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Falling Prey

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Will kept his promise. Even though it had been relatively easy securing a burner phone, he had intentionally kept his distance from Abigail, if only to alleviate suspicion of their camaraderie. The less people knew, the better. He didn't need further accusations of him lacking objectivity.

About three weeks later, he finally felt compelled to give Abigail a call. Shifting with discomfort, Will tucked one hand into his pocket as the other tightly clutched his own phone. His expression grew guarded when he heard the other line pick up.

"Abigail," he choked, guilt-stricken as he anxiously began to bounce his knees. "I hope…I-I hope you can forgive me for the radio silence. I warned you this might happen, because we're both under surveillance."

Abigail was a suspect (in Jack's eyes), and Will, himself, was being watched to ensure that he wasn't falling prey to grief over his own recent misfortunes. They didn't know the half of it…

"How are you feeling?"

The three weeks of complete silence had hurt Abigail. She hadn't expected it to be so abrupt, and for so long. She thought that Will had forgotten about her, or that he had come to his senses and decided to stay as far away from her as possible. So when she got a call, she had been taken by surprise.

"I didn't know if I was going to hear from you again," she admitted. "I'm… I-I'm feeling okay." She shrugged as she sat on her hospital bed.

Will closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose as he nodded. "I know, I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm aware that I can't undo all the hurt and fear that you must have felt, but it was necessary… The sad fact of the matter is, we're going to have to live like this for a long while. Jack's not going to give up until there's an answer, so this could go on for years."

With any luck, Boyle's disappearance would become a cold case long before then.

"When will they stop?" Abigail asked, biting her bottom lip. "When can I get out of here?"

Wincing at the pleading, desperate tone of her voice, Will cleared his throat. "By 'they,' I assume you mean the Bureau? They won't stop for a while," he admitted. "If one of your doctors is willing to clear you, then…w-well, I suppose I could come forward with my offer of housing you. It's been enough time that it won't seem quite so unorthodox." Frowning, he added, "Alana, ah…Dr. Bloom might be opposed, but since you're legally an adult, you should be able to make that decision for yourself." He hesitated. "Are they treating you alright? Are you being properly taken care of?"

Abigail closed her eyes. "They aren't mean, if that's what you're asking." They weren't exactly kind either. Some of the nurses believed she was a killer. They were right, but they didn't know that for sure. "But… I… no." She sighed and shifted on her bed. The mattress she'd been given was hard, and it reminded her of one she'd find in a prison… She was a prisoner here, but the main difference was she wasn't wearing stripes.

Will's mouth twitched into a bittersweet smile. "Being 'not mean' is good," he softly said. "Maybe if you're lucky, you can find someone to go easy on you here and there…like bend the rules a bit."

In other words, a sucker like himself. He knew all too well that his guilt made him beholden to Abigail's every whim and fancy, and yet he couldn't view her as manipulative. Alana was wrong.

Abigail ignored him. "You're the last person I've touched," she admitted, and looked out the window of her room. "Am I being weird if I miss touch?" She missed being able to hug someone, or ever place her hand on someone's shoulder.

Leaning against the couch cushions, Will's chest ached at the broken smallness in Abigail's voice. "No," he gently assured her. "It's…i-it's not wrong or unnatural to miss tactile interaction. In fact, it's perfectly normal. Human beings are meant to coexist with one another, so I think it'd only be strange if you didn't miss it a little."

He, himself, yearned for companionship and physical connection on occasion, but he rarely indulged. It was far too reckless a concept for him to enjoy.

"When I came to your hotel room…" Abigail paused, wondering if she should stop talking. She should, she knew that, but she also knew that she needed this. She had to continue. "You were hard." She said the words, and for a brief moment she was internally screaming and scolding herself. But when it came to talking about touch, Will's bulge had popped into her mind. She had wanted to touch him.

"If it had been any other day, I… I would have touched you. I wanted to."

Will grew ash-white and gripped at his phone. "Abigail," he steadily warned. "This is not appropriate."

Neither was his bodily reaction toward a sick, depraved dream about murdering her, and yet there they were. It would seem that they'd reached a crossroads.

Swallowing, he anxiously rubbed his whiskered cheek and shook his head. "You don't know what you want," he finally said. "Adrenaline can make us act foolishly. What you felt, undoubtedly, was a more primordial reaction to our situation. You're just…you're young and confused."

Abigail frowned at the warning, at Will telling her that this wasn't appropriate. Did he think she wasn't aware of how inappropriate this was? Did he think she was some naive little flower? She wasn't. She had seen the same number of horrid things he had.

"Don't be condescending to me, Will," she said, her tone snappish, firm, but not unkind. She knew she had to be stern, or else he would dismiss her advances again. "I may be young, but I'm aware of what I want." Her voice became a bit softer, a little lower, seductive.

"I wanted to touch you," she said, and she recalled just how…captivating Will had looked. Despite having been panicked at the time, she had noticed. Really, it was only inevitable for her to start to desire him. He was kind, protective, smart, shy, gentle…and he had done everything for her. How could she not want him?

It suddenly felt as if there were sand in his lungs. Will felt weightless as he heavily sank back against his cushions, his hand lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"You barely even know me," he cautioned. "Helping you bury a body doesn't make me…i-it doesn't make me a good person, least of all for whatever you're proposing."

"I want you to touch me," Abigail said again, her tone more confident. She knew her cheeks were blushing red, but she refused to let her embarrassment show in her voice.

Promptly dropping his hand down into his lap, Will swallowed and curled his hand into a fist. "You know I can't do that," he whispered. "Especially not now… Think of our alibis, Abigail." It was a feeble excuse at best, but he was becoming increasingly nettled. "Meeting in person wouldn't be wise."

"This isn't because you helped me bury a body," Abigail said, making sure to keep her voice down. Even though she had a private room, she didn't need anyone eavesdropping. "This is because you've been here for me, through everything. You've been protecting me, taking care of me, being kind to me… Are you saying it's wrong for me to want that?" She knew that wasn't what he was implying, but she also knew she was going to have to be a little crafty into getting him to relent.

"Of course not," Will said, his brow knitting in frustration, "but do you have any idea what a…w-what a physical relationship could do to the plan we've upheld? It wouldn't take the Bureau many leaps and bounds to say I helped you."

"Our alibis will remain unaffected," Abigail promised, looking out the window, "and…just because we can't meet in person… It doesn't mean we can't have some fun. If I was with you right now, I'd be running my hand along your thigh, letting it creep towards the crotch of your jeans."

Face flushing a healthy pink, Will's breath hitched and he leaned his head back against the couch cushions, once more pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. This was it. He'd officially reached an all-time low. Because no matter how much he denied this aloud, he knew Abigail was behaving this way out of some sort of misplaced grief, and he knew he wanted to help her heal in any way that he could, even if that meant…

"Are you wet for me, Abigail?"

Just saying the words made him reel with shame and self-loathing, and clamping his teeth, he shakily tucked a thumb beneath the waistband of his pants. He could feel a sharp, pulsing heat stretching at the front of his boxers, and squeezing his eyes tightly closed, he swallowed low in his throat. Was this what it had all come down to? Him, depraved and lonely, taking advantage of his victim's daughter at her most vulnerable? The realization made his stomach churn.

Abigail's heart skipped a beat, admittedly startled that he was finally playing along. "Yes," she answered, her voice filled with clear arousal, the sweet tone thicker than before. She could feel the wetness between her thighs and wondered how wet her cotton panties were. She quickly glanced at her door. She couldn't lock it, but given the time, she didn't think anyone would walk in.

Relaxing back onto her bed, Abigail closed her eyes and trembled, her left hand holding her cell phone while her right began to caress her own body. "I wanted to drop to my knees and suck you off… I still want to." She slipped her hand under her pajama pants, her fingers grazing over her underwear, pressing against her mound. "I want to feel your cock in my mouth, Will. I want to taste you."

Will shifted in his seat, a restless, creeping ache lancing through him at her whimper. Her voice was far too gentle, far too sweet to be alluding to the things he was hearing. Deep inside, he couldn't help but wonder if she was accustomed to playing a part – if she was used to acting and manipulating in order to get her way.

Closing his eyes, Will exhaled and shook his head. "Abigail…"

She kept talking, his feet propping on the coffee table as he slipped a hand further beneath his waistband. His fingers grazed his hardness once, with hesitance, before succumbing to a shaking squeeze. He shuddered and put her on speaker phone.

"Take off your panties," he entreated. "Once you're wet enough, I want you to finger yourself. Can you do that for me, sweetheart? We're going to make you feel good again."

This was wrong. God, this was so wrong. What had started off as a debased, warped attempt at giving her comfort had twisted into something beyond his understanding. And quite frankly, he didn't want to understand.

Abigail was quickly pulled into the intoxicating game they were playing. She slipped her hand into her panties, and with her fingertips began to tease around her clit. She sighed into the phone, giving a pleasant, soft noise. Delicate.

"Yes, Will." His name fell from her lips and tasted wonderful. She could feel her core heating up, and her nub swelled beneath her fingers. "Wrap your hand around your cock and squeeze yourself. God- I want to feel your cock in my hand…" Her eyes darkened as she imagined Will jerking himself off. "Stroke yourself for me."

Will gripped at his knee with one hand, his knuckles white and shaking as Abigail spoke. He kept palming himself through the thin material of his boxers, yet he wouldn't quite allow himself the pleasure of indulgence – not yet. It seemed wrong to make this about himself, when in this moment it was undoubtedly about her. It had always been about her. What she wanted, what she needed, and hearing the soft, enraptured way she spoke filled him with a warm, stinging heat. He was glad to be able to bring her that type of pleasure.

That was why, he decided, that whenever Abigail's tone grew authoritative, he almost mechanically began to push his pants and boxers down to his knees. He would do anything for her – be anything for her.

"Whatever you need," he whispered.

Abigail pushed her pajama bottoms and panties down, though not all the way off just in case she needed to hastily pull them back up. "I'm soaked for you," she told him, "and I'm slipping one of my fingers inside- ah…" She purposefully allowed the small noise to escape from her lips. She wanted to tease him as much as she could.

Will's head was pounding, and as Abigail painted a very graphic, vivid picture of just what she was doing, he shamefully found himself mimicking her movements – or at least, what he imagined them to be. With slow, fumbling little strokes, he grimaced and began to jerk through the tight ring of his hand.

"Fuck," he swore. Teeth gnashing, he stroked and pulled on his length, his heels digging into the coffee table as he arched. "Abigail, I…I-I want you to add another finger. Build up the pressure and stretch yourself, nice and deep – then, when you're ready, add a third. It'll be like having me inside you."

Stop. Please, for the love of God, shut your damn mouth. Leave her alone. Stop tainting everything you touch.

Abigail was sopping wet already, but hearing Will's voice growl as he swore was making her arousal grow. She let out a slight whine and happily obeyed him. She slipped a second finger inside of herself. "Will… I want your fingers inside me. I wanna be stretched by you, I want your large fingers manipulating me however you want." She was good at making her needs and desires known. This wasn't exactly the first time she had done this. She hadn't been allowed to date, so any secret affairs were usually done over the phone.

After working herself open, she slipped in a third finger. "A-ah…" She arched, her grip on her phone tightening. "I-I have three," she whispered, "but it's not enough. I need to feel you. I want to be stretched around your cock, I want you to make me feel overstuffed."

This was obscene. Will had always been relatively vanilla when it came to sex, so it unnerved him how a petite, 19-year-old girl could reduce him to a trembling, pleading mess – a girl he was supposed to protect. As Abigail cried out into the phone, he grit his teeth and began to briskly stroke himself. His erection strained and throbbed and he gave a low, growling snarl as he began to leak prematurely. He imagined she was beautiful right then. Lying there flushed, arching and shivering, with her legs spread and her hand working tirelessly between her thighs.

"Does that feel good, Abi?" he whispered. "Make sure you rub your clit for me."

Abigail eagerly obeyed as Will instructed her to rub her clit. The pressure was building up in her core, and she knew that it would only be a matter of time until she fell into that deep, euphoric abyss. "It feels good- so good, Will," she whispered into the phone, her breath stuttering. "Pick up the pace… Tease your cockhead with your thumb, fuck your hand harder and pretend it's me."

Ever obedient, Will dragged his thumb over his tip, teasing himself to the point of pained agony, before harshly stroking himself. His pre-cum aided in the faster pace, and made it all the easier to picture Abigail with her bright, mischievous blue eyes as he fucked her into the cushions.

"Oh, Will… I want you so badly…" she moaned, hearing his breathing pick up. Her own orgasm was coming faster now. Her body was hot, the heat in her core spreading wildly through her.

Groaning, Will hunched over and pulled on himself more strongly, his posture tensing amidst guilt and arousal and sheer revulsion. Despite the wrongness, he could no longer deny what he was doing. This was a form of sex. This was debauchery, and as a heady, tingling sensation formed in the pit of his stomach, he barely managed to grit out an, "I'm gonna cum," before he spilled over his stroking fingers.

Abigail heard the gritty warning that Will gave, and then heard his thick moans as he came. She rubbed her clit harder, fucking her fingers into herself at a fast pace, until finally – finally, she reached that nirvana and came. "Ah! Will!" she cried as she fell over the proverbial cliff into ecstasy.

Despite the fact Will had already come undone (and quite embarrassingly, at that), the sound of Abigail's sharp, breathy cries caused his cock to fatten up again. He dragged a hand down over his mouth, squeezing his eyes closed as she screamed her pleasure into the phone.

And then, all was still.

Breathing heavily, Will took the cell off speaker phone and lifted it back up to his ear, swallowing as he attempted to ignore his residual arousal.

He wanted to ask Abigail if she felt alright – if this was okay – but ultimately knew she would scold him for it. She wasn't a child. She was young, but she wasn't naive.

Instead, he huskily whispered, "You did so good for me, sweetheart."

It shamed him that he wished she came on his cock for real, riding him into the cushions as he desperately thrust up into her soaked, pliant warmth.

"I wish I could have seen you…could have felt you cum inside of me," Abigail whispered, her voice still so sweet, so soft. "I want that." She smiled, because she knew she would get that one day. She would make sure of it.

Swallowing, Will heaved a shaky breath before announcing, "I'm going to get a shower, Abi. I suggest that you do the same, just in case there's any…mess to take care of. When you're in there, are you going to think of me?"

Stop it. For fuck's sake, just stop. Hadn't the prior debauchery been enough?

"I'll think of your hands on my body. I'll think of you taking care of me," Abigail promised, feeling her thighs tense with want. "And when I go back to bed, I'll imagine your arms wrapped around me." Her tone grew stern as she added, "Don't wait three weeks to talk to me again, Will."

Awkwardly, Will clutched at his phone with one hand and grabbed a bunch of tissues with the other, shamed and red-faced as he began cleaning himself up. "You know that's not a good idea," he muttered. But then, was any of this a good idea? He'd officially revoked his common sense the moment he and Abigail had met. Scrubbing more vigorously at a spot on his pants, he added, "Are you even on birth control? I'm not going to…I-I can't…"

God, was he seriously entertaining her fantasies now? Phone sex was one thing, but actual penetration seemed far too risky. This was becoming less and less about her safety, and more and more about his own perversions. He was beginning to realize he would do anything for her. Entrapped by his loneliness, he found himself daydreaming of pleasing her, of licking her until she screamed and came in wet, erratic spasms around his tongue.

Closing his eyes, Will shook his head. "I'm beginning to think it's smarter to wait to call. This isn't a good thing, Abigail… What we have, it's…it's not normal. We're bound by trauma."

Abigail frowned. "Maybe it's the rest of the world that isn't normal." Hesitating, she added, "Goodbye, Will. And stay safe."

Expression softening, Will nodded. "You too. I'll call soon."

And with that, he hung up, shivering and already palming himself with need.