Eccentric ✓

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

It happened about a month later.

Bill woke up missing Oliver so much it felt like someone had severed off one of his limbs. He groaned, rolling over onto his stomach while his heart ached like someone was squeezing at the organ.

Gods, he missed Oliver so much. Whose idea had it been for them to take a break? Surely it hadn't been him. Why would he do that? There wasn't a day that didn't go by where Bill didn't wonder if he'd made the right decision to put his relationship with Oliver on hold.

He opened his eyes, and blinked in surprise when he realised he was hard.

Since he'd taken that drug and been at the hospital, he hadn't been able to get it up. His therapist said perhaps it related to how he'd felt while he'd been under the worst of the drug's effects, aroused and desperate and vulnerable, and his body didn't feel safe being in that state anymore.

"Give yourself time," was what she'd said. The fact that he couldn't get hard anymore was one of the reasons Bill had decided to take a break from Oliver.

Except now he was hard.

"Fuck," he whispered, automatically rocking his hips into the mattress. It felt so fucking good.

He closed his eyes, clutching the sheets underneath him and trying not to think of anything in particular, just in case it sent his dick shrinking, instead focusing on the sensation. The way the fabric of his boxers clung to the wet tip, rubbing against the sensitive underside –

"Uhn." His hips hitched into the pleasure, and he was gasping and rutting like a teenager until he spilled into his pyjamas. "Fuck."

If Oliver had been here, maybe he'd be curled around Bill's back. He would have reached around his hip to take Bill in his hands and stroke his cock until he was gasping and begging.

Bill's dick twitched at the thought, and his fingers clenched.

The urge to message Oliver was almost crippling, but Bill resisted.

He wasn't ready. Not yet.

Fuck, but he missed him. This past month had been the hardest of his life. If not for Finn literally watching him like a hawk, he'd have caved and messaged Oliver when he wasn't ready, just because of how badly he missed the alpha. That first week, he'd gotten drunk almost every night, crying about it, while Finn nodded solemnly and patted his back, all the while keeping his phone out of reach so he wouldn't embarrass himself.

It hadn't all been about Oliver though, part of his depression had also been about the drug, and the fact that it hadn't worked. Dealing with and accepting the results of that had been almost excruciating. His therapist helped, giving him exercises and things to do to distract himself, but he'd felt so awful – awful enough not to leave his bed for two days straight, feeling like the physical manifestation of failure itself – that she'd recommended him trying a scent blocker. It wasn't perfect, but at least he didn't smell so wrong anymore, even though now he didn't smell like anything at all.

It had been heart wrenching to see Oliver's confused face when he noticed Bill's scent was gone.

His phone called at him, and Bill resisted the siren song with effort, leaving his bed so he could start preparing for the day.

He was going back to work today. As he got ready and the time to leave drew closer, his anxiety became almost a physical thing. Seth had been more than generous, giving him a whole month off, even asking if he needed to tell the rest of the precinct that he was an omega.