Chapter Text
He had spoken with Bethanny and Julia soon after the rumours started going around about you sleeping with him. Well, they weren't really rumours, but Frederick called them that to keep up appearances. It was no use to deny having sex with you in his office that day after the incident, so he didn't bother. Instead, he sat behind his desk and looked from Bethanny to Julia and asked them if they had anything to ask or say to him. They shook their heads no.
"Really? It sure seems like you both had plenty to say about me to everyone else," Frederick had said coolly.
The women shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "Well, there wasn't much to ask, Dr. Chilton," Bethanny was the older of the two and had been working for Frederick much longer than Julia. It was no surprise that she would be the bolder one. "I don't mean to disrespect you in any way, but it was extremely obvious what had happened in your office," she had told him.
"I understand that," said Frederick, looking down his nose at her. "But I would have appreciated you coming to me about the matter instead of spreading it throughout the entire hospital. It's quite irritating to know that my employees are more concerned about my sex life than about their duties."
Bethanny nodded, dejected at his cold tone. "Yes, sir."
"We only told a couple of people, sir," Julia chimed in. "Couldn't have been more than three or four."
"No, but you knew damn well that news like this would travel with velocity," Frederick had snapped. "Don't think I don't know what everyone is saying about me."
The women didn't say anything for a moment, so Frederick spoke again.
"I am accustomed by now to having people talk about me," he said in a low voice. "I am not loved around here and I know it. I don't care about it, either, because this has been the way it is for years. You can say whatever you want about me and spread whichever rumours you'd like. I've heard it all before." He leaned in on his elbows towards the women sitting in front of him. "But this is not just about me. You've dragged her into all of this, and you had no right to do that. She's sweet and kind and friendly. She's enthusiastic and cares about everyone here. She is well-liked and she is good at her job. She does not deserve to have the entire hospital calling her a slut."
Bethanny frowned and shook her head. "You're absolutely right, sir," she said.
"We should have left things alone," Julia agreed.
"Yes, you should have," Frederick said, not softening his tone at all. "Now please get back to work."
The assistant and secretary seemed surprised. They had heard, like everyone else, about Frank's being fired and they had expected that to be their fate as well. The two murmured another set of apologies, which Frederick dismissed with a wave of his hand, and left.
After the door of his office had closed, he buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath to calm himself down. He had wanted to fire both of them, but he couldn't have done that because he didn't have enough of a reason to. It could easily bite him in the butt if either of them decided to sue him for wrongful dismissal. But more than that, he knew you would hate him if he fired them. He already felt bad about getting rid of Frank (who deserved it in his eyes).
But the difference was that he wasn't in denial anymore. No, Frederick knew how he felt now and he wasn't afraid of it anymore.
Nine days later, Frederick sits at his kitchen table, staring at the phone in his hand. Earlier that day, he had tried to call you. He made sure to do so after you had already left work so that you wouldn't be disturbed. As he had suspected, you did not pick up so he had left a voicemail.
He wonders if you could tell when he spoke that he had practiced what he was going to say over and over and over again. He hates being so nervous, but he has made a promise to himself not to let that stop him.
He hadn't thought that he would have started wanting you, but in the days after your mishap in the infirmary, he had woken up with you on his mind. It was the first time in so long that thoughts other than revenge against Hannibal Lecter had greeted him first thing in the morning. And it had terrified him.
Frederick felt himself slowly going back to the way he used to be and he was terrified of becoming so weak and pathetic again, of becoming vulnerable. Of becoming a victim again. He had decided that he would never be prey again and the hostility and hatred that he had felt during his waking hours were what made him feel strong and like a changed man. He didn't care that he was not as physically capable as he used to be.
After his facial injury had healed, it was this anger that had fuelled his actions, including everything he had done to you. You were the perfect outlet but he had never expected for you to become anything more than that. But when the image of your face had greeted him that morning, he had smiled before he remembered himself. You had made him forget all that had been done to him for the first time in so long and it was overwhelming, the gratefulness he had towards you. It had been the morning of the day that he had planned on speaking to you and asking how you were doing. The nerves he got, along with the excitement that came with the prospect of seeing you had felt… nice. Almost human. He had not expected to love having more on his mind than revenge. He had expected that feeling like this would have made him feel weak. But then again, maybe he just had forgotten how such feelings felt altogether. It had been years since he felt this way about anyone, and the feeling was growing stronger with every passing day.
And this was how he had decided that he wanted you. And to prove to himself and to everyone that he was not the man he used to be, that he was ten times better than the man he used to be, he decided to give it his all to get you. And that meant not giving up.
And so he sits, staring at his phone, waiting for you to return his call, but the phone stays still and silent. It had been only about an hour since he left the message, but he figured that if you haven't responded by now, you aren't planning to respond at all. With a dejected sigh, Frederick walks upstairs. He feels defeated, but he doesn't want to give up, even if it has been two weeks since you last gave him any attention. He just wishes that he hadn't kissed you the last time you were together. Maybe that had been what scared you off.
Deciding that he needed a shower, he undresses himself in his bedroom and leaves his phone on the bed. He turns on the shower in his bathroom and steps in when the water is nice and warm. He can't take his mind off you.
He thinks about the crease that appears between your shoulder blades when you arch your back. He thinks about the way your hands wrap around his wrists when he touches you. He thinks about the soft whimpers and loud gasps you make. The way your mouth falls open at his thrusts. The way you move your hips against him to make sure you get as much of him as you can. The way you wrap your lips around his length and take him slowly before picking up speed. God, he loves how you get.
But that's not all. He loves your body in general, not just when it comes to sex. He loves the scars that cover your knees, indicating how much you've fallen as a child. He loves the soft skin of your breasts and the line of sweat beneath them. He loves the pout of your lips and the curl of your lashes over those amazing eyes. He loves how your hair feels both against his skin and when it's weaved itself through his fingers. He loves every part of you and it shocks him that he barely even looked at you until he got you alone. And the way you respond to his touches, how you wrap your legs around him every chance you get, the way you plead with your words and with your eyes... he just can't get enough of you.
But, dear god, your smile is so beautiful. He's been itching for you to smile at him, to laugh with him the way he's seen you laugh with everyone else. He wants to have you joke with him, to talk with him, to be yourself around him. For you to stand straight in front of him instead of hunching over as if waiting for some sort of punishment. He wants you to relax and not worry when he's around, but he can't blame you for the way you act in front of him. He purposely conditioned you to be scared of him through the way he uses you so it is no wonder why you never know how to behave in front of him in a non-sexual situation. It was just what he had set out to do but not what he wanted anymore. Now he wants to get to know the girl he's noticed outside of all the sex. The girl that Jordan and Frank know. The girl who likes art and music. The girl with ink-stained fingers, the girl with the care-free hairstyles, the girl with the laugh lines. He would be lying if he said he hadn't listened in on your conversations over the microphones he had in his hospital. The problem was that he didn't have any installed in the lobby so he has had to keep an eye out for you speaking with anyone in other places in the hospital, but that just made him feel guilty for spying on you (though not guilty enough to stop doing it).
That was how he got to know what your laugh sounds like properly. That's how he got to know how you greet your friends, your speaking habits, the phrases you liked to use, the amount of sarcasm you used, and the types jokes you found funny and which you found offensive. He had tried to approach you many times with all these mental notes that he had made, but you ignored him.
He likes to think of you as you were two weeks ago, when you had run your hands over his bare chest and back so softly and gasped into his mouth as he pleasured you. He likes to think of the way you had whimpered his name against his lips as your breath quivered. The way you pulled his head to your chest as you gasped and the way you had looked at him, almost as if you wanted him.
Almost.
Frederick groans and leans his hands against the shower tiles. He looks down at his hard dick, annoyed with himself. Yes, it has been 14 days since he had sex, but that isn't why he misses you! But still, it's nearly impossible to think about you and not think about being intimate with you.
He sighs softly as the warm water drums pleasantly against his sensitive skin. He definitely doesn't want to stop thinking about you so why bother trying to will his erection away? He closes his eyes and imagines you standing in front of him in the shower, the water droplets clinging onto your lashes and stuck hanging on the tip of your nose. The stream of the shower would run down your shoulders, over your collar bones and between your breasts in cascades. He lets out a sigh as he wraps his hand around his shaft, spreading the precome around with his thumb before giving it a nice, long pull. He imagines you on your knees, slowly taking him into your mouth and sucking gently.
Leaning one hand against the wall in front of him, Frederick starts pumping his dick, slowly and gently, wanting the fantasy to last awhile. He moans softly as he pictures you licking your way down his length and over his balls. You looking up at him between flicks of your tongue and sucks, your eyes wide and lusting for him. He gives his balls a squeeze before wrapping his hand back around his shaft. He begins pumping faster, imagining you as you bounce on your heels to pleasure him, your head bobbing and your fist pumping. "Fuck…"
Frederick steps forward quickly to lean his head against the wall as he continues the movements around his cock. His strokes get shorter and faster as he pictures you pinned against the wall as he fucks you, eyes closed, mouth open, hands spread out on the wall behind you. One leg on the floor to hold you up as Frederick has the other held up at his side by the back of your knee. He imagines the sounds you would make, the sharp gasps as the water splatters onto your chest. "Fuck, I want you," he gasps out as his knees grow weak underneath him. "I want you so b-ad, ahh!" He thrusts his hips into his hand, feeling out of control as his breath continues to get shallower and shallower.
Feeling completely drunk, he lowers himself to his knees on the shower floor, doubling over as his hand pumps erratically around his cock. "Oh my god," he grunts. You're still all he can think about as he pictures you on your stomach and elbows, your back pressed to his chest as he thrusts into you over and over. The sound of flesh against water and porcelain would be so fucking intoxicating. He wants you in his arms so badly. It's all he wants as he clenches his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. He leans his weight on one hand as he continues to thrust into his fist until he finally comes. He lets out a groan of satisfaction fixed with frustration as his semen spills onto the wet shower floor, quickly mixing with the water and following it down the drain.
He stays on his knees for a few minutes as he catches his breath and his heart slows. He pays attention to the water droplets hitting his back and shoulders to help calm him down. The rhythm is soothing, and soon enough, Frederick picks himself up and turns off the water. He dries himself off and changes into pyjamas. He feels worse now than he had before. All he can think about now was how much harder it was becoming for him to walk by your desk every morning to have you stare at anything but him until he had left the lobby. He still didn't quite understand what it was that scared you away.
Or maybe he did but he just was holding onto false hope. He doesn't like to think that you hated him but he knows that it's a likely possibility, and he can't blame you if you do. After all that he's done? It seems completely reasonable for you to cut off contact as soon as he showed interest. Maybe he should just stop chasing you since you've been so clear that you don't want him.
Dejected, Frederick walks to his bed, figuring he could just order in some food and throw himself into work before calling it a night. He picks up his cellphone and sees that he has a message from you. His heart speeds up when he reads it.
You're right. It reads. We should talk.