wispered words and broken sounds

i don't know how i got dressed without collapsing. everything hurt—in the best, worst, most humiliating way.

every time i moved, i remembered exactly how she'd fucked me.how she'd kissed like she was starving. how she held my wrists down like she owned me.

god.

her scent was still on me. her teeth marks were still on my thigh.

and her eyes? still on me like she was replaying every moan in her head._______________________________________________the drive to the studio was quiet again.

not cold, not weird—just thick.

like we were both sitting in the middle of something too big to say out loud.

her hand rested on the gearshift, fingers twitching like she wanted to reach for me but didn't.

i didn't know what to say.

what was there to say after you've screamed someone's name into their pillows and cried against their mouth while they made you come over and over again?

"you good?" she asked, glancing at me at a red light.

i nodded.

"still sore?"

i looked out the window, lips twitching. "...shut up."

she smirked. "you're welcome."_______________________________________________the studio smelled like dust and wires and something new.

she walked in like she owned the place. like nothing in the world could touch her. like she hadn't fucked me into next week the night before and left me unable to sit without flinching.

i followed her in, breath shallow, skin still flushed.

she threw her bag on the couch, pulled off her hoodie, and disappeared into the booth like this was any other session. like her voice wasn't the reason i was falling apart.

i sat down by the mixing desk, legs crossed, heart pounding, trying not to look too obviously wrecked._______________________________________________then she started singing.

low. slow. raspy.

"you've got me in a cage..."

my breath caught.

the way her voice dipped—that tone, the one she only used when she meant every fucking word—it was like a hand around my throat.

my thighs clenched.

i bit the inside of my cheek, eyes locked on her behind the glass.and then she looked up.

met my eyes.

she didn't blink. didn't look away.

just kept singing like she was undressing me with her voice alone._______________________________________________after the first take, she pulled off her headphones and waved me into the booth.

"c'mon," she said. "need you."

i blinked. "for what?"

"you'll see."

i stepped in.

and the second the door shut behind me, she grabbed me by the hips, slammed me against the padded wall, and kissed me like she needed me to breathe.

"still sore?" she whispered against my mouth.

i moaned. "billie—someone could—"

"soundproof," she hissed, already sliding her hands under my shirt. "besides, i don't give a fuck."_______________________________________________she dropped to her knees, just like that. yanked down my jeans, panties soaked.

"fuck," she muttered. "you're still wet."

i whimpered as her mouth hit me like fire.

tongue fast, fingers rough, moans vibrating against my skin.i tangled my hands in her hair and pulled, thighs shaking.

"god—billie—someone could see—"

"let them," she said, voice low, lips slick."maybe they'll learn something."

i came hard against her mouth, back arching, fingers clawing at the wall.

but she wasn't done.

she stood, turned me around, and bent me over the console like it was nothing.

"need to be inside you again," she growled."you gonna take it like a good girl?"

"yes," i gasped."fuck yes—please—"

and then she was fucking me with her fingers again, deeper, faster, pushing me into the glass, her other hand gripping my throat gently—just enough to make me dizzy.

the sound of skin on skin. breaths. moans.sloppy, desperate, fucking filthy.

i was coming again before i could even warn her._______________________________________________and then the door opened.

"billie, i—"

finneas stopped. everything stopped.

his eyes landed on me bent over the console. her hand between my legs.

he blinked.

no one moved.

"oh my fucking god—" he backed out, eyes wide, hand over his face. "what the fuck—what the ACTUAL fuck—"

billie didn't stop moving.

just whispered against my ear, "don't stop now, baby."

i moaned, louder.

"we're already caught. might as well make it worth it."_______________________________________________outside the booth, finneas paced the hallway.

claudia stood there too—arms crossed, face unreadable.

i stepped out fifteen minutes later, hair a mess, hoodie back on, face red as sin.

claudia looked at me. then at billie.

"cute."

i didn't know if she meant it or if she wanted to throw me out a window.

billie smirked.

finneas was still red in the face, muttering something about therapy and bleach.

i sat down at the console again, trying to breathe like i wasn't still shaking.

billie leaned in, brushed her fingers over my thigh.

"you okay?"

i nodded.

barely.

she smiled, pressed a kiss to my jaw.

"you better be," she whispered.

and i knew. we were fucked.

but we were in it now.

END OF CHAPTER 7NEXT CHAPTER: AM I ALREADY ON MY WAY OUT✌🏽