Under His Protection

Author's note: the entire personal backstory of the "Sarah" character is based on me. There really was a Kevin in my life, and he really did react that way in response to my actions. I partly wrote this story to heal from all of this.

Oliver is based on Oliver Queen from the TV show "Arrow."

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"We consider this threat to be serious. We've assigned you a bodyguard until we find out who's orchestrating this," William said.

Sarah let out a slow, shaky breath. Her boss, William, sounded so calm, and yet so serious. So, either he wasn't worried, or he was pretending not to be. She had a sinking feeling that it was the latter.

Sarah was a successful assistant district attorney. She had gone after rapists, murderers, and had even assisted on a serial killer case. But things didn't get scary—really scary—until she brought embezzlement charges against a notorious pundit. He was a member of the alt-right, and his fans were even more crazy than he was. They had been targeting her with threats and harassment ever since the trial started. The police had investigated, supposedly. She had forwarded every message, every letter, every threat. And each time, they assured her that the threats were not serious, that they were meant to get under her skin, and that she didn't need extra protection.

Well, the threats had indeed gotten under her skin. But, she hadn't let them affect her work, mostly through sheer force of will. But now, today, she could hardly breathe. Today, either things had changed, or the police had been wrong all along. She wasn't sure which was worse.

"Ah, Oliver, you're here," William said, motioning to the door.

"Sarah, meet Oliver, your bodyguard."

Sarah shook his hand, her head spinning. Despite her anxiety, she noticed how attractive he was. Tall, muscular, with piercing blue eyes. He looked like could be very dangerous. He also seemed like someone who could protect her, someone she could trust. It was a strange feeling, and not one she entirely liked.

Sarah barely followed the rest of the conversation. She felt numb. Finally, she was in Oliver's SUV and he was driving her home.

"Other than work, I recommend not going out in public. Unless it's absolutely necessary," Oliver said.

"Don't worry, I don't have much of a social life," Sarah replied. "But, it's my friend's birthday tomorrow night. We're all going out for drinks."

"That's fine," Oliver said. He was quiet the rest of the ride home. He was a man of few words, she noticed.

Of course, Oliver had realized that their silence was awkward. He had tried start a conversation a half-dozen times, but somehow couldn't bring himself to say anything. What could he say? Everything he thought of seemed too simple, too trite. He couldn't ask her about her job, that would obviously be a tough subject. And small talk seemed so... well, small. He couldn't imagine that she would be impressed with his conversation skills, anyway. She was smart, educated, and intellectual. He was big and strong and knew how to protect people.

He had always been better with action. That's why he had joined the Marines, right out of college. He didn't enjoy taking orders, but there was a beautiful simplicity about it. But, war had taken its toll, emotionally and physically. Being a bodyguard seemed like a good fallback plan.

And, the long hours meant that he had an easy excuse whenever women inevitably wanted to spend more time with him. He only did casual relationships these days. He was always honest, of course, and yet women seemed to think they could change him. They couldn't. The way he saw it, love was a four-letter word. At least, it had been for the past two years.

He sighed under his breath and hoped the rest of the assignment would feel less awkward. He had never felt quite so out of place.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

By the next evening, Sarah didn't want to see her friends. Going out for drinks was such a normal thing to do. And nothing was normal, not since yesterday. She'd spent the last day in a daze. Nothing felt real. Nothing seemed to matter.

She'd already decided not to tell her friends who Oliver really was. It was easier that way. And easier to pretend that she wasn't afraid, that she wasn't in danger.

As they walked up to the pub, Oliver couldn't help but notice how beautiful Sarah looked. She was wearing a short black skirt and tank top, which had a lovely contrast against her pale skin. Her dark hair was done up in some kind of complicated, sexy style. Her eyes and lips were bright and shiny. He had to force himself to stop staring. She was absolutely stunning.

Did his cock just twitch? Well, fuck. As if the night wasn't already awkward enough.

He'd had his share of beautiful clients, of course. And clients who were drawn to him, especially because he was protecting them. There were even clients who assumed he would sleep with them, just because they were attractive, famous, and willing. He had never been tempted, not even once. Annoyed, yes. Many times. But never—ever—tempted.

And yet, Sarah was different. She was cool, confident, and pretended that she wasn't rattled. Pretended that she wasn't terrified. But Oliver knew she was.

It was the way her hands were shaking in the car ride home, though she had tried to hide it. It was how quiet and withdrawn she was, though William had described her as outgoing and gregarious. And, it was how she hardly looked at him. As if she could will him not to be there and no longer be in danger.

After he accepted the assignment, he had learned more about her. He discovered that she was accomplished, talented, and as sharp as a tack. She was a rising star in the department, and that was why she had been given such high-profile cases. Oliver had watched an interview where the host had tried to paint the DA's office as overly zealous, using facts taken out of context and inflammatory rhetoric. Sarah had remained calm and simply eviscerated the host, laying down fact after fact until he gave up and went to commercial. Oliver still recalled the fleeting look of shock on the man's face. He had probably assumed that the slender, petite woman was no match for him. Ah well, his mistake.

Sarah felt awkward too. Not only was she feeling out of sorts, but Oliver was so clearly not looking forward to the evening. The way he looked at her was just so... blank. Was he deliberately avoiding her eyes?

Sarah introduced Oliver to her friends and caught a raised eyebrow from Joanne. As soon as he looked away, Joanne leaned forward and whispered, "Sarah. He's cute! Tell me about him."

"He's a blind date, actually," Sarah replied. "And yes," she added, rolling her eyes, "I know it's weird to bring him here. I just wanted an easy escape if I needed it."

"Ok, but he doesn't look like he wants to escape," Joanne said, pointedly. She'd noticed the small, subtle heat in Oliver's eyes when he glanced in Sarah's direction. "He looks like he wants to leave with you, actually. For some definition of the word 'leave'".

Sarah's stomach fluttered. She imagined Oliver on top of her on the living room floor. His lips on hers, whispering dirty things in her ear. His hard cock pressed against her body. His touch on her skin, as she moaned and bucked against him in anticipation. She shook her head slightly, trying to push the thoughts out of her mind.

That would never happen. Oliver was a professional. Not to mention, he barely wanted to be around her, much less roll around on the living room floor with her. They had hardly exchanged two words since they met, she'd noticed.

The rest of the hour passed slowly for both Sarah and Oliver. Sarah pretended that she was enjoying her friends' company, and at times almost—almost—managed to convince herself as well. Oliver pretended he didn't love watching Sarah talk, seeing her smile, or hearing her laugh. She was smart, witty, and outgoing. But, when no one was looking, he saw the sad, distant look in her eyes. He was surprised by how much it bothered him.

Finally, Sarah said her goodbyes and they walked outside. "Thank you for this," she said, touching his arm lightly. "I know you didn't want to be here."

"It's fine," he said. "I've been in a war zone. I can handle a few drunk friends," he said with a small grin.

He hardly smiled, Sarah had noticed. And his smile was amazing. It lit up his entire face. She smiled back.

A moment later, she was grabbing his arm in panic. "Let's go. Before he sees me," she gasped, breathless. Oliver stiffened, placing a protective hand on the small of her back.

It was too late. Kevin approached them with a small, satisfied smile. She wanted to punch him. "Sarah... you said we'd have one last dinner. But now you're not texting me back," he said, standing close to her. Too close.

"That'd because I blocked you, asshole," Sarah spat.

Oliver put his arm around Sarah and pulled her closer. "And who are you?" he demanded, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, that's cute. Like you're the only guy she's fucking," Kevin sneered, stepping even closer.

"Right now he is," Sarah replied, giving Oliver a flirty smile. She ran her fingers slowly over his chest. His hard, muscular chest, she couldn't help but notice.

"But mostly because of his cock, which is... big," she said meaningfully. "And he always makes me cum," Sarah added, her voice breathy. A bit more breathy than she intended, she realized.

Oliver tried to ignore her words. He'd love nothing more than to fuck her until she came, over and over again. Sex with her would most certainly be intense and amazing. Mind blowing, probably.

Fuck. He should not be having these thoughts. Especially not right now. And about a client? What the hell was wrong with him?

"You are such a slut," Kevin spat.

"So what if I am? I never promised you anything," Sarah replied, trying to keep her voice even.

Oliver stepped between them, towering over Kevin. "She's mine. And she told you to fuck off. This is your last warning, you little prick," Oliver growled possessively.

"Maybe you should know some of her history," Kevin snarled. "After I fucked her for hours, she went off and fucked three other guys that same night. I wouldn't have fucked her if I knew what a disgusting slut she was."

Oliver's movements were fast and brutal. In an instant, he twisted Kevin's arm behind his back, making Kevin cry out in pain. Then he slammed him against the wall, hard.

"Sounds like she needed to get the taste of you out of her mouth," Oliver growled. "Like I said, she's mine. If you ever, ever go near her again, I will fucking end you." With that, Oliver pushed Kevin to the ground, causing Kevin to stumble awkwardly.

Oliver turned and pulled Sarah into his arms. "It's ok, he won't bother you again," he murmured. He stroked her hair gently. "It's ok, sweetheart. It's ok," he repeated. "I've got you now. You're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you."

He hadn't intended for the embrace to be so personal. A hug, sure, because she looked like she needed it. But the way he wanted to protect her, it went beyond just being a bodyguard. He cared about her, he realized with a start. Someone he hardly knew, but who had every quality he admired in a woman. Qualities that were so very rare, especially in such a young woman. And such an attractive woman, he found himself mentally adding. The thought unnerved him. Is that why he had called her "sweetheart"? He hadn't intended to use that word, certainly not.

When Kevin had said those things, Oliver had felt a nearly uncontrollable rage. To say those things about any woman was indefensible. But about Sarah? That was unforgivable. Somehow, he had managed to hold back, because what he had wanted to do was beat the man into a pulp.

And so, he held her close and allowed himself to comfort her. And he pretended that he was only doing it because it was what she needed.

Sarah, too, held onto Oliver tightly, and cried out of shock and relief. And confusion. Oliver slamming Kevin against the wall was brutal, but also incredibly hot. He was so strong. So possessive. So... dominant.

Oliver held Sarah's face in his hands. "I'm so sorry for what he did to you. Slut-shaming you, that's so fucking cowardly." He paused. "I had to hold back. What I did was scare him. What I wanted to do," Oliver said, letting his words hang in the air.

Sarah looked up at him, her eyes bright with tears. "Oliver," she swallowed. "He... he wasn't lying. I—"

"Shhh," Oliver interrupted, his breath against her ear. "You don't need to explain. That secret wasn't his to tell."

"I want to explain," she persisted. "I don't want you to judge me."

"Oh, sweetheart," he replied, his voice soft and gentle. "I could never judge you for something like that." Damn, he realized, too late. There was that word again.

"And yes, I realized he was telling the truth. He was very specific," Oliver added.

"We weren't exclusive. We were both very clear about that," Sarah said quickly. She realized that she cared what Oliver thought of her, though she wasn't quite sure why. Whatever else she might be, she was always honest. He needed to know that.

"Yes, I gathered it was casual. I also gather that you may have a kink or two. Nothing wrong with that," Oliver said with a grin.

"So, you don't... think less of me?" Sarah asked.

"God no," Oliver laughed. "I'm definitely curious. But also I meant it when I said you don't need to explain." Oliver let out a slow breath.

"Sarah," he said gently. "I can see that he really hurt you, more than you're letting on. But you didn't deserve that—not any of that. Not what he did tonight, and not all the shit he obviously did before. Just like you don't deserve what's happening now. You haven't done anything wrong. I'm here for you, Sarah. You can talk to me any time."

At his tender tone, Sarah felt a swirl of so many emotions. She was still shaken, but she also felt safe with him, with her head resting against his chest. His broad, muscular chest. She could hear his heart beating. Was his heart racing, just like hers? As she took a breath, she smelled his cologne. So strong. So masculine. So powerful.

Oliver held her until her breathing returned to normal. He loved the feel of her soft, beautiful hair beneath his fingers. He loved feeling her small body pressed up against his large frame. He loved the feeling of protecting her, of taking care of her. Allowing her to put his trust in her. Being worthy of her trust. He let out a small sigh as he smelled her perfume. So sweet. So intense. Just like her.

After a few more minutes, Oliver pulled away reluctantly. "Let's go home," he said gently. "You've had a rough night." He lightly kissed her forehead and headed toward the car. And left Sarah breathless, with even that chaste kiss.

Well, fuck. This was no longer just a crush. She definitely had feelings for Oliver. And she desperately wished she didn't.

____

Later that night, Sarah attempted to sleep, to no avail. Whenever she closed her eyes, she remembered her brief, yet traumatic, relationship with Kevin. How he had unleashed his rage on her, telling her she was nothing more than a worthless slut. A slut who hadn't appreciated what he had given her. A slut who hadn't deserved his time and attention, and who would never get it again.

And she had let him shame her. It was a trigger for her, and a trap she fell into over and over again. It started with her strict, religious parents who had done something horrific — almost unthinkable — when they discovered that Sarah had slept with her boyfriend at age 18. Something so terrible that it still gave her nightmares.

Later, it was her supposed friend Karen, who backstabbed and ostracized Sarah for having a one-night stand with the wrong person. He was a friend who happened to be the roommate of Sarah's ex. As soon as the ex got jealous, Karen got involved. As Karen explained it, it would have been fine if Sarah were actually dating the guy. But, since it was just casual sex, it was clearly avoidable. What the actual fuck.

There were many more stories like that. She flirted with the wrong guy. She should have known that someone else was interested. She caught the eye of the wrong man, and she was the one to blame.

Perhaps these people were jealous. Perhaps they were sexually repressed. But, time and time again, Sarah was told that sex was bad, that it was dirty, and that she was dirty for wanting to share it with someone. Boyfriend, friend, or stranger—it was not something she should ever do.

And that's why she had finally decided to reclaim her sexuality. She got into kink and BDSM. She went to swinger parties. She experimented and enjoyed the company of friends and partners who didn't judge her for who she was. People who celebrated her kinks, in fact.

And just like that, Kevin had unravelled everything. She no longer felt that she had reclaimed the term "slut." She felt guilt and shame, and felt that she had—once again—broken some unknown moral code.

So, although she was no longer afraid of Kevin, his words still haunted her. And she wondered what Oliver must think of her. He said he hadn't judged her, but she just couldn't bring herself to believe him.

It had been an unusual situation, even for her. She hadn't planned to see Kevin the same day that she was going to a party, but their plans had changed. The entire day had been an exciting thrill, until Kevin ruined the memory.

As the thoughts swirled around her head, Sarah felt the anxiety and panic building. She went to the kitchen for a glass of water, but her hands were shaking so badly that she dropped the glass. It fell to the floor with a loud crash and shattered.

In an instant, Oliver appeared. He hadn't been able to sleep, either. He had, in fact, been thinking about Sarah, trying to ignore the feelings that were building inside him. The uncomfortable, confusing feelings that he should never have for a client. Or anyone—at least not anymore.

"Are you ok? What happened?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"Sorry, I just broke a glass," she managed to say, between shallow breaths. "I think I'm having a panic attack," she gasped.

"Ok, let's sit down. I'll clean that up later," Oliver said, his voice calm and gentle as he guided her to the couch.

"Sit back, and take some deep breaths." He placed his hand on Sarah's back and counted out the inhales and exhales.

"Good. Now put your hand on your chest and focus on how it moves in and out." When he saw how badly her hand was shaking, he put his hand over hers, applying gentle pressure.

"That's right. In and out. Focus on your breath. Focus on the movement of your hand. You're doing great. You're calming down already."

Oliver put his arm around her and pulled her closer, his hand still over hers. "Just keep breathing slowly. It's ok. You're safe. I'm here. You'll get through this."

With a start, Oliver realized that he had forgotten to control his behavior. In fact, he hadn't even considered whether they were getting too personal. He just knew that she was hurting and that he needed to comfort her. There was simply no other option.

As he held her close, he was filled with affection and admiration for Sarah. She had been through hell, both today and over the past several months. It was amazing that she had gone so long without breaking down. And clearly, she was still battling many demons from her past. But, the pressure of having to put on a brave face was finally taking its toll.

Sarah slowly started to relax. Her breath slowed. She no longer felt as if her anxiety was going to swallow her whole. She finally felt more in control.