After you joined the gang a few months back, Bill and you had grown a bit closer than outwardly appeared. He would rather die than admit you and him were close. He hated that he liked men. It was often replaced by a deep hatred for you when you'd finish cuddling during those dark nights and he'd be a different, nasty man when that sun rose. He was irrational, often wondering if he should just kill you and maybe he'd never feel like this again about another man, but the rest of him craved your presence like nothing else.

It was another sweet night. You were both out patrolling a long ways away from camp before things got sidetracked as usual. You quickly ended up half naked and pressed up together against a large, broken tree. He pressed his hands on either side of your body, holding you just where he wanted. He wasn't particularly good at any of this kind of thing- but he made up for it with the lust and passion you drew out of him.