Chapter Text
He’s been watching her for months. His dear. His little skittermouse.
Always going, always quick, place to place with efficiency and an awareness he looks forward to subverting when he finally takes her.
Even from streets away, he can see the sunken depths of the circles beneath her eyes. Perpetual. Unforgiving. Seemingly bypassed through sheer force of will and bottomless anxiety and the coffee he watches her steal from anywhere she can get it. A gas station, a Starbucks with a line out the door that makes it easy to swipe someone’s mobile order, sometimes even a careful hand as someone sets down their cup for a brief moment on a bench. She takes what she can get.
Soon, she will take him, deep in every hole. It’s lovely to think that she has no idea what’s coming.
She is beautiful, he thinks, in her skittishness. Always desperately afraid of something— what exactly, he can’t be sure. But it doesn’t matter.
His cock swells every time he imagines that fear turned on him.
He watched over time as she went from a small studio apartment and several college courses and work at a garage and an acquaintance or two, to missed classes and more shifts and sleeping at a women’s shelter. Then a different one. Then the apartment of a shifty looking man. That didn’t last long, and soon she was oscillating; one shelter, then another, sometimes broken up by a night on the floor of the garage—at least, he assumes so, since he’s never seen more than a single ratty old chair in his secret visits.
He’s watched her break, slowly, torturously, and he can’t wait to finish the job.
Of course, it would be nice if he didn’t have to end things. But it’s not like she could be released back into the wild once he finished with her.
No. He would give her purpose, and give them both release.
————
He waits as long as he can, underskilled hands holding a plunger as he waits. He’d prefer not to drug her, far more comfortable with a knife than a needle, but she’s not as easy to coax as the others. He had to stop finding them through his job, too suspicious once more than one woman disappeared.
She is even more beautiful up close, freckles and pale skin begging for new marks to add to her collection. Sad, panicked eyes he wants trained on him. She’s moving between places today, the path unmarred by passersby.
In the end, it’s almost too easy to step out of the alleyway, feign a bump into her shoulder, and deposit the needle into her neck. It’s ridiculously quick, and a hand over her mouth muffles a yelp of surprise.
She’s so light as he bundles her into his car, taking her home. Her final resting place.
————
His source told him she’d be out for hours with what he gave her.
Apparently, he needs a new source.
They’re halfway to his house when she starts to wriggle in the backseat, unintelligible murmurs escaping her.
Ben does not usually panic. He is a smart man, cool, collected, with a steady, high income deemed unnecessary by his trust fund. He can filet a chicken or a man without breaking a sweat.
But he likes to plan. And this was not in the plan.
He pulls over, an empty gas station providing enough cover for him to retrieve another plunger.
At least he’s an over preparer.
When he climbs into the backseat, she’s still mostly out, and he has to resist the temptation to just pull down her worn out jeans right then and there. She looks so peaceful and blissed out and he’s waited so fucking long to have her. But he can’t risk it.
He settles for a brush of his knuckles down her cheek, and her murmurs turn to a chuckle.
As he prepares the sedative, he watches her snuggle deeper into the blanket he’d wrapped her in upon their first real touch.
Then, she forms words, a sing-song tone.
“Cooooozy. ‘M so cooooozy. Goooooood blanket. Soooooooft.”
Her voice is sweet and accented and panic-inducing because she’s supposed to be passed out. It’s also making him hard because he wants to hear that gorgeous voice begging him to stop.
Her eyes are still closed, so she doesn’t see the needle coming.
Her lullaby ceases, replaced with soft snores that are nearly as sweet.
He wills his erection away, and continues to drive them to his salvation.
————
His home is secluded, as he prefers it. He likes his privacy. He needs it, for his preferred extracurriculars.
Sometimes there are willing women, ones who will act out what they think is his fantasy. But it’s never quite right—they fight too hard, or give in too easily. They have no spirit, no strength of will. It gets boring.
Even the unwilling ones have been—
No.
No.
They are enough. They have to be. Otherwise, it’s all for naught.
Otherwise, what was the point?
He can’t risk getting bogged down in semantics, can’t risk wondering why the thrill had worn off, why it just wasn’t enough—
No.
Rey. She would be enough. For a bit. For now. Until he needed another.
But already she feels different.
There’s no time to contemplate the feeling, though. Not when he finally has her in his bed, warm and pliant and all to himself.
He strips her, slowly at first, in an attempt to savor the moment. Their first time. There will be many more before he’s done with her, he knows. He will not deprive himself of the chance to hear her scream.
But there’s something about this, too. Knowing she can’t resist, no matter what he chooses to do to her. Her face is soft in sleep, perpetual frown lines and tightened jaw all relaxed thanks to his care. She should thank him.
He never did grow soft again after her murmurs in the car, which means the second that she is naked and sprawled out for the taking, he’s stripped and inside of her within 30 seconds. It’s a tight fit, perfect, warm, a vice grip. He can nearly pretend it’s on purpose, that she’s gripping him—
No. He is taking it. He is taking her, and she has no say, and he loves it. He does. It’s getting him off, the slow drag of his cock inside of her, her brow starting to furrow, breaths coming a bit faster even with the sedative.
Then, she opens her eyes. This time, she does not sing. She looks half aware, her mouth making a perfect little “O” that he wants to thrust his cock into. Perhaps next time.
How could he think that he wanted her passed out for their first tryst? Her initial look of shock sends a rush through him, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s pulled out, flipping her over on her stomach before entering her again, pressing her cheek into the pillow.
He must be imagining the fact that it’s easier to slide in now.
He can still see her face like this, just enough, eyes half lidded, little pants of breath pushing out between squashed lips and a bent nose. Then, she starts making noises, and it’s as if everything locks into place.
Rey is finally beneath him, writhing in agony—he feels his cock swell more than he ever thought possible at her pained cries. She’s strong enough to push past his induced haze, but not strong enough to resist him.
And now, she’s stuttering “don’t, don’t, don’t,” and he nearly comes right there, until he hears her go on—
“Don’t stop.”
His thrusts cease.
What the fuck?