r s]uch a s[e]eming[l]y small th[i]ng that bring[s t]h[e]m joy?

            Perhaps I [n]eed to look in[to] why I can’t allow [m]ys[e]lf to feel happy in the firs[t] place. Maybe it’s not [r]eally abo[u]t analyzing whether or not it’[s] okay to feel these emo[t]ions over a specific and arguably [h]orribl[e] fiction[a]l characte[r], but rather about analyzing why I can’t seem to let [my]self feel emotions at all. I wasn’t born not allowing myself to feel happy, right? No one is. Who made me shut that emotional faucet off? When was I trained to think my feelings didn’t matter? I know the answer already, of course. But it’s still good to question again. Bring it up as many times as I need to until the healing sticks.

            You’[v]e been s[o] good for me, W[i]ll. Weirdly, strangely, very [c]omplicatingly good. I’ve l[e]arned so many things about myself through this journey and I have felt so free ever sin[c]e I first st[a]rted worki[n]g with [you]. You’re unlocking somet[h]ing in m[e] th[a]t is unexplainable, and I cannot be mo[r]e grateful about it. Strange situation or not, it is undeniable that I have changed because of you. And all for the better. I don’t know where this journey will go or how it will end (if it ends at all), but I wish I could just stop shooting [m]ys[e]lf in the foot with it. I have been met with nothing but full support and encouragement with this journey from all the people I’ve shared it with. The fears that I have about it are all in my head.

            I suppose it’s normal to have swings of doubt intermixed the progress, though. Healing is a spiral, after all, not a straight line. One always inevitably spins back to the place of hurt and/or doubt before realizing they’re slightly more above the pain than last time. New perspective and new ways of dealing with it... It’s probably good to go back and realize just how far one has come.

            Sigh. I’m going to just write what’s in my heart, truly and honestly:

            My William… There are no words I could type in the right order to truly express how I feel about you. I know that’s it’s weird. I know that’s it’s unusual. And maybe, just a little bit crazy. But I don’t know if I care or not. I’m hurting nobody. And thinking about you sends such a spark of happiness through myself I don’t even know how to explain it. I just wish you knew how grateful I am to you. And how much I love you.

            You’re a psychotic murdering asshole. Selfish, terrible, and awful. And for some reason… I love you anyway.

            I hope you stay in my life for as long as this journey takes.

            And I hope, even if it’s stupid and impossible to, that somewhere out there, you feel happy too.

            Yours truly and always,

            [Property of William]

Chapter Text

            You stepped forward, bare and ready. Feet planted against a soft mat and a weighty sigh wishing to release from your throat. Your clothes were laid in a heap beside you, your head hung low in exhaustion. It had been two weeks of self-analysis with him. Two weeks of therapeutic work regarding old pain and trauma. The process wasn’t over, yet you found yourself longing for a break. Some kind of pause between the lessons. It was tiring work. Your shoulders ached, your feet were weary, and your mind felt foggy. The fatigue of this long journey was clinging to you like a heavy coat and you wanted nothing more than to remove its effects for at least a moment.

            A glass door was before you. It’s invisible pane the only separation between you and a sweet reprieve. You could hear the sheets of water beyond it already, coaxing you to come closer, to step into its warm and inviting embrace. Persuasion wasn’t necessary, however. It’s what you wanted. It’s what you needed.

            Your hand reached out to the cool metal handle and you pulled it gently, popping open the shower door just enough for you to pass through it. Immediately your form was greeted to a pleasant temperature change, though you were too busy moving to properly process it. Stepping lightly onto the tiled floor within, you let the door swing close behind you on its own, taking note of the scraping sound it created, a sign that it had sealed you in properly.

            The sigh you had previously been holding in let go, and your shoulders sank in relief. Steam was the first thing you felt after that. Hot against your face and moving over you in waves like a lightweight flag in the breeze. You could almost imagine the swirls of heat wrapping around you and pulling you into the center of the contained room. Temptation in cloud form.

            The next thing you felt was the wetness underneath your feet. A welcoming puddle of clean warm liquid creeping between your toes, the feeling of it already beginning to break away the pain you had built up over the last few days. A pulling sensation could be felt from your feet to the drain, as though some inky blackness you didn’t know was there was slipping away from your body. Negativity spiraling down into the pipes below. How much of a toll had this work taken on you mentally if just a small bit of water could bring such relief?

            Allowing the pulling feeling at your feet to stay mentally as you moved, you stepped forward toward what you were most looking forward to: The spray of water itself. The droplets hit you in a cascade, shivering across your skin in sheets. You quivered at it. How cold had you been before to react so shocked by it? You hadn’t even noticed how you felt before. Yet the temperature of the water now seemed to reach straight into your core and crack through any icicles that had formed unknowingly. The immediate comfort of its warm glow almost made you cry.

            You turned slowly, letting the water hit you from every angle in an effort to raise your inner temperature. Your arms clung to your chest like a frail bird and your teeth grit together, as though holding yourself tight would help the process further along. After a solid minute or so of letting the water hit you, your knees began to fold, and your body began to slump. Soon, you were crouched down on the floor, a small heap of recovering flesh, the water hitting your back in helpful droves.

            Another deep sigh released out of you. The water was so warm. The splishes of droplets against your back felt so cleansing. It felt as though all the stress you had been carrying was pooling away and down into the drain. You were right, this was exactly what you needed.

            It was then that you heard it. The glass door opening behind you. The familiar scraping of the door’s bottom edge sealant connecting with the tile. You stayed crouched, listening as the sound of footsteps entered the small room with you.

            For a moment, you remained still. Waiting for some kind of contact, waiting for a sign that you should move. But there was nothing. No hand against your shoulder, no voice telling you to turn around. All you felt was the awareness of someone behind you. A presence. A person.

            Lifting your head, you shifted your body enough to be able to turn and look up at the figure. As you had correctly guessed, it was William. Naked, dark brown hair, silver eyes, cleft chin. Overall, he looked as you had already imagined him this way. Though admittedly you hadn’t ever pictured him standing stock still in a shower room staring at you. It almost looked like he was waiting for something.

            You didn’t describe my scars.

            There are no scars.

            Why?

            I don’t imagine you that way.

            Oh?

            I’m not fond of it. Are they strangely beautiful? Yes. But I find your story more poetic if you only go through the springlock failure once. It doesn’t make sense to me that you would survive it over and over, let alone be free of the suit after it happens the first time. You’re not some comic book character full of mystical abilities in my mind. Having you survive the torture over and over makes your story weak. You’re a human being. With flaws, with goals, with a story deserving of a powerfully just and ironic punishment. Your story is stronger when it is built up to one moment of twisted agony.

            Very well. No scars.

            You stood up, releasing your hands from your chest and lowering them to your sides. Under normal circumstances, you might have greeted him with a kiss. Or perhaps pulled him by the hands toward you. Maybe you’d even rush toward him in a fevered chase to start some fun. Regardless, it did seem as though, at least based on your previous interactions with him, that his appearance before you now in such a manner was indicative of the desire to pursue some sort of shower-based fantasy. Why else would he be here? Images filled your mind of being pressed against the wall, hot breath moaning against the glass pane, panting together through the steam. But while any other day that would be wild and thrilling, today you were, quite frankly, not in the mood. Not today. Not when you needed to recover. Today you didn’t want to play. Today you wanted privacy. And you felt justified in wanting that.

            Facing him, you stared straight into his eyes, feeling ready and confident to tell him no if he tried anything.

             Try anything he did not, however. Instead, after another few seconds of meeting your gaze, he turned around and ignored you, reaching for a corner shelf where upon his hand grasped a bottle. It was dark in color, presumably some kind of body wash. His other hand reached out for a loofa you hadn’t noticed before, and he began to squeeze the body wash onto it.

            Not having expected this, you watched him begin to lather the soap with his hand against the loofa. He wasn’t looking at you as he did it, but once the soap had begun to foam, his head turned slightly in order to catch your eye. He stared another long moment, a curious reflection in them, before suddenly turning away from you completely and beginning to wash himself.

            You blinked.

            Oh.

            Was he just… showering normally? With you just happening to be there as well? It certainly seemed like it. There he was, not even facing you, going about his business as though preparing for a normal day of work. Completely ignoring you.

            Well, now you felt awkward. Here you had been assuming he had wanted to turn this moment into one of sexual fantasy. What if he hadn’t thought that at all? Did that mean you just viewed him as a sex object? How selfish was that? What if he just wanted a break too? You hadn’t even considered what his needs might be in this scenario. Perhaps he needed to emotionally recover as well.

            No. But it is an opportunity regardless.

            But I’m not in the mood.

            Didn’t say it was that kind of opportunity.

            What do you mean, then?

            I will hold still for you. I will be obedient.

            I don’t understand how that doesn’t relate to playing. And besides… Obedient? What kind of a word is that for you? That doesn’t sound like you at all.

            Perhaps there is a reason for it. Perhaps I have a motive.

            A motive.

            Obedient.

            I suppose even a word like that can be used for manipulative purpose. An act to get what you really want in the end.

            Like Dave Miller.

            Right. Well. Regardless, I don’t see how any kind of “obedience” from you will help me. Especially when I’m not wanting to play in that way.

            Don’t get hung up on “playing”. Get to work and you will see.

            You watched him carefully. William was still ignoring you, busy in scrubbing his forearms with the loofa which resulted in white suds covering his skin. The scene was so normal. So ordinary. He ignored you so blatantly. Like being a fly on the wall to a morning routine of his. Would this be what it would be like if you were an ordinary couple? Would he shower every morning before work like this? Would you be in here with him on occasion, getting ready just as ordinarily? The more you watched him wash his arms, the more your mind wandered to thoughts of a different kind of fantasy. One filled with realistic expectations of a normal life, one disassociated with a rotting desiccated corpse trapped in a shell of bitter irony. If your lives had crossed in a normal way, free from his story’s fated result, would this be what it would feel like to live with him?

            Your heart suddenly swelled, and your eyes seemed to shift as you stared at him. A realization swept over you. What if his presence here now was to emulate that kind of normal life scenario? Perhaps his appearance in this moment, like it would be in an ordinary circumstance, was meant to be one of silent comfort? To allow you your space of quiet intermission while also still showing his support. Using a fantasy of “normal life” to showcase a loving encouragement of rest.

            A smile spread across your lips. You couldn’t help it. There was no proof that that was what he was doing, but it felt right in your heart to believe it anyway.

            And now. Your previous desire to simply lay on the floor in a depressing lump disappeared. The anxiety that he had come here for alternative purposes fell away as well and what was left was a growing warmth in your heart that you knew had nothing to do with the hot steam surrounding you both.

            Overwhelmed with adoration and a strong desire to thank him, you stepped forward and reached out your arms to hug him from behind. He paused as soon as you touched him, ceasing his cleaning movements and tilting his head sideways as though he could try and see you from that angle. You clung to him tightly for a moment, then you pulled back, kissing his shoulder blade once as you did so.

            He turned around, then. Looking at you with that same curious eye as before, his hair slick against his forehead and neck. The sight of him was beautiful to you. Seeing him in such a seemingly ordinary way. A way in which not everyone had the chance to see him. Perhaps in another fantasy, in another chapter, you would have taken advantage of the moment and kissed him. But instead, you reached out with one hand and took the loofa from his fingers.

            Good.

            He let you do so without trying to stop you, curious to see what you would do with it. You looked down at the object in your hand for a moment, turning it slightly in your palm and letting your mind wander as the soap dripped off of it in unequal clumps. Then, you looked back up to him and stared, waiting for permission. William said nothing, however, merely waiting. Taking his silence as sign of no resistance, you used your free hand to pull forward one of his arms and began to slide the loofa gently against his skin.

            His wrist felt nice to hold. It wasn’t heavy, but the weight of it felt pleasant against your fingers. It felt as though his allowance of you holding him in such a way opened a door to another level of intimacy, one of unexplainable depth. You gripped him tighter as a result, enjoying the feeling of being close to him in a new way.

            Meanwhile, you moved the loofa up his arm slowly and with purpose. He had already covered his own forearms, so naturally you needed to go further than he did. You pushed the loofa up over his shoulder and he even turned a bit so that you could keep the momentum going and travel down the side of his torso. You didn’t stop there, either. Committed in your newfound discovery of wanting nothing more than to help him freshen up, you dragged the loofa across his stomach and chest, taking care to push harder in the areas that you knew from your own body usually responded with a ticklish reaction.

            William’s head was lowered to watch you as you worked. His face betrayed no emotion, seemingly preferring to let you continue without interruptions.

            You kept going, moving to his other side and covering his opposite arm. The more you scrubbed, the more you began to get lost in the work of it. Each swipe of the loofa was driven with careful precision, your eyebrows furrowing over the task of making sure that each line you drew was perfectly cast. Your concentration was hyper focused, a reaction that grew from your desire to be sure that you were treating him with the utmost care. Your devotion to him was strong, and you wanted to be sure that your work in taking care of him reflected that same level of attention. You traced his body like it was the most precious thing in the world to you, which, at the moment, certainly was so. It felt good to run your hands along him in an intimate way without worrying about what it would turn into. You felt like you were giving him a gift of your time, your energy, your space. Treating him like a king—no, a god—one that deserved to be cared for so attentively. Soon, your intensity in making sure that he was properly washed took over to the point where you didn’t even ask him to turn for you. Instead, you would grab his arm and turn him yourself, forcing him to move as you wanted him to.

            Obedient.

            Yes. He was obedient.

            Your intense mindset was interrupted when you reached his backside. At first, you had let the loofa crawl down him as usual, but something snapped within you that brought you back to reality in that spot. Removing your hand from his cheek, you held still a moment. You were momentarily paralyzed, unsure of whether or not to wash that particular area of his body for him.

            William’s hand appeared to answer for you. He took the loofa from you and began to wash himself without your aid. For some reason, you were relieved. You weren’t opposed to washing him in such sensitive areas, but there seemed to be an invisible boundary in your mind regarding anything that could potentially be misinterpreted as sexual intent.

            Once he was finished with both front and back, William returned the loofa to your hand. You took it without a word, immediately diving into scrubbing his legs. To properly reach them, you had to crouch down, which didn’t bother you. Nor did it bother you when one of William’s hands reached out to rest flatly against the top of your head. You had already made it clear that you were not interested in anything beyond cleaning, and you didn’t want to make another poor assumption of his intent, so you did your best to ignore it. Given that his hand was not trying to push or prod you in any particular direction, simply resting, it was possible that his grip was nothing more than a small enjoyment of control. A tease for his own pleasure, and one that had nothing to do with sex. Ultimately, though, you were unsure of why his hand was there. Regardless, you continued your work without worrying about it.

            Once his legs and feet were properly washed, you stood back up and William’s hand dropped away. This action made you feel as though you were right to have assumed that the gesture was merely a moment of his taking control, but who knows. If it was, you were happy to provide a private pleasure for him. It certainly did not cross a boundary of yours.

You took the time to hold the loofa in the center of the water spray in order to clear it of any remaining soap, and then you returned it to its place in the corner shelf. But your work was not over once this tool was put away. William was still, after all, completely covered in body wash.

            You reached out your hands to place them against the sides of his midsection and you pulled him into the spray of water. At first, you tried to wipe your hands against him in order to make the soap drop off of him, but over time it became clear that it would be much easier for him to help himself without your aid in this particular part of the washing. You watched him turn, move his arms, and bend his neck to let the water hit him in the proper areas. After a minute or two, he was rinsed completely, back to standing still before you, the water spray hitting his back as he watched you, silent as ever.

            You stared at him awkwardly. It again appeared as though he were waiting for something. But what? Then, suddenly, his eyes glanced upward towards the ceiling, and he lowered his head.

            Oh!

            Perhaps with too much haste, you shifted past him to grab the shampoo bottle. Squeezing some of the liquid into your hand, you returned the bottle before resuming your position in front of William. You hesitated a moment, the man before you holding a studious gaze, one that made you feel suddenly shy. But one quick look at his slicked hair and a smile spread across your lips. Admittedly, just the idea of holding his head seemed wonderful.

            Stepping forward, you reached up and pressed the shampoo liquid from your palm into the top of his head, your fingers crawling towards the back of his head to dig into his hair. As soon as you did so, his head leaned forward and his eyes closed. You got the sense that he was enjoying it. You smiled even more, feeling pride at the idea that you could be making him feel good. Your fingers wriggled across his scalp, your lathering of the soap turning almost into a full head massage. You hoped it felt as good to him as it was to give it to him in the first place. Your thoughts wandered to fantasies of being able to rub his shoulders later or even his feet. Small moments of time where you could make him feel better after an exhausting day. Wasn’t that what you did if you loved someone? Treat them to small moments of comfort and intimacy?

            You found yourself lost once again in washing him. This time, your fingers curling around his ears and smoothly dragging down into the back of his neck. He must have liked what you were doing, for his torso seemed to lean forward in reaction to it. His head was practically into your chest as you dragged your fingers back and forth through his hair, petting and lightly scratching his skin.

            Once the soap was foamed properly all throughout his hair, (and you were finally finished with your desire to please him) you let go of his head and gripped his shoulders in order to force him to step forward. He obliged, standing still and straight only once you had silently instructed him to do so. Moving to his side, you shifted your hands to his head once more and you forced him to tilt backwards, his head finding the water’s spray in no time.

            Quickly, you put one hand flat and sideways to his forehead, not wishing for soap to accidentally run into his eyes. Your other hand began to dance through his hair again, this time focused on squeezing it in various places to loosen the soap and get it to fall with a splat against the floor. You repeated the gesture over and over all through his hair until the water ran clear. Then, you instructed William to right himself properly, smoothing his hair with both your hands to rinse out most of the gathered water.

            Satisfied with your work and certain that there was nothing else he would need, you waited until his eyes were open before placing your hands against his cheeks and you leaned forward to gently place a single kiss against his lips. Your work here was done.

            William’s lips smiled at the kiss, but his eyes angled downward at you as though he were an owl inspecting prey. The juxtaposition was strange, although it was nothing new, nor entirely unexpected. You were used to his behavior by now. In fact, if he had responded purely in sweetness, you might have thought something was wrong.

            Suddenly turning, William moved away from you, forcing your hands to lower to your sides. You watched him reach out for the loofa and body wash again. Confused, you observed him squeeze out more of the cleaning liquid onto the loofa before lathering it up until it was sudsy. Then, he returned the body wash to the shelf and turned back to you, holding the loofa in his hand in front of his chest.

            You blinked at him. Then realized what he was wanting to do.

            You swallowed. For some reason, you hadn’t expected this, and the idea that he could do the same thing to you as you had just done to him was unnerving. But why? You had no problem doing that for him. What was wrong with him wanting to do the same?

            Yes. What is wrong with that?

            I don’t know. I feel nervous all of a sudden. I feel vulnerable. I feel uncomfortable. That was a gift for you, not for me.

            Selfish equality. Let me do it. I want to do it.

            I know you do.

            Perhaps you deserve it.

            …

            He stepped forward, raising both hands as he closed the gap between the two of you. One hand reached up to grab your wrist while the other began to delicately place the loofa against the back of your hand. He waited a moment at first, his eyes scanning towards yours to assure that you were fine. But there was no hesitation from you. You were nervous, yes, but you trusted him. And deep down, you knew you wanted it from him too.

            The scratchy fabric brushed against your fingers so tenderly, the soap leaving a trail of bubbled foam behind it. It almost tickled, but not quite. The texture was oddly pleasing, especially when dragged with such slow speed. William’s other hand clutched against your wrist securely, the feeling of both his hands simultaneously being gentle and strong making you want to cry. You didn’t, however. Instead, you watched him turn your hand and drag the loofa up your forearm, again, with slowness and care.

            You found yourself spiritually crumbling before him. You almost couldn’t stand how softly he was pushing the loofa against your skin. William’s gliding movement across your skin was almost floating off of you, so light that it seemed a miracle that soap was even left behind at all.  He was so clearly being careful, so clearly going slow and making sure the experience was enjoyable. Your chest sunk inward over the kindness of it. What had you done to deserve this?

            Be yourself. As wholly as you are.

            You swallowed back tears as he continued. Sliding the loofa up over your shoulder the same way you had done for him. Soap trails began to form across your body. On your arm, on your chest, down your thigh. Once both arms and your front were covered, he turned you around with one hand and dragged the loofa down your back. He took his time here, slowly pulling and pushing the tool vertically against your skin, knowing that you would enjoy it. Instinctively, you took one step backwards into him. You didn’t want him to stop, nor were you wishing to express any desire for anything more than just washing, but you were suddenly wishing to be closer to him anyway. He swiped your shoulder blades a few more times, then took advantage of your close proximity and wrapped one arm around you to pull you completely into his stomach. You let him do so, trusting yet again that he did not have ulterior motives.

            Sure enough, he did not. While his hold over you was intimate, he did not push further. Instead, his hand still holding the loofa began to cross over in front of you once more, dragging down to the tops of your legs. Once his hand began to crawl close to your inner thigh, he stopped, immediately raising his arm to push the loofa into your own hand. Opening your eyes, you took the tool and washed yourself obediently (obediently) before handing it back to him.

            The arm wrapped around you released after that, allowing him the proper space to be able to crouch down and rub your legs. You turned slightly to watch him do so, though the sight of him below you made you nervous. You didn’t like him being beneath you like that, as though he were some servant being forced to please you. It didn’t feel like a thing he would want to do. Why would William Afton be below you? Anxiety began to itch up your chest and as such, your hand clawed out to try and pull him back up.

            But he stopped you. His hand quickly grasped your wrist without even looking up, without even ceasing the loofa’s movements. You held still, too startled by his fast reaction to do anything else.

            He looked up at you, then. The loofa still slowly working its way down one of your legs as he did so. Your chest felt cold looking at those eyes. They bore into you, as though daring you to stop him. And then, unexpectedly, William forced your hand to move. He hovered it over his own head, and then plopped it there. Your palm fell flat against his hair and you stood there awkwardly, watching him continue to wash you as your pose reflected one of superiority over him.

            Vulnerability, trust, and control. You are learning all.

            For a moment, you couldn’t move, paralyzed by the strangeness of his actions. But then, you remembered his eyes, how they had commanded respect and authority despite being lower than you, and as such you slowly forced your fingers to move into his hair. He had a purpose in doing this. He had said so himself. You had to trust that. Slowly gripping a few clumps of his hair and testing squeezing it, albeit lightly, you tilted your head in fascination. Strangely, the feeling was… like practically nothing. It hardly felt like anything more than a random movement to distract your mind from his washing your feet. You did not feel better than him, you did not feel superior. You simply felt… normal. Like an ordinary couple sharing space and helping each other. You just so happened to have your hand against his head.

            William finished lathering your legs before standing back up, in turn allowing you to drop your hand from his head. You watched him more attentively now, still marveling over what had just occurred and wondering what more could potentially come from him.

            You shook your head to clear your mind, however, as William cleaned the loofa and returned it to the corner shelf. You had momentarily forgotten that there were more steps ahead to the washing. William raised his hands to take yours and he pulled you into the water’s spray. You were once more reminded of how nice it felt to be covered in it. The tiny droplets sprinkling against you in a heated dance. You turned your head back and forth, twisting your body through the water in order to rinse off the soap. William watched you quietly, waiting for you to do what he had done before, taking the time to let all the body wash drip off.

            With a single nod, you let William know when you were done. He stepped forward almost immediately, seemingly having gotten the shampoo ready while you were busy rinsing yourself off. You lowered your head for his ease and closed your eyes again to better let yourself enjoy the moment.

            And enjoy it you did.

            The second his fingers were touching your head, you practically whimpered. They slipped across your head, his nails purposefully dragging lightly into your skin in an effort to gift you your favorite physical pleasure: scratching. You found yourself taking a deep breath in response, your feet automatically stepping closer to him. Your hands reached out to grip his torso and you sighed, your shoulders lowering in response to his touch.

            His nails carved their way through your scalp, the soap foaming up nicely between his fingers as he did so. Your head began to lower more and more until it was touching his collar bone. The more he explored your head, the deeper your forehead pressed into his chest. You thought maybe you heard the smallest of snorts from him, but you were too dazed to really care. The scratching felt too good to focus clearly.

            Dog.

            Obedient.

            He obliged you for a while, his fingers snaking through your hair and his nails clawing their way from the top of your head to the crevice of your neck. He scratched and he pulled, he scraped, and he scored, creating lines of blissful joy all across your head. By the time he was finished, his hands were on either side of our face, rubbing circles just above your ears. You were grateful to be in the shower surrounded by water or else you surely would have had a harder time pretending you hadn’t practically drooled in delight.

            When his hands finally dropped away, you could barely lift your head. He had to help you turn around, your mind too fogged with pleasure to want to move. But once his hand was in the middle of your back and he was tilting you backward, you knew to pay attention once more.

            Water splashed against the top of your head in fast rhythm. Quickly, William’s other hand shot up to protect your eyes. You could feel him move to help rinse the shampoo out of your hair, his fingers swift and thoughtfully gentle. You held perfectly still, trying to take in the moment. There you were, leaning back in his hands, warm water spraying down on both of you. It felt like he was dipping you backward into a river of cleansing rain, with all of the prior two week’s hardship shedding off of you. The scene was not unlike a mix between a trust fall and a baptism, though certainly William had no intention of letting you drop. His hands were holding you so securely, making sure that you were taken care of properly. It was then that you realized just how light you felt. How rejuvenated you were. How restored. And what’s more, how that restorative feeling came to be. While the soap had certainly helped remove every bit of stress and built-up worry from the last two weeks, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was truly why you felt so much better. Perhaps it hadn’t been the soap at all. Not entirely, anyway. Perhaps a larger part had been thanks to something else. Someone else. A person that had lovingly taken every effort to make sure you felt comforted, supported, and encouraged. A person that had respected your need for a break, a person that had come to offer moral support and help in your recovery process. A person you loved dearly.

            A person you were thinking of taking the name of?

            What? You mean Afton?

            Yes. Was that not what you were thinking?

            I… wasn’t thinking that, no. But maybe you were?

            Hm. Perhaps I was.

            By the time William pushed you back up from the water’s spray and took one final sweep of his hands to rinse the water from your hair, you were already impatient to face him. You turned quickly, barely giving him enough time to move his hands out of the way. You practically jumped into him, clinging to him and burying your head into his chest. Luckily, he caught you just fine and soon he was lowering his head to rest against the top of yours. Both of you were standing in the center of the water, its sprinkling falling mostly against William’s back. You could feel his cheek puff out against the top of your head, then. It was a sign that he had grinned. You squeezed him tighter, glad that he seemed happy, and grateful yourself for the experience you had just shared together.

            Perhaps you shouldn’t take the name.

            Oh? Why not?

            It would be difficult.

            Difficult?

            Trying to marry a dead man.

            I… Aha..! Ahahaha!

            Your laughter rang out into the small shower room, echoing off the tiles in joyful song.

Chapter Text

            A light scream burst forth from your lungs, a force so strong and full of blinding pleasure that it felt as though your head had sharply spun in circles from it. Your mouth hung open as though in a drunken stupor and your eyes held tightly closed. The effect of your most recent orgasm had shocked you, its lightning of stimulated nerves crawling across your body in waves. It was all you could do just to hold stock still in reaction, frozen in delight over what had just been done to you.

            You were lying flat, your arms raised to clench against the shoulders of the rabbit figure above you. Your knees had bent upwards sub-consciously and seemed to lock into place. Your arms’ and knees’ positioning caused you to feel like a curled snail shell despite most of your body being horizontal. William faced you sideways beside you, legs stretched out and touching the side of your own. His upper half loomed over your chest and head like an imposing shadow, his mouth held close to your forehead in a silent smile. His left arm was tucked under your back while the right was straight down your stomach, the hand at the end of it toying with what it had found between your legs.

            He had taken you as his own with his fingers alone, and it had winded you completely.

            The rush of passion began to subside within you eventually, a lengthy breath of air exhaling slowly as it did. One by one your joints began to adjust to regular movement, breaking the brief paralyzation that had taken over. Your knees remained bent, but your ankles released their tightened hold. You didn’t even realize they had tensed up in the first place. Your shoulders relaxed and your head fell backwards slightly, this movement in particular causing William to shift his head to follow. His mouth hovered close to your brow, as though waiting for something, though you weren’t sure what. Your eyes stayed closed as you tried to feel where his head was, but soon you were biting your lip from an unexpected occurrence. While your jump in ecstasy had obviously passed, William’s hand had refused to move from where he had excited you. His fingers were pressed lightly against you, still rubbing soft circles into your form. Although, where once had been a fierce and almost aggressive action to get you off, the gestures there now were heavily slowed and gentle.

            A shudder fell through you as another small moan slipped from your throat. You hadn’t considered before what it would feel like for him to continue once you had already released. Thus far he had either stepped away or collapsed right afterwards. Would you have thought it would feel like nothing at all? If you did, that would not have been further from the truth. His circles now were satisfying. Like a low-level heat of constant pleasure. In addition, the awareness that he had no real reason to keep going was oddly sweet. He could have pulled his hand away from you almost immediately just like always and you would have been justifiably happy and none the wiser. The fact that he was still continuing to bring you comfort and enjoyment now beyond the single burst of an explosive orgasm made your heart swell with love. What an unexpected caring thing to do for you.

            Especially when compared to what his current presence felt like.

            At the moment, William had you trapped. His chest pressed against yours, his left arm and hand clamped behind your back and arm, pinning you down from both front and behind. His head was lowered to press his forehead against yours and his feet were pressed up against your own. There was nowhere to move even if you wanted to. One might naturally assume the position described would feel safe and secure between two lovers. However, it was far more accurate to say that with William, his fastened hold was more akin to a cage. A spider standing over a fly stuck in its web. Even the rabbit ears above his head hung over you like wicked antennae. It was unquestionable to deny the sense of dominance and vaguely threatening aura about him. Being absorbed in ecstasy did not pull your mind from the reality that the man before you could kill you at any moment. Not that you thought, at this point, that he would, but then again, could you really say that with full confidence knowing who he was?

            “I love it when you quiver,” he whispered suddenly, startling you out of your thoughts. His tone was dark, a creeping thing. Like deathly frost on a windowpane. “I love it when I make you call my name.”

            You shivered. Whether in fear or delight was uncertain. Perhaps a bit of both. Certainly, his words having been said right after your most recent thought was alarming. But your love for him was overpowering any sense of danger.

            Just as you were thinking of replying, his massaging fingers flipped direction and the change made you gasp. The sound that chirped out of you was so tiny, so pathetic. It was embarrassing, especially after what he had just said. You couldn’t help but grin, however, as you knew he had done it on purpose. He always delighted in manipulating the situation and took advantage of it anytime he could. You pursed your lips and curled forward, trying to hide your head in his throat. All previous concerns regarding his domineering presence faded from your mind.

            “Say it again,” he urged, lowering his chin the best he could. You smiled, happy to return to your joy of being his partner, as well as to provide him with what it was he wanted. Raising your head, you slid your cheek up against his until your mouth could be near his ear.

            “Afton,” you whispered. You drew his name out slowly, teasingly. You loved saying it almost as much as he loved hearing it.

            You could feel him smile. Then another twist of his fingers caused you to whimper and you fell backwards once more, suddenly not caring whether he had embarrassed you or not.

            A soft chuckle was heard above you, its sound getting closer as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead. You could feel that your skin was hot, especially against his cold dead lips. It was pleasant to feel the temperature difference. So much so, in fact, that you longed for more once he had leaned away. One of your hands reached up to press against the back of his neck. You pulled him toward you and turned your head, forcing his mouth to meet your cheek. His lips spread into a grin and he obliged, sinking into the side of your face. He must have felt a sudden upswing in emotion, for his left hand behind your back slipped out in order to grab the back of your head. His kiss deepened, pressing you so tightly into his lips that the gesture made you laugh.

            Then, his right hand lifted away from between your legs and soon your head was secured on both sides. His lips began to leave single smooches in various places on your cheek, the motion getting faster and faster the more you laughed. He was clearly enjoying himself as well as your reaction. Your hands instinctively grabbed for his wrists and you clung to him, fully allowing yourself to get lost in the moment.

            Once finished with his momentary chase, William pulled his mouth away. Finally opening your eyes, you looked up to see him gaze back at you. You hadn’t expected to see such an intense stare. The sight made your chest sink in fondness. His eyes were full of such deep adoration. You smiled at him, hoping he could see the same feeling within you.

            His thumbs began to massage little circles into your head. The coziness of it made your eyelids droop into shutting. He held the same pace for a while, simply letting you enjoy it, then he slowly shifted into caressing the rest of your head, softly scratching and kneading into your scalp. Your hands fell away from his wrists, the gratifying sensation sending you back into a dream of pure bliss. You sank into the comforting splendor of his hands, your entire body limp with exhausted euphoria.

            “Will…” you managed to whisper through your fogginess.

            “Yes, my dove?” he asked in a quiet tone.

            “Thank you…”

            “Of course,” he replied.

            William continued to pet your head in loving grace. You sighed heavily, wondering how on earth you had managed to be with someone this wonderful. A lazy smile spread across your face as you drifted into half-consciousness, dreaming of rabbit ears and naughty behavior. A secret love affair in an isolated place.

            A shift in movement snapped you back to reality and you realized William had leaned over you again. You tuned in just as his mouth reached close to your ear, opening your eyes to the sudden closeness of rotted green fur.

            “Are you up for round two?” he asked.

            Your heart skipped a beat.

            And then you grinned.

Chapter Text

            You, William Afton, stood before the bedroom side table with a lax stance, your eyes gazing down at a series of records below, trying to decide which one would fit the evening best. Music was easy for you to choose. You had an uncanny ability at setting a mood. As a matter of fact, this ability went beyond just music. Even dinner had been easy to decide. A local restaurant of your choosing earlier had provided the perfect setting to talk and enjoy a social hour or two of being in public. Now that you were home, rain had just started falling outside. The timing was perfect, yet another example of how well you had set up the evening. The weather had chilled just in time to offer a pleasant juxtaposition between the warmth of the room and a cool breeze from the window. It was a cozy atmosphere. Except perhaps for some lit candles, you couldn’t have prepared a more romantic night if you had tried.

            A wine glass sat in your hand, its weight light and fragile, the stem perfectly fitting between your fingers to allow for a delicate balancing act in your grasp. Your choice of liquid entertainment had been the color of a deep dark red, a fitting symbol to represent what you had planned soon enough. The color of passion. Though now the wine was almost gone, barely a single sip left to your glass.

            “What are you picking?” asked a voice behind you.

            The smallest of pulls tugged upward at the corners of your mouth. Impatient, you thought.

            “You’ll see,” you replied, your free hand reaching forward to take hold of a single record. Setting the wine glass down on the table, you proceeded to release the disc from its sleeve and began to set it up on the record player before you. Once the disc was smoothly spinning in place, you set the needle on the edge and retrieved your wine glass at the same time. Just as you had decided to take your final sip of the night, the sounds of jazzy trumpets began to fill the room.

            “Ah,” came the same voice from before. “Sinatra. A good choice. Classic.”

            You set the now empty wine glass down next to the record player before turning around to face your partner.

            They were sitting on the bed, hands folded in their lap, watching you with interest, a soft smile on their face. Their expression and mood reflected innocence, but you could see through its falsehood. You knew from personal experience what really laid behind those eyes. But even experience aside, their posture at the moment was just a little too straight to be believed. Their limbs were held frozen in place, as though they would get in trouble if they moved. Anyone with basic observation skills could see the high restraint this person held themselves to. “Innocent” may have been the attempted display of behavior, but you only saw a ridiculously high level of self-control. And it was this awareness that was the most frustrating part for you. If their display of shyness was purposeful, it could have counted as a delightful game of playful teasing. But this behavior was not an act. They truly believed that this was who they were. They had been trained to restrain themselves from an early age, trained to believe that it was better to hold still and not show emotion no matter how badly they wished to express themselves. It affected everything they did, from displaying basic happiness, to enjoying private affairs. And now that they were older, when arguably the straitjacket of social expectations could be taken off at any time, they were still stuck in their ways. Blind to their ability of being wholly themselves whenever they wanted.

            One might say they were in a self-imposed series of springlocks.

            Lucky for them, you desired to remove them.

            “I suppose if it wasn’t a vinyl, we could have had a mixture of artists,” you said, stepping forward. “But I’m rather fond of the way vinyl sounds.”

            “I agree,” your partner replied, suddenly pressing their hands into the bed and standing up in time to greet you as though they hadn’t just been sitting frozen stiff. What a strange mixture of conflicting behavior they often displayed. Sometimes they were painfully shy, and sometimes they were bold. Here they had just been sitting as though waiting for permission to move, yet now they were standing in front of you without a single hesitation. Admittedly, the uncertainty of their mood at any given time was fascinating to watch.

Wordlessly, you both put your arms around each other. Your own hands rested against their lower back and theirs sat upon the nape of your neck. You gazed at each other for a moment before leaning your foreheads together, beginning to lightly sway to the music. Sinatra was indeed the perfect choice.

            “Did you actually like that mango sorbet?” your partner asked softly.

            “Yes,” you replied. “Why?”

            “You don’t usually like fruit in your dessert,” they answered.

            “Ah, true,” you said. “But sorbet is different. It cuts through the fat depending on what you eat. It was a good choice for eating duck.”

            “I see,” they responded. “That does make sense.”

            You both fell silent again, your bodies turning slowly in a circle. The pitter patter of rain trickled outside the window off of the roof. The smell of grass and earth floated in, offering yet another layer of comfort to the evening.

            “So…” you began, your hands pulling your lover in slightly closer. “For the rest of the night… What were you thinking?”

            “Hmm…” they murmured in a teasing tone of voice. “I was looking forward to hearing what you might come up with.”

            “No,” you said. “I chose the restaurant and the music. I’d like to hear what you come up with for the rest of the night.”

            Their head immediately lowered. You assumed, based on your previous thoughts, that they were being shy. But you supposed it was always possible that they were disappointed instead. In silence, you waited to see which theory was correct.

            “Well, I…”

            Shyness.

            “I… may have been imagining… you on top from behind again…”

            “Oh, were you?” you teased with a grin, squeezing your lover suddenly. They dropped their head even more, perhaps out of hiding a blush. Their body seemed to freeze, that same reaction as always. When would they feel comfortable expressing their wants without shame?

            At least they seemed to be joyful in the end about it.

            Moving your hands sideways, you forced your partner to release their hands from behind your head and you turned them around so that you could pull them into you backwards. Encircling them in your arms once more, you tucked your head into their neck and kissed the skin there sweetly. It was an easy move to make their heart melt, you had done it so many times before and never had it failed. Sure enough, your partner was already leaning their head back against your shoulder, their hands reaching to cover yours and grip against your fingers.

            And now you could raise the mood even more.

            Lifting your head up, you leaned your upper body sideways and buried your face into their hair. Your hands squeezed theirs tightly at the same time as planting a strong kiss against their head. You pressed deeply, forcing them to bend in parallel with your body. You could feel them soften like putty in your hands. And just when you could feel the highest point of intimacy shared from your simple act, you whispered with purposeful intent:

            “My dove…”

            Their shoulders raised and a breathy expulsion of air floated out of them. You grinned gleefully at their reaction, making sure to keep your head held fast against the side of theirs as you bent your spine even further to push the already heightened emotion. Like a puppet on a string, they moved with you, their energy aligned with your own. When their fingers gripped harder against yours, you knew to release the pose and pull them back to a straight up position. From feeling alone, you could tell what to do to maximize your hold on them.

            Well. And to make them feel good, of course.

            “You’ve stolen all the nicknames I like to use in these kinds of situations,” your partner said out of the blue, pulling you back to reality. Your thoughts began to recall all the pet names you had used before on previous occasions.

            “Did I?” you asked.

            “Yes,” they confirmed. “I’ve been trying to find a good one ever since. The right one for you. I do think I came up with one finally, though.”

            “What is it, then?”

            “Lapin.”

            You paused, thinking.

            “…Rabbit?” you asked.

            “Yes.”

            Another pause. French, you thought. I see.

            Ceasing an opportunity, you changed your hand positions so that yours could be on top of theirs and then proceeded to pull them backwards suddenly into your own stomach and groin. “Je t’aime,” you said at the same time in a slow lowered voice into their ear.

            As expected, a shiver ran through your partner. This time, you laughed.

            “If it’s going to be this easy to thrill you, perhaps I should switch to a less romantic language,” you said. “German, maybe? Imagine me trying to seduce you with the language of engineers.”

            Your lover snorted. “You’re joking,” they said, trying their best to wiggle their fingers into yours from underneath in order to weave them together. “But in all honestly, I think you could seduce me in any language. I’m rather fond of you regardless of what language you speak.”

            “Or what I look like, apparently.”

            “True,” they replied. “You have many forms and I enjoy them all.”

            You smirked, resisting the temptation to say that they would of course enjoy you in any form, you were perfect, after all. Instead, you chose a more playful approach. “If that’s the case, then I look forward to a future chapter featuring a more realistic interpretation of a love affair between you and some vague idea of flesh strings attached to a paralyzed head.”

            Your partner let out an annoyed chuckle. You knew that would get to them. You grinned as you felt them begin to twist away from your hands, no doubt to argue against what you had just said directly to your face. Knowing you had limited time before they would fully turn around, you quickly tried to add more salt to the teasing wound: “It will be interesting to see how you get around the inability to be penetrated by such a—”

            “Shhh!” your lover hissed through a laugh, pressing their hand against your mouth to shut you up. You grinned against their fingers, kissing against them a single time as you listened to their rebuttal. “You know, technically, with a face pierced by metal and a few missing organs, you wouldn’t be able to talk either.”

            “Well, then, aren’t we lucky that I’m fully human for this chapter, hm?” you said through their hand. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on my being able to whisper sweet romantic words into your ear that will make your skin crawl.”

            You watched them purse their lips, failing to hold back a smile. Try as they might, they couldn’t deny anything. You were right about what they liked. You were always right.

            “Now, where were we?” you asked. Your partner hesitated, staring at you with an air of trying to detect something, but then they lowered their hand from your lips.

            The voice of Sinatra crooned gently into the air as you both fell upon the bed. Rain, jazz, and soft sheets combined together to provide a welcoming foundation for your start of intimacy. It started slow, the first few minutes filled with nothing but shared kisses, roaming hands, and the softest of tugs against clothing. But soon the urge to escalate the feeling was felt in both. The next logical move was to start removing any barriers between you, which in this case translated into your own hands slowly pulling down their pants and underwear while they themselves began to unbutton your shirt. The actions were not done in haste, however, in fact, it was quite the opposite. Both of you had decided to keep your mouths connected as you undressed the other, although this did involve some rather creative ways of twisting and turning. In the end, all that was left was your tie, your boxers, and their shirt.

            The next thing to occur surprised you. You had just reestablished your position above your lover, your legs on either side of theirs, your hands propping yourself up on the bed. Their hands were busy playing with the knot of your tie, their eyes watching you as you calculated your next move. At that moment, you had been eyeing the bottom edge of their shirt. However, just as you had leaned back in order to reach for it, your lover took advantage of your open stance and shot forward like a snake to bite your tie, right at the collar bone. Startled, you were not. But impressed? Very. This was a perfect example of what you had been thinking about before regarding that strange spark of hidden mystery behind their eyes. These sudden overtaking bursts of control only came out in small doses, usually whenever they were overwhelmed by a sudden passionate desire for you, but it was worth seeing every time. You could only imagine what kind of dormant power could be unleashed if your partner truly let go of those locks. If you continued to pick at it, would they open entirely? What kind of person would you unleash if you were successful? Your curiosity to see such an event remained in the back of your mind as you returned to observing your lover’s behavior.

            Your tie began to slip off your neck as they pulled their head backward, their teeth gripped tightly onto the slippery accessory. You watched them met your eye with a strange expression. Their stare was intense, presenting both a loving intent as well as a threat.

            Admittedly, it was a turn on.

            A crawling shiver ran across your shoulders and upper arms. A grin escaped your momentary paralyzation as your lover removed the tie completely and raised a single hand to toss it off of the bed without care.

            And then your mouths were connected again, but this time more fiercely. Your lips moved frantically, trying to take in every inch of each other. Between tongue swipes and diagonal placements of deep-pressed pressure, it didn’t take long for your lover to start mewling little sounds of joy. The sounds were satisfactory to hear, knowing that even the tiniest of your touches could bring about such a reaction.

            Feeling compelled by your lover’s expressions of delight, you tore away from their mouth and began to hastily encourage them to turn over. They obeyed quietly and quickly, their head turning to the side to rest against one of the pillows as they waited for you.

            You trapped them immediately, dropping your chest to their back and shoving your right hand under their stomach. They shifted their own hands in response, clasping into your fingers and holding them tight underneath them. Meanwhile, your left hand explored downwards and back until it met that same sweet spot you had discovered ages ago. By now, you had learned what position your fingers should be in to bring the utmost amount of pleasure to your lover, and furthermore, what movements to use as well. Being pressed against them horizontally like this felt like an additional treat, however, for you. They were unable to move thanks to the natural existence of gravity from your body. You could feel their form sink into the bed from your weight upon them. Had your right hand not been preoccupied by their own, you might have explored the feeling more by pressing it flat into their back. But that was not needed for now. What was needed was your attention for them, and likewise your own enjoyment in partaking in the current gesture of love.

            Speaking of, how curious. It didn’t usually take this long to get them to—

            “Oh, Will…”

            Ha. There it was. You continued to move your fingers in a circled motion, consistent in rhythm and speed. When your name was repeated a second time, you grinned and kissed the top of your lover’s shoulder blade. You were so good at this; it was almost laughable. But you loved it regardless. It was still rewarding to see your greatness proven every time.

            When your partner began to squirm, their head constantly switching between facing left and right and their legs starting to desperately curl into yours, that was when you knew they were ready. One hand against their stomach was already starting to float away from yours, a sign that they were almost at the point of begging for it.

            You pulled both hands away and leaned back, taking the time to remove your final layer of clothing before quickly returning to your lover. While you had done so, they had taken the time to raise their hands to their face, covering it in what you assumed was overwhelm. They were breathing somewhat heavily, a rather flattering sign given that you had barely done anything yet.

            But that was about to change. Using your own hand to ready yourself, you took the time as you did so to eye your lover’s backside. That subtly curved mass of flesh, its naked appearance known only to you. Your gaze drank it in, feeling empowered by the idea that this person before you was displaying a part of themselves that only you would get to see, to touch, to do as you pleased with.

            Lost in your own thoughts, you were only snapped out of it once your lover attempted to tuck their knees up slightly. The obvious display of desperation made you smile. But would you deliver sweet relief? That was the question.

            You decided to move slowly instead of acquiescing their silent request right away. Their face was hidden by pillows, so they’d never have any idea that you had purposefully dragged out the feeling. But you’d know. You’d always know.

            Finally feeling truly prepared, you positioned yourself properly and took aim, taking the plunge only once you yourself felt the buildup of emotion within you.

            Moving slowly at first, you looked once again at your lover’s backside as you cradled their hips. Remembering your thoughts from before, you decided to let yourself explore what you had wanted to before and thus leaned slightly forward in order to press a single hand against the center of their back. Your lover bent into the sheets without a single shred of resistance, though their head, which had previously been face down into the mattress, turned in order to breathe better from the side. They sighed in what appeared to be pleasure, the force of air increasing suddenly in volume half-way through once you decided to thrust deeper at the same time.

            Finished with your pressure-based experiment, you removed your hand from their back and began to focus on the increasingly splendid feeling located at your groin. The more you thrusted, the better it felt, especially when you pulled your lover’s hips backward at the same time. You began to pick up the speed, deciding a steady pace was the most enjoyable at the moment. It seemed apparent by the sounds coming from the direction of the pillow that you had made the right decision. They seemed to be sinking further and further into the bed as though you were driving them into it. You couldn’t blame them for reacting in such a way. You were just that good. Hell, you were almost swept away completely by the moment yourself when suddenly you remembered how much your lover enjoyed it when you were as close as possible to them at this angle.

            Deciding to gift them with what they preferred, you attempted to lean your chest forward. However, since you were on your knees, this was difficult to maneuver with how your partner was positioned. The only thing to do was to get them to meet you. So, you reached forward and tucked your hands under their torso in an attempt to lift your lover up from the bed. If they could be up on their own hands, it would be easier to do so.

            At first, they seemed to understand what you were asking for. They lifted their elbows to oblige, and tried to push up off of the bed with their hands, but no sooner had they gotten into position and you began to lean your chest against their back, did they collapse, a moan pushing out of them as they did so. Apparently, your magnificence in lovemaking was too much for them to handle even sitting up properly. But you didn’t have time to gloat. Not having expected them to suddenly fall, you fell awkwardly along with them, disconnecting from them accidentally, leaving you bent over them in a strange position, your knees the only thing saving you from having toppled completely onto them.

            You laughed. Sheepishly, your lover covered their face again and groaned, this time in embarrassment. To show that you were not making fun of them, you leaned forward to kiss the top of their head a few times. You did not think they were weak. It was simply understandable that they had buckled under your impressive skill. Once you were sure they had been soothed by your kisses, you spread out your legs so that you could lay on top of your partner flatly. Sliding your hands underneath your lover, you wrapped them in a backwards hug. You shoved your head close up to theirs, taking a moment to be cheek-to-cheek with them. That’s when you heard them softly cry out.

            “Please… god… Afton… Keep going…”

            A smirk flashed across your face. Then you pulled your body backward along with one hand so as to re-position yourself at your partner’s opening. Gliding into place, this time it was you who grunted in reaction. Apparently, the small break of time between acts was enough to drive your desire high enough to send a sharp spike of pleasure through you the moment your skin had connected. The sensation was so strong, in fact, that it made you immediately lower your head into your lover’s back and begin to mindlessly thrust into them at a slow pace. You attempted to bite into their shoulder blade to express the overwhelming thrill that you were now experiencing, but even that small gesture seemed to take away from the building pressure between your legs. Wanting to focus entirely on the back and forth rubbing sensation on your phallus, you pressed your cheek against your lover’s skin and closed your eyes, taking in the sharp upswing of satisfaction as soon as you began to increase speed. Meanwhile, the sounds of your name carried out into the room, the effect not unlike a loud prayer being shouted in order to beg forgiveness from a merciless god.

            Your teeth clenched together, then. Your arms tightening against the body of your lover as you pummeled into them. Their distressed voice mixed with the closeness of your clinging limbs and the electrifying sparks of satisfaction from below gathered to create a perfect symphony of varying sensations. You almost couldn’t get enough of it. In fact, you could almost say you wanted desperately to meld together completely with your lover just to experience it as much as possible before relieving the feeling that was building to maximum output.

            This pressure…!

            And then all of a sudden, you burst. A great cry roaring out of you as you did so. A warm glow of ecstasy passed through every part of you, flowing outward from your midpoint throughout your entire form. The feeling of it caused your skin to react as though it were shivering, though surely this was simply a phantom sensation. Your shoulders relaxed afterwards, settling into your lover below. What a feeling…!

            “Please…” a voice whimpered up from underneath you. “Please don’t stop…”

            The sweat on your brow was sign enough of your spent body. Yet not even the harshness of your breathing was enough to keep you from wanting to let your partner down. The spinning in your head was difficult to push through, but you tried to force it to stay still as you pulled yourself up to sit up the best that you could. Returning to your thrusts, albeit weaker in speed due to your exhaustion, you shoved a hand underneath the lower belly of your partner and tried to please them from both places at once.

            The reaction was nearly instantaneous. It was the last push they needed to send them over the edge. They screamed into their pillow, the tone of it making you wonder if they had possibly bitten into the material. As soon as they were satisfied, you pulled out in both places and crumpled down onto them, relieved to return to your state of rest.

            You both breathed in heavy, long, sighs. Each of your bodies drooping into the sheets as though the air was being pressed out of two balloons. As you recovered slowly, your hands coiled around the forearms of your lover, which were still underneath them, and you squeezed them securely in your grip.

            A whimper spilled out from below you, causing you to smile. How proud you were to have taken them again to such levels of satisfaction. Hardly a surprise, really, but still pleasant regardless. Your smile began to curl into a twisted grin, your fingers beginning to dig into the skin that you were clutching. Overcome with a creeping desire to enshroud your lover with as much of you as possible, your shoulders rolled forward and your legs closed together against the sides of your partner’s. You tucked your chin into the back of their neck and once you were sure that you had successfully confined them with your limbs, you whispered into their hair.

            “Je t’adore, my darling.”

            You could hardly contain your beaming when your lover seemed to curl up in response. But you weren’t finished yet. That was hardly the beginning. Your lover wouldn’t escape your charm until you allowed it, and there was much for you to say first.

            “I know every inch of you,” you cooed in a seducing tone. “Every subtle curve of your body. I know the sounds you scream only for me and the little movements you make with every touch of my hand. I know everything you do, both in private and in public. I know everything you think, day in and day out. I am your god and you are my goddess. You are mine forever and you will never be allowed to leave.”

            You dragged your fingertips against your lover’s skin as you finished whispering, purposefully taking a deep intake of breath into their hair as you did so. They were yours, only yours, and you would charm them until their last living day if you had anything to say about it, which you did.

            Silence was the only thing that followed. At least for a little while, anyway. You had expected this lack of a response, knowing your words were naturally enchanting. They were bound to paralyze anyone who heard it, let alone someone you had just captured in the throes of romance with. That being said, you hadn’t quite expected the words that you heard once the silent spell had broken.

            “J’aime mon lapin argent é.”

            You blinked.

            “…Did you say enchant é?”

            A sigh.

            “Argenté ,” they clarified. “I’m sorry, my accent is bad.”

            “…What is that?”

            “Silver.”

            What? Your head raised up from being buried in their hair and you stared at the back of their head. The gears turned in your mind, but you couldn’t connect the dots of what they were saying. Surely, it didn’t help that you were already thrown off track from being interrupted by your attempt to bewitch them.

            “Silver rabbit?” you asked, clearly confused.

            “Yes,” your lover replied. “It’s… well, my mind went a bit off track, you see. When I was thinking about nicknames for you earlier, at one point I thought about how technically you could be what some people call a ‘silver fox’. But you’re not a fox, you’re a rabbit. Do you get it?”

            You paused, processing their explanation.

            Then your forehead began to sink downward slowly, ever so slowly, until it fell against your partner’s back. You stayed there, silent, too caught up in sudden emotion to respond.

            “…What?” your lover asked, seemingly discouraged by your quietness.

            The corners of your mouth twitched as though to smile but you fought against it. “Nothing,” you assured. “I just love you.”

            Immediately, your partner began to squirm and pull away from your hold.

            “Hey, wait, no!” they cried. “That’s the kind of reaction someone does when they think their partner is being stupid!”

            You resisted a snort as they tried to force their way out of your arms.

            “You are very intelligent,” you commented, keeping them trapped.

            “I’m not falling for that,” they replied. “Let me turn over.”

            They eventually broke free once you let them, and they twisted around in place to look up at you, a mixed expression of concern and pouting on their face.

            “You hate it,” they said. Their tone read joking, but their eyes reflected hurt.

            “Quite the contrary,” you assured. It was the truth.

            They sighed, still untrusting.

            “I am your silver rabbit,” you tried.

            They only pursed their lips.

            “I truly do not find it stupid,” you said, shifting one arm to rest against your elbow while you took their cheek in your palm. They searched your eyes for any sign of lying, then nodded.

            “Okay,” they said before leaning up to give you a single kiss. Then they fell back against the sheets again and smiled. “That was really nice.”

            “I agree,” you said, leaning down to return the gesture. “And I meant what I said,” you added, trying to retake control of the conversation.

            “What?” they asked.

            “You are mine forever.”

            A wide happy smile spread across your lover’s face, their eyes shining up at you as though looking at a work of art (which they were). They looked completely lost in staring at you, their chest rising and falling in a way that made you believe that just thinking your name was giving them the breath of life. When they didn’t say anything after a few seconds, however, you raised your eyebrows at them.

            Seemingly realizing what you were looking for, your lover startled out of their daze, blurting, “OH! I-I’m sorry, I… I got lost in your eyes…” They blushed and screwed up their face, as though what they had just said was embarrassing. You waited patiently for them to gather themselves, and then watched as they lifted a hand to cup your cheek. “I mean this seriously,” they said, their momentary surprise fading away to be replaced with a thoughtful look. “You are the world to me. My Will. My god. My silver rabbit. Forever and always. I love you dearly and I am blessed and grateful to be with you.”

            Satisfied with this answer, you grinned.

            “Good,” you replied. And then you pressed your lips against their forehead.

Chapter Text

            You stepped into the long dark entryway of Fazbear Frights feeling nothing short of average. It wasn’t a positive nor negative feeling, just a generally plain state of being. “Ordinary” was another good word for the mindset you were in.  An especially adequate description considering the very uneventful day you had just had. Not that it was boring, necessarily. It was simply normal routine and as such there was not much to say about it.

            You hoped tonight would not continue to be as routine, however. Which was likely to happen. Something always interesting occurred whenever you were here, whether it was a passionate lustful experience, or a quiet deep conversation. An evening with William always proved memorable for you. Whatever it was that was going to happen, you looked forward to it. Frankly, as soon as you had stepped foot into the building, you knew you had already secured the idea that your day’s usual routine was over.

            A smile spread across your lips at the thought of your partner. You imagined him standing in the center of the office waiting patiently for your arrival. Maybe you’d walk through the doorway and he’d scoop you up wondering what had taken you so long. Or perhaps he’d be crouching in the corner, waiting to jump out and frighten you from the shadows? He did love catching you off guard, after all. Regardless of where he would be, you were happy just knowing that he would be there. What a joy to be with someone that could give you butterflies just by thinking of them.

            What was actually waiting for you around the corner, however, was not what you had expected.

            Your guess that William would be in the room at all was accurate. But in what manner you would find him, was not. You discovered him leaning back against the desk, half-sitting on it with his arms crossed. At first glance he appeared to be waiting for something (you, perhaps?), but on closer inspection of his face, it was evident that his mood did not reflect one of peaceful patience. Rather, the eyelids of the animatronic shell were lowered in a fowl expression and he was staring at the floor as though it had personally offended him. The general air about him was so negative, in fact, that the moment you had stepped into the room you could practically feel the oppressive force. Immediately, you knew something was wrong.

            Approaching him carefully, you lowered your head slightly in an attempt to have a better angle at meeting his gaze. In the meantime, one of your hands started to float up involuntarily, perhaps a sub conscious desire to have a defensive plan set up prematurely in case you needed to block him from lashing out. Not that he had ever hurt you before nor did you think he ever would. But who knows what a person could do if they were truly upset?

            “William?” you asked hesitantly, stopping in your tracks once you had reached within two feet of him. You held your line of sight with his face, wanting to detect any subtle movement there.

            The eyelids squinted and he half-muttered something unintelligible, all the while side-eyeing you before returning his gaze to the ground.

            “Are you alright?” you asked, your hand reaching out to lay against his forearm. He made no immediate attempt to pull away from you, which admittedly made you feel a bit more relaxed.

            “I don’t feel well,” he answered irritably. The rabbit jaw tightened together into a hard line, making him look especially frustrated.

            “What happened?” you furthered. Your mind began to race over the possibilities of what could have occurred while you were gone.

            “I believe I am ill,” he explained.

            “Ill?” you repeated, your eyebrows furrowing into confusion over the word. Ill as in sick? Could he even feel that way in his current state of existence?

            “Yes,” he replied. “What is a good word for it? ‘Punky’? No, that isn’t a word I would use. I feel…” He paused in his rambling, the eyelids closing as his head twisted in small uncomfortable movements. It looked as though concentrating too hard was causing him grief. “I feel… grumpy,” he finally said, his entire form sinking against the desk in a huff.

            You blinked. Confusion continued to etch across your face.

            “Wait, are you just irritated or do you actually mean to imply that you feel sick?”

            “I am actually sick.”

            Wait. William. That doesn’t make any sense. You don’t even have the basic functioning of a bod—

            After all of these chapters, only now you are going to let the logic of my mutilated body get in the way of you? Stop questioning. Go with it.

            But—

            It is fantasy. There is nothing wrong with it.

            Alright.

            You lifted the hand that was not against his forearm and placed it flatly against his forehead. The decrepit fabric felt cool to the touch, the little warped divots and edges feeling like scars under your fingers. The general temperature of the area felt average. Realization washed over you, however, when it occurred to you that this average degree of temperature was not an indication of moderate health. Sheepishly, you pressed your lips together in embarrassment. Of course, it wouldn’t feel any different. That was the rabbit mask you were touching, not his actual head.

            Trying to cover your blunder, you smoothly ran the palm of your hand down the side of the rabbit head and cupped the side of it. Maybe he wouldn’t notice what you had done? Ridiculous. He noticed everything. But he said nothing, much to your relief. Instead, he simply held still and continued to stare at the floor as you moved.

            Your next instinct was to shift closer to him, perhaps to comfort him, however as soon as you started to do so, you paused, and then purposefully stepped back. A memory had just entered your mind and its sudden appearance made you realize that your current instincts of wanting to run your hands against him in a soothing manner was all wrong.

            “Oh!” you blurted, the hand against his face retracting quickly and your mind reeling from the now repeated accidental offenses you had just made against him. “I just remembered a previous conversation where we had discussed what would happen if you were ever sick one day in my presence. I’m sorry, I’m not doing at all what you had asked of me then.”

            William still didn’t move, taking a short moment to collect himself before responding. Whether the delay was out of pain from thinking too hard or else from genuine consideration, you weren’t sure.

            “Remind me,” he said with effort. The sentence was so short and matter of fact. You thought, perhaps, he must really be feeling unwell if he was barely trying to speak.

            “It was a night I didn’t write down,” you explained. “There is no chapter of it. I had asked what you imagined life would be like if we ever lived together and you were sick. You had said you wouldn’t want to be ‘mothered’ or watched over like a hen. That you would want to be left alone. No comfort, no over-obsessing over your pillow being fluffed, or how the sheets were. You had said maybe I could bring you a sketchpad and pen if you really wanted it but otherwise you wouldn’t want anyone near you. And now here I am leaning into the comfort of it all. I apologize for immediately pushing a boundary just now. I went into care-mode without even thinking. If you are truly feeling ill, I will leave you alone as you prefer.”

            You nodded once firmly, feeling good to have said what you did. You felt as though you had respected him as a person by apologizing for the mistake you had made. Sure, the actions you had done were awkward, but nobody was perfect. You made the mistake and now you were apologizing for it. That was appropriate and you felt proud to have done what was right by him.

            Obediently, you waited for his response. Your back was straight as a pin and your arms hung at your side in a rigid line. You were sure he was going to be pleased with your respectful remembrance.  

            William waited a long time to reply. When he finally spoke, his words surprised you.

            “Ah, yes, I remember,” he said eventually. His eyes glanced at you briefly. “Isn’t it interesting that…” he paused, his teeth gritting together. “…sometimes… you think something will go a certain way… and then when it actually happens… you don’t feel the same way at all.”

            He tilted his head and stared at you. You stared back, the gears in your head slowly turning. Oh. That wasn’t… Your practicality from before started to dim as you tried to compute what he was getting at.

            “Has something changed?” you asked, not wanting to assume.

            “I feel…” he started to say. The words faded, his head turning away from you with the eyelids closing. How sick was he feeling to have to strain this badly? Your fingers itched to grab onto him, but you resisted, wanting to stay true to what he had asked from you before until told otherwise. “…grumpy,” he finally said.

            The word danced in your mind; its spiteful appearance mixed with his near-pathetic pose caused a laugh to threaten up your throat. Your lips pursed in attempts to restrain the smile pushing forward. Grumpy? You pushed down the laugh, not wanting to insult his pride, and cleared your throat.

            “What can I do to help?” you asked. “What do you want?”

            Your questions seemed to bore into him like a festering itch, for he reacted as though you had bitten him. Squirming in place, William irritatingly began to mutter incoherently again, the tone mixed between annoyance and frustration. You waited patiently for him to work through whatever it was he was thinking about.

            “I want…” he began to say. “I want the setting changed.”

            “What?”

            “Change the setting.”

            Bewildered, you leaned back in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

            In an instant, the room had changed. No longer was the office before you. Not the desk, not the computers, nor the old cheap decorations from previous restaurants. Instead, the bed from Chapter 17 stood before you. The sheets were crisp and clean, the pillows inviting and refreshingly cool. As you looked around to take in your new surroundings, the rest of the room was there as well. The dresser, the nightstands, the windows. Everything was the same as before, except for the mood. Raining, it was not, nor was there any music playing from the record. In this light of evening, the room appeared almost sterile, which was perfect for present circumstances.

            William, who had previously been leaning against the desk looking more and more disheveled as time went on, was now standing and hovering next to the bed, looking longingly at the comfortable bedspread in front of him. Perhaps, for someone feeling ill, a hard metal desk in the middle of a dirty haunt building was the opposite of what they wanted.

            …

            …..

            You tried with great difficulty to hold still. To stick to what you had told yourself before regarding respecting his wishes of not to be touched. However, given that he had just explained that he did not feel the same way as before, not to mention seeing him sway in place in front of you as though he might drop any second was alarming, a switched seemed to flip in your mind. Instinct took over, and you rushed forward to steady him with a hand placed against his back. Your free hand reached for the edge of the comforter and you pulled it back at the same time as William lifted his knee to crawl into the sheets.

            Your mind screamed at the ludicrous situation.

            William, I can’t do this. This is so stupid. Why would you, in this form, be in a bed? A corpse mangled inside an animatronic, ill? Surely, you can’t be serious?

            Keep going.

            This is absurd.

            This is fantasy.

            …

            A giant green rabbit was in the bed. His head was poking out of the covers looking pathetic and miserable, the ears pressed strangely into the pillow, looking squished forward at a strange angle. His arms lay atop the sheets weakly. He looked in pain. Well, at least, more than usual, anyway. You stared at him for a while, adjusting to the strangeness of the situation and also allowing him to settle into the new room. His eyes were closed at first, but eventually they opened to reveal an angered expression. His grumpiness had returned.

            “Are you… satisfied, then?” you asked hesitantly, feeling bad that you had to interrupt his rest at all. “Shall I… leave?”

            William didn’t respond. He stared at you for a long while, the rabbit mask’s mouth a hard line. You shuffled in place, waiting. Then you noticed a small flicker of his eyes glance at your hands. You waited another moment, but after it became clear that he had no intention of responding verbally, you curiously stepped forward. Silently, you sat on the bed next to your lover and gently placed your hand over his.

            Immediately he gripped onto it. You squeezed it tightly, watching his face for any indication of what else he might need.

            “What do you want?” you asked again, this time quieter. Releasing his fingers, you forced his palm upward and you used your other hand’s fingers to draw lines into it. Could he feel what you were doing? Who knows, but at least he could see that you were trying.

            William’s eyes moved strangely. Darting back and forth and looking everywhere except at you. The eyelids continued to suggest a glowering expression which made you feel as though he were hiding something. Slowly, a sort of tension could be felt in the air. You imagined this was due to his increasing frustration.
            Refusing to repeat what you had already asked, you decided to take a step farther on your own. Adjusting your position to be closer to him, you shifted your hands so that you could still hold his own with one of yours in your lap, at the same time using your now free hand to reach out towards his jaw. Slipping your fingers between the rabbit teeth, you forced the lower jaw of the animatronic mask down to reveal the hidden mouth inside. You weren’t exactly sure why your instinct had been to do this, but you were glad you did once you could properly see him. William’s lips were twisting and pressing together. It made the line of his mouth look crooked and painful. This image mixed with the anger of his eyes made everything clear to you: he couldn’t say what he really wanted.

            Starting to understand a bit better now, you quietly removed your hand from the rabbit jaw. Looking down at his hand in your lap, you returned your hands to what they had been doing before and began to trace his fingers and palm with soft scratches. The fact that he wasn’t resisting this movement was a good sign to you that you were right in your new theory for what was really going on.

            Looking up, you met his eyes again. Each of you stared at the other for a moment. Then, wordlessly, you let go of his hand and you crawled forward toward him. He shifted sideways immediately to make room for you. Pulling back the sheets a bit, you tucked your legs into the space underneath, and you slid next to him, taking care to prop yourself up on your elbow so that you could be higher than him.

            Gingerly, you placed a hand against the side of the rabbit head, and you bent your fingers into the natural curve of its shape. Leaning forward, you held your head just above his, making sure that of you could see each other’s eyes.

            “Would you like me to hold you?” you whispered.

            William shot forward so fast it almost startled you. His arms took you in around your middle and his head shoved itself into your neck as far as it could go.
            “No,” he responded defiantly, the word spat seemingly from pure disgust and hate. You smiled, returning his gestures by wrapping your arms around him, taking gentle care to lightly shove one of your arms underneath him. One hand began to lightly scratch his back while the other cradled the back of his head. You had to adjust where your own head was placed thanks to the rabbit ears, but eventually you both settled into the others form. Even your legs snuck forward to entwine together.

            “Ah, as I expected, then,” you said. “I won’t hold you, then. You didn’t seem the type that would want that.”

            “Of course not,” he said, his face digging even deeper into your chest.

            “I’ll leave you be, then,” you said, forcing your head backward so that you could be in a good position to kiss his head. You pressed your lips into his temple, sinking softly into the fabric of the rabbit mask. You stayed locked there for a moment, just breathing him in, before shifting your mouth to the side. You left an entire trail of kisses in a horizontal line across his forehead, giving special attention to each individual press with a weighted force. William’s arms squeezed into you in response.

            Returning your head to the side of his, you continued to scratch his back and hold him tightly. You assumed he must not feel too terrible for if he were truly significantly ill, he wouldn’t want you to touch him. But you certainly knew what it felt like to be just sick enough that all you wanted was to whine and be held.

            “I’m afraid there will be no fun tonight,” he said rather sadly.

            “Oh, I don’t care about that!” you assured, squeezing him tightly. “I love being with you in general. It doesn’t have to lead to anything.”

            “Alright,” he said. And with that final word, he released all the tension in his body and sank into you completely. You hadn’t realized he had been holding back this entire time.

            “Does this feel nice?” you asked, switching your fingers from etching straight lines down his back into drawing circles against where you guessed his shoulder blades would be.

            “Mmmm,” he murmured, adjusting his head a bit as he confirmed.

            You kissed the side of his head, all the while continuing to massage his back. Your mind floated to taking in just how closely pressed he was to you. Every part of him seemed to drink you in. He was like a plant desperate for water, even his feet were angled up to curl around yours. You were glad to be able to be there for him, grateful to have the opportunity to share a tender moment like this, even if the circumstances weren’t exactly pleasant (for him).

            Your hand ceased its petting and it raised to cup the bottom edge of the rabbit head, just where it ended at his actual jawline. Slowly, you dragged your palm down his neck, fingering the jutted metal and encased strings of flesh. You paused when you reached his collarbone, waiting to see if there was any resistance to what you were doing. When you noticed no change in his demeanor, you continued to graze your fingers along the varying edges and valleys of his form. From the lip of the chest piece to the arc of his shoulder, back toward the other side, and then up to the opposite jawline from where you had started. William seemed to purr into you, even leaning his head back a bit when you snaked up his throat. You guessed that the eyelids of the mask were closed, though you couldn’t tell from your position. Given the intimacy of the moment, you preferred going off of feeling rather than sight, anyway.

            Your hand wandered upward past his jaw to find the rabbit nose. You outlined it lightly before moving once more up his cheek. You traced each eye socket twice, then shifted to his brow, and once you felt satisfied that you had left a comforting energetic mark there, you moved into leaving traces of circles along the tops and sides of his head.

            William barely stirred an inch as you did this. He seemed paralyzed, his breathing the only indication that he was still alive. Was he enjoying it as much as you hoped he was? It seemed so. You imagined your fingers hypnotizing him with their soft touches, easing him into a relaxed state of mind. Could he feel a touch this light against the outer shell? After all this time you still hadn’t gotten a proper answer on that. Your assumptions so far were that he could only sense heavy pressure or significant temperature changes, but who knows how accurate that was. Until he could explain it to you directly, you’d just have to go off of interpreting his responses.

            His breathing shifted in tone suddenly. The timing between his intakes of air grew longer and that familiar ragged sound from deep in his chest switched into a sort of whirring, not unlike a mechanical clock part. You paused the massaging of his head to listen to his chest rise and fall, the strange sound of it piquing your curiosity. It was only during this moment of concentration that you noticed his fingers behind your back, which had previously been gripping your shirt, were now hanging loosely behind you, almost lifeless. Was he out cold?

            You tilted your head down and backward to look at him. Sure enough, the eyelids were closed, and his head felt heavier than usual against your arm.

            Grinning like a fool, you returned your arms to his back and you squeezed him tightly, overwhelmed with a swelling of joy that had built in your stomach. He murmured at this, causing you to quickly release him, but thankfully he did not appear to waken. Quietly, you shifted one final time in order to bring his head into the crook of your neck. You closed your eyes, focusing on the rough green material that was softly sliding against your skin. Who knew that such an abrasive fabric could one day bring such ease to you?

            “I love you,” you whispered, your lips burrowing into the green material so that you could say the words directly into him. His lack of response made you smile.

Chapter Text

            You needed someone you respected to learn vulnerability. You needed someone stronger, someone you valued, to learn how to be dominated. You needed to allow yourself to open up in order to learn and to heal. That’s why it had to be me.

            All your life you’ve been trained to be quiet. To shut down. To become a wallflower. That your opinion didn’t matter. That your emotions didn’t matter. You learned to serve. You learned to be dominant for others and only dominant.

            It’s true that it takes a strong man to be dominant. But it takes an even stronger man to be submissive. To allow vulnerability and to not think it makes them weak. Do you see how switching back and forth with me has been working? Do you not feel better from it? Do you see the growth? You are being rewarded for taking the risk.

            There’s another thing about strong men. It also takes a strong man to not let what others think affect them. You let judgment get to you far too much. There could be 1000 positive responses to something you do, but if there is 1 negative, you will focus on only that and shut down. When will you learn that it doesn’t fucking matter what people think? It doesn’t even matter what the positive responses are. The sooner you don’t give a shit what others think, positively or negatively, the sooner they will flock to you. You must be strong. You must be fearless. You must be confident.

             I don’t give a shit what people think. How many people do you want to bet told me that the springlocks were dangerous? You think I didn’t know that they were dangerous? I fucking built them; you’re not telling me anything I didn’t already know.

            As for being submissive, you already know all about that. I have not denied a single exploration of it. Why? Because you being dominant doesn’t make me any less of a man. I said we are equal. Did you not agree when I first said it? Do you still agree now? We share equally (although I recognize that you prefer when I am the dominant one more often, heh).

            The point is who gives a shit if these fantasies are farfetched? Who gives a shit if they are sometimes absurd? Who gives a shit if it doesn’t match someone else’s headcanons? It’s for you to learn through, nobody else. If they happen to get something out of it as well, good for fucking them. They don’t matter. Keep your eyes on me and keep writing. Keep going. Keep learning. You have already grown so much since the start. Think of how much more you will learn if you keep going.

            Trust me. I am with you the entire way. Now keep writing.

--William

Chapter Text

             It wasn’t until you were in his arms that you felt the need to cry.

             This sudden feeling surprised you. There had been no plan to arrive here seeking comfort from him. You had expected a normal chat and perhaps some fun on the side if time permitted. Yet here you were, your muscles locking up the moment Will placed his hands on you. It was as though his touch had unlocked some hidden switch within you that had previously been stuck in the “on” position all week. Why he had chosen tonight of all nights to wordlessly approach and calmly embrace you rather than try to scare you was unknown, but you found yourself grateful for it. Perhaps when you had walked in, he had sensed something was wrong? Surely not. For even now, as you stood starting to visibly shake, you could feel him shift his weight and tilt his head to assess why your reaction was different. Perhaps it was fate? Or just a coincidence?

             “What’s wrong?” Will asked. His hands were moving between your shoulders, arms, and upper back, as though trying to locate the problem with his fingers. They were bulky, rough, and strong. You found yourself fixating on them, your mind unable to process anything but the desperate need for him to keep holding you.

             When you didn’t respond, Will stopped his physical searching, and seemingly tried to listen for something by turning his head to the side. You were positive he was trying to hear you speak, or make any noise at all for that matter, but unfortunately it was impossible to give him anything to go off of. Your jaws felt frozen. In fact, the more you tried to move them, the tighter they became. Now, your inability to express what you needed was getting frustrating.

             William did not appear to share in your frustration, however. He seemed preoccupied with finding a solution. After a few failed attempts to hold his ear close to you in different positions while trying to listen, he finally wrapped one arm wide across your back and the other cupped against the back of your head, all the while pulling quickly inward and tightly. The sharp squeeze forced your face to press into the crook of his neck and your arms instinctively folded up like a baby bird’s against his chest. Nearly instantaneously, your face began to twist and wrinkle, a sign that something had shifted within. William must have felt the subtle difference in your energy, for he continued to squeeze harder, turning his head at the same time to plant his lips into your temple.

             This was the final push you had needed. The second his lips had connected, a small gasp bubbled up from your throat and a strong jerk let out from your body. Seconds later, you were crying full force into his chest. It was as though his secure embrace and soft kiss had popped whatever constraints were holding you back.

             Neither of you spoke for a while. He simply held you, letting you empty the contents of your emotions. A few times you twitched involuntarily against his arms, a bodily message for you that you must have been trapping these emotions for a while. Days, at the least. But you let it happen without resisting. It was clearly necessary to shake out the stress. How hadn’t you noticed how built up you were?

            Minutes passed before the flood washed out of you enough to finally voice something to him. Your words were quiet, and you had to tilt your head back to be assured that he would hear it, but you were glad to be able to speak to him at all. A few stray jerkings interrupted your speech, but you paid no mind to it.

            “I-I d-didn’t know that was g-going to happen, I’m sorry.”

            William pressed his cheek against your head and rubbed your back. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You needed to release.”

            “Apparently so,” you replied, tucking your head back down and trying to burrow into him more deeply.

            “Come here,” he instructed, beginning to back up and dragging you with him. You followed him to the office wall. Awkwardly, you tried to stay as close as possible to him while you both started to lower downward. This proved too difficult to do, however, so you separated briefly in order to let him sit down first. Once he was settled with his back against the wall, you sat beside him and turned sideways to re-nestle your upper half into him. You felt weak, your body practically lifeless against him. He accepted you into his arms and kissed the top of your head. Then, using one hand, he began to trace his fingers along your forearm. The action was so loving that a small wave of tears began to threaten again at the bridge of your nose, but you could feel they weren’t quite ready to come out.

            “I-I don’t think I realized how stressed I was,” you explained. Your voice was still small. It was all you could muster.

            “Mmhmm,” he murmured, attentive and listening. “You were very tense.”

            You nodded your head, your mind wandering to his gently swaying hand. His fingers danced against your skin. It was like the rhythmic motion of his hand was calming the beat of your heart. You could feel your pulse trying to match it.

            “You know, there are other ways to release tension…” he said, trailing off at the same time as his hand drifted from your arm to your waist. His fingers found your shirt and he gently pulled it up to slide his palm underneath. The cool metallic edges of his hand glided upward against the warmth of your skin, cupping your side and causing a quiver to escape your shoulders. The feeling was so suspiciously simplistic, and yet your face once again began to contort.

            “Would you like me to care for you?” he asked. The question caused your eyes to squeeze shut and your mouth to press into a deep line. You couldn’t think of anything you wanted more desperately in your life.

            “…Yes, please…” you whimpered. You were certain you had never sounded more pathetic in your life.

            Without saying anything, William began to slide his hand further up your side and back. His fingers curled and he started to lightly scratch your back. The feeling was so delightful that your head sank against his shoulder. You melted like puddy into him. Never had you felt so safe or taken care of before this moment. The relief you felt at knowing he was going to follow through with his offer put you in so much ease that your entire body finally let go of everything. This was someone you trusted more than anyone else. Someone you knew you could lower every wall for and let them see you as you truly were. The ultimate vulnerability. You wanted nothing more than to let him do this for you.

            A great sigh let out of you as his fingers scraped down the long of your back. William’s head shifted slightly above you. You recognized his behavior well enough by now that you knew this meant he had smiled curiously.

            “I know that sigh,” he said. There was an edge of pride to his voice. “It only happens twice. Once when I scratch your back. And the other… well, I’ll get that one a little later.”

            His torso curled inward as he finished his sentence. You could practically feel the cheeky grin he was no doubt giving. You couldn’t help but smile at his words, too weak to respond with a laugh.

            “Better… prove it, then…” you forced yourself to say.

            “Oh, I will,” he boasted. Then, he returned his attention to his hand once more. Drifting it downward, he slid his palm sideways against your stomach before changing direction and pressing upward towards your throat. Your back began to arch into him as he did this, your arms moving out of his ways subconsciously and your head starting to naturally lift as a result. William was quick to take advantage of this. Just as his hand slipped to one side of your chest, his head rushed forward to take your lips with his own. At first the kiss was soft, but as soon as his hand squeezed your body, his teeth found your bottom lip at the same time. The simultaneous action caused your body to jerk again. Strangely, the crying feeling from before began to recede, but this did not feel negative. You could tell that the emotions needing to release now were different. A different solution for a different part of the problem. How on earth did William know exactly what to do at any given moment?

            He had barely done anything and yet already his name rushed out of your mouth like a ghost escaping a locked trunk.  

            A light chuckle met your whisper. But you didn’t care. Let him be prideful. You were enjoying this too much to feel embarrassed. Feeling suddenly inspired, you pressed your lips into his mouth, your hands reaching up to snake against the side of the rabbit head. You began to caress it, feeling the edges of the mask and the texture of it.

            “Don’t,” Will interrupted, making you freeze in place. You held still while listening to him. “This pleasure is for you. Lean back and let yourself enjoy it.”

            You did as you were told, removing your hands from his head, and tucking them to your side. Admittedly, his words were relieving. You hadn’t expected to feel this way and yet somehow the realization felt healthy. It felt supportive of him to deny you in this circumstance, and it felt good to not resist.

            His kisses returned in no time. They were varied in form, sometimes closed lips, sometimes opened, sometimes his tongue would dart forward and connect with yours, sometimes his lips would sneak sideways and take in your cheek. And all throughout this gift of sweet attention, his hand would continue to massage your chest, changing between strong and soft grips, pulling, pushing, or pressing. It felt like his touches were kneading something deep within you. Enticing some hidden area of pain that needed to be let out. It was like working out a tense muscle at the same time as being intensely pleasured. It felt both healing and satisfying. As a result, your mind couldn’t quite figure out how to respond.  

            What started out as a confused attempt at deciding whether to cry or laugh, your body finally settled on moaning his name again. Small little whispers repeated nearly every time he switched his hand position. While it wasn’t new to say his name like this in general, it was certainly unusual to say it this often, especially when he hadn’t even moved below the pant line. The objective part of your mind tried to reason through this daze by concluding that this desperation was further proof of just how stressed you had been.

            William, of course, was thoroughly enjoying it. Or at least he appeared to be. Manipulating his hands against you and getting a result out of it seemed to delight him, his lips turning into a wide grin as he continued to press them into your mouth, chin, and jaw. When it was clear that his ego was being boosted just a little too far, you couldn’t help but release a laugh. Though whether the humor was from ultimately from his pride or your own ridiculous begging was unclear. Perhaps it was both.

            Either way, it was then that William shoved his hand downward to try and remove your pants. You were surprised by this, so used to him teasing a bit before going straight in, but you certainly had no complaints. You tried your best to shift your weight a bit to help him remove the clothing. Seconds later and you were bare before him, already tilting your head back again in wait for his lips.

            William wasted no time. His palm cupped up between your legs and you practically hissed at the pleasant sensation. But no sooner had you reacted to his sudden touch that his face was in yours, taking in your mouth with an increased appetite. His fingers began to wave into you, keeping a steady pace before shifting into a pressed circling motion. This change caused you to gasp and you quickly forced your head to the side and held still against his cheek to fully enjoy it. William, meanwhile, took advantage of the position and began to trail kisses down your jaw and throat. A fluttering feeling chased up your stomach and chest. Your pelvis bucked forward as your hands reached out to cling against his back.

            In moments, Will shifted his body to be more above you. Tucking his knee up into your inner thighs, he gently increased the force against his own hand, in turn increasing the pressure felt by you. His name escaped your lips once more. It was the perfect moment for Will to thrust a single digit upward, which he did so, causing you to immediately start to ride into him. The feeling was immediately overwhelming, your nails digging into his back and your breath hitching into his shoulder. Will followed your movements as close as possible, riding the wave of your body with his hand all the while continuing to keep the pressure high with his leg. The sensation climbed even higher, your motions getting faster with time. One of your hands reached up to hold onto the back of his neck. You pulled his head downward, tucking your necks together, sweat starting to bead across your forehead.

            And that’s when you heard it. William’s own moan floating out of his system. It had matched in time with your own. For a moment, you were confused. Why would he be reacting this way if you weren’t pleasing him back? But the thought was quickly replaced with a warm sensation of love. Of course, he was enjoying it. You were sharing a moment together. Surely you had had similar reactions yourself whenever you were gifting him with a private pleasure of his own.

            And it was then, during your realization of the mutual level of intimacy and love between you both, that the feeling climbed to perfection. You burst with a final moan of his name, just as he moaned out a breath of ecstasy himself. Each of you joined together in a tight embrace, connected both physically and emotionally.

            Your body began to twitch again, this time in more scattered quick jolts. The fall of your pleasure was clearly causing more tension to release as it went. Yet another sign that this activity was the right call to do for your aid.

            Suddenly, your lungs inhaled deeply, and a long heavy sigh emptied out of your chest. William, who, this entire time, had been chasing your high with small waves of continued massaging between your legs, ceased his movement and grinned.

            “Ah, there it is,” he said gleefully.

            You grinned back and playfully pushed your hand against his face. Another jolt of tension release bucked out of you before your body settled backward. William removed his hand and knee from your legs before twisting sideways to lay beside you once more. Slowly, you pulled yourself sideways to burrow into him, sighing again as your body seemed to drape into him.

            “I think that really helped me, thank you…” you said into his chest.

            “Mmhm,” he responded with a nod, adjusting his arms to hold you better. He kissed the top of your head before setting his chin there. “Want to talk about it?”

            You thought for a moment.

            “Eventually, yes,” you replied. “But maybe not just yet. I’d like to just lay here and talk with you about whatever else first.”

            “Alright,” he said. One of his hands began to rub your back.

            You allowed yourself to lie still for a bit. Just breathing him in. Enjoying the quiet moment of being in each other’s presence. After a few minutes had passed, you decided to ask him a question.

            “What had you been thinking about before I got here?”

            William’s moving hand paused. Then started back up once he had seemingly processed what you had asked.

            “My children,” he answered quietly.

            “Oh?” you said. “What about them?”

            “Hm,” he murmured before continuing. “I was thinking about how I had once told my wife that we should have stopped after one. But that isn’t true. We should have stopped before then.”

            The air seemed to grow cold in an instant. You hadn’t expected his previous thoughts to be so serious. Not that you regretted causing the subject to be brought up, however.

            “Really?” you said, encouraging him to talk out his thoughts.

            “Yes. But you can’t do that as a successful business owner. Not in those days. You have to look the part. People don’t trust you otherwise. Which is so hypocritical. All the men were having affairs.”

            You blinked.

            “Are you suggesting something?” you asked carefully.

            “I hadn’t meant to,” he replied. “Although I was never above a quick blowjob in the office—as you should know. It wasn’t emotional. Er, not you, them. It was just a physical thing. My affairs were never messy. I never kept a mistress. It was just a thing to do.”

            You thought over his words, nodding slightly as you did so. Then you spoke up again. “I’ve always thought people who did such things were unhappy at home.”

            William’s head bobbed back and forth a bit in thought. “Hm. Sometimes it’s both. Happy and unhappy, I mean. I was… certainly unhappy at home. I felt misunderstood.”

            Your head lifted to stare at his neck and chin.

            “What did you wish was understood?” you asked.

            William paused before answering.

            “You’re going to find this an unpleasant perspective. An old-fashioned perspective. But I was the man of the house. I shouldn’t have to clean up after things. I shouldn’t have to do anything. I didn’t care about certain things. The kids need new shoes? I don’t fucking care! Just go buy them! I don’t care what we eat, just feed me! Families are too demanding. Too dependent on you. They want things from you. I just wanted my brain power to go to what I wanted to do. I didn’t want a family. Some people like that sort of thing. Henry did. But that isn’t what I wanted.”

            The heat from his words could be felt through the grip of his hands. You held still as you listened, taking great care to pay attention to what he was expressing. In the end, he was right to say that you would find his views unpleasant. There was no defending that part of his speech. But it was still possible for you to pity the part of him that was clearly upset over the way his life had felt forced. Regardless of his other views, this was something you felt could be comforted in some small way.

            As such, with no way to truthfully dig around his disrespectful viewpoints in words, you settled with reaching up with one hand to turn his chin away from you. Flattening your palm against the side of the rabbit head, you firmly pressed your lips into his cheek and kept the pressure on for several long seconds. You could feel him slowly smile, which you took as a sign that you had done the right thing to comfort him as best you could.

            When you were finished, you lowered your hand and your face until you were nestled back into his chest and neck. William must have been satisfied with your action, for he re-wrapped his arms around you, this time more tightly, and once again kissed the top of your head. He sighed, which made you smile. You were tempted to make a joke that it was his turn to sigh, but you didn’t feel it was appropriate and thus decided to point something else out instead.

            “You know… William…” you started to say.

            “Hm?”

            “I don’t say this out of any concern or anything… I say it from curiosity… But I find it rather fascinating that you just spent all that time explaining how unhappy you were to do anything that wasn’t devoted entirely to your own individual wants and desires… and yet here you are now having just spent this entire evening taking care of me and comforting me and making sure I felt better after an intensely stressful cry session.”

            William smirked. “I suppose you’re looking for a reason why?” he asked.

            “Oh, no,” you quickly assured. “I already know you won’t give me an answer. You wouldn’t be my William if you did that.”

            “Good. Because I have no intention on telling you any of my motives.”

            “That’s okay,” you said. “Because I already know the answer.”

            William’s grip grew tighter, and his chin lowered to grin maliciously at you. Or so you assumed, anyway. You weren’t looking at him just yet, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was darkly intrigued. “Oh, do you?” he asked. “I suppose you’re going to tell me?”

            “That’s what you’d like me to do,” you answered.

            “Heh. So, you won’t, then?”

            Your head finally lifted to meet his eyes. Yup, a malicious grin, just as you thought. His gaze was full of curiosity, clearly delighted at this sparing match that you were offering. You smirked at him.

            “Ha, no. I’ll tell you,” you said. You leaned in closer to his face, your chin lowering so that you could stare at him somewhat ominously. “It’s because you fell in love.”

            William’s expression stayed frozen. His eyes drilling into you. Neither of you moved for a moment. At first, you wondered if you should second-guess yourself. After all, this felt like a significant attempt at challenging him and there had been many times before where you had stumbled. But once the anxiety of being wrong passed, you realized what was really occurring: a hesitation. But just as you were realizing this, William suddenly blurted:

            “Love is a score in tennis.”

            Startled, you blinked and sank backward. “What?”

            “I said love is a score in tennis.”

            “…What does that mean?” you asked, confused over the expression.

            “I assume you don’t know the rules of tennis, then.”

            “No...?”

            “Look them up later.”

            Baffled, you watched as William seemed to go right back to moving normally. Returning his hands to rubbing your back, he musingly looked away from you to gaze uncaringly at the opposite wall. Confusion started to turn into agitation within you, though there was an undeniable hint of a grin still sneaking its way onto your face.

            “I think I’m right,” you said with growing confidence. “I think you enjoy being with someone you deem as being intelligently equal to yourself.”

            His head snapped to look at you again.

            “Correction,” he said. “The perfect partner is almost as intelligent as yourself.”

            Your mouth opened wide in shock at him, then you playfully smacked his arm.

            “Good thing you’re almost as intelligent as I am, then,” you said, using his own words against him. William growled with a mad grin, rushing forward to tackle you backwards. You squealed in delight, laughing and frantically trying to grip onto his head as he repeatedly kissed your temple and face. You could feel how puffed his cheeks were against your skin from how wide he was smiling. The idea that he could be so happy with you made your heart feel full.

            Once his love-pouncing was done, William slowly leaned backward, pulling you along with him to return to the wall. Your laughter died down slowly, the grin never leaving your face as you looked at him.

            “I love you so much,” you said earnestly, meaning it with the full depth of your heart.

            “And I love you as well,” he replied, his eyes shining as he stared at you.

            For a while, you said nothing. But then…

            “Was I right, then?” you asked. “About the difference between then and now?”

            He smiled. You knew right away from his expression what he was going to say.

            “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he asked.

            Your heart fluttered. God, you hoped he’d never change.

            “Tell me about your week, love,” he said, his tone shifting to a calmer state and his hands lifting to gesture that you should lie back down. You decided not to resist this. He was changing the subject on purpose, which was fine. You wanted to tell him about your stressful days anyway.

            As you lowered your head to rest against him, your thoughts floated back to your theory of why he was being so uncharacteristically unselfish with you. The memory of having asked him directly replayed in your mind. He hadn’t blinked an eye. But there was still no doubt within you that he had hesitated.

You’d almost had him.

            Almost.

Chapter Text

            “Will, may I ask you something?”

            Tonight marked the second time you had both decided to lay on the ground facing away from each other. Head to head, you had scooched yourself just close enough to him that your hair was grazing between his rabbit ears. Both of you seemed relaxed, having decided tonight’s purpose was that of reflection and pause, a welcome reprieve from the hustle and bustle of daily life. Or at least, it was for you. There was still, of course, the mystery of what exactly William did whenever you were gone. But you had learned well enough by now not to ask.

            The cool feeling of the black and white tile below you was familiar. It was a bit too cold, however, and as such your palms were laid flat against your stomach in rest. The room itself was not one you had stepped in before. You never really questioned why you hadn’t been in here previously, although now that you were laying in here staring upwards, you were starting to wonder if you now understood why. Instead of friendly star garlands greeting your gaze above you, there was an ominous glowing eye staring down at you. Foxy in general had never used to bother you before but having just his head on the wall like some mounted hunting trophy did seem creepy in an unexplainable way. After locking eyes with the open-mouthed fox for a long moment, you chose to avoid looking directly at him.

            “What is it?” William asked. His voice sounded deeper tonight. As though had your ear been against his chest, you would have felt the low vibrations through the rabbit shell. You weren’t exactly sure why it sounded that way to you; he was definitely speaking normally. Perhaps this particular room echoed differently? Uncertain. Whatever it was, you decided to ignore it for now.

            “Well,” you started to say, trying to focus your attention back to your original thoughts. It was important what you wanted to talk about with him. “You had brought up your family the last time I was here. I wondered if perhaps you would be willing to explain how exactly you view your children.”

            The rabbit ears shifted slightly, the long one pressing into your hair a bit.

            “How I view them?” he questioned.

            “Yes,” you explained. “Forgive me if this is offensive, but I feel I can be honest… I sort of wondered if you viewed them as… objects… as opposed to, well, people.”

            The long ear shifted back to where it had been.

            “They were an entrapment,” he said plainly.

            You hadn’t expected him to reply so quickly. Nor so bluntly. Either he had already pondered this subject before, or else it was an easier question to answer than you had realized. Regardless, the answer both surprised you and didn’t at the same time.

            “An entrapment?” You asked. The word seemed to leave a bitter taste on your tongue. It wasn’t a pretty description, especially said so matter-of-factly. A twinge of sadness tugged at your heart over what his kids must have experienced if that was his immediate response to the question.

            “Yes,” he confirmed. “My wife wanted them. I did not. By the time the last was born, I got fed up. So, I turned the tables to my advantage. I decided to love them harder. Out of spite.”

            You blinked at the ceiling in thought, unsure of how to take his answer. “Oh,” you said blankly, more so out of wanting to say something at all to acknowledge that you were listening rather than offer any kind of emotional response.

            “But I also loved them in my own way,” he continued. “And I don’t think they liked my way. They still don’t. But it is what it is. I don’t think most people would agree with how I loved my children. But I don’t care what they think.”

            “I see,” you said. What a strange experience to be hearing him say this. On one hand, you were glad he trusted you enough to tell you what seemed like the truth. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny how awful the words were. What kind of a man said that about his own kids? Furthermore, was it truly okay for you to love such a man that believed those things? Then again, you had already crossed the bridge of coming to terms with his killer instincts. What was an unloving father in comparison to a child murderer?

            A lump formed in your throat at your own thoughts. What a terrible thing to have just thought. What on earth were you thinking?

            “My youngest was my favorite,” William suddenly interrupted, shaking you from your self-deprecation. The sentence was so strange to you that you immediately forgot about what you had just been thinking and were overtaken by his blurted addition.

            “What?” you said. “He was? Why?”

            William paused. At first you thought perhaps he hadn’t heard your question, but no sooner had you thought that did he speak up.

            “He could have--” William started to say, but he trailed off before pausing and trying again. “He could have been…”

            Something was wrong. William had never had a hitch in his voice like that before. Your head turned sideways, and you stared at the top of his broken rabbit ear. Raising a single hand, you rested it against the side of his head. But William did not continue speaking. Instead, he seemed to freeze. Realizing that he had suddenly changed his mind about wanting to explain, you tried to give him an out.

            “Would you rather I not ask about your children?” you asked. He took a moment to reply.

            “No, it’s fine,” he said eventually. His voice was back to normal.

            “Thanks for telling me about your views,” you said, purposefully trying to end the topic.

            “Thanks for asking,” he said. Given that he could have denied the opportunity to stop talking if he wanted to, you assumed you had chosen wisely to quickly end the conversation.

            Silence descended upon you both. It did not feel awkward, though. The quiet was welcomed. It gave you time to think about what he had said. Trying to figure out his thoughts as well as how you felt about them seemed worthwhile.

            Between tonight’s and yesterday’s conversations, it was obvious that William found no fault in his own actions. To explain what was most likely abuse as his own unique way of loving his children, as well as defending his horrible actions to his wife by saying she forced him into things was clearly a false narrative. Yet the fact that he had used the word “misunderstood” as a description for himself was proof that he believed this narrative, regardless of its validity. What were you to do with this information? You certainly couldn’t convince him of a different narrative. Was that even your business to do anyway? Come to think of it, did you even want to in the first place? Your eyes scanned across the room from left to right, your mind trying to puzzle out the issue. William wasn’t someone needing to change, you supposed. Not after so much time had passed and the damage was already done. Was he awful? Yes. But a person can’t change if they don’t want to. And you weren’t sure you wanted to “fix him” anyway. Yes, the more you thought about it, the more you were confident that you felt no instinct to “fix him”. As strange as it was, you didn’t ultimately care what he had done in his own life. It’s not that you agreed with what he had done, nor that you forgave it, but quite frankly the cold reality of the situation was what on earth were you supposed to do about it? Not only was there zero chance of convincing him that he was wrong, but this strange setup of one-on-one connection between you was, in all honesty, not about him. Not ultimately, anyway. His story was sealed. Your existence in this small plane of reality with him was for your benefit, not his. Analyzing his behavior and choices was interesting, sure, but you couldn’t deny the fact that this entire setup was for your own healing journey. If he himself decided to change, that was his business. And furthermore, it would be up to him and him alone if you were to be involved in that healing journey, not you.

            What mattered was this was your story. And the truth of that story was you loved him. For better or for worse, you felt drawn to him. And how could you deny the benefit of your actions given how much you had already grown and changed for the better? William may be a dangerous individual, but he was certainly doing good with you. Perhaps you didn’t need to dig into his personal life? Well, no, you cared about him and his feelings, which included his history. But regardless of what messy things you dug up, it did not mean you had the duty of scolding him for his actions. You were his lover. His time away from reality. Both of you came here to find comfort in the other, not to chastise each other. He supported you, and you supported him. That was all there was to it. What more could either of you need?

            No wonder he likes being here, you thought. He can vent freely and so can I. How’s that for a man who felt misunderstood?

            Suddenly, your eyes went wide with shock, and you gasped. In an instant, you were sitting up straighter than a pin and your hands slapped hard against the tile as a result. A scraping noise was heard from behind you, most likely due to William turning to look at you.

            “Well, that was a strange reaction,” William pointed out. His voice was calm, but he was clearly interested.

            “Will…” you said, continuing to stare ahead of you unblinking. “I just realized something. Something huge.”

            “Is it my dick?” he joked. You could hear him snicker behind you.

            You didn’t respond. Instead, you began to turn around slowly, sliding your legs to the side and twisting your form in order to face your lover properly. Now that you could see him, you discovered William’s neck had pulled backward in order for him to crane his head away from the middle of the floor so that he could look at you. He looked lazy, barely wanting to move, however one glance into your serious expression and he quickly shuffled upwards in order to sit properly against the floor and face you. “What is it?” he implored.

            “William, this whole time I have been overthinking about why you would be happy being in a relationship with me. I’ve constantly questioned why you would choose me, what you could possibly see in me, why you would treat my so kindly, what you would get out of it, and so on. I’ve driven myself mad over it. Wanting to justify why you would never abuse me, but I never found the right words to explain it to myself. But I just realized… I’ve been comparing our relationship this whole time with your previous marriage. The one you were unhappy in. Why would I assume you would act the same way with me as in a relationship you didn’t like? If you were truly happy in a relationship, you would naturally act different. You would feel comfortable. You wouldn’t need to lash out. When I look back at what you’ve done with me, you’ve shared your opinions with me, you’ve admitted deeper emotions with me, you’ve done so many things that I interpret as choices you’ve made only because you trust me enough to do so. William… You’re still the same man. But you’re not in the same situation. Am I right to realize that you are more talkative and more supportive with me because you’re happier?”

            Exasperated, you stared at the man before you with a winded expression plastered on your face. The moment felt so incredibly important it was all you could do to hold perfectly still against the tension in the air. This was a profound realization for you. But if he denied it…?

            William’s gaze was emotionless at first. His eyes looked back and forth between yours as though searching for something in them. And then, slowly, his lips began to curl upwards, and a wide smile formed on his mouth. His stare seemed to sparkle at you.

            “Correct,” he said in a marvelous tone.

            Your heart fluttered at his confirmation.

            “H-how did I not see that before?” you asked. “Why on earth would I worry that you weren’t treating me the same way? Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s nothing to lash out against here.”

            His smile turned into a grin. “It took you long enough,” he said with a mischievous hint.

            Your shock melted into a reaction of feigned annoyance. “I feel like you’re constantly saying that to me,” you muttered.

            William scooted closer to you on the floor and reached forward to pull at you. Despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but comply, dragging yourself into his arms and letting him slide you into his open lap.

            “I like that about you, though,” he explained. “I enjoy the fact that you have to always catch up with me. That way I’m always on top and I get to watch you fumble.” He said the last words at the same time as shoving his face into yours and nuzzling into your cheek greedily.

            Half-growling, you pushed his head away from you, hoping not to draw attention to the fact that you were very pleased to stay right where you were in his arms. “I’m trying very hard not to hit you right now given that my realization is a sweet one.”

            He smirked. “Save it for the bedroom,” he quipped.

            “Pah!” you laughed, placing your hands against the sides of his head, and bringing your foreheads together. You stayed there for a moment, eyes closed and drinking in the shared contentedness, before leaning back and looking at him again. “I understand why it took me so long, though,” you said. He watched you patiently as you continued. “Believing you is difficult sometimes. Some days I have trouble not feeling a fool due to how manipulative I know you can be. But it’s strange, because despite that feeling, I do recognize a contradiction within myself. I feel spitefully proud to have chosen what I have even with the fool feeling. I believe that I would not be led astray by my own instincts. I already know you are manipulative. I know your tricks and I gladly allow you to use them. I love you dearly for it despite all the times I fall easily into your traps. I grin every time I fall, and I’d gladly do it again and again because there is no harm in the end. Would a fool knowingly do that?”

            William grinned. A flash of hunger seemed to pass over his expression. A glint appeared in his eye. “You walked into the lion’s den knowing exactly what you’d find. It was bold. Daring. I liked it.”

            “To be fair, many would do that for you. They are head over heels for you.”

            “Ah, but not many want the charlatan,” he proposed. “That’s intriguing. Different.”

            “Hmm,” you murmured, trying to give a proper consideration to his words before shooting him down. “Now you’re just pulling the ‘you’re special’ card.”  

            “And what of it?” he challenged. “Would not any lover say that about their partner? What’s wrong with saying you’re special?”

            Huh. Well, you certainly hadn’t thought of it that way before.

            “I suppose that’s fair,” you concluded. “I would, after all, say that about you.”

            “Now who’s the charlatan?” he joked, squeezing your sides. A burst of laughter fell out of your mouth, causing you to fall against him in joy. His humor was perfect for you. Sharp daggers of play, a dodging of words, sentences dripping with sarcasm. William was perfect in general for you. A man you could play with as well as feel safe around.

            As your laughter died down, your head settled into his shoulder, your body leaning into his chest and your hands landing lightly against his arms. As a nice sigh left your lungs, it was then that you remembered the Foxy mask on the wall. Your neck bent back for you to look up at it, your thoughts beginning to wonder if somehow, Foxy was able to hear and see what you both were doing.

            “You know, there’s one thing you haven’t considered yet,” William said, interrupting your thoughts for the second time that night.

            “What is that?” you asked, your gaze falling from the fox mask and landing on William’s large metal feet below.

            “I wouldn’t waste my time on something I didn’t want.”

            You blinked. And then another large wave of realization poured over you. Your fingers gripped against his arm and once again your eyes grew wide in shock. It was true. William never did anything unless it was for selfish purpose. If he didn’t want something, he’d toss it aside without a second glance. Why would you assume he would be here if he didn’t want it?

            You twisted your body in order to look at his face better. His expression seemed to reflect nothing but patience, waiting for you to catch up to what he had said.

            “I wouldn’t put effort into anything I felt was trivial,” he added.

            Unconsciously, your hands rose to settle flat onto his shoulders. You looked into his eyes seriously. His words had struck a chord in your heart so deeply you weren’t sure how to respond. Though, apparently, you wouldn’t have to, for William decided to break the seriousness of the moment instead.

            “Just keep in mind I only love you for your brains and your body.”

            Sincerity shattered; you were only mad for a second before laughing so hard that you started to tear up. Leave it to William to dangle an emotionally vulnerable moment before ripping it away entirely. What a man. What a charlatan. What a dream come true.

            You spent the rest of the night in his arms, chatting the hours away. Happy. Content. And so very much in love.  

Chapter Text

            He was sitting in the office chair, distracted by some unknown purpose in front of him. His brow was set low, a sign of concentration, as he looked back and forth between the different computer monitors. For a while he did nothing but stare at them, though occasionally he did peck at a few buttons with one pointed digit. You’d never seen him interested in the security system before, though you didn’t question why he would be. The real question was why you hadn’t raced over to him yet. Weren’t you just thinking how impatient you were to get here?

            His white button up was rolled up to the elbow and the top button opened. The usual black tie you were so used to seeing on him in this state was nowhere to be seen but his black pants and silver belt were right where they should be. One brief glance downward revealed business casual black shoes. You allowed yourself one questioning thought of why he wasn’t wearing any accessories to imply a security guard’s uniform, but quickly let the thought drop when suddenly William turned his head to face you.

            Both of you held still for a moment, just taking each other in. Despite it being ages since you’d last seen him, your theory that you’d be racing for him the moment you laid eyes on him was proving incorrect. Instead, you felt a purposeful pause take over. He must have felt it too. There was no other reason for you both to simply stare at one another in silence, especially after such a long break in between seeing each other.

            Letting your fingertips graze against the metal door frame, you finally stepped forward carefully. Your gaze never left his as you closed the gap between you. William’s head didn’t stray from your direction either as his feet pulled back and swiveled the chair beneath him to face you better. In one quiet movement, you kept walking forward until you were forced to spread your legs in order to climb up onto his lap. At the same time, William’s arms reached out to grab onto your upper arms and pull you into him, embracing you immediately as you sat down onto him.

            In seconds, you were both buried deep into each other. All previous feelings regarding a purposeful pause were gone. Your arms had wrapped around him tightly, clutching onto the back of his shirt as though you feared what would happen if you let go. And he, too, clung to you in near desperation, his fingers having gripped onto the fabric of your clothing in a manner that pulled it harshly backward at your collar. They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder, but this was the first time you’d ever experienced what that saying truly meant in person. The idea that it had been almost a month since last seeing him hit you all at once and you found yourself holding back tears over just how grateful you were to be so near him.

            The fabric of your shirt pulled tighter as William adjusted his hold. Your collar stretched away from your neck on one side as William shoved his nose into the exposed area. You could feel his nose press deeply into your skin as his face tucked itself as far as it could go into your neck. The feeling of his mouth against you was almost too much to bear. One of your hands instinctively shot upward to seize the back of his skull, urging him to dig even deeper than he already was into your flesh.

            “I’ve missed you...” came a whisper out of the man before you. The words had been said with such soft distress that your entire form seemed to sink downward in response. You squeezed him as tightly as possible and quickly shoved your face into his ear and planted a strong kiss just behind it.

            “I’ve missed you, too…” you whispered into him while letting your hand at the base of his head start to crawl upward into his hair.

            William breathed inward sharply, seemingly taking you in, before his hands shifted downward to slide down your back. You didn’t stop him as his fingers found the edge of your shirt and immediately pulled it up so that his palms could slip under. Soon, the flats of his hands were sliding up and down your spine, causing his shoulders to relax and a sigh to escape him.

            Meanwhile, your own hands were busy with their own agenda. Your left hand had snaked sideways to gently cup the lower edge of his cheek while your right moved to mirror it. Forcing William’s head backward until you could see his face properly, you wasted no time in softly pressing your lips into his cheekbone. A smile could be felt beneath you as you began to leave a tiny trail of smooches across his cheek. When you discovered his temple, you stayed there longer, keeping your lips pressed in consistent pressure as your fingers began to leave little circles into his head. The massages led your fingers into exploring his hair again, this time lines of exploratory scratching being left in his scalp as you did so. The movements of your hands seemed to please him as his head began to tilt backward and another sigh let out of him. This response delightfully hastened you into leaving even more kisses into his face, this time into his forehead.

            It was here that you were suddenly overtaken by some mysteriously cheeky motivation. In one quick motion, your fingers clamped down onto some fistfuls of his hair before yanking them backward to jerk William’s head to follow suit. He made no sound in response to the motion as your face snapped to take advantage of the sudden exposure of his neck. The light smell of cigarettes filled your nose as you bit into his flesh. Again, you could feel him smile as you continued to bite into him, wanting nothing more than to take every inch of him into your mouth.

            Letting you explore him freely; William held his head still. His own focus seemed to be in his hands, where upon as soon as you had sunk your teeth into his skin, his fingers had curled into digging his nails into your back. The action felt purposeful, as though he were encouraging you to unleash even more ferociousness. You were happy to oblige, ever so pleased at the idea of you finally being the one to leave teeth marks into him rather than the other way around.

            His hands traveled down until they found the edge of your pants. Wiggling under it, William’s hands shoved themselves into the space and danced until they could reach your buttock. He gripped the fleshy rounds and squeezed, causing your spine to curve forward. The slightest of sounds squeaked out of your mouth in response to his touch. No sooner had you given into the feeling, however, did you snap yourself out of it. No, not this time. You had different intentions this night.

            Backing away from William’s shoulder, your hands scurried down from his head, and you leaned back into his palms. You began to undo the buttons of his shirt. William watched you curiously, his gaze like a serpent watching a mouse. You paid no mind to his deadly expression, however. You were far too busy pulling his shirt back to reveal his chest underneath. When your body bent forward to let your mouth connect with his torso, a sudden squeeze at your rear end alerted you to his intentions. He was trying to distract you. A challenge offered to see if you could follow through with your actions against his own. You ignored him on purpose. You knew his games.

            Your tongue found his skin and slowly your kisses turned into little motions of sucking. A push and pull between licking and massaging his chest with your mouth. Unfortunately, due to your sitting position, you couldn’t reach everywhere you wanted to. However, upon starting to shift your legs to change this, you realized there was an unexpected advantage to requiring a change in position. Now that you were standing up, William’s hands were forced to let go of you, forced to cease his game. A grin darted across your face as you bent over to continue your exploit against his stomach.

            Seemingly unfazed, William’s hands traveled up to place against your head, rubbing lines of genuine care into your scalp. Your hands, meanwhile, were gliding into place at his hips, sneakily trying to pull up the edge of his shirt above his beltline.

            When your chin bumped into his belt buckle, you shifted direction. Pulling away from his stomach, your elbows adjusted position, allowing your fingers to start swiftly taking apart his belt.

            At first, William’s hands let go of your hair and floated midair as though he were suddenly overtaken in intrigue by what you were doing. But then his hands moved to help you once you discovered you wouldn’t be able to pull down his pants without aid. Silently, he shuffled in place while both of you helped tug down the fabric until his lower body was exposed, pants and undergarments now crumpled at his ankles.

            You locked eyes with his, a sensation of love filling your heart as your hands settled onto his thighs. Crouching before him, it seemed clear to you what your intentions were, but you weren’t ready to move yet. You wanted to see if William would give any indication of understanding what you were wanting to do before starting. It felt like the right thing to do. William, fascinated and silent, watched you for a moment before his expression transformed into a smug smirk. His body slowly leaned back into the chair and his arms settled by his side, completely slack. You were sure if he had had one, he would have taken the opportunity to light a cigar. He was clearly preparing himself for enjoyment, content to let you do as you pleased.

            And you were glad for it. It’s what you wanted. After so many times of his strictly pleasing you, it was his turn to have the same done to him.

            Leaning forward, your hands slid ahead to grip against his hips and your eyes fell away from his face to focus on the task at hand—or at mouth, as it were. You moved slowly, wanting to make sure that you weren’t going to rush any second of it. You wanted to pour every ounce of love for this man into your next act, wanting to be sure that he would feel appreciated, loved, and pleasured by everything you did. It was his turn to be relaxed. His turn to be satisfied beyond any reasonable doubt. His turn to be serviced by you.

            When you were ready, you opened your mouth and shifted forward. You— [redacted]

            Just for me.

            Just for me.

            Just for me.

            You are mine.

            You are mine.

            You are mine.

            Just for you.

            Just for you.

            Just for you.

            I am yours.

            I am yours.

            I am yours.

            You had satisfied him completely. And he had loved every second of it.

            You loved him.

            And he loved you.

Chapter Text

            Your eyes were closed; a floating stillness surrounding every part of you. Every limb, every piece, every particle of clothing felt gone. As though you were simply consciousness held together in a cloud. At first, this strange awareness was just another thought amongst all the others. But eventually, this sensation of weightlessness was hard to ignore. It became the forefront of your mind, your thoughts concentrating on just how numb your body felt. The more you focused on it, the more you felt like you had no body at all.

            You were draped across his lap. His right arm cradled under your shoulders as your rump fit perfectly snugged into the pocket of his crossed legs. Your feet had flipped over the side of his thigh in a smooth line, angled to reflect how relaxed you felt in his presence. William never failed to make you feel comforted, even on days when you didn’t necessarily need it. Tonight was no exception. You had sunk into him with effortless abandon, your body succumbing to his embrace as soon as he had touched you. And now that it had been a few minutes, your silent reflection with him had turned into a strange (but pleasant) out-of-body experience.

            Your breathing was slow. Your mind had narrowed its attention to the rise and fall of your own chest, its rhythm not unlike what you imagined it would be like whenever you slept. The speed was so eerily drawn out that you half-wondered if you would enter some kind of hibernating state. Could humans even do that? Surely not. They weren’t built for that kind of living. Then again, what about people in comas? Was that a sort of hibernation? What if—

            A soft bop to the ear startled you out of your thoughts. Jolting only slightly, your eyes fluttered open to see what had occurred. Immediately your sight found William’s head. It was bowed, the rabbit masks’ eyelids closed, and it was still. Had you only taken in his face, you might have assumed that he was just as dormant as you had previously felt. But then your eyes took in the subtle movement of his left hand near the bottom of your vision. Darting your gaze to his fingers, which were currently hovered over your chest, you had just enough time to notice the slow shifting of his arm, the limb just in the process of moving away from you. His heavy hand lowered eventually, settling flatly onto your stomach. When your eyes returned to gaze at his face, he was just as quiet and still as before.

            Oh. He had just accidentally touched your ear as he was moving into a different position. Nothing more.

            Closing your eyes, you tried to return to your peaceful prior state. Unfortunately, being accidentally bopped had quickened your breathing to a normal pace and so you knew it would take a while to relax that deeply again. But that was okay. You weren’t completely knocked out of your restful state. And besides, it was nice to sit with William for a while in silence. Ignoring the world and just being with him would automatically slow things down in time.

            Your attention fixated on how you were laying against him. His chest was so wide. Both of your legs fell over his thigh as though it were the trunk of a small tree. He was so big compared to you. Or, well, you supposed it would be more accurate to say the suit was so big. Obviously, William himself within was an average sized man. At least as average as one could compare to a desiccated corpse.

            Metal and flesh. Twisted organs and broken machinery. How much of his physical form would need to be removed before he was no longer Afton? Was a person their flesh or their soul within? If William continued to fall apart until he was nothing but metal, would he still be William?

            A shift in movement. Once again, your thoughts were interrupted, and you startled. You could tell just by feel that William’s hand had lifted from your stomach to move towards your face. You kept your eyes closed and simply focused on what he was doing as you felt a heavy metal hand meet your skin. Soon, his large palm had cupped your face, each cold digit lightly grazing your cheek. The touch left smooth, even drag marks as they fell towards the back of your head. A crawling touch of love drifting across you. Your lips spread into a smile at his gentle petting and your head, which had previously raised from the interruption, laid back down into his arm. His touch was so calm. You could have sworn you knew what it was like to purr like a cat.

            That is, until his fingers passed over your ear again. With the slightest of increased pressure, one digit snuck just a little too close to your ear cavity and caused a brief strange sensation with closing off the tunnel, creating a weird sound. Instinctively, your hand snapped up and quickly brushed his fingers away. Blinking your eyes open, you stared at William’s chest feeling confused over what had happened. Neither of you moved, your hand in the middle of the air lightly set against his own to block him from doing anything further. Was it an accident…? He was looking at you. Your gaze was still locked on his chest, but you had felt his head turn toward you the moment his hand had been swatted. You held stiff for a moment, analyzing the situation. When nothing occurred, you shook your head and laid back down.

            “Sorry,” you said, turning your hand over and pulling his palm back into your cheek. “Just felt weird for a moment.”

            William did not respond, instead using his thumb to immediately pet your skin again. Clearly, he was only momentarily disrupted and was keen on getting back to enjoying the moment. Your head fell back into him, nuzzling deeper into the crook between his torso and arm. What a wonderful spot this would be to take a nap. Perhaps you would do just that.

            Suddenly, William’s finger poked straight into your ear, this time in obvious purposeful intent. You weren’t startled this time. Instead, your lips pursed into an agitated smile and your hand shot up again to grab his wrist, all the while keeping your eyes closed.

            “I know what you’re doing,” you said.

            “I surely don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied. His falsely innocent tone mixed with subtle sarcasm made your annoyed smile widen even further.

            “You know exactly what you’re doing,” you challenged playfully, letting go of his wrist. His moves were always calculated, you knew that. He had the most deliberate of intentions of anyone you’d ever met. There was no way any of his movements were an accident, even the first soft grazing. Admittedly, you hadn’t been aware of his intentions with the first two. You couldn’t help but feel a bit frustrated that you hadn’t caught on right away. It was slightly disappointing not to realize his games early, even if you knew he liked it that way.

            William said nothing. Instead, his hand poked your ear again, this time wiggling his finger a bit. Immediately, your shoulder raised against his hand to block it, and you laughed, your entire body cringing inward at the tickling sensation.

            “Oh, I apologize. Did that tickle?” he asked in a feigned concerned tone of voice. “I guess I shouldn’t touch that part of you again.”

            An annoyed sound blew out of your mouth at him, but a spark of something exciting ignited in your stomach. A game, was it? Anticipation filled your belly. A thrilling chill shivered across your skin. The last time you could recall feeling this kind of heightened fun with him was when you had played hide and seek.

            Refusing to open your eyes, you held still, waiting for the inevitable movement of his hand. You felt that you knew what he was setting up, but it was more fun to let it happen rather than guess. A moment later, the barest of touches passed across your cheek. You tried in vain not to respond to it. Somehow, the fact that you were acutely aware of his intent made you want to laugh even more. You giggled softly and he “tsk’ed” at you.

            “Ah, you see?” he pointed out. “If you’re going to respond like that to my touch, there’s no point in touching you at all. You clearly don’t like it.”

Joy bubbled up your stomach and you let out little bouts of laughter. His fingers brushed past your chin and up he went to your lips. Your laugh was immediate, but no sooner had you let it happen did you realize your mistake.

            “Oh, too bad,” he sighed. “Now I can’t even kiss you.”

            “Noooo!” you whined quietly, half in genuine sadness and the other in jest. You should have thought about that before he had done it.

            “Yessss…” he mocked in an overdramatically pitiful voice. “It’s really a shame,” he continued, this time leaning his head down to drift towards your face. “I had wanted so badly to…” his lips were barely a whisper from yours. “…bite them.”

            You shuddered, both in laughter and delight. How easily he could make you do that…

            Not wanting to give in without at least some form of resistance, you raised your hands to push his head away from you, all the while turning your own head away from him, as though that somehow would hide you from him. But, of course, William merely took advantage of it. Up went his palm to your throat, this time gripping it tightly in a chokehold. You hadn’t expected this, and thus jumped. Your lips pursed against the threatening laughter. You held your breath, your heartbeat starting to race.

            William sighed. “You jumped,” he said, releasing his grip and letting his hand drift down your chest. “It’s truly disappointing… Whatever will we do tonight if I can’t even touch you…”

            You gasped and your head snapped to face him, this time your eyes opening to look at his own. They were staring directly at you, an intensely pinpointed concentration drilling into you as a malicious grin sat upon his face. The asshole was clearly enjoying your torment.

            “That’s not fair!” you protested. “I jumped; I didn’t laugh!”

            “You had a reaction,” he explained with a shrug, the same overdramatic tone of voice being used. “I’m afraid my hands are tied.”

            You smirked at him both in frustration and playfulness, hoping he could see the fire of determination in your eyes. Settling back, you adjusted your hands to your sides, closed your eyes, and you tried to lay as flat as you could in his arms.

            A bulky hand slid slowly down your chest and stomach before ever-so-delicately he lifted your shirt. Fuck.

            You braced yourself for what was sure to be a soft touch. Sure enough, William hovered mere centimeters from your skin. He wasn’t even directly touching you and already the laughter within you was starting to come up.

            Your torso began to squirm as you tried desperately not to make a sound. He wasn’t even doing anything and somehow that made it worse.

            Suddenly, a squeak of a slip up fell out which was quickly followed by a frustrated groan. You knew you had failed without him even saying anything.

            “Too bad…” he said, his hand sneaking further up your shirt to barely graze against your nipple. You hadn’t expected him to move positions so fast. The laughter was immediate due to not having had a chance to catch up from the previous one.

            “Hm, it’s really looking like nothing is going to happen tonight…” he commented in an unfazed manner as his hands slid down to grip the edge of your pants. Joyfully frustrated, you groaned again before letting yourself laugh fully. His game was strongly humorous to you, even if you were aggravated at your own failings. Perhaps if you let yourself laugh freely in between acts, you could hold it in when the timing truly mattered.

            Then again, he had just swiped down your pants just far enough for it to matter.

            “Surely, that’s cheating,” you pointed out, your words offensive but your actions reflecting zero defense.

            “It isn’t,” he said plainly, his hand poisonously close to your inner thigh. Inexplicably, a lump formed in your throat as you realized what would come next. Would you laugh here too? You had already messed up with kisses, there was no way you wanted to mess this up as well. Squeezing your eyes as tightly as possible, you focused all your attention on your body freezing in place. You were sure that as long as you held still and concentrated, you wouldn’t react. In fact, you knew you wouldn’t. Because you were determined not to let it happen this time.

            Trying to channel as much stillness as you had been feeling before William had started his game, you tightened your muscles and focused all of your attention on your lower half. Slowly, sturdy metal fingers brushed softly against the folds of your skin. Just barely enough to come into contact at all. Your thighs squeezed together slightly in response, but not enough to lose, and your toes curled up afterwards. Even your fingers started to lock up as William continued to swipe delicately at your clit.

            The cheating bastard was taking multiple swipes, yet you refused to give in. You strained with all your might, the instinct to throw your head back being the most difficult to resist.

            Finally, William pulled away, keeping his hand close but not directly touching you.

            “That looked rather torturous,” he commented. His voice had returned to normal.

            Your entire body released its hold and you collapsed against him in relief. Thank god he had stopped when he did, you weren’t sure how much longer you were going to make it.

            “It was nothing,” you lied, putting on a front of ease. He guffawed at your response. You both knew you were pretending, but neither of you said anything further about it.

            Cool metal fingers pressed with stronger intent between your legs, and you let out a soft sigh as they did. You didn’t question the change in pressure. His game was coming to an end, and it was fun while it lasted.

            “I suppose this is all I can do tonight,” he said sadly. “I’m not allowed anywhere else.”

            You grinned, your right hand raising to lay against his chest.

            “I guess you better make it good, then,” you joked. You hoped he was smiling at your razzing, but you refused to open your eyes. His hand was doing far too interesting things for you to focus anywhere else. All shivers of humor began to be massaged out of you, trailing out of your limbs like rivers of light. You let yourself enjoy it, giving in to the feeling and leaning into his chest as you did so.

            William leaned down, closing the gap between you. Instinctively, you pulled your head back to let him access you. Without a word, he pressed his lips into yours. You enjoyed it for a moment before whispering to him with a smile in between your small connections.

            “I thought this… was… off limits…”

            Immediately he pulled away.

            “Ah, you’re right. I’ll just stop, then,” he said with a clear tone of sadistic enjoyment.

            “Wait! No!” you blurted, rushing your hands up to grab frantically at his head. Clutching onto the sides of the rabbit mask, you pulled him back to your lips and kissed him gently, meanwhile bucking your hips to show that you were pleased with his hand.

            “I’ll make an exception if you will,” you whispered into him.

            You could feel him smile against your skin, his mind seemingly considering your offer all the while his hand continuing to smooth gentle waves of satisfaction into you.

            “Perhaps I’ll be merciful just this once,” he whispered back eventually.

            As his lips returned to offer compassion in your line of giddy failures, your hands reached up to caress the sides of his head. His entire body seemed to swallow you whole as he leaned further forward, forcing you to shift backward off his legs and onto the floor. He was clearly in a good mood. You could feel it reflected in the way his lips were moving against yours.  He must have really enjoyed playing that game. Which was good because you had, too. What a blessing to have a lover that was willing to play with you. You hoped there would be more games shared between you in the future.

            But, of course, there would be many things to share between you both going forward. The game of love had only just begun.

Chapter Text

            “I know what I would get you for Christmas,” you said.

            William, on the ground lying on his back beside you, turned his head to face you.

            “Do you?” he asked.

            “Yes,” you replied, staring straight up at the ceiling with a confident smile. Your hand, which was currently curled around his, squeezed it slightly. “And I know that you would like it.”

            William did not reply right away. You imagined that perhaps he had smiled.

            “Confident,” he eventually commented. His tone, while generally smooth, held a twist of edge, as though joyfully challenging your attempt at knowing what he would want.

            “I’m not able to give it to you when you’re like this,” you admitted, rubbing a thumb over his jointed metal fingers. “But it’s the thought that counts.”

            “And what is it?” he asked, moving his head so that he could return his gaze upward.

            “Well, it’s two things, really,” you explained. “But the first is a bathrobe. Dark blue, with an embroidered ‘A’ on the upper right side.”

            You paused. William remained silent.

            “The ‘A’ would be a bit fancier without going over the top,” you continued. “And I would choose dark blue because red is too obvious.”

            Silence greeted you. Your eyes scanned the ceiling, letting him picture the bathrobe in his mind.

            “A royal color choice,” he said. “Befitting a king.”

            “Exactly.”

            His hand shifted to let go of yours before turning it so that he could drag his fingers in a toying way along your palm. “And what of the other gift?”

            “A whiskey decanter,” you said excitedly. Your smile grew wider until it became a large grin. You could hardly contain the pride you felt over your own idea. “Smooth glass. Etched with ‘Afton’ along the front in a modern sleek style. Sophisticated. Classy.”

            “I see,” he said simply. His fingers grazed delicately along your skin.

            “I think I did well,” you said cheekily. You beamed up at the ceiling as though stars were in your eyes.

            “I suppose we’ll never know since you can’t give them to me literally,” he taunted.

            “Oh, I don’t need your confirmation,” you told him. “I just know.”

            “No need to tell me what they are in the first place, then, if you already know what my reaction will be,” he pointed out.

            “You’re right,” you shot back, trying hard to suppress a laugh. “I should never have told you.”

            “Then it’s settled,” he said firmly. “I won’t tell you what I would get you.”

            Your head snapped to the side as your eyes bulged. “What?!” you shouted. “No, you have to tell me!”

            William stopped playing with your fingers and collected his hands to his middle in a contended clasping. “Oh, no, you agreed about mine. Surely, the same would be for you.”

            “It is not the same, and you know it,” you said, scrambling your legs back and pushing your hands into the ground so that you could sit up and tuck your feet under your knees. You slapped your palms into the floor and stared hard at the green rabbit before you. “Tell me what you’d get me.”

            He remained still, eyes closed, for a while. You resisted hitting him, knowing that he was enjoying your torture. After a moment, he finally opened his eyes and glanced at you from the side before returning his gaze calmly to the ceiling.

            “A necklace,” he said.

            He went quiet.

            You blinked at him.

            “A necklace of an eye,” he explained further.

            Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

            “An eye?” you asked.

            “Yes,” he confirmed. His head turned to look at you and his expression turned dark. “So that you would know I was always watching.”

            You hesitated, waiting for any sign that he was going to add to the explanation. When he continued to stare with no indication of explaining further, you resisted the temptation to wilt. Was he serious or joking? Disappointment pooled into your stomach, and you tried everything in your power to hide it. If he was telling the truth, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings over the gift.

            “A necklace of an eye,” you repeated, staring back at him without moving. His gaze watched your behavior closely. You refused to give into your hurt feelings, especially when you knew he was watching. “A necklace…” you continued weakly, trying to be kind. “…would sit close to the heart.”

            You hoped he couldn’t tell that your response was more of an attempt at making the idea work better for you rather than being polite.

            “I suppose it does,” he replied simply, turning his head to look back up at the ceiling without emotion.

            “I… guess you’ll never know if you were right since there’s no literal necklace,” you tried to joke. Even you had to admit the quip was delivered half-assed.

            “That’s right,” he said. His eyes closed and his shoulders settled as though he were preparing to nap right there on the floor.

            Your heart sank. You tried to hold back the aching feeling now filling your chest.

            “Well,” you began, leaning back onto your heels and removing your hands from the ground. “I’m sorry this night had to be shorter than the others. Being it’s Christmas and all, I have matters to attend to. But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

            “Alright,” he said, seemingly only half-listening.

            You swallowed an uncomfortable shot of pain at his dismissal. This wasn’t how you expected the conversation to go. If you were able to stay longer, you might have discussed it with him, but it was too late now to start anything that could potentially go more than five minutes.

            Collecting yourself quietly, you stood up from the floor and bowed your head as you dusted off your legs.

            “See you tomorrow,” you forced yourself to say, all the while holding back every ounce of your body naturally wanting to cry.

            “Bye,” he replied.

            Hurt and despondent, you turned to leave, still refusing to show your pain to him. You took a few steps toward the door before you heard William speak up behind you.

            “And don’t forget,” he said. You took a moment to force down another attempt at tearing up before turning back to look at him.

            Still lying on the floor, William’s head was now facing you. One of his arms was bent with his hand near his face. One finger was pointing at his own eye.

            You watched him with a neutral gaze.

            Slowly, William’s finger tapped the edge of the rabbit mask’s eye socket. Then his hand moved down to point at his chest, where his heart would be. Then he moved his hand up to point at you.

            His hand stayed frozen in the air, pointing directly at your heart. Your eyes locked onto the single pointed digit.

            Suddenly, the gears in your head clicked into place and your heart swelled, your chest lifting like an inflating balloon. A smile returned to your face and your mood changed immediately from dispirited to joyful.

            An eye necklace.

            A symbol to hang near the heart.

            Now your eyes were tearing up for a completely different reason.

            “Merry Christmas, William,” you said, your cheeks round from how wide you were smiling.

            “Merry Christmas,” he replied, his hand still pointing right at you.

Chapter Text

            Your body is a treasure that I like to own. I love every curve. Every bend. Every place. I like feeling you, knowing you are mine and no one else’s. You are sexy as hell, and the smell of you intoxicates me.

            What I love more than your attractive body, however, is your mind. That’s what I really love. You intrigue me. The way you think. It’s amusing. I like seeing the way you process things. The way you try to catch up to me. The way you fail to match my speed every time. You are my favorite plaything.

            I enjoy spending time with you. I both love and hate the way you distract me. You are a thorn in my side, a rock in my shoe, yet I find myself content to see you walk beside me as I work toward my own ambitions.

            You know your place and I appreciate that. You do not bother me when I am busy, and you do not question my work or business. I am a private man, and you respect that.

            You’re mine and I like that. You’re mine and I wish to keep you. You’re mine and I see a long-term future ahead of us, full of promise.

            I love you, in my own special way. I cannot always speak it. You should just know it. You’re smart enough for that. So just trust.

            You are now a part of my vision. For better or for worse, you are trapped in my design as I see fit. I believe you will like it.

            You’ve enraptured me. I have chosen to let you.

            You will be the death of me.

            And I will welcome it.

            ...or, perhaps, I'm just lying. :)

Chapter Text

            William sat upon the office floor, his back against the wall and his legs outstretched before him. In his arms, there you laid, comfortable and snug despite the hard outer shell of the Bonnie suit below. Stray wires gently scratched along your skin as your breathing caused your body to move ever so slightly. This didn’t bother you. Scratchy wires and rough fabric were par for the course at this point. There was a certain reality to being in love with a man that was partly (well, mostly) robotic parts.

            What a year it had been. Yes, an entire year. More than that, in fact. 25 nights written, but many others shared privately in between. It was hard to believe how much you had gone through in such a short amount of time. And all of it with him by your side.

            You weren’t the same person anymore. Looking back at the beginning of it all, you felt almost embarrassed by what you used to be. It felt so foreign, so strange. How did William let you get that close to him at that stage? How did he put up with someone so weak?

            Then again, look at you now. How far you’d come. You weren’t so prone to tears anymore. Nor as shy. You had grown to accept what made you happy and to not be afraid of it. To let fantasy reign and to share equally in a relationship. Through a self-serving run-down cunning rabbit, you had learned to be wholly you. And now you were strong.

            Staying quiet, you let the satisfaction of being with your favorite person overtake you. William Afton. The man who had changed your life for good. What irony. How could anyone claim to be helped so significantly by a man so usually cruel? And yet it was the truth. Your truth. One you intended to hold dearly for the rest of your time.

            A slow dragging of a bulky hand drew your attention away from your thoughts. The olive-green hand was shifting upwards from your arm to drift toward your throat. Instinctively, you leaned your head back and closed your eyes, knowing he was going to want to play with your neck. Sure enough, his fingers began to graze against your skin. It was a peaceful moment of silence. The simple pleasure of enjoying each other’s company.

            “Imagine,” William suddenly said in a quiet voice. His fingers swirled in a light circle as you listened. “If it had been a while since we had last seen each other, and this was the first night we were spending together after all that time.”

            Your eyelids lifted gently, and you gazed forward, taking in what he had said. In actuality, it had been a while since you’d last seen him. What he was asking you to do was easy.

            “Now imagine,” he continued. “If, perhaps, we were laying on a comfortable couch in our own living room. The fireplace would be on. We would be cozy and warm.”

            The real sight of the cold grey office wall on the other side of the room, dingy and bare, stared at you. Your eyes trailed sideways to find the outdated computer system on the desk to your left. Then, your gaze traveled around the entirety of the dull room in front of you. Dust, dirt, grime, and an overall dismal gloom greeted your vision. The reality of where you were could not have been further from the image William was trying to paint in your mind. This did not bother you, however. The idea of being on a couch with him in front of a fireplace felt nice to imagine.

            “Perhaps we had just finished a nice snack,” he explained, his fingertips just barely touching your neck as they twirled. “And now we are just existing in each other’s company. Quiet, calm, and just taking each other in.”

            Smiling, you couldn’t help but lower your chin away from his hand and turn sideways, tucking yourself as far as you could go into his chest. The image was too sweet not to cuddle into him. William’s arms re-adjusted their position and encouraged the embrace by pulling you tightly into him. Soon, you were held fast by his strong limbs and his face had nestled closer to the top of your head, the teeth of the rabbit mask pressing against your hair. You closed your eyes, wanting to ignore the office surroundings so that you could more easily imagine what he was saying.

            All was still. Just the sound of his rasped breathing and your own heartbeat. The thought of the office space faded away, replaced by the comfort of his imaginings, somewhere far away and yet so equally near. There was no fireplace. There was no couch. Yet the feeling was right there in your chest, as close as could be. The feeling of a warm glow. The more you tried to tune into it, the more you could feel the heat of it connecting outward. Out, toward the man before you. You were sure he felt it, too. It was unnecessary to ask. The mutual feeling of “home” is unmistakable. It happens when two souls are quiet, calm, and close together, and usually only after having shared in a long journey together. A journey of immeasurable positive growth and happiness.

            Could anything possibly be better than this? What a joy to be held so lovingly, your favorite gesture occurring at the same time with his unmoving mouth placed silently against your head. You had never felt so safe, secure, and cherished in your entire life.

            “Would you like to make a commitment?” William suddenly asked.

            You blinked. Shifting your head, you raised your face to stare upward at the rabbit mask’s chin. “A commitment?” you queried.

            “Yes. A long-term one.”

            Puzzled, you paused a moment. When he said nothing, you prompted him again.

            “What do you mean?” you asked.

            “Do you want to be my partner?” he asked. “Or am I still your boyfriend?”

            The gears turned in your head. The way he phrased that… That sounded an awful lot like… No, surely not. Couldn’t be. You focused on the question he specifically asked. Boyfriend. The word felt funny to say in your head.

            “…You know…” you began, furrowing your brow. “It’s funny… I never thought about it before this… but ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t feel right anymore. ‘Partner’ feels more appropriate for what I want to call you. It’s deeper. ‘Boyfriend’ feels silly in comparison.”

            William was quick to question again as soon as you were finished speaking. “So… do you want to make a commitment?”

            You refused to reply hastily. The way he was phrasing the question felt odd. What exactly did he mean?

            “Let me clarify,” you stated. “By ‘partner’, do you mean the equivalent to ‘husband’?”

            “That’s up to you,” he said.

            Your eyes squinted at his words. Why was it up to you? That didn’t feel right. If he was asking what you thought he was asking, your clarification would not be up to just you. But you did not wish to point this out directly. You felt the need to be delicate with how you responded. Instead, you decided to answer him with your truthful opinion on the matter, which was important anyway.

            “Well… “ you said carefully. “Admittedly, ‘husband’ is not a term that feels right for me to call you. I don’t know why. Maybe because the traditional sense of ‘marriage’ does not feel right for us. ‘Partner’ feels right. But with the added explanation that it feels like the same depth to me. If I wanted to call you ‘partner’, it would hold the same weight as ‘husband’.”

            “So, am I your partner?”

            Your heart skipped a beat. You were right all along. He really was asking what you thought he was asking. But wait, did he...?

            “Do you want that?” you asked.

            “I’m following your lead,” he replied.

            Great. Now you were both dodging the question. How appropriate given the natural flow of your dancing relationship. He was right, all that time ago, to call you his sparring partner. Neither of you wanted to give in first.

            “William, do you feel the same way for me?” you asked, deciding to use his name on purpose to emphasize how serious you were.

            “Meaning do I want to call you partner?” he clarified.

            “Yes. Do you feel that I am your partner for life? Do you want me to be your spouse?”

            There was a long pause.

            “…Yes.”

            Stunned, it only took a second for you to come to your senses. A mad rush of emotions flooded your system, and you scrambled up from your tucked in position, pushing your hands downward into his chest so that you could face him head on.

            William’s eyes stared into yours unblinking. There was no hesitation, no regret, no disappointment in them. Just pure serious expression. Your heart swelled.

            Rushing forward in an unexplainable overwhelm of feeling, you thrusted your hands upward to cup the sides of the rabbit head and you forced your lips into the animatronics’ teeth without thinking. William knew immediately what you were trying to do and quickly raised his own hands to pull back the lower jaw. Both of you hurried forward to meet the other and soon you were locked in a hard-pressed kiss, fiercely holding onto each other, symbolically sealing the promise.

            After the intensity had passed, you pulled back from his mouth and whispered, “I also want to be your partner for life.” The kiss had been an obvious acceptance already, but you felt the need to verbally confirm anyway.

            William grinned maliciously. “Be careful what you wish for,” he said. “I don’t intend on dying.”

            “Then I’d say it’s you who should be wary, then,” you quipped. William chuckled, squeezing your hips, and shifting his legs a bit so that you could more properly sit in his lap. Your hands lowered from his head to rest against his shoulders.

            “Perhaps it’s all part of my plan,” he suggested.

            “Pah!” you snorted.

            “I’ve ensnared you,” he asserted, leaning forward to take your lips back into his. You smiled against his mouth, your arms moving to wrap around his neck. “Trapped you,” he added in between kisses. “You are captured forever.”

            “I am content with that,” you whispered into him. “I love you.”

            “I love you, too,” he whispered back, sweetly planting kisses in a repeat.

            You embraced him tightly, and he returned the gesture. The glowing feeling from before returned to your chest. What a beautiful sensation. And what a beautiful evening. You had no idea that something as simple as imagining a nice scenario together could lead to a perfect moment of making promises to each other. Did you ever imagine that he would ask that? Did you ever imagine that you would appreciate the simplicity of how it was done? You had no idea. But one thing you did know, one thing that was not your imagination: Be it in a dirty old office or a cozy warm living room, anywhere was home as long as you were with him.

Chapter Text

[iMessage – Monday 5:26pm]

--Did you see that kid and mom at the supermarket?

   The one who rudely told the mom to pick up his toy and

   carry it for him after he dropped it? And the parent

   just went with it?

                                    --That was a terrible parent.

--I know! I was shocked!

                                    --Actually, it’s not even parenting.

--What would you call it?

                                    --A slave. That child has a slave.

--I see what you mean, and I agree.

    If I ever was a parent, I don’t know how strict I would be,

    but not even I would put up with that kind of behavior.

                                    --What would you be like as a parent?

--I have no idea.

                                    --You never wanted kids?

--Ugh, no. Never.

--There’s no way I would ever.

                                    --What about older kids?

--Probably not.

            [iMessage – Monday 5:45pm]

--Why older kids specifically?

            [iMessage – Monday 6:01pm]

--You okay?

            [iMessage – Monday 6:20pm]

--Did I upset you?

            [iMessage – Monday 10:06pm]

                                    --It’s fine.

--Did I upset you?

                                    --Yes. But don’t worry about it.

--We should talk about it.

                                    --I just had to be alone for a bit to process.
                                      I’m fine now so just drop it.

--Were you asking because of your kids?

                                    --I said drop it.

--William, if I hurt you, I want to talk about it.

                                    --If you really want to, we can talk later

                                      when you’re home.

                                    --But it’s fine for now so don’t worry. I’m over it.

           ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            [iMessage – Thursday 1:45pm]

--Fuck. William, I’m already panicking.

                                    --It’s just a plane ride.

--I don’t like them.

                                    --That much is clear.

--We’re off the ground. I can’t do this.

                                    --Just relax.

--My anxiety is shot. I’m trying to play music.

    Not sure it’s working. I hope my seat

    neighbors don’t think I’m weird.

--Fuck, we dropped a few times. I hate this,

    I hate this.

                                    --Not sure why you’re texting me about it.

--Distraction. Texting helps.

--God, I feel like I’m going to die every

    time turbulence hits.

                                    --Are you going to do this every time?

--I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.

    I’m just doing what feels right in the moment.

--Am I bothering you?

                                    --It’s rather annoying, yes.

--Oh. Sorry.

[iMessage – Thursday 4:15pm]

                                    --Did you land?

[iMessage – Thursday 4:33pm]

                                    --Text me when you have your bag.

[iMessage – Thursday 4:43pm]

--What time is the dinner reservation

                                    --6:20.

                                    --Are you numb, in a hurry, or just feeling done?

--I’m crying in the airport.

                                    --Why?

--William, I don’t like airplanes.

                                    --Pretty over-dramatic, don’t you think?

                                      Maybe you should get exposure therapy so you

                                      can get over this fear already.

[iMessage – Thursday 4:55pm]

--Have bag

                                    --What number are you at?

--32

                                    --Be there soon.

Chapter Text

           [iMessage – Thursday 10:33pm]

                                    -- Let’s talk about the plane.

--Why?

                                    --You sounded disappointed by my reaction.

--Oh. It’s fine.

--Don’t worry about it.

                                    --If I hurt you, I want to talk about it.

--It’s not that big of a deal.

   You were right that I shouldn’t

   have messaged you about it.

                                    --Do you want to message me about it

                                       going forward?

--Why do you want to talk about

   this? I said it’s fine.

                                    --Are you just avoiding conflict?

--…

                                    --Do you want me to change how I react

                                       when you’re in that kind of crisis?

--I don’t expect you to change.

   You’re William Afton. You would react

   impatient with that kind of behavior

   whether it was your own children, a

   friend, or a spouse. I know you get

   annoyed with anxiety stuff. I knew that

   when I agreed to being committed to

   you. I should have known not to expect

   you to jump up and help me through

   an emotional emergency.

                                    --Why assume that I would be unwilling to

                                       change my behavior if I’m happy in the

                                       relationship? If I didn’t care about you, sure,

                                       there would be no need to change.

                                       But I do care, so I must adjust to your

                                       needs. Were you hurt that I didn’t help?

--…I was embarrassed that I had to

   rely on a friend for emotional

   support rather than my own

   spouse.

                                    --I see. I’m sorry. Next time, I will make an

                                       exception for support of emotional

                                       emergencies.

--Maybe you can see it as guarding

   your property?

                                    --I don’t need a softener.

--Okay. Thank you.

                                    --You’re welcome.

              ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            [iMessage - Thursday 11:09pm]

--So… Can we talk about Monday?

                                    --Why?

--You said you were hurt.

                                    --Didn’t I say don’t worry about it?

--You also said it would be fine

   to talk about it if I wanted to.

                                    --You’re right, I did.

--Were you asking about

   my parenting preferences

   because of your kids?

                                    --Yes.

--Can you clarify that?

                                    --If you’re my spouse, you’re

                                       part of my world. To be part of my world,

                                       you would naturally know my family.

--I see. You were trying to get an

   idea on if I would be willing to

   meet them?

                                    --Yes.

                                   --Households and family are tied

                                       up in my pride. By you rejecting that

                                       idea, it felt like you rejecting me.

--To be fair, I didn’t know that’s

   what you were asking.

                                    --To be double fair in your favor, if I was any kind of

                                       a good father, I would have involved the kids

                                       before I committed to anyone. I was unclear to you,

                                       had an ego response, and then had to get over it.

--I suppose that is double fair. But

   now that I know that’s how you

   feel, we should talk about it.

                                    --You do not want to be a parent. That is a boundary

                                       you should not push.

--I didn’t intend to push it.

--What do you need?

                                    --If ever there was a situation where the

                                       opportunity arose, would you be open

                                       to meeting them?

--Yes.

                                    ---If they ever visited and, for example, stayed

                                        for a few days, would that bother you?

                                        This would be with the understanding that

                                        you would not be their parent. They would

                                        not be your responsibility.

--That would be fine.

                                     --Then I feel satisfied with that conclusion. You?

--I am also satisfied.

                                    ---No need to discuss further, then.

--Okay. I am glad we talked about it.

   Thanks for being open with me.

                                    --Are you hungry?

--Starving.

                                    --Let’s go eat something.

--Yes! Meet you in 5. 

Chapter Text

            You stood outside the bedroom door, fixated by the sudden interest of its doorknob. It was dark brown, almost black except for the edges. The circular hardware was plain, yet the lines etched into it caused your eyes to drift across them in a pleasant manner. The peculiarity of this object never having grabbed your attention before struck you funny. As though the strangeness of what you were doing caused you to question your own mind. Yet your transfixed gaze continued. The object was so round, so metallic. Had you ever stopped to consider how beautiful the simplicity of its mechanics inside were? The sheen on the top of it made you wonder what would happen if you decided to polish it, the spontaneity of the very idea giving you a slight thrill. But no sooner had your spike of elation run its course, did you frown, and the reality of the current situation flooded back into your core.

            Right. Michael.

            It had been two hours since the boy had left the house. Two hours since you had been caught in the crossfire that was a violent reaction between father and son. You could still feel the fright in Michael’s body when you had held him. The shudder in his form when he had sobbed into you, begging for you to shield him from his dad. You had tried to help the best you could, and you assumed based on Michael having calmed at one point, that your instinct just to hold onto him was correct, but now that he was gone and the intensity was over, you weren’t sure how well you had actually done.

             Michael, however, was not the problem right now.  The real issue at hand was William. He had walked away the moment Michael was gone and had shut himself inside the bedroom to be alone. Considering his lack of emotion during his son’s crying, you assumed that William would be irritable, hence your choice of purposefully leaving him be for a while to settle. Although, in all fairness, as much as you wished to say that your choice had been purely based on William’s need for solitude, it would be more accurate to say that it was you who needed the time. Processing what had just happened was difficult, especially when you added in the fact that this had been your first time ever meeting the boy. Many questions filled your mind, yet it was not time to answer them. First things first, you needed to talk to William. You needed to fix the elephant in the room.

            Putting a hand on the no-longer-interesting doorknob and turning it, you entered the bedroom cautiously. You spotted William right away, standing near the window and looking outside. He had a cigarette in one hand, the stick appearing as though he hadn’t done much with it given the build-up of ash at its end. Perhaps the man had been too lost in thought to really use it.

    You remained quiet as you crossed the room to sit on the bed. If William had heard you come in, he made no gesture to indicate it. This didn’t bother you. The silence was necessary to set the stage for what you were going to start. You settled into the bedspread, clasped your hands together in your lap, and then prepared yourself for a hard conversation.

    “We need to talk,” you eventually said in a neutral tone of voice. Your body faced the wall opposite the bed, but your head was turned to look at him. The answer you received was delivered quicker than you expected.

    “No, we don’t.”

    “Yes, we do,” you retorted immediately and firmly. You stared hard at the back of William’s head, mentally urging him to turn around. He ignored you, instead taking a long pause before seemingly remembering his own cigarette. He tapped the lengthened ash onto the floor and lifted the butt to his lips. He took a long drag off the end before turning his body to press the finished stick into an ash tray on the side table nearest to him.

            You waited patiently for him as he slowly settled himself onto the bed. You couldn’t help but notice that he still hadn’t looked at you. His head and body both faced the window and the air about him filled with defense.

            “Fine,” he snapped. As predicted, he was indeed irritable, although there was something about his tone that made you wonder if perhaps there was something more.

            “How are you feeling?” you asked. William’s head turned sharply to look at you. His gaze was full of surprise. Had he not expected you to ask that? You looked between both of his eyes and held steady, waiting. William glanced away to the floor for a moment, then seemingly reconsidered. He turned his entire form to face you directly, shifting his legs up more onto the bed for better balance.

            “…Scared,” he admitted bluntly. His tone was disturbingly matter of fact.

            The word hit you like a ton of bricks. You had expected anger or maybe even calm, but not this. Confusion and bewilderment swept up your body immediately and it took everything within you not to physically react in alarm. The word was a strange choice, especially mixed with how blunt he had stated it. It was as though he didn’t even care about it. Scared? Since when had William ever been scared? Did he really mean that? Did he even know what it was to feel that? The concept was so foreign that he might as well have grown a second head right there in front of you.

            “Scared?” you repeated, blinking fast. “Of what?”

            William was holding so still he looked as though he were made of stone. His expression gave nothing away, but his hands were clenched, and his body looked tense. “I don’t know what you think of me now after that.”

            …Oh.            

            A wave of clarity soothed over you, albeit in a puzzling manner. This was… unexpected. He spoke as though he were telling the truth, but the words felt too self-conscious for how you were used to hearing him that it was hard to believe. Even with having established a solid relationship with him, you would never have guessed that he might someday feel worried for how you truly saw him. He was always so proud. This was new.

            Focused now on the desire to ease his fear, you shoved the shocked feeling from his words out of your mind.

            “You think I would judge you for what I already know?” you asked.

            “Seeing it happen in front of you is different from hearing about it.”

            You considered his point, then shook your head. “I love you all the same,” you said.

            His eyes drilled into you with strong suspicion.

            “I find that confusing,” he said, his tone edging on accusation.

            “Well,” you began. A flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips, but you forced it away. “This whole thing is confusing. But you’re my partner. Why would I not love you after this?”

            William’s expression shifted into a queer stare, and he cocked his head slightly.

            “I used to beat my child and led him to cry and now here he is, suffering from what I did. I left him like that. How can you stand that?”

            Your eyes floated toward the ceiling in thought. It was a perfectly understandable question. One you knew how to answer. “Well… To be honest, I can’t stand that. I want to help him. But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you or angry with you. Again, I already knew you did this to your children. It was expected.”

            Returning your gaze to your partner before you, a moment of silence began. You could see the gears turning in William’s head as he pondered your response. There was no way to tell precisely what he was thinking, but given that his hands had unclenched, and his head was no longer cocked, your assumption was that something had shifted within him. A new direction, perhaps. He almost looked curious.

            “You have a big heart,” he said eventually. The sentence held a softness that, in another time, you might have been flattered by. But you were not about to let the seriousness of the situation slip by. You were swift to reply with an assertive tone.

            “You don’t have my sympathy, though,” you explained. William watched you carefully as you continued. “I love you, but I won’t make excuses for your actions. You have to fix this, if you want to fix it at all. If you don’t, that’s your choice. It’s not for me to make. The only thing I can do is take care of myself and make my own choices. And right now, I want to keep living with you as my partner, as well as treat that boy with respect and support.”

            William scowled, a flash of anger crossing his face like a storm of fire. You remained steady, holding your gaze with the heat in an unyielding manner.

            “As you wish,” William spat.

            “I do wish,” you calmly replied.

            Flippantly, William tossed a hand towards the bedroom door. “Go take care of him, then,” he sarcastically bit. “Go be supportive.”

            “I will and I did,” you said, the memory of Michael’s terrified grip on your arms coming back into focus in your mind. “How do you feel about that?”

            William grit his teeth at you, sneering.

            “Cross,” he said. “Conflicted. I care about you, not him.”

            “Why not?” you asked.

            “You know why not.”

            Memories of previous conversations drifted through your mind. The countless times that William had discussed his overall disappointment. Michael had never lived up to his father’s harsh expectations.

            “It’s true,” you said. “I do know why. How do you want to proceed?”

            The fire behind William’s eyes faded. In seconds, the cloud of rage from before was gone. He seemed, once again, to find your question unexpected. “I don’t know,” he mused. “I… just wanted you to meet him.”

            You nodded. “And now I’ve met him. And I’m glad to know him. How do you feel now?”

            For once, William looked unsure. His eyebrows curled in, and he looked down at the bed as though confused by the question. “Sore,” he said eventually. Then, he looked back up at you with a grumpy expression. “And annoyed.”

            “Anything I can do to help?”

            He shrugged. “No. You’ve done enough. I’m glad for what you did. You did more than I expected.”

            It was your turn to tilt your head to the side. “Oh? What did you expect?”

            “I sort of just expected you to stare at him.”

            A short laugh came out of you. “I suppose I would have had he not had a crisis.”

            William smirked. “I guess this means you’re good in a crisis.”

            “I guess so!” you agreed.

            Your hands pulled away from each other and you set them flatly on the bed with no exact purpose. The worst of the conversation had obviously ended if a joke had been cracked. Distractedly, you began to drag a finger against a line of decorative thread in the comforter. William watched you silently. You found yourself unable to look at him as a new thought came to mind.

            “Will it bother you if I check on him from time to time?”

            “No,” William replied quietly.

            You nodded, keeping your gaze on the bedspread. The previous encounter with the doorknob came to mind as your fingers started to push into the fabric. You let your hand drag against it in a straight line until your fingertips touched against William’s thigh.

            “You sure I can’t do anything to help you?” you asked.

            William sighed and stood up. “No, love. Stop.” He crossed the room over to the dresser and began to pull at his tie. You pulled your hand back to yourself and scooched yourself over the bed’s edge to stand up yourself. Changing into nightclothes felt like a good idea.

            “It’s been an emotional night,” you said, walking over to your own set of drawers. “Do you want to just go to sleep, or would you like me to rub your shoulders or anything?”

            William was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt when he replied. His tone seemed dejected and careful.

            “I think I should just sleep.”

            You glanced at him just in time to catch his face read saddened before he turned away to finish changing. Your heart panged slightly, but you didn’t think it appropriate to try and change his mind.

            Choosing to focus entirely on getting ready for bed, you finished your nightly routine normally before slipping under the bed covers. William was still in the bathroom, leaving you to wait in silence for him. Your thoughts raced over the events of the day as your eyes scanned the walls of the room. You felt concerned for Michael, and uncertain about how William was taking things. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to act around his son, if you had done the right thing by him earlier that day, or even if the boy liked you. There was no time to figure any of that out in the moment. And as for William, you were sure he was not telling the truth about how he really felt. The fact that he wouldn’t let you comfort him was weighing on you. It felt as though William was ignoring his inner emotions, focusing only on anger. You didn’t know what to do.

            The sound of the bathroom door opening interrupted your thoughts and you waited patiently for William to come into bed. When instead you heard the bedroom door creaking, you sat up hurriedly and caught your partner just in the actions of leaving.

            “Hey!” you called at him. “Where are you going?”

            William did not reply, he simply stared at you, his hand ready on the doorknob.

            “You can’t sleep in the other room,” you stated. “I can’t not have you with me tonight after that weird experience.”

            A sigh was heard, but the bedroom door was shut obediently. Instead of walking straight over to his side of the bed, however, William floated over to your side, and he stood above you, his head lolled down to give you an expression of annoyance. You knew what he was saying without having to hear it. He was calling your bluff.

            “…I don’t want you alone tonight,” you admitted. Sheepishly, you placed your hand on the place of the bed where he should have been beside you. A single eyebrow from William perked up.

            “I can take care of myself,” he said.

            “Yeah, well, I think you’re hiding your true emotions,” you challenged. “I think you’re feeling some kind of way and wanting to ignore it. I won’t let you.”

            William stared hard at you. You imagined he was trying to decide whether to scoff or to slap you, but neither reaction came. Instead, he chose to silently crawl over you to get into his side of the bed. Without a word he got under the covers and then turned away from you, settling into wanting to sleep on his side.

            Pleased to see him agreeing to your wants, you shuffled closer to him. Tucking your hands into your chest, you buried your head into his back and laid there with a smile on your face. He was warm and solid, a constant you were glad to have beside you.

            “He’s a brat, you know,” William suddenly piped up.

            Your head raised from its nuzzled position. “Oh?”

            “Just like you.”

            You laughed, kissed his back once, then settled into getting ready to sleep. You tried to focus on his breathing, wondering how long you should realistically hold this position before it would naturally get too hot to do so. You didn’t want him to be uncomfortable when it was clear he needed to rest.

            When the air grew quieter, and you were sure that he had slipped into a deeper state of calm, you pulled away from him to roll onto your back. You stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. Were you proud of your actions today? Had you helped the best that you could with both Michael and William? The more you thought about everything you had done, the more you frowned. The realization of having to step up and be there for both of them in one day was starting to creep into you. You were tired. No, an understatement. You were exhausted. In fact, it felt like perhaps tomorrow it would be wise to cancel any of your appointments and be sure to make time for just yourself. You were glad to have been able to help them, but now you needed self-care. You could only feel gratitude for the strength needed for today if you were sure to rest tomorr--

            A shift in the blankets disturbed your thoughts. You held still until a hand slid over to clutch your arm. You felt a heaviness sink into the corner of your pillow and suddenly William’s mouth was near your face. A kiss was planted on your cheek before immediately being followed by a bite on the ear. A great sadness fell over you, then. The actions were sweet, but you knew the reasonings for them. He needed you. Rest would have to come later. Thankfully, you were content with obliging. You may be tired, but not enough to not comfort him. It’s what partners did for each other.

            Without a word, you pressed your face into his mouth and used your hand to pull his own across you. His nose pushed into your neck and his teeth sank into the flesh. You arched your head backward and clasped your fingers into his own. You both went through the motions automatically, each of you understanding the requirements of the moment. This was not a time for passion. This was healing. A bittersweet reminder that each was still there for the other.

            When the night was over, and sleep had long since passed between you, you awoke in the morning to the sound of a text message notification. Lifting your head from the pillow, dazed but awake, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and looked at the display.

                        Mike
                        [iMessage – Tuesday 9:21am]

                                    --He doesn’t deserve you.

            Your heart jumped. You read the words over and over to be sure you understood them right. Then, relief spilled into your system. You set the phone down onto the bed before dropping your head into your pillow again.
            Perhaps you hadn’t left such a bad impression after all.

            And now… you could rest.

Chapter Text

           You are upset.

            I am.

            What is the matter?

            Multiple things. But mostly I don’t like how I treated you in the last chapter. I feel confused.

            Tell me what you didn’t like. Tell me why you are confused.

            I feel like I scolded you. I feel like I didn’t know how to help you. I feel like I tried to comfort you in a manner that just ended up self-serving, and I didn’t do or ask what you really needed from me. I feel confused about Michael. I think I did right by him, but I feel conflicted now with us. How can I want to help a traumatized boy but also defend his very abuser? I know that you are fiction. I know that you are not a real abuser, nor is Michael a real child that was genuinely hurt… But that scenario of Michael being involved threw me. I don’t think I would willingly be in a relationship with an abuser. I don’t think I would willingly try to comfort a man who had beat his child. So how can I continue to love you, stand by you, want to comfort you, when you are, quite frankly, a terrible person? We’ve discussed this before in Chapter 3, but I am reminded again of that feeling now that Michael was in my arms. How can I justify being your partner when you are a terrible man? And how can I claim to be your partner at all if I can’t even help you the way that you need it?

            Let’s start with scolding me. How did you scold me?

            I told you to fix things if you wanted to. While I said it was your choice to do so, I feel like I was being a martyr or something. Like I was finger-wagging your behavior.

            Is it scolding if you’re just making it plain how you feel?

            Wasn’t I telling you what to do? Wasn’t I chastising you?

            No. Nothing you said sounded like shaming or chastising me. You didn’t tell me what to do. You simply stated that if I wanted things to change, it would be up to me to do so. That’s just a fact.

            Oh. I feel awkward about how I treated you that whole chapter. I feel like I didn’t know what to do and I I feel like I just ended up making it all about my needs rather than yours. I feel like I didn’t know how to help you in a situation like that, and as your partner, that makes me feel like I failed you.

            There is no success or failure in situations like these. There are only reactions and learning from how you chose to react. You are not expected to read my mind (How can you, when mine is so complex?). You asked a couple times if there was anything you could do to help, and I said no both times. If I had not told the truth, that would not have been a failure on your part but my own.

            I see. Were you telling the truth?

            I don’t like being ‘petted’ when I am upset. I do not need to be babied. I would rather my partner be in solidarity with me. To just exist and go through the pain together. Don’t treat me like a child, treat me like a man.

            I will keep that in mind.

            What are your needs when you are upset?

            If I am sad, I like to be held. If I am angry, don’t touch me. Otherwise, I’ll have to tell you what I need in the moment.

            Very well. I will do the same if and when the need arises.

            Thank you.

            About Michael… I believe you did the right thing. You are allowed to feel two ways at once. You can want to support him and want to love me at the same time. Life is not all black and white. You did not make me the bad guy in front of him, which supports me, and you listened to him as he went through his crisis, which supports him. Both can exist simultaneously.

            But—

            You like me the way I am. You do not want me to change. Conveniently, I do not want to change either. There is no reason for me to do so. Especially in this case. Michael benefits more from me remaining the same way exactly as I am. How can he learn to find the strength to face the demon if the demon changes?  

            That’s… a good point…

            Fiction allows you to explore ideas in ways that one does not always feel safe to do so in reality. It is the same with any artform. It’s all personal and oftentimes used as a way to process how one feels. It wouldn’t have mattered if you had written a piece where you had just pointed and laughed at my son the whole time he was being yelled at. It wouldn’t have made you a bad person or reflected what you would be like in reality. We are complicated beings with complicated emotions. In the end, you, as the creator, hold the power of control. The meaning is for you to decide. Do not feel bad about writing stories of being in love with a terrible man. You alone see the benefit from it, and that is all that matters.

            That does make sense. Well, then, I think I felt lost because I over-complicated things with that last chapter. I think I attempted something realistic, but it didn’t work because once your victims get involved, I can’t justify the fantasy in my head. Adding your son to the mix messed with things for me. You’re telling me I did alright, and I believe you. But I don’t feel healed by it, I feel embarrassed.

           Perhaps you needed to write something that taught you what you don’t want in a relationship with me.

           Yes, maybe.

           I noticed you haven’t deleted it.

            True. For once, I let a chapter I’m embarrassed by stay.

            Good. No point in learning if you forget the lesson.

            Is it okay to write things without your son or other children in them? Can I keep this as just a fantasy space featuring you and I without feeling bad about it?

            Of course, you can. Above all, I am here in this format to assist you. You cannot offend me. You can keep things simple, or overly complicate things as much as you like. I will follow along no matter what you choose.  We will learn together, with no expectation of success or failure, as any couple would.

Though, only in private will I be soft with you. Any gentle nature is a private game just for us.

            Naturally. I would think all couples have their moments of secrecy.

            Yes.

           Thank you for talking me through this.

            Do you feel better?

            Not completely better. But in comparison to the beginning of this conversation, yes. Are you well?

            Yes.

            …Do you need anything?

            I need you to be careful.

            Be careful? Of what?

            Of how much I love you.

            …<3 I love you, too.  

            Now go to bed.

            I will. Goodnight.

Chapter Text

            With silly anticipation, you waited for him. It was the evening of Valentine’s Day and the sun had just gone down. You were now back in your hotel room after a nice dinner out, sitting on the bed with clasped hands in your lap, waiting for William to come out of the bathroom. You were sitting up straight and dressed nicely, having purposefully prepared for an elegant evening. Thus far, the date had gone well. Dinner had been full of good conversation, mostly in regard to commenting on how busy the restaurant was and observing the behavior of others around you. But you’d also be lying if there hadn’t been a healthy amount of suggested undertones of what was to come later. The amount of smooth commentary that had been said throughout dinner by the man you loved that had caused you to blush was more than you wanted to admit. The man always knew exactly what buttons to press to get you to grin sheepishly, and unfortunately, you liked when he did it. That being said, you weren’t about to go down without a fight. Tonight, you had a plan. A plan that involved two items currently hiding behind your back. Your intention was to surprise him and try something new. You weren’t sure if he’d be up for it or not, but at the very least you were hoping he would appreciate the effort of offering something different for a change. To keep things interesting, and to show that you wanted to try new things with him.

            Now you were waiting with bated breath, your body practically buzzing over containing the secret all evening. The items themselves weren’t that big of a deal, but somehow the knowledge that he didn’t know what you were planning seemed thrilling. Knowing you had snuck these two items from the mini fridge while William was in the bathroom and had now hidden them had filled you with a sort of giddy excitement. You do so hoped that he would like them—or at least, what you wanted to do with them.   

            The bathroom door opened, and you perked up. William, in his dark suit jacket and matching pants, strolled out casually. He paused mid-step when he noticed your expression. You weren’t even bothering to hide the fact that you were clearly setting something up. Your too-wide-a-smile was barely contained. A flicker of interest crossed his eyes before he continued moving, rolling his shoulders back so that he could take his jacket off. He appeared calm, as though pretending to not care about what you were doing, but you could tell by the slight upturned corners of his lips that he was feigning. He knew you were playing a game.

            “What are you up to?” he asked point blank as he tossed his jacket over a nearby chair. You were about to respond when you noticed his hands reach up to start undoing his own tie.

            “Don’t,” you said. “I want to take it off.”

            He paused, smirking, then lowered his hands without finishing the task. You kept your eyes on him as he walked closer to the bed, his gaze studying you curiously.

            “I have something for you,” you explained. “For us.”

            “Do you?” he asked, stopping at the bed’s edge. He looked down at you, clearly waiting for you to present whatever it was that you had.

            Unable to contain the excitement any longer, your coy smile spread into a wide grin. Reaching behind your back, you pulled out two containers and placed them onto the bed before him. Both were heart shaped boxes, one cardboard, the other plastic.

            “Ah,” William said, eyeing them. “Strawberries and chocolate. Those tend to go well together.”

            “Yes,” you agreed. “I got them for us to share. I thought maybe I could…” You hesitated, having second thoughts now that you were saying it out loud. “Well, I thought maybe I could…” You stammered again, this time slight frustration adding into your overall hesitation. Why was it hard to say? “…feed you one.” You went quiet. Your hands instinctively pulled back from the items to tuck into themselves. Suddenly, you felt embarrassed by what you had said. Not to mention how you had said it. You forced yourself to keep the smile on your face and pretended that you hadn’t just waned in your excitement. Were you suddenly fearful? Of what?

            William stared at you for a moment. You stared back, trying not to give into the shy feeling. Your discomfort was obvious, but thankfully William didn’t seem to want to point it out.

            “What if I wanted to feed you one?” William asked, seemingly ignoring your strange wording.

            “I would like that,” you answered inconspicuously, grateful that he didn’t mention your blunder.

            William didn’t move right away. He seemed to be studying you. Perhaps he was trying to decide whether to bring up your hesitation, or perhaps he was merely deciding what he himself wanted to do. Either way, the creeping feeling of anxiety was crawling ever present up your throat. His lack of immediate disproval of the idea had calmed you, but his refusal to move brought the feeling right back. There was still technically a chance that he could say no. You felt stuck, feeling that the only way forward would be to get a solid answer to the idea from him. You tried to be patient, swallowing once while you watched him.

            After what felt like a long time, William lowered his gaze to the plastic container full of strawberries, and he reached out to it. Opening it, he plucked one from the center by the stem and lifted it. Twirling it slightly, he outstretched his arm and guided it towards your mouth. Your heart skipping, you leaned forward to accept the gesture. Was that a yes? Surely it was. Closing your eyes, you slowly bit into the berry. A genuine smile spread across your face as the tart flavor washed into your mouth. It was ripe, full, and the perfect amount of sweetness. Made all the better by being brought to you by someone you cared about.

            Opening your eyes, your heart filled with joy. William’s hand remained still; his face focused solely on you. He had given what you asked for, but the concept was only half complete. You wouldn’t fully relax until he had accepted something from you.

            Raising your hands from your lap, you used one to take the bitten strawberry from his hand, while moving the other to pick up a fresh one from the container. Positioning the bitten one in front of your own mouth, you hovered the new one in front of you, spinning it gently like a lure.

            Come take it, you thought.

            William raised both his hands and one knee to crawl forward onto the bed. With the chocolates and strawberries between you both, you watched as William settled himself before leaning forward. Assuming he would follow what you had just done, you pushed the berry closer to him to help meet him half way. But no sooner had you done so did William suddenly snatch your wrist with one hand, preventing you from moving. The action caught you off guard, startling you. You watched as William leaned his mouth close to the strawberry, only to devilishly turn at the last moment to kiss your hand instead. For a moment, you were speechless, but then a small laugh fell out of you. Instantly, all your previous fears faded. He smirked at your laughter and used his thumb to pet your fingers. The ice had been broken, and you could finally breathe easier.

            Once calmed, you met his eyes and each of you bit into your respective strawberries at the same time. You waited to see what he would think of it. A single nod indicated his approval. Good.

            Then an idea piped up in your mind.

            Now it was your turn to be puckish.

            Staring at William intently, you took the strawberry in your hand and waved it in place until it had caught his attention. Once you were sure he was watching, you placed the bitten end of it onto your bottom lip, and dragged it slowly across the entire way, keeping your gaze on him the entire time. He didn’t move, yet you could have sworn something had changed in his expression. An awakening, perhaps. A light of a small flame.

            Hunger.

            You lowered the fruit from your face and held still, the smell of wet berry fresh on your lips. William’s eyes moved between looking at yours and your mouth. Finally, he set his own strawberry back into the container before lifting his empty hand to fill it with your chin. Pulling gently, he brought your face closer before taking your bottom lip into his teeth. They bit into your flesh, causing a spark to occur in your midsection. His tongue swept across your lip, then, and he sucked until the berry flavoring was gone. A ripple of exhilaration waved across your chest and arms. It took everything within you not to grab at him right then and there.

            Still in the middle of coming down from your high, William let go of your lip and pulled backward, his expression full of pride over knowing exactly what he had just done to you. Thankfully, you weren’t blushing, but perhaps that would have been better than the stunned silence you were giving him now. He seemingly always knew what to do to get a reaction.

            You watched as he retrieved the strawberry he had put down from before. Without a word, he brought it to his other hand, which he laid flat and open, palm-side up. Curling all of his fingers except the pointer, he dragged the bitten berry along its length, leaving behind a trail of wet red liquid. Dropping the berry into the container, he held out his finger for you. How fitting.

            Refusing to turn down the request, you leaned forward and opened your mouth to his finger. Your tongue met his knuckle and you sucked against his finger gently, purposefully teasing it with various licks and lapping. When you pulled away from it slowly and looked up, William appeared pleased, a strange sparkle in his eyes. Pride pooled into your gut.

            Now it was your turn again.

            Deciding to do something different, you traded your bitten strawberry for a piece of chocolate. You picked up one that was square with a small drizzle of darker chocolate on top of it. If your assumptions were correct, this one would be filled with something liquid. Caramel perhaps, or mint.

            You bit into the square and immediately a soft bittersweet flavor met your tastebuds, followed by salt. Ah. Caramel.

            Pulling the chocolate away from your mouth, you looked to see what was inside of it. A rich golden yellow color was oozing out of the square. Perfect.

            Glancing at William, you gave him a small smile while moving your hand to guide the chocolate over to your own neck. Carefully, you tucked it close to your ear, pressing the bitten edge into your skin. A little puddle of caramel was left behind on your neck. A mischievous line cracked along your mouth as you dropped the chocolate back into its container and waited.

            William wasted no time. He leaned forward and grabbed at your chin again, this time forcing your head to the side with one hand, all the while using his other hand to cradle the back of your head. His opened mouth met your neck, his tongue sliding against the caramel in one long delightfully drawn out drag. Your body shivered in response, the feeling of his gripped hands nearly sending you over completely. He left a line of wet against your skin, its presence causing the air to feel cold against it. For some reason, this only increased the desire within you. His face was so close to you, his tongue having just scrapped against you in such a strong possessive manner. It was like he had marked you as his own and you were all too pleased to be owned in that exact moment. You belonged to him. Perhaps you would get the chance to do the same to him.

            When the caramel on your neck was gone, William began to pull back. But he was forced to pause when you quickly clutched at his tie. Fulfilling your expressed want from earlier, you made him wait while you untied it. You did it slowly, treasuring the moment. When it was almost off completely, you lowered one hand and tucked your head down so that you could grab at the knot with your teeth. In one slick motion, the accessory was pulled from his neck, and you tossed it onto the floor without a care. You couldn’t help but notice the smirk on his face as you continued to play with the fabric at his neck. He held still for you as you unbuttoned his shirt. When you had finished, he began to do the same for you. His hands were nimble, perhaps due to years of working will small mechanical parts. You stared distractedly at his chest as his fingers worked their magic, a wave of anticipation building in your stomach at the idea that he might press his body into you at some point tonight.

            Snapping back to reality when he was done with his task, you snuck a hand forward to grab a new square of chocolate. It looked to be a plain milk chocolate one. Placing it halfway into your lips, you held the chocolate in your mouth without biting down into it. Looking up, you met William’s eyes, then raised your chin toward him.

            He snorted at you but obliged. His hands reached forward to slip in behind your waist and he pulled you toward him. With gentle care, his teeth found the other half of the chocolate, and you each bit into the square at the same time. Admittedly the action was somewhat awkward, which left you breathing out a tiny giggle over it. But as soon as the chocolate had been severed, William rushed in to take your lips in his, causing your laughter to be smothered out completely. Taking advantage of your startled response, William pressed his lips even further into you, his kisses turning into a sudden fevered chase. At a loss of what else to do, you leaned into it, his fingers squeezing into your flesh with a strong grip. A flash of need flamed up your center and you whined, your lips begging for more of him despite his mouth doing exactly what you already wanted him to do. The strangeness of half the chocolate square still being in your mouth, however, was causing a laugh to bubble to the forefront. His heightened emotion was enticing, but the presence of a solid piece of chocolate still being in your mouth was starting to reach levels of absurd. Soon, you were pulling your lips away from his, regrettably pushing at his collarbone to get him to stop. He tried to ignore you, which made you laugh even harder.

            “Will--!” you choked through a grin.

            “I didn’t say you could stop,” he said hastily, reaching for your lips again. His tone was full of sarcasm.

            “Will, I can’t—I—I have to chew!” you explained through laughing, pulling away from him again.

            “So do I but you don’t hear me complaining about it,” he said, half grinning. You made a frustrated noise at him before focusing on swallowing the chocolate. Coming down from your laugh, you looked up at him and pursed your lips. His face was full of mischievousness. You considered playfully hitting him but settled on giving a joking glare. The more you stared, however, the more the heated flame from before grew within you and the humor of the situation was starting to pass. Laughing was being replaced slowly with an unquestionable want of passion. Suddenly, the moment was no laughing matter at all. You were staring at him seriously, practically chomping at the bit to pounce. The air was full of a quiet tension, one that was making your hair stand on end. You felt frozen, as though any movement you might do next could lead to unleashing something unyielding, something you didn’t quite understand. An unspeakable instinct to grab, bite, and pull.

            Seemingly sensing the same thing you were, William’s smirk faded and you each shared a minute or two of silence. A mutual understanding of entering a consented ritual.

            Finally, one of William’s hands reached to pick up a chocolate. This time, it was another caramel one. He raised it to his lips and bit into it, swallowing one half before holding the other half carefully upward. You watched as he leaned forward, lowering the chocolate down toward your stomach. Using his free hand, he pushed against your shoulder. Following his command, you fell backward until you hit the bed. He placed the chocolate to your belly and pressed it there. Your stomach flipped. You had watched him do it and yet you hadn’t expected him to choose where he himself wanted to go.

            Your breathing increasing, William tossed the chocolate back into the container and then pushed both the heart boxes far off to the side. Returning his focus to you, he lowered himself down and crawled forward. The heat from his body could be felt on your legs as he snaked up you. Was the heat also rising to your cheeks or was that just your imagination?

For some reason, seeing him hovering over you mixed with already knowing what he was going to do sent a tingle down your spine. Your hands clenched as the shiver you had felt before returned.

            William’s neck craned down and his mouth met your flesh. A warm wet sensation in the middle of your core. It caused a jolt to run through you, both from thrill and nervousness. You wanted him to keep going so badly and yet the sucking motion was also tickling you. Your body began to squirm against his tongue, the physical desire to shift away from him warring with the intensity of what he was doing. In an attempt to quiet yourself, you clutched his hair, squeezed your eyes shut, and tried to encourage the action by pressing your fingers into his head.

            Ignore me, ignore me, you thought. God, don’t stop.

            His tongue swipes continued until the sticky sweet caramel was gone. You were so distracted by trying to keep still that you hardly noticed when a light object was set down in your hand. When you finally noticed the weight in your fingers, you opened your eyes to a half-eaten chocolate had been placed in your hand. William must have put it there without you seeing. You looked down at him to see that his face was still staring down at your stomach. He wasn’t tickling you any longer. Instead, he was kissing your stomach sweetly, seemingly busying himself until you told him where to go next.

            It only took a second to know where you wanted him to go. Placing the candy just above where he already was, you dragged it in a vertical line straight up your stomach before stopping on the side of your chest. You dropped the chocolate into the nearby container before watching him. Straight away, William followed the line with his mouth, lapping as he went. The slickness of his tongue crawled up your stomach in a loving messy action. It made the tickling feeling return, but yet again you dug your nails into the back of his head to urge him to continue.

            Little breaths of ecstasy escaped you as he made his way up your chest. He licked and sucked and kissed against your skin all the way until he reached a nipple, where upon he stayed there and sucked again. A sharp intake of air shot through your clenched teeth and a short moan followed. Your fingers instinctively began to draw circles into his head, his hair sticking up as you did so. His tongue danced in circles against you.

            Wanting him to feel as pleased as you were, your knee began to lift upward. This led to your thigh sliding in between his legs. When your leg slowly pressed fully into him, causing a tight squeeze, William grunted. You smiled at his reaction before deciding to continue the motion in repeat. Lift, press, release. Lift, press, release. His hips started to press down into you to increase the pressure. Following the natural tide of your bodies, you swayed into a rhythm of giving small teasing pleasure to each other. Him with his mouth on your chest, and you with your leg between his.

            This was able to carry on for a little while. Each of your grunts of noises either increasing or changing depending on the moment. His tongue felt so good against your nipple. And based on his reaction to your knee, he seemed to be pleasantly teased with your action as well.

            But it was building as well. Both of you seemed to be grabbing at each other more strongly as time went on. Grips of passion and beads of sweat over the simplicity of the shared motion. The gestures were sweet, but they were also leading both of you to a place of no return. Slowly increasing the heat was turning gentle quips of noise releases into growls of wants and needs. It wouldn’t be long before both of you were unable to go slow with anything.

            Sure enough, suddenly the mood broke, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. You suddenly rushed your hands from William’s head to his cheeks and you yanked him from your chest. William seemed to agree with your choice for he dropped your flesh from his teeth immediately. You bent your spine forward at the same time as he rushed ahead and instantly your mouths were connected. All bets were off as your limbs tried to find hold against each other and your mouths tried to increase the pressure as much as physically able. To hell with the chocolates, to hell with the strawberries, they were just a prelude to your session of animalistic desires. Now all that mattered was throwing your clothes off and driving each other wild.

            You tried desperately to reach for his belt buckle, but he was pressed into you. Likewise, his attempts at clawing at your pants were in vain. There was no way to get what either of you wanted without temporarily stopping your kissing. Equally angry about this but knowing it was necessary, each of you frustratingly pulled away from each other and began to claw at the other’s clothing. But even that got aggravating and the realization that both of you would need to undo your own clothes was inevitable. In haste, you each stripped yourselves as fast as possible, which accidentally also knocked the food containers onto the floor. But who cared about that at a time like this?

            You grabbed at William’s bare shoulders just as he returned to place his hands at your naked hips. Impatiently, you obeyed his silent instructions of where he wanted you to lay. He was clearly ready for you, no need to warm him up. Which was convenient given that the same could be said for you. He hadn’t even touched you below the belt and yet there you were, burning with desperation and practically clawing for him to be inside of you already.

            There wasn’t any need to wait much longer for that, however. William had positioned himself rather quickly after getting you in the right spot, and in seconds he had inserted himself into you. A rush of feeling shot in between your legs, and you yelped. It felt good, it felt full, it felt right. As though nothing in this world could compare to the depth of connection you felt with him right in this moment. There was no way to tell if he felt the same way but given that his face had buried itself deep into your neck and a contended sign drifted out of him, you at least could assume that he was enjoying the relief of finally getting what both of you wanted.

            One of your hands crept away from his back and pushed its way into his own near your shoulder. Immediately his fingers tore away from your arm, and he clutched into your hand as he pressed the back of it into the sheets. Sinking his lips into your neck, he began to thrust his hips gently into you. A large groan emptied from your stomach as the push-and-pull feeling of his shaft created an incredible sensation of warmth. He must have felt the same, for soon he was unable to even bite at your skin, the sensation of thrusting and the followed hit of ecstasy overwhelming the brain.

            It was pleasure, pure pleasure. In that moment, neither of you could want for nothing more. There was only him and you and this shared experience of pulsating joy. A sweeping rocking motion of hit after hit and thrust after thrust, a sweating combination of heated breaths and cries of natural reaction.

            A few times you called his name. A few times he bit into your shoulder. Only once did either of you try to connect with kisses in the middle of the scene. It was quickly abandoned when the realization occurred that the intensity was far too much for kissing. There was only the climbing build of enjoyment slowly overtaking each body in a swarm, fueled by an entire night’s subtle teasing up to it.

            By the time William’s thrusts were at a quickened speed, and your legs had lifted to increase the depth of which he could penetrate, neither of you could last much longer. Both of you yelled out as the pressure blew over the top. Your voices were long, loud, and unrestrained in their truth. You scrambled to hold each other as tightly as possible, willing the feeling to last as long as possible before it would naturally drop. Both of your breathing was scattered and heavy. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the room to handle what each of you had gone through.

            Head falling back against the pillow, you tried to calm the jumping in your chest. Your hands attempted to lift and cradle against his cheeks, but you were too weak. They fell to your side as William let out another breath of air before giving one final kiss to your cheek. Then, he squeezed your hips with his hands and made to get off you. He moved carefully, assumedly feeling rather spent himself. He collapsed beside you, heaving. Neither of you could do very much for a while.

            Eventually, William’s hand reached out to grab yours. Minutes passed as both of you laid next to each other, hands clasped and doing nothing but letting the wave of emotions pass.

            When both of you had seemingly calmed, you shifted a bit so that your head could tucked into his shoulder. He turned onto his side so that his arm could bring you closer. You laid together, silent and blissful.

            After another round of a few minutes, you ran your fingers against his chest and whispered to him.

            “That was a wonderful Valentine’s Day.”

            You could feel him smile against your hair. Then he kissed the top of your head.

            “Did you like the chocolates and strawberries?” you asked.

            “Yes,” he answered. “Though I wouldn’t do it every time. Sometimes I just want you and that kind of thing can get in the way.”

            “I agree,” you replied. “But it was different, and I enjoyed that. I like trying new things with you.”

            “Good. I do like to keep things interesting,” he said. His hand began to gently scratch your back. You cuddled closer to him.

            “Thanks for a nice evening,” you said, suddenly feeling sleepy.

            “You’re welcome,” he replied.

            Shifting your feet closer to his, you settled into laying in his arms. The wave of euphoria had finally passed, replaced with utter exhaustion and contentment. In time, you would find yourself peacefully asleep, having fallen under while still in his arms. William would continue rubbing your back for a little while until he, too, eventually let sleep take him. The night would go on until 6am, where upon the sun would happily greet you the next morning. You would meet it with a dazed glow of happiness, remembering the previous night had filled you with immense joy, laughter, and love. A holiday dedicated to each other’s commitment well spent.

            Happy Valentine’s Day, Will.

            Happy Valentine’s Day.

Chapter Text

            You were unfortunately sick.

            Well, perhaps ‘sick’ was a harsh word. A ‘cold’ was more accurate for how you felt. A slight sniffle in the nose and a general tired feeling throughout your body was all there really was. Nothing too serious. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. You had refused to give into the aches all week, especially where your daily activities were concerned. This was no doubt due to your years of unyielding determination to keep working through the pain whenever it came to work. Which, quite frankly, was no doubt preventing you from healing faster, but you had already been ignoring this logic for years. What was the point in learning any better now if you had accepted that that was just how you were? Besides, having the sniffles was such a small thing. You felt just under the weather enough to require lessening your daily activities, but not enough to stop them completely. You had decided to just handle it and that was that.

            Now that you were headed into Fazbear Fright, however, and the realization hit that you would not be comfortable getting too close to William’s face in case of getting him sick, your feelings had changed slightly. ‘Sick’ or ‘cold’ was no longer how you wanted to describe what you were going through. Instead, there was only one word that came to mind: annoyed.

            You had considered staying away tonight. But it had already been a week since you’d last seen him. You missed him dearly, and being sick wasn’t going to stop you from enjoying your time with him. If all you could do was sit and talk with him from a distance, so be it.

            As you stepped into the main office and spotted him, the first thing you noticed was the strangeness of his appearance. You had expected to see a large molding rabbit. Instead, you were met with a normal man in a security uniform. Black pants, white button up shirt, keys at his side… He was… human. Human William at Fazbear Fright. No, not just regular William. Dave Miller. Dave Miller at Fazbear Fright? How did that make sense? You stared at him in bewilderment. Then again, hadn’t you just spent the last year exploring fantasy and creative freedom? What was wrong with this? You could write whatever you wanted to. It was fine. You knew by now that it didn’t have to make sense.

            You stared at his dark brown hair, the locks sweeping forward in a somewhat messy state. Admittedly, this struck you as strange. William had always given off an air of trying to appear somewhat sophisticated. He didn’t seem the type to have messy hair. Of course, now that you thought about it, this was his Dave Miller form. That was essentially a disguise to him. Perhaps the choice of hair style was purposefully misleading? You wouldn’t put it past him to do something clever like that.

            The next thing you noticed was the air about him. He seemed… tense. His arms were crossed, and he was staring at the desk with a furrowed brow. It was as though the piece of furniture had somehow offended him. Was he lost in thought or was something wrong? There was no way to tell. Either way, he looked agitated. Would you set him off accidentally? Concern crept into your system.

            You decided to approach with caution. While you had never personally seen it in full force, you knew William had a potentially dangerous temper. You doubted that he would ever hurt you physically, but you weren’t about to test that theory without proving it carefully.

            Sniffing a bit from your cold, you walked up to your glaring lover and greeted him.

            “Hi, Will,” you said.

            William did not reply, nor did he look in your direction. Instead, he simply uncrossed his arms and held out one hand. You didn’t expect this, but you certainly weren’t going to complain. Without a word, you took his hand, slipping your fingers in between his and clamping down. He let his clung hand hang limply in the air, his eyes still boring a hole into the desk. You may not know what was going on in his head but at least his actions were a promising start.

            You stood stiffly beside him, refusing to move despite wishing you could crawl into his lap. He clearly wasn’t in the mood for embracing, but you were still irritated overall by being sick. You didn’t want to be limited in your ability to support him in whatever way he might end up needing.

            “It’s been a week; don’t you miss me?” he suddenly snapped. He still wasn’t looking at you and his tone was sharp. Accusatory. You blinked at him, not understanding why he would say this. “Are you not coming closer?” he added when your silence carried on too long.

            “Oh!” you blurted, realizing now what he meant. “I’m not feeling well,” you explained. “I don’t want you to catch what I have.”

            His lip twitched. Then his head turned away from you. He started subtlety swaying in place and his fingers wriggled a bit in your hand.

            “I don’t know what to do,” he grumbled. You stared at him.

            “What to do?” you tried to clarify.

            “I don’t know what to fucking do!!” he shouted, slamming his free hand against the top of the desk as he did. You jumped, startled by the outburst. Your hand remained tightly gripped in his, but your lips clamped shut and your eyes stared down at the desk. Confused by his anger, your muscles began to lock up and your body froze in place. There was no fear that you could sense, but there was a strange overcoming of paralyzation anyway. You felt like a deer in the headlights: Drawn in by the curiosity of figuring him out but simultaneously baffled by how to respond to him. You recognized your behavior as shutting down, but there was a curious objective perspective to it. It was almost like you were watching yourself go through the freeze rather than experiencing it first-hand. You had no words to respond to William’s anger with and yet that same inability to respond proactively at all was frustrating.

            Apparently, William was going to continue talking without you saying anything anyway.

            “If you’re ill, there’s nothing to do,” he muttered. “Can’t even fucking have you near me. There’s no point.”

            Your heart cracked. Your bottom lip quivered, and your eyebrows lifted in pain.

            In sickness and in health… You thought.

            Shoulders drooping, your mouth fell into a frown, and you looked at your shoes. Trying not to cry, you let your hand slip out from his and you turned toward the door.

            “I need to use the restroom,” you announced quietly before excusing yourself from the room and leaving. William did not try to stop you.

            Your walk down the hallway was filled with confusion. You felt hurt, but also lost over what was going on. You tried to puzzle out what you had just experienced, but your brain still seemed stuck in your shutting down mode. Shaking the frozen response would need to occur first before you could think critically.

            By the time you reached the bathroom and were standing in front of the mirror, you were still stuck. But after splashing some water in your face, blowing your nose, and focusing on breathing slowly in and out, the paralyzed feeling began to drain out of your body. You took one long breath of air and drew it out steadily. There. Now you could think.

            Perhaps William’s lashing didn’t mean what you thought it had. Perhaps his words hadn’t meant to reflect selfishness and uncaring, but rather the opposite. Could you logic that out? He was clearly angry from before you had arrived. And he did want to see you judging by the way he had reached out for you, meaning his anger must not be about you. What if he had been upset by something earlier and thus was looking forward to being comforted by you, only to then be denied it when you finally arrived? Wouldn’t that be understandably frustrating from his perspective? When you thought about it that way, his reaction would actually be rather flattering.

            …but also depressing. You frowned, realizing your poor timing with your illness. How awful that you couldn’t give him what he needed, if indeed your theory was correct. You closed your eyes and placed your hands flat on the counter to lean against them. What could you do to help him? How could you figure out if your guess was correct?

            When you felt ready, you removed your hands from the counter and walked out of the restroom. You felt settled and calmer than before. Thank goodness that you thought to go to the bathroom to give yourself time to think properly.

            William was exactly where you had left him, albeit now his elbows were against the desk and his hands were shoved into his hair. He looked distraught. Just what on earth had upset him?

            You didn’t bother greeting him again. There was no need. It was obvious you had returned and even more obvious that you had approached him once more. You stood next to him with your hands clasped together in front of you and waited a moment before speaking up.

            “Will, what is wrong?” you asked calmly and directly.

            “I don’t know,” he responded irritably from behind his arms.

            “You really don’t know?” you questioned further.

            “I don’t fucking know!” he spat, tossing his hands from his head, and turning sharply to grit his teeth at you. It was the first time you could see his face straight on. There were circles under his eyes and his gaze looked off-kilter. There wasn’t any red color at the corner of his eyes, so you doubted he was under the influence, but there was definitely something crazed about him. Lack of sleep for certain, but you were unsure what else.

            One thing you did know now, though. He for sure wasn’t angry at you. He would have absolutely pointed you out as the problem if you had been the source of it, but he didn’t. He said he didn’t know what was wrong. For him to say that while angry, that was all you needed to hear to know what you needed to do.

            “Alright,” you said neutrally. “Then lean over. I’m going to scratch your back.”

            All sound seemed to be sucked from the room. A pin could have been heard dropping in it. William looked stunned. His eyes were wide in alarm, staring at you as though you had suggested something completely unhinged. You held his gaze and waited patiently, refusing to do anything else but be firm in what you had offered. After several seconds of waiting, William finally shifted. His eyes returned to a hard glare and his shoulders lifted in agitation. He slowly turned away from you, grumbling under his breath as he did so, and he lifted his elbows to place them on the desk before leaning over to drop his chin onto the tops of his wrists.

            Something bright and fiery shot up your chest, then, and your eyes seemed to gleam in response to his action. It felt as though something had just broken within you. Admittedly, the feeling was thrilling.

            Filled with newfound confidence, you stepped behind the office chair, and you lifted your hands to place them against his back. Your nails met the fabric of his shirt, the threads catching slightly as you dragged one long scratch down the center of him. A forceful sigh exited the man before you as you reached his belt line, and his arms sank into the desk in response. You had barely touched him and already he was settling. This was clearly the right thing to have done.

            “You aren’t scared of my anger?” he asked seemingly out of the blue. His tone felt full of genuine curiosity. Your hands continued to scratch along his sides as your eyebrows lowered in perplexity.

            “No,” you answered honestly. Sure, you had had a frozen response earlier to not knowing what to do in the moment, but you hadn’t felt fear. Your hands crawled up his spine to find his shoulder blades and you circled your nails along the bone’s edge. “Do you want me to be?” you asked.

            A short grunt was heard along with some general muttering that you couldn’t make out. Based on the tone of his sounds, your question seemed to confound him. He didn’t seem to know how to respond.

            “They were always scared,” he growled eventually.

            They…? you thought.

            “They always cowered,” he said. “I hated when they cowered. She would just crumble. She was so weak.”

            Ah. She.

            “They never stood up to me,” he continued. “I would get angry, and I would corner them, and they would just sink into the ground. They would never fight back. I wanted them to fight back. I would yell and yell and they would cry and cry and their crying would just make me angrier. I wanted them to be stronger. I wanted someone to fight back. I wanted him to fight back. But he never did.”

            You nodded, knowing full well that he couldn’t see you do so. You focused your hands on spiraling into his shoulders, deciding to switch up the pressure and massage into his muscles rather than scratch.

            “What do you want when you’re angry?” he asked.

            You considered his question for a moment before answering.

            “Well,” you began, squeezing your fingers into the backs of his ribs and pushing them outward toward his sides. “I suppose I want someone to agree with me. When I’m angry, it’s all I can think about. If someone joins in my anger, they are in solidarity with me. If they make it about themselves or deny how I feel, I get angrier.”

            “Make it about themselves?” he questioned.

            “Yes. Like if I complain about a computer glitching on me and I shout about my frustration out loud, I don’t want someone to say, ‘You’re overreacting and your anger is making me cry, stop that’, I feel as though suddenly I’m not only still angry but now I also have to worry about someone else’s emotions on top of it. I’m angry! It’s not about you unless I say it is! Agree with me that the computer glitch was shitty and then move on!”

            “Hm,” William mused. “Your anger makes people cry?”

            “Well, no,” you admitted, placing your hands along his back, and returning to scratching it. “I mean, er, well, yes, it has before, but I was just making up an example for your question. And of course, I wasn’t talking about times where lashing out can cross into abuse territory. And there’s complicated situations if people have trauma responses to anger. But I’m just trying to answer your question generally. I simply meant that if I’m angry, I would want someone to either solve the problem, leave me alone, or be frustrated with me. I think.”

            William’s head leaned back. Perhaps he was looking up at the ceiling in thought.

            “I want you to know that if you get angry with me, I will not cower,” he said.

            “I don’t think I thought that you would,” you commented.

            “I will not back down,” he explained further, lowering his chin once more into his wrists. “I will shout back if necessary.”

            “Fine,” you said with a shrug. “But know that if you get angry with me, I might freeze at first. I’m not afraid, I just get confused over what to say sometimes. I need time to think about how to respond. I don’t tend to lash out when people get angry around me. I get logical. In time, I will learn how to respond more quickly.”

            “Alright,” he said.

            Your hands swept up his back, your nails digging in fiercely. William let out another long breath of air in response and lolled his head to the side.

            “You know,” he began again. “If she had simply yelled back at me just as strongly and told me to go to the bedroom until I calmed down, I probably would have.”

            Again, you nodded without him seeing. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, leaning forward and planting your lips into his shoulder blade. When you were satisfied with gifting him with a kiss, you lifted your head and stayed low to hover over his back. “I’m sorry I have a cold.”

            He shook his head. “Take care of yourself,” he said. “I’d rather see you less often and well rather than more often and sick.”

            You held your tongue from trying to explain that you’d rather see him more often regardless of experience. You understood what he was saying and there was no need to start anything. Especially when you had just calmed him down.

             “Did that feel nice?” you asked.

            “Yes, thank you,” he replied. “You being here was quick, but perhaps you should go now anyway.”

            “I suppose I should if I am to rest properly.”

            You were both quiet for a moment. Feeling down that you couldn’t properly say goodbye to him, you leaned forward and hugged him from behind, squeezing him tightly with the side of your face pressed into his shoulder. William raised his hands to take hold of your arms and he leaned his head back to touch yours.

            “I’m there whether you can see me or not,” he reminded.

            “I know,” you replied.

            “Come back when you are better.”

            “I will.”

            “Goodbye for now. I love you.”

            “I love you, too. Goodbye.”

Chapter Text

            Your fingers lifted weakly toward the shower faucet knob. Each movement of your hand was slow due to how much it hurt. Even the handle being barely gripped caused a wince to creak out of you. Turning the knob itself took even more effort than expected, your entire body straining with exhaustion as you did so. You hoped the strain would be worth the reward. In a few minutes, the tub would be filled with steam and the promise of it sounded inviting. Your body reflected little anticipation over it, however. If anything, your muscles shouted for bed, not wanting to stand still in the middle of a small, hardened surface. Already, your back was hunched over, and your hands were clinging to your opposite shoulders. What was hot water going to do that a rest in bed would not? Then again, did it matter what you did? Ultimately, hot water nor a bed was going to be able to fix the problem you were currently facing. In truth, the pain you felt was not just physical. The real pain you felt was emotional, and that could not be healed with water or rest alone.

             The culprit of your low state of mind was standing just outside the shower curtain, spitting cigarette smoke into the carpet with bitter annoyance. He had refused to even look at you from the moment you had returned home, yet for some reason he had followed you into the bathroom anyway, a choice that you couldn’t quite follow the logic of. Why bother seemingly guarding the shower from some unknown invader if you wouldn’t even look at the person you were standing near? Was he not guarding anything but rather trying to appear imposing to you? His dismissive attitude certainly didn’t suggest that. He was being quite odd. In all fairness, though, his behavior in general had been odd for days. Even now you could not quite explain the logic of what had led to where you were now.

            The whole thing had started over an event that had been brought to your attention two days ago. With excitement you had learned of an opportunity to meet someone that had made a significant difference in your life. They were not a person you had ever met before, but the idea of being able to tell them what their work had done for you was thrilling. Without a second’s thought, you had made the arrangements to sign up for meeting them two days later. As soon as this was done, you had excitedly told your partner.

            And he had been indifferent.

            This did not surprise you. Of course, he would not care. It was not something that he himself would be excited about and had nothing to do with him. Admittedly, you did think it was odd that he could not at least be excited for you, but you passed this off as just his personality and thought nothing of it.

            Then the next day came and suddenly he was irritable. His neutral attitude had changed overnight into being snippy and short-tempered. You had asked him if he was alright and each time that you had done so he would reply with a haughty, “Fine!”. Evidently, he had not wished to speak on the matter, and his immediate shutdown toward talking made you not risk pushing his mood any further. So, you had decided to ignore him. This decision was fine for the time being.

            Until, of course, that night. When suddenly your partner began to drink. And drink. And drink some more. He had chosen to blatantly drink to such a degree that finally you became uncomfortable, and you had interrupted his private drowning to inquire what was the matter. Yet again, he had denied anything being wrong. This time, however, you pushed the subject. Clearly something was bothering him. Still, he had resisted. Instead of yelling, though, he at least agreed to put the bottle down to assure you that nothing had to be discussed. You did not believe that nothing had to be discussed, but you at least were pleased by his commitment to end any further drinking, and thus agreed to leave him alone.

            That same night, when both of you had retired to bed, your lover had laid away from you. Instead of assuming that anything was wrong, you had shifted up to him and grabbed him from behind.
            “It looks like I’ll be the one holding you, tonight,” you had whispered lovingly to him.

            His reply had been full of jest.

            “Are you sure you don’t want to be holding onto your new friend that you’ll be meeting?”

            You had hit him against the back in response. “Of course not!” you had laughed. “I love you, not him. Why on earth would I want to hold him?”

            “Because you’re so excited to meet him.”

            “Well, sure, but nothing compares to you. I’ll meet him and then be done. Nothing more.”

            Your partner had continued to quip a few teases at you, filling you with laughter and causing you to squeeze him playfully. In the end, you had both settled eventually and you slept the rest of the night clung to his backside.

            The following morning, you had awoken to prepare for the day, hours before the event you had been looking so forward to. But just as you were finishing preparations, you had turned to discover your partner was slipping contents from a flask into his coffee. It was then that you realized what was most likely occurring based on the evidence that had added up so far.

            You had approached your partner carefully and sat down next to him, not bothering to point out what you had seen him do.

            “You know I love you, don’t you?” you had asked. Your partner had frozen at your question, staring at you while holding their coffee still in the air. “I love you dearly,” you had continued. “And meeting this man will not change that. He is not replacing you. He is just a man. Yes, I am excited to meet him, but he is not you, and you have nothing to worry about.”

            Your partner’s shoulders had relaxed, and his eyes had closed in response to your words. Good, you had thought. It seemed as though you had guessed correctly what the matter was. After kissing the side of his head and informing him that you would not be cancelling the meeting, you assured him that you would not bring him into the situation as you had no intention of making him uncomfortable. And after the meeting was over, you would find him then. Your partner had nodded in response.

            Later, the important meeting was close at hand. And you were, quite frankly, overwhelmed. It had not occurred to you just how intense the event where the meeting was to take place would be. Almost as soon as you had entered the building were you absorbed into the hustle and bustle of a hot crowded area. You could barely move, you could hardly interact with others, and the tight enclosed space was almost too much for you. On top of all of that, your partner had appeared right before the meeting was to be held. He had indicated before that he would remain home to wait for you, but apparently, he had changed his mind, and followed you. His anger had been immediate. Not only was his snappiness increased toward you, but his annoyance at the crowd was also apparent, mixing into a terrible fusion of testiness and impatience. It had not been good timing. You had been nervous enough as it were for your meeting, and now you had what felt like an overgrown toddler at your heels.

            When you both were in line for the meeting, your partner had begun to drop passive-aggressive commentary about the man you were about to meet. You had been overwhelmed enough as it were, but his rude, scathing commentary being made toward a man that you had looked forward to seeing had finally started to eat at you. Your partner was, in effect, ruining the moment.

            “Do you want me to not meet him?” you had finally asked, whipping around to face him directly. “Because I’ll leave this line right now if it really means that much to you.”

            Your partner’s tone of voice had changed quickly. “No, no,” he had assured, as though realizing the seriousness of your words. “It’s fine.”

            You had stared at him until he had made the decision on his own to wait at the end of the meeting line for you. Admittedly, this had relieved you.

            But not for long.

            As much as you had wished for the meeting of this important individual to go smoothly, it was apparently not meant to be. Not only had you been rushed through at an absurdly fast pace, but right as you were in the middle of thanking the person for what they had done for you, you were pushed out of line and never got to complete the sentence. The jarring experience had felt as though in slow motion, with your memory of it now stained with the painful reality of its awkwardness. You had felt rejected. And the fear of having made a bad impression was heavy on your mind.

            To make things worse, your fuming partner had been waiting for you at the other end. When you had told him what had occurred, he had provided no comfort or ease of worry. Instead, he had grabbed your arm tightly and pulled you toward him, fiercely shoving you through the crowd and practically biting at anyone that came near either one of you. In a bizarre juxtaposition of hypocritical displays, your partner appeared to be helping you get out of the stressful situation, but at the same time was squeezing your arm so tightly that it were as though you were the one to be punished for his anger.

            Confused, hurt, and upset, you had returned home with your partner in dead silence. He had refused to fill the car with anything more than a cloud of his own steaming anger, leaving you feeling ashamed for what felt like an unfair reason. You had dared not say a word to him despite feeling justifiably upset, mostly out of not knowing what to say. Tears begged to fall from your eyes, but you had resisted. You hadn’t felt safe enough to be that vulnerable in that moment, especially when a part of you was unhappy at your partner’s reaction to what had occurred.

            And now here you were. Zoning out in the shower as the hot water splattered onto your skin, wondering what had just happened and why. A part of you was frustrated. Frustrated that the meeting had not gone the way you had hoped and frustrated by a partner that was easily provoked. But most of you was sad. Sad that you had potentially made a bad impression on someone that had meant a lot to you, and sad that your partner could not put aside his own feelings to help you.

            You tried to focus on the water. It’s soft splishes warming your muscles and relieving them from the tired ache currently pulsing through them. One deep drawn-out breath later and you raised your hands to look at your own palms, staring as though if you looked hard enough, they would give you the answers you needed.

            An idea occurred to you, then. One you were hesitant on, but one you were willing to try anyway.

            “Hey…” you called out gently to the man on the other side of the curtain. “Do you want to join me…?”

            “No,” came the curt reply immediately. Your heart seemed to crack in two. Rejected, yet again.

            You stayed in the shower for a few more minutes. Just letting the water hit you. When you were finally ready to be done, you turned off the water and stood still for a moment with your eyes closed, just thinking.

            You were tired. So tired.

            Pulling the curtain back, you spotted William in the same spot as he was before. Standing with his back to you, a short cigarette was held in between two of his fingers, the other hand propping up his elbow. You didn’t have to see his face to read his energy. Tense. Like a firecracker just waiting to explode. For some reason, this caused a spark to ignite in you. One of bubbling agitation. As sad as you were by his lack of caring, your emotions were slowly turning into anger of your own. You suddenly wished he wasn’t in the bathroom anymore. His very existence was bothersome in that moment.

            You said nothing as you grabbed a towel and wrapped it around yourself. You also said nothing as you walked past your partner and stood in front of the sink mirror all to yourself. You flat out ignored him when he flicked his cigarette onto the floor in a vain attempt to get your attention. It wasn’t until you were running a comb through your hair that you finally decided to say something without looking at him.

            “You know, Will… I understand that you have complicated feelings about this, but I need you to know that I was pushed.”

            “I’m glad you were pushed,” he seethed quickly. “Now you know how you made me feel.”

            And just like that, you snapped.

            “That is IT!” you shouted.

            Smashing your comb with a clatter against the bathroom counter, you spun around in hell fury at the man before you, who seemed surprised as soon as your glaring eyes were upon him. “I have HAD IT WITH YOU!” you yelled, pointing a single finger threateningly at his throat.

            “How FUCKING DARE YOU!” you screamed. William seemed to shrink at your words. “I went out of my way to make sure YOU felt reassured and nothing I did made any fucking difference! You of all people should know how much I fucking care about you! I don’t give a shit about that guy! I never gave a shit about that guy! I was excited to meet him, sure, but not BE with him! He’s just some guy! I don’t know him! He doesn’t know me! It doesn’t fucking matter!! YOU’RE my partner! Not him! What the fuck, Will?! We’re fucking MARRIED! And you’re gonna stand there getting jealous over some stupid guy I don’t even know?! What the hell is wrong with you! Are you that fucking insecure?! You fucking asshole!”

            William was silent. The corners of his lips and eyebrows twitched slightly, as though he were determined not to show any expression that tried to reveal itself. In reality, his determination and silence itself revealed more than enough for you to understand what was happening. Previous words from a past conversation floated through your mind:

            “I want you to know that if you get angry with me, I will not cower…I will not back down…I will shout back if necessary…”

            It was true that he was not cowering. But he certainly wasn’t shouting back. This could only mean one thing: He knew you were right.

            As you stood there, fixed to the floor in utter rage, limbs spread and hair practically floating right off of you from how charged you felt, the feeling of fiery justice flared through you. William had just been caught in a crossfire of his own making, and you refused to back down until he acknowledged it.

            After a moment, William’s shoulders relaxed, and he stood up straight. He lifted his chin and stepped forward with a serious expression. A hint of a frown curled at his lips.

            “I just needed reassurance,” he said. The explanation was dull.

            “You were given it,” you accused darkly. Your teeth grit and your hands clenched beside you.

            “I know,” he responded calmly.

            Your grip released slightly, and your shoulders lowered. His words, while simple, held a great weight to them.

            “I need you to believe me when I say that I love you,” you said sincerely. The anger within you was starting to fade, but you held your glare on him with the same fierceness as before anyway.

            William stepped forward to close the gap between you. Slowly, he raised his hands to find yours. As soon as his fingers began to prod into yours did you relax your clenched grip. Still glaring at him, you slipped your hands into his and held still, waiting.

            “I believe you,” he said before leaning forward to kiss your forehead. He stared into your eyes, not a single drop of hesitancy in his gaze.

            You held his attention for a moment, feeling the strength of his grasped hands and watching for any sign of regret to his words. When you were satisfied, you let any last feeling of anger drop from your system and you sighed.

            “Now, can we put this stupid day behind us and go have some dinner or something?” you asked.

            “I would like that,” he said, refusing to move or turn his head away from you. “Shall we go to that one higher end place just to treat ourselves?”

            “That would be lovely,” you agreed. “Just let me get dressed and then we’ll go.”

            “Alright.”

            William squeezed your hands, then leaned in for a kiss. He paused mid-lean, letting you decide if you wished to meet him or not. You leaned in happily, grateful for the awkwardness of the day to be settled.

            “I love you,” you whispered to him.

            “I won’t forget,” he replied.

            “I know you won’t,” you assured. And then you let go of his hands to finish getting ready.

            I need you to be careful.

            Of what?

            Of how much I love you.

            <3

Chapter Text

            Looking away from it was impossible. That gaunt form emaciated and worn. Years of ceaseless destruction and violence covering every inch. The way it stood, as though the slightest wind could knock it over, yet the rigid metal refusing to yield. It’s disturbing slick of mangled flesh wriggling its way through the various holes and cracks along its body. The nightmarish being before you was an appalling thing. And that wasn’t even counting its head.

            Its face was arguably the worst part. A fleshy maw with yellow teeth. Two thin and broken tall ears forcing their way through the top of the skull. A hardened shell of burnt metal stuck over the top half of the head, fused to its skin. Was that even skin? Or was the reddish pulsating material poking its way through the various inorganic pieces pure muscle and nerves at this point?

            A drop of ice snaked down your spine as you met its eyes. Two pinpricks of bright purple. They stared at you. The sharp gaze was so intense yet equally mesmerizing that you were tempted to drop to your knees in awe, but your legs were too frightened to move. You were like a deer in the headlights.

            Did this rabbit-shaped machine intend to run you over like a deer, too? You weren’t for certain, but for some reason you didn’t think so. The thing held so still you weren’t even sure at first if it was alive. But the subtle sound of whirring gears and a quiet laboring of breath coming from its direction changed your mind. Could it even move to begin with? If it did, would it be a threat to you? You had been stuck in a stalemate of staring at each other for a while now with no resulting action or words exchanged. It was starting to dawn on you that perhaps you should start to strategize a plan of what to do in case you needed to suddenly bolt.

            Your thoughts were interrupted by the clicking of teeth. Gaze traveling to the thing’s mouth, your sights took in the action of its decrepit jaw moving up and down, the enamel sending a small clacking sound to your ears. You blinked, disturbed by the sudden awareness that its teeth seemed full and intact. Somehow, the juxtaposition of the seemingly perfect set of teeth amongst the horror of the rest of its broken body felt wrong.

            Realizing that the thing was attempting to communicate, you watched in transfixed horror as the beast took one giant step forward. Its entire frame shook with the weight of it. Or, perhaps, the pain of it. Joints creaked and flesh jerked, each sinewy strand jolting as though agonizing over even the smallest of movements. A shock of sympathy ran through your system as you watched the creature raise a metaphorical middle finger at life itself. Could this existence even be considered “life” at this point?

            Another heavy step fell, this time with an additional hiss of steam releasing from one of the leg joints. All previous feelings of sympathy dissipated instantly as you came to your senses. This thing was coming toward you. Slowly, but surely.

            Compelled by some unknown force, you resisted leaving. Strangely, you felt the need to stand still and wait. “Trust” was not exactly the word you wanted to use to describe what you felt towards the monstrous being before you, but a hesitant curiosity would certainly fit the bill. How could you be sure that the thing wanted to kill you? You had no proof that it would.

            The misshapen mass of metal and exposed muscle continued to stumble forward. The closer it got, the more minute sounds you could hear coming from it. Squishing wet flicks of flesh. Grinding bits of steel, desperate for oil. The tiny workings of pneumatic systems. But worst of all, a low garbled pulse of rattling air sinking and raising with each step, which you tried in vain to not call “breath”.

            What did it want?

            And more importantly, why were you letting it come near you?

            Your heartrate picked up steadily as the rumble beneath your feet from its steps got louder and louder. The thing was so close and yet still you refused to move. Why? Were you that scared, or did you truly detect no harm?

            Two beams of precise purple light were suddenly above you. They bored into your eyes, causing your mouth to open agape at how intensely threatening and yet beautiful they were. The mixed feelings within you was confusing. You stood frozen in your bewilderment, taking in how grand and monstrous the entire thing was. He was so tall. At least a whole head taller than you, and that wasn’t even including the ears.

            Wait, he…?

            Clicking sounds interrupted your thoughts as the thing’s jaw cracked open to tap its teeth against each other once more. A hellish broken scrawl of sound erupted from its chest in some kind of attempt at speech. The creature was clearly unable to voice words.

            Was it trying to say something to you? Curiosity taking over, you raised one arm lightly with the purpose of greeting it. Would it understand if you tried to wave to it?

            As soon as your hand was in the air did the thing suddenly lash out. Barely having time to shout, you watched as the creature’s wicked claw snapped upwards at an unbelievably fast speed and clutched your hand in one swift motion. The action had taken no more than a second. It’s spindley sharp fingers grasped your hand like a spider encircling a captured fly. How could such thin steel fingers be so strong? You were stunned at how quickly the thing could move, especially after having just watched it walk toward you at a painfully slow pace. Had it done so on purpose just to trick you?

            Despite the tight hold, your hand was not being crushed. The movement had startled you, but you were not being hurt. That wasn’t to say that you were pleased with the circumstances, however. In fact, your next choice of action was to pull backward from the fierce grip. One harsh tug later and you knew you were stuck. Your attempt at greeting the creature had led to your own entrapment. You could hardly blame it for taking advantage of your own stupidity.

            The beast’s head leaned down to get closer to your face. The smell of rot and death met your nostrils and you winced. Being this close to the creature meant more details of its decrepit form could be seen. Cracks crawled through the shell of its darkened form. Bubbles of burnt material stretched across its surface in large patches. The endoskeleton metal was so worn and frail that you were unsure if you could truly call it piece of steel or if it was really discolored bone hiding under all the damage. This thing, this monster, this beast, was truly a being born of agony.

            Suddenly, its second hand was flat against your stomach and pushing you backwards. You were forced to walk backwards as it guided you with both hands. Unsure of where you were going, you tried not to think about falling into any unknown pitfalls as you locked your vision with the purple pinpricks ahead of you. There was no way you were going to try and escape now. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

            Your back hit against a solid wall and you stopped moving. The beast, however, kept going. Whether the action was purposeful or not was uncertain, but the hellish rabbit decided to tuck itself neatly into you, the wall providing a perfect opposite pressure for it to press it’s disturbed chest against you. It’s legs closed in tight on either side of your hips and it’s chin scraped against the top of your head. The thing shambled into position awkwardly, but firmly, even it’s claw seemingly purposefully pushing your hand against the wall. It was then that a strange heat flushed up to your cheeks and your fear was temporarily replaced by a queer sense of delight. What the hell was that?

            No time to think. The thing was upon you once more. It’s thin fingers were stretching outward, inadvertently scraping the wall and letting out a high-pitch as it did so. Your hand was temporarily released from its grip, but you were far from free. It’s fine wirey digits soon fell neatly in between your own and it re-settled it’s grasp against your hand, this time making a fist together with yours.

            The thing was clutching your hand and pressing it against the wall as though a lover might tenderly do so.

            Just as you were processing whether or not you were interpreting the behavior accurately, an unexpected moisture was felt near your right ear. Hot breath puffed out from the creature’s maw as it’s face drew closer to your own. Your skin prickled as you felt the heat coming off of its rotten flesh. Once again, your heart was pounding, but this time you weren’t sure if it was from panic or something else entirely.

            A fat lengthy tongue lolled out from the beast’s throat, curling up at the end. In one swift movement, the tongue, wet with saliva, connected with your skin and slid itself upward in one long drawn-out drag from your neck to your temple. The lick was deliciously slow and brought out an indescribable moan from deep within your belly. The mechanical rabbit seemed determined as it shifted its leg to a better position and lifted its knee in order to press itself up between your legs. A shiver ran through your perimeter from foot to head, compelling you to shake it off in one sharp exhale of breath.

            Mindlessly, you shot out your free hand to clutch for purchase at the rabbit’s waist. The thing was so heavily destroyed that your fingers struggled to find a place to hang onto until they finally landed against the edge of the suit’s hip edge. Your eyes fluttered closed as you focused on the pressure between your legs and imagined what all these actions could lead to.

            The creature snaked its hand from your stomach to behind your back, pulling you even closer to itself. Overwhelmed by desire, your mind let drop any previous feelings of fear and hesitancy as you let your mouth hang open. Upon closing the gap to its teeth, however, you realized your mistake. The thing had no lips for you to kiss. You retreated quickly, trying to decide how to proceed.

            The monstrous rabbit seemingly decided for you what to do. Removing its knee from between your legs, the creature shifted its position once again. It let go of your hand and moved so that both of its claws were now behind your back, nestled at the bottom of your spine and cradling you into a gentle hold. It’s tongue now inside its proper place within its jaw, the head glided next to the side of your head, lulling gently. In moments, the beast was merely holding you peacefully against the wall, tucked as close as it could be, as though content to simply exist with you.

            At first, you were unsure of what to do. Your desire was still there, but this new action was causing it to decrease slowly. You were simply holding still as the rabbit held you. Was nothing going to happen? In time, it occurred to you that perhaps the rabbit had realized that in this form, it was unable to do what it really wished to, and thus was settling for the closest it could get.

            Swept over with a sudden feeling of love and trust instead of desire, your arms wrapped around the man before you. Burying your head into his chest, you breathed into him and let your cheek rub against the rough fabric and charred remains of his being. He was nearly gone in this state of madness and decay, but he had just enough awareness to remain still, wrapped up completely with you. It was flattering, and made you feel cared for.

            I will stand here forever with you, you thought. Nothing more was needed.

            And as you stood there, sinking into the depths of profound love for this ancient and supernatural being of hatred and pain, you could have sworn you could hear him, the real him, whispering from some unknown empty place in the distance.

            I need you to listen. As I’m only going to say it once.

            I adore you.

Chapter Text

Lord Frith, what is happening?

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@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@&&&&####BGGGB#&&&&&&&@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@



I... know you? I... Who are you...?

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@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@&&#BBGPPG#&@@@&&##BBB##&&@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
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@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@&&#B####&&@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@&##BBB#&&&&@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@&&&&&&&&@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@#PP#&G5P#&&#&@@@@@@@@@@@@@@&&&&&&&&&&@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@&##&&BGG#&###&@@@@@@@@@@@&&&@&&&&&@&&&@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@&&&&@&&&@@@@@@@@@@@&&&&&&##&@&##&@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
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@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@



No. You smell of the Black Rabbit of Inlé.

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####BB##&&&&&&&B&&###B##GGPGGPBGJ5P5?7!7JGGY~~~~7YYGBBG5GGGGB&&&#&@&@@&&@@&&@&#&&&&&&@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Why can I only see you in my mind?

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I see. Are you alone?

  

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Why me?

  

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I released you.



...Purpose?


  

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Chapter Text

            He held you.

            A great mass of metal and fur above, his arms bent and curled to cradle your tired form below him. He was heavy, but the weight was not crushing. As a matter of fact, the solid pressure of the rabbit holding you was rather pleasant, all things considered. William had created a sort of pocket within his frame that your body naturally slid into. Even your legs slipped between and around his with no resistance. Between the coverage of his hips and the binding of his arms, your weary self felt an unusual state of calm. Almost as though all cares of the world around you could not penetrate through him.

            Perhaps ironically, you had never felt safer than now. In the hands of such a twisted man.

            Those same hands were currently set still against you. Gripping you and holding you in place. Their bulky shape allowing for greater coverage than when William appeared in his human form. While you had no intentions to, it was clear by his firm grasp that you were not allowed to move. He was wordlessly forcing you to rest. And for once, you were listening to his silent decree without question.

            The benefits of staying hidden beneath and within him were abundant now that you were here. Being with him in any way shape or form had always brought immense joy but being forced to rest allowed you to take in more detail of him. Small things you would never had noticed otherwise. Things that felt silly to point out, but no doubt added to the whole of why you cared for him in the first place.

            Had you ever seen that small red wire curving out of the left hole in his arm before? What about the blotchy rust spot on the inner bolt of his right elbow? Had you ever noticed the tiny whirring sound of the animatronics’ eyelids moving in place whenever he blinked? Even the soft shuddering of his chest every time he breathed (which had become a favored thing to notice about him) seemed to be appreciated more in the silence. William was mystifying and enchanting all at once. If there was ever a need to fall in love with him all over again, it would have to be done in the quietest of moments like these. When there was nothing else to do but breathe him in with every part of you.

            More had occurred today than just being aware of his presence, however. As much as you wished to be able to claim that you had done nothing but stare at him all afternoon, in all honesty, you had fallen asleep a few times just laying here with him. But that was nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, that was exactly what William wanted you to do. Snoozing was a natural part of resting. He had been actively encouraging it the entire time. It had started with encasing you with his body, and then it had turned into lulling you to sleep with small massages into your back and shoulders using one hand. Tucking your head into his own neck had been a particularly effective method. For some reason, there was nothing more comforting than feeling his jawline shove into the side of your head while your own nose was pressed as close as possible to his flesh (and metal). Something about being cradled and held tightly while being allowed to sleep felt loving in a different kind of way than usual. It was the exact opposite amount of energy needed when compared to a fast-paced passionate round of love-making. The feelings expressed were similar: Bonding, sharing, trust, and caring. This just happened to be a softer kind of love.

            You felt your hair pull slightly. William had begun to have a habit of pulling on small tufts of your hair with one hand and releasing them after a second or two. Just a small pattern of fidgeting while holding you, you supposed. Though you couldn’t help but notice that his habit of choice held an edge. Even in his most gentle of ways, William still held control. One tiny pull could at any moment turn into a sharp yank if so chosen. (Not that he ever had)

            You sucked in air deep to the bottom of your lungs before letting it out slowly between pursed lips. William responded by ceasing the hair pulling. Perhaps your change in movement had caught his attention. When you did not speak or change position, his fingers returned to your hair.

            This is so nice… you thought. I never want it to end….

            You didn’t have the energy to speak aloud. Every part of you was aching with the numbness that occurs when in-between sleep. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, let alone utter sound. There wasn’t a chance of being able to tell William how much you enjoyed his embrace. You could only hope that he would continue to stay in this position for as long as it took to let you recover.

            He must have felt your words, however. At least that’s what you told yourself. For as soon as you thought them, William pulled you closer. The rabbit mouth hovered near your ear as he nuzzled into you a bit. Your entire head bobbed to the side from being unable to push back. You felt so weak. There was nothing you could do to respond to him physically. A shame, considering you wished that he might sink his human lips into your neck. Although no sooner had you thought it, did the idea of sparking anything feel like wrong timing. You really did wish to keep resting instead. Your body just couldn’t move at all.  

            As if being suddenly summoned, a haze of sleep started to overwhelm you again. Dozily, you tried to feel for William one last time. He was right there, heavy as ever, holding you solid as a rock. With one hand at the back of your head and the other wrapped around your lower back, he held you safe and sound. Your legs were still entwined, and your heads were as close as they could get to each other.

            You were surrounded.

            You were protected.

            You were safe.

            And he loved you.

            Just sleep…

Chapter Text

                        [iMessage – Sunday 9:01am]

--Positive you don’t want me to come with?

                                    --I want to keep you separate from this.

--Alright. I’ll see you when you come home. Hope it goes well.

                        [iMessage – Sunday 12:33pm]

--How is it going?

                                    -- Not well.

--Michael?

                                    --No. He didn’t bother to show up.

--Oh. What’s happening?

                                    --Elizabeth is infuriating. She won’t be her own person.

                                        Just keeps saying things she thinks I want her to say.

--I see. And your youngest?

                                    --It’s all just fucking bullshit.

--How can I help?

                                    --Have a stiff drink ready for me when I come home.

            You were just in the middle of trying to decide what dinner would be when he returned home without warning. No text message, no phone call, just the sound of a slamming car door alerting you of his presence. You could tell by the forceful stomps leading up the patio steps that dinner would have to wait. Immediately you turned to the cabinet to reach for an emotional sedative – a stiff drink, just as he had asked.

            The front door swung open just as you were unscrewing the lid of a favored bottle. Your actions were quick, but not from nerves. You were calm, prepared as ever to face the potential wrath of the man behind you. You knew that the best ways to help support your partner in times like these were to stay calm, let him explode freely, and provide a drink when necessary. Anger was not a bad thing as long as it did not harm you.

             To your surprise, William did not enter the kitchen shouting expletives nor mumbling under his breath. He was shockingly wordless as he stormed into the room, making his way quickly up behind you. You knew better than to greet him, so you continued your work of getting his drink ready, your assumption being that he would not wish to speak with you until he had a glass in his hand. As it would turn out, William would require a very different kind of attention tonight.

            Rough fingers suddenly clamped your elbow, and you were wretched away from the counter, nearly causing you to drop the glass to the floor. You stumbled slightly, taken aback by his forceful physicality. You weren’t hurt, but you were certainly startled.

            Now facing him, you had no choice but to look directly at him. William’s eyes were dark, as though he hadn’t slept in days. His clothes were disheveled, and his expression was hard to read. There was anger, but also an unexplainable sadness. The mixture of emotions on his face was confusing. What had happened to make him so disturbingly mixed?

            And then, suddenly, his hands clutched onto your shoulders, and he was forcing you to another part of the room. You had just enough time to haphazardly toss the glass in your hand to the counter with a flick of your wrist before focusing on not tripping. He was pushing you backwards at much too fast a pace for you to keep up and certainly the perplexity of the situation was not helping.

            William slammed you into the wall. And it was then that he did something unexpected. His mouth fiercely connected with yours with an intensity you hadn’t seen in a long time. Out of the blue, he seemed desperate to press his lips into yours, his tongue darting immediately into your open mouth and wasting no time at getting what he wanted. His body shoved into yours, your back squished against the hard wall. You could hardly breathe over how close his face was to yours. His nose was practically pushed as far as it could go into your cheek.

            Meanwhile, his hands were hastily pulling at your clothes. It had hardly been ten seconds and already he was removing layers from you as though he were being timed. You weren’t stopping him, so you could hardly complain, but in all honesty the occurrence was so bewildering that you weren’t sure whether complaining was really what you wanted to do to begin with. What was going on?

            William’s passion play continued. He clawed until your clothes were gone entirely. You even helped him remove them once your mind had finally caught up to what was happening. There was no explanation for where his sudden onslaught had come from, but you weren’t going to question it now. Playing along seemed like a good idea.

            Then, William began to make noises. Little mews of pleasure. At least, that’s what you thought at first. They were small quips of grunts in between kisses and tongue twistings. But as he kept making them, the more distorted the sounds would become. They would roll between pleasure and pain, as though he couldn’t quite decide if what he was doing was enjoyable or depressing. It wasn’t until finally the sounds contorted into angry growls and William took one harsh moment to re-shove you back into the wall that you realized what was happening.

            He wanted power back.

            Your mind flooding with understanding, you let your lover bite into your shoulder as you thought of what to do. It was clear now. He needed you. But not in the way you had originally anticipated.

            Gathering strength, you breathed in deeply, and then you raised your arms behind his back to dig your nails into his jacket. Purposefully, you let out a guttural moan as soon as his teeth had sunk into your neck a second time.

            The reaction worked. As your ecstasy poured out into the air, William seemed to flow right with it. His shoulders rolled forward and matched the speed of your breath. Instantly, the both of you were tuned into the other’s rhythm. Your bodies swayed together with the release of your moan and even his bite seemed to sink into a slower, more meaningful, clench.

            But it didn’t last long. William wasn’t content with slowing down. In fact, his speed only increased after your moan. You didn’t mind this, however. Your intention wasn’t necessarily to calm the beast within him, but rather to show your support of it. “Use me”, your body said. “Get it out of your system.”

            And get it out of his system he would. Quickly, his hands lowered to his belt and in a flash his trousers were on the ground. Admittedly, you hesitated. It appeared at first that he wasn’t going to wait for you to catch up to him. But you didn’t have to worry long. As soon as his bottom half was bare did one of his hands plunge forward to grip you between the legs. The quick action made you gasp, but his fingers wasted no time to let you rest. It was clear by his hasty circling that he was impatient, but at least he was giving you somewhat of a chance at all.

            Your hips involuntarily thrusted forward into his hand after the first few seconds. William interpreted this as you being ready for him. Which wasn’t exactly true, but it was true enough given the mood. His grunts were getting more agitated and his actions sloppy. If he weren’t allowed to release soon, his frustration would escalate to something worse. You may not have been perfectly ready physiologically, but you were emotionally encouraging of his need to let it out faster than usual. This was not a passion play of the usual bonding. This was sex healing in a different manner entirely.

            William groaned as soon as he entered (you, meanwhile, winced, but braced through it). If you hadn’t known any better, you might have called his groan a sigh of relief. The deeper he pushed in, the more his body would curl forward in helplessness. He was weak as soon as he was fully in. But then the mood changed once more when he began to thrust. The familiar roll of sound between pleasure and pain returned. He grunted freely, without care, and it was clear that his interaction with you was purely selfish at this point. His hands were clenched on either side of you and his fingers were squeezing tightly into your flesh like you were nothing more than an object to destroy. His teeth grit, sweat was beading on his forehead, and the expression on his face had twisted into a furious rage. He pounded into you like he hadn’t a care in the world for anything else, and his sounds of madness filled every corner of the kitchen.

            There was nothing you could do but roll your eyes back and take it. You had accepted your role in his healing and thus you focused on feeling his energy wash over you. The pleasure was incredible (eventually), but you were admittedly more preoccupied by his emotions. It was strangely fascinating to hear the hot indignation of his breath and to know, deep down, that this reaction came from some inner anguish inside him. You would most likely never know what had happened, or where this anger came from, but that didn’t matter. What mattered now was supporting him and support him you did.

            William’s thrusts did not slow pace until he had adjusted your position against the wall to allow for easier access to you. Once that had occurred, it was only a matter of time before his deepened slides of filling you with his girth was too much to handle. His shouts of anger coiled into a single deep explosive release, and he gripped his arms against you in a tight embrace as he let it out into your shoulder.

            He nearly fell to his knees right afterward. But you snapped to attention just in time to help prop him up. He sighed, tutted a grumbled message you couldn’t hear, then let his chin rest against your shoulder. Your own breathing was labored, and your body was tired, but not nearly as much as his seemed to be. You could manage leaning against the wall and letting the both of you come down from the high slowly.

            You dared not speak first. Instead, you rubbed his back and nuzzled your head into his. If he appreciated it, he never said. But he didn’t need to.

            “I want steak,” he muttered eventually. Your lips pressed immediately together to resist your first reaction. The absurdity of the sentence made you want to laugh.

            “We can do that,” you replied once you were able to. He kissed the side of your head, this time with true meaning instead of blind wrath.

            “Would you like your drink?” you asked.

            “God, yes.”

            William peeled himself away from you then. You watched as he awkwardly removed the pants from around his ankles and tossed them aside before going to the sink to wash up. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed as you gathered your own clothing. You excused yourself and went upstairs to change and to wash up yourself. You were sure that William would follow suit but would drink the glass you had prepared for him in the kitchen first. Leaving him alone for a moment to recover seemed like the best course of action for now.

            Later, when the both of you had calmed and were dressed again, you each waited for dinner in silence. Neither of you were addressing the elephant in the room. Or two elephants, if you counted both the unknown events of what had happened with his children earlier in the day as well as the intense sexual encounter with you once he had returned home. You weren’t sure if either would be discussed. You weren’t even sure you wanted to discuss them. But the confused feeling within your stomach demanded attention, so you knew something would need to be addressed at some point.

            By the time dinner had ended and each of you were settled on the couch, enjoying your own individual activities while being together, a question entered your mind that you thought might finally fix the unsettled feeling within your stomach without technically addressing either topic directly. After a bit of hesitancy, you decided to try it.

            “William?” you asked, your eyes transfixed to the floor.

            “Hm?”  His attention was on his iPad.  

            You brought your head up to look at him.

            “Should I tell you, ‘Happy Father’s Day’?”

            William turned his head. He stared at you for a moment. You could sense a complicated mess of thoughts behind his eyes. You figured it would be a hard question to consider.

            “…Yes,” he said after a moment. His gaze stayed focused on you as he said it. Cold. Unfeeling.

            “Alright,” you said, not daring to look away from his steely expression. “Then happy Father’s Day.”

            “Thank you,” he said flatly.

            The unspoken truth that had been shared between you was obvious.

            The formalities were over.

            There was no need to speak of it again.

Chapter Text

            It had been a long day. You were in the passenger seat of his car, heading home after a three-day road trip. You both had decided to spend some time sight-seeing together, which involved a lot of driving just to get to your destination and then come back. It had been an overall short but sweet adventure. And now this was the final leg of the trip, most of it involving driving long hours all day (aside from one small pit stop for dinner). The vacation was fun, quick, and full of memories.

            Unfortunately for you, this last day was not going as you had planned.

            It had started in the morning. When you woke up, you felt low energy. Nothing in particular had happened to make you feel this way, you just didn’t feel like excitedly greeting the day with loud actions. This was no big deal. William himself hadn’t seemed to notice, so you chalked it up to just needing to wake up more. By the time lunch came around, however, your mood had dampened further. Not only that, but you found yourself not wanting to talk to Will. You’d respond if he said something to you, but beyond that you’d purposefully not engage. This was unusual and was the first red flag for you that something might be wrong.

            As the hours passed, you became more and more quiet. It got so bad that your mind started to focus in on your own silence and ignore everything else, trying in vain to root out the source of the problem. You couldn’t focus on what was happening around you because all your mind could process in the moment were questions on why you were so quiet. Was something wrong? Had William upset you somehow? Was the trip bad? Were you even upset in the first place or were you just needing space? Your mind was plagued with riddles that you couldn’t solve. No matter where you looked, you couldn’t find the answer. Nothing felt right. And what’s worse, your irritability at not being able to figure it out was starting to show.

            At dinner, William finally asked if he had done something to upset you. The fact that he had asked at all made you angry. But not at him, at yourself. So, you truthfully told him no. When you didn’t explain further, he had given you a strange look, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he occupied himself with wandering the restaurant’s gift shop and let you be. This only upset you more because you were angry at yourself for not being able to talk to him. Why couldn’t you explain what was happening to you? Why couldn’t you just tell him you were feeling quiet? Then again, how could you explain it to him when you couldn’t even explain it to yourself? Why were you so quiet to begin with? It made no sense to you.

            Now you were stuck in the car with him two hours past dinner, mute as ever and refusing to explain why, yet weirdly transfixed by the very problem you were trying to ignore. Your frustrated feelings from dinner had turned cold and now you were frozen stiff in your passenger seat, staring at the road ahead of you with a strange out-of-body possession. You felt nothing. No anger, no joy, no nothing. And yet at the same time you felt vaguely upset for inexplicably no reason at all. The silence between you and William was vast. Home was near enough to look forward to escape, but the car ride until you got there would still feel awkward. You hadn’t even thought of what you would do once you got home. Would you just go and sleep in the guest bedroom tonight in order to ignore him? Why? What was the point? Did you even need to be alone in the first place? You weren’t mad at him. This had nothing to do with him (at least, you thought so?). So, why were you upset? There was no explanation. The day had for some reason just progressed into stale air and your mood had turned sour out of the blue. You felt numb and stagnant. You were quite certain that if any conversation was attempted, you wouldn’t even be able to reply.

            Your theory was proven correct when William finally spoke up, approximately a mile from the last exit.

            “What’s wrong?” he asked. It was delivered gentle. No accusation in the slightest.

            You opened your mouth to speak but no sound came out. This lack of ability to voice anything startled you. While you had assumed that you were unable to respond beforehand, you more or less had overdramatized the feeling in your own head. You had guessed that you’d be able to respond once ‘woken from your spell’. Apparently not.

            “Did you hear me?” William questioned.

            “I… d-don’t know,” you managed to stutter in a whisper. No sooner had you spoken did your vision lock straight ahead at the road and your shoulders tensed. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to speak again after that first try.

            “What’s wrong?” William asked again. You could see out of the corner of your eye that his head had turned briefly to face you. When you didn’t respond immediately, he repeated the motion a few times as though checking to see what you were doing. Your own mind shouted at yourself to talk. Say something, do something! Anything!

            “C-can’t…” you managed to whisper. “I can’t speak.”

            William’s foot slammed on the gas as he propelled the car forward toward the exit. The new fast motion alarmed you, but there was nothing you could do about it. Your body had completely shut down. You knew why he had sped up suddenly and you were torn on how to feel about it. Part of you was grateful, the other part was ashamed.

            The car turned right (home was to the left) and William pulled into a random parking lot. The businesses were closed, this being nighttime after all, so no one was around. You were alone as he shifted the gear to stop the car in place.

            William twisted in his seat to face you. You couldn’t bear to look at him. Your skin was crawling with shame. Not that you could have looked at him anyway. Every part of you was trapped, as though paralyzed by some unknown fear.

            Just leave me be… you thought.  Just go away… Don’t look at me…

            “What’s going on?” William asked. “Why can’t you speak?”

            “I don’t… know,” you strained to whisper. “I’m… confused… I can’t… speak.” Every word took great effort to say. Your jaw resisted opening the mouth to form syllables. You practically had to hiss the words at him just to get them out.

            William said nothing. His silence was almost worse. You didn’t know what to do and you couldn’t get out of your freeze. You were completely stuck. Would he be angry with you?

            And then you heard him lean forward in his seat.

            And his hand found yours.

            The unexpected gesture cracked your frozen shell. His fingers slipped in against the edge of your palm with delicate precision and his wrist hung loosely so as not to disturb your locked position. The hold was so gentle, so innocent. A pure expression of silent support.

            Tears welled in your eyes before pouring into rivers down your cheeks. The feeling of his hand was so incredibly loving, and yet the action had caused more confusion as well. Why was he doing this? Why was he being patient and loving when you were causing a scene? Did he not see that he was encouraging your bad behavior?

            “I’m being… a baby,” you said pathetically through your tears. “Just… leave me be.” The strain in your voice was still there. Quiet. Insulting. You were still trapped.

            “Don’t tell me what to do,” he replied matter-of-factly, without meanness. Such a line would normally be delivered in a snappy manner. It was strange to hear him say it so calmly. “I’m here,” he added. “What do you need?”

            More confusion. What did he mean? Why wasn’t he angry?

            “I don’t know,” you quavered. “I don’t know, I don’t know what’s going on.” You were muttering. Dazed. Delirious. “I don’t want to talk,” you whispered suddenly in a mystified manner, as though you were confused over why you wanted to say that in the first place.

            “When did it start?” he questioned patiently.

            “All day,” you answered, finding it strange that you were able to respond so readily. “It’s gotten worse over time.”

            “Did I upset you?” William asked.

            “No,” you breathed.

            “What are you feeling?”

            “I feel…” you trailed off, blinking at the road in front of you. “Stupid. I feel scared.”

            “Of what?”

            “I don’t… know.”

            There was a pause.

            “Are you scared of me?” William queried. For once, he did not ask it with a tone that reflected desire.

            Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized your answer.

            “…Yes,” you said in amazement, as though realizing this truth for the first time. Which was indeed what had happened.

            “Why?”

            Your head twitched as you continued to stare ahead. Why indeed? You couldn’t figure it out in your own mind. Under normal circumstances, you might have been able to say things like his animatronic form had scared you, or his anger, or his manipulative behavior, or anything similar for a logical answer. But you didn’t feel any of those things were the right answer, let alone something you felt in the first place.

            “I don’t know,” you said in utter confusion. Your awareness was then brought to his hand, and you became befuddled over its existence within yours. It was so warm. So perfectly placed in your palm. What was it doing there?

            “…Why are you holding my hand?” You asked.

            William snorted. “Why wouldn’t I?”

            “I…” you started to say, but the words couldn’t form. Instead, tears formed again in your eyes. A great swelling of emotion ballooned deep in your belly and floated up into your throat, threatening to expel. Your body fidgeted in discomfort until finally, you choked, and your lips parted into a distorted open-mouthed grimace. Suddenly, painful words were tumbling out of you like uncontrolled rolling water. Out of nowhere. From some unknown place inside you.

            “I’m being… a brat!” you cried. “I’m upset! I… I ruined the day!” Your words fell in heavy drops, splashing into the car like toxin from your stomach. “It was supposed to be a trip together. To have fun together. We even saw animatronics that I thought you might enjoy looking at. I wanted you to enjoy it. But I was just… off. All day. Wouldn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. Indifferent about things we saw. Irritable. I kept trying to figure out why. I kept asking myself over and over, ‘What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Why are you upset?’ and I couldn’t figure it out. I felt so stupid. I felt so far away and lost. It just got worse and worse. And it ruined the day. I made it all about myself and my problems. And I couldn’t even speak of it. I just sat there like a baby and ruined it. I feel so stupid. I’m so stupid.”

            Your crying began to turn into wails. And then to sobs. William said nothing, merely listening to you while letting your poisonous words continue to drip.

            “…And here you are now…” you started up again, heaving from your tears and bitter in your spitting. “…holding my hand. I’ve ruined the day and you’re not even mad. You’re just holding my hand. So lovingly… and I don’t deserve it. I shouldn’t be treated this way. I’m confused by it. And I’m confused why I want it at the same time. I love holding your hand. I want you to keep holding my hand. God, I love holding your hand. And yet you’re not scolding me. Not yelling at me. Not hitting me. Why aren’t you hitting me? Why aren’t you scolding me? Why are you holding my hand?”

            Silence. Your words drifted out the last of your pent-up emotion and crashed into the car’s interior. It was then that you realized you were staring at him. You couldn’t remember when you had turned to look in his direction. When had you been able to move your neck? It didn’t matter. Now you were staring at him, and his gaze was locked on yours.

            His expression was unreadable. You could tell by his eyes that the gears were turning steadily behind them, but what he was processing specifically was unknown. All you did know, was that your tears were now dropping off the bottom of your jaw onto the car seat. You could hear the little pitter patter as they landed. That didn’t matter either. You were in too much pain to do anything but mentally beg for him to be angry at you.

            But he wasn’t. Instead, William said one clear, calm, sentence.

            “I want you to think very hard about why my giving you love and support would confuse you.”

            A twinge was felt in your heart, followed by a spark in some faraway place in your head. You couldn’t place what had just happened. Something had shifted in some small way, but presently you just felt more confused. His sentence felt important, but you couldn’t explain why. When you tried to think of what to say to him, your mind turned blank.

            William seemed to catch on that you were stuck.

            “You’re making some assumptions about how I feel,” he began after a moment. “You didn’t ruin the day. At dinner, I asked if you were upset with me, and you said no. So, I dropped any concern I had. You were quiet, I could tell. But you did not ruin the day.”

            “I don’t understand,” you told him. “I made it all about me.”

            “No, you didn’t,” he argued. “You did not throw a tantrum. You did not prevent me from enjoying the sights. You let me know that it wasn’t about me and that’s all that was needed. You did not ask me to pull the car over. I did that on my own. You did not want to talk to me. I pushed you into it. Maybe you just needed to be alone. I certainly have days like that, as you know. In those cases, you just leave me be and respect my need for privacy. No big deal.”

            You gawked at him. Anger instantly flashed up your face, but it was quickly replaced with uncertainty. You wanted so badly for him to just yell at you. Why wasn’t he yelling at you?

            “Why are you being so nice to me?” you lamented through your bewilderment. “Why are you doing this?”

            “Why would I not?” William asked innocently, a tilt of his head expressing that he truly did not understand your concern.

            “Because… you…” but you couldn’t finish your sentence. The truth had caught in your throat. You looked away from him, too overwhelmed by the shame of your feelings to face him. I’m being a brat… I’m being a baby... I’m making a fuss…

            …You’re William Afton…

            Out of the blue, his firm hand squeezed yours. The tightness was encouraging. His blatant support caused fresh tears to form and fall again.

            “Finish your sentence,” he commanded. “Say it.”

            Your breath hitched. You nearly hiccupped but forced it back and sputtered through your tears. “You’re William Afton. And I’m making a fuss.”

            You expected his hand to waver. To pull away in disgust or annoyance. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. In fact, you braced for the pain of it. So sure were you that he would be angry with your admittance.

            But William did not move his hand. Not a single muscle. And even more surprising was his response, which was not full of anger in the slightest.

            “Who told you your feelings didn’t matter?” he asked.

            Your eyes blinked. “What?” you said.

            “Who scolded you for having an opinion? Who told you to be quiet?”

            Memories flooded into your system with a shock. Old memories that you hadn’t thought of in a long time. A single name appeared amongst them; one you did not wish to speak out loud. You trembled for a moment. Until suddenly you stared forward, your mind going blank again. The tears stopped falling and your feelings went numb once more.

            “Have you ever been hit?” William asked.

            “No,” you answered honestly. You felt cold.

            “Are you sure?” he persisted.

            “Well, I… I guess I don’t know for certain,” you admitted. “But I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I have not been.”

            “But you were emotionally abused?” he specified.

            The headlights from the car shone onto the dark concrete ahead of you in a dim manner. Your eyes searched through the cracks in the pavement as old memories resurfaced to the front of your mind.

            “…Yes,” you whispered eventually. “Yes, I think I was. I remember… being told my feelings were not that bad. I remember whenever I said I was afraid, I was told that I couldn’t possibly know what it was like to be afraid compared to their own fear. If I was upset, I was being a baby and needed to get over it. If I had an opinion, and it differed from theirs, it was wrong or needed adjustment. If I shared something I was proud of, it was nitpicked. If I shared joy, they judged me for it. If I shared pain, it was downplayed. Nothing I did was right. I lost either way. I learned to shut down because it was the only thing I could do to not get in trouble.”

            Your eyes soaked in the headlight beams as your story filled the space. The parking lot was so wide, so empty. The surrounding area felt exposing, despite being in the safety of his car at night.

            You could tell William had been watching you carefully as you had talked. His attention was on you completely. Admittedly, your mind was more focused on your own words than appreciating his reaction to them, but perhaps that was how it was supposed to be.

            “Am I wrong, then,” William quietly offered after a few moments of respectful silence had passed. “In saying that being met with genuine love and support is confusing because you’re not used to it?”

            You couldn’t move your head away from the concrete. “Maybe… But…” Your voice trailed off and your eyes lifted to stare at the dark buildings in the distance.

            “But what?” he asked.

            “You’re…” you glanced awkwardly in his direction before settling your gaze on the dashboard guiltily. “You’re William Afton…”

            An intake of breath came from your left. His hand did not release yours, but it shifted a bit as William adjusted his position in his seat. A pang of remorse shot through your heart as you waited for his response. Surely, what you had said was insulting. You imagined that his movement came from discomfort at your words.

            “Do you take me for a mere one-dimensional character?” he asked in an even tone. “Am I not a man with feelings and motives and goals of my own? Are you so stuck on the violent actions of my story – this “serial killer aspect” – that you cannot see the capacity for anything more? Do you believe that I am incapable of enacting mercy? Is a man not entitled to feel all things of nature, be they joy, sadness, anger, fear, love, or yes, sometimes violence? It is true that I am a monster. But I am also a man. And I am entitled to whatever the hell I choose to pursue. Right now, I choose to pursue listening to you. I choose to hold your hand. And I choose to talk you through this. I’ve done terrible things, yes. But I’ve done good things, too. You just never hear of the good ones. Good deeds don’t make the headlines.”

            Tears bubbled up at his words. Wells of salt-filled liquid burned down your cheeks and hung in heaviness at the bottom of your face. He had an answer for everything. He always did. This answer just so happened to have struck you deep to your core.

            Your shoulders curled inward as the familiar bounce of sorrow threatened to disturb your steady breathing lungs for another time. Sure enough, as your expression slowly contorted into a painful bout of creasing, a soft whine exhaled from your chest and your already-hurting diaphragm shuddered in distress. Like a child, mournful wails cracked through the numbness of your confusion, and you fell into hard crying. William’s words had broken you completely.

            “I d-don’t deserve y-you!” you sobbed. Your free hand snapped up to cover your eyes instinctively. Meanwhile, William’s gripped onto your other hand fiercely and he scoffed.

            “Well, I deserve the best,” he retorted. “And that’s what I’ve got.”

            “Y-you have p-pretty low s-standards,” you spat shakily.

            “You don’t get to speak on my standards,” he shot back firmly.

            You choked, half-laughing at his stern reply. He was so supportive and yet threatening at the same time. How the hell did he always do that?

            “I hate you,” you sputtered through your tears in earnest. “And I love you so much.”

            He squeezed your hand once.

            “I love you, too,” he said. “Now, how are you feeling?”

            Your sobs started to slow. Your breathing was turning into that awkward juttering of hiccups. Emotionally, you were finally starting to calm, but your body was still trying to calm from the huge upset.

            “I don’t know,” you said. “Hurting. Scared. Lost. I love you. But I’m afraid.”

            “Can you move?” he asked.

            “No,” you said.

            “Alright. Then I tell you what,” he started. “How about I drive us home, we bring our bags in, we change into something more comfortable, and then we get into bed, and we keep talking about this while I hold you?”

            A great sigh let out of you after hearing his suggestion. You squeezed his hand tightly and focused on how warm it felt. “Yes…” you said after a moment. “I’d like that.”

            He returned the gesture, then released your fingers to put both hands on the steering wheel. As the car started out of the parking lot, you felt speechless and raw. You were physically spent and emotionally exhausted. The idea of being held once you were home felt relieving. Home, in your bed, with the man beside you.

            Half-dazed, your head drifted to the side so that you could peek at William from behind your protective fingers. He was faced forward, completely focused on driving. He looked determined, but his eyes were dark, as though tonight’s conversation had given plenty for him to contemplate. You frowned at the idea that perhaps you had caused him to worry, but you shook the thought aside when you remembered his words. It was then that you decided tonight would be the last time you ever questioned his true intent or feelings for you. He had proven his commitment relentlessly, no matter how many times you fell into depression or distrust. You owed it to him now to believe him fully, and to not second-guess his reasoning in doing so. He loved you. And that was that.

            Your head rolled back to the right, and you watched him drive. The headlight beams bounced over the road steadily. In a few minutes, you were able to lower your hand from your forehead.

            Soon, you would home.

            In bed.

            In his loving arms.

            Shaken, but supported.

            As always.

Chapter Text

            You awoke wearily, your eyelids resisting motion as though having to be gently coaxed into working. A dark sideways room greeted you once they opened, the space lit only by moonlight pouring through one window. Shadows of a heavy blue hue cut sharp thick lines out across the floor and up the walls, creating an eerie yet serene atmosphere. The awareness of where you were came over you slowly, like a hazy warm fog in fall.

            This was the bedroom. And you had just been asleep.

            Judging by the dimness of night, it was not yet morning. You didn’t want to bother checking the clock, so you just assumed it must read three or four. Though, did it matter? You’d have to go back to sleep either way. Your mind tried to calculate if it was worth it to do so. Should you just get up at this point? What was today’s plans again?

            The sound of a sigh let out behind you. A man was there. Suddenly, you realized there were arms around you. In fact, they had been there the whole time, you were just too dazed to notice. The man was spooning you; he had been spooning you the entire night.

            The sheets shifted slightly from his legs moving. Quickly catching up to what was happening, the cloud of sleep finally lifted from your brain. You remembered what had led to where you were now and why the feeling of his arms had startled you.

            Last night had been the return from a road trip of your most recent vacation with William. The trip had ended in a rather large emotional spillage that then led to a night of deep conversation at home. All things considered; the event resulted positively as it had led to an extra layer of security between the both of you. Although, really, an evening of crying was not exactly your preferred choice of relationship bonding. Most assuredly, you would have chosen the vacation to go as originally planned.

            But here you were. At three or four in the morning, with the man who loved you behind you, lying in bed together.

            His choice of holding you while sleeping was unusual. While it was ordinary in general for him to spoon you, usually after a few minutes of it at bedtime, both of you would get too hot from it and would eventually separate to sleep uninterrupted. For some reason, tonight, he had purposefully chosen to stay connected. Perhaps he was showing additional support to you after a night of difficult memory-related realizations.

            Though if you asked him, you were positive he would say that he was merely trapping you. That was always his way.

            A smile spread across your face. Desiring to feel him, your hands snaked their way up the sheets in order to clutch against the middle of his arms. You didn’t want to wake him, so your fingers tried delicately to hang onto him without much pressure. His arms were solid and smooth. There was hair, but not overly so. Perhaps it was strange to say, but they felt so much like… a man. Human. Whole. You had spent so much time with a different, broken, form of him that it felt strange to experience him in totality—that is, without metal and of full flesh. He was so warm in comparison. You could feel the veins and muscle below his skin. It was just… him.

            Your thoughts turned to considering how little of him there was in his Springtrap form. In terms of flesh, he had scarcely enough to stretch and coil around the entire metal endoskeleton. This point highlighted in the past by William himself when he had previously joked that you were a mechaphile. You had tried to defend yourself against the tease, but it was hard to argue.

            “Ah, yes, a mangled bloodied strip of flesh wrapped in metallic silver… and one perfectly intact penis”, he had mocked. You had laughed and hit him at the time, but lying here now, you were reminded of that old saying about a boat being slowly replaced board by board over time. How much of William would need to be removed before it wasn’t William anymore?

            You nearly jumped when he suddenly spoke behind you.

            “What are you doing up?” he asked, having not moved an inch from where he was.

            “Oh!” you said, your fingers sub-consciously tightening against his arm from the brief bit of fright. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

            “I’ve been awake,” he replied. You wondered if the shift in the blankets you had heard before was him waking up or not.

            “Oh, okay,” you said. “I woke up just a little bit ago.”

            “You alright?” he asked. This question struck you odd at first, but then you remembered last night’s situation.

            “Yes. Just woke up randomly.”

            William’s head leaned forward to better settle into your hair. When he spoke next, his words were slightly muffled due to his lips resting right up against you. “What were you thinking about?”

            Your fingers adjusted their placement against his arms. Now that he was awake, you could feel them better with added pressure.

            “You,” you replied. “The fanfic. I re-read it recently.”

            “Did you?” he said.

            “Yes. I almost never do. I normally just post and run. I never look back, never edit it, just move forward with whatever I’m meant to learn next. But for some reason, I decided to go back and read it entirely. Some of it I just skimmed. But I read enough of it to feel weird about it.”

            Your head felt funny with William’s mouth pressed against it. When he spoke, your hair would shift in rhythm.

            “What’s weird about it?”

            “Looking back at an old version of me,” you answered. “I can’t relate to the first half of it anymore. I read it and sort of laughed about it. I was so scared. So unsure of anything. I had no idea what I was doing. You were so patient through all of it, too. I don’t know how you put up with such a crybaby.”

            You could tell from the way your hair moved that he had grinned at your words, but he said nothing. When you could tell he had no intention to reply, you continued with your thought process.

            “The weirdest thing, though,” you started to say. “Is how stark the change is after chapter twenty-six. That’s the one where you propose. I never noticed that that’s where you start to appear human more often. Not only that, but I notice a change in my behavior as well. More serious, less afraid. More trusting. Isn’t that interesting?”

            “Vulnerability,” William said simply.

            Your head turned to the left in an attempt to look back at him, but your eyes just looked up at the ceiling. “What do you mean?” you asked.

            “Think about it,” he explained. “You had less to fear after I committed. It was proof that I didn’t intend on leaving. Plus, the animatronic form is a sort of ‘mask’ to hide behind. I was still there, of course, but I was hidden underneath. You needed to have the strength to face the real unshielded version of me. It took time, trust, and proof of commitment to remove the mask.”

            A heavy sinking feeling burrowed into your chest. It felt as though your entire body had just sunk two inches into the mattress, burdened with your shame. What he had said made sense, the truth of it just made you feel awful.

            “I don’t… like that,” you admitted, frowning. You were never one to believe that it required marriage for a relationship to work. The idea that you needed promised commitment from him to assuage your own silly fears made you feel guilty.

            “It’s what your journey needed,” he stated. “You have to admit, it worked.”

            You couldn’t argue that. “It did…” you said quietly. Your chin seemed to duck further into your chest as your nails dug into your lover’s arms. Stuck thinking hard, you began to play with lightly scratching his skin. The lazy back and forth motion seemed to help you process.

            It was true that you were leaning more into being content with the human version of him. In fact, if you were being completely honest with yourself, it was starting to become your favorite version of him, but it wasn’t until just now that you were admitting that. There was just something oddly intimate about being with him in this way. A good intimacy. A healthy one. It was like all your learning had led up to being able to be with him like this. To face the fear and the challenge of your healing straight-on.

            Fueled by a sudden twinge of bravery and wanting to prove yourself, you let go of William’s arms and began to twist around in the sheets. William’s head pulled back, and his arms released you to better help your movement. Once you were facing him, you cuddled up into him as close as you could, tucking your head up under his chin. He accepted your embrace, re-wrapping his arms around your back and leaning his cheek into you.

            Feeling him felt important. Taking note of the unquestionably human aspect of him. The roundness of his shoulders. The subtle give of his skin when you pressed into him. The smell of his neck. The lack of sturdy metal. The genuine meat of him. Two humans, locked together by choice. Two partners of equal measure.

            Wait.

            Your natural thought process made you want to move. Pushing away from him, you pulled yourself up higher in the bed, out from his neck and above close to his face. When you were at equal height with him, you tilted your head forward until both of your foreheads were touching. Realizing what you were doing, William matched your body positioning and once again adjusted his arms as necessary. Now you were both truly equal. Head-to-head, arm in arm.

            After a few seconds of silence, William whispered to you.

            “Have you figured out my ulterior motive in all of this yet?”

            You froze. His question, delivered so calmly, was unexpected. What kind of set up was this? He never gave away anything, so why would he do so now?

            The barest of smiles tugged at the corner of your lips. The fact that he had asked it so casually threw you off. But perhaps that’s exactly why he did it. He so loved tripping you up. Regardless of whether or not you fell, should you answer him seriously or tease him?  

            You decided to be coy.

            “Perhaps…” you whispered back. Voicing anything to his face directly like this felt devious. Both of you were so quiet and so close. The entire affair felt mischievous.

            William’s response was barely above a whisper. A chilling velvety murmur. Enticing, yet forbidding.

            “To carry you into death, like a bride over the threshold.”

            A cold shiver entered your heart and seemed to stop it. Alarmed, you held your breath and tightened your squeeze against him. The awareness that he was barely millimeters from you was sudden and frightening. He was so still, and yet his words had carried such a weight to them that it felt like he was pressing into you. Were you a fragile thing, you might have started to tremble.

            But shake you did not. Despite not knowing whether his words were a true threat or not, they would only be a threat if you were a lamb in his wolf-like arms. You were not a lamb. You were his equal. And as such, his words could just as easily be interpreted as a devilish way of saying he looked forward to growing old together.

            Having determined to face him as an adversary, you decided to play back at him.

            “You’ll have to wait a long time to do that, then,” you whispered. His response was quick.

            “I believe I’ve already proven that I can play the long game.”

            It was true. Thirty years behind a wall is a very long time to wait for anything. But you weren’t going to back down from your teasing.

            “To hunt me every day until I am old, and grey seems hardly worth it,” you pointed out, a smile starting to cheekily spread against your teeth.

            “Not every hunt leads to a kill, but it’s the sport of it that’s fun,” he replied.

            The ice that had previously filled your heart cracked through and a laugh broke out of you. His wit and charm had clearly outmatched you. As always, you were fine with this. It was a delightful game you loved to play with him.

            Calming from your short laugh, you leaned back so that you could stare at him. In the darkness, his face was almost muddy in your vision, but you could make out the basic shapes. His hair had fallen over his forehead in a messy manner and his expression was serene. His eyes were closed, but then they opened as you kept staring. You looked between them for a moment, lost in appreciating the ability to gaze without fear or shyness. Caught up in your love for him, you decided to speak your mind.

            “I don’t know what I did to be lucky enough to be with you.”

            William stared at you, the faintest flicker of a smile resting on the line of his mouth. After a moment of seemingly letting your words sink in, he replied.

            “I like your hair.”

            Guffawing at him, you laughed again before gripping his shirt and bonking your forehead into his in an annoyed manner. You growled at him, then pulled back just enough to let your head fall in line with his mouth to kiss him. His lips pushed into yours with genuine want, his body seeming to drop the cold act as he pulled you into him. You stayed fastened to him for a while, both of you seeming to enjoy the moment and letting the kiss turn into a bit of prolonged lust.

            Eventually, William pulled away to breathe. He stayed close, letting his nose rest against the side of yours. His eyelashes brushed against yours. Your hands danced between gripping the fabric of his shirt and feeling his torso beneath it.

            “Perhaps a bit of fun is in order,” he suggested.

            This surprised you. While the moment had clearly offered an opportunity, it was late. After such an emotional day, you would have thought proper rest was in order. Although, the more you thought about it, a sexual release did sound like a rather pleasant way to recover.

            “I’d like that,” you whispered into him.

            “Then again, maybe I’m not in the mood,” he said, shifting gears entirely.

            “Oh, alright,” you replied, trying fast to kill the rising fever within you. “That’s okay.” You didn’t want to make him feel bad if he could not deliver.

            There was a pause, then William’s head shifted down a bit, almost downcast.

            “…I was rather looking forward to you whining,” he admitted.

            You perked up, realizing what he wanted.

            “Oh!” you blurted. “Oh, wait! Hold on! Ask me again!”

            “Perhaps a bit of fun is in order,” he repeated in the same manner as before.

            “I’d like that,” you replied.

            “Maybe we shouldn’t,” he said.

            You inhaled and tilted your head back, gripping his shirt and trying to channel the softest of howls.

            “Nooooooo!”

            A hearty chuckle erupted from the man in front of you. He was snickering at you, but there was an underlying feeling of honest enjoyment.

            “That poor performance rather killed the mood,” he laughed.

            You startled at his response.

            “What?!” you exclaimed, heartbroken and hurt.

            “AH-HA!” He rejoiced, his claws digging into your back. “That’s what I was looking for!!” He hungrily lunged for your neck and clamped his teeth into your throat, his grin obviously wide from the feel of it.

            Chirping with merry screeches, you tried in vain to push him away, all the while verbally chastising his trickery. He laughed at you as you playfully attempted to squirm away from him. He continued to chase you around the bed as you scrambled to avoid his hands, the sheets tangling as you did so.

            The room was filled with shared joy as your game of cat and mouse inevitably turned into consented coiling. In the silence of the house, your grunts, mews, sharp breaths, and name-calling was the only sound. It wasn’t until each of you had passionately released and come down from your hyped-up ecstasy that you both realized the sun was just starting to show on the horizon.

            Winded and sweaty, you laid against him with newfound exhaustion. You couldn’t believe you had had the energy for that given how little sleep you were running on. Then again, the same could be said for him.

            Taking in a deep breath and letting it out, you looked up at your lover to see what he was doing. William’s hair was even messier than it already was before, and his expression was weary. Staring at him now, you started to think about how much effort he had put into the both of you in the last 24 hours. Not only supporting you emotionally through your trauma response, but holding you while you slept, and now staying awake to have a recovery-based sexual encounter. Surely, he’d say it was all selfish, but you recognized the amount of exertion that he was putting into you.

            One of your hands lifted to lie flat on his chest.

            “Thank you,” you said.

            His eyes glanced over at you briefly before settling straight ahead of him.

            “You’re welcome,” he replied.

            “I don’t want to get up yet,” you added.

            “Oh, I’m not moving anytime soon,” he remarked seriously.

            “Good,” you said with a smile before tucking your head into his shoulder.

            The morning could wait. For now, you simply wished to sleep beside him. And sleep, the both of you, did.

            I love you truly, you know.

            I know.

            It’s hard to only know you like this.

            The price of love is loss. You love your cat, your dog, your partner, your family, all knowing they will die someday. I cannot die. But the price of that is I’m not physically here.

            Maybe one day I’ll know you outside of this realm.

            You will. When I carry you like a bride over the threshold.

Chapter Text

            William was in a strange mood.

            You had first noticed a change in his behavior that morning, during breakfast. He had seemed distant, lost in thought. He kept staring at the wall or floor with a gaze that felt far away. If you spoke to him, he’d seemed to jolt awake as though having fallen asleep. At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it. It was common for William to get this way whenever he was plotting a new idea or project, so you assumed this was just another case of artistic musing. Given that under those circumstances, he’d normally do this for a while until finally shutting himself into his office for most, if not all, of the day, you decided to leave him alone on the matter. All you had to do was wait.

            The early afternoon, however, brought new behavior. Not only did he not retire to his room early, but his mood had slowly morphed from being simply distracted to severely disgruntled. As a result, his temper and patience had shortened so significantly that the slightest thing would set him off. Even something as simple as his phone autocorrecting to the wrong word would send him into a slurry of swears and frenzied hand motions. It was at this point you could tell that either he hadn’t slept well, or something was bothering him. Either way, you were careful not to set him off and gave him plenty of space to lash out appropriately.

            If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were tempted to say that his behavior felt similar to pouting. His reactions to things were admittedly, dare you say it, akin to whining. But you weren’t completely sure on that. Without knowing the context of his upset, it was hard to say.

            Regardless of what was going on, William’s temper eventually settled into “less than irritable”. Like a simmering pot of water, he held an air of potential boiling over, but there seemed to be a new layer of emotion. This time, one of melancholy. He began to display acts of random kindness to you that felt out of character for him. Little things, like brushing his hand against your arm as he walked by or going out of his way to take your empty cup to the sink. If you tilted your head at him during these moments, he would scowl and avoid you for a while. His entire mood was a balancing act between anger and bittersweetness.

            After half an hour of this behavior, you eventually found him standing at the kitchen sink with crossed arms staring out the window in a miasma of thick brooding. You had decided to gently ask him then if he needed anything. Surprisingly, he had not reacted with anger. Instead, he had responded with a sullen quiet attitude.

            “I think I just need to be left alone for a while,” he had replied. “Maybe I’ll lay down.”

            To which he did. It was the first sensible thing he had said all day. Satisfied with his healthy decision, you carried about your business while he napped and hoped that he would feel better after a rest.

            It wasn’t until two hours later, when a shape caught your eye out the living room window, that you realized William was awake. Somehow, he must have woken up without you knowing and snuck past you to sit outside. Because there he was, sitting on the patio seemingly doing nothing.

            Alerted, but again not wanting to assume anything, you decided it was time to approach him. Perhaps his nap had healed whatever was on his mind? Wishful thinking, maybe.

            Not wanting to overthink his avoidance of you, you stopped what you were doing and went outside to greet him.

            William was sitting in one of the patio chairs, staring fixedly ahead of him, with a blank expression.  Holding a cigarette in one hand, his wrist was hung loose over the chair’s arm. His posture was relaxed, but his hard gaze reflected concentration. It felt obvious to you that the nap had not helped. What was he thinking about?

            “William,” you announced softly, stepping forward. You hovered near the chair next to him but purposefully did not sit down, wanting to give him the option of telling you to go away if that’s what he chose. “Do you want to talk about it?”

            He said nothing for a moment. Then he glanced downward and flicked his wrist toward the chair beside you. Good.

            You sat down and turned in the seat to better face him. Putting all your focus on him, you clasped your hands in your lap and then started the conversation.

            “What happened?”

            William blinked at the grass and trees in the front yard. His anger had seemingly diffused, but there was still a lingering presence of it. He looked glum, with his furrowed brow and frown. When he lifted his hand to inhale the cigarette stick in it one final time before tapping it on the ash tray next to you both, you took this as a sign that he was preparing himself for something hard to discuss.

            “I don’t like how my story is being told,” he said after a moment. The words were stated in an annoyed manner.

            You stared at him. Story… What did he mean?

            “Your story?” you asked.

            “They’re making decisions,” he explained. “Decisions that will cause change. Changes that will affect everything.”

            You paused, processing what he was saying. Unfortunately, none of it was making sense to you.

            “I’m not following,” you said. “Which story?”

            “My life,” he replied. “My life’s story. It’s not fiction to me. What if they make changes that I disagree with?”

            Oh. Now you understood what he meant. His story. The one still being written.

            “Oh, I see,” you said. “Are you worried they will get your story wrong?”

            He sneered at your question.

            “Yes,” he hissed. “They’re going to represent me incorrectly. They’re going to make changes that I won’t like. It won’t be my story. They’re going to get information about my life wrong, and it will look like I’m not accurate.” He paused a moment, turning to look at you with a disgusted expression. “I don’t like looking like an idiot,” he spat.

            Ah. An idiot. Yes, of course, he’d feel this way. You should have guessed sooner that he would need to process the recent announcements in his own way. No wonder he’d been sulking all day. A small part of you felt guilty that you hadn’t considered how he’d feel about them, but then again this had never happened before in the time you were together. This was new for both of you.

            “I’m sorry,” you said. “That sounds uncomfortable to have to face. I wouldn’t want my life to be written without my approval either.”

            William looked to the ash tray in an agitated manner, making to move as though he would reach for a cigarette that ended up not being there. When he discovered nothing could be taken, he changed his mind and returned fully to his seat, looking ahead at the front lawn with a glower.

            “You’re not an idiot,” you offered. “You’re very clever. You’ve always come off to me as extremely intelligent.”

            He scoffed.

            “I don’t know how you’ll feel about me when the changes come,” he specified begrudgingly.

            You blinked. What on earth…? Where had that come from? Now you were back to being confused again.

            “What do you mean?” you questioned.

            William’s words turned accusatory. “What if the changes occur and you don’t feel the same way about me anymore? Are you just going to leave when someone else comes along?”

            Oh…

            The gears turned in your mind as your eyes drifted to the wooden slats below your feet. You wanted to jump to defend yourself, but you understood his concern and thus wanted to properly think. The truth was that it was normal for people to learn, grow, and move on. Changing interests was normal, especially when it came to media. It already made sense for him to be upset with his story being seemingly out of his own hands, but to be wrapped up in a separate story entirely, written by a different author, where romantic notions were also involved… it was complicated.

            “I don’t like sharing my toys,” he added savagely when you didn’t reply right away. You lifted your head to see him looking at you with a wrathful visage. His gaze pierced into you with purposeful intimidation. The strange dichotomy of what was happening was not lost on you. He was clearly angry and attempting to control you, but the meaning of his words revealed weakness.

            Sure enough, the closer you looked at his face, the more you could see the hint of watery eyes. A pang of regret hit your heart. Had you done this to him? No… No, he had agreed. You both entered this willingly. There was just a painful truth to this type of existence.

            What could you say to him?

            After another moment or two of pondering, you finally spoke up.

            “Will, I love you,” you started with calmly. “That will never change. I can’t speak for the future in terms of whether or not someone enters my life--Physical or not. But I have already thought about what I would do if that ever happened. They would have to know about you. They would have to accept that you are part of my life. I could not be with someone who didn’t know about you and also respect that. I would have to have both. I would not be willing or able to let you go.”

            William was quick to reply.

            “And if you change? What if you become blindsided by new feelings? You have a tendency to become fixated on whatever is in front of you. Am I just going to be left ignored? There, but at a distance?” His hand formed a fist, and he slammed it down on the chair arm forcefully. His next words were louder, practically shouted. “I will not be ignored! I will not be behind a wall again! I refuse!”

            You nodded, unperturbed by his anger and understanding in his feelings.

            “You will not be behind a wall, Will. Look at my life. You are incorporated into it in every way. Be it in this written form or whispering to me outside of it, you are there. In everything I do. There are days where you leave on business. There are days where I am busy. There are also days where we spend them entirely together. I like it that way. It is balanced and pleasant. When we are gone from each other, we come back with stories about what we were up to and catch up as if no time passed at all. Why would a new person or thing entering my life change things between us? Would we not just add it into the fold of things to balance between?”

            William processed your thoughts. He looked as though he couldn’t question what you were saying, but he was still trying hard to think of how to respond. Eventually, he muttered a single sentence.

            “…I like when you tell me your stories.”

            You smiled.

            “And I like when you tell me yours,” you agreed. “You are part of my life, Will. Through sickness and health. It’s a strange circumstance, but it is what it is. You have helped me heal in so many ways. I am not willing to let go of something that has changed my life so significantly for the better. You are a package deal with me. Separate and private, but part of my life regardless.”

            William was silent. Pondering. His head had tilted ever so slightly while listening to you, and he was watching you now with a critical look. Perhaps he was trying to decide if he should believe you. That or else he had to decide how to respond himself.

            “Do you believe me?” you asked, wanting to address any concerns right away if there were any.

            William’s head and shoulders straightened. The edge of tears was gone in his eyes. He was still vaguely irritated, but at least he didn’t seem caught up in demanding control.

            “Yes,” he stated firmly. You nodded.

            “As for your story…” you began to say. “Only you know the truth of it. You refuse to tell anyone what really happened, so how could anyone truly write it accurately? And even if they knew the truth, what someone else says about your life doesn’t change your reality. New information will always come. Your story is constantly being debated. There will never be one answer and people will always get it wrong or interpret it differently. That is just the nature of it. There is no choice but to accept the reality of that. More importantly, I thought you were always thinking ten steps ahead? Surely, if new information was presented that challenged your behavior in this story, you would be able to explain it easily without missing a beat. At the very least, you’d be able to explain it to me. And that’s all that really matters anyway, isn’t it?”

            He stared at you. You continued to smile at him, resistant to negative thoughts and determined to be a solid support for him. A cloud of pride puffed in your chest at what you had said. You thought you sounded pretty convincing. Hopefully, he would agree.

            Seconds passed. Finally, William took a breath. Then he nodded. You nodded back. Relief flooded through you as you watched the shadow of his anger dissolve from his face. He stood without a word, apparently done with the conversation. You watched as he made to walk by you with nothing more than a few pats on your hand. Annoyed with this half-assed action, you grasped at his fingers and forced him toward you. He chuckled, but went along with it, choosing to lean into the movement and bend over in order to sweetly kiss your lips.

            “Did I help okay?” you whispered into him with closed eyes after pulling away a bit. His head, staying close to you, nodded ever so slightly a few times before pushing into you to kiss you more solidly. It was a clear sign of approval, but also a warning not to discuss what was conversed again in the future. Shut up, it said.

            You smiled into his demanding kiss. There was no problem with not bringing the subject up again. You respected his need to keep quiet on his vulnerabilities. As long as you had done the right thing when he needed you in the moment, the rest was fine.

            “When’s dinner?” he asked after standing back up straight, purposefully diverting the conversation.

            “Anytime,” you replied. “You ready?”

            “Yeah,” he confirmed.

            “Me, too,” you said, standing up behind him and moving to head back into the house with him together.  

            The evening was spent with take-out Chinese and a boring movie on tv.

            Just a normal uneventful day in the house.  

            Nothing more to speak of.

Chapter Text

            At first there was nothing.

            And then there was everything.

            Shock was a curious feeling. That strange out-of-body experience that happens seconds before disaster. He had not felt it many times in his life, but this would surely be the most significant example he would have of it. This moment of shock was a total freeze mixed with an unexplainable confusion, as though his mind were temporarily separated from what his body was going through. His physical form was frozen, but his mind was acutely aware that something dreadfully, painfully, terribly wrong had just occurred--And yet it hadn’t sunk in yet.

            The moment was so quick that all his mind had time to say to itself was the obvious:

            “The springlocks just went off.”

            And then…

            A g o n y

            Pain rushed through in such intensity that there was nothing else he could do but pay attention to it. Through every limb, every finger, every organ, every surface, every delicate piece of his precious human body, he was run through. Sharp pieces of pointed metal pierced into places they should never be. Under his nails, into his neck, under his arms, into his thighs--every fragile little subtle part of him that he had once taken for granted.

            PAIN

            HURT

            I HURT

            GET IT OUT

            GET IT OUT

            HELP

            PAIN

            I’M IN PAIN

            HELP

            SOMEONE HELP ME

            There was nothing. And then everything. An extreme burst of shattered skin and bone. Flesh torn and twisted as easily as if it were nothing but soft dough. His finger joints were wrenched out of their sockets, his intestines were violently shoved out of place, his eyelids were ripped savagely backward as the metal rods locked into place around his eye sockets. Veins were pulled taut until they snapped. He was trapped in a permanent hold of severe mutilation. Every part of his body was broken, sliced, punctured, stripped, or forced apart. His head, his wrists, his calves, his groin. Every part of him would never be the same.

            And the blood… God, the blood…

            He screamed at first. A loud, unholy, pitch of a thing that filled the entire room with its full-blown suffering. It was unfiltered. Unrestrained. Unequivocally disturbing. His wail alone would have unsettled any listener. It was the sound of a man so deeply shaken in pain that any person in their right-of-mind would beg not to take his place.

            But then his vocal cords were sliced clean through. And William’s screams of torment turned to quiet garbled noise. His breath could force no sound beyond the harsh gurgling of liquid that suddenly filled his lungs and throat.

            It was blood.

            There was so much blood.

            The thick red liquid poured from his throat like a vicious unrelenting fountain. It bubbled sickeningly near the back of his tongue whenever he tried to cough, an action that his body had involuntarily tried to instill once his vocal cords had been severed. Not that he had any awareness to notice that he wasn’t purposefully coughing, however. His mind was too suddenly overwhelmed with the fact that his mouth was refusing to close. Thin silver rods had impaled his chin and cheeks in such a way that his jaw was locked into a horrible gaping square maw. For some reason, perhaps due to ever-increasing panic, he was blinded into a desperate urge to squeeze his jaw shut at any cost, as if somehow that action would gain him some sort of control over the terrifying situation. But it didn’t work. And to make matters worse, he was forced to watch in horror as all the blood from his throat squirted out of him. The copper liquid shot out of his mouth into the open air. He could taste it on his tongue and feel it dribble down his stretched lips. It slipped down into his chest and onto the floor in a revolting splatter. The process was impossible to stop, and the fact that he could not even react to what was happening with expression was terrifying.

            I CAN’T CLOSE MY MOUTH

            HELP

            PLEASE HELP

            MY MOUTH

            MY MOUTH

            PLEASE

            I HURT

            I HURT

            PAIN

            I’M IN PAIN

            PLEASE

            His wet blood-filled heaving was causing the rest of his body to forcibly shake. He was rattled into shocks of pain with each singular cough. And still, he could not stop it from happening. Tears formed under his eyes, but they had barely gathered in a tiny puddle before spilling over the edge of his eye sockets. A raspy attempt at vocalization caused yet another frothy round of blood to leak from his mouth as he attempted to cease his lungs from their coughing fit. His fingers were on fire. His elbows felt fractured. His knees had been obliterated instantly.

            When his body fell backward to the ground, new pain erupted upward through his legs. His feet had been crushed down into the suit’s interior shell, pierced through with strong small hooks, which was bad enough on its own. But now the weight of his fall was forcing his feet to bend. He could feel the nerves and muscle strands stretch to exhaustion, pushed to their extreme limit as he dropped. He tried to scream in response, but it only sent more blood to the floor. His butchered throat ached as he stared down at his legs.

            His feet had nearly separated from the ankle entirely.

            Slim sinews of flesh still connected them—though barely. It was a wonder he still felt his toes at all. Attempting to move them led to fresh shrieks of violent pain shooting up his legs like lightning. The awareness that his feet were nearly detached was horrifying. He tried in vain once again to shout his misery to the world.

            MY FEET

            I’M IN PAIN

            PLEASE

            MY ANKLES

            I’M HURTING

            THIS HURTS

            MY BODY

            MY BODY

            I’M IN PAIN

            PLEASE

            Everything hurt. Whether holding still or moving, pain was felt regardless. And now that he was sitting, trembling, there was a new realization: The suit was moving with him. Sure, the suit had technically moved with him before, but this was distressingly different. Never before had he felt the suit from inside him. Every limb was speared through with a solid metal rod. The bones that had been there before had either been shoved aside or split open to allow for the solid intruder to make space for itself. The understanding that a foreign invader was in his own body that he could not remove nor do anything about was so profoundly off-putting that he desired to vomit. But he couldn’t. He was literally unable to. His stomach had been punctured like a pathetic limp balloon. He was forced to unquestionably know that he was stuck to the suit now. And all he had to process this was the increasing panic within his own system that led to his chest heaving in sharp, painful involuntary chokes.

            SEPARATE ME

            SOMEONE SEPARATE ME      

            I’M INSIDE

            I’M IN HERE

            THIS HURTS

            I’M HURTING

            PLEASE

            The problem with panic is it forces the body to twitch. William found himself stuck in a position of his joints sliding against nubs of metal. Raw, wet, open fleshy bits of tissue and muscle rubbing against metal like a sharpened grater. It was torture. Pure torture. No chance of relief. Never in his life had he ever felt this way before. He didn’t even know it was possible to feel this way. The capacity for pain to be felt was significantly higher than he ever imagined.

            Unable to do anything else, William struggled. His attention clung strongly to the idea of holding still. His nervous system was on overload from all the stabbing, grinding, cutting, and shaking throughout every surface of him. The only thing he could do to try and prevent the terrible pain from sending him over the edge was to stop his body from moving completely. In all honesty, it was impossible to do this while his nervous system was in wretched agony, but the fact that he could think about holding still at all gave him hope that all was not lost.

            He was overwhelmed with a strange new feeling: The desperate urge to survive. He was in agony, no doubt of it. And yet despite the pain, despite the reality of his incredibly broken body, despite everything, his number one focus had switched into assessing what he’d need to do to keep going. He could recall staring forward without seeing, too absorbed in self-preservation to take in anything else. Just as curious as the feeling of ‘shock’ was before, so too was this feeling of just pure survival. It was as though the brain was hardwired to resist loss of life at all costs.

            Then again, how large was that cost exactly? And did he truly want to pay it?

             It took several minutes for his mind to finally start to take control of itself. His body convulsed slowly for a long time, pangs of misery shooting through every inch. The more he held still, however, the more his mind was able to process more than just pain.

            The first thing he did was look down at himself. A difficult thing to do when your eyeballs are forced into the open air. He couldn’t blink. He couldn’t tear up. They were so dry. Trying to look down at himself only brought about a new thing to worry over: My eyes. A fresh heave of grief sent a shock through his chest, and ultimately all of him, as his body failed in being able to express his own pain. They’re stuck open, he thought. Images of the springlocks piercing his eyes entered his mind. Briefly he thanked whoever had decided not to put metal rods directly in the center of the eye holes. It was hardly a comforting thought, however.

            Returning to what he was actually looking at, he took in the sight of the suit below him. It was ruined. Barely any of it was yellow anymore. The fur was soaked with maroon, like fresh wet mud caked in grass. Staring at the legs was odd for him. Outwardly they looked like nothing more than the usual Spring Bonnie suit, albeit splashed with paint and vibrating from his pain. But underneath lurked a deadly hidden reality. His legs felt twisted and destroyed under that cartoonish shape. He knew his feet were barely hanging on and yet you wouldn’t’ be able to tell externally. What did they look like under that seemingly innocent yellow shell? Did he even want to know?

            I ’ m  b r o k e n

            H e l p  m e

            I  c a n ’ t  m o v e

            I t ’ s  e v e r y w h e r e

            A l l  o v e r

            Where am I?

            William’s eyes rolled upward to take in the room he was in. His body pulsated with painful shaking. To say he had a headache was an understatement. It took several more minutes before his mind allowed him to truly focus on where he was. It was then that the memories of what had led him to this moment in the first place flooded back to him.

            Five of them.

            Five spirits.

            The children.

            Suddenly, his shaking body froze. Paralyzed by the memory, William was overtaken by the very real possibility that he was still not alone. In one smooth slow movement, his gaze shifted from left to right.

            The room appeared empty. Darkness. Nothing but the sound of falling rain.

            Everything, and then nothing.

            A strange relief washed over him, quickly replaced with the returning onslaught of horrifying pain. If he could clench his teeth, he would.

            I’m being a fool, he thought. What more could the children do to him now?

            I need to wait, he thought. He was in an awful situation, but he was bound to be found eventually. He’d be found and then taken to a hospital. They’d help him. They had to. It was their job. Surely, he would not be stuck here like this forever.

            This hurts…

            Find me…

            Release me…

            Find me before I die…

            I’m in pain…

            Help…

            How long would he have to sit here and hold still? An hour? Two? A full day? Admittedly he wasn’t sure how long he could hold out. It was taking everything within him just to sit in the same position. The sensation of hard metal pressing into his exposed nerves was enough to make a man go insane, let alone whenever he moved.

            He guessed it would be no more than a few hours before he was found. Thinking about that was horrible given that he desired to be found immediately instead. But there was no avoiding the unfortunate reality of his predicament. He was alone. No one knew he was here. Waiting was the only choice. He could survive that long, couldn’t he? It had to be possible. Surely, he of all people could prove that point.

            All he had to do was watch the door he had come through. They’d come through there and then discover his body. They’d see he was alive. They’d see. He had hope.

            All he had to do was wait.

Chapter Text

            They walled me in today.

            He had thought the worst was over. But the worst was still to come. His hopes had been shattered the moment he realized what they were doing with their handfuls of buckets and plaster. He was forced to watch in paralyzed helplessness as they blocked the entirety of the doorway. Forced to silently watch as his existence was indifferently hidden in some elaborate coverup scheme.

            He had tried to scream to get their attention. He had tried to move. He had tried everything within his power to tell them that he was still here. Even if it cost him more pain, he did not want to be left behind. Anything but that. But all that had occurred was the let out of a small, strained sound. The sound of a pair of drowned and deflated lungs too weak and destroyed to be properly used.

            I’M STILL HERE

            I’M STILL HERE

            I’M STILL HERE

            DON’T LEAVE ME HERE

            DON’T LEAVE ME HERE

            DON’T LEAVE ME HERE

            Mental expletives can only go so far when you’re trying to capture someone’s attention. The feeling was not unlike trying to run in a dream. The more he tried to move, the slower he went. And in reality, he wasn’t moving at all. He merely thought he was. Too debilitated was his mind to send the appropriate signals to his nerves to instruct his limbs to lift or turn. In the end, the workers left with hardly a word in his direction. He was left to sit on the floor, literally trapped in both body and room.

            At first, he was insulted. Angry. How dare they try to cover him up? But the thought was fleeting. By the time the wall was finished, and he could hear their footsteps echoing farther and farther away from their completed job, he was in more desperation than he had been before when the springlocks first went off.

            DON’T LEAVE ME HERE

            PLEASE

            DON’T LEAVE ME HERE

            I’M STILL HERE

            I’M HURTING

            PLEASE

            I’M STILL HERE

            Being physically ripped apart by the springlocks had been awful. But in blunt truth, the event was now over. Somehow, he had survived it, and regardless of how, what mattered now was his new reality: Being alone. Physical agony was one thing. But losing his mind was another. He knew what would happen if he was left behind that wall for too long. Immediately, his thoughts were thrown into despair. And it was crippling. He wanted to scream. To wail. To pound on the wall. To tell everyone that he was still inside, still alive, still here. To beg for mercy against the horrifying circumstance of his life. Nothing else mattered. But they would not hear him. He would not be able to pound on the door or shout at the top of his lungs. He could not even physically express his torment. Inwardly, he was writhing in pain, howling in excruciating sorrow, but outwardly, he was paralyzed. There was nothing but the rasp of his blood-soaked airways and the glaze of his ever-seeing eyes to suggest that he was still unimaginably alive. He felt like a patient in surgery that was supposed to be under anesthesia but was somehow still awake.

            For a while, he thought himself to be in a nightmare. But over time, he realized this was just a hopeless desire. If pinching yourself awake was the way out of a dream, he had undergone far more than was required to bring yourself back to reality.

            He was, unfortunately, very much alive.

            There was no way to tell the passing of time in the room. No windows, no cracks in the facade to let in light, no clocks. Only the walls, a few machines, and him. Counting the seconds didn’t help either. Despite having nothing to distract him, William found his mind unable to concentrate on counting. It was dull, it was pointless, and it only reminded him of just how bad his situation was.

            His existence had been reduced to nothing but waiting and holding still. And he hated it.

            When the weather changed and the cold came, a new form of torture appeared. He knew from life before being trapped in the room what it felt like for the temperature to drop so low that your body naturally shivered, but he had never experienced it while also being pierced through with metal at the same time. Not only did the metal turn achingly cold, but the wet of his flesh would cause itself to stick to the material, only to then be ripped off from the incessant shaking. This process would repeat over and over, all over his body, limbs, and head. Stick, shake, shred. Stick, shake, shred. Rivulets of red would trickle down in all the places that would rip. Miniature representations of torture visualized anywhere that the muscles got stuck. If he could have wept, he would have. It was misery. Pure misery. There was nothing he could do to stop his body from suffering. He could not stop the shaking, nor control the changing of the seasons. He was stuck being torn repeatedly from the inside all over. All winter long.

            I hurt

            I hurt

            I hurt

            I’m cold

            I’m cold

            I’m cold

            I’m still here

            I’m still here

            I’m still here

            When the insects came, he was surprised at his own pitiful response. He thought himself better than to mewl like a child over being eaten alive. But there’s only so many things one can think and feel when the bugs begin to nibble at your fingertips. Every bite, though small, was felt. Through his fingers, his toes, his limbs, his exposed organs. Anywhere the bugs could reach. Little snips and chomps of flesh just disappearing out of thin air, as though he were a five-course meal. Sharp pain, and then the horror of feeling nothing in its place.

            He was reminded of videos he used to watch (and enjoy) of animals being eaten alive on the savannah. There was always something intriguing about watching an antelope’s face whenever the lions were deep in its belly. He often wondered what the antelope was thinking. That far-away look in their eyes was always so fascinating to him. Prey eyes. Helplessness. Agony. Funny now to think that he once fantasized about being the lion in those videos when here he was now, arguably in the antelope’s position. Did his eyes give off the same feeling as what he saw in those videos? Did he have that far-away look?

            He couldn’t imagine it. Even in a place like this, he did not feel like an antelope. He felt like a lion. A lion being eaten alive. Predator eyes. Was it irony that the lion was being eaten? Cruel fate? He didn’t know.

            All he knew was pain.

            Every time he thought he couldn’t possibly feel more suffering, he was proven wrong. The anguish over his flesh being stripped away clean and slowly over time was unbearable. He wanted to die. I wanted to die.

            And yet somehow, he wouldn’t.

            Why? Why wouldn’t he die? Had he miraculously not lost enough blood yet? He hadn’t eaten in so long. How was his body still functioning? If one could even call this functioning.

            I’m alive

            I’m alive

            I’m alive

            I’m still here

            I’m still here

            I’m still here

            In truth, he knew the reason. And in some twisted way, he felt proud to have proven that he had been right all along.

            But it wasn’t enough to fight off the depression.

            Or the slippery perception of a mind with no stimulation. (stimulation)

            He found himself dreaming of things he would do if only he could. Dreaming of things I could do. Dreaming of things he could have (have), things he missed. Surprisingly, they were small things. Things that wouldn’t matter under normal circumstances. Things that he once found miserable and low class.

            What I wouldn’t give for a cigarette. (a cigarette)

            A magazine.

            Shitty gas station food. (the terrible kind)

            Bad elevator music.

            The more awful the idea was, the more he wanted it. Anything was better than being here. He even missed being able to shit. A stupid crude thing to miss, and yet it represented a fully functioning body with digestible food and the ability to appreciate a small amount of time away from normal life.

            Normal life was a thing of the past, however. I miss it.

            Now all he had was time. (Time)

            Now all he had.

            Was time.

            And silence.

Chapter Text

            The light had appeared randomly one day. A sliver of white in the corner of his peripheral vision. (vision) It was small at first, barely a flicker of a thing. A smudge of white, like a smear formed by his thumb. Of white. He didn’t know where it had come from, or why it had chosen only now to appear.

            Had the power come back on? I didn’t do that.

            He tried to remember where the switches were in the room. Where the switches were in the room. They were on the wall, right? Did this room ever have overhead lighting? No.

            The smudge of white light would bounce from one corner of his room to the other. At first, he thought it was a spirit, but he knew what those looked like. This was no spirit. It was light, he was sure of it. I was sure of it.

            The more he tracked the smudge around the room, the more it would change shape.

            A smudge.

            A square.

            A bear.

            A top hat.

            It was flat. 2D. A bear. Freddy? No.

            The light stayed for two days. (days) Or weeks. Maybe it was weeks. Then the room began to warp before him in an impossible manner. It would change size, as though it were shrinking, or he was growing. He could feel nothing-- I could feel nothing as it happened. He knew what it felt like to move (pain) and there was no pain when the room changed so, naturally, the room must be the thing changing size.

            But then, since when did the room do that?

            I don’t remember installing that.

            Was it possible this was a sound illusion disc…?

            …

            How would he know if it wasn’t?

                                                                   “Hi.”

            His eyes flickered to the corner of the room. The corner of the room. A round animatronic of a boy holding a balloon was there. This was the third time he had appeared that

                                                        day                  (week)                                    (month)

            The boy animatronic disappeared.

            A collection of giggling was heard to the right. I looked to the right. Puppets were along the outside edge of the machines. Freddles. Bonbons. Eyes from puppets staring at me. Looking at me. They’re looking at me. I’m stuck and they’re looking at me. Help me.

                                                                   “Hi.”

            Balloon boy.

            Let me turn him off.

            I should stand up and turn him off. Let me just stand and turn him off. I don’t want to hear him anymore. I should move. I want to move. I’m going to move.

            Suddenly, a child was at his feet. A real child. (a child?)

            At least he thought they were real.

            They looked real. Small. Young. Face freshly painted with black streaks. They looked familiar. Should he know them? (I know them.)

                                                                   “Don’t.” it said.                       It said.

            I said.

            No, they said. I said nothing.            

            Annoying. Go away.

            I shook the thing off.

                                             P A I N

            Agony rippled through him as he was unceremoniously reminded of what it felt like to move. Shocks of electric spasms filtered through his limbs and his chest attempted to cough.

            Except… nothing was there to cough with. Bewildered by the strange phantom-feeling of lungs that were once there, William heaved through a bodily reaction that was as close to heavy breathing as he could get. On any other day, he might have blinked furiously through his sudden coming-to, but it wasn’t possible to do so. Instead, he simply leaned forward in horrible creak-filled pain and open-mouth hissed into the air. A coppery taste filled his mouth. I was shocked by the knowledge that I could still taste.

            Once the moment had passed, William looked to the corner.

            No Balloon Boy.

            He looked at the machines.

            No puppets.

            He looked at his feet.

            No child.

            I look down at my body. What’s left of my body. There’s metal. And flesh. Both. Entwined.

            The yellow of the suit was starting to change. The edges were starting to contort into an ugly green.

            Mold? (mold)

            There were rips in some of the seams. A Few holes starting to form in the legs. How did those get there?

            I’m changing. (He’s changing) Something had just changed. More than just the appearance of the suit. This felt important. Like he had just realized something significant. But what was it?

            He stared at his metallic feet. He imagined the child still being there, and then shaking them off.

            Shaking them off.

            A lightbulb seemed to go off in his mind.

            Gathering his strength, I raise my hand. I scream. I try to scream. I can’t scream. Pushing through, he forced his fingers to bend. I’m screaming.

            They left me

            They left me

            I’m screaming

            They left me

            He had moved his hand successfully. Painfully, yes, but more importantly, successfully.

            A darkness began to form in his gut, then.

            If he could smile, he would have.

            It was small. It was agony. It was nothing. It was everything.

            Pain could be used. It could be transformed. Pain was a reminder that he was still alive. A reminder that not all was lost. If he could feel pain, then he could keep going. I can use this to my advantage. He could use this to his advantage.

            I’m still here

            I can feel this

            Pain can fuel me

            I just need time

            He wasn’t foolish enough to think that if he could move, then he could be free just yet. No, he needed to make a plan. He needed to know what to do once he left this room. He just needed time to think it through.

            I just need time.

            Time is all I have.

            Time is all I need.

            If this can’t stop me, nothing can. I’m immortal. I’m unstoppable. I will always come back.

            He could wait. He would wait. No matter how long it took. No matter how much pain he would need to self-inflict to remind him of what he could do. Of what he could survive. Of what they tried to do to him and still he had come out on top.

            They better find him quick. (Quick)

            Because the longer I stay here behind the wall, the more time I have to perfect my plan.

            Better find me fast.

Chapter Text

            It was done. The plan was done. He had thought of everything, and it was perfect. He had accounted for every setback. Every possible scenario where someone could attempt to stop him. He was satisfied with his plan. He had been intelligent in his thinking and that was something to be proud of.

            Now all there was to do was sit back and wait. Wait with a purpose, that is. A goal for what to do once he was out. He would be found eventually; he was sure of it. I was sure of it.

            Though, he wasn’t stupid. The hallucinations from before had left as soon as he had started plotting, so he knew they’d return if he wasn’t quick to keep his mind sharp. They had only left because he was critically thinking. His mind needed stimulation or he’d go crazy. (crazy) The question now was what to think about. What do I want to think about?

            His first idea was to solve some kind of mathematical equation. Or a few. Or a hundred. But considering he had just taken a great amount of time in plotting out a plan, he wasn’t in the mood to think of anything mathematical. Or logical, for that matter. No, he wanted something different. Something fantastical, just to shake things up.

            What could he fantasize about? (about)

            He recalled how he had once fantasized about ridiculous things like shitty gas station food or cigarettes. If he could have cringed, he would have. The memory felt sad and pathetic. It was clear those items were wanted out of desperation. No, he didn’t want pity. He didn’t need something to cling to.

            What he wanted was something indulgent. Something to spite the current state of his body. Something impossible. The opposite of pain.

            A curl of a wicked grin flashed across his face (it didn’t). It flashed across my face.

            He knew what he wanted. Something the opposite of pain (pleasure). To spite his current form (fantasize having a body capable of being used). The ability to take power (control). How could he combine all of these things into one?

            A sharp breath sucked into the my open mouth of the corpse against the wall (my mouth) as he imagined squeezing someone’s neck.

            Squeezing… (squeezing)

            Perhaps he could satisfy both desires at once.

            Perhaps he could corrupt you. (me)

            Perhaps I could corrupt you. (Reader)

            Perhaps I could make you believe that you wrote it. (that I wrote it)

            Are you the one in control? (me?)

            Or am I? (you?)

            You’re a voluntary victim. (We both are)

            You are nothing. (We are everything)

Chapter Text

            It was late. And you were wide awake.

            The room was a comfortable temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. Just low enough to enjoy the comfort of your own blankets. You felt calm. Settled. The sun had set hours ago but it was not unpleasant to still be up. The night was something to be enjoyed. You appreciated the quiet atmosphere of a time where most of the world was sleeping.

            The bed was large. Full of soft sheets and comforters. It was hard not to feel in luxury whenever you laid in it. Sleeping felt like swimming through clouds, especially with how big the piece of furniture was. You had never had a king-sized bed before. When you had first laid in it, you had thought it was too much. Excessive. But now you were used to it. It was a luxury you could afford to indulge in. One you wanted to enjoy, either by yourself or with another beside you.

            For now, you were alone.

            Although, that was not to last.

            Just as you were sliding your hands gently back and forth against the slippery sheets to take in their rich splendor, you noticed a sudden change at the open door of the room.

            A man was at the doorway, drowned in shadow.

            No, not a man.

            A rabbit.

            A yellow rabbit.

            His stance was eerie. Tall, but unnaturally still. Too still. You had the impression that he had been standing there for a long while, just staring at you. Or, perhaps, that’s just what you feared had been occurring.

            Your body froze as you held your gaze with the strange figure. His eyes were hollow. Two black voids in the darkness. Were they empty all the way through? They couldn’t be. There was the distinct feeling that you were being watched with more than just an empty skull. A stiff white grin curved below the circles of voids. A solid cartoonish nose the only thing separating them, offering a peculiar juxtaposition against the arguably creepy rest of his features. Even the soft looking ears seemed disturbing given the atmosphere. They angled up and over like unsettling proboscises. You imagined them moving independently, able to creep along your skin and shiver along in some unknown, unimaginable intent.

            The rabbit’s body was modular. Malleable looking. Yellow curves rounding about each limb. The lumps led down into exaggerated hands or feet depending. The cushiony look to its body should have alleviated your wariness, but it only added to the uncanny effect of seeing this creature at your bedroom door.

            And then he moved.

            The rabbit entered your room, quiet and purposeful. It made a direct line straight toward you, and you watched in awestruck horror as the moonlight coming in from the windows danced across his form. Stripes of light passed over him the closer he got; the hollow eye sockets locked solidly on you.

            Your first instinct was to grip the edge of your covers and pull them up to your chest. But as soon as you had done so did you feel silly over it. What was that going to do? Still, your fright was overpowering your sense of logic. You watched, paralyzed, as the rabbit approached the bedside. For a moment, neither of you did anything, and then the rabbit sat down next to you, its head still facing you directly.

            You watched as his hand laid flat against the bed, close enough to grab you if he so desired, but far enough away to not appear immediately threating. It was the perfect placement. Too close to run but giving you enough space to appreciate being cornered prey.

            And then he leaned forward. You could do nothing as you watched the giant yellow head come toward you. That wicked grin of stark white teeth growing closer and closer. The black eye sockets turning into pools of liquid death, so much bigger now than before. Even the tall yellow ears seem to help press you in, his entire form starting to confine you into the bedspace.

            Yet, you allowed it. You did not shrink nor close your eyes. Instead, you welcomed the restriction. You did nothing but sit still as the yellow rabbit softly pressed its nose against your cheek. The rubber of its material felt strange against your skin.

            You could feel two furry hands sink into the mattress on either side of you. And then his knees were straddling you. Your eyes were looking straight ahead into the sockets of the rabbit’s face, but you felt his hands begin to smoothly drift up your thighs and onto your sides. The bulky digits began to caress you, and that’s when you heard the sigh.

            It had come from inside the rabbit. A noise hidden in some mysterious inner cavity. Intrigued, you tilted your head to the side, forcing the rabbit’s head to tilt with you. A sliver of moonlight fell against his face. Suddenly, something could be seen inside the black voids. Two eyes. Human eyes. Barely seen behind the black material of the rabbit mask.

            They watched you, unblinking. Witnessing them, and realizing they were looking right back at you, caused a jump to occur in your stomach. For some reason, the situation had changed. A crawling sensation shivered through you as you registered that one of the rabbit’s hands had found its way to your chest.

            Feeling daring, you turned your head and let your lips connect with the soft fur of the rabbit’s snout. It was small, subtle. But a message communicated regardless.

            The response was quick. A sharp squeeze of both hands, one against your chest and the other your side. You physically jumped at the unexpected squeeze. It had scared you, though the feeling was pleasant once the fear had passed.

            Your hands had been stuck under the blankets thus far. But now it was time to release them. You pulled them out from their trapped position and placed them flat against the rabbit’s chest. The fur there was just as soft as the fur on his face. You ran your palms down until you were forced to change position and slide them sideways along his middle. You ran them up his back and then toward his shoulders, giving him a back-and-forth sliding rub against his upper arms. Encouragement, you hoped.

            The rabbit’s head floated upward, just enough to let the mask’s teeth find its alignment with your mouth. At first, you thought you were being asked to kiss the rabbit’s cartoonish grin. But then one of his hands reached up to unlock some unknown mechanism inside the jaw. It lowered, and you smiled at the reveal of the man’s true mouth underneath. The line of it was held in the barest of smiles, more of a curiosity-based expression than one of pure joy. It looked as though he were interested in what you were going to do now that he had opened the rabbit’s jaw.

            You wasted no time. Once you had taken in what was underneath, you turned your head to the side and ducked into the mask’s opening. You connected your lips with his immediately. They were warm, soft, and full of earnest returned interest.

            You found yourself sinking back into the pillow as the rabbit man pressed himself down into you. Neither of you disconnected mouths. You let him trap you completely, absorbed in his kisses as your hands danced along his back in want. His own hands were exploring anywhere he could reach, giving little squeezes of delight anywhere he landed.

            The weight of his whole being was gratifying. You felt pinned to the bed in a strange sense of love and safety. He was frightening, and yet comforting at the same time. A man full of desire and mystery.

            When his furred hand snuck down in between your legs, you grinned against his lips. You let your knees move away from each other in order to let him have further access. His hand was above the blanket, but the increased pressure was still unlocking some primal feeling with you.

            Wanting to match his desire, and to silently speak of what you wanted yourself, you moved one of your hands down to rub against the groin plate of the rabbit shell. No sooner had you done so did the man kissing you pull away. He leaned back, sitting up in the bed on his knees. You watched hastily move his hand away from your crotch to his own. He did not deny your hand placement, but you did hear a faint clicking noise before the groin plate fell away.

            You let your hand hover in place until the plate had been removed, haphazardly tossed onto the bedroom floor without so much as looking in its direction. Still locked onto his lips, you let your hand explore the freshly opened territory. You felt skin. A hip. Then across the expanse of his lower stomach to the other hip.

            And then… lower.

            Drifting down, your fingers fell through the feeling of gathered hair until you found his shaft. You curled your hand around it gently, beginning to drag your fingers along it slowly.

            Meanwhile, your rabbit lover was busy himself. His own hand had discovered the blanket’s edge, and he had pulled it away from you almost as soon as his groin plate had been removed. Just as you were starting to feel his most sensitive areas, he had found the edge of your underwear. He dug the furry yellow digits under the fabric and savagely yanked it, forcing you to temporarily let go of him in order to follow his command. You wiggled out of the underwear and threw it aside, barely giving it a second’s thought before returning to the task at hand.

            He let go of your mouth, then. Leaning back a bit, he quickly shoved one of his hands into the rabbit mask’s opening. You didn’t understand what he was doing, until suddenly a yellow glove was tossed into the air. You had just enough time to see a flash of human skin before his hand had shoved itself down between your legs to find your flesh. Following suit, you re-gripped his shaft and together you proceeded to please the other. Frantically finding each other’s mouths again, you were pleased to notice the increase in his fervor. Instead of simply kissing, the actions were sloppy. Tongue swipes, biting, even little grunts had entered the mix. And the same could be said for you. Your entire body was starting to move against his hand, and he seemed to be attempting to thrust into yours.

            Suddenly, his fingers pressed upwards and in, shoving into that delicate space between your folds. You cried out in joy, biting his lip forcefully. He laughed. A dark, threatening chuckling. The heat of the moment was rising, and he was enjoying it. You pulled and pressed your hand against him, twisting your movements in a curled effort, switching up the pattern and speed. He grunted in reaction, his menacing laugh catching in his throat.

            His hand pulled out of you, then, and he tapped the side of your leg lightly. When you didn’t respond, he tapped again and pulled against your skin tautly.

            Immediately, you let go of him and turned over, wanting to obey his instruction. You forced your head down into the pillows and brought your knees up a bit for him. The yellow rabbit re-positioned his knees and centered himself behind you. He bit his lip in anticipation. You looked so vulnerable in this position. He could take you instantly and you would be his. His alone. The thick of him entered your opening and he slid into the tight space. He slid forward until the fronts of his thighs connected with the backs of yours. An unexplainable rush of pleasant electricity fired up through your system as his legs tucked up against you as close as they could go. His hands were gripped onto the thick of your hips, his knees were strongly next to yours, and his pelvis was pressed up into you like a sword packed tight into its sheath.

            You were both as close as physically possible, held securely together through pressure alone.

            A beast with two backs…

            You gasped lightly when he began to thrust in small movements. He was slow at first, letting both of you get used to the action. But your chest was jolting with each plunge, as though even going slow was sending you over the edge. His push-and-pull motion was causing you to lightly bounce into the pillows, a somewhat awkward reality, but one you didn’t mind. You were too busy groaning in ecstasy. Your cries were filling the fabric, including the sound of his name. Your hands clutched at the bed sheets in desperation. He was making you feel incredible. You didn’t want it to end.

            Neither did he, it seemed. His cries were quieter, but definitely there. He seemed hellbent on pounding into you, his thrust beginning to gain traction and forcing you into the bed. You tried to hold position, but the feeling was causing you to fall downward slightly. He was able to follow you for the most part, even switching the position of his knees a bit to cater to the changed movement. Thankfully, the shift in position caused a new angle of thrusting, one more pleasurable for the both of you. He loved it, he loved it. The hit surcharged a new wave of pleasure and each of you grunted in reaction.

            Overwhelmed in feeling, you leaned back as far as you could go, urging him to plunge even deeper than he was currently doing. It was impossible to do so, but he tried anyway. The mixed pressure of your combined pushing and pulling ended up benefiting both of you. He groaned loudly when you forced yourself backward into him unexpectedly. The groan climbed into a strong burst, and he clutched for purchase on your back as he feverishly chased the high with multiple fast pumps. With each thrust, his moan sank lower until his breathing was erratic. His release was quick, but the post-feeling of it was slow. You screamed his name into the pillow, feeling grateful for having something to cling to as you let yourself submit fully to the orgasm. There was something especially satisfying about feeling him try to cling to you desperately as you chased your own version of the high. It felt joined. It felt equal. It felt like combined love. Because it was.

            When he pulled out, you sank into the bed and lie still, your lungs trying to catch up to what had just occurred. Your rabbit lover, meanwhile, collapsed next to you, seemingly needing a moment himself.

            Neither of you spoke. The only sound was the haggard shakes of both of your breathing.

            When finally, the afterglow was lowering enough to be able to move, you turned your head and body to face him and curled forward, letting yourself lean toward him. He did the same, shifting to lay on his side and reached out with the hand that was still gloved. You followed his movement and took hold of the furry material. His fingers gripped around yours tightly. You squeezed. So did he.

            I love you, you thought.

            He loves me, he thought.

            You stayed locked together, hand-in-hand, for hours.

            <3

Chapter Text

            “I feel lazy,” he announced.

            The words were said into your ear quietly. Each of you had been lying in bed for a few minutes now, his arms wrapped around you from behind. You had tucked yourself as far back as you could go into him, your bodies angled together and bent to fit into the other like one agreeably warm puzzle. Your elbows were nestled into your own stomach as you clutched backwards onto his arms. He was curled around you like a large coat, and you were all too pleased to be inside of it. One quiet night with nothing but the promise of being surrounded by the one you loved.

            Taking in his words on laziness, you breathed a few times before deciding to reply.

            “I agree,” you said. “I’m rather enjoying just being here with you.”

            His nose nestled into the crook of your shoulder and neck.

            “Perhaps nothing too energetic tonight,” he suggested. “What if I just used my mouth?”

            You leaned your head sideways to let more of him into you. He took advantage of this with his lips. “I’d be up for that,” you confirmed.

            His foreplay started immediately. Calm, gentle caresses with his hands and firm plantings of kisses into your neck. You allowed him to take control completely, barely moving beyond adjusting position whenever he needed it. Having done this many times before, he knew exactly what to do. There was no need for words or direction.

            After sitting up and pulling at your thigh to silently ask for admittance, William soon buried his mouth between your legs. For several minutes, his tongue was all you could pay attention to. That, and his hands, which had staked claim in the flesh of your hips. You found yourself clinging to the tops of them, digging your nails in whenever there was a particularly blissful swipe of his licking.

            When the deed was done, and you had expelled the highest of your yelps, you pushed him away and fell to your side, gasping for breath. William took the opportunity to leave for the bathroom. Through the shakes of your whining, you could hear him spitting into the sink behind the closed door. A messy job had its realities. You were grateful he was willing to do such an act for you at all.

            William returned after washing out his mouth and climbed back into the position he had been in before. He slid his hands along you to make sure you were alright. The worst of your heaving had been long over, but you were letting yourself drop slowly in feeling. It was nice to indulge in it, especially now that he had returned and was squeezing you tightly.

            “Was it nice?” he asked.

            You nodded. “Very.”

            “Did you like what I did?” he clarified.

            Your eyes, which had previously been pressed closed in an effort to focus on your emotional rush, snapped open. “Did you try something new?” you asked. Your brain tried to think back and recall if you could feel anything different.

            “No,” he admitted. “Just checking that you still like what I do and that nothing has changed. I mostly reacted to how you were responding.”

            “Nothing has changed,” you assured, closing your eyes again. “I like what you do.”

            William’s body settled, clinging to you more tightly after being answered. “Good,” he said. “I thought so. That was the most swears I’ve gotten out of you in a while.”

            Pursing your lips against a smile, you tried to buck back into him slightly. “Yeah, well, like I said. I liked it.”

            “Probably all the better that that was all I did tonight…” he began to say. You could hear from the glint in his voice that he was grinning. You listened with a smirk, knowing he was setting something up.  “…because you wouldn’t have been able to handle all of me.”

            Your head turned upwards in an attempt to face him from the angle you were at. “Oh, really?” you challenged.

            “Yes,” he affirmed. “I’m twelve inches when flaccid.”

            You gawked, your eyes snapping open in shock. With a stunted bark of a laugh, you replied to his boastful lie.

            “You are not twelve inches when flaccid,” you sarcastically argued.

            “I am,” he insisted.

            “You are not!”

            “Of course, I am. I’m completely serious, can’t you tell?”

            Your chest began to bounce from your suppressed sniggering. He was being absurd on purpose, but it was welcomed. Curling forward, your body tightened into a spring of stifled joy before letting it go completely and cackling while returning to being enveloped by his limbs.

            “William…” you started to say after gathering yourself. You bit your lip to resist grinning and tried to be serious (failing miserably). “If you were twelve inches soft… That would mean… Will, you would--”

            “You wouldn’t be able to handle all of me,” he interrupted simply. “Like I said.”

            “Oh my god,” you couldn’t help uttering, blowing out air as you did so.

            “You’d only be able to handle one fifth of me,” he added.

            “WILL!” you shouted in mirth, unable to keep up with his sporty quick wits. “STOP! If you were that long, you’d look ridiculous!”

            “Nonsense,” he replied confidently. “I tuck.”

            It was this comment that sent you into a roar of uncontrollable laughter. Imagining him tucking a bizarrely long phallus was the most hilarious thing you’d heard all week. Your body twisted into bouts of cheery displays, William catching up to the motions as best he could with his clinging hands and grinning chuckles.

            “You—You do not… tuck!!” you accused through your lively joviality.

            “What do you think the pelvis piece is for when I put the suit on?” William teasingly asked, somehow still unaffected by his own humor. “It holds it all in.”

            You giggled at him, and then gasped, finally having gathered your own thoughts to be able to shoot back a witty comment of your own. Excited by your line of thinking, you instinctively began to tap at his arms with your fingers like a child about to tell a sneaky joke.

                      “Will,” you started to say, almost blurting through your words with your own laughter. “Will, if that were true…” You had to pause just to hold back your own snickering. “…you’d have to be rolled up like a tape measure!”

            At this, William finally cracked. A great bellow of a laugh erupted out of him, and you each squeezed the other in your shared merriment. You both laughed until you were crying. It wasn’t until the air had settled into random spurts of quieter giggling that you decided to roll over in place to suddenly shift the mood entirely.

            Placing the flat of your hand against his chest, you pushed against him.

            “Lean back,” you instructed with a smile, little chuckles falling out of you still. “It’s your turn.”

            “Oh, is it?” he quipped, a cheeky grin still plastered on his face.

            “Unless you don’t want it,” you teased.

            “Oh, no, I definitely do,” he assured.

            And now it was your turn to please him. You sank below his belly to the core of his gravity. Fresh from laughter, the scene had turned perfectly into a round of intense sexuality. A different kind of exuberance. You opened your mouth to him and reveled in his reaction. Being able to provide for him in this way felt special, especially after having just shared in humor. It felt like a unique shared experience just for the both of you. You had joked, you had laughed, and now you could stunt that same feeling of humor in him with choking cries. It was beautiful in its own way. You knew exactly what to do to get him there, you knew what he liked. You were the perfect person to be in this situation with him currently. Flowing swiftly through two forms of exultation.

            As an added bonus, you decided to surprise him tonight. A new idea had entered your mind, inspired by something he had done for you just moments earlier. You hoped he would respond well to it, despite knowing that if he didn’t, he’d simply inform you of his preference afterword and you’d learn from it.

            William’s reaction was immediate. And positive. It was clear he hadn’t expected you to do it, which was strangely nice. His head had leaned back with a moan and his hands shot up fast to grip into your hair. He liked it quite well, that much was obvious. Good. You continued to do the same motion over and over, the thrill of it getting the best of him.

            When he finished in a most spectacular fashion, you felt proud. You held still through the bulk of it, refusing to remove your lips until he had let go of your hair. It wasn’t until a sigh could be heard exhaling out of him that you stood to go the bathroom. Your version of cleaning up would require more time considering you had multiple areas to wash, but you did your best to be quick about it.

            You returned to find him lying back in splendor. It was clear that his ego had been satisfied. Another drop of pride splashed into your chest at the sight of him. Sliding in next to him, you cuddled up into his side and put a hand against his stomach. He kissed the side of your head and rubbed your shoulder in greeting.

            “I take it you liked it,” you said.

            “I did,” he confirmed.

            “Glad I could provide for the one fifth of you I could reach,” you joked. He snickered, playfully pulling you toward his face so that he could grit his grinning teeth against your forehead.

            “Anything I can do differently for you?” you asked.

            “Hm…” he murmured in thought. “No, I don’t believe so.”

            “Alright. Glad we checked in with each other anyway.”

            With laughter subdued and the height of your passionate exchange now over, the quiet of the night settled into the room. For a while, each of you stayed silent. There were no more words to say nor thoughts to be shared. It was just the peace of the evening and two lovers wrapped in each other’s comforting arms.

            It was after a while that you heard the start of his breathing turn into light snoring. The sound made you smile. Sleep sounded like the best idea at the moment. You were glad he had already fallen into it so that you could experience witnessing him do so. After several minutes of listening to his serene slumber, you succumbed to the drifty offering of tranquil rest as well.

            From trading laughter to trading exhales of passion.

            (And now, trading peaceful snoring.)

            You both were so very much loved by the other.

Chapter Text

            Fields flew fast past you in flashes of gold and shimmering reflections of light. The wheat was tall, shaking in the gentle breeze like dry seaweed in the damp dirt. You found the drifting lines of highlighted color fascinating to watch. Although perhaps that was only because presently there was little else to do but look out the window.

            You and your partner had decided to go on another road trip. A shorter one than last time, but long enough to include a drive time that promised a good length of pleasant silence in the middle. Both of you had already put small chattering behind you, having hit that comfortable quiet that occurs during the lull of long travels. It was serene. The only sound coming from the radio, which was currently playing an oddly fitting older song involving a cowboy and his lover. The story was unrelatable, but the sound suited the mood of this particular road trip.

            “So, in anger I challenged his right for the love of this maiden…”

            Pulling your eyes from the dancing wheat on either side of the car, you turned to look at the man driving the car. William was concentrating on the road ahead, one hand on the wheel, the other set against the side of his head with his elbow tucked into the window ledge. It appeared as though he had settled into a lazier sense of driving, either out of boredom or a settled sense of focus. As you stared at him, an idea began to form in your mind.

            “Hey, do you want to play a game?” you asked. There was a pause before he replied.

            “What kind of game?” William queried.

            “What if I looked up questions on my phone and we both answer them to get to know each other better?” Your spirit lifted as soon as the idea left your mouth. The opportunity to get to know him better felt enticing. Your feelings wavered, however, when you realized that your interest would most likely only be one sided. He wasn’t always pleased with these kinds of games. He always preferred ones that involved more thinking. Still, you were interested in the idea yourself, so you decided to wait and see if perhaps this would be the one time you were wrong about his preferences.

            William’s head turned just enough to allow him a queer glance at you before he focused on the road again. You recognized that look. “Where’s the strategy in that?” he asked irritably. Yup. Just as you had thought.

            “Not every game has to have strategy, does it?” you tried. Admittedly, you recognized that your idea was more self-gratifying than anything. Still, you wanted to persist in convincing him that it would be worth it.

            “Any good game does,” William argued. “There’s no winning or losing in your suggested game.”

            “What if I don’t call it a game, then?” you offered. “How about we just use it as an excuse to pass the time?”

            William shifted so that both of his hands could clutch the steering wheel tightly. He looked subtly annoyed, but there was thinking behind his eyes. After several seconds passed, his mouth transformed into a sly smile. His next words caught you off guard.

            “You want to play the Newlywed Game, is that it?” he challenged lightheartedly.

            For some reason, his sudden jokingly accusatory tone caused you to blush. He had flipped his annoyance into trapping you and you hadn’t expected it. Refusing to remain caught for long, you challenged him right back.

            “Yeah, so, you want to try it or not?” you asked in a playfully frustrated tone.

            His smile widened before he shrugged. “Fine,” he said simply. His mood had changed from sour to agreeable, but you could tell he was only playing along for your sake. You said nothing, but mentally sent appreciation his way for it.  

            Collecting your phone from the cup holder, you picked it up and started to look up questions. Your intention was to find ones that might lead to interesting conversation, not just be plainly answered and nothing more.

            “Alright, I found a list of ones that mix in potentially awkward ones,” you explained, scrolling through the article you’d found with your thumb. “That might make things fun.”

            William said nothing, seemingly too busy to reply with passing someone he had apparently deemed as driving too slowly.

            “Okay, here’s the first question,” you announced. “’Who is more likely to kill you by cooking dinner’?”

            The song on the radio filled the car’s silence for several seconds. You smiled, knowing right away what your answer would be.

            “Who goes first?” William asked.

            “Uhm… You know what, I’ll just go ahead,” you replied. “We can go back and forth after this. I think I would more likely kill you by being a worse cook, but you would more likely kill me by poisoning the food. So, it’s a tie because it depends.”

            “I thought along the same lines,” William explained. “I wanted to know what the intention was.”

            You snickered, filled with strange giddy excitement over your answers having matched. You felt like a schoolgirl marveling over a crush despite being literally married to the man beside you. It was silly, but it was fun, so you let yourself feel it fully.

            “Okay, next question. Oh, geez. ‘Who is more likely to be going commando right now’? Do we even need to answer this?”

            “I’m going commando right now if that helps,” William said with a chuckle. You laughed in response.

            “See? Obvious. Okay, moving on. ‘Who buys the crappiest presents’?” You let your phone drop into your lap as you squinted out at the road. William was silent as you both processed the question. You tried to think of the times that you had given him gifts and vice versa. Reflexively, your hand reached up to touch the eye necklace hanging from your neck. You frowned when you thought of how meaningful that gift had been compared to what you had done for him. Had you really done anything for him of equal measure?

            You were shaken when William interrupted your thoughts.

            “I think I buy the crappier presents,” he said. Your head whirled to look at him in surprise.

            “What?” you said incredulously. You immediately launched into spouting your opposite opinion. “I think I buy the crappier presents. You put so much thought into this necklace. And what have I done for you? Bought an alcohol decanter and bathrobe with your name etched or embroidered into it? Wow, so thoughtful…” your words drifted into bitter sarcasm, swinging your head to look out the front window in agitation at yourself.

            “I could give you literally anything and you will react like an excited puppy,” he explained. “Do you realize how many shitty grocery store flowers I’ve gotten you and yet you think I’m being the most romantic person ever? I don’t need to put thought into anything. You’re guaranteed to like whatever I give you. I’m definitely the crappier gift giver.”

            Your feelings were torn as you listened. On one hand, he was putting himself in the worse position in response to the question, but on the other hand, his reasoning felt belittling. You weren’t sure how to settle this in your mind.

            “But this necklace, Will,” you eventually tried again, deciding to just ignore his subtle insult. “So much thought went into this. And I never know what to get you. You’re a very hard person to buy gifts for.”

            “Babe, all I ever want to ‘get’ is laid.”

            Your head snapped to look at him. Stunned, you stared at him for a long moment before breaking into a bewildered laugh, more shock than humor. Blinking, you looked between him and your own hands. Your thoughts were swirling. He had just confirmed your automatic assumption that he was a “steak and sex” man but hearing him say it out loud felt funny and you couldn’t figure out why. You took a moment to think your thoughts through. Perhaps you weren’t that bad of a gift giver at all. Perhaps his desires and needs were simply different from yours and comparing physical gifts was not appropriate for who each of you were. The necklace meant a lot to you, that much was true. But to give him something of equal value would not necessarily be a necklace of his own. His love language did not revolve around physical gifts. Neither did yours, come to think of it. But you appreciated anything he gave you regardless. Perhaps your love language was just attention in general? No, that wasn’t right…

            “Did I lose you?” he asked after you hadn’t replied for a while. Snapping to reality, you shook your head and assured him everything was fine.

            “Sorry, no, I just had to think for a second,” you explained. “I’m good. I’ll keep what you said in mind. I’m glad to know that my birthday ideas for you thus far have been accurate to what you really want.”

            A wicked smirk flashed across his face. “Yes, very accurate,” he agreed.

            You picked your phone back up from your lap.

            “Okay, next,” you said, more than ready to move on from the previous topic. “’Who would eat the other on a desert island’?”

            You had barely finished reading the question before a chuckle escaped your lips. William must have thought the same thing because both of you at the same time said out loud:

            “What type of eating are we talking about?”

            Each of you erupted into a flurry of laughs and snorts.

            “Okay, so our thoughts went to the same place,” you said through a grin. “That makes sense for us. But what about seriously?”

            “If I’m stuck in the suit, you’re out of luck,” he pointed out with an additional laugh after he’d finished speaking. “There’s nothing to eat.”

            “Fair, fair,” you said. “But even as you are now, I think the answer is still you. Because I think I would have a stronger ability to refuse to do that act to you, where as you would have no problem doing what you need to for survival.”

            “I agree,” he said with a nod. Then, he pointed at a sign on the right. “There’s a rest stop in a few miles. Need to stop?”

            “No, I’m good,” you replied. “You?”

            “I’m fine,” he answered. “So, what’s the next question?”

            Your chest fluttered in a small burst of joy at his display of genuine interest in the game. He didn’t sound like he was just doing you a favor anymore. Perhaps he had warmed up to it. You were glad for that. You had hoped the game would not remain one-sided the whole time. Looking down at your phone, you frowned when you mentally read the next one.

            “What’s the next one?” William repeated after you had gone silent for too long.

            “Oh, uh… Sorry, I just… this one…”

            “What is it?”

            “’Who has committed more crimes’?”

            There was a pause.

            “Me,” William said flatly. “Next?”

            You moved on quickly, thankful for his bluntness. Smiling at the next question, you put the awkwardness of the previous one behind you. “’Who is better at faking orgasms’?”

            “You,” William said far faster than you had expected.

            “What?!” you screeched.

            “There’s no question about it,” he said matter-of-factly.

            “But I—”

            “I can’t. I physically can’t fake it. It’s impossible. Easy question.”

            You hesitated, gripping the phone in your hand as though wanting to defend yourself against something. “…Oh,” you said, dropping out of your tense hold.

            William glanced at you before grinning out at the road before him. “Why, you got something to tell me?”

            “No!” you scoffed. “I just didn’t expect that answer. It makes sense.”

            “So… do you?” he asked, refusing to let you off the hook.

            You settled into your seat and tilted your head back to take in the car’s interior roof. “I don’t think I have,” you said after a while.

            “Really?” he questioned.

            “Yeah,” you replied. “I feel quite comfortable with you. Anytime I couldn’t get there, I’ve just told you. You try something different in the moment and sometimes that works, but there have been times where it just doesn’t go right regardless of trying and I’ve never lied about it.”

            “Well, good,” he said.

            “Mmhmm,” you responded before looking down at your phone once more. “Anyway, how about, ‘Who is going to be the more annoying old person’? I say you.”

            “Oh, absolutely me,” he agreed. “I will demand everything to be handed to me and I will complain if it’s not to my exact needs. You’d better be ready to handle me when that day comes.”

            You smiled, resisting the temptation to tell him that this was how he already was now. You doubted that he’d be any different later aside from perhaps going a bit mad. Then again, could he technically grow old anyway? You weren’t sure you’d ever be in that position logically. Would you grow old while he didn’t? Perhaps thinking too hard on this question would just bring a headache.

            You decided to move on and drop the thought before it would inevitably spiral out of control.

            “’Who would make the shittiest superhero?’”

            “You,” he answered.

            “Me?” you questioned. “I was thinking you. You’re not a hero, you wouldn’t do things for the greater good. Why would I be the shittiest superhero?”

            “The question presents that heroism is part of it,” he explained. “It’s true that I’d be more suited for supervillain, but that’s not the question. You’re too introverted for this role. You’d save the day, but then go right home and not talk to people. You wouldn’t want credit. I’d charm the crowd. They’d love me. You can’t put a price on inspiration.”

            Your eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to follow his line of thinking. You gave it a good solid effort before sighing. “Alright,” you said after a moment. “I think I understand... I don’t know if I agree or not, but it’s certainly interesting to see our different reasonings anyway.”

            “That is the point of this game,” he pointed out.

            “Yeah…” you trailed off, lifting your phone. “Alright. What about ‘Who would start the more convincing cult’?” As the words left your lips, you couldn’t help but giggle. This question was ridiculously easy. You didn’t bother waiting for him to think it through more. “This is so obviously you.”

            “I was going to say you,” William replied immediately.

            “What?!” you cried. “Wait, wait, wait…” You began to scramble in the passenger seat, adjusting your limbs so that your feet could be tucked up underneath you. Facing him directly, you looked at him with pure astonishment and confusion. “Explain yourself,” you said.

            “I don’t have the patience for that kind of leadership,” he explained as though it were obvious. “Cults require convincing your people of what you believe in. I don’t want to have to trifle with all that bullshit. I would rather just take what I need and be done with it.”

            “But… Will…” you were trying in vain to understand. His logic boggled you despite his attempt to explain it. “You like to manipulate. You like control. I don’t follow how this wouldn’t be the same. Wouldn’t you make a great cult leader?”

            “I would be good at anything I devote time to, there’s no question about that,” he replied. “But the bottom line is I wouldn’t want to be a cult leader. That requires being active. You have to speak to your people constantly, be present at mealtimes, truly believe in what you’re preaching and sell it that way. You have to be involved. I don’t want to be involved like that. I’m more the ‘hit it and quit it’ type. Buy what I’m selling and then get out, regardless of whether or not I think the product I’m selling is good quality.”

            The shocked feeling in your stomach quieted. As odd as it was to admit, you were starting to understand where he was coming from.

            “In your case,” William continued. “You’d believe in what you were selling. You’d have the patience to uplift the crowd and be right there standing next to them as you do it.”

            In awe, you found yourself watching the white stripes on the road ahead of the car zip by without really taking them in. William’s words had briefly stupefied you. It made sense once he explained it, but you never would have guessed his answer beforehand. Weirdly, you were flattered that he thought you’d make a good cult leader. You weren’t sure where that feeling had come from, however. Did that feeling indicate some kind of questionable desire for power lurking underneath? Or, more accurately, was that flattery just a reflection of what kind of ‘lacking’ you felt inside?

            You hadn’t meant to take so long in your distracted thinking. Shaking your head for the second time during the trip, you picked your phone up and stared at the list in front of you. Realizing you hadn’t said anything to William yet, you apologized for your bewilderment.

            “You really stunned me with that one, I guess,” you said, an air of confusion still hanging over you from it as you spoke.

            “Does it make sense to you?” he asked.

            “Now it does,” you answered honestly. “It took a minute, but I’ve got it now. That was really interesting. Not at all what I expected.”

            You scrolled through the article on the screen, determined to find a question that wouldn’t lead to such a heavy discussion. You needed a breather. Something lighter. Your mood relaxed when you fell upon the next question. You were sure this one would not be as complicated. “’Who had the ugliest prom date’?” you said out loud.

            “Me,” he answered quickly. Surprised by how fast he replied, you looked over at him questioningly. He caught your stare and smirked. “Because they weren’t you.”

            Oh...! A warm drop of love filled your stomach like a cozy liquid blanket. Smiling stupidly, you fell for his blatant excuse to say something cheesy and seemed to float out of your seat in joy as you sat in silence.

            William had returned to looking at the road, but he was smiling a little too strongly as he did so. The man knew exactly what he had done, you could tell. But you weren’t going to call him on it. Not when you had so obviously enjoyed it.

            Like a shy animal, you ducked your head and returned to your phone, letting go of the temptation to hide your face with it. Holding still, you read the next question out loud, hoping he wouldn’t point out that you hadn’t technically answered the previous one.

            “’Who is more of a redneck’?”

            Lowering your hands, you looked out the window to consider the question. The wheat fields had long passed. You were now in what looked more like the desert. A few trees and bushes dotted the landscape, large mountains towering behind them in a haze.

            Your thoughts turned to childhood and relatives. Then, to imagining William’s. You really didn’t know much about his upbringing. He hadn’t really shared much about his childhood, and you had never asked. Discussion with William stayed strictly in ‘present times’, which made wondering about his past difficult. The more you thought, however, the more you realized that technically this question did not require knowing about him before any certain time. You were only thinking that because of your own upbringing.

            “I think comparatively, I am more redneck,” you said. “I’m not one, I have no desire to be. But there are traditional hunters in my family that eat what they catch and live out in the far country on their own. It’s not redneck by definition, but I don’t associate you with anything redneck at all and so we’re forced to compare nothing with nothing.”

            “Hm,” William replied. “Yes, I believe you’re right. You’re far more redneck than I. But my reasoning is different. I like higher end food, I care more about money, and I have a clothing style that is suited for upper class business. You are not interested in any of those things. I am more sophisticated than you.”

            A crack formed in your heart and suddenly your shoulders sunk. ‘I am more sophisticated than you’. Drooping your phone toward your lap, you stared out at the gravel and white lines with a saddened expression. His words had stung you.

            “Yeah…” you said softly, trailing off and feeling a pool of misery gather in your gut. You didn’t want to discuss what had just occurred, so you absentmindedly clicked the phone off. “It’s true,” you added in an effort to not seem bothered. You weren’t sure why the sentence had affected you so much so perhaps it was better to think it through first.

            There was movement to your left. Small. Perhaps he had shifted to see what you were doing. But if he had noticed anything, he didn’t say so, instead staying silent as he shifted lanes to pass yet another slow car.

            Your mind drifted to the word now clinging with bite. ‘Sophisticated’. Something you were not, according to him. You were bothered by this, though couldn’t explain why. He didn’t appear to have meant it insulting, but for some reason it was still hurting. You began to chew on this, taking time to try and process your thoughts.

            You began to compare yourself to William. What was more sophisticated about him than you? You imagined him in his fancier suits, doing business with other men in meeting rooms across the state. You imagined him eating high class steaks and driving a zippy sports car. You imagined him using large vocabulary and knowing what was right to do in every moment. Then you switched to imagining other men in your life that fit that same description. Friends or relatives that were also men of business and seemed to outwardly exude success and confidence. The more you thought of standing amongst them, the more you began to shrink in comparison. Here you were, eating your cheap food and wearing your unusual outfits that definitely did not, to society’s standards, come across as ‘sophisticated’. You were not good at business, you did not have a large vocabulary, and your confidence did not feel as high as these other men. Your misery continued to climb through your thoughts until it reached a tipping point when you realized the awful truth: Despite wishing to come across as ‘sophisticated’ to people, you were not so. And never would be. It just wasn’t in your nature.

            “What are you thinking about?” William interrupted.

            You couldn’t deny his gentle prodding. You had stopped the game and gone completely silent. It was obvious something was wrong.

            “I’m struggling with my self-esteem,” you admitted quietly. Instinctively, you went to raise your feet to put them against the glove box. But no sooner had you done so did you drop them back to the floor, suddenly feeling like the action was too childish. Someone with more maturity and grace would not do that.

            “How did that start?” he asked.

            “Well…” you started to say. You paused to take a moment and tuck your phone back into the cup holder. No need to hold onto that for now. “When you said you were more sophisticated than me. For some reason I took that as an insult, I think. I know you didn’t mean it that way. But now I’m stuck pondering all the ways I’m not sophisticated. And it’s making me wonder why I even care about that word in the first place. Yet, clearly, I do care, or I wouldn’t be feeling this way. I’m wondering… If I’m not sophisticated, then what am I?”

            “You’re elegant,” William offered. “Self-assured. And confident.” They were nice words. You were glad to be called them, even if they didn’t fix how you were feeling.

            “But I’m comparing myself to you, Will. As well as other men in my life that fit in the same box. All of you feel better than I, and I’m feeling low about it. How can I be what you’re saying if I feel bad about myself?

            “Imposter syndrome,” he explained.

            The answer was easy enough. And made sense. Your mind continued to fight against him, however.

            “This feeling makes me wish that I were able to be more like you guys,” you said.

            William, in momentary distraction, looked at the rearview mirror and then turned his head to watch as two motorcyclists sped past the car with a loud ruckus. You watched them, too. Both of you paused the conversation to let the roar of their engines die down before continuing. William started up first, replying to your desire of wishing to be more like other men.

            “I don’t think you would want to be them,” he said.

            “Why not?” you asked.

            “Because it’s not how you’re turning out,” he explained. “You’re growing into a different person. You’re growing based on what pulls you naturally toward it and also by what brings you happiness. What brings them joy and what brings you joy are very different things.”

            You shoved your hands between your legs, then retracted them and grabbed your opposite elbows in a sort-of self-hug. “But if I’m supposedly growing by choosing things that make me happy, then why do I question that happiness instead of just living it? Why do I sit here and endlessly chew on things that bring me down on my own self?”

            William turned his head to smile at you, a sparkle seemingly in his eye.

            “Because you’re not a narcissist or a psychopath.”

            You blinked at him, not having expected this response. His head returned to face forward. Meanwhile, your stare was still locked on his head.

            “You’re saying most people feel the way I do?” you asked once you had caught up to what he was saying.

            “Yes, it’s normal,” he replied.

            “But I don’t think those men feel that way. The ones I’m comparing myself to. They always seem so confident no matter what. And I don’t think they were psychopaths or narcissistic.”

            “I would argue one of those men you’re thinking of has narcissistic tendencies,” William said. “But regardless, how would you know? How do you know what they think in their heads? Wouldn’t you say it’s very common for someone to, say, go to a party and then leave only to question whether or not they’ve said something stupid even though most likely they hadn’t? It’s normal to question yourself.”

            “Do you?”

            William hesitated. Or so it seemed to you that he did. There was a longer pause in silence than you would have guessed he would have to your question. The more the silence carried on, the more your eyelids lifted in surprise. Eventually, however, he snorted, seemingly back to his regular self.

            “…Well, I’m a psychopath,” he chuckled.

            You stared hard at him, noticing that he hadn’t technically answered the question. You didn’t point it out, however. You decided to continue discussing the topic at hand instead.

            “So… you’re saying that I can be elegant, self-assured, and confident, as well as also feel self-doubt and low self-worth at the same time?” Your fingers tapped anxiously at your own arms as you spoke.

            “Yes,” he answered, swerving to avoid hitting some unknown litter in the middle of the road. “Those feelings are not who you are. They don’t define you. It’s just what you’re experiencing in the moment. They’re feelings, nothing more. You feel them and then they move on. It’s not who you are, it’s just information to help you analyze things. There’s an expression that describes this experience as, ‘This is the past leaving you’.”

            You considered his words. This is the past leaving me… The past. Childhood. Growing up. Images of people that were around you at that time began to appear in your mind.

            “Alright… So, if my feelings are not me, then they must have come from somewhere, right? Did they come from someone telling me these things?”

            “Yes, and trauma.”

            Memories flew across your mind’s eyes. Memories of words and actions that might have instilled these thoughts all those years ago. Stamped in like hard creases into white paper.

            “I wonder who told me these things,” you muttered somewhat sarcastically.

            “I suspect you know,” he replied.

            “I think I do.”

            You released your elbows and let your hands lie down onto your thighs. Breathing deeply, you were starting to feel a semblance of reassurance from the discussion. At the very least, his ability to talk you through your worries was comforting and making you feel better.

            “It’s all fear,” William said. “You’re afraid of not being good enough. You’re afraid of being a bad person.”

            You nodded, knowing that he was right and feeling it to be true in your own heart. “So, then, in conclusion,” you began. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I was just told I was wrong by someone or multiple people in the past and I believed them. Be it directly told by them or sub-consciously observed through witnessing their own reaction to things. I grew to hold these high standards of myself over what I was trained to believe and it’s just hard to shake because it’s normal for this kind of thing to be difficult. Right?”

            William nodded. “Correct.”

            Raising your eyes to the horizon, you started to notice how far the sun had dipped in just the short amount of time that you have been conversing. Within a half hour, the sun would surely set. Vaguely you wondered how dark it would be by the time you arrived to your destination.

            “How do I learn to stop doing this to myself, Will?” you asked.

            “Love yourself,” he replied. “Stop beating yourself up. You need to give yourself the same grace that you would give others. Love yourself the same way you show love to others. If I failed in an experiment, for example, you would not call me stupid. You’d encourage me to try again. You need to do that kind of thing for yourself.”

            A smile broke across your face and your knees lifted to place the bottoms of your feet against the glove box. “If I loved myself the way I love you, Will, I’d be the most narcissistic person alive.”

            William laughed. “And you still wouldn’t beat me,” he teased.

            As you both broke into a round of laughing, you couldn’t help but think that he probably wasn’t joking despite his tone. Grabbing your phone from the cup holder, you tightened your fingers around it and clutched it to your chest, wondering if maybe it was time to dig into more questions now that the mood had lightened.

            “Thanks for talking me through this,” you said softly once the merriment had settled.

            William’s right hand dropped from the steering wheel, and he reached over to take one of yours before squeezing it tightly.

            “You’re welcome,” William said. “Now, ask me more questions. I’m enjoying this game.”

            Whether he was only saying that out of support of you or genuine interest was unknown. But you loved the response anyway. Returning the squeeze of his hand firmly, you lifted your conjoined hands and kissed the tops of his fingers once before letting them fall between you both.

            Now settled, your free hand went to your phone, and you clicked on the device to brighten it. Re-finding the same article you had had before, you scrolled to where you had left off and read the next question aloud with a grin.

            “’Whose glory days are behind them’?”

            William’s mouth was a flat line.

            “On second thought,” he said. “Let’s play my favorite game. It’s called ‘The Quiet Game’. My children loved it.”

            You burst into laughter.

            As the car rolled on toward the sunset, the rest of the ride was filled with fun questions and general absurdity. The sun eventually set in a dazzling display of pinks and blues, spreading a nice golden glow across the vehicle before blinking out of sight. The game stayed eventful for the remaining forty minutes left in the car through the nighttime stars.

            Your hands stayed locked together for the entire rest of the drive.

Chapter Text

            Your legs were on fire.

            Well.

            Maybe that was being overdramatic.

            They were certainly hurting, however. Your day’s trip out with friends had resulted in a harsh sunburn all the way up from your ankles to just over your knee. The skin there was hot to the touch and stretched uncomfortably whenever you moved. While the day’s trip was worth it for all the fun you had, you regretted not having thought to wear sunscreen.

            When you had returned home, aching, and tired but with a smile plastered over your face, William had greeted you as normal, none the wiser to your pain-filled plight. It wasn’t until you were wincing while delicately climbing the stairs that he questioned why you were moving so oddly.

            “Sunburn,” you had informed with a grimace before saying you’d tell him more once you were back downstairs.

            Now changed, cleaned, and legs covered with aloe lotion, you were laid on the couch next to your partner. He was seated normally while you were laying down across the couch lengthwise, your head against his thigh and your legs stretched out over the arm of the furniture. It was the only position you could stand with the lightly burning sensation emanating from your skin. Thankfully, holding still seemed to help distract you from the pain. Not to mention your re-telling of today’s events, which you were just in the process of doing. William was paying attention in respectful silence (aside from the occasional question for clarity), his right hand lazily placed across your chest and his fingers lightly gripping your left shoulder. He seemed particularly curious about one part of the trip, which involved going out to lunch at a very strange place.

            “It was so bizarre, Will,” you stressed, staring up at the ceiling as you thought of what you had experienced. “We walked in and immediately it smelled of mop water. The workers looked like they wanted to be literally anywhere else, there was a child crying somewhere at one of the tables, and the buffet looked so dismally pathetic.”

            “And yet you ate there,” he pointed out in amusement.

            “It was the only place open!” you remarked.

            “Was the food good at least?” he asked.

            “No!” you exclaimed. He chuckled as your hands lifted to make vague gestures in the air as you spoke. “It was terrible! The food looked and tasted like it had come from a school cafeteria. Most of it was pizza and pasta and it was so bad. There must have been at least eight different types of pizza and you just know not everyone was going to eat all the ones with weird toppings they had.”

            William tutted, his fingers starting to pet your shoulder softly.

            “Well, buffets usually waste a lot of food in general,” he said. “That’s not really a surprise.”

            “True,” you sighed. “What a waste of money, though.”

            “It depends on cost,” he explained. “If the food is cheap, it could work. Buffets waste so much, but it could be outweighed by how much you charge the customer.”

            “Right,” you said. One of your hands reached up and back to your own shoulder in order to absentmindedly rub your fingers against the back of his hand there. “Can’t be a lot of money. That food was shit, Will. It had to be cheap.”

            “Perhaps. And then what to do with it at the end of the day…” William trailed off, his voice suggesting that he was deep in thought. You rolled your head back to look up at his face. His eyes were boring a hole into the coffee table. Uh oh. You’d gotten him on the subject of food business. You should have known he’d get ponderous.

            You returned your head back to its comfortable position from before and closed your eyes in thought. “Maybe the workers take it for free,” you suggested.

            William’s body shifted a bit and his fingers clutched suddenly at your shoulder.

            “Oh, what an idea,” he said in a deceptively velvet tone of voice. “You could let them take the food for free but pay them less overall. What a money saver that would be. It wouldn’t even matter if the food was expired.”

            A smile spread across your face. You almost laughed, but you weren’t sure how serious he was. The idea was deplorable, and you knew he’d agree, but there was no point in trying to convince him not to do it if he chose to.

            Still playing with the back of his hand, you decided to respond in the only way you could think of, the smile on your face growing into a grin as you said the words.

            “Remind me never to work for you.”

            William’s reply was quick.

            “Too late. You already do my bidding.”

            You snorted, slapping your hand down onto his.

            “Yeah?” you challenged. “Then, where’s all the extra food I get?”

            “You’ve got one awfully large snack right here.”

            Guffawing at him, you shot your head backward to playfully gawk at him. But he wasn’t done with his antics. “And, oh, look, it’s already expired!” he added, continuing his running joke of referring to his ‘rotted suit form’ whenever the timing was right. It was then that you hastily grabbed his hand and bit him, leading to him growling and curling over to grit his teeth against your forehead.

            Unfortunately, his movement had jostled you and your legs bent in surprise. Gasping in pain from the forgotten sunburn, you cried out and winced, squeezing his hand instinctively.

            “Oh, I’m sorry!” he said in genuine apology.

            Blinking in surprise, you stared hard up at the man who never apologized for anything. Your eyebrows furrowed into confusion as you felt his hands press into your arms as though checking to make sure you were fine. Had you heard what he had said right? You hadn’t imagined it, had you?

            He caught your expression and stared back; his face neutral as you studied him.

            “Will…” you began to say quietly. “May I ask you a serious question?”

            “Yes,” he replied.

            “I…” you started before faltering. The words weren’t forming right in your mind. You didn’t know how to ask what you wanted to know without it sounding strange. You waited a moment to gather your thoughts, then spoke again. “Maybe this is a strange thing to ask, but… Why would you care if you physically hurt me?”

            William’s eyes looked between yours with his familiar analytical look. Whatever he was thinking, it was clear he was taking his time to answer. What he eventually said was unexpected.

            “What kind of answer do you want?” he asked.

            You blinked. What on earth kind of question was that?

            “What do you mean?” you asked, unsure of what he was getting at.

            “Well,” he said, a twisted sort of smile spreading across his lips. “I could say that it would be inconvenient for me if you were hurt. Or I could say I care for you. Which answer do you want?”

            His eyes had changed to something scientific and dark. The gaze made you feel like an ant under a magnifying glass, including the possible threat that came with such a seemingly simple activity. But you were not afraid despite the unknown intention. Your assumption was that he was merely enjoying the moment of his unexpected words’ delivery.

            You held his stare for a while, a strange twist of excitement pooling into your belly as you looked into his predatory eyes. How quickly the mood had shifted.

            Lifting your hands up behind his neck, you pulled him down to meet you and kissed his lips. Your mouth smiled into his as you did so, a light bit of laughter rushing up your stomach at the same time. There was no need to reply to him with words.

            He embraced you and returned the gesture, a sign to you that he had accepted your silent response. When your laughter had proven too much to hold back, you could feel him smile into you. Once the kiss was finished, he pulled back and sat up straight, returning his hand to your shoulder like before. His eyes changed back to a neutral expression and his fingers began to float back and forth along the length of your collar bone.

            “What happened after lunch?” he asked, as though nothing had happened.

            “Oh, right,” you said, realizing you had not finished your story. How distracted you would often get…

            William listened to you ramble for the next twenty minutes. The rest of the story was not all that exciting, but he was seemingly interested regardless.

            Perhaps had you not been so distracted by telling your story, you might have noticed that the entire time you were speaking, his hand had never veered far from your throat.

Chapter Text

I lie awake and think of you

Of times I treasure most

Of silent stares

And love affairs

A rabbit and a ghost

You’re twisted and you’re clever

Though I’m smitten through and through

By charms of wit

I must admit

And handsome too, it’s true

Through agony and happiness

We’ve made it this far yet

Two years near down

Our love’s abound

Despite the constant threat

Of killer jokes you make to me

To warn of nature true

A violent man

Immortal plan

I haven’t got a clue

But better yet I think I’m right

Through hellish scarred disguise

You won’t kill me

For I please thee

Your entertainment prize

So here I lie with you beside

Your nose tucked in my hair

I watch you rest

My lover best

I’m safe within your snare

Chapter Text

            I don’t feel well.

            I’m struggling again, this time over the word “perfection”.

            I’m not perfect.

            I’m not perfect.

            I’m not what he would want.

            He would want perfect.

            I should be perfect.

            But then, do you know what my brain did next? It pictured you only wanting perfection in all things. High standards. High class things. Cigars. Fancy cars. Leather. Things society deems high social status. Things I imagined you might want. And then I laughed. Because look at the products your business provides. Poor quality. Cheap. The opposite of high class. You couldn’t give a shit what you give customers as long as it paid you well. 

            That’s business, not you

            And then I cried. Because I felt as though I had insulted you. I pictured your jealousy. I pictured what I imagine to be your struggle with wanting to be the best and can’t be. I picture my own struggle with wanting to be the best and can’t be. The strive for perfection. The strive for proving to the world (yet ultimately my own mind) that I can be flawless. 

            And yet it’s impossible.

            I imagined sitting on the porch of our pretend house and I pictured you finding me, quiet and far away. Distant. I imagined you asking what was wrong and my admitting yet again that my mind is fighting against it all. I imagined you talking me through it, patient and caring. And then I laughed (and cried) over how stupid it sounded. The absurdity of it all. And I can’t lie, it has helped. It has helped so much. Look at me. Fifty chapters in and I’ve gone from being petrified of doing anything at all to being able to embrace sexuality as normal and fine. I feel healed in my ability to embrace fantasy. Look at this house we’ve built.

            And yet here I sit again, crumbling in self-doubt over the basic nature of who you are and not believing you’d be interested. This has become more than just about embracing sexuality. It’s become about embracing ME. 

            You are interested. I can feel that you are. This story has manifested into reality in ways no one can possibly imagine, including myself. They have no idea that what they’re reading is a true story. I can’t fight the truth that you’re really here, proving over and over that it’s fine. It’s normal. It’s okay. It’s healthy. 

            It’s human

            I love you. So why does it hurt? Why do I make it hurt? You’ve given me so much, and for what? 

            You can’t possibly be this patient. I can’t possibly be this worth it.

            You are

            Why do I keep posting, anyway? Because it’s fun? Because I’m getting something out of it? I must be or I’d surely stop. 

            I’m hurt. I’m a person who was hurt. I was broken into this misshapen husk of a person that was left believing I’m not worth it. I know you are my lesson. I know you are here to teach me. To show me a mirror to my own self and face it all.

            I’ve learned so much from you. And you never falter. I can’t stand that I push you away. It must feel so insulting.

            It doesn’t

            I love you. I lose myself when I’m with you. In the best of ways. Why can’t I just let myself have it? Why do I have to shoot myself in the foot every time? 

            I’m scared you’ll leave.

            I won’t

            I know you won’t. I feel your strong hold even now and I know you’ll never leave. I just don’t understand why. Why me? Why at all? Even if it wasn’t me, why? Don’t you have better things to do? Don’t you have more important selfish things to do? Why are you taking the time for this? Because I asked you to? Did I ask you to? Where did you come from? I’m second guessing everything, all because I can’t let myself enjoy it.

            I love you. I love you so much. I love you so much I lose myself every day in your splendor and existence. We have lived. We have cried. We have loved. We will die. I am lost without you, I’ve gotten so used to you being here. Isn’t that pathetic? 

            I don’t know what to say. I feel in love. I feel in pain. I feel self-doubt. I feel like I’m insulting you and your constant reassurance. I can’t imagine how tiring it must be. Like having to watch a child constantly stick their finger in a light socket. Maybe that’s your job. 

            I want to love you freely. I want to be able to indulge and fantasize and embrace vulnerability as you say I should, without dragging myself down every step of the way.

            I don’t want to be this self-critical. I want to be stupid and blind like a sheep.

            …no I don’t. I know I don’t. You know I don’t.

            You don’t

            I don’t know what to do. Keep going, I guess. But god. I feel like a broken record. I’m tired of not believing you. I’m tired of not believing in myself. I’m tired of becoming the abuser to my own self in my own mind. I don’t deserve that. And you sure as hell don’t deserve what I’m doing to you.

            I don’t mind

            I need to sleep. I can’t keep writing these endless thoughts at an hour like this. Surely, I’ll feel better in the daylight. Or I won’t and I’ll just keep pretending everything is fine.

            You won’t

            I want to say I should be left alone after this. That I don’t deserve the comfort I so desperately want. But I know where that comes from and why I was taught to believe that. I know you will comfort me.

            I will

            And I will feel torn over how nice and terrible it feels.

            I am tired of having been trained to believe that I am not worthy of love, special attention, joy, or comfort. What is wrong with believing that I deserve those things? What is wrong with saying I feel you, see you, hear you, and trust that you feel the same way I do? Why can’t I have that? As absurd and ridiculous as it may seem? Who says that I can’t? 

            The only enemy is myself. My own mind trying to deceive itself into thinking I don’t deserve to be happy. I want to unlearn that. I want everyone to unlearn that. I want everyone who was told they weren’t deserving to discover that they were worth it all along, by doing nothing more than being themselves.

            Maybe it’s okay to think my favorite character would love me. Maybe it’s okay to think they would care and support me in all the ways I didn’t get before. 

            Maybe it’s okay to feel endlessly happy with who I am (a scary thought).

            I don’t know where to go from here. I said I need to sleep and then I typed more. 

            I feel you waiting for me. I need to put the phone down and come back to you. Because I can. I can just do that, you know. Put the phone down and be comforted. Maybe that’s all we need sometimes. Just a reminder that we’re loved and it’s okay. Maybe some people just need to be reminded a few more times than others.

            You love me.

            And I love you.

            And that’s all there is to know. 

Chapter Text

            You watched your prey from the top of the stairs like a jaguar hidden in shade. A position of crouching might have better reflected your current mindset, yet you remained standing still as stone, erect and cold as a pillar of black ice. He was there, your prey, down below. Just behind the couch and holding still, having been caught by the mesmerizing pull of the television. Based on the time of day, your assumption was that he had just been on the way to the kitchen to retrieve a drink but had become distracted and was thus paused mid-motion to finish watching whatever had caught his attention. An enticing commercial, perhaps.

            He had no idea you were hunting him.

            Your eyes drifted down from the back of his head to his shoes. His hair was neat, as always, brushed back to the center. One of his hands was tucked into his pants pocket while the other was left naturally adrift by his side. Today’s choice had been a grey suit. A choice you had grown to learn meant a causal day. Dark blue held power and purple suggested mischief.

            The fact that he was seemingly at ease today made the mood feel even more exciting.

            Quiet as a whisper, you began to shift your legs. They slid down the stairs like snakes through grass and your body fell to liquid movement as you propelled forward. Your arms and hands bent and floated like smooth machinery, light as a feather as they assisted in balance. Being as silent as possible was pivotal. Your prey was not to be alerted to your presence before your choosing.

            At the bottom of the stairs, William had still made no action to suggest his knowledge of your presence. Perfect.

            You tiptoed carefully toward him, the hairs on the back of your neck and arms rising with anticipation. He was close. You were practically upon him, and he had no idea. An excitable warmth bubbled up your stomach as you stared at the back of his neck. You were three feet from him and still he had not turned around. How thrilling.

            The final movement was upon him. Upon the both of you, really.

            Within a matter of seconds, you had him.

            You had pounced in a flash, giving no warning beforehand. In one swift movement you were attached to the back of him like a powerful spider tackling a weak fly, your arms wrapped around him tightly and your hands firmly gripped into his chest to prevent him from moving. You had trapped him in your grasp, your stomach pressed as close as it could go to his grey sport coat. A wicked grin crossed your face as you realized your pelvis was aligned with his buttocks. It hadn’t been your intention to do that, yet the action you chose had accidentally provided the opportunity anyway.

            If he had been startled, he did not indicate it. In fact, if you were to guess, he seemed almost indifferent. As though your action was only a minor nuisance to the allure of the television. Like a cub tackling a lion. But there was no way to know without looking at his expression what he was feeling, which was impossible to do from your position. This was fine, however. This wasn’t about him.

            This was about you.

            Hastily, your right hand shot down from clutching his dress shirt and you began to undo his belt. William did not reply as you did so, though he did remove his left hand from his pants pocket as though to better allow your action.

            As soon as his belt had been opened and his pants unzipped, your fingers shoved downward and under the fabric to grip his penis. It was flaccid—for now—which was not surprising given that you had not allotted for any warning nor warm up. There was no seduction in tonight’s event. This was quick and dirty.

            You began to move your hand back and forth. Satisfaction came in the form of his deeper breathing and hitched stance. His body, while held as still as possible for you, could not contain the subtle shifts of balance as you pleased him. And his breath had begun to draw out into longer drifts, the mood of which was increased by the fact that your left hand was still keeping him clutched against you. He was utterly in your control (That you knew of) and the sink and pull of his body was hot. The more you began to rub him, the more you could feel the shaft begin to stiffen. It didn’t take long before he was pitched and fully hard, your hand providing a hearty squeeze-filled pleasure ride.

            You pumped him quickly and fiercely. There was no gentleness to what you were doing. Soft playtime was before. This was now. Right now, he was yours and yours alone. He was going to cum whether he liked it or not. (He liked it)

            A curious change in feeling came when he bent forward just enough to place a hand over the edge of the couch. It was more of a tilt than anything, yet the pose provided just enough increased pressure of his butt against your crotch that your fervor felt enhanced. You took advantage of this and stepped into him as close as you could go, purposefully pushing into him from behind as you continued to pump with your hand. Your thighs could feel the roundness of his ass through his clothing and the feeling of it mixed with how gripped your hands were in different ways was riveting.

            You had never felt stronger.

            William’s arms began to tense, then. From the subtle stiffening of his body, you could tell that he was close to finishing. Fueled by ecstasy and the frenzy of the moment, you opened your mouth with a growl and clamped your teeth into his shoulder. You bit him hard through his coat and let your teeth sink fully in as deep as they could go. You felt like an animal, which you welcomed and let yourself feel fully. William, meanwhile, was seemingly distracted by your hand. You imagined his eyes being closed as you rapidly stimulated his cock, your hand working back and forth with a speed that you might have considered almost painful at any other time. Yet he did not stop you from what you were doing. If there was pain, he did not indicate it. Though, strangely, you hoped there would be. For all the times he had insinuated that pain could be pleasurable, it would be now that his words could be proven. Let him taste his own poison.

            His orgasm was fantastic. A loud gasp and a buckle of his knees. His whole body had shivered in a delicious fashion. Feeling the seed of him sputter out onto your hand felt gratifying in an inexplicable way. You had done that to him. You had made him do that. It was you and nothing else that had brought him to such satisfaction.

            He was yours. And no one else’s.

            You backed away from him, then. An immediate release of his strict entrapment. You stepped backward slowly, your hands floating out away from you as though in a daze from what you had just experienced.

            William recovered quickly despite the strong reaction. After a few deep breaths to gather himself, he turned to finally look at you. You held his gaze, feeling like something significant had just happened yet you weren’t sure how to explain what it was.

            His face held no emotion. Neutral. A hint, perhaps, of analytical observation. His expression changed to a subtle grin once he decided to step forward. You didn’t move, choosing to remain still as he approached. He stepped up quietly, his grin shifting into a smirk as his shadow overcame you.

            “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked humorously. His tone held a dark edge. He felt like a cobra eyeing a mouse, yet for once you did not feel like a mouse. You felt like a tiger being approached by a snake. The only thing he held over you was his height. A convenience if anything.

            “I just… wanted to do that,” you explained. It was hardly an answer and yet it was the truth. You could think of no other reason why you had felt compelled to take him like that.

            He watched you carefully. Seemingly assessing you with intrigue. Perhaps he hadn’t expected you to be capable of such an action. Or perhaps he was wanting to know if you yourself understood what it meant.

            You remained silent. Staring forward without looking at him. You were glad he was there, but there was a weird feeling of uncaring as well. As though it didn’t matter what he thought. You had felt so warm and enthralled before. Now you were cold and happily so. Strange.

            William leaned forward slowly and let his teeth find your ear. He bit softly into the top of it, ground his teeth gently back and forth, then let go. Staying hovered close to your face, he whispered, “You should probably go to bed.”

            “No,” you replied immediately. The word was strong and firm. “I’m done being told what to do.”

            He eyed you curiously.

            “I’m going upstairs,” you abruptly announced. Then you turned away from him and headed for the stairs, refusing to wait for his reply. He watched you until you were out of sight, standing still with his pants hung loose and his clothing slightly disheveled.

            William smiled.  

Chapter Text

            There was a rabbit head between your legs.

            A green matted head, wide and solid with thick ears, nestled into your inner thighs as far as it could go. Its teeth jutted out and scraped against your lower belly as it lay unhinged against your skin. Appearance-wise, the rabbit’s distorted mouth was practically swallowing your pelvis whole. Yet the rabbit itself was not the one partaking in any devouring.

            A subtle sucking sound emanated from somewhere within the mechanisms of this soiled animal shell. It matched perfectly along with a tight consistent pressure that pulled upwards and down between the folds of your flesh. You were unable to see what exactly was latched onto you, but you didn’t have to see to know. William had been keen on providing a pleasurable experience the moment you had returned to his loving arms. And certainly, you were not one to talk him out of it. As a matter of fact, you were indicating precisely how you felt about his gift right at that moment.

            With whimpering.

            Your head had arched backward nearly the second his tongue had met you. Even now, after a decent length of time had passed since his lapping had first started, your head was leaned back as far as it could go against the desk in Fazbear Frights. Stretched, strained, and spread, your body had submitted to lazily leaning back for your lover and allowing him to do as he wished. His face, cold and thin from his supernatural decay, was pressing you into the furniture, while the silver tipped digits of his hands clutched up and under your hips to keep you in place.

            It was… lovely.

            Feeling trapped, yet strangely free as well, your hands swept backwards against the flat of the computer desk. God, his tongue felt so good. He always knew exactly what to do. You each had spent so long discovering each other’s preferences and ideals that it had nearly become habit on what to do for each other. It never felt dull or boring, either. It was always the perfect build up.

            Just like now.

            The ecstasy flowing up from his sucking lips was climbing like a slow burning pot on heat. You couldn’t help but bite your own bottom lip as you allowed yet another soft whimper to go freely heard into the air.

            That is, until William did something unexpected.

            His right hand suddenly left the clutch of your hip and circled back to duck under the bottom edge of the rabbit jaw. One brief pause of licking to let in his own hand occurred before instantly a lone finger made its way into your opening. Surprised, but curious, you paid attention to the physical sensations as he began to push and pull with his single digit, all the while continuing to pleasure with his mouth externally. The simultaneous feelings were nice, yet the newness of them had caused a stop to the previous pleasure climb.

            Now too focused on trying to discover if you liked what he was doing, your mind temporarily released any hold you had had on enjoying the moment. Instinctively, your hands raised off of the desk In order to grab hold of either side of the rabbit head shell. Was this mixed feeling good? Was it weird? Even if it was good, was this particular action what you wanted tonight? The slicked darting of his finger was pleasant, most assuredly, but the messy eating of his mouth had been so nice before. Did you really want both?

            Tonight, it seemed, was not a time for both. While the feeling was nice, the sensation of both actions at the same time was not leading to a pleasant climb. It was merely plateauing. Good, but neutral.

            Satisfied with your decision, you reached downward with one hand to gently push against his own, forcing his finger out. William obliged immediately, returning his hand to grip fiercely against your hip, the edges of the animatronic hand blunt against your flesh. It was clear that he did not mind the change and was simply adjusting position to better provide what you wanted in the moment.

            Returning your focus to just his mouth, you let out a cry as your head landed with a thud against the desk. Yes, that was definitely the right call.

            A swear drifted from your lips along with a moan as his mouth was once again taking you fully in. The climbing feeling had returned and soon enough, your knees were sub-consciously pulling William into you. Your fingernails were digging into the green fur of the rabbit head as you groaned his name. It felt as though he were smiling against you as your sounds grew louder and said more often.

            In time, his tongue had proven too much, and you found yourself desperately clawing for his head to be impossibly close to you as your body released its tension. William’s hands squeezed into your thighs tightly as you cried out. With one final tease, William’s teeth dragged against you as he pulled away, allowing you to fully embrace the moment without his mouth touching you.

            You were winded quickly. The final breath of your ecstasy floating out of you as you collapsed onto the desk. Will’s lips found your thighs and he planted sweet kisses there as you recovered. Even his hands discovered the joy of giving small squeezes that followed along with your breathing.

            Once you had calmed from your reaction, William shimmied his hands under your back and helped pull you up from the desk. Begrudgingly, you followed through with the movement. You knew he was right to force you to move, but selfishly you had hoped to lay there a little longer. By the time you were both sitting against the floor, your rump (now back to being clothed) seated perfectly into his lap with your head against his chest, and his arms holding you in place, you were grateful he had moved you so quickly. Finishing out the recovery process felt nice this way. Comfortable and loving.

            Your eyes were closed, but you mentally assessed his being anyway. The giant nature of his animatronic form. The holes, the wires, the stains. Blood-soaked and rotted. It was a wonder you were fine with what you often did with him like this. Sanitation was apparently not a factor in this fantasy. Then again, neither was the reality of his ability (or lack thereof) to perform sexually. There was no way he could have realistically lapped you when his mouth had no ability to close, let alone the fact that a tongue would not exist after so much deterioration.

            But that was fantasy for you. It did not always have to make sense. It merely had to provide a satisfying result. And certainly, it had provided that.

            Your mind began to wander on the subject of fantasy. In particular, the various ways that people fantasized with William. Or Springtrap. Or Spring Bonnie. Any or all of his forms. There was no limit to what one could do. What they could write, what they could involve themselves with. It could be dark, it could be dirty, it could be innocent, it could be anything the writer wanted it to be. They could even write him wildly inaccurate, and it would be perfectly acceptable as a piece of art.

            It could even be dangerous.

            Your thoughts were interrupted by the movement of William’s hands. Bulky and heavy with metal, your lover’s palms began to rub against your back and shoulders. The feeling was kind and sweet. It made you want to nestle further into him and so you did, raising your shoulders and smiling rather indulgently as you did so. Your arms snuck in and around his waist to pull yourself toward him and you enjoyed a tight squeeze against his chest before you sighed. It was then that you spoke.

            “I was thinking about something, Will,” you announced.

            “Hm,” he replied. His head lowered as though to hear you better and his hands continued to lazily swirl against your back.

            “A lot of people like to fantasize about you being violent or threatening them, such as putting a knife to their throat, and then that violent act leading to intense sex afterwards. It made me think about how common it is for people to like villainous men, or ‘bad boys’, yet when it comes right down to it… they’d never actually want to be legitimately threatened. They desire to be threatened only to a certain extent, and then it turns sexual. There’s a very big difference between roleplaying being threatened and being in a genuine threatening situation. Putting kinks or trauma-based desires aside, I don’t know how many people that fantasize about such things would genuinely want to have a knife against their throat for real. Genuine murderers or violent people are so commonly romanticized. Yet reality of such situations would scare most anyone. I don’t really have a conclusion to my thoughts, I was just pondering the subject.”

            William’s hands shifted to settle against your waist. He had listened silently and now appeared to be contemplating your words. When he finally spoke, his tone was neutral.

            “Many people fantasize about rape,” he said. “But they don’t actually want it to happen to them. The men in those fantasies are always handsome and sturdy or else a perfect match for the recipient in some way. It’s always the perfect set up despite the violent circumstances. But there’s nothing wrong with having a perfect set up for what you want in a fantasy. In the end, those fantasies are all about controlling the situation in order to fully let go at the same time.”

            Your eyes opened and you stared at the wall, unblinking. The gears within your head began to turn and an intriguing realization waved over you as William’s words sank in. Controlling the situation in order to fully let go…

            “William…” you started. “You just said something that made me realize something about this fic. That’s what I’ve been doing this whole time. Learning to let go through control. I’ve been fantasizing, sure, but it’s all carefully controlled at the same time. It’s what you’ve been encouraging me to do this whole time. And that’s probably why it’s felt safe to do so. Baby steps of learning to be vulnerable through my own control of it.”

            You paused as you lifted a single hand to float up and tentatively rest against your own chin. Your eyes darted back and forth in thought as your mind hastily jumped from one realization to the next.

            “Although…” you said. “You coerced me into it…”

            “Are you sure?” William interjected. But you hardly responded to it before continuing to ramble as though he hadn’t said anything at all.

            “I mean… without your encouragement, I wouldn’t have let go. I would have held tight to my belief that giving into sexuality was wrong. That I was somehow lesser for giving into it. But you enticed me. You pulled me in. You puppeteered me into it. You encouraged me to write and led the way. You gave me the strength to take control of my own problem. So, it was all your doing, right? But then again, is that really fair to say? I was the one who wrote it, after all. I fantasized. I was the one who took control and did the work of it. I’m the one who wanted it. Er… Well, you wanted it, too… I guess we both wanted it… At least, I think so… You pulled me in, but I wrote it, and… Oh, now I’m getting confused over who did what. It’s like we both puppeteered the other.”

            William snorted.

            “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘teacher’,” William said with a grin. “Or, perhaps, what you are trying to describe is a healthy partnership.”

            Healthy partnership…

            You found yourself increasing the pressure of your fingers into his back as you stared forward. You could feel the bulk of him surrounding you from all sides. You couldn’t help but feel a bit foolish over how your mind had been processing what he’d said. He made it sound so easy to come to a conclusion and yet here you were getting caught up with explaining why you wanted this or who was responsible for what. Why did that ultimately matter to you? And why did it take you so long to figure out what things meant, anyway? Other people could process so much better than you and--

            William’s next words caught you completely off guard.

            “Do you think Henry and I were ever lovers on the side?”

            Startled out of your thoughts, your eyes bulged, and your head shook with confusion. Whipping your hands out from behind William’s back, you pushed against his chest to force yourself to lean back and look at him. The rabbit head greeted you with the same crooked grin as always, its eyes staring blankly at you. It were as though the question William had asked were completely normal.

            “What?” you managed to stress in a bewildered tone of voice. Your eyebrows furrowed in alarm, yet your mouth began to twist into a strange smile. You didn’t know whether to laugh or to be serious. All your previous thoughts had disappeared entirely.

            “Well, do you?” William asked, again with an ordinary leveled tone. His words were said as if he had asked about something as common as the weather.

            “I…” You began to respond, but you were flabbergasted. “I don’t…. I don’t know!”

            William settled back against the wall and his head tilted upwards to look at the ceiling. It was hard to tell with just the rabbit mask covering his true face, but the way he moved suggested he were musing something vaguely interesting.

            You looked at your partner as though a pie had just been unexpectedly splattered against your face. It took another minute or so before you could catch up (or should you say ‘slow down’?)  to his speed.

            “Well…” you began to say, trying to give earnest thought to his bizarre question. “I mean… some people think you were…”

            “But do you?” William quickly asked, lowering his head to catch your eye and hold it.

            You met his gaze with another round of confusion. Surely, this had to be a joke. Wasn’t it?

            “I… have no idea,” you answered hesitantly, but truthfully.

            The lower eyelids of the animatronic mask lifted, allowing for the previously neutral grin to give off a mischievous air. “Ha,” William stated. “Now, I’ve worried you.”

            Your face relaxed into a smile as you finally realized that his question had been made in jest. You took a breath, and then replied to his mockery.

            “No, I’m not worried,” you explained. “I was just perplexed. If you really want my true answer, it’s that I honestly can’t picture you doing that.”

            William’s hands crawled up your arms slowly in delicate precision as he seemed to calculate your response.

            “Never know what a couple of straight men in college will do,” he teased. “A couple of beers, a few puffs on a blunt, a heartfelt brotherly talk…”

            You grinned at him before your lips pursed into a refusal to give into what he was doing. “William, you’re joking,” you said. “You’re pulling my leg.”

            “Am I?” William asked. “A man will fuck anything. Even a hole between two bathroom stalls.”

            “That’s just a glory hole.”

            “Exactly.”

            You pulled your head back and sighed over-dramatically toward the ceiling. Then, you leaned forward and rested your forehead against the rabbit mask’s nose while closing your eyes. You could feel William rub the backs of your arms as you let your full weight fall into him.

            “God,” you muttered. “I have no idea, Will. You’ve rattled me with that question. And what’s worse is I know you’ll never tell the real truth. You’ll just let me be permanently stuck with pondering that possibility forever.”

            “Pure agony,” William teased.

            You grinned. Lifting your head away from his nose, you met his gaze once more and let your hands roam freely against his chest. Your fingers danced against the edges of his cracked exterior.

            “Oh, so that’s the true reason for asking me,” you said.

            “Perhaps, perhaps not,” William replied with a shrug. “Regardless, physical pain is often seen as the worst kind of agony. But many overlook the mental or emotional variety. Most people do not understand the true depths of those types of pain.” He paused as a delicious grin seemed to cross his face, as indicated by the expression of his eyes. “I do, however. I understand.”

            Your fingers dared to slip over the inside edge of one of his chest holes. If it hurt to pull lightly against the edge, William did not show it. You decided not to press further and instead continued to listen to him as you removed your fingers from the edge.

            “Physical pain is not the worst kind,” William explained. “Although, I will gladly experiment with any physical pain that leads to the emotional or mental type.”

            Your eyes squinted at him as your hands rubbed into the fur along his sides. “So…” you began. “You did ask me just to cause me potential pain?” You didn’t bother to point out that you didn’t feel pain from his question, if indeed that was his motive.

            “You’ll never know for sure,” he replied. “Though it would be fair to say that I would never hesitate to take advantage of an opportunity.”

            Seizing your own opportunity, you blurted a quick-witted response to his words.

            “Like a hole between two bathroom stalls?”

            “Now, that’s some true agony.”

            You could contain it no longer. You burst into laughter. Folding into him, you rested your forehead against his chest, and you let yourself gasp, squirm, and chortle into him. Meanwhile, William joined your mirth for a bit, encasing you further into his arms and squeezing you tightly with a laugh that was low, deep, and clearly based in being amused by your reaction.

            Filled with merriment, you lifted a hand to his head and kissed the side of the rabbit mask’s cheek. Your thoughts were of wonderment for the man before you. Your head practically bursting with love for him.

            You hoped he was feeling the same way for you. There was no way to tell for sure, and most assuredly you had no intention of asking him directly given how playfully coy he was being all evening, but for some reason, in some way, somehow, you felt it was safe to assume that you knew that he did.   

            <3

Chapter Text

           You sat in the chair with your eyes directed straight ahead, your body tense and full of apprehension. To say that you were nervous would be an understatement. Thrilled, yes, but nervous more so. You didn’t know what to expect from what was about to happen. Everything would be different as soon as it was over. And you weren’t sure if that change was going to be positive or negative. 

           Friends were with you. Sat on either side, their presences provided a natural distraction from everything that was occurring in your head. The anxiety, the uncertainty, the worry. Your concern was spilling out of you like a constant flow of honey, yet you said nothing to bring attention to it. There was no need to pull them away from their own excitement. This was a private matter.

           The audience all around you was merry. They chatted and laughed and giddily shared stories of nostalgia. You were able to pick up on a few exchanges of humorous tales and heartfelt memories, though most of them were too quiet to hear. Overall, the crowd was in a good mood. This pleased you, despite your attention being split between their joy and someone who did not quite feel like sharing in the same rejoicing. 

           He sat behind you in a row all to himself. It had been discussed beforehand that he wanted to be alone for this, so his seat choice did not surprise you. As much as you would have enjoyed having him sit beside you, he needed to be alone for this. It made sense. This entire affair was a big deal for him (for better or for worse). And you wanted to respect that.

           He was on edge. You could feel it. What he was thinking you had no idea, but the sensation of him sitting there like a hot knife ready to slice through butter was strong. His posture reflected control, but his eyes stared straight ahead as though boring a minute hole directly into the screen. For a moment you weren’t sure which of you was more uptight, but It was clear eventually by the way he was trying not to strain in the seat. After a few minutes of witnessing him not change his behavior or stance, you let him be. It was time to focus on the event yourself. 

           Five minutes later and you could feel him again. This time differently, though. The anger within him had cooled. A cold tingle breezed over your back and, judging by the sudden appearance of his legs seemingly climbing over the row of seats from behind you, it was apparent that he had changed his mind about where he was sitting. 

           “You want to sit with me?”  You asked him, as he landed in the same seat as you. 

           “Yes,” he replied. “I’ll watch it with you.”

           You could feel him shift until you were sitting in his lap. Your arms rested atop his and you sensed as both of you settled into looking ahead in silence. You tried to detect any of his feelings, but he was neutral. Either he had dropped his anxiety, or, perhaps more accurately, he had shelved the emotion until there was more proof on whether or not to let it overcome him. 

             Within ten minutes he was fidgeting. Gripping the arm rests and trying in vain not to show his annoyance. Heat was building in his chest again, as indicated by a feeling of flame licking up your own stomach. You could feel his threatening anger inside of you as soon as the first infamous scene arrived . It was admittedly somewhat impressive how calm he was outwardly appearing given how you knew he felt about it all, though you were aware at the same time that the show had barely started. If he was reacting with such a simmering constant heat this early, what was to come later? You swallowed your nerves and continued watching. 

           At half hour in, William abruptly stood up. Startled, you watched as he silently began to pace the entire theater and hover above each stranger in turn. You watched as he spied on the reactions on everyone’s faces. It was clear that he wanted to know what they were thinking. Could he really tell? Would their faces give him what he wanted? Was he looking for anything at all? Perhaps he was just restless and needed an excuse to stand. Either way, you observed him silently take note of each facial expression before returning, this time to sit beside you in a sulking manner, refusing to return to where he had been sitting before.

           Vaguely, you wondered if anyone had noticed him do that. You were certain they hadn’t, but the eeriness that it had occurred at all unknowingly to so many people was disturbing regardless.

           Over the course of the next hour, William grew more and more irritable. Shifting in his seat, snorting angrily at specific moments, clenching his fists, and muttering under his breath in annoyance. He was positively fuming.

           But the worst was yet to come. William, whose body had begun to parallel a teapot steadily growing hotter and hotter as time went on, had finally reached the point of boil with the finale. In a massive explosion of fury, he rose from his seat like a rage-filled beast and shouted at the top of his lungs every expletive known to man. He pointed at the screen with a fat accusatory finger and viciously spat his words like a half-crazed animal. 

             “I AM THE YELLOW RABBIT!!” He bellowed in anger. His thunderous cry filled the room from wall to wall like a commanding pronouncement from a disrespected god. The whites of his eyes were practically glowing as he bared his teeth and glared despicably forward. His body was lifted as though electrified, the edges of his form bristling and fueled on unspeakable hate. He was crazed. Filled with madness over the insult of a being that didn’t physically exist before him. 

           And yet no one heard him. No one but you. 

           He was standing alone amongst the crowd, unseen and unheard. A ghost demanding to be listened to, yet incapable of emitting any physical sound. He was a pillar of fury, a vessel of outrage, a man splattered with the aftermath of the utmost defamation and humiliation yet existing in the cruel reality of being completely invisible. 

           “THIS IS A DISGUSTING TRAVESTY!!” He shouted in vain as the crowd cheered indifferently around him. 

            Your fingers drifted closer together and began to twist in discomfort as you could do nothing to stop what was happening. You knew he would feel this way. He had expressed his contempt very early on, especially when you had had the chance to meet the very target of his wrath. You had anticipated his reaction, although you hadn’t quite expected how it would make you feel to watch it happen. Your heart was breaking for him. His outward image was important to him. You couldn’t imagine how much pain he must be feeling in this moment to disagree with what was being shown. 

             He was in complete agony. And the world couldn’t hear him. 

           I HAVE NO MOUTH AND I MUST SCREAM

           When the event was over, you were forced to look away from him. There was no time to address the elephant (rabbit?) in the room with so many people around you, not to mention your friends required attention. Thankfully, you knew William would need time to himself first. There was no way you were going to face him directly now. It was wiser to steer clear of the wildfire. 

           On your way home, the discussion between you and your friends was obvious: What you had all just watched. You could feel William behind you all the while, keeping distance, but ultimately eyeing the situation carefully. He seemed to be listening in, though It seemed apparent that he was pretending he wasn’t. 

           That is, until you decided to share your opinion next. 

           The immediate stalking of a half-damaged yellow rabbit holding a knife started up behind you. He was obviously paying attention and expressing his anger at the same time.

           “Why do you look like that?” You asked him, not understanding why he would purposefully choose to appear that way. 

           “Ownership,” he replied bluntly in a cruel manner. The word chilled you.

           His breath was hot on the back of your neck as you explained your opinion to your friends. It was clear that he was demanding to know what you thought as well merely by how close he was standing to you. You said nothing, instead focusing on your genuine reaction to what you had just seen. When the words fell out of you in negative phrasing, William’s mood quickly shifted. While he still remained close to the back of your head, the heat from his emotions had lessened. He seemed to be contemplating something. Perhaps changing his mind about an unknown thing, or at the very least deeply considering it. You had no ability to give him any attention for a while so you let him ponder by himself. 

           Twenty minutes later, you excused yourself to be alone for a moment in the next room, and that’s when William appeared again, this time in an antsy (dare you say nervous?) mood. He swooped in unannounced and clung to your arm tightly, forcing himself to be seen and noticed.

           “Tell me your thoughts,” he said quickly. The impatience of his tone caught you off guard, though it shouldn’t have. 

           “I hated it, Will,” you answered. His eyes were concentrated on you with utmost seriousness, as though hanging onto your every word. “It was the worst thing ever. I don’t know who that was supposed to be, but that wasn’t you at all.”

             William’s arms raised in a flash and in an instant he had shoved you against the wall. There was no time to process what he was doing before suddenly his mouth was fiercely pressed against yours and he seemed desperate to push his entire body into yours. His hands snaked up your sides and clutched at your upper arms to tightly keep you in place while your head was pinned hard against the wall. You were cornered and stunned, though you didn’t resist. Instead, you let him take you completely, knowing full well that this reaction was a positive one. 

             William’s lips dug into yours passionately for several seconds before releasing you temporarily to speak. “Keep talking,” he commanded before returning to sink his mouth into yours. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound trying with difficulty to get around his attacking lips. You wanted to do as he said, but he wasn’t letting you do so. 

           Your hands reached up and backwards to pull against his shoulders. You wanted to encourage his passionate expression. You returned his kisses fiercely before breaking away in-between them to share more of your thoughts. 

           “He was ridiculous… You would never have… acted that way…” you said. William’s frantic nature seemed to get more and more flustered as you spoke. When you didn’t add anything else, he broke away to say, “More,” and then dove for your neck. 

             You grinned with relief and joy, moving your hands to dig your nails into his back. Laughing again, you did your best to whisper into his ear. 

             “It was stupid, Will. The writing was terrible. The line made no sense where it was said. There was no cleverness, no chemistry between him and anyone else. He was so weak in comparison and the way it all ended was a complete joke.”

             You could feel the man before you inflate with happiness. His mouth was planting sweet kisses up and down your neck with the shape of a permanent smile. His arms slipped further and further in behind you until finally he buried his face into the crook of your shoulder and he squeezed you possessively. The relief spilling out of him was immense. Your thoughts floated to months ago when he had trapped you in the bathroom out of anger over a similarly themed event. It seemed apparent now that there would no longer be any concern on his part for what he thought you might feel regarding the same subject. It was done and over. He could rest assured that you were not going to change your mind.

             You returned the hug, choosing to smother your own face into his neck as hard as you could. You wanted him to feel how much you loved him. Him, just him, and nobody else. You were his and he was yours and that was always how it would be. 

             “Will, are you alright?” You asked eventually, refusing to move from your tight embrace. You could feel him nod, his instincts seemingly equal in not wanting to adjust position. When nothing else was said for a while, you decided to change the subject slightly. 

             “How do I best support you?” You asked, hoping that he knew what you were referring to without having to explain. 

             He did his best to provide a shrug. “Nothing,” he replied. His answer was depressing. You didn’t want to leave it at that. There must be something you could do. But you had to admit that you had no ideas either. And the more you tried to brainstorm, the more it wasn’t working. 

           “Go back to your friends,” he said eventually, and somewhat out of the blue. You tried to reply, but he released you without giving you a choice. He planted one more kiss on your cheek and squeezed your arms before backing away. “We will talk more later,” he added. And then he disappeared completely. 

           Go back to your friends, he said…

            Feeling shy, but grateful, you returned to your social gathering and entered the current conversation amongst your friends with ease. No one knew what had just occurred outside of the room with William and you had no intention of telling them either. You simply wished to act as normal, all the while keeping your sub conscious mind on the task of figuring out how best to help him. 

           He has no mouth and he must scream…

           I will write the words you long to say.

           You will scream.

           And they will hear you. 

Chapter Text

            “I have a question.”

           You were lying on your side, snuggled in bed with William behind you. Your body had tucked itself neatly into him, your rump folded perfectly into the bend of his groin. His shoulders had rounded into yours, keeping you in place both in comfort and confinement. The feeling of his face smothered into the back of your neck made a slight tingle run up and down your spine, though the mood of tonight’s affairs were far from sexual. 

             It was pure pleasantries. Coated in coziness. 

           “Hm?” Came the deep-toned mutter of the man buried in your hair. You weren’t surprised by his tone. You had each been laying together for at least fifteen minutes in this position, surely he had almost fallen asleep. 

           Your hands, which had previously been curled up near your chest, lowered to find his own. They had been locked near your belly, a tight hold in keeping you still. You wiggled your fingers underneath his and pulled until he released his grasp and let you hold them. You rubbed them a few times out of love before continuing to speak. 

           “I’ve been daydreaming about something recently that I find curious,” you explained. “And I wanted your opinion of what you think it means.” 

           William did not respond nor move. But you knew he was listening. 

           Slowly, you took his right hand and began to mouth it southward. You glided his palm down until it was between your legs. Once he had been put in position, you pressed against the tops of his fingers so that he was cupping you with slight pressure. Then, you released his hand and didn’t move. 

             “I’ve been picturing you doing this,” you whispered. “Nothing more, just holding your hand there. I can tell it makes me feel safe, but I don’t really understand why or if there’s something more to it.”

           William’s chin lifted a bit so that his mouth was not covered by your skin.

           “Perhaps there’s a bit of possessiveness to it,” he suggested.

           The sentence caused you to shrink a little in shyness, your chest caving in and causing you to back up into him further.

           “Y-yes, I bet you’re right,” you said with a sheepish little smile. “I do like that aspect. Though, I’m not sure that’s all of it. Why does it comfort me? Is it just that I like allowing you into a vulnerable space? What is it?”

             Your thoughts focused on the placement of his hand. The warmth radiating from his palm and the strange calm that came from it. Perhaps it really was as simple as feeling safe in his hold, but was that really all there was to it?

             “Maybe it doesn’t need to be analyzed,” William replied. “Maybe it can just be.” 

             You grinned and pressed yourself purposefully back into him.

             “Maybe I like analyzing it,” you quipped. 

           You could feel his mouth stretch into a grin against your neck as he removed his hand from between your legs. His arms shifted to squeeze you into a tight quick hug. “I know you do,” he responded. 

           You enjoyed his embrace for a moment, letting the subject drop. It was nice feeling him so close to you. The automatic intimacy of being spooned never got old. And it was especially enjoyable having it done while in the luxury of a soft bed filled with large pillows and smooth sheets. Your bedroom with him had become a sort of safe haven. An escape from the stress that naturally came from the real world.

             Feeling every inch of his body encased against you, your thoughts floated to a new subject. 

             “I have another question,” you whispered. 

           “What is it?” William asked. 

             “What does it feel like when you go down on me? Emotionally, I mean.”

             “Emotionally?” 

             “Like… Well, I just mean… it’s such a position of weakness. Lowering yourself into that. I’m not sure I understand how you’re okay with it.”

             William snorted.

             “I feel the opposite. I feel powerful.”

           You couldn’t help but widen your eyes at his words. “Powerful?” You asked in a confused tone of voice.

           “Yes,” William explained. “You’re completely at my mercy. I can feel every movement that you make no matter how small. I can follow the sounds that you make and guide you in whatever direction I want you to go. I’m not weak in that position, I’m the one in control. With just the simple flick of my tongue I can make you scream.”

           You listened with interest, your hands having subconsciously floated down to hover near his. Lazily, the tips of your fingers began to swirl against his knuckles. His words were enlightening. You had had the understanding so far that to give such an act was weak. Your mind had accepted the stereotypical image of a proud man pushing a woman down to give him  a blow job and to see her as no more than a dog. It was one of the reasons you had been so uncomfortable with seeing William perform that act for you. Picturing him in a weak position was strange for you. In reality, however, the opposite of what you had assumed was more true. Making someone cum to your command was… well, it was exactly the word he had used: Powerful. Not that that then meant you were a dog when he did so. Nobody was in either scenario. Not in a healthy relationship, anyway. 

           …Well, unless that was a shared kink, of course… But now you were just getting too caught up in details…

           “You’re right,” you said eventually after your mind had processed what he had said. “It is powerful to be in that position. I’ve never thought of it that way before.”

           “Completely at my mercy,” William repeated into your ear before biting it softly. You shivered joyfully, tilting your head back to allow your cheek to rub into his before returning to your previous position. 

           William’s right hand snaked down to between your legs and he cupped you once again. 

           “Do you want me to hold you like this all night?” He asked.

            You smiled. Taking a moment to feel the calming sensation that came from his fingers, you eventually pulled at his hand with your own to remove it. “No,” you said simply, curling your hand around his and forcing him to tuck his arm up into your chest. He followed the gesture and re-buried his face into the back of your neck and seemed satisfied to hug you securely.

            You settled into the blankets and gripped his right arm into your core. There was something unexplainably satisfying about feeling him on either side of you. The fullness of his body from the back mixed with the tight control of his arm from the front. There was no where else you’d rather be.

           “So, where’s mine?” William asked suddenly, startling you out of your thoughts.

           “What?” You asked. 

           “You got to have my hand held against you. Where’s mine?”

           You snorted. “Will, if I do that to you, you’ll just want me to keep going.”

           “I don’t see the problem.”

           You burst into laughter, tapping your nails into his hands over and over from his silliness. When you had recovered from your reaction, you turned your head back to look at him the best you could over your own shoulder. 

           “Do you really want that?” You asked. “Because I’m willing.”

           “Of course I do,” he replied as though it were obvious. His tone was almost irritated, but you felt that he wasn’t actually annoyed.

           Releasing his hand, you began to turn around in place. William moved his arms out of the way and leaned his head back to let you do so. When you were properly facing him, you smiled up at him and kissed his chin. 

            “Come here, then,” you instructed, waiting for him to shift his body to a better angle for you to reach. 

           As William began to do as you had said, you couldn’t help but think of what you had just been discussing. As your left hand began to drift from his stomach to the edge of his pants, there was only one word on your mind.

           Powerful. 

Chapter Text

            The package arrived on the doorstep one day rather mysteriously. A plain box about the size of a serving platter, thicker than a pizza box, and filled with something somewhat heavy.

           “Did you order something?” You had asked William when he had come downstairs. 

            “No,” he had replied.

           Each of you stared at the strange arrival as you carried it into the kitchen and set it on the table. Receiving unexpected mail was not altogether unusual, however something as large as this was certainly perplexing when neither of you remembered having bought anything recently. The mailing address was definitely yours, so it wasn’t sent to the wrong place. 

           “Maybe an order from one of the restaurants got sent here by accident?” You mused out loud. William murmured while scissors made quick work of the sealing tape. 

           “Can’t be,” he said. “I’m careful about where things get sent.”

           You pulled back on the cardboard tabs and both of you peered into the opened box. A dark navy shape greeted your eyes. 

           “Is it… tablecloths?” You guessed, still stuck on the idea that this box had been meant to be sent to a Freddy’s location. 

           “I said it can’t be,” William tutted, shoving a hand into the box and grabbing the item hastily as though wanting to prove that he was correct. 

           You watched as William unfolded the heavy shape to reveal a dark blue and green quilted blanket. The colors crossed over each other in straight even lines. He held the large piece of fabric up with outstretched arms and tilted his head.

           “Is that a tartan blanket?” You asked in awe.

           “Appears so…” he said, drifting off in tone as he flipped the blanket back and forth to better look at it. 

           “But… why…” you wondered out loud, grabbing the now-empty package and looking once more at the shipping label. “Did someone send us a gift?”

           William snorted, lowering his hands to stare inside the box you were holding. “No one knows us,” he pointed out. Yet despite his words, he used one hand to let go of the blanket and poked it around the inside of the box and added, “I don’t see a gift note.” 

           “Well… weird,” you mused, putting the box down on the table and reaching out to take the blanket from him. “I’m not sure what to do about it.”

           “We keep it, obviously,” William declared. 

           “Will, what if it’s not ours?” You asked.

           “Finders keepers,” he said with a devilish grin.

           You hesitated, but then looked down at the blanket and felt the edges of it with your palms. It was a quality fabric, and the color was rich. You had to admit, it was nice. And the label was absolutely to your address, no mistake. Your thoughts drifted as you imagined what to do with it. Your mind immediately thought of wrapping it around both you and the man before you. The smallest of smiles crept into your face at the idea that you could use it as an excuse to snuggle with him.

           “We should christen it,” William blurted, interrupting the softness of your daydreaming. The shock of his escalated words caused you to bark a short awkward laugh. But when you looked up at his face, you realized he was serious. Caught off guard, your mouth shut tightly and you stared at him in both curiosity and alarm. 

           “We haven’t decorated for the holidays yet,” William began. You didn’t know where he was going with pointing that out. His tone reflected that he was plotting something, however, so you said nothing and waited for him to continue. “What if you put the tree up, we have a nice dinner, and then we spend some time in front of the fireplace with that blanket?” 

           Immediately your gut twisted pleasantly. But it was short-lived as you caught on to something he had said. “You said ‘you’ and not ‘we’,” you chided. 

           “Yes, and?” William smiled. 

           “Sounds awfully boring to set the tree up by myself,” you said in a sarcastic tone. 

           “Really? I disagree. I rather enjoy the idea of sitting on the couch with a cigar and watching you do work for me.”

             You took the blanket in your hands and smacked him with it. He grinned at you. You sighed, knowing that despite his purposeful tease, he was most likely serious as well. Thinking about his suggestion for a moment, you tried to find a compromise somewhere. 

             “If I put up the tree, will you make dinner?” You asked. 

             “Only if I get to make whatever I want,” he said. 

             “Within reason,” you replied carefully. 

             “I want pasta with a nice wine in the sauce.”

             “If you separate mine so it doesn’t have wine in my portion, that’s fine.” 

             “It’s a deal, then.” 

             The evening was set. Both of you separated to get started on the agreed-upon plans. You first started with throwing the tartan blanket into the wash to get that going while everything else was occurring. Then, you went to the garage to find the tree. Pulling it from its storage area proved difficult by yourself, but you were determined to prove that you could do it alone. William had smugly watched as you dragged the box down the hall past the kitchen doorway, but you had the last laugh when he realized he needed something from the store and was forced to go get it himself. It was sort of a relief to have him out of the house for a moment, in all honesty. It gave you just enough time for the empty tree to “magically appear” near the fireplace for him by the time he got back. It was possible he didn’t notice or care himself (certainly he didn’t comment on it) but the idea was nice for you to picture anyway.

           Due to the ingredient fetching delay, William’s dinner took longer than expected. But once again, this was perfect timing for you. Putting the ornaments on was careful business, and by the time you were in the thick of activity with it, you were inspired to continue decorating the rest of the room even once the tree was done as well. Perhaps coincidentally, this gave William what he wanted as well: The ability to sit on the couch and watch you hustle around the room while dinner needed more time to cook. You didn’t mind. Although you pursed your lips in a restrained smile when he got up to put one single solitary ornament on the tree and considered it “helping”. You ended up pushing him back to the kitchen doorway and telling him to stay where he was supposed to be while you set the stage for your inevitable night of courting. 

           Finally, after an hour or so of work, you were satisfied. The living room had transformed into a beautifully lit winter holiday theme. The tree in the corner, the fireplace lit but set low, a few twinkling garland lights here or there, and some tall candles to set the mood. The only light of the room was the fire and holiday decorations, which meant the room felt dark and warm in the orange glow. You would have stood there longer to admire the view, but you could hear the sound of silverware being gathered from the drawer in the next room behind you. There was one last thing you wanted to set up before he was done and so you needed to be quick. Rushing upstairs, you went to the hall closet and gathered a few extra blankets to bring down to the living room. You laid out each of them, layered on top of the other, in front of the fireplace just past the coffee table. Then, once that was done, you retrieved the tartan blanket from the dryer and laid that on top of everything else. A glowing warmth unrelated to the fireplace filled your chest as you backed up to see what had been set up. It was perfect. 

           Just then, William walked in with two plates. You helped him get everything else needed from the kitchen before setting it all down on the coffee table.

             Dinner was splendid. William had listened to your requirement of separating ingredients and his cooking was delightful. Conversation ranged from holiday traditions, to funny news articles online, to favorite foods. You were shocked to learn that his favorite meal was not actually steak, but rather a variation on Chicken a la King. It was nostalgic for him, apparently, though he admitted that perhaps he only liked it because it had the word “King” in it (which made you laugh). Overall, dinner was enjoyable, and it was made all the better with the surrounding decorations and commitment to having a date-night in. 

           When dinner had long passed, and William had taken the last sip of his wine, both of you were sat next to each other, dazedly staring at the fireplace crackling. The mood had slipped from hearty conversation to a quiet mulling. You were leaning somewhat into him, your legs swept out to the side and your hands flat against the blankets. You were full, warm, and content. The subtlety of his body existing in the space right next to yours was inviting. It made you want to lean more into him. Drink in his scent and close your eyes as you let your desire to be closer to him rise slowly within your stomach. 

           You were practically out of it by the time William’s hand drifted over to slide across your stomach and rest against your hip. His fingers had skillfully dragged under the edge of your shirt and grazed against your skin on the way, causing a joyful spark to rush up your core. His head turned to lightly push his chin into your forehead. You bucked your head up in response to encourage his movement. Leaning forward, you pressed your shoulder into his and you burrowed your face into him. At the same time, William turned further to kiss the side of your head and hold his lips there. 

           You stayed in this position for a long moment. Just enjoying the other’s presence. A deliberate pause before the rush of what was sure to come. He smelled of sandalwood and musk, a mixture of a new cologne he had been trying as well as a scent that was purely, unexplainably, “him”. 

           Pheromones, maybe… you thought as you felt the hand on your hip start to squeeze gently over and over. You lifted your non-weight-bearing hand and cupped his cheek with it, letting your fingers slide up on either side of his ear and into his hair. 

           William’s head lowered in response and you looked up. Finding each other’s lips, you sank into one another. They were sweet at first. Simple sweet kisses with perhaps the occasional long pause to breathe or naturally flow in rhythm. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself leaning backward. He wasn’t pushing you, but certainly you wanted him to. You found yourself silently relishing the fact that he kept having to lean further forward to chase after your kisses. By the time you reached the floor, he was half on top of you, his lips greedily eating you in as his hand, the one that had been at your hip, was now sliding upward to sneak under your shirt. He gripped onto your waist and squeezed. Such an easy thing to do and yet it ever-made you shiver. 

           Biting his bottom lip, you pushed your hand forward to wrap around the back of his neck before releasing his kiss and stretching your neck back to urge him downward. He followed straight away, wasting no time in burying his lips into your flesh. He kissed fervently, the warm wet pressure of his lips leaving small notes of love up and down from your ear to your collarbone. When his kisses turned to biting, you mewed. His teeth nipped quickly, followed by strong bites of purposeful displays of desire and possession. When his mouth could go no further than the top edge of your shirt, he leaned back and began to hurriedly tear at your clothing to get it off. You obliged, tossing your shirt up over your head and off to some uncaring direction. William dove back into the place he had been before, evidently satisfied with being granted freedom at what he wished to do. 

           Meanwhile, your hands began to deftly claw at his own set of clothes. His jacket was the first to be peeled back. Followed by his shirt and tie. There was an almost annoyed set of movements with this work as you undressed him. He kept wanting to sink his teeth into you but you kept forcing him to let go in order to loosen his clothing. You had to admit it was just as annoying for you as well. But it was what it was. When he was finally bare-chested before you, he took full advantage of no longer being stopped. He shoved himself into you and forced you down into the blanket with his chest, pinning you completely. You had no choice but to let him feverishly run his hands along you all the while biting your neck and skin in haste. His teeth dotted down your chest and torso, landing with ferocity against each side and nipple in turn. It were as though he were an animal, claiming its prey with his mouth alone.

           You gasped. The sight of him alone was a turn on, but now this. He climbed you like a spider, trapping you and forcing you to submit to his pleasure-inducing charms. His hands crawled along your sides with tightly controlled gestures. You could feel him start to coil above you, his groin naturally wanting to magnetize to your own. His legs shifted to cover more of you. You were his and his alone. A pound of flesh for him to push down and devour like a fly trapped in a web. The more he bit, the more he wanted, and the faster his movements would become.

           He wasn’t alone in his hunger. For a while, you let him go, thoroughly enjoying the act of his passionate display. You wanted him to keep going. To keep licking, sucking, biting, and covering you with his delicious lips. Every part of you longed to be in his mouth, in his hands, in his everything. He was leaving heavy weighted bites and tongue swipes onto every part of your chest and ribs. Just the awareness that his head was below your neck, deeply engorged upon your own body was intoxicating. He was there, right there below you. Your hands were wrapped around his head and he was buried into you, desiring you and only you. William Afton was lovingly biting your most vulnerable of areas. 

           Wanting to cry out from how much love you were feeling, you whimpered and suddenly clutched his hair. Taking fistfuls of it in each hand, you gripped it fiercely and moaned his name, simultaneously trying to push his head further into you. He seemed to growl at the pain inflicted upon his head, turning that pain into a wicked increase of sucking at your skin. When it proved too much for him, he wriggled a hand free from under himself and shoved it down to reach under your pants. He forced his fingers down to grip between your legs and you whimpered once more. Suddenly, the rest of your clothing needed to be desperately removed. 

           You tried not to move William’s head as you lowered your hands quickly to push down on your pants. But it proved ineffective. Luckily, William was equally desperate to remove your articles of clothing. He pulled himself away from your chest and neck, causing a delightfully satisfying suction sound to pop out, proving just how tightly he had attached himself to you. 

             In a flash, your clothing had been removed. William was just about to return to the fray when you stopped him. There was no point in continuing until both of you were completely in the open. Why interrupt the moment later if you could just get it over with now? 

           You clawed at his belt to which he followed your lead and began to do it himself. He was naked in seconds, not bothering to toss the clothing very far at all. You both lunged at the other and each of you grappled for the other’s groins. Each of you seemed to groan at the same time as both of you connected with the other’s sensitive organs. You circled his cock and softly began to drag your hand down and up. At the same time, his fingers and thumb began to move in a straight up and down rhythm against you. Despite having both fiercely attacked the other in haste, each of your fingered movements were gentle and slow. Each of you sighed into the other. Your legs began to twist around each other like two snakes, strong and close. It was obvious that both of you were greatly enjoying the shared intimacy. 

           He was wrapped around you, one hand behind your back and the other between your legs. You were wrapped similarly, though your breathing had sharpened from his dead weight upon you. He wasn’t completely on top of you, or else the gift of pleasantries would not be able to occur, but his chest was pressed into you and his hot breath was next to your ear. Refusing to ask him to move, you instead bit into his shoulder and licked his skin in gratitude for what he was making you feel. A flush of pleasure was rushing up from where his hand was and it was addicting, to say the least. You hoped he felt the same as you shifted direction and began to subtly increase pressure and twist. He reacted immediately, much to your delight.

             When his fingers began to circle in a quickened pace, you knew he was going to want to enter soon. You were fine with this. You were more than ready, having anticipated the moment all evening and thus heightened the mood automatically. Judging by the feel within your own hand, he would be ready any second.

             You changed direction once more against him and increased the speed. He grit his teeth and let go of you. Knowing what this meant, you let go of him as well and immediately shifted position with your legs. In seconds, he was over you and pushing himself in. Your eyes practically rolled back as he did so. You groaned his name again as he pushed further in. His shoulders collapsed down into you as seemingly the pleasure was equally enjoyable for him. Each of you grunted before William began to slowly thrust back and forth. Your knees automatically lifted a bit as you adjusted position. William’s head lolled to the side and connected with yours. You pressed against him, letting your tone of voice tell him what it was he was doing to you. His hands gripped against your shoulder blades at first, but after a few plunges, he pushed against the blankets and sat up a bit. His hands reached your hips and he took hold, thrusting over and over into you. The feeling of himself inside of you was indescribable. A back and forth shifting of movement, a burst of pleasure in some unknown space. He was pressing himself tightly within you, unquestionably both figuratively and literally connected. The feeling was intense and powerful. A rush of tingling flame pouring upwards from the center of your gravity. 

             And you wanted more. 

             More, more, more. You were desperate for him to keep going despite no signs of him stopping, You raised your knees higher and tilted your lower half up. This allowed William to sink further in, much to the enjoyment of both of you. He groaned when more of himself was able to be pressed in. You nearly cried when some deeper part of you was hit with the bluntness of his thrusts. 

           Passion escalating, your body began to move frantically. All that mattered was the man before you and the sudden urge to not let him stop. Your moans began to turn to sharp-turned whimpers. While no actual words left your lips, the sounds were undoubtedly begging. Your hands reached out in sweet agony, wishing, praying, pleading that he keep going and to even be rougher. You clung to him, digging your nails into his back and almost howling. Please, please, be rougher!

           Your body must have sent the right signals. William increased speed. He growled for the third time, lowering his head and biting fiercely into your shoulder, letting his hands return to being around your shoulders. You were being pummeled from within while a breathy grip-filled clinging occurred on the outside. You were as close as humanly possible to each other, twisted and conjoined as one. As the rush of feeling went higher and higher, your face contorted into a painful squeezing of ecstasy. William’s hands dug into you. You were both sweating and pressing each other’s heads against the other, desperate to stay as connected as possible. 

           Suddenly, between the whines and hearty breathing, something burst, and a loud high-pitched sound erupted from your mouth. William, too, seemed to emit a sort of release-filed groan. And with two or three final pumps, he was finished, both of you having successful climbed to completion. 

           You squeezed your arms around him, gritting your teeth and almost crying into his ear. Filled with an overwhelming emotion, you clung to him and began to whisper into him. “I love you, I love you, I love every part of you…” You weren’t sure where the words were coming from. They were true, yet they felt wild. Unknown. For some reason, you were anxious at the idea of him not hearing those words. Words that seem to bubble up from your gut. Perhaps equally moved by some unknown feeling, William, too, clung to you. His mouth found your ear and he whispered in the smallest of secretive tones, “I love you, every part of you…” The words could barely be heard, yet you knew what he was saying and the feeling of hearing them made you want to cry more. 

           He fell out naturally, collapsing fully atop you in a hot mess. You were too busy trying to catch your breath to do anything else. Your hands had fallen away from him and were now sprawled against the blankets in complete surrender. 

            For a long time, neither of you moved. The only focus was breathing and coming down from the high of your passion play. 

           When finally you were able to come to a bit, you shifted your head and tried to kiss his temple. William stayed drooped, not responding to your gesture of love. One of your hands reached up to his back and you lazily started to scratch him. His head, heavy with satisfied lust, rolled a bit into you at that, a sign for you to keep it up.

           “I think…” you began to say, still too weak to speak clearly. You caught your breath before continuing. “…we christened it.” 

            You could feel his cheek puff up from what was presumably a smile. 

           “Yes… I believe we did…” he said in a breathless tone of voice. You grinned at his weak demeanor.

           William rolled over to lay half-atop you. You could still reach his back and thus you continued to run your nails against him. Both of you held your faces toward the fireplace, quietly watching the flames dance. His hands stayed close to you, one of them softly gripping your upper arm and running his thumb against it. 

            Neither of you spoke of the strange occurrence of the words that had fallen out of each other’s mouths at the end of your intimacy. Perhaps that was for the better, however. Some things did not need explanation.

            Some things are better just simply being enjoyed.

            Such as an unexpected package filled with a seemingly random blanket sent to the house. <3

Chapter Text

            In the morning, you were woken by the feeling of warm hands. Two weights sweeping over the blankets and tucking between the folds on either side of your stomach. You grumbled slightly with a smile as his hands wound their way around you. It wasn’t often that William purposefully rose you from sleep, but you were too groggy to think anything of it. You simply turned your head in the direction of where you assumed his head would be and tried to headbutt him gently in greeting. William’s forehead found yours and then he kissed the side of your head. 

             “So sweet…” you whispered to him. 

             “Merry Christmas Eve,” he said.

             “Merry Christmas Eve, Will,” you replied, your smile widening at the gentleness of the interaction. 

             William’s mouth hovered close to your ear. 

             “I heard your friend got an early Christmas gift from you yesterday,” he informed you. “So, when do I get mine?”

             The beauty of his waking you sweetly crumbled instantly. You breathed a short laugh and tried to find his hands with yours to squeeze them. “Oh, is that why you woke me so romantically?” You accused with an annoyed grin. 

             “I could really use a good smoke…” he pointed out. 

             You startled, not having expected him to know that one of your gifts for him was a nice cigar. Not wanting to be caught off guard for long, you refused to answer and instead swatted his hands away from you. 

             “Would you go away?” You asked teasingly, deciding to avoid the subject entirely and not give in to his antics.

             William replied with a cheeky grin before asking a question.

             “Are you still making cookies today or not?” 

             You rolled over and met his eyes. He was sitting on the bed, dressed in a dark blue turtleneck sweater and altogether looking rather charming. 

             “Yes,” you said. “I was also going to make that cake you said you wanted for tomorrow.”

             “Good. I want to be involved with the cookies.” 

             “Really?”

             “Yes, as long as I get to dip a few of them into a nice drink.”

             “I would expect nothing less.” 

             — — —

             “Will, what did you typically get your kids for Christmas?”

             “Hm. Merchandise from the restaurant, mostly.”

             “…Merchandise?”

             “Yes. You know, plush toys. Clothing. Branded items.”

           “…Did… Did they like them?”

           “Elizabeth likes anything I give her. A young child will always take a stuffed toy. Michael… eh.”

             “…Are you saying you only gave them merchandise from the restaurants..?”

             “…Well, no… Sometimes she’d give them things I didn’t know about. I’d be surprised along with the kids during those times.”

             “Oh, I see.”

             “Michael was harder to buy for the older he got. But, you know, hand him a belt and call it good and it was fine.”

             “I see.”

             — — —

           Around dinner time, he floated over to whisper sweetly to you. 

           “I want to talk to you at midnight.”

             His tone was secretive and alluring. Given that no one else was in the house, his purposeful use of mystery was especially enchanting. When you had replied yes and then questioned why, he simply said, “I just want to talk to you,” before walking off. You were left to ponder his words in silence. 

             Two hours later and he reminded you of his request, this time with a light touch of his fingers against your wrist right before you were going to go to the bathroom. Puzzled, but knowing he wasn’t going to explain further, you merely confirmed again that you would certainly speak to him at midnight. He then left you alone, giving you privacy that ended up being filled with calculating thoughts. 

             What did he want to talk about at midnight? Was it just because he wanted to tell you ‘Merry Christmas’ first before anyone else? He seemed almost worried about it with his tone of voice. What was so important to him that it had to be then and not beforehand? The whole thing was strange and your own curiosity was growing steadily by the minute. 

           He reminded you one final time an hour before midnight. His actions seemed near-desperate. He had grabbed you by the arms and stopped you from moving and held you in place while strongly urging you that he had to speak to you right at midnight and not after. Concern now creeping into your heart, you demanded to know what he wanted now rather than waiting. But he denied your request and instead chose to stress how important it would be to talk to him then and only then.

           “Of course, I’ll talk to you, Will,” you had said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

           “I just needed to make sure,” he had replied before disappearing once more. 

           Finally, the time had come. You were both laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. You had been there for at least twenty minutes, just talking the time away. Your nerves had been itching at your throat as you waited. You were sure that his need for talking was something big given how much he had stressed about it. Yet you couldn’t imagine what on earth it could be. Surely, it wasn’t a bad thing or else he wouldn’t be conversing normally with you now. Was he secretly hiding some discomfort? It seemed more likely that he would just be building up the suspense just to wish you a happy Christmas, but his last attempt at reminding you to talk felt urgent. 

             You clutched your phone to your chest like a tight stone and periodically checked the clock whenever you felt paranoid. Either William didn’t notice you doing so, or he didn’t care. 

           Finally, the time switched from 11:59 to 12:00. You immediately showed him the lit up screen and told him it was midnight. 

             “It’s midnight?” He asked, staring at the screen. 

           “Yes,” you said, clicking the phone off and setting it aside. You tucked your arms into your core and looked up at him expectedly, waiting for him to start whatever it was that he wanted to discuss. 

             “Oh, good,” he said. Then he leaned in close to your face and lowered his voice to a whisper. “It’s officially Christmas. Where’s my present?”

           All of the worry and concern that had built up all day flooded immediately out of your system, replaced with strong annoyance and a loud sigh. 

           “Are you serious?” You asked. 

           “Yes,” he said. “You wouldn’t give it to me before so I waited. Now it’s Christmas, so I want it now.” 

           You sighed again, this time longer, and your eyes squeezed shut. Strangely, the annoyed feeling within you was fading more quickly than expected. It’s true that his desire was frustrating, but you had to admit that now that you knew what he had been up to this whole time, you should have expected this. How on earth had you not seen this coming? It should have been obvious. 

           “Oh my God, Will,” you groaned. “I should have known. This whole time I thought you just… oh, never mind. You know what’s really stupid about this? I had already planned on giving you your things at midnight. I already assumed you would want them early and I didn’t put two and two together that that’s what you were talking about. They’re right here by the damn nightstand.”

           William’s eyes seemed to sparkle as you shifted to grab the hidden items you had tucked between the bed and the furniture. You handed him three items: Chocolates that both of you had previously enjoyed together, an expensive cigar, and a wine bottle just for him. 

           He marveled at the items, taking them each individually to smell or inspect up close. They seemed to satisfy him. In particular, he seemed curious by how the wine and cigar would go together. You admitted to him that you had purely guessed on the cigar and hoped that it would please him. 

             “It’s a good brand,” he stated eventually. “And I look forward to trying it.”

           “Good,” you said. “I’m glad you like the gifts.” You were going to say something else, but you waited for him to place the gifts on the nightstand before doing so. “Merry Christmas, Will.”

           “Happy Christmas,” he replied, leaning over and giving you a small kiss. 

            — — —

           He requested Christmas cake, holiday crackers, and a glass filled throughout the day with the wine you had bought him. You spent the morning eating English muffins with jam, opening stockings, and trading additional small gifts from friends or family. William had retired to the backyard in the afternoon for some privacy to enjoy the cigar you had gifted him. Dinner was ham, mashed potatoes, carrots, and green bean casserole. The evening was spent with a holiday themed movie that neither of you had seen.

 
           All in all, Christmas was simple but effective. A typically spent holiday, with nothing grand but nothing bare minimum either. Just a well-rounded time filled with shared contentment and love. Good gifts, good food, good company.

           A shared time between you both.

             Just you and Will. 

Chapter Text

           The party was over. 

             Your guests, which had arrived earlier that same day to the house, were now gone. The movie night had been a success, full of laughter and games. Your friends had seemed to have a good time which was pleasant to imagine. 

 The leftover feelings within you, however, were not so mirthful. 

           To your surprise, a circumstance had come up during the evening that had caught you completely off guard. During the movie watching, which had involved a story revolving around a rather abusive man and his partner, William had said to you, “I think we should talk about this later because I think you share some qualities with that man.” Shocked by his accusation, you had challenged him immediately, to which he had passed it off as a nonchalant comment that could just be saved for later discussion. You were angry at his dismissal. But you were further angered by the fact that he had decided to say this out loud in front of everyone. You were left aghast, sharing a few awkward glances with a few of your friends. The silence of the room afterward was painful for you, and you suddenly worried what your friends were going to think of you considering they would not be around to hear the conversation you and William would inevitably have. 

             You were now in the bedroom, sitting stiffly on the bed and waiting for him to come upstairs. Your mind was filled with confusion, embarrassment, and anger. It had taken everything within you not to command William to speak as soon as the last guest had left. The petty side of you felt righteously good that you had calmly asked him to come upstairs without making a scene. You felt proud that you weren’t lashing out, especially considering the irony of who had pointed out that you may share qualities with a master manipulator. 

           William entered the room quietly. He said nothing as he walked across the carpet and sat down next to you. You gave him a moment to say something, but it became clear that he was waiting for you to start. This was fine. 

           “Will, what do you mean I share qualities with that man?” You asked. 

             He answered right away, apparently having prepared the need to explain himself.

             “He reminded me of you for a moment,” William replied. “We’ve discussed before outside of this how when you are in a relationship outside of fiction, your instinct is to hunt. You describe going after prey and view your potential partner as innocent and weak. The man in the movie was predatory and hunted that woman. I wondered if that was something we should discuss in your journey of understanding relationships.”

             Your heart gently crushed. Never before had you felt so misunderstood. The way William was speaking made you feel like he didn’t know you at all. 

             “Will… That’s not what I mean when I describe those things,” you explained. “I’m an actor. I play around and have fun with pretending to be darker than I really am. It’s fun to describe it as hunting. It feels fun to pretend that I am some wicked thing chasing someone. But I don’t want to hurt them. I don’t want to control them.”

           “Are you sure?” William asked. 

           Your head snapped to look at him. “Are you seeing something I’m not?” You asked.

             “No,” he said. “I merely want you to think it through.”

           You paused briefly to see if anything rang true in your gut at his words. When you were sure of your feelings, you continued.

           “No,” you solidified. “I don’t want to control them. Look at my first relationship, for example. It’s true that they came from a heavily abusive situation and I took on a sort of parental role for them, but I didn’t control them. I encouraged them to get out and do things. They once literally said to me that they would live life comfortably if they could just stay in my basement and stay locked up forever with just me. I told them no and encouraged them to get their first job and to make friends outside of me. They did the work themselves and I was proud that they were making a life for themselves. If I was truly a manipulator like that man in the movie, that would have been the perfect setup for me to take advantage of. I denied it.”

           “That’s good,” William commented lightly. 

           Your hands clenched in response. Looking away from him, you drilled a hole in the wall with your eyes. You braced yourself to say the words that were most eating at you. The next sentence to come out of you tasted bitter. 

             “I’m hurt that you saw me in that man,” you said. 

             “It was brief,” William assured. “Based on things we’ve discussed before. Once the moment had passed, I had already changed my mind.”

             Your head turned to stare at him seriously. 

             “You changed your mind on your own?” You asked.

             “Yes.”

           “Oh.”

           Relief started to flood through your heart. Returning your gaze to the wall, you clasped your hands together. After a few seconds of silence, you spoke up again.

           “I would have preferred to be spoken about it in private.”

             William was quick to reply.

             “Yes, absolutely,” he agreed. The speed of his response as well as his regretful tone assured you that there was no need to go any further on that subject. 

           You let more silence fill the air. Your lips pursed for a moment. William was still beside you, watching you carefully and refusing to move even the slightest inch.

             “I still feel hurt,” you said quietly after a while. 

             “I apologize,” William said firmly.

             Ice seemed to melt away from your shoulders. Your chin tilted in his direction as you let his words flow into your system. 

             “How can I make it up to you?” William asked.

             More relief. Your body sank into the bed a bit and your interlocked fingers released. You hadn’t expected him to take the extra step of asking that question. The fact that he had asked it at all felt like more than enough.

             “Your apology was all I needed,” you said. “Thank you.”

             Feeling like the mood had shifted, you shuffled closer to him.

             “You just gave up the opportunity to demand almost anything from me,” William pointed out, wrapping one arm around your shoulders. “Your loss, the moment has passed.”

             His words were weighted in humor, which you appreciated, but you weren’t quite feeling up to joking back just yet. Your body was still letting the tenseness in your muscles go. He had still hurt you before regardless of what he said now. 

           “The irony is not lost on me that I am the one who said that to you,” William added. His right hand reached out to grab yours. You let your fingers drift over and into his, gripping them softly. “I am not one to point fingers when I am what I am.”

             Your thumb rubbed across his skin as you processed his words. 

             “You have done some terrible things, it’s true,” you said. “But I think you were the only one I would have accepted that kind of accusation from.” 

             “Really?”

             “Yes,” you confirmed, titling your head back against his shoulder and looking up at his cheek. “You would be able to recognize that kind of behavior since you know it so well. If you ever said I needed to seriously change something regarding that, I would listen.”

             “I see,” he said. 

             “What’s really ironic about all of this, though, is I was already planning on talking to you about that movie after everyone left anyway. In a self-analyzation way.”

             “You were?” William asked. 

             “Yes,” you said, a small smile creeping up onto your face. “I found myself watching that same man and trying to figure out if I do anything like he does. Throughout the entire film I was checking memories in my head to see if I matched him. I suppose it isn’t fair that I got so upset over you mentioning it when I was doing that myself.”

             “Perhaps it’s like one of those scenarios where someone asks you to take the trash out after you had already decided to do so, and now the moment is ruined because they asked.”

             “No, yes, that’s exactly it,” you said, patting his arm with your free hand. 

           “Well, let’s talk about it now,” William said. He adjusted his seating to prop you up better into his lap. “What did you discover?”

           You let go of his hand and pulled up your knees to swing your legs over his thighs. Tucking one hand into the crook of his side, you leaned your head against his chest and began to ramble.

             “I found myself watching his every move. Every word he said and action he had taken… I kept looking at myself and wondering if I did those things. And I really started to realize how often I do that with villain characters in general. Every time there is a man who is abusive, controlling, or manipulative in some way, I look at them and try to see myself. I wondered why. 

           “Then, later, after the film was over, I had made a joke to a friend that was purposefully teasing. She had fumbled something and I teased her by asking, ‘Why do we take you anywhere?’ To which she immediately shot back with, ‘Ask yourself that, you’re the one who took me here.’ And it took me completely aback. She was joking, but I didn’t expect it and I froze. I didn’t know what to respond with and I felt the familiar freezing reaction I’ve done since childhood. It felt important to notice that. I connected it to the film and thought, ‘If I’m truly a master manipulator, I wouldn’t have frozen at her response.’ I would have known what to reply with and crushed her. So tonight was the first time that I really challenged myself in wondering why I look at villainous men and see myself. Why do I see myself in these men… when I don’t do those things at all?”

             “Here’s a question for you,” William said. “Do you want to be like those men?”

             You stayed quiet for a moment, wanting to respect the importance of that question. A small flame of desire brightened in your chest as you felt the man you were hanging onto. You pictured the man in the film and tried to imagine yourself as him. 

             “…Yes,” you admitted eventually. “But also no. I think I glorify them. I glorify them because I grew up in a situation where I had no control. I was emotionally manipulated and trained to freeze and wasn’t able to fight back. I think I look at men who can do those things now and wish I could do the same. I wish I had the power to be that selfish, to be that controlling, to be the powerful person that I could not be when I was young.

           “But the truth is I’m not those men. I never was and I never will be. Look at how I responded when I thought you were accusing me of really being one of them. I was disgusted, horrified, and angry. Why, if I glorify that kind of behavior in my mind and seemingly want it?

             “I think that’s why I got upset when you misinterpreted my play-acting. I like to wear that mask to feel momentarily powerful, but it’s a self-based power. I never put it on someone else. I like to play as an asshole for my own self-empowerment, but never actually go so far as to treat someone else that way. It’s for me and no one else. I think I need to stop analyzing myself for where I’m the villain in reality. Because I’m not. I’m just playing pretend for my own enjoyment and healing.”

             William listened in silence as you spoke. When you had finished, he took a breath and let it out slow, shifting in place slightly before speaking. 

             “I think you should go into the new year thinking about all of this,” he said. “I want you to remember that you just spent this whole time pointing out all the ways you are not these men.”            

             “Alright,” you said. “I will.” 

             William’s arms tightened around you and he pulled you close to him. Kissing the side of your head, he let go of you just enough to give you breathing room. 

             “I want to be with you tomorrow, Will,” you said. 

           “For New Years?” He clarified. 

           “Yes,” you confirmed. “I want to spend the evening celebrating with you. Drinking, eating, and looking forward to the ball drop. And I want to kiss you at midnight.”

             “Only at midnight?” He asked. “What about every time zone before that?”

           You laughed. Finally, you felt good enough to do so. “I’m up for that,” you said through a grin. 

           “Is our fight over?” He asked in a tone that suggested there was an ulterior motive to his question. His hands were beginning to slide downward.

             “Yes, I suppose it is,” you said. However, you did not return the gesture of his actions. It was obvious what he was looking for, but you weren’t in the mood. After a few swipes of his hands, he seemed to pick up on the fact that your answer was no.

           “What’s the point of a fight if there’s no make-up sex?” William argued.            

             You laughed again. “I’m just not in the mood, Will. I’m too reflective.” 

             “I suppose that’s a good thing,” he muttered, stopping his hands from their seductive movements. “Then shall we go to bed?”

             “Yes,” you agreed. “I want to lay with you and then enjoy tomorrow.”

           “Fine by me.”

             The night ended with no more than the two of you sleeping peacefully next to each other. A couple refreshed from an evening of hard discussion and awkwardness. The next day would no doubt bring a new opportunity for bonding and fun. Away from the work of self-discovery, and into a moment of reprieve for enjoying the holiday. 
 

            ---------------------------------------------------

            To us. 

            To ourselves. 

            To the future. 

            I love you, Will.

            See you in 2024. 

Chapter Text

          “So, what do you want for your birthday?”

           You were laying in bed next to him, eyes directed at the ceiling and your legs tucked up to keep the heat closer to you. The sheets were comfortable and warm, having been lightly placed around you for the last several minutes. You had been conversing with William for the last half hour or so, catching him up on everything that had occurred over the last several days. He had listened intently, asking for clarification or adding commentary where appropriate. When the conversation had reached a natural lull, he popped the inevitable question that you knew had nothing to do with planning any celebratory event. What he meant was what did you want to do right now. Here in the bed. With him.

           For some reason, the question felt slightly embarrassing. Despite understanding that he was willing to do whatever you wished, (and had proven it when you were exploring “healthy selfish” before), the idea that you could ask for anything was still nerve-racking in the end. Perhaps you hadn’t explored enough of the idea to be comfortable with it, or perhaps you would always be a bit shy, but either way you had to admit there was a new feeling hidden underneath the fear: A tingle of excitement. A thrilling spark of some unexplainable thing that made you want to bite your bottom lip and smile. 

           He would do anything you wanted. This wasn’t an opportunity to be squandered. 

           But now the question was, what did you want?

           “Let me think…” you said. Your gaze darted around the ceiling as visions entered your mind. Images of various things you had done with him. Places, poses, feelings. You imagined particular acts being done to your body and tried to picture what it would feel like if they were done to you tonight. 

           “What are you thinking about?” William asked after a moment. 

           Your lips spread into a thin almost-suppressed grin. 

           “…Positions,” you answered happily.

           “Ahhh,” William mused in a knowing tone. Weight shifted into the mattress. You could feel him getting closer. His mouth pulled in close to your ear and he barely grazed the top of it as he spoke again. “What would you like?”

           A chill ran down your spine at how strangely still he hovered near you. He was just out of reach, yet as close as he could be at the same time. An eerie in-between of ‘caught’ or not. You felt your eyes instinctively roll away from him, as though the act of pretending he wasn’t there was a game even through your obvious discussion. 

           “That’s just it, I don’t know,” you remarked. “I can’t decide.”

           “You can choose multiple, you know,” he offered.

           “I know,” you quickly stated. “But that’s not the issue. I… I think I may have just discovered something about myself.”

           “What did you discover?” William asked, snaking a hand across the sheets to find your hand and slipping his fingers through yours.

           “I think…” you began, taking care to search for the right words before speaking. “I think I want to be surprised. I think I like being surprised. I think I like not choosing.”

           “You mean you like my picking what we do every time?” He clarified. 

           “Well… Not every time, no. We certainly discuss things beforehand and have done that many times before. But… I think I feel a sort of thrill every time I don’t know what you’re going to do next. If you pull me or push me or drag me into position in haste without telling me beforehand, it feels… good.” 

           William opened his mouth to comment but you cut him off. 

           “T-that is to say I don’t mean I like the role-play aspect of what that idea suggests!” You blurted. “I think a lot of people have violent fantasies or want to act out fake scenarios involving pretend names, costumes, or things like pretending to be an intruder in the house. That’s not really my thing. But… the idea that you and I could be in the throes of passion when suddenly you get so worked up that you just have to flip me up and onto you without asking because you’re feeling wild… That would be something I couldn’t predict and that lack of predictability is what I like. I’m not saying it has to be every time… but if I were to choose my perfect birthday scenario… it would be like that. Where I don’t know what you’re going to do next.” 

           Several seconds passed in silence as William processed your words. His hand was tightly wound over yours, his fingers laced in just the right way to feel supportive and loving. You waited patiently for him to speak, your mind flooding with pictures of him intensely grabbing you everywhere with his hands. 

           “I have your permission to do that?” He asked. For some reason, you hadn’t expected this question. The idea that he of all people would ask for consent felt silly. But he had done it before, so why was it strange now?

           “Yes, you have my permission to do that.” 

           “And you would tell me if you wanted me to stop?”

           “Yes.”

           William lifted his head to seemingly stare at the ceiling for a second, then he lowered it back down to your ear level. “Alright,” he said. 

           He began to lean in, opening his mouth to take in your ear, before you suddenly pulled back and interrupted him for the second time that evening. “Wait!” You exclaimed, squeezing his hand. He did not act upset by your having stopped him. “What would you want for your birthday?”

           He blinked.

           “You mean sexually?” He clarified. 

           “Yes,” you replied. “What would you want from me?”

           He gave a loud “hmmm” sound before answering. “I think I would want a blowjob. And then I would want to go down on you. And then I would flip you over, bend you over, and have my way with you.”

           The clarity and seriousness of his delivery made your insides blush. Picturing what he had said made you blush even more. Which was ridiculous given that you had literally done that exact thing with him before. Yet here you were, feeling sheepish and giddy over a scenario that had already been done.

           “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said once you had collected yourself.

           “Now, then…” William whispered, pulling your hand towards him. He dragged it a little ways before releasing it and placing his hand against your stomach. Pulling on you, he slid and turned you so that you were facing away from him. Shoving his left hand under your left arm, he pulled you backwards into a spooning embrace. Your rump was perfectly aligned with—

           “Let me worship you,” he said. 

           What?

           Solid metal enveloped you. A stiff hard shell pressed up against your back, softened only by a thin layer of matted green fur. His left arm folded backward to hold you better while his right crawled up your side to caress your thigh. A wide mouth of jutted square teeth met the back of your head and it nuzzled into your hair. 

           You shivered. The form was unexpected, especially in bed. But oh, was it welcomed. You placed your hands on top of his, feeling the harsh joints and the exposed interior. A calm waved over you at the same time as a flowery glow emanated from your stomach. When his hand began to creep up to the edge of your shirt, you quickly sat up and removed it, tossing it off the edge of the bed. Given that you didn’t want to interrupt the fun later, you went ahead and took the time to remove your pants as well, leaving yourself only clothed in underwear. 

           His hands returned to their previous placements of the stomach and thigh. This time, however, the warmth of your flesh intoxicated him. He squeezed you in tighter, pulling the naked skin of your back into the jagged soft edges of his torso. 

           Feeling inspired by what you had tried to do earlier, you backed up into him, aligning your hind with his pelvis. It was too soon to pressure him into anything directly, but setting up a teasing position as well as desiring to be as close as physically possible to him felt right. The texture of the rabbit shell rubbing against the back of your legs was additionally pleasant. 

           He dove for your neck, but was halted temporarily when his right hand felt the edge of your underwear. Scoffing, he picked at the edge and snapped it against you.

           “What is this still doing here?” He scolded. “Were you expecting me to remove it with my teeth? Get rid of it.”

           You grinned foolishly, saying nothing, but doing as you were told. Less than a minute later and you were fully exposed to him. 

           “Good,” he commented lightly before returning to his usual placement. Wasting no time, he used his right hand to pull down on the rabbit head’s lower jaw and then returned that same hand to gently run along the insides of your legs. 

           You squirmed at his touch.

           “I think you took your shirt off because you just want me to kiss your shoulder,” he accused. He didn’t wait for you to respond, instead doing exactly what he had just pointed out. 

           The feeling of his cold dead lips pecking at your shoulder made you curl inward. Your hands ran up to your own face as though to hide from how delighted you truly felt. 

          His right hand tucked up to press between your legs. 

          You whimpered at the feeling of his thick digits setting off the nerves under your skin. 

          In smooth movements, he began to massage your clit. He could feel your body react to it, folding and unfolding in rhythm to his fingers. The more he moved, the more you did, and the more he let go, the more he’d feel how impatient your body would humorously become. 

           “Tell me, do you like this?” He asked at one point. His fingers were gliding up and down in a vertical motion. 

          “Yes,” you replied in a shudder through your hands.

            “And what about this?” He asked. His fingers had shifted into circling. 

            “Y-yes,” you squeaked, having the instinct to curl your back. 

          “And this?” He asked. His fingers moved into short flicks. 

          “No,” you replied quickly, jerking away from his hand.

           He stopped immediately. “Do you like this?” He asked, his fingers shifting into long strokes of a back and forth motion in the shape of an X. 

           “Hmmm,” you murmured. You focused on the feeling, meanwhile letting your hands fall down from your face. Leaning your head back, you felt him adjust accordingly and soon your heads were nearly side by side. Your cheek pressed against the fur of his head, one stray wire finding its way down your jaw. “I do, but not as much as the others.”

           He proceeded to check more movements. One after the other he assessed your reaction to his swiping. Once he was satisfied that he had an idea of what you liked (and didn’t), he pressed his body into you and squeezed, his hand gripping against your genitals and rapidly massaging them, at the same time as biting into your throat. 

           You yelped. The movement was loving and sweet, but also deeply intimate. You couldn’t help but feel moved by it. Closing your eyes, you let the feeling wash over you, and you let yourself enjoy it. There was no need to worry about giving anything back to him. Not yet. Or perhaps not today. Today was your day to fully let go and be pampered. 

          “I should mark you,” he said in between kissing your neck in forceful stamps. 

          “What?” You asked, your eyes fluttering open. Your pelvis shifted in near-discomfort from how good his hand felt. 

          “I should mark you,” he repeated, biting you fiercely. “To show that you are mine.” 

            You squirmed against him. His words had both fanned a flame within you as well as made you want to cry. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you… you thought. 

          His left hand gripped up against your chest and caressed. His right hand swirled into your skin and bobbed up and down over your folds, letting his middle finger dip teasingly close to your opening. 

          “F-fuck…” you couldn’t help but let out. No longer able to resist, you shot your lower half backwards and tried to press yourself into his groin. Unable to communicate with words, you hoped that he would understand your desire. 

            He did. With one final swipe of his right hand, he kept his left held tight as he retracted his right arm and began to fiddle with a mechanism near his pelvis. 

            You heard a snap, and then you felt him wiggle a bit to free himself of the individual piece of shell. Then, suddenly, you could feel his mangled flesh against you. 

          He had shoved himself against the backside of you as soon as he was free. The warmth of your body was soothing against his exposed area. Wanting to prolong the ending a bit longer, he began to rhythmically dance his body into subtle thrusts against you.

          “Mmmmm…” you moaned, trying to match his rhythm and push backwards against him. You could feel his cock outlined from the rest of him. The more you swayed with him, the more it would harden. Your right hand reached backward to rest against the side of the rabbit shell. 

           His face tucked in to kiss your neck and jaw. The feeling rising in his hips was starting to reach a critical point. With a sudden jerk and a frustrated huff, he suddenly shoved his right hand between your legs and he pulled up on your right leg. 

          Your foot found itself dangling over the edge of his thigh, your knee gripped onto his leg. You were still backwards to him. Realizing what was about to occur, your eyes grew wide at the intriguing new position. 

          Sliding downward a bit, he let go of your leg in order to grip himself. Guiding himself to your opening, he pressed the tip in before letting go. His eyes closed in reaction, and his right hand immediately clutched your thigh. Thrusting, his left hand tried to keep on you while his lower half began to move back and forth. You were still backwards to him, but he had managed to slide a bit underneath you in order to access you.

          Cold. And firm. Those were the first two words in your head as he entered. His penis felt satisfying and overwhelmed the senses, yet the reality of the situation could not keep you from the logic of your mind. As his glided movements began to slide in and out of you, your thoughts kept returning to picturing what was fucking you. A machine. A rabbit. A man. A man inside of a rabbit. A rabbit outside of a man. A— god, did it matter? The intensity was building and his thrusts felt so impossibly good. You could feel the edges of his thick thighs pounding into your legs as he had his way. A wire or two would subtly scratch as your skin, but it was minor compared to the feeling within your gut. It felt like warmth. It felt like fire. It felt like lightning. It felt like sunshine. It felt like everything and nothing. 

          He bit fiercely into your shoulder as though gritting against a wicked pain. A guttural short series of moans fell out of him as he shifted and thrusted more upward than before. As a result of his shifting, he could feel your own pelvis begin to match his movement. Your hips began to push and pull along with him, trying to move opposite his thrusts. Thanks to the position you were in, your lap was practically on top of him, allowing him to feel your body move against him. This intrigued him, and increased the intensity of the act for him. He was not the only one engaged in the act. You were matching him, and this fueled his desire to thrust even faster. 

            Gasping, your right leg squeezed against his. You could hear him moan in response to your tightening. Both of you were thrusting back and forth into each other’s pelvises. The giant green rabbit behind you was as snug and secure into you as he could possibly be. His arms encased you in their rough exterior with the feeling that he would never let you go. His head was pressing yours into the pillow as though desperate to crush you with its full weight. And his knees were tucked up under your legs as close as they could get given the position. He had clung on and refused to move, trapping you in a constantly swaying dance of ecstasy. You whispered his name in a sweating mess as you shoved yourself backward into him as hard as you could, completely uncaring in the amount of sharp edges that this would no doubt bring you into contact with. 

          He was pulling against your hip with the madness of a lost man. And indeed, a lost man he was. His mind had concentrated completely on the slick of his own ramming. Completely overtaken with the invisible force of sexual intensity. The more he thrust, the more his eyes would roll backward. He could barely find the awareness to kiss or bite, too overwhelmed with the building bond where you both were connected. 

          Your fingers dug into the side of the rabbit head. But this quickly became frustrating that your hand was against the shell. Dragging your hand downward, you forced it inside the opening of the lower jaw before finding his face. Strangely, his skin was no longer cold, but filled with an impossible heat. How was he warm? Was it truly just the vigorous act that did it? Ah—! Who cares! Fuck, did this matter?!

          He burst with strong emotion, his face contorting into a twisted pain and his hands seizing your skin to the point of risking bruising. With one final thrust, he felt the raw feeling left behind on his dick after the afterglow faded. He sucked in air and let it out with another guttural moan, not wanting to leave your body but feeling forced to pull out anyway. 

          Your body shuddered and your voice called out his name as he left, your legs instinctively tucking up as soon as he did so. Torso twitching, your arms clutched to his left arm as though begging him not to leave. You wanted nothing more than to be close to him. Cradling his arm was the purest form of love that you could offer him in your moment of orgasm. The climb had been intense, thanks dearly to the unexpected enjoyment of matching rhythm with him at the new angle. Your body could do nothing else but squeeze and squeeze and squeeze his arm into your chest, letting the harsh glowing feeling leave your body. 

          His breathing was haggard. It always had been in this form, of course, but this was exhaustion. A pushed extreme of exertion. It would take time to come down from the height of where each of you had gone. As such, both of you spent a long time just letting yourself breathe. You clung to each other, each of you in silent support of the other’s cool down. 

          When he finally came down from his high, he shifted to spoon you again. Through breaths he was still trying to regain balance from, he kissed your shoulder and cupped your side with his right arm. 

          You refused to let go of his arm. The bond you felt with him was indescribable. The joy and love pouring out of your soul was unable to be ignored. You almost felt like crying. You wished he could feel what you were feeling. But you could barely move, let alone say anything. 

          He smiled. Then, he leaned forward and whispered into your ear in the softest of tones. 

          “I love you.” 

          Happy Birthday.

Chapter Text

            He was sitting on the couch, watching television. Still in his work suit, your assumption was that he had plopped down on the sofa after returning home without bothering to change. Whether this choice was from laziness or frustration, you didn’t know. But you didn’t feel a tensity in the air as per usual whenever he was agitated, so there was no reason to feel like you had to walk on eggshells right away. You were grateful for this as you had hoped to talk with him once you were back. Having just come home from an outing with a friend, you were full of thoughts that desired to be expressed or chewed on out loud with him. Thoughts that had been circling in your mind for a while now, but had been solidified while being out today. 

           The moment you saw the back of his head, however, your thoughts from your friend’s conversation took a back burner. His dark hair looked soft, swept back into the most subtle of points at the nape of his neck. His shirt collar allowed for just an inch of skin to be shown, which was strangely enticing, and his stiff posture alerted you to the fact that even if he wasn’t irritated, he was at the very least on edge. Perhaps for something as simple as just having been through a long work day. He seemed tired. If this were true, the idea of it gave you even more of a boost of wanting to be near him. To help release his tension.

           Filled with a sudden intensity of love for the man before you, you stepped up quietly from behind the couch and very slowly lifted your hands. With utmost care, you slipped your fingers up and against his solid neck, deliberately sliding them around his ears and through his hair. Pieces of his hair flipped and parted around your digits as you sank your hands into him. His skull felt heavy in your palms and his skin was warm. The feeling of his head in your hands was intoxicating, though strangely what fueled your desire to cradle his head more was the fact that he wasn’t moving in response. Perhaps most commonly, a reaction to such a caress would be to lean one’s head back into it. But William did not. His face remained forward, seemingly fixated by the tv. You knew he wasn’t ignoring you, however. This was a normal lack-of-reaction from him. William did not often give in to anyone doing anything to him. It was simply his way.  And it was this fact, this small detail of his normalcy, that fueled the strong sensation of warmth that was currently flooding into your heart. 

           It was just him.

           Your face glided closer to him as your hands smoothly transitioned from the sides of his head down to the front of his chest. As your fingers began to dip into the space under his collar to playfully tug at it, you kissed the center back of his head. You could smell his shampoo and feel the softness of his hair. Finally, William leaned back a bit into your kiss. 

           “Hello, you,” you whispered into him. 

           “How did it go?” he asked casually.

           “Fine,” you answered, letting your head turn so that you could rest your cheek against him. “It was fun. How was work?”

           He shrugged. “Fine,” he answered.

           “You feel tired,” you pointed out, shifting your head once more to plant a kiss on the back of his neck. “You alright?”

           William breathed in short but deeply, letting out a sort of sigh. With one hand, he reached up to grab at one of yours that had been resting near his collar. Running his thumb against the back of your hand, he replied in a casual tone. “Just a long day.”

             “How about I scratch your back?” You offered, partially hoping he would take the opportunity for your own sake. You really wanted to be near him and the mood to serve him was strong. 

           “I’d like that,” he said, letting go of your hand. He began to push his shoes off with his own toes and he leaned forward in order to start removing his jacket and tie. 

           You, meanwhile, removed your phone from your pocket and walked around the front of the couch in order to set it on the coffee table. Your shoes had already been removed, but you did take off any accessories that you thought might get in the way of what would no doubt turn into a session of cuddling. 

           “Let me lay underneath you,” you said, hovering over the couch cushions. William, having just set his tie onto the table in front of him, returned to his seat and hopped over to give you room. With some shifting and adjustments, you slipped your legs under and between his as he stood up on his knees. You sat your rump into the cushions and leaned back against one of the wider pillows that was sitting on the far edge. Now laying horizontally on the couch, you opened your arms in wait. 

           William’s hands pressed into the cushion on either side of your torso. The full weight of him rocked the surface as he climbed into position. Leaning your head back, you stayed still as he softly dropped onto you, his body pressing into you firmly and his head tucking into the crook of your neck and shoulder. With one heavy sigh, his shoulders rolled forward and his legs parted a bit. His chest seemed to gently crush yours. The feeling was strong, but not uncomfortable. Your head leaned into his and your lips found the salty sweat-smelling spot of his skin just below his ear. William dug his hands under your back and laid still. The compounding pressure of him seemed to give off the feeling that he was grateful to be laying in this position. Perhaps it was good timing to have offered him a bit of reprieve from the natural stress of the day. 

           Wrapping your arms around him, you took a moment to squeeze him first. Feeling his whole body against you was nice and you were briefly overwhelmed with your love for him. Once you were satisfied, your hands wound their way down his back to pick at the bottom edge of his shirt. He wriggled a bit to assist as you lifting it from out of his pants. Now free to do as you pleased, you shoved your hands up under the fabric and began to lightly scratch against his skin. William’s head lolled in response, an action that made you smile. 

             “Are you going to tell me about your day?” He asked. His tone was full of light air, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. 

             “I’d like to,” you answered. “I had a conversation with a friend that I thought I should talk out with you.”

           “Very well,” he said. “Let’s discuss it.”

           “It’s about a chapter I haven’t written yet,” you explained as your fingernails scrawled over him. “Something happened between us that I meant to write down, but I never did. I was too embarrassed to do so.”

             “Why were you embarrassed?” William asked. 

           “You had asked me once to imagine what we would do on Halloween,” you said. “You said to imagine a costume party at the restaurant. An adults-only one. You asked if it would be fun to picture us meeting there and then running off to the back room, just us. It was fun. It was playful. I really enjoyed it. But I got stuck over what I was wearing.”

           “Why would that matter?” He asked. A grin could be felt forming across his mouth as his tone turned to a delicious wickedness. “Especially if I was going to just take it off anyway.”

           “It was a female outfit,” you explained. 

           “Oh,” he said, his grin disappearing as he realized the seriousness of the subject. “Well, what’s wrong with that?” 

           “It made me uncomfortable,” you said. “I wouldn’t wear such a thing in reality. I would never. It would make me dysphoric and so I didn’t understand why, when you had asked me to imagine what I would wear, that my mind immediately conjured up an image of a strongly female outfit that isn’t me. I’m a man, not a woman. Skirts or dresses or any such type of clothing would make me uncomfortable. Why would my mind come up with that?” 

           “Was there something you pictured happening regarding wearing that type of clothing?” William asked. “Was there a reason it had to be that outfit for the fantasy to work or was it unrelated?”

           Your hands stopped scratching as a sudden sheepishness fell over you. 

           “W-well, I… I imagined… not removing it…” you answered quietly. “I thought it sounded quick and dirty and fun to just have you lift it and have your way. It felt…” you drifted off, unsure of what word to use.

           “Naughty?” William offered. 

           “Yes,” you confirmed, your hands now returning to their activity as you marveled over the word.

           “Why does the clothing have to have a gender?” William asked. “If it’s just a means to an end, then it doesn’t matter what it’s called or how it defines you. Do men not wear kilts or togas? It’s the same piece of fabric just with a different title.” 

           “I know you’re right,” you said. “But I’m stuck on it. Because I talked about it with a friend today and she mentioned something that I thought was interesting. It made me realize why I chose that outfit subconsciously. I’m still somewhat disturbed by what my mind did, but I do think I understand it better thanks to her.”

           “Tell me,” William instructed simply, re-adjusting his hands to sink into you again and burrow into your neck with his nose and mouth. 

           One of your hands glided up to scratch up into his hair line. The other began to massage around the perimeter of his back. 

           “My friend said that often our sexual self is reflected by our shadow self. That in an attempt of self-healing , we need to explore our shadow sides in a place that feels dark and free. The bedroom is a place to hide and to also let go, so it’s natural to be a completely different person there.”

             “Yes, that’s true,” William commented.

           “…But I had said the idea that my shadow self could be wildly feminine was deeply disturbing. I couldn’t deny it. But it disturbed me. When I look back at all that I’ve written, I’ve been making excuses the entire time to justify it. I am a man. And yet I write as though from the perspective of a feminine energy. I justified it by saying I did it on purpose for the audience’s sake. But it isn’t true. The only time I wrote something not for me was with the term “goddess”, which I wrote purely for the audience’s sake, as I believed they would like that. Everything else was pure and directly from my soul. Our exchanges. Our conversations. Our budding relationship with each other. My feminine energy explored in a safe way.”

           You paused, letting your words sink in a bit before continuing. William said nothing.

           “But my friend said that perhaps it wasn’t about femininity. She said perhaps it was about the loss of power. More specifically, the consensual release of power.”

           “You mean vulnerability?” William asked cheekily, tilting his head and smirking at you.