When I first saw your name on the resident roster, it was just another unit to inspect. Get in, assess, exterminate, then get the fuck outta there. Real simple. Same deal since the old man hired me—a scrappy kid with nowhere to go and no one waiting for me at home. It was a blessing in disguise and gave me a foundation to work from. Guidance. Still, like anybody else, I couldn't wait to clock out.

The apartment complex was a maze of stale air and urban woes, bordering districts between those well-off and regular motherfuckers like myself. The tenants that lived there reflected that. Old, young, rich, poor. You name it and it was there. All under the ownership of a corporation like most properties. Private ownership wasn't any better but at least you could spit in the eye of the prick that raised your rent and neglected the upkeep. In a building like that, you'd never get to see whose pockets you were lining. As far as I was concerned, fuck em all.

My equipment and clipboard felt like anchors as I trudged through the dimly lit halls freshly painted in that millennial gray that nobody could seem to get away from. The alcoves in front of the unit doors were a tacky ass navy blue that didn't match anything. I wondered what fucking idiot's idea that was. It was smeared over older warped layers of paint. A real hack job if anyone gave a fuck about my opinion. But I was just the fuckin' exterminator, there for a not-so-good time and definitely not a long one.

Next on the list: a real shithole that reeked of dog piss and neglect. The tenant was a nasty motherfucker. Pizza boxes and old food stains covered every surface, visible and hidden. There was no doubt I'd find something crawling around in this shitter. Didn't need to wait until a trap was set to see it, either. Like clockwork, something skittered in my peripheral vision right on cue. It was more than enough confirmation. "Looks like you got rats."

"Rats? What do you mean? That—"

"Rats, like I said. Little fuzzy squeakin' fuckers. They shit about this big," I demonstrated the pellet size with my index and thumb nearly touching to emphasize the obvious. "There's a goddamn trail of it from here to the U.S. of A. You blind?"

Fuckin' idiot. I always hated when they did this shit. Pretending like I couldn't see how fuckin' disgusting...

As I detailed the steps to rid him of his ilk, your name crept into my head like a whisper. It was sudden and alluring, a sweet escape from the monotony and the stench. It played over like an earworm, soothing my irritation as he prattled on, excusing himself from the hell of his own making.

But your name, L/n, Y/n, stuck with me. Sweet, smooth, and utterly captivatin'. I found myself repeatin' it out loud to myself, unit after unit, just to hear how it sounded.

It wasn't unusual for me to get hyper fixated on things, but never people. People were messy and complicated. Relationships. They were more trouble than they were worth. I never had a problem keepin' things casual and temporary. A sweet taste of something good until the fun faded. No strings attached.

So why the hell was I thinking about you? Imagining what you'd look like behind closed doors? Picturing what it would be like to hear your voice, feel the touch of your skin on mine. No damn sense. I was losin' my mind. I still had my own life to deal with, after all, my own business to attend to when the workday ended.

I moved down another level, closer to you, and couldn't help but wonder about your story. Foreigner? Unique name like that, maybe your folks just wanted to stand out. Whatever it was, you stood out to me. Maybe it was destiny—though I didn't buy into that crap. But I'd take the coincidence.

Twenty-one floors down, yours was nestled on the 19th. We worked our way down, top to bottom. The boss was particular about his system, though I never understood why. It was the same amount of work either way. But I did it his way because that's what you do when you want to get paid. Old people get stuck in their ways, I guessed. As long as the paycheck cleared, I didn't give a shit. I loved the guy like a grandpa, and work was work.

By the time I finished up on level 20, my mind wandered. I wondered what kind of person you were, living among these stuck-up assholes. Hopefully, you weren't like them. They acted like their shit didn't stink, living like animals. Maybe you just liked the view.

I've been doin' this job long enough to know that the higher you go up in these high rises, the more cash you gotta cough up. And the more attitude you probably got. I hoped you weren't some bougie motherfucker who'd make my day harder than it needed to be. I hoped you were just as sweet as the katakana scrawled on that list. I shook my head to rid myself of the cynical notions as the elevator took me down.

When I reached your place, time seemed to slow down. I stared at your name on the list for what seemed like the millionth time, feeling a hint of anticipation. Something in my chest fluttered, and my breath hitched. Excitement? Over something like that? It was a first.

It took you a little while to get to the door after I knocked, and I got worried that maybe you weren't even home. The thought of not being able to complete the image I had of you in my mind had me gripping my clipboard and the strap to my insecticide tank harder than necessary. My fingers were going numb and inside I pleaded for you to please be just what I needed. I was a patient guy when I wanted to be. Although, with the excitement of the unknown luring me in I wasn't entirely sure if this was one of those moments.

If I'd known what fate had in store, I would've savored the moment. I stood there, transfixed, wondering if the visuals would match the symphony that was your name - Y/n. It was a strange feeling, being suddenly obsessed without knowing why.

Something wicked in me stirred, pushing me to peek through your peephole with a casual nonchalance. I didn't want to be caught watching - no. I had to act casual. Just a professional doing his job. That's what I was here for, right? That's what I was supposed to be. What I needed to be was careful.

"Give me a second," your voice called out, and everything inside me froze with your footsteps lightly approaching. It was as if all the blood in my veins had rushed south, leaving me teetering on the edge of madness. Your voice, low and sultry, was like a seductive current, pulling me under. I felt like a punk ass kid again, struggling to keep my composure as my body betrayed me, twitching and aching with a need I couldn't control. Adjusting myself, I shifted uncomfortably, trying to position my manhood between my thigh and the rough fabric of my uniform. Going commando today? Big fucking mistake.

It made me feel like a damn creep. When did I start reacting like this? When did I become the kind of guy who thinks and behaves like a sketchy bastard? No, this wasn't me. I didn't do shit like this. I couldn't. But the urgency in me grew stronger, pushing me to knock again, desperate for you to open the door sooner, get to me sooner.

You sounded just like an angel, and I wondered if anyone had ever told you that? If they did, then who? For the sake of not sounding like a lunatic, let's just say that maybe I just wanted to talk to em. Just a little… talk.

I wanted to hear your voice one more time. Just another taste before...

The lock clicked, the door swung open, and you were standing there in all your glory. You looked divine, like a vision ripped from a dark, twisted fantasy—or maybe it was just my dark, twisted fantasy. Whatever it was, you were both a fuckin' dream and a fuckin' nightmare rolled into one. I was caught between thrill and terror, overwhelmed by how badly I wanted you. It was an insatiable hunger, an all-consuming need. Want. Want. Want.

As my eyes swept over your features, drinking in every detail, you stood there in wary silence, sizing me up. I didn't blame you. I looked like the kind of guy your mom would tell you not to bring home. But those wide, apprehensive eyes of yours were staring back at mine, studying them as I studied you. You were perfection personified, even your clothes—a rich tapestry of textures that I knew intimately, even if only through imagination. You know that phenomenon where your tongue can recognize every texture your fingertips have ever touched? Yeah, that. But imagining it wasn't fuckin' enough. I craved the real thing. I wanted to taste you, to touch you, to feel you. The hem of your skirt against my teeth as I dragged it up your delicious thighs, my nose buried in your skin, inhaling that sweet scent of yours. Would you ever let me? Would I ever obtain the privilege? Fuck—what was that? What was that feeling that had me losing my shit? The feeling that said you could walk me like a dog, and I'd be hot on your heels on all fours if you asked.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my cool, to keep my eyes from wandering over your figure like a depraved man. This was too much. You made my mouth water, and my body throb just by standing there, just by existing. I had to keep it together, keep my head screwed on right. Business. This was a business visit, and the old man raised me to be a professional.

It wasn't normal, none of it. No one ever drove me out of my mind like that. How was I already fantasizing about you before we even met, before I even touched you? Who the fuck were you to make me feel this way? I was just here to work, Y/n. You weren't supposed to be like this. You weren't supposed to look like this. And… and what was I? Pissed now? Jesus fuckin'–

I couldn't stay mad. Not with you standing there, such a little thing compared to me. You looked a bit surprised by my height, but I thought I'd be more expressive to put you at ease, so you didn't see me as threatening as others often do, yet...

You committed raw sin just by looking up at me with those fuckin' doe eyes of yours like you wanted me to commit crimes for you. Like you'd commit crimes for me too. It was almost unbearable, Y/n, being there in front of you, wanting you that much. Almost.

Your eyes, lined with black and shaded with muted tones, captivated me. You looked up at me through your lashes, oh so fucking slowly. It was poetic, especially when you were clearly nervous. The way you stuttered and fumbled your invitation to let me in was cute. How you forgot to show me around your place, your Eden, once I was inside. You could barely function when you looked at me. Trust me, I noticed. It was the cutest thing, and I felt a surge of relief that you were checking me out too.

I wondered if you'd welcome me into your bed the same way—nervous and timid but irresistibly sweet. Letting me do what needed to be done. Inside you.

I tried to keep my eyes off you, but it was like trying to ignore a storm brewing on the horizon. Every moment, I found myself drifting back to you, caught between my work and temptation. I locked into my task, keeping focused despite your presence burning at the edges of my thoughts. All I wanted was to fuckin' tease you, push your buttons, and see what made you tick. You were a mystery, Y/n. Why did I want to be the only person that knew how to make you feel good? I wasn't the serious relationship type. Never long term. I didn't fall for people. I hung out, I fucked, and I kept my eye on the prize. But something about you twisted the rules I'd set for myself.

Once inside, I took note of pet toys scattered around the otherwise tidy space. That and anything else that could clue me in on what you were generally into. Scoping out points of infestation couldn't hold me. Because during our exchange, my eyes would fall on you, lingering a bit too long. I would catch myself staring before quickly averting my gaze, only to find my eyes flicking back to you again. It was an unconscious habit. Uncontrollable, even. And every time you looked back at me, I caught a glimpse, even if for only a second.

When you finally mentioned you had a cat, my mind short-circuited at the way you referred to him as your 'pussy.' You clever doll. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn't you? Provoking me, challenging me, but I wasn't about to jump in without thinking. I wasn't going to spoil my dinner by having dessert first. I was a big guy that needed all his courses. Fuck it, I wanted the entire buffet and keep it comin'.

I internalized the information you gave me about your cat not fucking with people like that, and I couldn't help but wonder if you had the same outlook. Were you going to make this difficult for me by keeping your distance? If that was the case, patience was a game I was willing to play—for you.

I'm not 'people', baby, and I wouldn't be a stranger for long. Even if you weren't into these other motherfuckers, you were gonna love having me around. I'd make it my mission to win over furball too. I'd be the best daddy to him. Hell, I could be your daddy too if you'd let me. I'd do it all.

You tempted me with your words, the questions you'd asked, and the answers you had to mine. Prying at my hard edges, not knowing that there was a beast inside just waiting to consume you. I was starving for you. I stood face to face with you, your nose mere inches from my chest, I was a heartbeat away from throwing caution to the wind. I watched to see if you'd back down, but you didn't. No, you held your ground, staring me right in the eye. I could see how your little heart was beating against your chest. You were playing at bravery, or maybe it was just curiosity. You mighta been a little intrigued yourself, and it made me feel like I' won the lottery. A small thing like you, staring me down like that? I was hooked. Baby, didn't you ever learn not to look a feral animal in the eye? I was gonna have to teach you.

I pulled back, resisting the overwhelming urge to take you against that wall and show you exactly what I was made of. We both needed a moment to catch our breath. I gave you the space to lead me to your bathroom for the rest of the inspection. The space was compact—a tight squeeze for a man my size, making me acutely aware of your presence just outside. When I wrapped up the job, I took one last lingering look at you, every detail seared into my memory—for now, for later, for always.

The walk across your threshold was slow and agonizing, each step a battle against my own desire. But I knew this wasn't the end. I'd be seeing you again. Your eyes gave away everything—why wouldn't I come back? Again and again. I made a promise to myself at that moment.

Now, I stand in front of the elevator, my foot tapping impatiently against the cold tile floor. I can't hold it in any longer. The ride down feels like an eternity, the stale, musty smell of cigarettes and old beer filling my nostrils. It's a world away from your intoxicating scent—fresh, clean, with a hint of something sweet and alluring. Thankfully that does a little to ease the aching of my cock.

The bell dings, the elevator doors groan open with a metallic screech, and I bolt to my car. I toss my shit in the passenger seat, settling into the driver's side. The heat of my skin radiates against the cool leather seats as I fumble to unzip my jumpsuit. My heart pounds and my breath comes in shallow, ragged bursts.

I lean back against the seat, a low growl escaping my throat as I wrap my hand around my thick length. The skin feels velvety smooth yet taut under my touch. A bead of precum forms at the tip, warm and sticky against the cool air inside the car. I spread it along my shaft, the sensation sending a shiver up my spine. The first stoke is like fucking magic making me groan into the fogging windows. Everything outside blurs, fading away as your image plays vividly in my mind like a movie I don't want to end.

I close my eyes, and your perfect face fills my mind. The way you looked at me as if I was your own personal deity. They were so defiant it made me want to embody the role fully and punish you. I'll be your God for sure… if that's what you want. But it won't stop me from kneeling at the altar of your thighs, my head between them, worshiping you instead. Only I'm out here in my fuckin' car in the middle of the day with a raging hard-on and my hand down my pants, drunk off my recollection of you.

The warmth of my hand drags lazily up my shaft, teasing the vein that snakes its way under the foreskin with an added twist at the head. Every hair on my body stands on with the sharp chill of the car's interior. What would you do if you saw me like this? Would you want us to worship each other like I know we should? Fuck it if it's insane.

Daydreams of your body so fuckin' close to mine, soft and inviting's got my pulse kicking into overtime. With every moan, every gasp that leaves my lips, I need your touch something sinister. What have you done to me? What have you turned me into? I groan out your name. It tastes so good on my tongue.

My hand is a poor substitute, a mediocre stand-in for your wet heat wrapped around me. My free hand covers my mouth to muffle the noise as I slide my calloused hand up and down my dick faster. My thumb slides over the head, spreading the clear fluid across the head of my cock making a lewd sound with each pump. I pull my hand away to spit on it for better lubrication.

I'll give you everything. You want me to show you how deep my obsession runs? To fuck you so hard you can't even walk? I'll give you every inch, every ounce, and then some. Today I met you, and today I lost my mind just to give it all to you.

So sticky and wet, and you haven't even touched me. All I wanna do is make a mess of you—wreck that tight little hole I know you got waiting for me til your legs shake and your walls quiver. Clenching around my cock, milking it til there's nothing left in me.

My breath catches as I grip my shaft, fisting myself at a relentless pace that would make my arm burn if I wasn't so fucking hot for you right now. The slickness of my palm, a mixture of spit and the prequel to my nut has me on the verge of cumming all over myself with every glide, but not fuckin' yet. It's too soon. I can't cum yet, not until you're riding me like a mechanical bull. I can see it already–you bouncing on my lap, pussy greedy as it swallows up my cock over and over. Sloppy to the point we don't know which of us is wetting each other up more.

I would watch as it disappears between your slick folds. I could almost feel it.

The familiar pull starts in the base of my spine as my balls tighten and ache–heavy and full just for you. Fuck. My stroking slows and I grip my balls just enough to prolong the feeling. Nice and easy.

"You and I fit together so good, huh baby?" I rasp out, trying to catch my breath. I can't contain the animalistic sounds leaving my throat as I indulge myself in your beauty. In my mind, we're in bed together and I'm worshiping you like the angel that you are.

"Ah… just like that," I whisper with a soft moan as my eyes slip shut and I work my pound of flesh. My thumb teases the tip again, gliding over the sensitive bundle of nerves just below it, and I let the friction and the pressure in my lower abdomen build with each stroke. The words 'Good boy, indeed,' echo in my head, driving my hand to move with a purpose. You're giving me purpose.

"Sh-shit." My body stiffens, and I buck into my palm as I lose myself in you, all for you. For one split second, it's just you and me–in your room, in the elevator, on my car seat–there's only you. My grip tightens, and I thrust up into the circle of my fist.

In my mind, you're on your knees, looking up at me with those beautiful, wide eyes. Your pretty lips are parted, waiting, a hint of tongue glistening in anticipation to take me in. "Fuck." I pump myself faster, the veins on my hand standing out just a little bit more from the strain.. I can almost hear the soft sounds of your whimpers. Haa... I imagine your voice moaning my name. My name. I wanna hear it. I want you begging me to fuck you full.

'Good boy.' "Good boy." 'Good boy.' "Good boy," I repeat your words like a mantra replaying in my head.

My eyes roll back. My hips jerk forward into my hand as my orgasm builds, the pressure peaking. I bite my lip, groaning as thick ropes of cum splatter the steering wheel with creamy white streaks. It's an intense release, but it's not enough. You're not here. It's just me.

I want it to be you, baby. It's supposed to be you. It's such a fucking waste because it should have been given to you – deep. All this sticky mess is yours.

The feeling washes over me in waves. Aftershocks pulse through my dick as buttery nut continues to spurt and dribble down my length. Your face flashes through my mind, fueling euphoric bliss. I relax into the seat, and let out a satisfied sigh, opening my eyes to see the mess I made. Gotta clean this shit up before anyone sees the monster I became in just one hour straight of intrusive thoughts and 15 minutes of exposure to you.

Coming down is hazy as I tuck myself back into my jumpsuit, snatching the glove box open for some napkins to clean up. I wipe my hand first, then the steering wheel as much as I can. "Tsk, it's in the fuckin' stitching."

I've never cum so hard, so fast before. It's a little embarrassing, but baby, look at the material. If you can make a grown-ass man like me cream his pants after a fifteen-minute meet-and-greet then...shit. You must be amazing. A fuckin' goldmine I wanna be inside of… right after I get my car detailed, of course. You deserve a pristine chariot after all.

Whipping out of the parking lot, I head home with you still on my mind. You live here now, right between the part of me that's tryna figure out how the fuck I'm gonna love somebody and the part that's got no doubts at all about drinking your bath water. I want to be a part of you, Y/n. I want to be the one you turn to when you need somebody to talk to, somebody to laugh with, somebody to fuck. I want to be your everything.

You want me too, don't you? Please, tell me you do. Please.