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You didn't understand what it was about him that made you feel this way.
In his midst, you felt so... anxious. As if at any moment, he could reach over and snap your neck.
This, you knew to be true, and yet you also doubted that this worry would ever come to fruition. Why did you ache so badly for his presence with it came hand-in-hand with this fear?
Because fuck, he made you feel so good.
His gaze bore into you and made you so aware of your weakness in comparison to him. It made you want to better yourself for him, to dress in something a little more revealing in the hopes that he would notice or shit, even comment on it. Which he did pretty frequently. See, Vincent wasn't the type of man that most people typically wanted to be around. He was violent, obnoxious, and had the worst manners you'd ever seen. He got under your skin, this much was known already. But it was what he instilled in you that made him so immensely captivating. Whether you were truly fawning over him or simply high off the adrenaline that coursed through your veins when he flirted with you or rubbed your back with a comforting palm, you honestly didn't care.
Vincent didn't make himself known to many. His only notable haunts were the shittiest pub in town and the shittiest available job in town, which was where you just so happened to be employed. Moving boxes in the dead of night certainly wasn't a nice profession for a lady - as Vincent himself had made a point to tell you - but it wasn't so horribly boring that you would rather just not pay your rent this month. Not with him there, anyway. As rude as he was, he was entertaining and managed to lighten the mood considerably. Those rare nights (which, as of late, had become much more frequent), where it was just the two of you were always the most pleasant. Vincent was right in saying that this wasn't a suitable job for a woman of your stature, but the two of you had a nice routine: You pushed the boxes to the edge of the truck bed, and he picked them up. It was a decent arrangement, as this proved to be especially useful for the two of you. He didn't have to hunch over all day and you didn't have to throw your back out trying to lift the boxes. They were fucking heavy, and you never could get over how he so easily lifted a package that you had to exert most of your strength just to push a couple of feet.
It was especially cold that night. The sky was pitch black and devoid of stars, the flames being visibly extinguished by a thick coverage of clouds, leaving the city draped with a dark, velvety blanket. The hoodie you wore was useful, but it failed to keep you from shivering - more than once, Vincent had offered you his own jacket, and more than once, you'd declined. As usual, he only wore that black tank top underneath and you weren't about to let him freeze. Not that you didn't appreciate his insistence.
"Looks like we just got one left and then we can get the fuck out of here," Vincent said as he took yet another box from you. Like clockwork, you were already pushing the last box towards the edge before he returned to the truck. Once that one was stowed away, he kindly helped you down and you were again reminded of how much taller than you he was. It was easy to forget that he towered over you when you were in the truck. You stood taller than him then, and you would be lying if you said that you weren't fond of that fact. Reaching into his back pocket, Vincent retrieved a pack of cigarettes and grumbled something to himself that you didn't quite catch as he flipped the top - more than likely, he was complaining about the job. You didn't blame him. As muscular as he was, you still knew that it must have been pretty unpleasant to move dozens of heavy ass boxes. Especially when your boss was an aloof dick. Being the gentleman that he was, he offered you one and lit it for you before carelessly stuffing the pack back into his pocket. For a moment, the two of you stood in semi-pleasant silence, exhausted but relieved that the night's work was finally over.
"Can't imagine this shit's any way for a lady to spend her Saturday night," Vincent said before taking a long drag from his cancer stick, gazing out at the vacant road. You simply gave a little shrug in response. "It's not so bad. You make it better." In that saying that, you'd meant his help with the heavy lifting, but... you felt your face heat up when you realized that it carried a double meaning. Whether he picked up on that, you weren't sure. He simply gave a little chuckle and went right back to his cigarette. After a second moment of silence, this one being far more awkward than the last, you dropped what little was left of your cigarette and ground it against the pavement with your heel. "I should, uh... probably get going. It's really cold." Vincent looked down at you, seeming to be studying you for a moment before that signature grin returned to his face. "What, you think I was gonna make you work all night and not invite you for a drink?" By this, you were really taken aback and you could only stare at him. He wanted to hang out with you? After work? When he was probably tired as shit and wasn't being paid to put up with you? Okay, you were probably reading too much into this, but you couldn't help yourself. You were like a giddy schoolgirl being noticed by her crush, only... you weren't entirely sure if this was the first time. He'd caught you staring more than once, and he always gave you that same cocky grin with that taunting gleam in his eyes... his expression wasn't necessarily unkind, but it always made you look away. You supposed that you simply felt so out of his league that treating him like anything more than a co-worker wasn't feasible. He was rough around the edges and reeked of badassery and bad news, and you were just some weird kid trying to get through college.
"Uh... what?"
"I said, I'd like to have a drink with you."
Of course you fucking blanked at that affirmation. May the ground open up and swallow you alive, pretty please?
"Um..."
You swallowed hard.
"Why?"
Idiot.
Vincent chuckled as he stomped out his cigarette, taking a small step towards you with that shit-eating grin of his.
"Why not? You're probably the least shitty person to work with here. You're cute."
At that, you blushed and looked away, fiddling with your hair in lieu of a proper response because you were just being a complete moron tonight, apparently. He was extending the olive branch you'd been grasping at so desperately and here you were, squandering it and being your usual dumb self.
"...'sides. Don't think I ain't noticed how you've been starin' at me."
And there it was. He had just opened the floodgates of Hell for you. You had been staring, and he had noticed. Save for the instances when you were sure that you had been caught, you had thought that he was none the wiser. For a moment, you could only stand and stare at him. Red-faced, gawking like a fucking moron while he chuckled at your expense. "No need to be so fuckin' shy, Y/N. If you wanna do that, let's just do it. Fuck is up with you always being all anxious about shit?" And to really rub salt in the wound, he reached out and ruffled your hair. He didn't want you to be shy? Fine. Just... fucking fine. If he was going to push you like that, fuck it. You decided to put your cards all out on the table and see what he thought about it. Maybe you would actually shock him into rethinking having such a pushy attitude.
"I... okay... I'll just... say it, then. I don't want a drink. I want to fuck you."
You know how in a movie, when some weird, scene-disrupting shit happens, there's a record scratch? Yeah, that would be oh so very apropos. The silence was deafening as Vincent gawked at you, that cocky grin actually fading from his face. Were your heart not practically vibrating in your chest, you might have relished in his expression of genuine shock as he stared you down. As the seconds passed without a response from him, you became increasingly more horrified by what you'd just said. After what felt like an eternity of you awkwardly avoiding his gaze, that grin came back with a new predatory glint to it.
"Seriously?"
"...seriously."
Before you could begin apologizing for that severe lapse in your judgement, his hands were gripping the sides of your face and he was kissing you hard, holding you so tightly that it almost hurt, and panting so deeply that you could hear the rattling breaths he took. You were shocked by this, having expected him to either politely turn you down or laugh in your face depending on how merciful he was feeling tonight, but you didn't waste much time, either. Your eyes fluttered shut as you reciprocated his affection, your hands awkwardly grasping his forearms.
He was a sloppy kisser, and rough in his ministrations - he frequently bit your lip, always sucking on it soon after (whether it was his way of apologizing for being overzealous or simply because he wanted you taste your blood, you didn't know) and you couldn't bother to be embarrassed when you let out a muffled little moan against his lips. You briefly pulled away for air, panting and taking in his lustful gaze - the intensity with which he looked at you made your core give a weak throb. You only had a moment of this however, as he soon pulled you back in, claiming your mouth again, hungry and intense, until your knees gave in. By the time you became aware of your own lingering hands, they had already slipped under his shirt. You felt him pushing his tongue into your mouth and you gave in, taking his spit and letting out a little moan as he tightened his grip on your hair.
You didn't know what came over you, but you didn't care. Once again, you pulled away from the kiss, only to whine the words "Fuck me," before your lips were his again. You felt him smirk and you knew that he just must have been feeling so high and mighty right then, but you'd been so sexually frustrated this past week you'd been working with him that you really just didn't care. Nor did you care that he was dragging you into an alley; it certainly wasn't the most romantic place, but it was away enough from prying eyes that it didn't occur for you to mind the abysmal scenery. He finally let you breathe once he'd lifted you up into his arms and pinned you to the wall, still grinning, still panting, his spit-slick lips gleaming in the minimal light that the nearest streetlight offered. His rough, calloused hands gripped your thighs as he ground his hips against yours, and you let out a pitiful whimper when you felt how hard he was. Having worn a skirt that day, the only protection you had was a pair of panties that were currently sticking to your skin. You began to emulate his movements and soon you were humping each other, still kissing and making quite a mess of one another before you even started having sex. He groaned into your lips before breaking the kiss, and your face flushed when you saw how a thin string of saliva briefly connected your lips. You let out a pleased sigh when he buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a myriad of kisses and bruises in his wake as he slowly worked his way down to your collarbone. "How wet are you right now?" He grumbled into your neck, and your breath caught in your throat when the zipper of his jeans rubbed against your clit just right. He chuckled and pressed himself even harder against you, deciding to leave another hickey on your neck before teasing you further. "You want me to fuck you? Fine, I'm gonna make you cum so fuckin' hard on my cock -" You felt Vincent grin against your neck. "- had I known you were achin' for it so bad, shit, I probably would've bent you over the truck bed on the first night."
He wasn't even fucking you yet and you were already such a mess. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your pussy was aching for him, and you wished that he would just stop teasing you already. "C'mon Vincent," you whimpered, pressing a few kisses of your own to the pale skin of his neck. "Please, I'm so wet, just fuck me already." You heard him let out a breathy little growl as he pressed you closer to the brick wall, moving one of his hands away from your thighs to shove it down your skirt instead. You weren't lying, if the way his face flushed was any indication. "Alright, baby. I ain't gonna be cruel this time. I'mma take care of you," he murmured as he began to undo his belt. Your hands shook as you reached down to help him. Once that was out of the way, you felt Vincent push your panties aside and soon after felt the blunt head of his cock rubbing against you. Your breath came out in uneven pants as you looked up at him. He gave you that cocky grin when you locked eyes, and you pulled him in for a kiss.
As he was busy ravaging your lips that you thought must have already been bruised - a thought which, by the way, made a pleasant shiver run down your spine - he pushed himself inside of you. The feeling of him finally penetrating your aching pussy, pushing himself in to the hilt with the first thrust, made your lips part in a groan that he seemed to be too enamored with to mock. All you could do was whine and hang onto him as he fucked you. His teeth dug into the soft flesh of your neck and it hurt, but the pain felt oddly intimate and it only worsened your lust for him. You were never very loud during sex - you were never loud, period - but you couldn't help but moan when he thrusted so deep. "Fuck, baby... I bet your pussy was aching for me all day," he groaned into the crook of your neck, gripping your hips with a grip so tightly that he was sure to leave a bruise. Your hips slotted together so perfectly when he held you like this, almost as if you were made to be there, made to take him.
It happened so quickly that it was a little embarrassing. Before you even realized how close you were, you came, groaning, every muscle drawn taut. It was almost too much. It would have been close to agonizing had he not slowed his pace, now only shallowly thrusting into you. The sensation made you pant and whine, but it steadily built you back up rather than tore through you and caused you pain. For a moment, he could only stare down at you, the lust so evident in his eyes that you almost felt compelled to look away, but that cocky grin reclaimed his face before you could get used to it. "Shit, did you just cum?" Breathless and completely out of it, you weakly nodded. He chuckled and fucked you a little deeper, clearly relishing in the broken moan that tore from your throat. "Fuck... do it again. I'm gonna have you milk my cock for all it's worth. Shit... I'm takin' you home, and I'm gonna make you cum until you're fuckin' begging me to stop."