#Chris Sturniolo X reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sturnioz · 5 days ago

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‘SEVEN DAYS’ — CHRIS STURNIOLO

pairing. chris sturniolo x fem!reader. genre. established relationship au, smut.

word count. 16.6k.

❝you can handle me for seven days.❞

content warnings. crack humour involved, crude jokes, explicit content, multiple sex scenes, oral (female and male receiving), unprotected sex, bathroom sex, backshots, riding, car sex, kitchen sex, anal, dirty talk, heavy petting, creampies, hair pulling, squirting, spanking, | nicknames like 'baby', 'babe', 'ma', and 'mama' are used throughout.

# ( PROLOGUE )

“What are you doing?”

Your eyebrows pull together as you step into the room, your gaze immediately landing on Chris, who's seated at the kitchen table.

He's hunched over, chunky headphones covering his ears, a rainbow of coloured pens scattered around him—some uncapped and rolling close to the edge of the table as his hand moves quickly, scribbling something on a sheet of paper.

Strands of curly hair have fallen into his face, concealing most of his expression, but even without seeing his eyes, you know that look—the one where he's so lost in focus that the rest of the world doesn't even exist to him right now.

Turning your head, you spot Nick and Matt in the living-room. Matt is sprawled across the couch, his legs stretched out comfortably while his thumb idly scrolls through his phone. Nick sits on the other end, his feet propped up on the coffee table with a bowl of popcorn balancing in his lap, his attention fixed on the tv screen.

You glance back at Chris, still oblivious, deciding to try a different approach as you shift your gaze back to the boys.

"What is he doing?"

“I have no idea. He won’t tell us, and honestly? I don’t give a fuck,” Nick responds without looking away from the screen, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth before continuing. “But we actually have some peace and fucking quiet for once, let’s not bother him—please.”

With a crease in your forehead, you cross the room to approach the kitchen table, setting your bag down on the edge with a soft thud, hoping the sound will draw Chris attention.

It doesn't.

Instead, the noise seems to have caught Nick and Matt’s attention as their heads abruptly snap in your direction almost in unison.

Matt's gaze narrows in irritation, his brows furrowing slightly as he shoots you an unimpressed look. Nick, on the other hand, raises a finger to his lips in an exaggerated shushing motion, and you retaliate by flipping him off, ignoring his dramatic response of wide eyes and placing his hand on his chest as if you brutally offended him.

Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, you fill it with water, glancing over at Chris as you take a sip, hoping to catch even the slightest bit of acknowledgement, but he remains blissfully unaware. His head still bent low, hand darting across the paper in quick scribbles.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you abandon your efforts and decide to join the others, allowing Nick to tug your arm and pull you down beside him. The sudden movement sends your glass wobbling, but you manage to keep a firm grip before any water spills.

Nick throws a blanket over the two of you and nestles against your side, barely giving you any time to adjust before he shoves the popcorn bowl into your lap, offering you some.

You reach into the bowl and grab a handful, savouring the buttery, sweet taste that melts on your tongue as you chew, your gaze flicking to the TV where a heated argument is happening between the couple on the screen.

“She needs to dump him immediately,” Nick scoffs, gesturing towards the screen with a dramatic wave of his hand. “If someone ever talked to me like that, I’m karate chopping their head off their fucking neck.”

“She actually spoke to him like that first, though,” Matt murmurs from your right without looking up from his phone, his thumb still scrolling as he speaks. “She said somethin’ about his personality — like it was borin' or whatever.”

Nick slowly turns his head to look at Matt, blinking comically. “And I thought you said you weren’t interested in watching this show?”

Matt finally lifts his head, his eyes narrowing as he shoots Nick a flat look. “Kid, you got the fuckin’ volume on eighty or some shit.”

“Excuses, excuses… blah, blah, blah—”

Matt cuts him off, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Real fuckin’ mature, kid.”

Nick leans back against you comfortably, unbothered with the fact he's pissing Matt off. “Blah, blah, blah—”

The bickering continues back and forth for a while, their voices overlapping with each other, and you shake your head, taking another sip of water as you watch them both—but before Matt can fire another response back, a new voice breaks through the conversations.

“I didn’t know you were here…” The unexpected interruption pulls your attention away, and you glance over your shoulder to see Chris rising from his seat at the kitchen table, his movements slow as he pulls off his headphones and sets them down with a quiet clink before he makes his way toward you with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Without another word, Chris slides into the gap between you and Matt, squeezing himself beneath the blanket that covers you and Nick—his lanky limbs awkwardly tangling with yours as he settles in, and he wraps himself around you tightly.

He buries his face in the crevice of your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he exhales deeply, his body melting into yours.

Nick huffs loudly, shifting away as Chris’ hand accidentally brushes against his head, and he lets out a dramatic groan as he sits up straight. His head had been resting comfortably on your shoulder just moments ago, but with Chris now firmly in place, he’s been forced away.

Chris doesn’t pay Nick the slightest bit of attention. Instead, he presses a series of soft, feather-light kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck, and you find yourself smiling as his arms tighten securely around your waist.

Matt glances over, his brow lifting in curiosity. “What were you doin’ over there?” he asks, nodding toward the cluttered kitchen table. When Chris doesn’t respond, Matt’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance. “Alright, cool, I’ll just go fuck myself then.”

Chris barely lifts his head, his voice muffled against your neck. “None of your business anyway.”

Matt lets out a scoff and rises from the couch, announcing that he’s heading to his room for the rest of the night, and he throws a glance at Nick who’s already tossing the blanket off his lap, seemingly doing the same thing.

Nick stands up and stretches lazily, his shirt riding up slightly. “Yeah, I’m out too. I’m not gonna sit here and be third-wheeled, thank you very much.”

With that, Matt disappears down the hallway to his room, and Nick heads upstairs to his, leaving you and Chris alone in the living-room.

Chris finally lifts his head from your neck once the quiet settles in, and his fingers touch your cheek as he gently turns your face toward his. His eyes meet yours for a moment before he draws you closer, his lips brushing yours in a tentative, tender kiss.

You respond almost immediately, shifting to wrap your arms around his neck and pulling yourself closer. Chris tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss as his lips part against yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth as the kiss becomes slower—more intimate.

You both stay like that for a while, the soft sounds of your kissing blending in with the TV in the background along with the blanket that rustles in your laps. Eventually, you pull back, your chest rising and falling steadily as you catch your breath, and Chris presses on last chaste kiss to your lips.

"What were you doing earlier?" you ask curiously, hoping to get a response from him this time.

Chris grins as he tugs you up from the couch, and he leads you back to the kitchen table, where his pens are paper are still scattered across the messy surface. The sheet of paper he'd been scribbling on earlier sits in the centre, and he slides it toward you, turning it so you can see clearly. Your eyes flit over the page, taking in the messy but colourful layout.

The title, 'SEVEN DAYS' is scrawled across the top in bold letters, with scribbled notes and doodles through money to sunday in small boxes.

Your eyebrows knit together as your finger traces the title, "You made a calendar?"

Chris shifts closer to you, his arm draping casually over your shoulder. "It's a little somethin' we're gonna be doing for the week."

The corner of your lips lift in a pleasant surprise. "You planned dates for us?"

Chris shakes his head, his grin turning mischievous. "Not exactly."

Before you can press him for more details, he pulls out his phone, unlocking it quickly with a swipe of his thumb. He angles the screen toward you, showing a video of a couple dedicating a challenge to a popular song.

At first, you don't noticing anything unusual about the video, until the lyrics of the song becomes clearer, and the activities written on that couple's calendar comes up which makes your eyes widen and mouth part in shock.

"You... made a sex calendar?!"

"Hey, hey—easy..." Chris shushes, using the hand draped over your shoulder to clap it over your mouth. "You wanna say that shit louder next time?"

You glare at him, your expression deadpan, your lips still pressed against his palm. Chris holds your gaze for a moment before his grin starts to creep back, and he taps your mouth lightly with his fingers, as if to tease you, before finally lowering his hand.

"It sounds crazy, I know—" he says, holding his hands up defensively as you continue to stare at him in disbelief. "But c'mon... you're not a little bit interested?"

"You're crazy," you murmur, stepping away from him to take another look at the calendar he's created, staring at the spaces that are still blank, left for the two of you to fill in. "There's, like, no way we can actually do this for seven days."

Chris hums softly, and you feel the warmth of his best pressing against your back as his hands rub your shoulders, his fingers finding the spots where your neck meets your shoulders, gently kneading the area in slow, deliberate circles as he leans in close to your ear.

"You know you can handle me for seven days."

# ( MONDAY, DAY ONE )

Your eyebrows knit together in your half-asleep state, a tired noise emitting from you as you feel a weight nestled between your legs—gentle hands prying your thighs apart. You exhale deeply and shift in bed, trying to turn onto your side but a breathy gasp escapes past your lips when you feel warm air blowing against your clit.

You stir awake, vision blurred and lashes sticky with sleep as you weakly push yourself up on your elbows, gaze falling down to a mess of curly hair between your thighs. You squirm when you feel the similar warm air blowing again, but Chris’ hands hold your hips to the bed, forcing you to remain still as he glances up at you.

“I’ve been waitin’ for you to get up,” Chris hums against the skin of your thigh where he presses gentle kisses, his eyes locked on yours. His lips curl into a smirk once he pulls away, “Why you starin’ at me like that?”

“Just… wondering what you’re doing.”

Chris clicks his tongue against his teeth as he tuts, shaking his head as his grip tightens on your hips. “Don’t tell me you forgot already… it begins today—seven days, remember?”

You breathe out, “I didn’t think you were serious about that.”

“I’m serious about everythin’ we do,” Chris drawls. He shifts between your legs, his hands moving from your hips to lock around your thighs. “Get comfortable f’me, baby. I want breakfast in bed to start off m’day.”

You snort, wanting to respond but you are lost for words when he presses his mouth to your pussy, licking a wet stripe through your folds before stopping to toy with your clit, swirling the wet muscle around it.

You moan quietly as your body slumps back against the mattress, your fingers tangling through his hair. His tongue dips down to your entrance, prodding teasingly at your hole and he pushes the tip inside, eliciting a louder noise from you.

His eyes flit up to you, a warning look in them to be quiet and you nod your head, sinking your teeth into your lower lip to conceal your noises as your grip tightens in his hair, moving your lower half in an attempt to grind against his face.

You can feel Chris’ smirk against you, his tongue pushing through your hole and wiggling as his hand comes down to thumb at your clit, and your legs quiver, getting closer to your orgasm much faster than planned.

Fingers twist in Chris’ hair as your back arches against the bed, your head thrown in pleasure—but you let out a choked cry when you feel his mouth let up from your pussy. His hand slides up the length of your body, pushing your chest down before a firm hand grips your chin, forcing you to look down at him.

He moves his mouth back down, lips suctioning around your clit and a suppressed cry leaves your lips, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as your eyes close from pleasure, but with Chris’ grip on your chin, he shakes your head to get your attention.

“Eyes open,” He orders, words muffled. “Keep ‘em open f’me—I know you can do it.”

You nod your head, keeping your eyes open to watch Chris go back down, his tongue lapping the length of your pussy and you bite down harder on your bottom lip, your fingers gripping his hair tightly.

He eats you out as if he’s starved all while his gaze is locked on you, making sure your own eyes remain open. With the hand that’s not gripping your chin, he’s pinning you to the bed when your hips twitch, groaning against your cunt, and the vibrations cause you to let go of your lip as your mouth drops open, panting heavily.

The sounds from between your legs are disgusting; your gushing pussy, his tongue lapping you up through heavy grunts and moans, and one specific flick of his tongue sends you over the edge, your body trembling as your orgasm washes over you.

Chris continues licking you through your high, loosening his grip on your chin to slide his hand down to your stomach, stroking the skin to soothe your heavy breathing, only stopping when you tug at his hair from the oversensitivity.

He’s grinning as he crawls up your body, slotting himself between your legs and pressing his lips to yours, and you immediately taste yourself on his tongue when it slides into your mouth, causing you to moan softly as you circle your arms around his shoulders.

Chris parts away to glance down between your bodies, his breathing laboured as he fists his cock—freed from his plaid pants a while ago, and he rubs the head through your soaked folds, tapping the tip against your clit before his head raises up to meet your gaze.

“You good?” He asks, and you nod your head, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Alright, just—just keep quiet f’me.”

With another nod of your head, Chris pushes his hips forward, sinking into your warmth.

You gasp in his ears, letting go of the curls at his nape to grab his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as his cock stretches out your walls, filling you up. He shoves his face in the crook of your neck, thrusting in and out of your pussy slowly.

He feels good—too good to keep quiet and you press your mouth to his shoulder, muffling your moans as your walls squeeze around him, suctioning him in deep which causes his chest to vibrate with a groan.

“That’s it—fuck,” Chris mumbles in your ear. “Keep squeezin’ me in like that, baby.”

You follow through with his request and your walls clamp around his cock, causing Chris to fuck you harder against the bed. He raises his head, wetting his bottom lip before tucking it between his teeth as he stares down at you, the headboard rocking against the wall with each deep thrust.

He reaches his hand up to press his palm against it, holding it to the wall to prevent any more noise. You would’ve been delighted if it wasn’t for his cock rubbing against your inner walls, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, the band in your stomach tightening with each thrust of his hips.

The pleasure builds between your legs and you struggle to hold it back, your teeth immediately sinking into Chris’ shoulder to conceal your noise as you cum, your cunt clamping around him and drawing him towards his own orgasm.

“Shiiit,” He grunts in the crevice of your neck, coating your insides with cum, filling you up.

His thrusts are slower—steady movements that have his lower half rubbing over your clit, making your spine tingle and toes curl in bliss. Soon, he comes to a stop and rests his body weight on top of yours, pressing light, feathery kisses to your sweaty skin as the both of you try to catch your breath.

When Chris finally moves to pull out of you, he sits up on his knees, head ducked to watch his cum leaking out of you with a grin, and his eyes flit up to yours with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows which results in you kicking him weakly in his side.

“Okay, okay,” Chris laughs, grabbing your ankle to stop you. His thumb strokes across your skin as he murmurs, “Y’know… I think I'll be down for more than seven days if I can see this view all the time.”

“Seven days is more than enough,” You giggle as you push yourself up on your elbows, squirming slightly when you feel his cum drip. “You can barely last three anyways.”

“Wha—ow,” Chris frowns, offended. His eyebrows knit together as he glances down at his cock that's softening against his thigh, “You really think lil’ Chris will be all worn out by Wednesday?”

Your amusement immediately washes from your face as you stare at Chris with a deadpan expression, “Don’t ever call it that again.” Chris opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head quickly. “No—no. Just help me to the bathroom so I can pee and have a shower.”

Chris takes his hand in yours as he slides off of the bed, pulling you up with him. His arm slides around your middle, helping you waddle to the bathroom and he flips on the light switch. You sit down to relieve yourself as Chris turns on the shower, his hand outstretched as he feels the temperature of the running water.

Chris takes a breath when he turns to you, “But d’you really—”

“Chris.”

# ( TUESDAY, DAY TWO )

Setting up one of Tara Yummy's infamous parties on a Tuesday evening wasn't exactly on your to-do list for the week. But when your best friend called you up, her voice filled with excitement and a hint of desperation, you couldn't say no.

You'd promise her once—probably more times than you could count—that you'd always be a helping hand when she needed it. And Tara? She always needed it.

Two hours of frantic shopping, hanging up decorations, blowing up an army of inflatables for the pool, and preparing far too many jello shots later, you find yourself standing in the middle of Tara's room, finally able to breathe.

You turn toward the mirror, fingers tying the strings of your red bikini top around your neck as you take a moment to analyse your reflection. You make sure everything is in place—secure and snug to be risk-free of any wardrobe malfunctions.

You twist your body to the side, checking the fit from a different angle as you fix your shorts until they sit just right on your hips.

"You look hot," Tara says from her spot at the vanity, her gaze flicking to you through the mirror. She's holding an eyeliner pen steady in one hand as she purses her lips, leaning closer to check her reflection. "Do you think we bought enough alcohol?"

You scoff lightly, adjusting the dainty necklace around your neck. The charm—a small, delicate 'C'—rests against your collarbones as you secure the clasp. "Yes, Tara. The price on the receipts proves it. Also, Jake and Johnny said they're bringing in a few more boxes when they arrive."

Tara perks up at that, her brows lifting in surprise. "They did?"

"They texted in the groupchat earlier."

Tara spins in her chair, snatching her phone off the vanity with one hand while the other swipes at the screen. Her perfectly glossed lips twist into a small pout as she scrolls through the endless flood of messages in your groupchat, and after a moment, she makes a small noise of acknowledgement, her nails tapping rapidly across the screen as she types out a response.

A second later, your own phone pings from its spot in your bag. You glance at it briefly but don't bother picking it up, already knowing it's something Tara had replied to the others.

"Anyways," Tara hums, setting her phone down to finish the last touches of her eyeliner. "Run me back through what you were saying earlier—about this calendar stuff."

"Chris found this challenge on TikTok called 'Seven Days' or something like that," you begin to explain to her. "It's basically where you have sex for seven days straight, and he decided to make a whole calendar for it."

"That's so crazy to me," she snorts, her dark eyes wide with amusement. "Also, I'm, like really surprised it was him who suggested it. That seems way more like a you thing."

The corner of your lips twitches, fighting back a smile. "You'd be surprised."

"And this all started yesterday?" she asks, one brow arching inquisitively, and you nod your head to confirm. "Okay, wait, so... did you do anything today?"

"No, because someone—" you pause, shooting her a pointed look that makes her grin innocently. "—dragged me out of the house at 10 o'clock this morning for breakfast, and a two-hour shopping trip for her party."

Tara snorts unapologetically, before she straightens up. "Wait. Does that mean Chris is going to show up here all cranky and sexually frustrated?" Her eyes widen dramatically as her hands fly to her temples, rubbing hard. "Please tell me he's not going to ruin the vibe. I can't handle moody people at my party—it stresses me out. Not good for my energy."

You shrug your shoulders with a teasing smile, refusing to get her an answer. Tara lets out a drawn out groan, throwing her head back like she's just been dealt with something awful, and the exaggerated action makes you cackle.

Once the laughter fades, you both turn back to the mirror, putting the final touches on your outfits and ensuring your makeup is perfect. Once feeling ready, the two of you click together a pair of shot glasses filled with tequila to kickstart the night, and you welcome the familiar burn that slips down the back of your throat.

It doesn’t take long before the guests to start arriving in groups, and you and Tara head downstairs to the lively party area, greeting her guests and mutual friends with warm smiles and compliments on their beach-inspired outfits before you move through the crowd, scanning faces for one in particular.

But before you can find him, you're momentarily caught up in conversations. Familiar faces stop you to chat, and a few strangers introduce themselves, exchanging names and socials with you. You lose track of time as the party buzzes around you: drinks are flowing, music is thumping, and some are screaming over party games.

It's only when you glance toward the far end of the kitchen that you finally spot him. Chris stands there with Nick and Matt, his signature red cap perched backward on his head, and a grin plays on his lips as he listens to whatever Nick is saying.

Your chest tightens with excitement, and a wide smile spreads across your face as you bound over to him.

Chris notices you immediately, his eyes lightening up as you approach. He licks his lips, adjusting the brim of his cap before leaning toward you. His arm slides around your waist, his palm resting at the small of your back as he pulls you into his chest.

Slotting his lips against yours, warm and firm, he kisses you deeply for a few moments. Then, with a grin tugging at his mouth, he trails a series of playful smooches along your cheek and down your jawline, hearing him chuckle against your skin as you giggle at the ticklish sensation.

“Alright, enough,” Nick interjects beside you both, nursing a red solo cup in one hand while using the other to slide his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “It’s already nauseating seeing so many people all up on each other… I do not need to see you two doing it too.”

“Shut up, Nick,” Chris huffs as he pulls his face away from you, giving his brother a hard but playful glare before turning his attention back to you. His hand stays on your lower back, his thumb stroking your skin softly in a soothing motion. “You look good, baby.”

"Thank you," you say with a soft smile, leaning in to kiss Chris briefly. As you pull back, you can't help but snort at the lipstick mark left on his lips, using your thumb to wipe it away while his fingers absentmindedly toy with the necklace around your neck, fixing the charm.

"Are you drunk already?" Matt's voice cuts through the music, his gaze fixed on you as he squints like he's trying to figure out if you're drunk or sober.

"I had four shots, asshole," you retort, shooting him a playful look. "Are you drunk?"

"I'm the driver, kid—use your brain," Matt teases, holding up a soda can in one hand and jingling his car keys in the other as if to drive his point home. You immediately flip him off, making him laugh as he takes a slow sip from his drink.

The rest of the night flows seemingly well, and you stick with the triplets for most of the party, occasionally slipping away to mingle with others alongside Tara, who keeps a tight grip on your hand and a drunken smile on her face. You both catch up with friends, dance to the music, hand out jello shots, and throw inflatables into the pool for others to grab.

You are having fun, but every so often your gaze drifts toward Chris, who is in the middle of a heated beer pong game with Matt and a few other guests. He catches you staring, flashing you a grin and a wink that makes your chest flutter.

You watch as he lines up his next shot with confidence, his arm steady as he tosses the ping pong ball that lands perfectly int he cup, and the kitchen erupts into cheers. Chris throws his arms in the air in celebration, laughing hysterically as Matt tackles him in a tight hug, the two stumbling slightly.

Nick, standing off to the side filming the entire thing, looks utterly stunned—his jaw hanging open in a mix of shock and impressiveness.

You decide to head over to congratulate Chris and re-join them, but before you can take a step, a hand grips your arm and tugs you back into place.

"Where are you going?" Tara slurs as she stares at you with wide, glassy eyes. Her flushed cheeks and unsteady stance make it clear she'd had more than a few drinks, especially with the grip she has on your arm. "Join me in the pool!"

You laugh, shaking your head. "I'm not going in the pool. I'm gonna go see Chris."

Tara pouts dramatically, her grip loosening but not quite letting go. "You're no fun. Party pooper," she sighs before scrunching her nose and grinning at you mischievously. "You're totally gonna go hook-up, aren't you?"

Your eyes widen at the volume of her voice, and you laugh again as you try to hush her. "Tara—"

"Yeah, yeah, whateverrrr," she interrupts with a dismissive wave, smacking your arm lightly. "Go have fun—but my room is off-limits. Use one of the upstairs bathrooms, nobody's allowed up there anyway."

"Tara—"

"Shhhhhh," she drawls, pressing her finger to your lips to silence you. You stifle a laugh, but remain quiet for her to speak. "Go complete date two... and don't forget to tell me all the juicy details later. I'm so serious."

Shaking your head, you smile despite yourself and give her a quick hug, feeling a twinge of guilt for leaving her—but you know Tara is more than capable of keeping herself entertained.

Turning back toward the kitchen, you weave your way through the crowd until you reach Chris, and he lifts his head as you approach, his grin widening when he sees you. His arm is draped casually over the edge of the ping pong table, but his focus shifts entirely to you as you slide into his side.

His arm curls around your shoulders automatically, his fingers brushing against your skin as they toy with the strap of your bikini. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his breath is warm against your skin, and the small gesture fills you with a sense of calm and comfort.

"You good?" he asks, his voice low and quiet as he murmurs in your ear.

You hum in response, leaning up to bring your lips close to his ear instead as you whisper your request for him to follow you upstairs. His gaze sharpens slightly, and he nods without hesitation, keeping his arm securely around you as the two of you move toward the stairs.

Tara’s makeshift ‘NO ACCESS’ sign dangles loosely from the railing, and you peel it away with a smirk before leading Chris up to the second floor. The noise from the party fades slightly as you slip down the hallway and make a beeline for the bathroom at the far end.

The air feels cooler here, quieter, and as soon as you step inside, the door clicks shut behind you. You fumble for the lock, but before you can secure it, Chris' lips meet yours with an intensity that sends a thrill through you.

His hands find your hips, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss and you melt into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as you kiss him back.

Chris grins against your lips as he feels you tug at his hair, and he squeezes your hips, pulling you flush against him as he deepens the kiss, his tongue gliding across your lower lip. You part your lips, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, pressing you against the cold bathroom counter as his hands slide down to your ass, giving it a playful slap.

Chris bites down gently on your bottom lip, tugging it with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch in your throat.

His chest rumbles with a deep chuckle as he kisses you again, his tone low as he utters, “Turn around f’me.”

You obey, turning around, laying your palms flat against the countertop as you meet Chris’ eyes in the reflection of the mirror, feeling hot under his gaze. He trails kisses across your shoulder blades, his hands coming around to caress your stomach before moving down to the waistband of your shorts, popping open the buttons and dragging the material down your legs along with your bikini bottoms.

Chris fumbles with the belt on his own pants next, his teeth biting his bottom lip as he frees himself, his fingers gripping his cock and giving a few lazily tugs before tapping the head to your puffy folds. You hum softly, leaning your forearms on the countertop, arching your back and pressing your ass against him, coaxing him to thrust inside already.

“Need you to relax f’me…” Chris murmurs softly, one hand massaging your hip as the other still holds his cock, positioning himself. “Just relax n’ take it, yeah?”

You don’t even have time to respond properly, only a quiet whine seeping past your lips as Chris pushes his hips forward. Your mouth drops open in a silent gasp at the stretch, unable to stop your legs from trembling as Chris continues to ease his cock inside your warmth.

“Shiiiiit, ma…” Chris hisses through his teeth once your ass is pressed to his hips—skin against skin. He grabs your arms and pulls them behind your back, bending you further over the countertop and locking you in place as he drives his cock inside of you at a speed you struggle to comprehend—your head dropping forwards with incoherent sounds spilling for your lips as he fucks you.

Chris moans each time he pounds into you, and you involuntarily squeeze your walls around him when his cock probes the spot deep within, toes curling in your shoes. He meets your gaze in the mirror and your mouth hangs open, wheezing short and quick breaths, unable to keep your eyes on him as they roll to the back of your head.

“Hey—hey… c’mere..” His hands remove their grip from your arms to wrap around your middle instead, pulling your back to his chest to keep you upright.

Your head slumps back on his shoulder, your fucked out expression sending a shiver down his spine.

“Look at you, ma. All fucked out on my cock… your pretty pussy can’t get enough of me, yeah? Want me that bad? Ha… look at you, mama, you’re droolin’.”

He continues to whisper nothing but filth in your ear as his hips thrust at a brutal pace; the sound of skin hitting skin echoing in the room, completely overtaking his hoarse moans and your pathetic whines.

You’re already cumming before you even recognise it, a choked moan leaving your lips as the coil in your stomach snaps, and your core clamps down on his cock as your high hits you with an intense force. Chris fucks you through it, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek while filling your insides with his own cum.

“You’re good, baby… you’re good,” Chris praises quietly as his motions begin to slow before coming to a stop, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as he gently kisses your shoulders and neck this time—helping your shaking body come down from its intense high.

You wince when Chris carefully pulls out of you, but you’re more than pleased when he turns you around, propping you against the counter and wiping the mess between your legs with gentle caresses. He throws the tissues into the toilet and helps pull your bikini bottoms and shorts up your legs, fastening the button with a smile on his lips.

“Fuckin’ in Tara’s bathroom was not on the calendar, but m’not mad about it,” He murmurs, his gaze flitting up to meet yours as he fixes your necklace. “She’s gonna be super fuckin’ pissed when she realises that some of m’kids are—Ow… really?”

# ( WEDNESDAY, DAY THREE )

Your eyebrows knit together as you stare down at the calendar resting on your lap, the faint rustling of paper breaking the silence. The Wednesday section catches your eye, where 'you can pick' is scrawled across the square in Chris' messy handwriting.

Your thumb lingers near your mouth, teeth grazing your nails as you bite down in deep concentration. Pursing your lips, you push yourself off the bed, the calendar in hand as you make your way out of Chris' bedroom. The soft padding of your bare feet against the flooring is the only sound as you climb the stairs toward the kitchen area.

The house feels oddly still, eerily quiet.

Matt and Nick had left earlier, their voices echoing through the halls as they shouted quick goodbyes, and you’d heard the slam of the garage door and the low rumble of the car as it started up, fading into the distance.

Now, it’s just you and Chris. Alone.

As you reach the kitchen, you spot him standing by the table, holding a can of pepsi in one hand while his other hand is occupied with his phone, scrolling through messages.

His brow is furrowed in that familiar look of focus, the faint glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes.

"Hey…" you call softly, your voice breaking the stillness in the room.

Chris looks up from his phone, and his expression softens almost instantly as a small smile tugs at his lips, watching you approach.

You hold up the calendar, pointing to the scribbled words with a furrowed brow. "What do you mean, ‘I can pick’?" Chris blinks, his gaze shifting from the calendar to your face, amusement flicking in his eyes as he replies, "It means you can pick."

You scoff lightly, giving him a pointed look as you cross your arms over your chest. "Didn't I technically pick yesterday? I'm the one who wanted to hook-up in the bathroom at Tara's house party."

"Sure," he concedes with a hum, a sly grin creeping across his face in a way that makes your stomach flip. "But, y'know... I was the one bendin' you over the bathroom counter and—"

"Okay!" you cut him off quickly, biting down on the inner skin of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing.

Chris chuckles, clearly pleased with your reaction, and he sets his phone and soda down on the kitchen table with a soft thud, then steps closer to you. His hands find your waist first, sliding around to rest low on your back, just above the curve of your ass as he pulls you in.

"Am I really picking what we do today?" you ask, your voice softer now, raising your eyebrow.

"Yeah," he murmurs, his lips brushing lightly against your neck as he plants a trail of kisses there, sending shivers skittering down your spine as he nibbles softly. "S'all up to you."

His words linger in the air as his fingers trace slow, lazy patterns against your back. It's hard to think straight when he's this close to you, when his lips are this soft against your skin, when the scent of him completely wraps around you.

"All up to me, huh?" you repeat, tilting your head back to look at him properly.

"Mhm," he hums as his eyes meet yours, his voice dropping as his hands slip a little lower. "No pressure, though."

You pause for a moment, a thought bubbling up in your mind. "For the entire challenge, do we both have to cum?"

"Uh, yeah," Chris answers almost immediately, giving you a look that suggests you're being a bit ridiculous asking that question. "Are you dumb? What's the point in doin' this shit if we're both not gettin' off?"

"I get that, but... I'm still pretty sore from yesterday."

"Sore?" he repeats, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Then, a smug grin spreads across his face, seemingly proud of himself as his arms tighten around you. "Really? Didn't think I fucked you that hard, babe."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile as you playfully pinch his side, causing Chris to hiss through laughter, his body jerking in response. He loosens one arm around your waist to grab your wrist, stopping your miniature attacks

He breathes out steadily through his nose, the sound low and intimate, leaning in to plant a soft peck to your lips—the sweetness of the gesture sends a flutter through your chest.

"What do you want me to do? Hm?" He asks quietly, his voice low as he presses another gentle kiss to your lips, lingering for just a moment longer before pulling back. "Want me to make it feel better?"

You watch as Chris drops to his knees before you, his hands gripping your hips firmly to press you against the kitchen counter. You can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop when you watch him slowly pull down your sweatpants and underwear, finding the sight of him on his knees too hot for you to handle, especially when he leans in to bury his face between your thighs, eyes locked on yours.

He presses gentle, loving kisses to your folds and you let out a soft moan, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as your hand comes down to rest on top of his head, your fingers threading through his hair as you feel his tongue massage the tender skin.

The tip of his tongue traces the length of your slit before circling around your swollen clit, keeping his movements slow as he alternates between long languid strokes along your cunt and delicate clicks against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

A muffled noise seeps past your lips when Chris parts your folds carefully with his thumbs and drags his tongue through your arousal, resuming his familiar swirls around your clit before drawing it into his mouth to suck gently.

Chris angles his head, his nose now bumping against your clit as his tongue probs your entrance, poking somewhat teasingly before sliding inside, stroking your inner walls.

He’s still gentle, allowing your aching cunt to adjust to the sensation before he starts thrusting his tongue, one hand curling around your body and gripping your ass, pulling you against his face as you writhe—hips uncontrollable.

At the same time of curling his tongue inside of you, brushing over the spot that has you seeing stars, he brings his free hand up to rub circles around your clit with his thumb, adding an extra layer of stimulation that causes your moans to fill the room.

You struggle to warn him when you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, when your toes curl in your socks and legs tremble as your orgasm hits with force.

You’re cumming on his face, and Chris happily laps up everything you’re giving him, tongue brushing at your spasming walls. He doesn’t let up until he’s sure you’ve ridden out the last tremors coursing through your body, and you feel him chuckle against your skin when he sees you losing balance.

He pulls back to look up at your face properly, keeping one hand gripped on your ass while the other holds your hips, keeping you upright. "You alright, baby?"

You nod your head as Chris stands up, and he leans in to kiss you, but a surprised noise fleets past his lips when he sees you drop to your knees. You can tell he panics a little, his hands reaching out to assist you, but he freezes mid air when he feels your own wrap around his cock, spitting down onto his tip to lubricate him.

You want to return the favour—you’re eager too, especially after the mind blowing orgasm he just gratefully gave you.

You give him a few slow pumps to start him off, hearing him groan above you, feeling his hand resting at the back of your head and guiding you closer to his cock. You take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his head, teasing his slit.

“Ah… fuck,” Chris moans, his lips parting as he watches you bob your head at a leisurely pace, taking him deeper and deeper with each pass. You swallow around him, contracting your throat, causing him to hiss and jerk his hips forward at the feeling.

You’re making a mess of him—drooling over his cock, gagging around him. Your eyes bubble with tears at the strain, and you moan when he rolls his hips against your face, fucking your throat gently.

When you look up at him, it’s the prettiest sight; his eyebrows pinched together in pleasure, mouth parted as he pants heavily, his eyes hazy.

Chris’ breath comes out in ragged gasps as you continue, seeing the way your lips stretch around his cock almost makes him lose it, the pleasure building up inside him like a tight coil about to snap, and deep grunts and groans escaping him now and then as you push him closer and closer to the edge.

"Shit," Chris’ voice comes out in a strangled whisper. "Please… d-don’t stop—fuck."

His free hand reaches out to grip the counter to ground himself and you close your eyes, pumping what you struggle to fit into your mouth as you continue to blow him, your other hand reaching up to fondle his balls, rolling them gently in your palm.

“Keep goin’... keep—fuck—keep lookin’ up at me,” Chris pleads, his breaths coming out heavy and laboured.

You do as you’re told, opening your eyes, looking up at him through sticky lashes to see him already looking down at you, and he shakily exhales as he loosens his grip on your head to push the hair out of his face.

He lets out a shuddering moan as he feels you use your tongue on the underside of his cock, his body arching even more towards your mouth as the sounds of slurping and moaning fill the room.

He suddenly speaks up in a shaky, pleading tone, his words coming out in desperate gasps. "Please… don’t stop… don’t—don’t stop… fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop… please—"

You moan at his pleading, and his hips twitch at the vibrations, his cock slipping back down your throat and making you gag around him again. You continue focussing on your breathing and relaxing your throat, listening to him whimper as his hand resumes gripping your head.

A low guttural moan escapes his lips as he stills, shooting warm, spurts of cum down your throat, and you swallow every drop before releasing him from your mouth with a pop, licking your lips clean as you look up at him with a smile.

He pants heavily as he stares down at you, hair tousled, face flushed—he looks like a wreck, and you’re proud knowing that you’ve done that to him. Although, the smug expression slips off your face as you squeal when he pushes you down onto your back, pushing between your thighs, hovering over you.

Chris palms at himself, jerking his cock back to life, and you spread your legs further apart to accept him inside greedily until you hear a car door slam from the garage.

Are they home already?

You and Chris stare at each other with wide eyes, filled with shock, desperation and need, before you both shoot up to stand on your own two feet, quickly adjusting your clothes to act as natural as you possibly can.

Chris is in the middle of stuffing his cock back into his sweats when Matt appears at the top of the stairs, swinging his car keys around his fingers, but immediately stopping when he looks at you both.

"I don’t want to know," Matt says, shaking his head with a grimace as he walks toward his room. "I really don’t."

# ( THURSDAY, DAY FOUR )

Maybe wearing a dress today wasn't the smartest idea—or maybe it was, depending on how you look at it.

The summer heat is relentless, the kind that clings to your skin and makes the air feel heavy even inside the house. The air conditioner is doing its best, but it's no match for the blazing sun streaming through the windows.

A short sundress seemed like the perfect solution at the time—light, breezy, comfortable—but now, as you lounge idly in the living room, sipping on a cold drink, you're starting to realise the consequences of your own actions.

Chris can't stop staring.

You're not even doing anything—just scrolling through your phone, your legs tucked up on the couch as you take slow sips of your drink, but even with your attention elsewhere you can feel his gaze.

It's subtle at first, little glances that linger a second too long on your exposed skin, but soon, it's impossible to ignore the way he gawks—his focus clearly not on the camera that's filming him and his brothers, nor is his focus on the conversation happening around him.

"Would you stop?!" Nick's voice cuts through, and you glance up just in time to see him swat Chris lightly on the back of the head. "Are you even paying attention right now? We're filming."

Chris blinks, wrinkling his nose as he huffs. "I am payin' attention—and don't hit me like that, I'll knock your fuckin' teeth out."

"Kid thinks he's tough," Matt chimes in, leaning against the counter with a smirk. "Or he's actin' tough in front of his girlfriend."

You pretend to be engrossed in your phone, but the corners of your lips twitch as you fight back a smile, hearing Chris mutter something under his breath—likely a string of curses and minor threats—but the teasing doesn't stop.

"Just focus," Nick says, fixing the items spread out on the table as they get ready to try and bake something. "You're just standing here like a fucking idiot not doing anything."

You glance back up from your phone, finally meeting his gaze, and he smiles at you softly, which you immediately return. You take another slow sip of your drink, deliberately holding eye contact for just a moment longer, stretching out your legs purposefully before looking away.

In the corner of your eye, you see Chris snort and shake his head, prodding his inner cheek with his tongue at your audacity as he awkwardly—but subtly—fixes the front of his jeans away from the camera and brothers.

It continues like that for a long while—Chris sneaking glances at you while trying to balance his focus on filming the video. You've caught him staring at least ten times now, and every time his eyes linger, you can't help but smirk to yourself.

But, to be honest, you're not making it easy for him either.

Stretching lazily on the couch once again, you let your sundress ride up, exposing more of your thighs as you scroll through your phone, pretending to keep yourself busy. You don't even need to look at him to know he's already looking at you, especially when you hear him stop mid-sentence as he talks to the camera, trailing his words.

You gnaw on your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing as you hear Matt scold him for not making sense, and you shift again, your dress hiking up just a little more as you lean over to reach for the glass on the coffee table, taking slow, deliberate sips, letting your throat bob before setting it down again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris glance over—his gaze zeroing in on the bare skin of your thighs, and this time, you make it known you're doing it on purpose.

You let your fingers trail lazily along the edge of your dress, smoothing the fabric over your legs, the movement subtle enough that it could be seen as innocent—if not for the slight head tilt and cheeky smile on your slips.

Chris shifts uncomfortably where he's standing, clearing his throat as he tries to regain focus. Luckily, his brothers are too busy arguing over the ingredients to notice him, but you catch the way his jaw tightens and his hand flexes at his side.

When Matt tells him to crack the eggs into the plastic bowl, Chris barely registers the request, his eyes flicking to you one more time before he steps forward, grabbing the bag of flour instead which makes Nick throw his hands up.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Nick shouts, exasperated.

You can't help but let out a quiet laugh at that, and Chris' head snaps toward you, his eyes narrowing. Yet, you shrug innocently, feigning ignorance as you pick up your drink again, but you're not done yet.

This time, you shift again, letting the small strap of your sundress slide off your shoulder. You don't bother fixing it right away, leaving your skin bare as you rest your head against the back of the couch, arching yourself in a way that you push your chest out, acting as if you're just trying to get comfortable.

Chris visibly falters.

"Chris," Matt snaps. "What is wrong with you?"

Nick follows Chris' gaze, his eyebrow raising as he looks between the two of you, and it takes him about two seconds to figure out what's going on. "Oh, it's you."

Chris shoots him a warning look. "Don't."

Matt looks confused for a second before the realisation hits, chuckling softly. "Can you two, like, stop for five minutes?"

You feel a little guilty for distracting him, but even as they continue filming, you can't help but not stop.

You cross your leg over the other, letting your dress ride up again as you trail your fingers along your collarbone absentmindedly, toying with the strap of your dress. Every little movement is obviously calculated, made to pull his attention away from filming and make him fumble.

By the time they wrap up filming, Chris looks like he's barely holding it together, and the moment they do the outro, Chris practically beelines over to you—his brothers' laughter fading into the background as he grabs your wrist and pulls you up to your feet.

"Come with me." he demands.

"Hm?" you reply, feigning innocence once again as he drags you toward the stairs, pulling you down them quickly. "What did I do?"

Chris doesn't answer, but the heat in his eyes says enough, and you're excited. He doesn't stop walking until you're both downstairs, and he pulls you into his bedroom and shuts the door firmly behind you—the click of the lock echoing in the quiet room, and you barely have a moment to register what's happening before he's on you.

His hands are on your waist as he backs you up toward the bed, his lips pressing to yours in a kiss that's full of heat and frustration.

"You think you're funny?" he mutters against your lips, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes with a teasing grin, your own voice breathless. "... maybe a little."

Chris huffs out a laugh that has an edge to it, and his hands slide down to the hem of your sundress, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he grips the fabric tightly. He lifts the dress higher, and the air feels cooler against your exposed skin, but the heat radiating from Chris' touch makes up for it.

His lips find your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin there, and you instinctively tilt your head to give him more access while his hands roam over you, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its path.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tangling in his hair as he works his way down your neck, his lips and teeth skimming your skin just enough to make your breath hitch.

"You've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy all day," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. "Sittin' there, lookin' so good... actin' like you didn't know what you were doin'."

You tug lightly on his hair, pulling his head back to meet his eyes. His eyes are dark, full of lust and need, and it makes your heart race and your pussy ache.

"Maybe I wanted to drive you crazy," you tease lightly. "I like seeing you like this."

Chris lets out a low moan, his hands tightening on your waist as he presses you down onto the bed, "Careful, baby," he warns you, though there's no real threat in his tone.

You grin, craning your head up to press your lips to his, cutting off whatever he was about to say next. The kiss is slower this time—deeper—but no less intense as his hands slide up your sides, brushing over the thin straps of your dress before slipping them off your shoulders.

The fabric falls easily, pooling around your waist and leaving your bare chest exposed to his hungry gaze. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaning down to lick and kiss at your breast, capturing your nipple between your teeth.

You mewl softly, arching your back into his touch, your grip tightening on his hair before letting go to tug at his shirt upward.

"Off," you plead weakly.

He doesn't hesitate, his lips leaving your skin to pull his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, allowing you to take a moment to appreciate the sight of him; his slightly toned chest, the way his muscles flex as he moves, the flushed look on his face.

Chris hovers over you, his weight balanced on his forearms as he gazes down at you, his lips parted slightly. The tension between you both feels intense, the air thick with anticipation as his thumb brushes gently over your cheek, a surprisingly tender gesture.

He leans down to nudge his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a kiss, more hurried and deep as his hands slide back down your sides, gripping your hips to pull you with him as he switches your positions for you to straddle him while he leans up against the headboard.

The fabric of your sundress is still bunched around your waist, and it doesn't surprise you that Chris keeps it on while he fingers hook beneath the waistband on your panties, awkwardly sliding them off your legs and throwing it aside.

Your bare cunt presses against the zipper of his jeans, and you moan softly, rolling your hips down onto him as he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for a moment.

As he presses a series of kisses down the column of your neck, your body reacts—your back arching as breathing hitching once again as his lips move lower, his hands exploring every inch of you.

You tilt your head back, your eyelids fluttering as you let yourself get lost in the moment, feeling his cock twitch beneath you.

"Chris..." you murmur his name softly, and it makes him pause, his head lifting up to meet your gaze with a hum in response. "I need you—need you inside."

Chris nods his head eagerly, patting your hip for you to raise up on your knees to give him space as he undoes the buckle on his jeans, shimmying the leather strap free. He works his jeans and boxers down to his thighs, not bothering to rid them completely, just enough to free his cock from the confinements.

It springs up, thick and hard, the flushed mushroom tip already glistening with pre-cum, eager to be tucked inside your warmth. His hands settle back on your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hip bones as he guides you to hover over his cock, the heat of your pussy making his chest rumble with a moan.

You grip the base of his cock, positioning properly at your opening, biting down on your bottom lip at the feeling of him nudging against your puffy folds. With a deep breath, you move, sinking down onto him, impaling yourself on his cock in one smooth motion, letting out a choked gasp as he fills you.

A guttural noise rips from the back of Chris' throat as your inner walls grip around him tightly, his fingers digging into the meaty skin of your hips as he fights the urge to thrust up and burying himself balls deep.

His gaze drifts lower, fisting the hem of your dress to lift it up, fixating on where you're both join—mouth drying up at the obscene sight of his cock disappearing between your folds, wet and glistening with arousal.

You start to move, slowly at first, rolling your hips in a circle to adjust to the size of him, feeling him stretch your inner walls to fit him in snugly. Then, you begin to rise and fall, picking up speed as you get into a steady rhythm, his name falling from your lips repeatedly like a prayer.

You grip his shoulders for balance, helping you bounce up and down as Chris' hands slide up your back, pulling you close to kiss you. His tongue slips into your mouth, devouring the sounds of your whimpers and moans, feeling the way you easily glide up and down his cock.

He breaks the kiss only to nip and suck at your jawline, working his way down your neck where he could gently bite down on your pulse point, and you let out a broken sound, your movements stuttering.

"ah, fuck... jus' like that" he urges, rolling his hips upward to meet your uneven bounces. "take what you need, baby. use my cock—fuuuuck."

You increase the pace, sliding your arms around his shoulders to hold him as you bounce faster on Chris' lap, your gummy walls clenching him tightly.

You lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath coming in short gasps, drool seeping from the corner of your lips as you whine, "F-feels good—hng—I can't, I can't, I can't—"

He wraps his arms around your, crushing your breasts against his chest as he meets your frenzied pace, feeling your pussy fluttering wildly around his cock that pistons deep within, the gushy and wet sounds of your actions filling the air.

It pushes him closer toward the brink and he whines, "Shit, baby.. y'gonna make me cum."

A loud cry escapes your lips as your nails dig into Chris' shoulders, "Oh god—oh fuck! I'm—fuck! M'cumming!" you squeal loudly, your pussy spasming violently around Chris' cock, the contractions sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your vision blurs, your mind going blank as you ride through your orgasm, your juices dripping around his cock while he slams up into you one final time, burying himself balls deep as he pulses and throbs, shooting hot spurts of cum inside your cunt.

His hips jerk erratically, grinding against your pussy as he empties himself, panting heavily against your skin as he feels your spongy walls squeeze around him rhythmically, milking every last drop of his cum.

Finally, with a shuddering sigh, Chris slumps back against the headboard while you collapse weakly on his chest, keeping yourself glued on his softening cock as cum spills from the overflowed hole, creating a sticky mess between your thighs.

You nuzzle your face in the crevice of his neck, seeking warmth and comfort as your thighs ache, barely able to support your weight. You feel drained, but pleased, your eyes glossy and unfocussed as Chris slowly slips himself free of your heat, leaving behind a trail of cum gushing out.

He shifts slightly, adjusting you both so you can rest comfortably on top of him, your head still nestled in the crevice of his neck as his hand gently strokes your back, pressing tender kisses to your sweaty temple.

# ( FRIDAY, DAY FIVE )

You're sprawled out in Chris' bed, the soft glow of your laptop screen illuminating the dark room as you watch an episode of your favourite comfort show you've seen a dozen times before. It's been a quiet, lazy afternoon, and you're perfectly content to stay holed up while the triplets are out.

But the sudden and heavy thud of the front door slamming open makes you sit up a little straighter.

The sound is followed by raised voices—angry and heated. You can't make out exactly what they're saying, but it's loud enough to echo through the entire house, and you're quick to pause your show, your attention now fully on the commotion.

Straining to listen, you pick up small bits and pieces of the argument.

"Are you fuckin' serious?" That's Matt's voice, clear and booming, carrying up the stairs.

"Yeah, I'm serious, kid. What's your problem?" Chris snaps back.

"My problem? My problem is that you're a fuckin' immature—"

"Please, for the love of god," Nick's voice cuts in, exasperated and annoyed, but not nearly as loud as the other two. "Shut the fuck up."

There's a loud crash—something slamming against a wall, maybe another door—and you flinch, your curiosity now fully piqued. What could they possibly be fighting about? It's not really unusual for them to argue, but this sounds... a little different.

However, you stay put, resisting the urge to go upstairs into the living-room to see what's happening. You just sit there, ears tuned to the muffled shouting as it continues to escalate. Chris' voice is the loudest while Matt's is angrier, more forceful. Nick seems to be playing the role of the mediator, trying (and miserably failing) to calm them both down.

After a few more minutes, the argument seems to abruptly cut off, leaving the house in complete silence—apart from the faint hum of the air conditioner and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

You barely have time to decide if you want to continue staying put or go out and see them before the door to Chris' room swings open with enough force to make it bounce slightly off the wall.

He storms in, his face a mix of frustration and anger, his jaw tight and eyes blown wide. He's still breathing heavily, like he's just come from a full-on shouting match, and he looks like he's barely holding it together.

He stops in the doorway, his eyes locking on you as you sit up against the pillows, wide-eyed and a little startled by his sudden entrance.

"Chris...?" you say cautiously, sitting up straighter. "What's going on?"

He remains silent for a moment, taking a deep breath as he steps further into the room, his hands clenching into fists at his sides before unclenching, shaking the tension in his fingers.

"Get up."

You blink, confused by his sudden demand. "What? What? What happened?"

Chris doesn't elaborate further as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you up from the bed with more force than you were expecting. "We're goin'."

"Going where?" you ask, stumbling as you try to keep up with his strides as he leads you toward the door. "Chris, what the fuck is going on?"

He doesn't stop, his grip firm on your wrist as he pulls you out of his room and toward the garage door, his thumb idly stroking your skin.

"We're goin' to have sex in Matt's car." he says matter-of-factly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

You stop dead in your tracks, forcing him to pause outside the garage door and turn back to you. "I'm sorry—what did you just say?"

Chris exhales deeply, "You heard me. Matt pissed me off, 'n I'm gettin' back at him."

You blink at him again, your brain struggling to catch up. "By... having sex... in his car?"

Chris nods. "Yes."

"Chris, that's... that's insane," you say, though you can't help the small laugh that escapes you. "You're not, like, actually serious.. are you?"

His eyes narrow, deadpanning. "I'm serious."

You're still baffled, but the sheer determination in his expression—and the way he's already pushing open the garage door—tells you that he's not joking at all.

Part of your wants to argue, to tell him this is fucking ridiculous and unnecessary. But the other part of you—the part that loves his impulsive and chaotic side—can't help but find the whole thing intriguing.

"Okay, you're officially insane," you mutter, finally giving in as you follow behind him, allowing him to lead you toward Matt's car.

Chris glances back at you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he unlocks the car door, "Yeah," he hums, his tone lighter now. "But you love it."

Well... he's not wrong.

He pulls open the door and guides you into the back seat, and you glance around a little nervously as Chris climbs in after you, shutting the door behind himself. He turns to face you, his eyes burning with intensity in the dim light of the garage filtering through the tinted windows of the car.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to do this," he admits to you as he touches your hips, helping you manoeuvre onto your hands and knees in the limited space. He cups your ass, giving the covered skin a firm squeeze as he hums. "Havin' you bent over in the backseat, your pretty ass on display f'me to fuck. Thought it would be in my own car, but uh... Matt just had to piss me the fuck off."

You gasp when his hand comes down with a sharp slap, making your body jolt forward at the force and you reach out, steadying yourself with your own hand braced against the door.

"C-Chris—"

"We don't have much time," he reminds you, licking at his lips as he makes quick work of pulling down your sleep shorts, and Chris can't resist giving your ass another smack, watching the flesh jiggle enticingly. "Shiiit, look how we you are."

His fingers caress through your slick folds, dipping in between to stroke your slit with a satisfied hum, watching as you quiver beneath him in anticipation. He pulls his cock out of his sweats with practiced ease, slapping the tip against your puffy folds a few times before he pushes himself in, causing you to grip the seats hard, nails scratching at the fabric.

You push back against him greedily, seeking more friction and pressure as he slides in and out easily, keeping a steady rhythm before he picks up speed, his balls slapping against your clit.

The combination of having sex in Matt's car, stuck in the confined space, and feeling Chris' body over your sends you spiralling. You're aware of how exposed and vulnerable you are right now, how easy it is for you to get caught in this position—or even heard.

Plus, there's no barrier between your skin and the car, and you can feel your arousal dripping onto the seats below you, and how your heavy breathing fogs up the windows of the car.

Your other hand dips between your legs to cup yourself, your fingers grazing over Chris' cock that bullies your cervix, trying your hardest not to create a mess on the seats.

"Move your hand," Chris demands with a grip, his grip tightening on your hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the limited space. "M'serious. Move it."

"But.. but—"

"Don't give a fuck if you make his car messy, baby. Ruin the seats for all I care—Move. Your. Hand."

Chris' words are punctuated by each deep and harsh thrust, the lewd squelching of his cock plunging in and out of your soaked pussy, but suddenly, he pulls almost all the way out, only the tip remaining nestled inside.

You whine at the withdrawal, your body instinctively reaching back for him, craving the fullness of his cock he provided seconds ago. You risk glancing over your shoulder, gnawing on your bottom lip, your heart racing from the immense pleasure and the risk of being discovered in such a compromising position.

Chris traces a finger along your spine, his eyebrow raised in expectation, his gaze darting down to your cunt before meeting your eyes again.

He's waiting for you to remove your hand.

He wants you to make a mess in Matt's car.

The thought of it makes you moan quietly, and your hand drops back to the seat, only for it to be replaced with his own hand as it snakes around to touch your sensitive clit, causing you to release a high-pitched whimper.

Pleased with your reaction, Chris continues to rub circles while pushing his cock back inside, pressing himself fully against you before his hips snap against yours, the car rocking with the force.

You let out a choked gasp, your mouth stuck forming the perfect 'o' shape at the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit and his cock fucking your cunt. You struggle to hold yourself up by your arms, and you give out, slumping face first into the seats, drooling on the material without a care in the world.

"There we go, thaaaat's it," Chris coos, using his other hand that's not on your clit to stroke your back. "Make a fuckin' mess on the seats, baby. Gooood girl."

His balls continue to slap against your raw skin with every erratic pump of his hips, the obscene sounds mingling with your muffled whimpers and his grunts. Your body's buzzing, and your tummy tightens into knots, and you can feel the pressure building more and more—but you can't warn him, you can't find your words.

It comes faster than you anticipated, your pussy convulsing around him rapidly before squirting your release all over his cock, the wetness and the force causing him to slip out of you completely with a lewd pop.

Your body shakes, mouth agape in a silent scream, vaguely aware of the liquid gushing out onto the car seats as your walls clench and unclench repeatedly, the mess dripping down your already soaked thighs.

"Shit..." Chris stares in awe at the sight of your pussy, still twitching and releasing drops of liquid, pooling beneath you both.

His cock stands against his stomach, covered in your arousal, glistening under the dimmed light, and he reaches down to stroke himself, using the sight alone to get him off—panting heavily as he leans over you to cum all over your ass in quick spurts, watching himself create an even bigger mess.

"You good, baby?" Chris asks softly after a moment, leaning in further to get a closer look at you, pushing the hair out of your sweaty face with a tender touch.

You nod your head weakly, your mouth dry and throat coarse, and you wince as he takes a hold of your upper arm to sit you up, curling his other arm around your waist to keep you upright.

"We... we can't leave this mess here," you whisper, grimacing at the stains all over the seats, knowing you'll have to deep clean the fuck out of Matt's car before he figures out what has happened. Chris goes to protest, but you're already speaking up again. "What were you even arguing about?"

Chris purses his lips, scratching the back of his neck as he murmuringly admits. "He dropped my burger so I poured ketchup all over his."

Your head slowly turns to face him, almost comically, your face straight, unamused that the whole argument—the loudness, the slamming of doors, and the payback—was all because of something so mundane.

"Are you fucking serious?"

# ( SATURDAY, DAY SIX )

You're curled up comfortably on your couch, still in your pyjamas, a mug of coffee sitting half-empty on the table in front of you while a notebook filled with to-do lists sits in your hand, planning out your ultimate relaxing day.

Today is all about you.

You've planned out every moment; a long and relaxing bubble bath with your favourite scented candles, a little online shopping, making trying out a new dessert recipe you saw on Tiktok.

No interruptions.

No obligations.

Just peace and quiet.

The thought alone makes you grin as you lean back against the couch, pen in hand, tapping it against your notebook rhythmically as you finalise the perfect plan.

Until you hear the knock at your front door.

Your brow furrows slightly. You weren't expecting anyone, and your friends usually text you first to let them know they're coming over. You assume maybe it's a neighbour or even a delivery you're forgotten about, and you get up to shuffle to the door, pulling it open without much thought.

And there he is.

Chris stands on the other side, grinning widely, dressed casually in a oversized hoodie and sweatpants. He holds a cup of what look suspiciously like iced coffee—your favourite kind, and in the other, he holds a square-shaped calendar.

"Mornin' baby," he says, holding up the calendar and tapping it with his finger. "Guess what day it is."

You stare at him, confused. "What..? What are you—"

And then it hits you.

Oh fuck.

You completely forgot about the seven days challenge for a moment—so focussed on wanting to have a you day that it slipped your mind entirely.

"You forgot, didn't you?" he teases, his grin widening. "How can you forget? My dick not doin' it anymore for you?" he pauses, recalling the words he just said, the grin slipping. "Don't answer that. I'll die. I'm serious."

"I didn't forget, okay? I just..." you trail off, scrambling to find the best word to explain, though you know there's no excuse to save you now.

"Uh-huh, right," he hums, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he steps past you into the house, walking over to set the calendar and coffee down on your kitchen counter. "Good thing I remembered though. Otherwise we'd be missing out on day six, 'n that would be tragic."

You close the front door behind you, dragging your feet to follow him into the kitchen with your arms crossed over your chest, pouting. "But I had plans today..."

"Plans?" he turns to you, raising a brow. "Like what?"

You gesture vaguely toward the living room. "Like relaxing, watching my favourite show, maybe bake a cake or something."

Chris blinks at you, his face deadpan for a moment before he breaks into a slow smirk. "Wow. Amazing. You thought all that is better than having sex with me?"

Your jaw drops, and you glare at him. "Chris."

He smirks wider, completely unfazed by your warning tone as he jabs his finger repeatedly at today's date on the calendar, the sound of his finger tapping the paper. "We're supposed to complete the week, ma. C'mon... look what I have planned."

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering down at the calendar. Your eyes land on the scribbled word beneath today's date, and you immediately jerk back, your eyes wide.

"No. Nope. Absolutely not." you say, shaking your head so fast it's a miracle it doesn't fall off.

Chris tilts his head, "Why not?"

"Because!" you exclaim, pointing at the calendar like it's personally offended you. "You are not doing that to me, Chris!"

"Why not?" Chris repeats with a dramatic whine, stepping closer to you, his arms circling around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest.

You can’t stop the incredulous laugh that escapes past your lips, even as your arms instinctively slip around his shoulders for your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, twirling the soft curls there, and his own hands tighten on your hips.

"You're not putting it in my ass."

"I honestly think it'll be fun."

"For you, maybe." you shoot back, trying your best to sound firm, but the way his fingers are kneading your hips is making it harder for you to stay serious.

Chris' grin only widens at your reaction, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leans in close, his nose brushing against yours. "C'mon... you might like it, y'know?"

You groan softly, your head falling forward to rest against his shoulder as you mutter, "I can't believe I'm even entertaining this conversation right now."

His arms tighten around your waist as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "You're laughin' and smilin', baby... think you're already halfway convinced."

You pull back slightly to glare at him, though the playful glint in your eyes makes it obvious you're not really mad, or fully against the idea. "I'm not convinced... there's just no way I'm letting you put your dick in my ass."

Chris wiggles his eyebrows at you, "You say that now, but give it time, baby. I've got my ways."

And he does, he always does.

Because right now, you're sprawled out across your bed, skin bare, knees pressed to your chest as Chris' mouth latches onto your pussy, tongue swirling and lips suckling around your clit while his two fingers work inside your ass—covered in copious amounts of lube for a more easy access.

You take a shaky breath, wincing at the initial stretch of something foreign being inside you back there, but as he continues to apply gentle pressure along with the tender licks of his tongue on your cunt, you begin to slowly relax—your body yielding to his touch.

Chris watches your expression closely from below, taking notice of the subtle shift from discomfort to relaxation as he smiles against your folds, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your slit as he continues to stroke your inner walls with his fingers, maintaining such a steady pace that it has your toes curling.

Chris slowly withdraws his finger before gently pushing it back in, sinking it deeper this time, and your back arches with a quiet whine, gripping the sheets as he keeps his movements slow and controlled.

"I... I..." you speak breathlessly, unable to find your words as his free hand wanders up your torso to massage your breast, rolling the pebbled nipple to help distract you from any lingering discomfort, and it works.

Your eyelids flutter shut, lost in the stimulation of his probing fingers and delicate thumbing of your nipple, surprised to find yourself actually enjoying this new experience—the slight burn of stretching giving way to the growing warmth in your belly.

When he believes you're ready, he removes his fingers from your ass, causing you to whine a little from the loss of contact. You watch through hooded-lids as he positions himself, grabbing his cock to line it up with your prepared hole, making you shiver and tense up when you feel him lightly press to your opening.

"Just relax," he reminds you, using his other hand to caress your thigh lovingly, sending you a warm smile. "Take a breath, you'll be okay. I got you."

You give him an affirmative nod, taking a deep breath in as he pushes his hips forward, the head of his cock breaching your tight ring, pausing every so often to allow you to adjust to his side.

You cry out sharply his cock stretching you open, your muscles clenching reflexively around him, and the pain makes you seize up, your hands flying out to grasp his arms—pinching the skin with your nails on accident, but he doesn't seem to mind as he focuses more on you than himself.

The tears bubble at the corner of your eyes from the burn of being stretched much significantly larger than his fingers, and your teeth gnaw down on your bottom lip harshly to stifle the whimpers that threaten to spill.

"It's okay, it's okay," Chris coos softly, "Just breathe, mama. You're doin' so well already."

He knows it's a lot to take in, but he can't help but feel so satisfied at finally claiming you this way—marvelling at the tightness and the warm embrace around his cock.

He rubs your thighs tenderly, holding still for a moment, allowing you to get used to the feeling of being so filled from a different way. Then, slowly, he begins to withdraw, only to push back in carefully, repeating his shallow motions as he leans his body over yours, his breath fanning across your face before claiming your lips.

You struggle to reciprocate at first, but eventually, you return the kiss, your tongue sliding into his mouth as the pain ebbs away, replaced by a strange tingly warmth that spreads through your lower half—body adjusting to the constant pressure of his cock moving within you.

A soft, strangled moan escapes your throat as you feel him hit a particularly sensitive spot, and your grip loosens on his arms to bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting heavily against his skin.

"There... there we go," Chris praises, his lips trailing kisses along your jawline as he picks up the pace, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm as he sinks deeper with each thrust. He can already feel the heat building within him, his balls drawing up tight to cum.

His hips continue to roll, grinding his pelvis against your ass to stimulate that sensitive spot again, and he grins when he hears your sharp gasp, your teeth grazing over the juncture of his neck.

"Fuck, you feel so good—oh my god—"

You shiver under Chris' words, your face warming with a mix of embarrassment and pride. You try to meet his thrusts with your own, pushing your hips up to take him deeper, only for a desperate whine to bubble from your lips as the tip of his cock brushes against the spot inside you again and again, sending sparks shooting down your spine.

"I... I think... I think I'm close," you pant out, your voice trembling as your toes curl. "Please.. please.."

"Yeah?" Chris hums, his grip on your hips tightening as he increases the speed of his thrusts a little, staring down at you with wild eyes, lips parted as he breathes heavily. "Let me feel you cum on my cock, baby—c'mon."

He urges you, angling his hips, pressing deeper to push you over the edge as the pressure coils tighter in his balls, desperate to fill you up—but he holds himself back with has much willpower as he can muster, focused on making you cum first.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon—" he repeats his words, pumping his hips, his balls slapping against your cheeks as he drills you into the bed, his moans blending in with your high-pitched moans.

Your vision whites out, and you see flecks behind your closed lids as an orgasm rips through you, clenching around his cock tightly. You can barely form any coherent thoughts, too overwhelmed by the intensity that you don't feel him pulsing inside of you, his cock filling you up as he reaches his own release.

You're lost in the aftershocks, gasping for air as you try to process what just happened, but when reality starts to filter back in, you look up at Chris with hazy eyes, a dazed smile playing on your lips.

Chris leans down to press a kiss to your damp forehead, his breath warm against your skin as he breathes heavily, carefully pulling out of you and rolling onto his side, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"You okay?" you hear him ask you quietly, breaking the comfortable silence between your both as his arm wraps around you, pulling you close to his chest.

You nod against him, your cheek pressed to his bare skin as his fingers begin tracing lazy, soothing patterns down your spine, the motion calming you—taking your mind off the dull ache that lingers down below.

"I'm fine," you murmur, draping your arm across his middle to hold him close, smiling tiredly when he presses another kiss to the top of your head before resting his chin lightly against you.

Silence settles between you both once again, just relaxing in each other’s embrace, listening to the sounds of the outside world until Chris decides to break it;

“I hope you know we’re doin’ that again... and again, and again, and—”

# ( SUNDAY, DAY SEVEN, FINAL )

You can't believe you've made it to Sunday—the end of the week.

Fucking Chris for six—almost seven—days straight has been taxing on your body; every muscle aches, your limbs heavy with exhaustion, and you're a little sore between your legs.

You're drained, sure, but as you lay in bed, reflecting on the past several days, you can't help but feel a warmth bloom in your chest.

Despite the ache, despite the exhaustion, it's been... really good. The past week wasn't unusual for your relationship. You and Chris have always been sexually active, but this week felt so different.

Being with him so frequently, so intensely, has unlocked a new kind of closeness between you—one that you hadn't even realised was missing.

It wasn't just about the physicality, no, there was plenty of that. It was the way he looked at you through it all, his gaze filled with love and appreciation. It was the way he touched you, firm but gentle in the moments when you needed him to be. It was the way he listened to you and spoke to you, how every word carved deep into your soul, leaving a mark behind.

You've always been comfortable with Chris, but this week, it felt like both of you had peeled back another layer to expose parts of yourself you've never shared before. You saw new sides of him, and in turn, you felt open and comfortable enough to show more of yourself in ways you'd never thought you would.

It reminded you why you love him in the first place: the way he makes you feel so seen, heard, loved, and wanted.

You're pulled from your thoughts when Chris enters you room, a box in hand and a silly, crooked smile stretched across his lips. He nudges the door closed with his foot before making his way over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing the box down on the sheets in front of you.

You raise your eyebrow in curiosity, your gaze darting down to the mysterious box before back at him, "What is it?"

He leans back on one hand, the other gesturing toward the box. "Open it."

You purse your lips sceptically before reaching out, your fingertips grazing the edges of the cardboard box as you slowly pop open the lid, leaning forward to peek inside.

What you see nearly pulls a laugh from your throat—a snort threatening to escape as you hold your hand over your mouth. Inside sits a cake, weakly decorated and messy, the frosting smeared unevenly across the surface in bright splashes of blue and green.

Red icing hearts dot the edges, lopsided and wobbly, and in the middle, written in shaky (and barely legible) icing letters, are the words: 'YOU DID IT. CONGRATS ON FUCKING ME FOR SEVEN DAYS. I ♡ YOU'.

You're stuck in silence, your hand still covering your mouth as you try to stifle the grin tugging at your lips before finally letting out a laugh.

"You're so stupid..." you murmur affectionately.

Chris' grin only grows wider at that, "I think it's romantic."

"Romantic?" you tease, "You call this romantic?"

"Me workin' my ass off in the kitchen to make this shit f'you while you lay in bed? Yeah, I think it's romantic," he says, his eyes glimmering as he points to the cake. "D'you know how hard it is to write with icing? I almost threw the fuckin' thing."

You giggle softly as you look down at the cake. The thing is, it's perfect. Not in the traditional sense due to it being so lopsided and messy, and the fact it looks like it was made by a five-year-old—but it's perfect because it's from him.

The thought, the effort, the way he wanted to celebrate this silly little challenge—it makes your heart ache.

Your fingers brush lightly over the edge of the box once again as you glance up at Chris, "You really did this?"

Chris' grin fades, replaced by a softer smile as he rests his hand on top of yours, "'Course I did," he brushes his thumb over your knuckles. "You deserve it, y'know? Been puttin' up with me 'n my dick all week, wanted to do somethin' special for you. Even if it's ugly."

"It's not ugly," you rebuke quickly, but Chris raises an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look that makes you falter. You take one glance at the cake again, pressing your lips together before finally relenting. "Okay, maybe it's a little ugly."

The pair of you laugh, and you push yourself up on your knees to lean over the box, cupping his face between your palms to bring him in for a sweet kiss. Chris responds instantly, his lips meeting yours, his fingers curling around your hips to steady you as you lean into him.

The kiss deepens, his mouth moving against yours, and you can feel the smile tugging at the corner of his lips which brings out your own smile too, your fingers sliding up into his hair as you tilt your head to the side.

"Wait," he mumbles against your lips, voice muffled and breathless, and you pull back to meet his gaze, confused. "I know it's ugly, but we don't need to crush the cake, baby."

Oh.

You look down at the box still sitting between you both, your clothes almost touching the icing around the edges and you pull your hands from his hair to press against his chest, pushing him back slightly.

Chris picks up the box carefully with a soft laugh, placing it down on the nightstand—keeping it far away from the two of you. The second he turns back to you, his hands are on you again, pulling you closer for his lips to find yours.

The kiss is deeper now, slow and deliberate, as his hands slide up your waist, holding onto you as yours fist the fabric of his shirt, your knees brushing against his as you melt into him.

His arm hooks around your middle, lifting you up a little only to lay you back against the bed, sprawling you under him. You expected him to kiss you again, to leave you feeling breathless, but you're surprised when all he does is caress your face softly, stroking your cheek and trace the outline of your bottom lip with his thumb.

He's staring down at you so lovingly that you grow flustered, looking elsewhere around the room until he cups your chin to bring your attention back to him, leaning down to reconnect your lips.

Chris is the first to take off his shirt, fisting at the material and pulling it over his shoulders, discarding it to the floor to help you take off yours before his lips attach to your chest—leaving light, feathery kisses over your skin, and you arch your back with a quiet gasp, watching as he trails over your breasts and down your stomach.

He hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs slowly as he kisses down your legs, and you squirm at the cold air that hits your pussy—knees knocking against his side but he pays no mind as he decides to lay between your legs.

The sight of him staring at you from his position builds the arousal in the pit of your belly, and you lift your hips to coax him into touching you—tasting you—and you clench around nothing when he leans in to press another kiss to your inner thighs.

Without warning, you feel his tongue slowly lap your slit, the tip of the wet muscle wiggling between your folds before flicking over your clit slowly, and you hum, threading your fingers through his hair.

Chris moans into your pussy as he messily slurps you up, sucking on your clit with the right amount of suction, causing a cry to tumble past your lips as you instinctively roll your hips against his face, seeking more friction.

Chris takes it upon himself to hook one hand beneath your knee to push it up at an angle that helps bury his face further between your legs, mouthing at all the right places.

You tilt your head back with a moan, unable to control the pitch of your sounds as your orgasm builds up quicker than usual, the band in the tummy tightening as your pussy clenches around the tip of his tongue that dips inside of you—the pressure and pleasuring becoming too much for you to handle that the band snaps, cumming heavy on his tongue.

"Good job, baby." Chris praises you, lapping you up eagerly as he helps ride out your orgasm, smiling against your pussy when he feels your thighs twitch.

You struggle to catch your breath, dry panting as you jerk your hips away from his mouth, and his chest vibrates with a laugh, letting go of the back of your knee to watch it drop limp on the bed.

You taste yourself when he crawls up your body to kiss your lips, and you suck on his tongue to which he responds by rutting his hips into yours, his covered cock pressing against you.

"Take them off," you whisper into the kiss, your hands tugging at his sweats. "Please, take them off."

Chris doesn't verbally respond to you as his tongue slides into your mouth, but his own hands move toward his sweats, pulling at the drawstring to untie it before shoving them down his legs along with his boxers.

You move your hand between your bodies to wrap your fingers around his cock, causing him to moan between kisses as you pump him leisurely, your head spinning with the way he pants against your mouth—mouth agape as his breathing gets heavier and heavier with each tug of your hand.

Eventually, you guide him to your opening, coating his cock with your arousal and his saliva as you slide the tip through your folds. Chris deeply exhales, pulling his lips from yours to look down, watching you position his tip at your awaiting hole, angling his hips forward to help push inside.

Your body welcomes him immediately, and Chris coos, taking your hand in his own to give it a few squeezes as you both watch where you're connected—watching him sink deeper into you bit by bit, rolling his hips to thrust slowly, allowing your legs to wind around his waist to pull him in closer.

He kisses you once again, pouring his love and devotion into it as he brings your interlocked hands above your head, pressing them into the pillow as he gets comfortable above you.

Each gentle and slow roll of his hips has you seeing stars behind your closed lids, listening to the way Chris moans and groans every time he bottoms out inside you, and your gummy walls clench around him in return.

Your grip on his hand tightens when you break the kiss to allow yourself to breathe in fresh air, struggling for oxygen, staring up at him in bliss to see the slightly fuzzy outline of him smiling down at you—his own eyelid fluttering with every roll of his hips.

But he buries his face into the crevice of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your skin as the pace of his thrusts start to quicken, the wet noises of your pussy sucking in his cock fills the room along with your shameless noises of pleasure, and your free hand reaches up to grab the back of his head, threading your fingers through the roots as you nip at his shoulders.

"F-Fuck I love you," he whimpers, his teeth grazing over your skin as he splutters repeatedly. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I—"

Your hand tightens around his own as his words of affection tip you over the edge completely, whining as your legs tremble around his hips as you cum all over his cock. The feeling of your walls gripping him like a vice triggers his own climax and he’s moaning into your neck, releasing with long spurts that paint your insides and you gasp at the feeling of him filling you up, the warmth spreading.

He stays above you for quite some time, basking in each other's presence and collecting your breath, staring at one another with giddy smiles which causes you both to laugh as he pulls out with a wince before laying back over you comfortably.

"I really fuckin' love you... y'know that, right?" Chris whispers softly to you, removing his hand from yours to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone tenderly.

A small, tired, but lovingly smile graces your lips as you let out a content sigh, your own voice barely above a whisper as you reply back to him. "I know... and I really fucking love you too."

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