You’d never been one for following rules—especially not your dad’s. Butcher made it clear: no mixing business with personal life. Yet here you were, pressed against the wall by Soldier Boy, his rough hands gripping your waist, his lips claiming yours with a dominance you hadn’t known you craved.

Your dad’s orders were simple: keep an eye on him. Unlike the younger guys, who tripped over themselves to impress you, he was different. He didn’t just flirt; he took. He didn’t ask; he demanded. And God help you, but that dominance made your knees weak.

When his thigh slid between yours, and his mouth crushed against yours again, you didn’t fight it. He was solid, intense, and God help you, you liked it. There was no hesitation. No second-guessing. Just heat, his beard scraping against your skin, his fingers digging into your hips as he pressed you flush against the cold wall.

"Knew you wanted this," he murmured against your lips, voice deep and rough like a whiskey-soaked promise. "All that attitude—just needed a real man to put you in your place."

You barely registered the door opening before your dad’s voice cut through the heat.

”Oi! What the fuck is this?!"

Butcher’s glare could’ve burned a hole through Soldier Boy, while Hughie looked like he might faint. But Soldier Boy just smirked, "Relax, pops," he said, straightening his jacket. "Just a little old-fashioned bonding."

"Jesus Christ," Your dad seethed, his expression somewhere between disbelief and rage. "I told you to keep an eye on him, not fuckin’ let him shove his tongue down your throat!"

Hughie stood frozen in the doorway, eyes darting between you and Soldier Boy. But Ben? He just smirked, taking his sweet time stepping back from you, his hands dragging over your waist before finally letting go.

Butcher’s eyes darkened, his jaw ticking as his fingers curled into fists.

You swallowed hard, wiping your lips as you stared at Soldier Boy, who looked way too pleased with himself.

You were so dead.