A/N: Hello fellow Ninja

This has 0 things to do with NinjaGo. My apologies in advance

A few of these chapters have already been posted in my Random Ish book. WhoOps

Also, a few of these chapters get kind of, like.. intensely described. I'll try to give a warning beforehand

Xx

Goddamn phone...

We were in the middle of something and there it goes, ringing and vibrating, skittering around on my wooden nightstand, bound and determined to ruin what little bliss I was having this morning.

I rolled off Billy, allowing him to gingerly pluck my phone up, "Password?"

My response was an irritated gurgle as I fluffed my pillow under my head, keeping my back facing him, "Ignore it."

The ringing continued, and Billy pressed the phone into the blankets to stifle the noise, "Password? The faster you tell me the faster we can continue with-"

"The password is Billy09," I grumbled, and when I felt the man start smirking, I kicked back my leg, hitting his hip, "I had a kitten named Billy a while back, you jackass. Not named for you."

"Sure," he dragged out the word and picked up the phone, "Who's this?"

He sounded defensive, causing me to flip back over and face him, mouthing 'who is it?' at him. I knew Billy had read the caller ID. The only response I got, though, was him stretching out and wrapping his free hand around my shoulders. I allowed this at the moment and let him drag me into his side, "I do believe I asked you first."

Such sass. I draped my left arm over Billy's waist, right above where the blankets rested as I nuzzled myself into his side. He was nice and warm, and smelled like cedar and wintertime -- and sex, but that's my fault; whoops. I sighed contently, listening to the soft murmur of whoever was on the other side of the phone.

"Billy Russo," Billy's voice was smooth and smug, and I grinned when he began drawing small shapes into my bare shoulder.

Triangle.

Circle.

Square.

Heart.

I was beginning to drift off to sleep -- I was rather tired -- but then I seemed to have been dragged into the phone conversation, "Yeah... yeah, I'd say she's around."

I could feel him staring at me.

"Please hold," Billy stretched away from me, setting my phone down somewhere -- really, I'd rather him toss it against the wall -- before returning to nudge at me, "Bekah, babe, guy on the other end of the line really wants to talk to you."

Babe. I both love and hate when he uses that word with me.

I grumbled wordlessly again, dragging the blankets with as I shifted back to my original position of back-towards-Billy-so-I-can-ignore-him, "Tell'm 't f'ck off..."

The bed shifted under moving weight, and my edge dipped down a considerable amount. One of Billy's arms was in front of me, and his hair was falling forward, again, ticking my cheek. I peeked open an eye and couldn't help the giggle that came out when I met Billy's deep, dark brown gaze, "This 'Matt' character seemed pretty determined to speak with you."

I grunted, a noise akin to an angry moose, reaching out my left arm while I moved, yet again, this time burying my face in the pillows as an attempt to suffocate myself, "Gimme."

Billy gave my back a gentle pat and fell backwards, out of my sight. His sarcastic receptionist tone made me snicker, again, though, lightening up my mood, "Thank you for holding. Miss Hall will speak with you now."

The phone was set in my hand and I propped it up against the pillow, hitting the speakerphone button, "What, Matt?"

"Oh, well, hello to you, too," he muttered, "Are you currently in need of employment?"

I huffed, propping myself on my elbows, "I was in the middle of something. Your interruption doesn't warrant a proper hello. And yes, to a certain extent, I suppose I am. Why?"

Billy snorted when I told Matt off. But I mean, honestly, it's only... I checked the time on my phone; 9:06. It's only nine in the morning and he's calling to interrupt my... personal time? We haven't even talked in, like, months. I thought he lost my number, for God's sake.

"'cause I'm offering you employment," I could hear the irritation dripping from every word, and it gave me immense satisfaction.

I glanced back at Billy, since I could feel him just... watching me. He was probably studying my tattoos and scars, again -- he was. To snap him from his thoughts, I reached a hand back, ruffling his hair forward so it fell in his eyes. It was nice and long on the top, buzzed on the side, but he always had it slicked back and honestly, I've made it my life's mission to unruffle it as often as I can.

I broke into an impish grin when he made a disapproving face at me, and I answered Matt without breaking eye contact from Billy, "Yeah... I s'pose I'll stop by. Where at?"

Seriously, I could just study Billy all damn day. Sharp jawline peppered by scruff, jet black hair and eyes to match. He was tall and gangly, too, towering over everyone he ever neared.

"222 King Street," Matt's voice was clipped, "Second floor."

I rolled back over onto my back again, hungrily eyeing up Billy, "'aight, I'll be there in a while," I trailed off when Billy moved over me, his knees bracketing mine, arms braced on either side of my head, "I, uh... I have something to finish, first."

Billy reached over and ended the call. I raised my eyebrows at him, "He didn't get to say goodbye."

"He'll see you in a while," Billy's hair was still flopping into his eyes. His eyes, which have somehow gotten a shade darker, "Right now, you're mine."

---

I hate this.

I really shouldn't hate the situation but I do. You have no, no idea how much I do. Billy in entirety just made me hurt. Emotionally and physically, both good and bad pain. I let out a self-pity snort and hesitated a glance over at him.

There he was, my blankets only half covering him, his hips taunting me the most out of everything he was flaunting. One arm was folded under the pillows, behind his head, the other arm resting on his stomach.

I'd messed his hair up. Again. By God I'd messed his hair up so much... I grinned to myself, biting into my lip in an attempt to suppress it. He must've noticed, because he turned to look at me. His lips were still bruised, his white teeth shining even brighter than usual against the red colouring when he broke into a grin looking at me, "Staring is impolite."

Goddammit I hate you. All I did was roll my eyes and sit up, bringing the blankets with me to cover myself, "I... do believe I'm late. Well... late-er," the clock melting off the dresser across the room said it was already ten, and I brought a hand up to my hair to brush it back from my eyes a little; I winced when my fingers hit tangles. It was going to be noon by the time I got to Matt and Foggy's, since I still needed a shower and still needed to get Billy freaking Russo out of my damn bed.

Or, well... I'd very much like him to stay, but...

Billy sat up, propping himself up on one elbow so he could face me, and Goddamn the blankets were slipping-- "Should probably go, then. Don't want you to be even later-er than you already are."

I was just staring at my lap, now, hanging my head. There he goes, making me hurt some more. I swung my legs off the edge of the bed, grabbing a shirt from the floor at my feet. Strategically, I slipped it on and then let the blankets fall, adjusting the shirt as they did as to not flash him at all. With a saddening huff, I realized I'd grabbed Billy's shirt instead of my own.

Well... at least it covers everything important.

I stood up, tugging at the hem of the plain black t-shirt with one hand as I motioned limply at Billy with the other. God I hate how he looks in my bed, "I am... going in the shower," I cut him off before he could offer, "No, I... I'd rather you... not... join me."

Any other occasion, yes, I would've loved that. But I wasn't quite in the mood anymore, now that my sex high was wearing off and my brain was returning to what little shred of normalcy it had left.

Billy Russo was not mine.

Billy Russo would never be mine.

Billy Russo was supposed to start as a frequent fling and stay a frequent fling.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

I should've known I'd screw up the 'no feelings attached' thing sooner or later.

"Something wrong?"

I snapped my head up from staring at me feet, "Hmm?"

Billy was sitting totally upright, now, the blankets bunching at his waist. He was watching me with a concerned expression, "I asked if something was wrong. You seem... off."

"Yeah, I just need to... shower," I started backing towards the bathroom, keeping my eyes on Billy as I continued to tug down the hem of his shirt, "Be right back."

I stepped inside and all but slammed the door shut, pressing my back against it; I needed to shower, so I set to it as smoothly as I possibly could.

No matter how hard I scrubbed, the bruises Billy left on my hips, on my legs.. Neck... stomach... you get the gist. They were still there and they made me want to burst into tears. Granted, I was tearing up a little bit, gritting my teeth to prevent actual falling tears. Though, I was in the shower, no one would notice.

As I was washing the conditioner from my hair and trying to dull the ache that was setting in, the door creaked open and I screeched a little. Billy laughed, "It's just me!"

That doesn't make it any better, "What'd'y'need?"

"Well, as much as I enjoy seeing you wearing my clothing," he paused for a second, "I am going to need my t-shirt back."

"Go ahead and take it back, my dude," I was now finished with my -- rather quick -- shower, and turned the water off, blindly sticking a hand out of the shower curtain to find a towel, "Now get out."

Billy was nice enough to place a clean towel in my outstretched hand, and even through the shower curtain, I could tell he wanted to ask something, "Nothing I haven't seen, Bekah."

That just makes me hurt even more, "I know, I know..." I scrubbed it through my hair before I wrapped myself in the towel, and then I slid the curtain back, stepping out, "But still."

Billy was half dressed, at least, having his pants on. But that was it; his shirt was in his hand and his feet still bare. His hair was even still a mess, and I liked that I was one of the few that could see him so disheveled. And he was still so damn tall. He almost had to physically bend his head to look at me.

He stepped closer, dropping his shirt to rest his hands on my hips, again. I could feel his fingertips lining up perfectly with the bruises there. Like a puzzle. And I wanted to rip apart the false picture it was putting together, "Would you like me to go grab your clothes for you?"

"Clean stuff, preferably, but yes, please," I batted my eyelashes for emphasis, though I knew he'd go regardless.

"Got it," Billy flashed a quick smile, gave one last fleeting squeeze to my hips, and then went back out into my bedroom.

While he was gone, I continued drying myself off, vaguely thinking of what he was going to return with. He had good fashion sense, and there wasn't anything in my room I'd never wear, so I wasn't worried about that. I was more worried about the half of my outfit that, uh... wouldn't be seen to the public.

And I was right. He returned moments later with my usual boots and a pair of black thigh high socks, black skinny jeans and a black Panic! At The Disco shirt for me -- I guess he remembered that I like me my dark colours.

However, there was something that was a stark contrast to my black-on-black-on-black outfit. It wasn't all too noticeable, but as it was the first thing I had to get on, yeah, I noticed it right away. He'd given me my black push up bra with the baby pink lace trim on the top of the cups, complete with a matching bow in the middle. My panties weren't as bad, just straight black with pink bows at the hips, but still.

I sighed heavily and shook my head.

Five minutes later, I was dressed, with hair and teeth brushed, lookin' all fine as hell as I leaned dramatically in the doorway, stretching an arm up the doorframe. Billy was stretched out on my bed, reading one of my many books -- today it was The Picture of Dorian Gray, again -- and seeming totally oblivious to me standing here. But then I cleared my throat and he looked up, grinning like a fox, "Ready to go?"

I gave him an incredulous look, raising my eyebrows, "Oh? Oh, really, you're playing the innocent card, are you?"

His eyes followed me as I went and grabbed a jacket off the bedpost, "I don't know what you mean."

"Wipe that cheeky grin off your smug face, pretty boy," I sassed with a snort, "Surprised you didn't give me any garters to go with."

"Couldn't find 'em," he closed my book and tossed it on the bed next to him, "otherwise I would've. I think you look nice in that set."

I sighed heavily, "'ve only seen me in it twice."

He was still looking so severely smug, and I hated it, "Still don't know why you bought this for me."

"I could, that's why," he swung his noodle legs out of bed and stood up, "I saw it and just thought of you."

"'f course you did," I patted my pockets, looking around, "Where's my-" my hand shot up and caught the phone that was headed straight for me. I stuck it back in my pocket, "Thank y'kindly," I wasn't going to tell him to get out of my apartment. He's been here often enough that he knows the drill; keep the animals inside, lock the door after he leaves, don't steal anything and don't break anything, and especially do not freaking harm any of my pets, "You know the drill. I gotta head out, so Imma just..." I trailed off, leaving him alone in my home.

Xx

Billy Russo has a Thing for thigh highs and lace #confirmed 

I care not what anyone thinks