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the-kr8tor · 7 months ago

Text

HHAHAHAHAHHA you'll see!

Here's some 🩹 for your poor meow meow heart

Snake Eyes

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.6k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), TW death, CW blood and gore, CW violence, TW abuse mention, CW injury, CW guns, Cowboy AU, Wild west AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 6 >>> CHAPTER 7

Hobie looks at you before he exits the train car, wind blowing in his face, the loud chugging of engine roaring in his ears— but the only thing he could think of was you, you who stands behind him quietly as if you weren't right behind him. He'd take your hand in his, grasp blindly from behind to hold you and make his heart feel at ease with the simple gesture. He'd take your hand in his if not for his hands occupied with instruments of death. He hates that he can't stand not seeing you.

He still feels that he doesn't deserve you, he still feels that he hasn't done anything to deserve his atonement. In his entire life he has faced the worst things, dodged a hundred bullets, shot a hundred more, endured the soil in his lungs and faced death itself— but this is nothing compared to those, because you weren't there to see it, you weren't there to experience it just like how he did. You weren't caught in the crossfire, until now.

“Hobie,” your voice cuts through the fog that envelopes the mountain side where the train tracks wrap around like a snake eating itself. Your hand lays on top of his own that tightens around the doorknob to the next car. The same calloused hands that carry the weight of all of his wrongdoings and death he has committed. And yet, you still hold on to his rough hands like light at the end of a dark tunnel. “You're trembling,” he flicks his eyes downwards, seeing his hand shake under your own. “We can do this.” You smile, brightening up his view.

“What if we just leave.” His mind speaks before he even lets the thought escape. You blink, sliding your palm over to his thundering pulse. Everything overwhelms him, how his lips felt upon yours, how the smoke clings to his clothes and how everything is loud in his ears akin to lightning hitting and splitting a tree. He feels like that tree. “Uncouple the caboose and take the horses out of ‘ere.” He already knows what you're about to say. Leaving means giving up on the innocent bystanders behind the door, but if it's between them and you? He'd choose you everytime.

“And leave them?” You point towards the car door with your head. “What about Clementine and her family? We can't leave all those people behind, Hobie.” Your eyes shine in the moonlight, and he nods.

“Alright,” Hobie's vision plays tricks on him, he sees blood and carnage all over you. Your once hopeful eyes now lifeless, staring back at him without the shine he's used to. His heart pounds in his chest, he can tell that you're terrified too. “Just stay close to me, yeah?”

You grip tighter on his hand, feeling how cold he is and none of the usual warmth you're used to. “I'll stay close, I promise I got your back.”

“The second I open the door you duck and find a table or a fuckin'—”

You cup his jaw gently, “we'll be fine, we'll get out of this and ride into the sunset with Bucky and Cherry.” You try to be positive for him.

Hobie inhales, letting your honeyed scent waft over him. “If we get separated, head towards our cabin. We'll meet there.”

“And then what?”

He nervously chuckles. “I've got no bloody clue, love.”

“Me neither.” You snort, laying your forehead on his bicep briefly. “You ready, Mister Larry Brown?”

That puts a smile on his face. With a twist of the doorknob, you're met with a handful of men wearing shiny gold pins on their chests. They're startled by the sudden sight of you, and Hobie takes their shock as an opportunity to fan his gun, palm on the hammer, trigger finger pressing, bullets flying and hitting its mark quickly. They couldn't even take out their guns. The sound of their bodies hitting the ground made you sigh in relief. You think it's awful of you.

“Good shooting, Hobs.” You pat his back, hand lingering on his coat. Maybe it's your own nerves that's making you say such things.

Hobie recognizes that this is how you cope. “Rate it?”

You crack a wobbly smile, gun heavy in your hand. “Eight point five.”

He makes a face, “not that bad—” The sound of a bottle rolling across the floor immediately has Hobie raising his gun. An old man you recognize as the conductor comes out of the bar, hands raised in surrender. You both now notice the passengers hiding under tables and behind the bar. They're all unharmed, except for a few bruises and scratches. “How many?” His gun is still comfortably in his hand aiming below just in case. He's not taking any chances.

The older man doesn't speak, only shaking his head. He might be afraid of you and Hobie, seeing how the man next to you just flattened five men without hesitation. You want to tell him that there's nothing to be afraid of, but you fear that he won't believe you.

“He doesn't know. Knowing our bounties— if I was them I'd bring the whole cavalry.” Hobie mumbles, thanking the man with a nod. He takes bullets from his belt, immediately reloading the ones that he used up, metal rains down on the carpet. With a click, he gestures for you to follow while he walks towards the other side of the car; stepping over dead bodies and leaving blood trails in his wake. There's determination behind his jade eyes, and anger swirling behind them like a dust storm rolling just across the field. “They brought out the whole bloody lot of them for us.”

“Guess we're special.” You crouch down to take a rifle from one of the dead men. It's weirdly looking, there's a hunting knife strapped above the muzzle, all tied together by a thick rope— a makeshift bayonet. You figure the former owner is a psychopath for adding a blade on his gun, it's not like the bullet wasn't enough but he still wants his pound of flesh. A part of you is glad that he no longer breathes. After taking the rifle, you then lift up his torso to grab his bandolier, putting it over your shoulders and wearing it like a sash. Taking inventory of the gun, checking if it has jammed, Hobie takes watch on the door, peeking from the sliver of opening from the ajar door.

“You good, love?”

“Yeah, I'm a better shot with a rifle.” You holster the gun Hobie gave you as your last resort.

He knits his brows. “I've never seen you hold a rifle back then. I taught you with a six shooter.”

Shrugging, you hold the rifle in place, the butt of it is rough against your shoulder, barrel cold on your palm. “I taught myself with a rifle.”

“Huntin’?”

You sigh, giving him a weak smile. “Sure. I didn't see Clem or her parents behind the bar.”

“They might be inside their cabin.” Hobie understands the worry behind your words. “We'll find them.”

You nod shakily, licking your dry lips. “We will, I know it.”

Hobie gives you a once over, he doesn't ask if you're alright or to tell you to stay behind because he knows the answers to both of those questions. “Okay, opening the door now.”

The wind rushes inside as he flings it open, rusty metal squeaking on the door hinges. Droplets of cool water hits your cheeks, knees aching a bit, cold breeze howling and nipping at your neck. Rain is coming.

You stalk behind Hobie, he enters the door, you follow. He shoots, you shoot the stragglers that can still hold their gun up. It's an elaborate dance of death.

Blood seeps into the floorboards and on the soles of your boots. Your eyes are alert, heartbeat raging in your ears as you don't falter in your aim, trigger finger always on the metal. You smell like gunpowder and steel, and there's crimson splashed across the men's once gilded badges.

“You still good?” Hobie asks in front of you, his footsteps are calculated and silent save for the soft clicking of his spurs. “Y/N,” he asks once again when you don't answer within a second.

“I'm okay, sorry, I was looking for them.” You scan the dining car. The tables have drops of red coating the white marble, plush chairs reeking of gore. It's devoid of any passengers, you're not sure if that's a good thing or a bad one.

Hobie is already positioned at the door, waiting for you. “Alright,” his mind keeps telling him that your luck will soon run out. That the element of surprise won't be on his side the next time he opens the door. He's never been this afraid since he was buried alive five years ago. You arrive at his side, he can finally breathe. “The next car is the kitchen. They might've heard us coming by now.”

You nod, you're terrified but not for your own safety but for Hobie's, and the passengers. You've made your peace that you might not make it out of this alive just like how you've done when you escaped that horrid place. “I'm ready.”

He looks at you for a second before sliding his hand over your cheek, calloused hands that almost feel soft atop your skin. His thumb rubs along your cheekbones, silently wishing for an outcome where you both live to see the sunrise. “Don’t die on me.”

You lean to his touch, moving your head slightly to kiss his rough palm. He stops breathing for a second. “I won't die on you if you don't die on me.”

With a soft smile and a peck to your forehead, he nods his promise. “I promise.” He opens the door, the drizzle has turned into a downpour, it soaks his clothes, sticking to his scarred skin, and cold water splashing over his hat and atop the warm barrel of his gun. He opens the door with a creak after crossing the small distance.

You're both met with a barrage of bullets, Hobie pushes you to the side, effectively hiding you behind a counter while he gets nicked by a bullet across his thigh as he jumps behind a metal box.

“Fuck!” He yells, taking off his bandana to wrap it around the wound. Crimson immediately drenches the cloth, turning the already dark bandana into a darker shade.

“Hobie!” You call for him above the sound of guns going off and bullets hitting where you stood. Your breath gets stuck in your throat when you see the identical gold ring wrapped around a piece of twine, the necklace sits pretty on his clavicle, shiny and well taken care of; A stark contrast to the jagged scar lined on his neck.

He gives you a thumbs up, unbeknownst to the mixture of emotions you're experiencing. He even winks at you while he groans in pain. Your eyes are full of longing, tears pricking at the corners. He points at the gunmen, counting down, waiting for them to use up all their ammo.

He puts a finger down, three. One by one, the guns click.

Two. You hear panicked yells behind the counter.

One. The bullets stop flying. They frantically reload, metal scraping against metal.

Hobie nods and quickly lifts himself off his cover, fanning his gun, he shoots them down while you do the same. You both hit your marks just as when the last of your ammo pings out— metal meets flesh in a firework of rubies and torn insides. The entire kitchen smells of iron and gunpowder, you hide behind the counter again to reload.

“Shit.” You whisper as you reload the rifle, it makes a ping sound when you take out the cartridge. Fingers sliding on the metal from how the rain water has slicked your palms. Your pulse beats to the tune of the thunder outside the train. Trees whizz by the windows, raindrops clinging to the fogged up glass outside. Just as you finally finish reloading, you see Hobie stand up and confidently walk forward with his gun raised, shooting until not a single one of them twitches. You watch him work in awe.

The door next to you suddenly opens, the unmistakable silver muzzle of a gun peeking from the door that hides the man from your view, strong hands aiming directly at Hobie who's reloading. Without hesitation, you shoot the door where you've calculated where the man's torso is supposed to be. Splintered wood flies all over you, the gunshot rings in your ears, and your face is covered in something warm.

Hobie watches as the man goes down, almost dead, choking on his own blood for you have shot at the stranger's trachea. He scrambles towards you who's covered in blood. Crouching down, he slowly moves the barrel of the rifle away from him to wipe your face clean. Your eyes are wide, staring at the body lying just a few feet away from you. The man still desperately breathes, hand uselessly cupping at his gaping wound, blood seeping through his fingers, teeth stained with crimson, and dark bloodshot eyes looking at you. You watch as the light in his eyes goes out, and you realize, you're the last thing he ever saw.

Your ears stop ringing and you can finally hear Hobie call your name. “Love, just breathe.”

“I'm okay,” you say, blood smudged all over your soft skin. “I'm okay.” You utter it like you're trying to convince yourself. He hates that he has made you into this, a killer.

“Can you stand up?” His hand clasp your own, fingers kneading at your shaking palms.

“Yeah, I-I think so.” You stand up on wobbly legs, inhaling deeply, a mistake on your end, for the air has gone stale with iron and boiling water from the abandoned pot.

Hobie's palm is on your chest, encouraging you to breathe. In and out, in and out, you almost gagged. “You're doin' great, just keep doin' that—” A shot rings out, two men enters the train car, one is huge in form, brandishing a pistol. The smaller one has a shotgun with a crazed look in his eyes. The bullet misses your head by mere inches, leaving a gash across the shell of your ear. “Fuckin' wankers!” Hobie exclaims, the hand on your shoulder makes you sit back down, the other shooting at the men. Your blood soaked your once pristine collar. You don't feel the pain.

“Not her, you moron!” The bigger one shoves the other, Hobie is emptying his bullets, gunpowder permeating the stale air, mixing in with the iron and heat.

Everything else was a blur to you as you look at the pool of blood that's slowly making its way towards you. You hear your heartbeat quickening, the metal of the rifle in your hand stings, leaving indents on your palms. With a pained yell from Hobie, you wake up from your trance, just as you stand up, you're met face to face with the man who wields a shotgun. He yells, the butt of his gun aimed at your head. But you're faster, so you jab his stomach with your rifle, digging the bayonet into his flesh, blood seeps out of his white shirt from the knife. Despite his size, you've got the advantage, you've got everything to lose if you fail, so you fight, and survive, and will fight again because you promised Hobie.

Your attacker's gun falls from his grasp, staggering on his own two feet. He yelps as you push and push him into a table as you launch yourself quickly. The edge of the table stabs the small of his back, groaning, adrenaline rushing through you, you don't hesitate in pulling the trigger.

“No, wait—!” There's a gaping hole in his stomach, his entrails lay bare to you. That warm liquid is on your face again, it coats your white shirt, on your shoes as it drips down, and now your hands.

Hobie hears the gunshot, he looks over his shoulder to check, a mistake for he gets a punch to the gut. Hobie desperately fights the other assailant, dodging fists as they've both run out of ammo without time to reload. The man is visibly bigger than him, taller, and with more muscle. He's outmatched but he's not going to give up. Hobie has his fists shielding him, standing just a few feet away from you, if the man wanted to get to you, he had to get through him first. while the lawman does the same, both of them spit out blood that stains their teeth. The stranger smirks, eyes flicking over to you who just shot his partner. Before he could rush towards you, Hobie leaps up effortlessly, hands gripping a metal pipe above, swinging his legs towards the man to kick him. Steel toed boots hit his chest, but it's no use, even with the momentum, the kick barely fazed him.

“Fuck—” Hobie groans as the man grabs his middle, pouncing on him, trying to take him down but Hobie's grip on the metal is too strong. His legs wrap around his opponent’s neck, squeezing in hopes that it’ll choke him. Hobie’s side stings while the attacker takes a few hits in, using him as a punching bag. He squeezes tighter, trying to twist and snap his neck. The man gasps for breath but his fists still connect to his side.

You take out your gun from the man's dead body, rushing towards them, rifle aimed at Hobie's attacker. You pull the trigger but it clicks and nothing happens. It's jammed, your mind quickly decides for you, with the adrenaline rushing, mind addled, you pick up the boiling pot with your bare hands. It's hot, but only for a moment. You fling the searing water towards the man's back, Hobie lets go before the water hits him, lifting himself on the pipe, legs raised up and perpendicular to his body as he dodges the boiling water. Steam and water flies, landing directly at the lawman's face just as he turns towards you. He screams in pain, his shirt now burning into his skin, melting into his flesh. Hobie drops down, the pot clangs as you let it go.

The screaming gets into your ears, worming its way into your ear canals, so you do what you should've done to the man behind the door while he suffered— you put him out of his misery. Quick drawing the six shooter Hobie gave you, you shoot, hitting your mark as his body falls loudly on the floorboards.

Hobie heaves, and you stare at the carnage before you, carnage you've had your hand in. You suddenly feel rough hands on your own, he helps holster your gun back before checking the damage on your palms. The pot burned your skin, it's red and angry, lines in the shape of the handle have permanently etched into your flesh, right next to the scar Hobie helped stitch years ago. Weirdly enough, you can't feel the blinding pain.

“‘m sorry,” he says, reluctantly letting your hands go as he picks up his fallen gun off the corpse-ridden floor.

“What for?” Your voice cracks, barely recognizing it as your own.

“For everythin’, we shouldn't have gotten on this train in the first place, or any train.” Hobie sees how dull your eyes have become, the iris of your eyes have become restless, always moving, always checking for threats. You've become like him in the span of a few minutes.

You try to smile, it ends up looking like you're in pain. “Apology accepted, make it up to me by surviving the night—!” There's a lasso around your neck, you see Hobie's face contort into horror as you get pushed down on the floor, noose getting tighter as you gasp for air. Before he could shoot the one on the other end of the lasso, you're quickly dragged across the floor, body flailing like a ragdoll as the one dragging you around laughs.

“No! Y/N!” Hobie's thundering footsteps follow behind, shooting someone behind you. But you're still getting dragged around through train car to train car, rain battering your body whenever the person hauls you outside, the rough floor stings against your back. “Let her go!”

Black dots dance around your vision as your fingers try to get between the harsh rope and your neck. Your other hand reaches desperately at your gun holster. Fingers brush along the cool metal, ceilings whizzing above you. You're running out of air, and Hobie's running out of ammo. His panic and the rattle of the train makes his aim terrible. The man continues to lug and pull you as if you're a prized doe that they just hunted down.

The rope is choking you, leaving you with a mark around your neck and a skinned back from the floorboards that slash at your coat.

Gasping, you lift your leg up, finally reaching for the gun, quickly pushing down the hammer and leaning your head back to aim. The man dragging you about keeps moving from side to side, you shoot a couple of times but to no avail, panic sets in as your arm gets weaker, breath getting shallow, and your eyesight blurring. Your gun falls from your grasp, left behind as darkness envelops you.

Bang!

A body thuds, Hobie runs after you, the barrel of his gun still smoking as you lay limp on the carpeted floor. He gets to your side, immediately untying the noose around your sore neck. Your eyes fly open and you gasp for air, laying on your side as you try to take in breaths. You blink away the black dots and you're met with Clementine’s familiar eyes. Her mother holds her to her chest, hands covering her daughter's ears. While her father shields them both even with blood coating his forehead. They're terrified, you wonder if they're terrified of you.

Hobie pats your back for you to breathe better. “‘m sorry, fuck, Y/N,” he gingerly holds your face. “Look at me,” there's unshed tears in your eyes. He was almost too late, if his aim was just a few inches off— he doesn't want to think about it. Your eyes are glued to Clementine’s terror filled expression. “Oi, love, can you look at me please?”

You turn your head, neck aching and tender, you're met with soft viridescent eyes that smile when you finally stare back. He briefly turns his attention to the family cowering in their cabin before turning towards you again. “I have a plan,” he says while you hold his wrists, unable to speak. Hobie's heart aches at the sight of your bloodshot eyes. “We need to get to the engine, there's more comin', I can hear them.” Hobie struggles to breathe, so you slide your palm on his chest just like he did to you, wordlessly telling him to breathe. Nodding, he inhales deeply. “Uncouple the engine from the rest of the train. That's the only way we can get out of ‘ere.”

“What about them?” You manage to let out, you don't recognize your own voice. He knows what you mean.

“They're after us, not them. The most they can do is question them.” He tries to convince you even though he's not convinced himself.

You gesture towards Clem's father. “He's bleeding from his fucking head, Hobie—!”

“I'm alright,” Jesse chimes in, his wife nods along but she doesn't let go of Clem or his hand. “I got this because everyone started running away from the gunshots. I got trampled but I'm fine now.” His eyes pleads with you. “He's right, they won't touch us.”

“What if they do?” Tears cling to your lashes.

“There's more of us than them.” You don't expect him to chuckle, the pistol in his hand glimmers under the yellow light of the cabin. “Trust me, we're more trouble for them. I'm from the south, these kinds of things happen on the regular over there.” The scar on his brow tells you of his struggle, telling you that he can protect his family. “Worry about yourself.”

Hobie nods, thanking him silently while he still holds on to you.

“Get out while you can, sweetheart.” Florence addresses you. “I don't know what you two did but we don't care about them, just you. And you've got a good heart, so go.”

“Thank you,” you say, voice breaking. “Get to the caboose, there's more people there.”

They take your advice, standing up while Florence carries Clementine. Jesse goes in front of them, gun at the ready. Hobie helps you stand up and you watch as Clem waves goodbye to you.

“Bye, Clementine.” You whisper, a jar of honey rolls around the cabin and you frown, mind telling you that you might've traumatized the poor kid.

“They'll be alright.” Hobie brushes his knuckles against the back of your hand, careful of any injuries you're not telling him. “Let's go, love,” as he leads you outside of the cabin car, you spot a few more passengers running towards the back of the car.

You swallow thickly, neck stinging, burn marks left at your palms and neck. Your back throbs, but all the pain doesn't compare to the torture back home. Your great aunt throws despicable words at you, as if her jabbing you with stationary wasn't enough, with your so-called uncle always watching every punishment from the corner like a peeping tom. And him, he'd do worse than those two combined, perhaps he learned how to hurt you from them. And perhaps he has mastered the torture.

Suddenly, you're back at home in your pretty dress, pristine and looking like the perfect lady. But your velvet sleeves and satin skirts hide the tiny pin pricks and drying blood, the expensive jewelry outshines the apocalyptic look in your eyes. The ring around your ring finger keeps it all hidden— they call you lucky, they say that you glow under the chandeliers like the diamonds around your neck, yet, they pretend to be blind from how you stare outside the mansion like a doe caught in a bear’s trap longing to be free.

The rain hitting your face wakes you back to the present. Hobie's arm is around your middle, hovering just above your wounded back. With the cold raining down on you briefly, entering the next car, a group of men greet you on the other side.

“Finally made it.” The man in the middle says, he has a gilded star on his chest, twirled mustache on his face, and crow's feet around his green eyes. There's a hand cannon on his hand, the metal is all worn out and scuffed. “The name's Lee, I'm the sheriff around these parts.” He says, stubbing his cigarette atop a plush seat. You're in a regular train car that's lined with seats for the ones who're not in for the long haul. The rain outside keeps battering the windows, their guns are aimed at Hobie. “There’s a bounty on your head, Mister Brown. And I heard someone's lookin’ for you, pretty lady. You two got us running without our heads out there while you were on the dodge. But we got you now, eh?”

Hobie gets shoved from behind, and you both stumble forward. A couple of Lee's men appear, pushing you both closer to the sheriff with the muzzle of their guns. Hobie holds on tighter to you, and your gaze pierces the man in front of you.

You're surrounded. And Hobie feels like he's being buried again.

His eyes flick towards the windows, behind the water droplets lie a familiar view of a large lake— he knows this place, he knows where they're heading, all he needs to do is stall for time.

“You're lawmen, not bounty hunters.” Hobie taunts, “government not paying enough, sheriff?”

The man in front of you chuckles, lighting up a new cigarette with a flourish. You feel the acrid smoke enter your lungs. “A man's gotta eat, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know. Just like dumb and dumber who tried to ambush us by the river.” Hobie has a smug look, acting nonchalant, but his grip on you says otherwise.

You're worried when the lawman drops his confident stance. “What are you doing?” You whisper to Hobie, eyes never leaving your enemies.

“When I tell you to run, you run.” He whispers back, glancing briefly at you.

You don't protest, trusting him completely. You don't say, ‘alright,’ or ‘okay’ for confirmation that you'll follow whatever he's planning. Instead, you say the three words you've wanted to say to him, the real him, not the one from your dreams or hazy illusions— Hobie, your Hobie who used to greet you with a boyish smile under the oak tree. “I love you.”

His brave façade falls, you smile sweetly at him as you lean your head against his clavicle. Hobie makes an oath right there and then that he'll say it back when he deserves to say it to you, when he gets you to safety. For now, he holds onto you like how he desperately grasps onto the memory of you while you were thousands of miles away from him.

“That's a sweet sight,” the sheriff drawls, “looks like she knows that it's all over. But I can see that you don't.” He exhales smoke, it fills the cabin with sickly air. “You're off to the widow, mister Brown.”

Hobie smirks, you can see the cogs in his mind turn. “I think I remember you now, old man.”

Lee licks his teeth, the men at his command adjust their hold on their guns. “You remember now haven't you?” His spurs click against the floor when he moves closer, you notice he walks with a slight limp that he tries hard to not be noticeable. Hobie flicks his eyes outside.

“Yeah,” Hobie laughs to your surprise, “how's your leg? Or better yet, how's your son?”

“You motherfucker! Hobble your fucking lip!” Lee finally raises his pistol, cigarette ash falling from his lips that curls around the stick. It makes Hobie more amused. “Bet you don't even remember his fucking name.” He says through gritted teeth.

Hobie tilts his head, clicking his tongue, pretending to think. “Was it Jerry? Or Ronald? I don't remember, he didn't leave much of a mark on me.”

“I should shoot you right now.”

“Why don't you?” He raises a brow. A tall willow outside whizzes past. Hobie counts down in his head.

“Because the pay is higher if I bring you alive.” The man's green eyes stare at you. You feel like you're being scrutinized on stage. “Besides, I don't want to shoot you in front of your woman.” He gives you a toothy smile. “Why don't you come over here, sweetheart, I won't do you any harm. I'm just going to bring you home.”

You shake your head, trying to act brave now that the adrenaline has sapped out all of your energy. “That's worse than hurting me, sheriff.”

“Now why is that? Your family misses you.”

“I'd rather you shoot me with him than bring me back home.” Hobie listens in, guilt gnawing at his insides.

Sheriff Lee makes a face, befuddled by your words. “You’d rather die?”

“Without hesitation.”

He nods, looking like he's weighing his choices. “Now that's the love of a woman right there. I've only seen it a couple of times, one is from my own wife.” More ashes fall from his cigarette, the stick getting smaller and smaller with every exhale. Hobie uses it as a countdown. It's near, he can feel it from the rumble on the tracks.

Hobie scoffs, “‘m surprised that your wife stuck around with your ugly mug.” His fingers subtly unclasp the whip hanging on his belt.

Lee runs out of patience, clicking the hammer of his pistol, “this is for my son.” The last of the ashes from the cigarette falls, light completely going out from the stick.

Your eyes widens, body already moving to shield Hobie. In an instant, He yells, “Run!” Darkness engulfs the entire train car, gunshots let out muzzle flashes of light as the lawmen shoot with panic in their trigger fingers. You run forward, bodying Lee in the process. You hear the crack of a whip as you shield your head with your arms.

You land on the metal door, vision still dark while you blindly feel for the doorknob. Panicking, a familiar form presses behind you, immediately finding the doorknob and opening it for you. Stepping outside in a rush, you almost fall off the train if not for your reflexes making you hold onto the railing beside you.

With a creak of the door closing, gunshots muffling, you spot Hobie's silhouette amidst the darkness, you can't decipher what he's doing with the door. Noticing the rain has stopped, you look above, but in a second, rain hits your form like a waterfall, and the moon shines brightly. You were in a tunnel, and Hobie knew that the dark would give you an escape.

“Holy shit!” Like a thunderbolt, you whirl around to face Hobie to either kiss him or hug him. But you're met with his pained face, hand clutching his side as blood seeps out from his fingers. “No, no, no!” You press hard on his wound, he yelps, but he's grinning at you. “This isn't funny!”

He smiles wider, you think he has lost it. “It isn't, I just can't believe you told me you love me in there.”

You'd smack his shoulder if not for his injury. “You're an idiot, Hobie Brown,” he laughs, you smile, “a brilliant idiot.”

“I am quite brilliant.” You nod, tears mixing in with rain water, kissing his cheeks, you hear a muffled, “I can't believe that worked.” From him, so you pepper more kisses on his wet cheeks. “‘m lovin’ this, but we need to uncouple the cars. And we have an audience.”

You look over your shoulder, hands still on his wound. Two men look at you from the smokestack, one pauses from shoveling coal into the engine while the train driver blinks rapidly in shock.

“We're commandeering this train,” Hobie straightens up, jumping over the gap to get to the controls. Both men don't even protest, just silently raising their hands in mock surrender. He makes them stand in the corner that's further away from the controls, they obey. “C’mon, love.” He beckons you over, fingers opening and closing.

You hold out your hand just as when there's loud banging on the other side of the doors. Jumping the gap, you stand chest to chest with Hobie. There's hope yet for you two to safely escape.

The door doesn't budge from how Hobie locked it using his whip to tie the doorknob around the railing on the side. But it won't hold on forever.

The scenery has changed from the mountainside to a straight muddy plain. The tracks seem to go on forever, and you can see the next station just a few meters away.

“Alright,” He looks at the confusing controls. “Which button to unclasp the cars?” He thanks his adrenaline for keeping him on his feet.

“No button,” the one with the official looking uniform says. “You have to do it manually.” He glances at the floor where there's metal connecting the engine to the carriages.

You immediately get on your knees, wet hands sliding on the rusted metal. Desperately pulling on the large nail that connects both winches. You keep trying to pull it off. Your hands slide off so you try again. And again. Your hands smell of rust. And again. But it's all in vain, the hold is too strong.

“Shit—!” Hobie tries to help by crouching down but his wound denies him. Wincing, he lays his head against the wall, eyes flicking between you and the door that's barely holding on. He weakly raises his gun, seeing the chambers now devoid of any ammo. ��Fucker.” He tries to find more bullets from his bandolier and pockets, but he finds none.

You look at the two men wordlessly watching you fail. The rain and harsh wind still smacks your face. “Please, those men on the other side will kill us if you don't help.”

The driver shrugs and joins you on the floor, but instead of pulling onto the nail, he leans further down, sliding his hand underneath the winch and turning a wheel counter clockwise.

“You turn, not pull.” He says to you, continuing to loosen the connection.

“Now you tell me.”

Hobie tells the other person to keep shoveling in coal so when the engine is free, the four of you would be way ahead of the car. The engine runs hotter with every coal shoved inside, you suddenly feel warm, clothes slowly drying from the intense heat.

You can see the metal loosening, you'd exhale a relieved breath but the door bursts open. Sheriff Lee comes out covered in blood with a pistol. One eye closed and bleeding. Behind him, you can see the bodies of his men littered around the car, all shot to bits, the seats covered in their blood. Only Lee and a couple of them survived who now stood beside him while clutching their gunshot wounds.

“You made me shoot my own men!” He seethes, without a beat, he shoots but his aim isn't straight. The bullet pierces the man helping you. His headless body falls limp and falls out of the train and under the tracks, leaving crimson trails behind.

You don't have time to scream when his warm blood splashes across your face and sleeves. Hobie grabs you to the side, a small sliver of metal wall shielding you both. His hand shields your head, arms encasing you. The train passes by the last station in a blur.

The other train worker does the same, crouching down on the other side, shielded by the same small wall. Hobie sees the man's pistol hidden in the waistband of his denim jeans.

“Oi!” He yells above the gunshots, “throw me your gun!”

“What?! No!”

“You're not even bloody using it!”

“You're an asshole!”

“Just give us the fucking gun!” You yell back in a quick tone.

With a shake of the stranger's head, he reluctantly tosses you the gun. Lee sees the opportunity and shoots the guy's hand. He screams as blood gushes out, the gun clangs on the floor just an arm away from you.

The poor man's screams get louder, and suddenly he stands up, pushing himself off the floor and jumping out of the moving train and into the muddled swampy ground. You don't know if he survived the jump, or if the gators got to him first.

Hobie whispers a shocked, “what the fuck,” in your ears. He groans as his wound gets rattled by the tracks. “The gun,” before he could even get a toe outside, a bullet nicks the steel point of his boots. Taking his foot back, he curses and punches the wall behind him in frustration.

You stare at the weapon that's slowly moving downwards and into the space between the cars and engine. It's going to fall off if you don't act fast.

“They need to reload.”

“What?” Hobie asks tiredly. He hears the guns click, indicating that they've run out, “wait— Y/N, no!”

Without missing a beat, you reach towards the gun swiftly before they finish reloading. Hobie yanks you back the second you get the gun in your hand. A bullet pierces the floor where you were just a second ago.

“Get the fuck out of there!” Lee taunts.

You clutch the gun on your chest. Checking the chamber, you only see two bullets in it. Hobie leans over to see it. “Fuck!” You both say simultaneously.

“We've got two shots at this, Y/N.” Hobie looks at you, his green eyes gets darker even though dawn is just about arriving. His hand slides around the gun and your hand. “Let me do it.”

You shake your head, briefly laying your forehead on his. “No, you've done more than enough.”

He furrows his brows, “let me do it, love, I owe you that much.” It's not because he doesn't trust you and your aim, he knows better than that. He just doesn't want you to be in their crosshairs again.

The gunshots seize, without a reply, you leave his side, sliding on the floor to shoot. You find no one on the other side, just a brief last look at Lee's retreating back. Hobie pulls you back in, “they left.” You say, confused. Standing up, you help Hobie up, eyes widening at the front of the train.

“Cowards.” He says with a victorious smile. He expects you to smile back but you only have a look of terror. “What is it?” He follows your line of sight, and sees the lack of tracks looming closer and closer. “Fuckin' hell!” Hands immediately trying to pull down the brakes, he ignores the pain on his side as he keeps trying to push it down with his weight. “Y/N!” Looking over his shoulder, he sees you crouched down, uncoupling the car from the engine. Within a second, you free the train cars, leaving it in the dust as it slowly comes to a stop. He thinks of Bucky and Cherry, and the innocent passengers.

You turn to face him with glossy eyes, the rain has subsided, grey clouds parting away for sunlight. Hobie shakes his head, refusing to give up as the train chugs on, smoke billowing out. Pushing the brakes down, he feels your hands wrap around his own.

“Together.” You say, smiling softly just like how you did amidst the crowd back home.

He nods, your hands are uncharacteristically cold against his own. “Together.”

With one final push from the two of you, railway workers run away from the tracks they're working on as they see you continue to move fast. They yell and wave their hands to get your attention, but your eyes are only on Hobie's face. Everything happens slowly, the brakes screech, sparks flying as metal hits steel, but the momentum is too fast, and the engine bursts from the speed and heat. You slam against the controls with a sickening thud. Arms embrace you as the train crashes and you're once again in darkness.

—

Hobie's head throbs, he feels numb, fingers tingling, and his field of vision is blurry. Blobs of colours fly past him, screams muffled in his ears as if he's caught under the tides. He tries to blink the fuzziness away, after a few weak tries, he sees your bloodied soot-covered face, and feels your hands on his cheeks.; desperately holding on to him.

“Hobie!” You cry. He wants to comfort you and tell you everything will be alright. “Someone help us please!”

His perception darkens, inky spots appearing just as he sees a metal beast creak and groan while it burns in the fiery destruction. There's hundreds of fiber-like metal bursting out from within, like an angel losing its wings, fallen from grace. That's the last thing he sees before he succumbs to the pain.

—

“Try to keep him awake!” An unfamiliar person says.

Hobie feels like there's water inside his head, sloshing around in his pain-addled brain. He forces his heavy eyelids to open, Bucky's face greets him. I'm dead, he thinks, then your hands wrap around his own, squeezing a dozen times. “I'm in heaven then,” he tries to speak but it only comes out as a jumbled mess of words.

“Stay awake, Hobie!” You yell, “please! Hurry up, mister! He's starting to bleed from his ears!”

“Love—” he says before blacking out again.

—

His nose picks up something musty in the air, it's humid, crickets chirping outside, and he's sweating a lot. His head still aches, a pounding pain right behind his eyes. Hand reaching upwards, he feels bandages wrapped around his head, groaning in pain at the simple gesture. He smacks his lips, realizing that his throat is dry. Time has passed, he surmises based on how his wounds are starting to itch, indicating that it has been at least a few days.

He opens his eyes wide, panic settles in his stomach, remembering your terrified bloody face looming above him. Sitting up from the lumpy bed, his sight darkens for a second from how fast he sat up. Whispering your name, he coughs dryly, arm perching him up. He calls again, a bit louder this time, but he doesn't hear a pip anywhere except for the rushing water outside and the insects.

“Love?” He heaves, rolling to the side. Moving his heavy head up, he sees your coat draped over a lone armchair, but still no you. “Y/N!” Yelling with all his might even though his head bangs against his skull. After a few seconds, his ears pick up your muffled voice that seems to be coming below him. He calls once again with a soft smile on his lips, hands fisting the sheets when a wave of pain crashes down on him.

Ears ringing from the blinding pain, he's sure he hears numerous unfamiliar voices downstairs. He blinks the warbling vision away, then his heart picks up pace from the sound of a loud thud. Eyeing the plain door, your piercing scream brings his greatest fear come to life.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @thatsapillowcase

#I love this 5-star full course meal but my poor heart must've put on the menu as well #<<< lol your 🫀🍽️ is served #reblog reply #thank you for reblogging ❤️❤️

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pjisskullourful · 8 months ago

Text

𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦

𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 part 3/3 [series masterpost]

🍽️ Damiano × reader

NSFW 🔥 smuttastic nastiness, written by an adult about adults to be consumed by adults

° Damiano David/female reader insert

wordcount::: 15,800

° there is no more hiding your relationship, now you & damiano can go on your first date. but you're going to find that theres more spice than whats listed on the restaurant's menu

° shoutout to @sadbirdsflytoo for picking damianos outfit 💋 thank you for everybodys patience with me getting this final part to you

It had taken a while for this night to arrive.

It wasn’t as simple as pointing to a restaurant that looked nice and getting Damiano to make a reservation there. He was being picky about what was good enough for your first date.

Going to see a movie had been a safe option for a first date in your past. But he wouldn’t even entertain the idea, shooting it down before you had looked up what was currently playing at the cinema. ‘I’m taking you on a date ‘cause I want to talk to you, and see you’, he had told you during his dismissal.

A picnic in the park was far too basic, he declared. Something fun like bowling was viewed by him as powerfully unsexy. He thought a sports game would come with too many distractions. He ruled out visiting any kind of amusement park, ‘I’m not that rich, yet’. He didn’t want to go to the beach, because that was something you had done when you were just friends - it wasn’t significant enough.

And that was what it all boiled down to: he wanted this night to capture the significance of the start of your relationship. It was sweet that he wanted to get it so perfect, he thought you were worth all of that effort.

You didn’t have a set idea of what you wanted to do. But you had known when one of his suggestions needed to be ruled out.

“I wanna cook for you, I would absolutely love to. That’s the perfect way to make the date as personal as possible.” He had said, his proposal had clearly been thought on, more than just a spontaneous epiphany. “Would you like me to make a dinner for you? Wouldn’t that be so romantic? I can make you anything that you want, anything.”

Even though it had seemed like he had more to say, you had taken the opportunity to speak. “That does sound romantic. But I can’t help thinking that if we stay here for the date, there’s only a slim chance you will actually get cooking done. Most likely, we’ll just end up having a lot of sex.”

He had just blinked at you, showing you a blank expression. “What’s your point?”

“That’s not a date. That’s what we do every time we hang out.” You said. “And I’m not complaining…”

“It’s a fantastic way to spend time.” He had contributed.

“Spectacular.” You said. “But that’s not something I could get dressed up all fancy for. We couldn’t take cute photos at the location ‘cause we would just be beside your oven, and we would be naked.”

“We can take nudes together if you want.” He had said, prompting you to roll your eyes. “No, no, no, you’re right. I asked you out and that’s what we’ll do, go out.”

It had taken one more brainstorming session to figure out where to go. He picked a place you had never been to, which served a cuisine you had never eaten before. He made reservations at the upscale restaurant and you began to get butterflies, getting ready to experience another first with him. You could indulge in the significance, there was going to be a payoff.

As you dressed in your new dress, you felt nervous. They were different to the nerves you had felt before other first dates. You didn’t have to worry that you wouldn’t enjoy his company, or that you would have to try extra hard to impress him. There was no threat of awfully awkward conversations.

And in the absence of these anxieties, your excitement could flourish. The two of you were making it official, establishing that this was more than just really great sex. You were setting the tone for what your relationship would be. It didn’t matter that you were moving into uncharted territory, you were raring to go.

He arrived a little bit ahead of the agreed upon time. But he wasn’t catching you off-guard, feeling like you couldn’t wait for the date to start had led you to getting ready early. By the time you went to answer the door, you already had your hair laying as you liked it best and there were no further details to add to your makeup.

Standing at your front door, his eyes brightened at the sight of you. They seemed to grow wider as he quickly looked you up-and-down, trying to admire so many features at once.

Even after walking into your apartment, it seemed that he couldn’t get enough of looking at you. You turned around from locking the door to find him staring at you, like he wanted to memorise your off-shoulder dress.

“You look amazing.” He said.

“So do you.” You said.

He hadn't resisted the urge to show some skin, his red button-down shirt was just playing at being demure. He had only fixed two buttons in place, opting to show off not only more than his clavicle, but also his tummy, by tying the bottom of the shirt in a knot. He wore a leather jacket over this.

He had completed the look with what you would describe as ‘classic Damiano jewellery’. Of course he had a choker wrapped around his neck (leather) and his fingers were decorated with various antique rings. The earrings that dangled from his lobes bore a single pearl, matching the necklace you were wearing.

“No, I’m serious, you look so great.” He said and you saw his eyes move down, definitely noticing how much higher than your knee that the hem of your dress rested. “Do you wanna go on a date, or something? Or do you already have plans for tonight?”

“Actually, I’m already going on a date tonight. It’s my first date with this guy.” You said, playing along.

“This guy?” He repeated.

“Yeah, he’s kinda cool. Most of the time he’s a total dork.” You teased.

“Well I hope that he takes care of you and treats you right by doing stuff like buying you gifts.” He said, holding up the small gift bag that you had been trying to not pay too much attention to.

Now you smiled as you gratefully took it from him. “That is so sweet. I really wasn’t expecting you to get me anything. Is this, like, customary, should I have gotten you a gift?”

“I’m not doing it ‘cause of first date etiquette or anything like that. I just really wanted you to have this.” He said.

“Honey…” You cooed as you reached a hand in. “You are so cute.”

Your fingertips brushed against something that felt like lace and you grabbed for the single item. There wasn’t much fabric, making for a light gift. You weren’t surprised to find it was a pair of rather revealing underwear. Looking up from the lingerie, you found him wearing a smile as he watched you. How long had he spent picturing you in these panties?

You assumed that these were meant to replace the underwear that he had literally torn off of your body during your most recent encounter. It wasn’t a necessary apology.

“Oh, very nice, it’s something we can both enjoy and get a lot of use out of, right?” You said. “Thank you Daddy, I’ll wear them for you lots.”

“Put them on right now.” It didn’t sound so much like a request.

But you didn’t immediately move to complete this action. “I’ve already got panties on.” Slowly, you began to gather up and lift the skirt of your dress. “I’m sure you’ll like them just as much…”

“That’s not the point.” He said before you could expose your underwear to him. “I really want you to wear these for our date.”

“Okay.” You said, reaching for the fabric that laid against your skin.

As you pulled the pastel-coloured underwear down, you almost asked him what he was up to. Because clearly something was afoot.

But you kept these thoughts to yourself, knowing that if he wanted every single thing questioned he would have picked a less submissive girl.

Something stiff brushed against your fingers as you were in the process of stepping into your new underwear. You paused, seeking further tactical investigation.

“What is-...”

You were moving the item closer to your face, when you were surprised by the feeling of vibrating in your hands. It was silent, but there was no mistaking the sensation when it happened directly against your fingers.

“Damiano! You bought me vibrating panties?” You asked, looking up to find his smile had grown. “I should have known.”

He showed you a tiny remote that he had been hiding out of sight until now. He pressed a button twice and you felt the vibrations increase, but they remained silent. You found where these were coming from: a small spot on the crotch of the panties. It was more compact than your bullet-style vibrator, the bulge it created was hardly noticeable.

“Do you still like them and think I’m so sweet for buying them?” He asked, already pleased by your response.

“Well yeah, but I’m not wearing these tonight. Not for the date. I’ll put them on as soon as we get to yours, but I’m not-...”

“Yes, you are.” He calmly interrupted you.

“Damiano…” How the Hell were you going to negotiate your way out of this? It was more public than you thought you were ready for.

“That’s why I bought them.” He said. “Come on, play along and make Daddy happy. They’ll make you happy too, I’m sure you’ll really like how they feel once you’re wearing them.”

You weren’t getting any closer to putting them on your body. “Yeah, I bet I will. But how will I be able to pay attention and enjoy the dinner and our conversation if I’m sitting there with a fucking vibrator on my pussy?”

His expression changed at that. “I won’t turn it on while we’re at the restaurant. That wasn’t my plan.”

“Really?” You asked, not buying his words even though he looked somewhat innocent presently.

“Totally.” He said instantly. “I want you to wear them to dinner ‘cause it will be a little sexy secret between us. It’s a reminder, pressed up against your skin the whole time, so then you absolutely cannot forget how insatiable I am for you. And then I would turn it on while we were driving home, put that time to use to get you worked up.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, ‘cause…”

“Okay, okay.” He said and he lifted his hands, further demonstrating innocence. “Here, you take this.” You accepted the tiny remote straight away. “And you can put this in your handbag, or put it in your backpack that’s gonna be in my boot the whole time. Does that work for you?”

You considered the device before curling your fingers around it. “Yep.”

Your handbag was sitting on the couch and you collected it, putting your phone inside. Then you placed the remote into your backpack, zipping it shut at once.

“Okay, put them on so we can leave. This restaurant will definitely judge us if we’re late for our reservation.” He said.

You pulled the new panties on, finding that they were the exact right size. The tiny vibrator was still now and its size didn’t make itself known. You thought you might forget its presence by the time you had walked to where his car was parked.

You picked up your handbag and lifted your full backpack from the ground. After the restaurant you would be returning to his apartment, carrying all of the supplies you would need for the weekend-long stay.

He held his hand out to you, reaching across the distance. You walked over and put your hand in his, smiling at this first physical contact of the night.

He didn’t instantly go for the exit, his eyes studying the features of your face - perhaps making up for the time you had spent apart. You took advantage of this moment, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You didn’t linger as long as you would have liked. And as soon as your eyes were open, you checked how much pigment had transferred to his mouth.

“It’s not that I don’t wanna tongue, but I want my lipstick to look good for at least some of tonight.” You said, explaining away your brevity.

“And it does look good. All of your makeup does- it’s really gorgeous.” He said.

“Thank you.” You said as he leaned in to give you a very light kiss on the cheek, leaving your blush undisturbed.

Then he moved over to your ear. “But I promise you that lipstick is going to be ruined before you step foot in my apartment. Maybe more than the lipstick.”

You smiled and acted as if these words had very little effect on you. You didn’t let your expression betray the instant images that fired into your mind, pretending there wasn’t an excited flurry of thoughts. The idea that he wouldn’t be able to control his desires until you had retired to total privacy - it was as flattering as it was thrilling. You liked it because it meant that you wouldn’t be waiting as long to indulge in some intimacy.

“Okay, just make sure I get at least one photo of this look first. I want some documentation of how I look ‘cause in hindsight we might forget details of this night, it might not be as easy to recall as other activities.” You said, choosing words that wouldn’t lead you down a path of only sexual innuendo.

“Oh, of course. We aren’t looking this good for only the other people in the restaurant to see us.” He said.

You were having thoughts full of sentiment. You were optimistic that this would lead to more dates - and when you reached some sort of anniversary, you would want to look back with clear recollection. You wanted a photo you could put in a frame, always admiring the official start of something wonderful.

He took your backpack from you, slinging it over his shoulder instead. He let you lead the way out of your home, waiting beside you as you locked the shut door.

As the two of you walked through the hall of your apartment building, he draped his arm around the back of your neck, keeping you close to his side. His fingers began to trace over your exposed shoulder, inviting warmth into your tummy. You wondered how much more of your skin that your dress displayed that he would be unable to resist touching.

*** *** ***

Hikaru was an Italian-Japanese fusion restaurant. It was at the top of a skyscraper, providing views of the city’s twinkling skyline.

Elsewhere in this building were shops named after a single designer brand. A few of the floors were taken up by a casino, you had never been there. But you weren’t unfamiliar with the cachet that its name carried. It was owned by some millionaire, a name you had heard on the news more than once.

You had looked at the restaurant’s menu online and the listed prices had intimidated you. You had thought it was fancier than any place you had ever been. And experiencing it in real life: it did not disappoint.

The restaurant was beautiful, classier and lovelier than an establishment you would have selected. The dining room was surrounded by glass walls, making the area appear limitless and keeping anyone from having a less than great view of the city. None of the other diners were having loud conversations, there was a wonderful absence of screaming or otherwise aggravated children.

You wondered if this was what it was like all of the time for people who were rich. Were they always in aesthetically pleasing rooms with everyone trying to keep the atmosphere as calm as possible?

You observed it all as if you were a tourist. You chose to be fascinated, instead of getting stuck feeling horribly out of place. Damiano played along with you. Whenever a fellow patron passed by your table, the two of you tried to guess how many homes they owned. The numbers fluctuated as you tried to surprise each other.

He ordered grilled barramundi with roasted vegetables. Amongst the adventurous-sounding mains, you picked something that had some familiar (and therefore safe) aspects. You asked for the squid ink spaghetti, which came with tomato sauce and anchovies.

“And isn’t this so much better than a loud movie in some cramped cinema?” He asked as the waiter walked away, taking your order to the kitchen.

You couldn’t help theatrically rolling your eyes before you answered. “Yes, Damiano. You were right, you’re always right.”

He smiled and eagerly leaned a little further onto the table. “Ooh, I like how that sounds. Say it again for me.”

“No, I’m good.”

“So you said that you’ve had a passable first date or two at the movies. Where have your bad first dates happened?” He asked.

You didn’t have to pause to think about it. There was only one guy that could be your answer, the afternoon with absolutely no redeeming qualities.

“His name was Remo. We were fixed up. He worked with Donna and she thought we would be a good match, and he needed a good match ‘cause he had just broken up with his girlfriend after living with her for two years. Would you like to know why they broke up?” You asked.

“Sure.”

“She was cheating on him with five guys.” You said and his eyes grew wide. “I could probably tell you all five of their names, ‘cause he told them to me. He told me every detail of that break-up, for the entirety of our first date. Which, by the way, was the first time I had ever met him.”

“Shit, it sounds like the good match he needed was with a therapist.” He said. “How many other dates did you have with him?”

You maintained your straight face. “Like, fifty. I’m still seeing him, we’re going out tomorrow night.”

He grabbed his cloth napkin, momentarily lifting it. “If this wasn’t such a fancy place, I would throw this at you.”

“Don’t do that, I don’t wanna get kicked out before I find out what squid ink tastes like.” You joked.

He propped one of his elbows up on the table so he could rest his cheek on his fist as he smiled at you. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

“In the Renardo taxi, how could I forget?” You said.

Your brother had promised to pick you up from a friends’ birthday party, assuring he could have you home before your curfew.

When he had told you that he was coming from a gig with his new friend you hadn’t anticipated any issues. But Damiano’s influence had seen Renardo’s focus on the schedule slip. At the end of Måneskin’s show, they had hung around at the bar longer than expected. They had been having fun and the music playing loudly over the speakers had drowned out the sound of every call that you tried to place to your brother.

His car had pulled up almost an hour late. You had watched the minutes trickling by, knowing you wouldn’t make curfew. The two cheerful men in the front of the car hadn’t seemed truly sorry for messing you around and landing you in trouble. You hadn’t cared to listen to their explanations, which felt more like excuses as each of them struggled to hold back laughter.

“I still don’t think I’ve seen anyone angrier than you were that night.” Damiano recalled, and it was easier to smile about the whole thing now. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if steam literally shot out of your ears, like a cartoon.”

“Well it was very serious for me. I thought my parents were gonna cut me off from having the internet at home for a whole month.” You said, remembering how that had felt like a seriously dire scenario. “And it wasn’t even my fault.”

“You were so mad at me, you really wanted to hate my whole existence.” He said. “Until I complimented your hair.”

Your smile got bigger now. “You were the only person who saw that I was trying to channel Korra.”

“You gave up on giving us the cold shoulder as soon as I brought anime up.” He said.

“I remember how relieved I was that Ren had finally made a friend with some personality.” You said.

Damiano was the first friend of your brothers that you had hit it off with. Not only did he like the same shows as you, but he had cared to learn your opinions about them. It had been easy to talk with him immediately. You could remember the absence of feeling like you were being talked down to, and you enjoyed it as you would chatting with an established friend.

There was a sparkle in his eyes as he decided to tease you further. “Oh yeah, you liked my personality, but you didn’t like my name enough to remember it for when I saw you the next time, two weeks later.”

“I can’t help that I’m really terrible at names. How many more times do you want me to apologise for it?” You asked.

“It’s okay, I’ve moved past it.” He said. “Especially now I’m certain you’re never going to forget it again.”

As you waited for the food to arrive, you kept talking, wanting to know how his day had been. He had been preoccupied with his responsibilities to the band today. They were trying to figure out the running order for the songs to go on their new album.

It could be stressful at times, trying to organise them in a way that all four members would be happy with. Some of the songs meant different things to each of them, so his idea of where it would fit perfectly didn’t always sync up with the others. He told you about the negotiation tactics he had developed over the years.

When you saw him pull the phone out of his pocket, you assumed he was going to show you the current tracklist. But he didn’t turn the screen in your direction, nor did he spend much time looking at it himself. You were relieved that you didn’t have to compete with the device for his attention. He tapped at the screen a few times before setting it down, his eyes promptly returning to your face.

“What about her?” You asked quietly and made a subtle gesture to a woman in an orange blouse who was passing by your table.

He glanced at the stranger and gave her a quick assessment. “All of them.”

You furrowed your brow, chuckling at how he had seemingly forgotten your earlier game. “What, what do you mean?”

He didn’t budge from his position or show any confusion. “She owns all of the houses, every single one, she’s rich enough to own them all. Any house that you can think of: she owns it.”

The concept was so alien in comparison to your life that you began to laugh. You could scarcely remember the nerves you had felt when waiting for him to pick you up. Being in his presence was so reassuring that you had settled into the feeling that nothing would go wrong.

You were still laughing when the food arrived. His plate was set down first.

As the waiter turned to you, your legs flinched and tensed at what you thought was activity from the vibrator in your panties. It felt like external stimulation, but it ended too fast for you to properly identify it. You told yourself that it was just in your imagination as you shifted your ass in your seat.

“Do you like licorice?” Damiano asked once the waiter had left.

As you tried to figure out where this comment had come from, you were further distracted from the moment of possibly feeling the vibrator.

“Yes, why?”

“‘Cause it literally looks like you’re having a meal of black string licorice with some vegetables mixed in.” He said of your abnormally dark pasta.

“”I guess it does.” You said, feeling unphased by the unfamiliar sauce. “But I figured that I should try something that I can’t order at just any old restaurant. I want to get the full Hikaru experience.”

He hadn’t picked his cutlery up yet, just admiring you as you spoke. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re always very adventurous, I think that’s one of the things I love the most about you.”

Your heart got to fluttering at his use of the word love.

“But if you totally hate it, you’re allowed to share mine.” He said.

“Thank you.” You said with a smile.

But his offer wasn’t necessary. From the first bite you found that you liked the savoury dish, enjoying the rich flavours. You consistently loaded up your fork, making sure to collect some of the salty anchovy.

“You haven’t told me how your day at work was yet.” He said.

You looked up from your food, twirling your fork uselessly in the air. “It’s not- there isn’t much to say. It’s just a bit boring compared to your job.”

“It’s not a competition. I don’t want you to think that I don’t want to hear because I’ve already decided my job is more exciting than being a dental hygienist.” He said. “It’s not like that, I’m interested in what kind of day you had.”

“Okay then.”

“I thought you liked your job, how come you’re calling it boring?” He asked.

“It is boring, that’s what I like about it.” You said. “It’s all routine, I never have to worry about any drama coming up. It’s not up to me to think up solutions for things and I make, like, minimal decisions.”

“And that’s how you thrive?” He asked.

“Hell yeah. I can’t explain to you the inner-peace that I feel when I’m behind a closed door and it’s just me and the dirty tools and the autoclave steriliser. I get everything cleaned, I get it all sorted into the right spot.” You said.

“That sounds really satisfying, actually.” He said.

“It is. I never have to take work home with me.” You said. “I like how predictable it is. That’s, like, the exact opposite of your job, but it’s good for me. I can get unpredictability in other parts of my life.”

“Yeah, I can make things more unpredictable for ya.” He said, raising his fork to his mouth.

Before you could begin to think of a response, he was distracting you with a nod in the direction of the man passing by your table. You glanced at the guy who had a pair of spectacles positioned quite low on the bridge of his nose.

“Three. But he brags about them.” You sneakily told your companion. “He acts like they’re-...” Your throat clenched and any other parts of your assumption were trapped, then forgotten.

The vibrating was back, and this time it was powerful enough that you could confidently label it. Your fork shook in the air as your knees raised in response to this continuing sensation. The unexpected stimulations continued longer than the previous activation.

The confusion rushed forward, taking up position as the dominant emotion as soon as the vibrations mercifully ended. Your lips were parted and your mind scrambled to understand this.

You glanced at Damiano, seeing he wasn’t alerted by your sudden silence. He was looking down at his plate as he cut off a section of fish.

You began to question what you had felt. How could the toy be switched on without your knowledge, it was safely in his car, inside of your backpack.

You didn’t give him any insight of what you were thinking. You knew he would make fun of you if you were just imagining all of this. He would take the teasing further, wanting to get as much out of this moment as possible.

As more time passed between you and that sensation, you found it easier to stop fixating on. You straightened up, collecting your fork and returning to your meal now that things were back to being clearer in your head. You had another mouthful, looking to him.

“I told you about Remo, are you gonna tell me about your worst first date?” You asked.

He put his cutlery down, folding his arms on the table as he gave you his undivided attention. “You didn’t finish telling me that story. Surely there was something good that happened, it couldn’t have been all bad.”

“It could because it was.” You said. “The date was in the middle of summer, on this really, truly disgustingly hot day. And he takes me to this place: McFly’s, and their air conditioning isn’t working.”

“Oh-no.” He said, wearing an amused smile.

“Have you ever been? It’s this fake American retro place so it’s booths made of leather.” You said, noticing how his eyes went to his phone, but you didn’t put any thought into it. “I’m in shorts so my skin is sticking to the fucking leather and every time that I move it’s making these horrible noises. I was-...”

You jolted at the feeling of more vibrations between your thighs. You just stared at him, feeling your gut clench as the toy kept silently buzzing.

He looked at you, eyebrows raising curiously. “You were what?”

“So uncomfortable.” You said as you placed your fork down, beginning to squirm in your seat a little.

“Something the matter, honey?”

You worked your hardest to not notice the vibrations, to not let them affect you. Because you wanted to stay in control.

Before speaking, you cupped a hand to the left side of your lips, an attempt to gain some privacy. “I think my, uh, gift is malfunctioning.”

He leaned in, brow furrowing in concern. “Malfunctioning, in what way?”

You struggled to swallow, the pulsations really wanted your attention. “It’s on, I can feel it right now.”

“Really, what does it feel like?” He asked.

“Like a vibrator. How come it’s on? The remote is in your car, it shouldn’t be…” You trailed off, shifting your weight to the other asscheek as you watched him pick his phone up.

“Is it really intense?” He asked. The way he was holding his phone covered the lower half of his face and he was touching the screen. “How would you rate it out of ten?”

You paused, your jaw clenched as the tension in your body increased. You couldn’t understand his motivation behind this line of questioning. Maybe it was because your thoughts were less organised than usual, but you didn’t see how this would help you to a solution.

Then you noticed the creases that had formed in the corners of his eyes, present because he was smiling. Before you could start trying to guess at what had him so amused, the toy’s pulsations got more persistent. The hidden device shook powerfully between your thighs.

“What about now?” He asked and the increase in the vibrations was obvious, growing to be more of a challenge to your control. “Would you describe it as less or more intense? Or is it about the same?”

“Damiano…” You began through gritted teeth.

He slightly lowered his phone and now you could see how big his smile was. “Yes, honey?”

“Why are these fucking panties vibrating right now?” You asked, conscious of keeping your voice quiet enough that only he could hear.

“Oh, did I neglect to mention that it can be controlled by my phone?” He said, turning the device around so you could see its screen. It was displaying an app you had never seen before, but it didn’t look very complicated.

You rested your forehead in your hand, you were already certain that this wouldn’t be over quickly. The sparkle in his eyes told you just how playful he was feeling. “Yes, you did neglect that.”

“Oops.” He said.

You watched him place the phone down without giving it any extra taps. The screen timed out from inactivity and he picked up his cutlery again, his movements had a leisurely fashion.

You leaned forward, trying to get relief from the pulsations. But this position gave you the opposite of what you wanted, pressing the vibrator directly up against your labia. It wanted to unlock your greatest sensitivities and there was already a tremor through your pussy.

You drew in a sharp breath and leaned back, really pushing your weight into the chair. Beneath the table, you moved your legs apart, trying to not trap the toy. Maybe you were feeling it a little less, but the muscles in your thighs twitched a bit.

A strangled groan came from the back of your throat. “Why is it on?”

“Why not?”

“You said you weren’t going to use it ‘til we were driving home.” You reminded him, unable to keep the whiney tone out of your voice.

“Yeah, but you know how much I love to watch you squirm. And I’ll barely get to enjoy it while I’m driving the car.” He said. “You’re just so pretty right now, your eyes are so wide and you’re breathing really fast. Daddy likes you like this, and why should I only get to enjoy it when we’re in the bedroom?”

It was getting harder to construct coherent and complete thoughts. The blood was practically racing into your cunt, demanding that you notice how it was feeling. Your nerves were getting more fine-tuned, the reactions of your body growing more significant to you.

You didn’t know what to say back to him. You were yet to figure out your path out of this - did it exist?

“Do you need to excuse yourself for the bathroom so you can take them off?” He asked.

“What?” You hissed at him. “Are you crazy? I can’t walk around in public without fucking panties on, you’ve seen how short my dress is.”

When walking to the table, you hadn’t been scared of flashing your underwear to the room. But you had kept yourself aware of how the skirt of the dress felt. And you had been ready to push the material down in a second.

The possibility of the skirt hitching up by getting stuck on your handbag, or the wind picking up the hem, to expose your cunt to so many strangers was terrifying. You didn’t think that you would ever be able to recover from that level of humiliation.

��You can.” He said. “Or you can use your safe word.”

You sucked on the inside of your cheek as you tried to rationally think this through.

As more of your control fell, his clearly rose and you could see how much he was enjoying it. As he watched you he wasn’t just entertained, he was visibly excited. And you loved to be the source of that.

There was a feeling blooming in your chest as you kept feeling the device’s activity. You realised that he could make you feel dirty at any place, any time. You thought you had learnt this lesson when he had come into your tent to fuck you at the occupied campground.

But you were learning it at a deeper level now.

It was intimidating and there was certainly a threat of danger as you couldn’t forget about your location.

But you couldn’t make yourself want to run from it. You were feeling seduced by how evidently pleased he was.

“Desperate little girl.” He cooed at you and you nodded back at him. “Don’t let your pasta get cold before you’re finished with it.”

You felt like you had forgotten all about your food before you picked your fork up, gripping its handle tighter than before. The flavours didn’t appeal to you as much. In fact you could hardly taste the spaghetti as you slowly swallowed it.

Even though your heart continued to race, you felt like you had somewhat settled into this sensation. There was less surprise in how your body was reacting. You were thinking that you knew how to handle it and that you could control your behaviour.

With your knees kept slightly further than shoulder-width apart, you knew that you were the least ladylike female in this establishment. You didn’t have to look around at the other women to confirm this. Maybe your lack of modesty was creating a negative first impression to them.

But you couldn’t care about what they thought. Sitting in this way helped you feel less like you were waiting for an earthquake.

The only person whose thoughts you cared about was Damiano. If this was the kind of first date that he wanted, then you were determined to provide that for him. That was what you wanted, it was your greatest goal to be exactly what he wanted. You liked how his praise felt, enjoying that got stronger than the embarrassment.

“You like squid ink, huh?” He asked, watching you instead of eating his meal.

You kept using your hand to support your head. “Yeah. There’s really nothing strange about how it tastes. I guess it only sounds and looks weird.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, babydoll.” He said.

As you chewed your next mouthful, your eyes went to where his phone rested. With the screen darkened it looked innocent, as if it couldn’t possibly be the cause of the troublesome teasing you were currently subjected to. Then you looked at him, he was gazing out at the twinkling skyline, appearing so carefree.

You shifted in your seat and found the toy pressing more firmly against you. Immediately you bit your bottom lip, willing yourself to not make a single noise as those vibrations massaged your labia majora. You couldn’t quite keep the smile off of your face at the memories this feeling was pulling forward. You knew how effortless (and rewarding) it would be to give in and you noticed how wet the panties had become.

You feared leaving a mark on the suede material of this chair. That thought helped to bring you back to your current reality. You readjusted your legs and straightened your back, finding it helped you feel a little less rattled - maybe it helped you to look more in control as well.

“Are you gonna leave it on for the rest of the night?” You asked. “Like, you’re not gonna turn it off until I’m taking them off?”

“I haven’t really decided yet.” He said. “Did you know that it has ten speeds? You’re sitting at about halfway for now.”

The smile fell off your face at that. It sounded like an impossible feat. “You’re not gonna turn it up, are you?”

“I haven’t decided that either.” He said.

“Please.” You whispered.

He didn’t grab his phone, just smiling at you. “You’re really pretty when you’re stressed like this. Look at you, you’ve started to sweat.”

You could feel the moisture on your brow, poised to ruin the makeup applied to your forehead. As you slowly twirled some of the pasta around the fork prongs, you couldn’t keep your foot still. You were trying to use some of the unpredictable energy that felt like it was fizzing in your veins. You incessantly tapped your toes, your knee bouncing at this fruitless rhythm.

“Do you remember the first time you ever imagined, or just thought about us fucking?” He asked, decidedly not whispering as he spoke.

“Oh my God.” You let the paranoia of being overheard by a closeby diner win. “Are we sure this is the right time and place to have this discussion? We’re in public.”

He didn’t waste any time looking around at the others, he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. “So don’t shout your answer.”

You laughed, still a bit in disbelief. “Oh, right.”

“So, do you remember?” He prompted again.

This wasn’t a memory that was within grasp for you. Maybe you would be better at answering if you had more time to think. And if you didn’t have an active vibrator on your pussy demanding your attention.

“I don’t know, do you?”

He immediately grinned. “Yep.”

“No way.” You said. “When?”

“Do you remember that tiny little bar, Moe’s? And Ren was dating the bartender there, what was his name again?”

“I definitely don’t remember that. But I remember Moe’s, yes.” You said, thinking that you already knew what night he was about to recall. But you didn’t know it from his perspective.

“That place was about the size of a matchbox. And yet, they were like: let’s put a pole in here.” He said and you nodded.

You hadn’t been there in a long time, but the gaudy gay bar was still clear in your mind. The decor had made for great settings for Instagram photos. No matter which night of the week you went, you were guaranteed to see a drag show.

It hadn’t seemed possible to have a bad night there. That was why you had been in attendance on the night he was referring to. It had been Thursday and you had been keenly looking forward to the weekend after spending time organising a Saturday date with a guy you had matched with on Tinder. But he had ghosted you, seeming to delete you from his consciousness.

You had never heard from him again, and now you couldn’t remember his name. Instead of staying home and feeling sorry for yourself (which had been a tempting prospect), you had gone to Moe’s to catch up with your brother. You had dressed yourself in something that made you feel confident and had set off, eager to hear the fun pop music.

You hadn’t been expecting to see Damiano that night. But his company was so appreciated, he had a knack for lifting you out of bad moods.

“You told me to get on the pole ‘cause everyone else was ignoring it.” He said.

“Because I know how much you like showing off.” You teased.

“I said I would if you did, but you didn’t know how and you were scared to try. You thought you were gonna look stupid or hurt yourself. But I promised that I would teach you.” He said.

You licked your lips. “And you’re a great teacher.”

“Yeah, you learnt a few tricks and nobody got hurt.”

You could remember how it had been the perfect distraction from your disappointment. The two of you had laughed a lot, sometimes too much to concentrate on the task. He had given you humorous pep talks and there had been plenty of farcical innuendo. Shots had lowered your need to oppose, as well.

He had been the best cheerleader you could have possibly hoped for and the pride had ballooned inside of you, leading you to getting into the activity even more. You had gained confidence in your ability to complete a front hook and a mermaid spin, tossing your hair about more-and-more. Under his watchful eye, your hands had slipped less.

“That turned you on?” You asked. Your memories weren’t cast in the same sexual light - it was a fun tidbit that you could tell people, always getting an amused response.

“Hell yes.” He immediately told you. “That was the most I had ever touched you. You pretty much wanted me to hold you up at the start, and holding you close like that, that felt really good and it gave me plenty of ideas, honey.”

His hand moved over to his phone, his fingers hovering above the screen. His eyes darted down to the device for a millisecond, then he was watching your face as he turned the vibrations up to a higher setting. You bit on your bottom lip, but you couldn’t help smiling at how the pulsations teased you. It could have been so easy to stop resisting them.

“You had me putting your hands and legs in the right spots.” He said. “And having your gorgeous curves in my hands like that, I never wanted to stop touching you and I wanted to touch you in so many other places. So while I was pretending to care about the sunwheel, I was really just thinking about all the ways I could touch you if we weren’t in public.”

“I had no idea.” You said.

“And that made it even hotter. You were so oblivious to how much I wanted to fuck you. That got me so hard, it kept me hard. I couldn’t go to sleep without getting off that night and I was thinking about you when I did it. Even though I felt kinda bad about it, not wanting to cross that line or whatever.”

“Wow.”

“Yep, your body can make a man want to do some very depraved and very bad things. And you don’t even have to try.” He said and your eyes had started to slip down to his mouth as you listened.

“Oh my God, I, uh- I don’t know what to say, that’s just so sexy and it’s blowing my mind a bit.” You admitted. “That’s really dirty.”

“Uh-huh.” He said, nodding. “But that’s what you do to Daddy, you make him do such dirty things, make him wanna do dirty things to you.” His hand was close to his phone again. “But you like it, hm? Don’t you just love it when Daddy gets so dirty with you?”

You dropped your chin down close to your chest, feeling absolutely no faith in your poker face. “Yes, Daddy.”

You loved how that word tasted every single time that you said it. Saying it helped ease back your embarrassment a little. It was an invitation to inhabit the way your body was practically throbbing with unapologetic lust. And the persistent stimulations from the vibrator wanted you to indulge it even more.

It was getting more difficult to breathe, only getting worse when you felt the pulsations definitely increase. They were more insistent and your thoughts got truly derailed. Your thighs tensed as your cunt fluttered. You let out a whispered laugh, the sensations could make you hysterical.

“Do you think that you could orgasm just from this?” He asked.

You squeezed your eyes shut. The noises of the other diners seemed so loud as you wondered how you were going to balance yourself out. You truly doubted your ability to settle at this new level of intensity.

“Should we find out?” He asked.

You whipped your head up and leaned closer immediately. “No, please. Please, please, no, please not here, no.” His hand was still too close to his phone for your liking. “Please please. We can try that in the car, as much as you like. But not- please, not here.”

He picked up his cutlery, ignoring the phone for now. “Okay, babydoll. Come on, you’ve still got a couple of mouthfuls of your food left. You’re not too full for that, are you?”

“No.” You said, holding your fork with an unsteady hand.

Truthfully the food no longer held any of your interest. But you forced yourself to have more of the pasta, hoping it would be the distraction that you sorely needed.

“But it wasn’t. You were still so aware of how your clitoris was quivering and the panties were so wet against you.

When you saw him reaching for his phone, you feared the worst and you acted straight away. You needed to get to the phone before he could turn the toy up any higher. Your arm shot out and across, your fingers extended as you held your breath.

Your aim wasn’t as precise as you had thought and your wrist struck his glass of water. The force was great enough to knock the item over and you froze, watching water start to spill. It flew over the closeby edge, hitting the ground and breaking. More than a few people turned to look and you felt a far worse embarrassment. You clapped both hands over your mouth.

“I didn’t mean to do that, I didn’t think it- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You said and the prospect of hiding under the table appealed to you greatly.

“It’s okay.” He said, directly contrasting how you felt as he calmly used a napkin to blot up the bigger splashes on the table. “It’s all okay, honey. Nothing got ruined. Well, aside from…”

No sooner than he had gestured to the broken glass, a member of the staff had rushed up. They didn’t waste any time, working quickly and carefully to collect the pieces of shattered glass, putting them into a small pail.

“I’m really sorry.” You said. “Let me help with-”

They held a hand up, stopping you before you could start to get up. “Please, I don’t want you to accidentally cut yourself. It’s better for the manager if I’m the one who gets hurt.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it at all.” They told you, before adding quietly. “Those glasses are the cheapest things in here.”

They thoroughly checked the floor for any remaining shards. It was a minute amount of mercy that he showed by turning the vibrations down (but not off). The worker produced a cloth to wipe the floor.

Then they stood up, looking at you and your date. “It didn’t get in anyone’s dinner, did it?”

“No, everything is totally fine up here.” He said.

“I’ll bring you a new glass.” They said. They didn’t leave straight away, pausing to give you another look. “Please don’t feel like you need to apologise anymore, sweetie. A broken glass isn’t something anyone here is gonna get upset over.”

“Thanks.” You said, smiling weakly before they left.

Nobody was paying much attention to what was going on at your table now. But the adrenaline was still pumping through your veins and you didn’t think it would level out anytime soon. You supported your head with a hand on your forehead.

“It’s okay, honey.” He said gently. “Don’t let your brain trick you into thinking this is a big deal because it isn’t.”

You slowly raised your eyes to his face. “I’m so embarrassed.”

His eyes glittered as he took in the expression you wore. “Aw, you’re even more stressed out now. It really is so fucking cute.” Maybe you would be able to enjoy this praise when you looked back on it. “Finish up what you want of your food because I have to get you home, I have to get you home real soon.”

*** *** ***

As soon as you had crossed the threshold, Damiano pulled you over and got you pinned to the closest wall. His lips covered yours with the most power yet. It was more passionate than the kisses he had given you in the elevator - a clear indication that the night was reaching its peak.

And you were feeling more than ready for that. He had kept the vibrator active in your panties for the entire drive away from the restaurant. He had controlled the steering wheel with one hand, so that he could hold your bare thigh with the other, gripping firmly enough that you felt his rings pressing into your skin.

Now that you were behind the locked door of his apartment, there was no holding back. Your bodies collided and hands groped, getting to do all of the things thought up during dinner. The lust was crazy now that it was getting set free and the flurry of activity made you feel giddy, almost as if you had consumed alcohol along with your meal.

“Thank you for letting me take the panties off.” You said, enjoying the break you were getting since taking the lingerie off in the elevator. The moist lace was held in your hand.

His fingers caressed your cheeks and in the pause between kisses you saw how big the smile on his face was. “Aw, my little girl couldn’t take much more of that, huh?” His lips surrounded your top lip, sucking and giving you the hint of a bite. “If you didn’t wanna be teased so much, then you shouldn’t be so fucking fun to play with.” More kisses stole your opportunity to respond. “Had you ever considered that?”

“No, I hadn’t.”

His hand went to your throat, using this to guide your head back against the wall. His fingers on your chin moved up, caressing your lips as he applied the front of his body to yours. You wrapped your lips around his fingers as he began to kiss down the side of your neck. His hips pressed against yours and you were gloriously trapped as the anticipation only grew.

At first he reached underneath your dress, getting to what he could beneath the material. He gripped your body to him as his mouth travelled toward your cleavage. You wanted to get a little satisfaction for your own cravings and you pushed his leather jacket off of his shoulders. You couldn’t get his arms free of the item, but at least you could now feel his body heat through his shirt.

“You made yourself up so pretty for me.” He said. His breath was hot on the tops of your tits as he hardly paused from kissing (and gently sucking) the skin here.

“You did too.” You said. “I couldn’t imagine a sexier guy to take me on a date. Have I mentioned that I fucking love how you take the buttons on a shirt as a suggestion?” He giggled. “More than once I was wishing I could use your pecs as a plate, so that I would have an excuse to lick them.”

“I’m glad you think I look good. I had to, for you, honey.” He said, your eyes meeting. “I wanted you to know how proud I am to get to take you out.”

You felt like your heart could melt as you stared into his eyes. At once you knew that you had nothing to say that was worthy of following his statement. None of the words you possessed could properly encapsulate your emotions. Nothing would be profound enough, nothing could carry the same significance.

You tried to express yourself with actions, pulling him in for a kiss. His lips worked with yours, giving you reassurance in this moment. Your hands returned to the task of getting his jacket off. He helped you follow through, the garment discarded and you eagerly plunged your hands into the very open collar of his shirt.

You didn’t have to guide him in any way, he knew exactly where the zipper on your dress was. From behind your back, he began to pull it down. You were relieved to have your chest freed from the corset-style bodice.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about women who fuck on the first date. Hopefully nothing too disparaging.” He said as you undid the buttons on his shirt. “But I just want you to know, so that you don’t worry… I’m not gonna respect you any less ‘cause we’re sleeping together on the first date.”

You threw his red shirt away and rolled your eyes. “Kiss me, you dork.”

Your mouth was already open as he leaned back into you. You held the nape of his neck as you kissed, his tongue voyaging into your mouth. You tasted the cigarette he had smoked while driving, at the same time that you gained a strong sniff of his cologne. His arms encircled your waist and you had the desire to be entirely wrapped up.

When his hips returned to yours, you felt the stiffness that was still hidden in his pants. It kept you giddy, that swarm of butterflies still in your tummy. You keenly pushed your hips into him, wanting less distance between your bodies. He pushed back until you were grinding on each other - there was so much energy that was begging to be used.

“I wanna do something new tonight. Do you trust me?” He asked.

“Always, Daddy.” You supplied immediately.

He took your hands and secured another kiss from your lips before starting out of this entryway. You squeezed his hand as you followed along closely. You didn’t know what to guess, what did you want it to be? You thought about the things you hadn’t yet experienced with him, those positions that had gotten your imagination racing.

He got you to sit down on the bed while he went to the chest of drawers. There were still toys of his that you hadn’t explored yet.

When he turned back to face you he showed you the bundles of black rope in his hands. You knew that it was a special type of rope, designed to not hurt or irritate your skin. But that was where your knowledge ended. There were no limits to the possibilities of what he could do with it.

“I hope you’re ready to be in a bit of an unnatural position.” He said, unravelling the rope as he got closer.

“I think I am.” You said.

“This first part isn’t so scary- lie down on your tummy.” He said, his tone none too stern yet. You flipped yourself over, getting comfortable with your head to the side. He was still in your line of sight as he climbed onto the bed with you. “Look at this booty. Should I spank it? Breaking that glass, it seems like the kind of thing you could be punished over.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.” You said, squirming a little.

He rested the palm of his hand on your ass. “Have you ever heard the expression that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions?”

That didn’t sound like you were about to be forgiven. You shut your eyes and tried to prepare yourself.

But it didn’t come. “No. The way that you almost cringed yourself out of existence when it happened makes me think you’ve suffered enough.”

You let out a shaky breath, smiling as you looked at him again. He simply lifted his hand from your ass, going back to unravelling the rope.

“Can you lift this leg up for me? Bend it, kind of like you’re gonna kick your own ass.” He said and you raised your foot immediately. “Awesome, now do you think you could touch your wrist to this ankle?”

You felt a little uncoordinated, but there was nothing to stop you from completing the action. “Like this?”

“Perfect, babydoll.” He said. “How does that feel for you? Is that uncomfortable or do you think you could hold it?”

“It’s not uncomfortable.” You said. The stretch you were feeling in your limbs wasn’t typical, but it also wasn’t painful.

“What if I tied them together? Would that be alright?” He asked, his tone giving you the sense that this could be negotiated.

“Yeah, I’ll give that a try.”

You felt how non-abrasive the rope was as soon as he began winding it around your wrist. You were helplessly exposed to him as he worked. There wasn’t a single thing he couldn’t do to your body right now and the sense of having no control titillated you.

He wrapped the rope around your wrist and ankle, a knot resting between them. You didn’t feel these new cuffs digging into your skin. It was deceptively gentle, and you were surprised by how much they actually limited you when you attempted to move. Your wiggling was ineffective as you found how little give the ropes had. Aside from flexing your fingers, there wasn’t much you could do with the left side of your body now.

He didn’t instantly move to tie up your other limbs, instead giving the back of your arm a slow stroke. “How does that feel? Is there any pain?”

“No, it’s okay.” You said, making sure to twist your head around so that you could drive this point home by looking in his eyes. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Good, because you have to tell me the second that it starts to hurt. I don’t care what part of the scene we’re up to, it’s never not a good time to tell me.” He said, inescapably serious in his every word. “It’s not just about blood flow being restricted. Wrists are really quite fragile and I don’t want to damage the joint, or damage you in any way. That’s not what this is about, so I need to trust that you’re taking your safety as seriously as I am.”

You nodded your head as best you could. “Yes, I am, I will.”

“I’m not trying to make it sound scary, but I just want to make sure you have all the information.” He said.

“I appreciate that.”

He gave your ass an affectionate pat. “My good girl understands her responsibilities.” He was smiling as he lifted himself to switch to the right side of your body. “Alright, I’ve got more knots to tie.”

He folded this second length of rope in half as you got your arm and leg into the correct position. You had practically no balance anymore. The majority of your body weight went to your chest, pressing it firmly to the mattress, which changed the way you were breathing. It didn’t keep you from filling your lungs, but you were more aware of your chest rising-and-falling than you typically would be.

He placed the doubled-over rope around both your wrist and ankle, feeding the ends through the loop created at the fold. He gave the end a gentle pull, introducing tension into the rope. He slid his index finger between the rope and your skin, checking it wasn’t too tight before continuing.

He wrapped the ropes around your joints again-and-again, you lost count after the third. His fingers worked without fumble, making you wonder just how many times he had done this.

He fixed everything in place with one final knot. “How is that for you, honey? Are you having any issues?”

“None at all.” You said, feeling pleased that his effort hadn’t been for nothing.

It became evident that you weren’t alone in being pleased. “You look so good. It’s even better than how I was imagining it.” He ran a single finger up the inside of your thigh, making you shiver as the excitement raced up your spine. “My sexy plaything, I can’t wait to make you feel just so spectacular.”

He got up from the bed. You didn’t strain your neck to keep an eye on him, even though you were so curious of what he would bring to you next. You rested the tip of your nose on the bed and tried to take in some deep breaths. Your body was in a peculiar position, but you felt more composed than you had at the restaurant. You had found your base, you were at the right starting point for whatever he had decided the rest of your night would be dedicated to.

“I think I’m gonna let you enjoy a toy that has proven to be very successful in the past.” He said.

You still didn’t check over your shoulder. You didn’t need to see this toy to identify it, you got all of the information that was required from the first touch.

You recognised the shape of the bulb as it was brought up to your cunt. You recognised the smooth, but not slippery finish that the device had. The vibrations weren’t set high enough to properly disrupt your peace yet, they just felt good as he pressed the toy against your labia majora.

It was the vibrating wand that you had been unable to resist, experimenting with it in secret, when you should have been watering pants and minding your own business.

With the time that had passed since then, you had really learnt of what the toy could do. And how much he could do with it.

He pushed it up, making space for it between your body and the mattress. You let out a whimper as you settled into these sensations, unable to resist, just like that first time. You didn’t have to hide that you were enjoying this, that the vibrations were getting you wetter as they intrigued rather than intimidated you.

“Is that the best toy ever?” He asked, the excitement in your body building as he maintained the right amount of pressure.

You were getting distracted from everything else. It felt like you could float away on bliss as your labia were massaged so consistently. It steadily had you feeling more sensitivities, rather than rushing and disorientating you.

“Best ever.” You agreed.

He got the toy’s head to a higher point, your labia majora the only thing keeping it from making contact with your clitoral hood. Your pelvis tilted as you started to feel the vibrations on a deeper level - soon it would be messing with your nerves, but that would be just fine by you.

“Who’s making you feel so good?” He asked.

“Daddy.” You were fast to tell him.

“That’s right.”

With some skillful manoeuvring, he got the toy’s head to make greater contact. Your labia were eased apart so that the vibrator could reach your clit. Your body gave a reactionary twitch and your breath briefly skipped. You couldn’t help the pathetic wiggle as you accepted this escalation.

Your mouth hung open as you tried to get yourself back to that baseline because you didn’t want to come too quickly. These sensations were shooting straight through you, affecting you down to the core. Slowly you came to notice a new sound in the room. And it took you another moment to acknowledge that you were the one making these strangled noises - they had begun with no awareness from you.

“Oh, has Daddy just found the magical spot?” He asked, the delight so clear in his voice.

“Fuck, yes.” You moaned.

If you had control over your hands then you would grab his wrist, keeping him from moving it. You would make sure that he didn’t take the toy away until you were done with it.

You felt his hand move away, leaving the limited space beneath your body. But the toy remained in place, the vibrations persisting. It shifted a little as your body writhed, but you pushed your cunt into the right place again, happy little sounds marking your victory.

“If you wanna keep enjoying that toy, you’ll have to find a way to keep it there yourself.” He said.

You almost laughed because it was so absurd. “You’re joking.”

“Are you sure about that?” He asked and you were aware of him getting up to leave you alone on the bed.

“How am I supposed to control a fucking toy when I’m all tied up?” You asked.

“Oh you’re a clever girl, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

You were quite unimpressed with the fact that you had to problem-solve. You were being forced to think when all that you wanted to do was go weak on the vibrator, you wanted the pleasure to erase all thoughts.

You clenched your thighs, bringing them to either side of the toy’s long handle. It took some strength but you succeeded in keeping the toy from rolling away or getting displaced. You tilted your pelvis, rewarded with more pulsations, not quite on your clit, but close enough that the nerves in the hood responded.

“I could keep holding it there for you. But I think it’s about time that you helped me to feel good too, hm?” He said.

You lifted your head, needing a moment to find the right angle so you could look at him. Your focus was instantly secured when you saw that he had finally taken his pants and underwear off. His boner was right there and your fingers twitched, new cravings sweeping through you.

“Yes, Daddy.” You said.

He smiled as he moved to sit down on the bed. He placed himself up at the head of the bed, pillows behind his back. He was close to where your immobile body was currently positioned.

You kept your eyes on him as he slid his ass down. This brought his body (and most importantly, his erection) closer to your face. You held your head up as high as you could, licking your lips. His fingers started to stroke through your hair.

“Is this my dessert?” You asked.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it is.” He got in even closer, lifting your head and repositioning it to rest on his thigh. “Look at this. You wouldn’t let me cook for you for our first date. But here I am, about to feed you something only I can give to you.”

You didn’t have any witty comments that you could respond with. Instead you busied your mouth by applying kisses to the side of his length. You saw his dick twitch in his anticipation as you laid down one chaste kiss after another. You took your time, slowly indulging in his cock as the toy’s vibrations fed your lust even further.

You didn’t rush through the process of appreciating his cock. More of his primal scent filled your nostrils, an intoxicating aroma. You tried to surprise him, sporadically parting your lips so that you could glide your tongue along his hot and taut skin. You glanced up at him, finding his eyes had fluttered shut as the corners of his lips started to subtly lift. It was all the encouragement that you needed, progressing to kiss more of this middle portion of his dick.

He had stopped playing with your hair, now he wrapped some of the strands around his fingers. His other hand went to the underside of his erection, supporting it (or else presenting it like a meal on a silver platter). You kissed him a bit firmer now.

He started to rub his hand up-and-down in this position of passively holding his cock. He wasn’t going very fast, probably just enjoying a bit of motion.

You gradually kissed a trail in the direction of his tip. A move of your hips allowed you to feel the tireless vibrations with more strength. You moaned against his length.

He sharply inhaled as you got your mouth to his head. You parted your lips and moved your tongue forward. You worked it in a broad upward stroke. Then you moved your tongue in circles, creating a ring of your spit on just his head.

“Yes. Oh, my little girl knows how to tease me so nice.” He said, his voice quieter than it had been at any point of the night.

You encapsulated his tip with your mouth. Instead of instantly sucking, you kept your tongue as the star of the show, massaging him with an increased pressure. His fingers started to curl around his dick as his stroking came in with more purpose and speed.

As he pumped his cock against your mouth, you worked your hips into the mattress, rocking on the vibrating wand. You couldn’t let your desires truly run wild (that wasn’t how he wanted it) but there were rewards to your little movements. The beginnings of friction was wonderful, encouraging the warm pleasure to seep through more of your body.

“Oh yeah, you want some more of it?” He asked in a sweet tone.

He pulled his hand closer to himself as you pushed your lips forward. This was when you commenced sucking, creating a seal with your mouth. His hand kept at the final half of his erection, a distinct rhythm to be noticed. You tried to match this with how you moved your hips.

“Do you know that I can see the way you’re smiling?” He asked.

Smiling? You were instantly confused by this statement. You didn’t know that you were physically capable of smiling right now. Your lips were otherwise occupied.

But you weren’t going to take your mouth off of his dick to disagree over something so harmless.

“It’s not the first time I’ve seen you do it, either.” He said. “I’ve never had a girl smile while she sucks me off before. You’re so proud to do it.”

With some effort, you rocked yourself over to the side, emptying your mouth. You gasped in a deep breath as the pressure was temporarily alleviated from your chest. Your thighs kept the toy where it was needed.

You licked up the length of his cock a few times, pausing to look at the pleased expression on his face. “Damn right I’m proud to suck it, I’m always proud to give you any kind of pleasure.” You resumed your licking.

His eyes appeared to become more focused. “That thing vibrating your clit isn’t the best toy ever… you are.”

Now you were definitely smiling as you tirelessly ran your tongue up his shaft.

He gathered your hair up into both of his hands. “Open up nice and wide, Daddy wants to feed it all to you now.” You pushed yourself back onto your chest, getting closer to his dick. “That’s right.” You wrapped your lips around him. “If your tummy wasn’t full after that pasta, I’m gonna make sure it gets full. I’m gonna give you so much cum to eat.”

The toy had been moved during your repositioning, the vibrations ceasing to have any effect on your clit. It was too low now, pulsating against the top of your thigh.

As you set your mouth into pacing on his dick, you decided to just let the vibrator go. You couldn’t be bothered to try to fix it. It would take a lot of effort to get it back to the right spot, and you couldn’t be sure the result would be worth it.

You put your focus and energy into something you knew would be entirely worth it. You slid your lips up-and-down his shaft. You were headed for the balls, but you didn’t push yourself to reach them at once. For now you were exploring your range of motion, finding a speed that could be maintained.

His head bumped and pushed against the roof of your mouth. He kept both hands in your hair but it didn’t seem that he was on the verge of tugging on the strands. You took this as a gesture of encouragement, rather than him wishing he could steer you.

“Do you wanna show me how much you can take?” He asked, not moving in any way that would be making the decision for you. “You took it really deep last time and I, oh, I loved how that felt.”

For a moment you plunged your mouth down, trying to fill all of him into your mouth. He gasped and his hands temporarily tensed in your hair. There was already drool on your chin as you pushed your tongue out, past your lips. You used this to get your first taste of his balls. You stroked the tip of your tongue against them for just a moment.

Then you had to retract for the sake of catching your breath. Your lips were back on him as quickly as you could manage. Starting at his tip, you created a firm ring around his width.

You took your time in drawing his entire length into your mouth. You chose to give almost every inch its own appreciation, letting his sensitivities develop. You worked yourself down a bit, then your mouth stroked him up-and-down from this point, hinting at the tempo you could treat him with.

He whispered your name, his breath coming in heavier. Listening to his inescapably honest noises was a good distraction from the strain you were feeling in your neck. You didn’t let yourself acknowledge how uncomfortable this abnormal position was. You sucked your cheeks in tight around him, wanting to bring more sounds out of him before you considered tapping out.

You had gained his entire shaft into your mouth, that distinct flavour beginning to grace your tastebuds.

“Good girl.” He said, shifting a little in his current position. As the excitement grew, he had to work to hold himself back, but the reckless energy was lying in wait.

He let you take the next step in your own time. You moved your mouth to that point where his head was allowed into your throat.

“Yes.” He moaned, his extended legs hugging to your sides.

You eased back from this depth after some sucking. You used your lips to pump his cock, a fast motion that gave him more friction. You ended each swing downward by letting him touch the opening of your throat. You were always ready to take him back to this spot.

His fingers conformed to the shape of the back of your head. He had started to lift his butt from the mattress slightly, so pleased with the pace you had created that he was contributing to it. As you moved together, his sounds got louder.

There was a subtle change and you realised that he had taken over the role of leader, setting the pace to what he desired. He was spending a little longer in your throat.

“Oh honey, I can’t wait to give you my cum. You’re doing such a great job at earning it. Mmn…” His hum was drawn out, then you felt a powerful twitch in his limbs. His hips snapped up faster than you were expecting and he hesitated from pulling out of your throat at once. “Uh, uh-huh.”

He eased back, his swollen tip rubbing against the roof of your mouth. You reaffirmed your mouth’s hold on his width. He didn’t pause to catch his breath, eagerly getting back to his rutting.

His movements grew to be less predictable for you and his reactions to the feeling of your throat got bigger. He continued to be in control of the rhythm. There was no chance for you to gain the authority back, now all of your effort was going to just keeping up with him. You worked to not get thrown off in between the moments of synching up.

His enjoyment didn’t suffer because you could no longer match him. Regardless of how you felt like you were failing to get back onto the perfect pacing, his sounds continued getting louder. You recognised the taste of his precum as it leaked out of him.

“Little girl, oh, oh, oh.” He whimpered as he grinded against your face. “Yes, fuck yes, yea-... fuck.”

He plunged right into your throat, immediately his cum coated this area, sliding down and demanding to be swallowed. You kept your lips set around him as he moved through his orgasm still vocalising. Some of the sounds that he made were close to words, while others didn’t have a single coherent syllable.

He slumped back and you took him the rest of the way out of your mouth, gasping in as much air as you could. You rolled onto your side a little, making refilling your lungs easier. Your contact with the vibrating wand ended. You rested your wet face on his thigh as you came back into your own body. The start of aches demanded to be acknowledged, there was no way to lie that made your limbs feel normal.

You looked up to him, finding he was leaning against the headboard for support now. He rested a hand over his face as he experienced the after-effects of his orgasm. But you couldn’t let him get lost in his recovery.

“Damiano, can I please be untied now?” You asked.

He sprung into action straight away, his hands reached out for the ropes. His fingers quickly got to work. “Are you okay? It hasn’t caused you any pain, has it?”

“No, I’m just starting to get kinda sore.” You told him.

It was an immense relief to get to stretch your left leg out. You pulled your arm around to the front of your body. None of your movements went unnoticed, you felt keenly aware of what each muscle was doing. Even once your right side was freed, you still felt the tension in your limbs.

“You did such an amazing job, honey. I was hoping we could get through the whole blow job with you bound and we did, you did.” He said as you rolled onto your back. “And that was your first time being restrained? You’re incredible, you’re so incredible.”

“Thank you Daddy.” You said, knowing there was no point in trying to match his current energy, that was beyond your capabilities.

He swooped down, covering your lips in kisses. “I’ll take care of you now. Roll over and I’ll massage your shoulders.”

You didn’t need any further convincing, rolling to return your tummy to the mattress. You had the unpleasant sensation of pins and needles in more than one spot on your body.

He applied his hands firmly to your shoulders, gripping and squeezing with the right amount of force. Then he pressed his thumbs against your skin, beginning to move them in a slow fanning motion. You let your eyes flutter shut, glad to feel the strain easing already.

“Is that good?” He asked when he relocated his thumbs to the nape of your neck. He pushed against the muscle with little circles.

You hummed. “It rocks. How come you’ve never massaged me before?”

“You haven’t ever asked for one.” He said.

“Well that’s about to change.” You said, making him laugh.

He pressed his knuckle against your spine and you let out a surprised sound as he rocked it back-and-forth. But it didn’t take long to settle into this feeling, deciding that you definitely liked it. He moved it down another inch or so, then repeated the technique.

“I love taking care of you.” He said, your focus keenly sharpened, but you couldn’t think of anything to say back. “And I think I’m pretty damn good at it.”

“You’re good at everything.” You managed to say.

He moved his hands up, concentrating on one of your arms then the other. The brief pressure that he applied felt good, it brought an immediate relaxation to each area.

Even though you figured that you would be too horny to actually fall asleep. His massage was so soothing that you could see it causing you to drift off, in another situation.

“Is that feeling better?” He asked as his fingers kneaded at the tight muscles in your thigh.

You moaned out your approval. “Hell yes.”

You couldn’t help moaning again as he pushed the heel of each palm up your thighs, you felt like you could melt. With each decadent rub from his hands, you could remember less clearly how it had felt to be tied up in such a strange position. You were on the way to forgetting it altogether.

He moved to sit in a different spot. “Come here and I’ll rub your neck some more.”

“That sounds so spectacular.” You said.

The strain in your body was gone, your muscles feeling at their usual low level of significance. He was sitting with his legs parted and you put yourself in the space between his thighs. You put your back to him, leaving a slight gap between the two of you.

His hands went to your shoulders and you made another happy vocalisation, feeling like you could melt again. He rubbed his fingers deep into your skin.

When he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck you let out a dreamy sigh. You leaned closer to him and rocked your head back. You were keen to increase the intimacy without getting into any trouble for challenging his authority.

He began to suck on your skin and you could feel heat rushing into your cunt. He pressed his chest to you and you grabbed for his leg, pressing your nails against his skin as he found a way to make this massage feel even better.

“That’s so good, Daddy.” You whispered.

He let you feel his teeth on your skin for a fleeting moment, before entirely releasing his mouth from this hold. “Do you need me to massage anywhere else?” Instantly your mind raced and his hands left your shoulders. “Maybe somewhere lower…”

You were so eager that you couldn’t help moaning as soon as you felt him cup a hand to your pussy. This was the part where you truly melted.

It was exciting to know that you were finally going to have his attention exactly where you wanted. It would be torturous if he teased your cunt any further. You needed the release more than anything.

He began to rub his fingers against your labia majora, a deep caress that wasn’t quite as deep as you required. At the same time he resumed kissing your neck. You weren’t paying much attention to the lengths of his sucks (you didn’t care if he was actively creating hickeys), you were focused on the rhythm that he was fondling you at. As he groped, he dragged his hand slowly up-and-down your crotch. It was such an enticing motion that you joined in on it, your breath coming in quicker as you rolled your hips in time with him.

He let you feel more pressure, leading him to use his fingers to part your labia. You put more strength into how you moved your hips, placing so much purpose into every pump. More-and-more blood came into your cunt and it was getting harder to keep your patience in check.

He pulled his hand up then pushed two of his fingers down, into the wet area where your clit was located. You barely choked back the sob that came from you when his fingers glided over the bud. At this point, your clitoris was practically aching for some attention. The keen nerves had made the hood stand up, so receptive to the unhurried rubbing.

You enjoyed how warm and soft his fingers were as they remained set in that predictable motion. Your skin between his lips was subjected to the occasional rubbing from his tongue. He prioritised sucking on you here over taking some deep breaths.

“Fuck…” You moaned when his fingertips glided down to your entrance.

He slightly curled these fingers and at the same time you plunged your hips forward into his hand with more power. You weren’t quite reckless yet. But the motivation was definitely there as this increased pressure invited lovely tingles into your body.

His fingertips briefly pushed into your cunt to conclude each stroke downward. This caused your inner-walls to clench, the eagerness ready to spill over at any second. He went in by about an inch before always pulling his fingers out and up, leaving you craving so much more. You whined, your desires fighting with your need to behave accordingly.

It took you time to recognise that he had stopped moving his hand. As he peppered the top of your shoulder with kisses, his arm didn’t move. The motion of his fingers was being created just by you. You grinded yourself up-and-down, his curled fingers gliding over the sensitive spots.

“Please.” You begged as your pussy was eased open with the tips of his fingers.

“Do you wanna come, little girl?” He asked.

You rested your head on his shoulder, needy moans falling from your lips. “So fucking bad.”

Instead of giving you more, he pulled his hand away altogether. Your clitoral hood pulsed, absolutely desperate to be given the right kind of stimulation.

He moved away from you. “Just let me put this condom on, then you can do whatever you like.”

You turned around, seeing him collect the packet that had been placed on the nightstand earlier. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now you saw that he was erect again.

“How do you feel about being on top?” He asked.

“I feel good about it, really good..” You said.

He began to lie down on his back. “Yeah, I thought you could have fun like this. Plus you look so good when you’re on top of me.”

You didn’t hesitate to climb on top of him, your knees going to either side of his hips. “Does this look good to you?”

“Hell yes.” He answered, wrapping his arms around your middle as he moved in to capture a kiss. “It feels just as good as it looks.”

You smiled before initiating the next kiss, not letting this one end as quickly as the last. You settled your body on top of his, wrapping an arm around his neck. You kissed him slow and deep, indulging in this feeling that was the beginning of your lust getting in sync with his. The entire night had been building up to this moment and you were so excited to discover how it would unfold.

The time for teasing was definitely over, so far as you were concerned. You hardly waited to start lining yourself up with his cock. It was a relief when he didn’t try to stop you.

It was an even greater relief when the head of his dick commenced stretching you open. You moved your hips down towards his body, at long last getting to feel stimulations on your inner-walls. Your puffy lips wrapped around him, prompting him to gasp against your mouth. You sucked on his lower lip as his arms tightened around you.

The connection was wonderful, feeling like it had been worth the wait. Your body was so tuned and ready for him, your cunt slicking his dick straight away.

Your rhythm on his lips started to suffer as your focus went to testing how your body could move on his. Feeble kisses were exchanged as you stroked yourself up-and-down his length. He swiped his tongue against your lip, his arms holding you so securely as you explored.

Your thrusts started to come in consistently. Your thighs gripped to his hips as you locked into this promising motion. The gaps between kisses lengthened as you grew similarly breathless.

“Show me how much you wanna come.” He commanded in a whisper.

Your hands were in fists around the pillow his head rested on as you brought your hips down on him at a quick and hungry speed. Well-timed writhing from him saw him plunging deeper into your sensitive pussy. These shocks radiated through your system, strong enough to overpower you. It had the potential to overwhelm you and you instantly wanted more of it.

You got obsessed with that depth and the push that preceded it. You sacrificed most of your coordination, now moving with reckless abandon. The sounds of your body slamming into him got louder, accompanied by his ragged breaths and your ecstatic whines.

His hands grasped your lower back, fingers creating dips in the soft area. “Use me to make yourself come, like a good girl. Do it.”

You jackhammered into him, your body consumed by your burning need. Each time his tip spread your clenching pussy, you felt yourself closer to that glimmering sensation of becoming complete.

But he beat you to the release. He convulsed up into you, burying every inch of himself into you. He pressed his face into your chest, you swiftly recognised his strangled noises as accompanying a climax.

You didn’t try to reclaim your friction as his body vibrated against yours. You were breathless, ready to be overcome. And the spasming of your over-stimulated pussy took you there.

You burst, your excitement reaching an unbelievable height. You threw your head back, letting out your loudest (and most triumphant) moan of the night. The release hit you on every single level, showing you that all of the effort had been worth it to claim that perfection, before you began to fade away.

You felt him moving and carefully repositioning you but you didn’t have the capacity to react. Maybe you were smiling as your back reached the mattress, or maybe you looked as mindless as you felt. It would be a task for later to piece yourself back together.

Sometime later, you were still feeling like you were floating as you started to open your eyes. He looked peaceful as he laid beside you, running his fingers through your messed-up hair. You saw the subtle but satisfied smile on his mouth.

You felt the echoes of your bursting, giving you a giddy rush and you were being urged on. You hadn’t expected to feel more energy and you needed to touch him, hear him, connect with him further.

You kissed him, then rushed to say something so he couldn’t ask what that was for. “You’ve gotta tell me, we never got to it- what was your most terrible first date?”

He pondered this as he rolled onto his side, facing you. “Well I used to think that all of them were fine, nothing to complain about, not to brag in contrast to your story. But after tonight and seeing how great that was… They’re all garbage. Every single first date that I’ve had before you was truly terrible.”

Why did hearing that make you feel like you needed to hide your face? His sincerity gave you a new reason to blush. “Oh my gosh, that’s so sweet.”

“It’s true, I hate to diss those other girls. But it is what it is.”

As you stared at him, noticing every detail of his face, that feeling of being urged on came back. It was deep and you were intimidated as it pulled you to him. You thought you might be as intimidated as you were right before you had slept with him the first time. You were in a similar position of feeling cautious as you faced the unknown.

“I think…”

His chuckle filled in the silence left by your hesitation. “You’ve still got thoughts in that head of yours? I wasn’t trying to make you brain dead with all of that teasing, but I thought it was a possibility.”

“Heh, yeah…” You quietly responded.

He was smiling as he caressed your cheek. “I’m sorry for interrupting, babydoll. Please, go on, what were you thinking about?”

Your breath was getting shorter. “I think I love you.”

Before you could take a breath, his lips were colliding with yours. “I love you too.”

THE END! thankyou for loving this trilogy, this fic is over now

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