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soaps-hoe-141 · 1 year ago

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They're Fraternizing Your Honor

@foreverrunningfree Yall can thank them for this one. They bribed me and so here we are... Enjoy!!! (It's gonna be absolutely filthy so just a fair warning before we even get to the warnings)

Ever feel like a mad scientist before you drop a chapter? Cause that's me right now about to press the button to send the masses scattering.

Pairing: Konig x Soap x Ghost x Transmasc!OC (OC is Watcher there is lore pinned in my master list)

WC: 11k

Synopsis: Foursome between the gayest lil military men, it's filthy and it is all smut. No plot, not a single bit, enjoy.

Warnings: All smut, NSFW, filthy, minors DNI

Their lips pressed hard together, Ghost's hands holding on to the thin waist in front of him. He pulled the hips flush to his own, rocking into him with a quick smile before he flicked his eyes up. Hazel stared at the other men behind the mask that was still halfway covering his face. Fingers found his shoulders then, working the muscles from behind while they watched the other two men quietly. His mouth pulled away and the other Scot's mouth moved to the thick neck and kissed lightly against the pale and scarred skin. "You like this Johnny? Make you feel good watching him?" Soap nodded slowly, head tilting to the side as strong fingers moved up his neck. His own hips pressed backwards, his body coming flush against the strong chest behind him.

It wasn't as wide as Ghost's, more lean and less give but not an unpleasant feeling. Especially when it was accompanied with the hardening length against the small of his back hidden only by the thick fabric of pants. His teeth drug over the bottom of his lip, before he reached up and grabbed Konig by the back of his neck before pulling his head down to his mouth. Their lips met hungrily, teeth hitting together as he turned in the long arms. He took control of their urgency, tongue slipping past Konig's lips with a smirk when he heard the tall man's soft little moans. Eyes burned into his back before he felt a hand on his shoulder turning him around and away from Konig's mouth. Watcher was staring at his partner and Soap hungrily, enjoying the sight just as much as Soap had been a few seconds ago.

Ghost's fingers held his jaw steady, his burning gaze on azure hues before he leaned closer, whispering against Soap's mouth, "Don't forget you're mine." Lips pressed gently against his own, a light tease at first, before teeth were biting into the plush flesh for just a moment. Full of possession and need that was tempered only by the ginger Scot who was still nibbling along the length of the thick neck bared now before him. Scarred and tattooed and shining perfectly in the gleam of the light, his hard muscles tensing every time the lips teased over his flesh.

A quiet groan fell from the Scotsman before he flashed a grin up at the big man, "Never m’eudail." The hand holding Soap’s face fell away and Konig's mouth found his shoulder as he traced the scar there, hands wrapping around to lay flat against his bare stomach to pull him flush to his own bare torso once more. Dark hairs littered the Scot’s belly, dipping below the waistband of his jeans in a clear pathway to the treasure that laid below. Both him and the Austrian were content with enjoying the sight of Watcher and Ghost tasting one another's mouths. Their hands steadily explored one another while Konig grinded forward against his backside, warm breath was blowing over his bare skin as the outline of his hardening cock pressed against thick fabric.

Konig’s fingers edged lower along the dark haired Scot’s stomach as Watcher’s moved around to Ghost’s back and followed the same downward trajectory. His hands slipped below the waistband of Ghost’s jeans and underwear, grabbing himself a handful of the plump ass that awaited him beneath, all the while earning a smirk from the big man. Soap groaned when he felt a large hand cupping his own hardening member, leaning his head back against Konig’s bare chest and closing his eyes. He felt a gaze burning his skin for just a moment before the bed creaked under someone’s weight. Azure hues opened quickly and watched as Ghost knelt down in front of Watcher, his large hands working at the young Scot’s belt with a hurried determination.

That had the Scotsman’s hips rolling forward into the friction of the palm cupping him before Soap was grabbing him by the arm and pulling Konig towards the bed, only to gesture with a jerk of his chin towards it before they had reached their destination. The tall man raised an eyebrow at him curiously before sinking down to sit on the bed beside Watcher, "Soap?" The curiosity was answered nearly immediately as Soap's fingers worked at his own jeans. He popped the button easily, shoving the fabric over the swell of his ass before fishing out his throbbing length.

When he heard Watcher groan, his azure hues looked over at the Lieutenant on his knees with his tongue delving into the wet depths between the other Scot's legs. Watching his barely uncovered nose disappear into the short ginger curls and nudge hard at the bundle of nerves that he knew was hidden there. The dark haired Scot was so entranced by the sight of Ghost eating the younger man out it caught him by surprise when he felt a large hand wrap around his own length, his eyes flicking back to Konig who had a small smirk on his face. "Fuck your hands are big, Konig." His eyes shut for a short moment, teeth grazing over his bottom lip as the callused skin ran down his length slowly.

A quick comment rose from the parted lips of the other Scot as he answered, "Not the only thing that's big, Soap." That earned a quiet chuckle from Soap and a hum of appreciation from Ghost who was still putting in work with his mouth. A loud moan erupted from the ginger as his hips bucked into the open mouth, the vibration of Ghost’s hum sending shockwaves through the smaller man’s body. It took him a second to regain his thoughts before he took a breath and said, "Show him a good time, aye Konig?" The blue eyes caught Konig's green, Watcher glancing at the hand slowly running the length of Soap's cock with a breathy sigh.

"With pleasure little Newt," the Austrian answered and then he leaned down to press a light kiss to Watcher’s pretty lips. Fuck, Soap could imagine those wrapped around his cock just as easily as he could remember when Ghost's had been there before. When Konig sat back up though it quickly became a reality, his lips wrapping around him as he groaned aloud at the feeling. The wet heat surrounding his throbbing cock was driving him nearly to madness already as the tongue slid over his length as he went. Relief flooded through him though after a few seconds of finally being inside of something.

Ghost was hard at work just as well. One hand sliding over the expanse of the ginger’s torso. His fingernails grazed over the toned stomach before they continued up and traced one of the vines as he went. All the way up until his hand stalled at the other’s collarbone, his tongue licking a stripe up the other man’s drooling entrance until the tip of his tongue flicked over the man’s clit. There was a quiet hum of approval at the action which earned him another flick of the tongue, the hum growing a bit in volume as Ghost continued until Watcher was starting to pant into the air. His orgasm was growing closer and closer now and it was only fueling the desire in the other three men as well who were all watching closely with heated gazes.

Even Konig was popping the button on his own pants now, hurriedly delving inside to wrap his hand around himself. Soap’s head was in the clouds at this point with his fingers tangled into dark red locks of hair as he guided the other man’s mouth down his length, his hips rocking forward to meet every bob of his head. It wasn’t until Konig gasped and let out a low groan that azure hues opened to gaze down his front.

The Lieutenant had slipped his hand between Konig’s thighs and taken hold of his huge erection. With his black gloves still on. The Austrian was whining around Soap’s length as Ghost worked him steadily. Watcher’s icy eyes were nearly black, his pupils blown wide with lust as the big man continued to eat him out. “Steamin’ Jesus, Ghost,” the dark haired Scot groaned out as he watched the two other men being taken care of by his man.

Soap’s hips thrusted forward into Konig’s open mouth, feeling the man as he did his best not to gag on the length. The Austrian’s throat was swallowing around him, saliva dribbling down his chin as the Scotsman held his head in place, refusing to allow his retreat. Even when the other’s hands came up to find his hips. Fingers were wrapped around the bones of his hips, gently pushing backwards before Soap whispered, “Ah come on, Konig. Just a few more seconds, aye?”

Immediately the hands at his hips stopped their gentle pushing, green eyes flicking up to land on azure hues before he forced himself down all the way, taking him completely with his nose pressed against those dark curls. A low growl vibrated through him and brought a flash of a smile to Soap’s mouth, “Eager to please are ye?” The mouth currently choking on the Scotsman’s length opened just enough for some kind of affirmative sound to come out before the sound of Fyn’s whining beside them stalled.

“Johnny,” azure hues flicked over towards the big man before he released his hold on Konig’s head the second he saw the look in those hazel eyes. His mask was still barely pushed up his nose, his mouth a mess of Fyn’s arousal and his own saliva. Soap’s knees felt weak just looking at him, that infamous glare settled directly on his face before it shot once to where Watcher was starting to writhe beneath him. He could stop the dark haired Scotsman with a mere look, but Konig and the ginger needed a…rougher touch.

The grip on Konig’s cock tightened at the base and stilled as the tall man huffed out in a mix of pain and pleasure. Ghost’s other hand shot to Fyn’s exposed neck, pressing just barely against his delicate throat in a silent threat of more if he kept being so greedy. Afterall Ghost was the only one who was still fully clothed, and even still partially masked up. It wasn’t hard to see the outline of his straining erection in his pants but he was paying it no mind, like it didn’t even exist. Why did that make every single one of them only want him more?

Ghost pushed himself up from where he’d been kneeling in front of Fyn, his hazel eyes still on Soap as he did. There was no doubt who had seized control of their situation, and the others were more than happy to relinquish it, for now at least. The Lieutenant stepped towards the dark haired Scot before he grabbed the man by the back of the neck. Soap went rigid under his grip, his heart beating faster at the feel of the large hand like an iron claw around his neck.

The strong hand guided the shorter man to the bed, before his free arm wrapped around his torso and Ghost’s slicked mouth pressed against the crook where his shoulder met his neck. “Fyn,” the name came out more like a question than a statement as the Brit’s voice rasped beside his ear. Watcher gave an answering hum, his own quiet question sounding off in answer, “Can Johnny fuck you?” Soap pressed back into Ghost’s chest at the question before his azure gaze trailed slowly up the freckled and tattooed body. His cock jumped at the thought and Fyn didn’t miss it. Icy eyes shooting down and only making it jump once more as Soap fought back the eager look in his eyes.

“I dinnae know, can he?” Watcher answered the question with his own, and the dark haired Scot let out a breath he’d pent up, turning his eyes to where Konig was lazily stroking himself as he watched the interaction. Ghost hummed against where his teeth were nibbling at his neck before Soap grinded back against him once more with another quiet sigh.

Finally the dark haired Scotsman broke right as the big man currently holding him in place sucked hard at his neck, no doubt there would be a hickey there later. A breathy sigh fell out past his parted lips as he whispered to Ghost, “Please, Lt, I wan tae fuck him.” Watcher’s fingers slid down, teasing himself as he enjoyed the view of the Brit having his way with the other Scotsman. It only made Soap more eager, one foot starting forward before the hand at his neck slid quickly to the front, holding his throat in a dangerously tight grip. A short whine left the shorter man as he tilted his head back, “Please, bloody hell, please Ghost. I need tae fuck him.”

There was a low growl against the skin of his shoulder as the Lieutenant sunk his teeth into the muscled shoulder. Pain rolled through the muscle in slow, aching waves before Ghost finally decided to let go. The big man’s mouth settled just behind Soap’s ear then as he finally relinquished his control, “Go ahead.” The hand around his torso and throat immediately let go as he gave his permission.

No one had to tell Soap twice though, the jeans he’d been clad in moments before were shucked off and on the ground in a moment. Thrown off to the side and out of the way along with his underwear as he stepped towards the smaller man awaiting him on the bed. Fyn looked delectable laying there, fingers still toying with his dripping core as he watched the other Scot make his way onto the bed. Soap’s mouth descended onto Watcher’s in a moment, eagerly tasting his lips in teasing flicks of his tongue before the younger man returned the favor with a smirk against his mouth.

Strong hands slid over freckled flesh, glancing down as his fingers made their way down. It didn’t take long for him to find the sensitive head of Watcher’s cock, the pads of his fingers circling it with deliberate slowness. Earning a low groan of pleasure from the younger man beneath him. At least until he pulled at the collar of Soap’s shirt, dragging him closer as the teasing tongue slipped past his lips, delving into the depths of the older man’s mouth. Fyn was a fiend, his mouth eager and needy as strong fingers continued to circle the sensitive bud agonizingly slow. Delicate hands proving not so delicate as they ripped the shirt off over Soap’s head and their lips continued their heated dance.

His hips canted up, both of them groaning as the toned stomach glided over his leaking and needy member. The young man growled against his mouth in the next moment, “He said tae fuck me, ye slow cunt.” Watcher’s freehand slid around his scarred side, fingernails digging into a rounded cheek as the smaller man rutted up against him again. Soap breathed out another heavy sigh as he too grinded down into him, the slightly sweaty skin against his sensitive cock sending a rush of heat through him.

A moment later the larger Scot was pushing himself up with one hand, the other hurriedly taking hold of himself at the base. Azure hues focused on the sight between them, the head of his prick dragging through the young man’s arousal. Gathering it on the tip before his eyes shot up to find Fyn’s heated gaze and he muttered out, “Fine ye wee bastart.” Soap slid in slowly at first, moaning as the walls tightened around him in response, feeling as if they were somehow beckoning him deeper inside. Pulling him further in as the man beneath him canted his hips up in an attempt to meet his slow moving hips.

Ginger curls pillowed against the comforter as his head fell back and his pale neck bared to Soap’s mouth. There was a whine to his left as the azure gaze turned quickly to find Konig watching them with a heated look in his eyes. His hand had been replaced by Ghost’s mouth though as his tongue slid over the sensitive skin. The tip of that devilish tongue catching at the ridge before flattening against the underside and taking him into his mouth. Konig whined again at the attention but his eyes never left the two Scots as their hips began to slap against one another.

Soap’s elbows were braced on either side of Fyn’s shoulders with his mouth devouring freckled and tattooed flesh, his eyes staring hard at Konig and Ghost. More than enjoying the sight of his man pleasuring someone who was actually taller than him for once, funny enough. He let out a huff of air at the thought before he pushed himself up to his knees on the bed, nearly falling off the edge but somehow managing to stay firmly buried inside of the small ginger.

Fyn’s thighs draped over his before they hooked around his waist and he crossed his ankles at the small of his back. The both of them were wearing a smirk now, two cheeky bastards who were more than just brats in the bedroom. Soap sat back on his heels as he pulled slowly back before driving hard back inside, the walls around him gushing with arousal and coating his length even more than it already was, especially after the way Ghost has already feasted on him and left him wanting for more. There was a quiet gasp from the smaller man as his icy gaze disappeared behind pale lids.

“Ah shite, do tha again,” Soap could follow directions, especially when it felt so good to do so. His hips slammed home again and once more Fyn let out a gasp, his body jolting in response even as his legs pulled the other Scot deeper inside. “Oh aye, that’s good,” another slow drag out of those depths and then another hard thrust back inside and the young man let out a low, breathy moan.

Soap was quick to set a steady rhythm, a smile on his face as he turned to see Konig still watching with a nearly blissed out look on his face. Ghost’s mouth still working hard along his- Christ Fyn hadn’t been kidding when he’d said his hands weren’t the only big thing Konig had. Ghost’s mouth sunk to the base with barely any effort, and Johnny couldn’t help but to groan at the sight. Hazel eyes shot over to him before he pulled off and replaced his mouth with a gloved hand, shooting Soap a small grin even as Konig moaned aloud at the feeling of the fabric, slicked with saliva and precome, dragging over his length.

Azure hues turned quickly back to the freckled face, the icy gaze he had expected to find was instead hidden behind pale lids. Plush lips were parted slightly as the man beneath him panted into the air trying to fill his lungs with air even as Soap drove it out of him with the force of his hips slamming home. Long, lithe fingers were dragging over slightly tanned skin and leaving behind streaks of white with the force of his grip. “Oh fuck,” the young man was close already, apparently Ghost had refused to let him finish before he’d urged Johnny between his legs.

Soap groaned just as the other Scot did, walls tightening around him like a vice as his hips continued to strike home hard before slowly dragging backwards. A steady and hard pounding between those thighs as their skin slapped together in response. Proud melodies of breathy moans and gasping breaths rising into the air. Fyn was angling his own hips even as Soap followed suit, both in search of something unfamiliar to one another. Neither one had ever been together before so this was just as much an experiment as it was anything else.

Finally the older man gave up though, annoyed with the unrelenting search as he reached one hand between their bodies to run the callused pads of his fingers over the sensitive nerves hidden between those pretty thighs. Fyn’s back arched nearly immediately in response, his ankles uncrossing as his feet fell to the bed and his heels pressed into the bed. Hands dug into Soap’s sides with a ferocity that was likely to draw blood if he wasn’t careful. Fingernails were digging into the Scot’s skin as Watcher took hold, in search of something to brace himself against as his orgasm built quickly, almost too fast.

“S-Soap,” the young man stammered out to which the other gave an answering grunt. The inside corners of his eyebrows turned up in a quiet question as his fingers continued to circle in a feverish rhythm that matched the pace of his hips. “Fas- Shite- Faster,” the dark-haired man gave a quiet smile before his hands slid down the length of the inside of his thin, freckled thighs. Fingers closed around the pale hips before Soap jerked the smaller man closer to him and over the bed, with that same smartass grin he always seemed to be wearing. Fyn was about to say something smart back before the older man slammed his hips home again, driving the air from the other’s lungs and earning a moan from not only Watcher but Konig as well.

The man’s pace quickened then, hips slamming home as he held onto the thin thighs. Both men needed something to hold onto for fear they’d go sliding straight off the bed on the other side. Neither of the two men even had the wherewithal to feel the bed creaking as Ghost pulled Konig to his feet. The Lieutenant pulled the Austrian to him by the back of the neck as their lips met in a hungry, devouring kiss. One Ghost was clearly dead set on dominating as he did.

Teeth clicked together as the big man pulled the other around, guiding him closer and closer to where he wanted the other to be. Konig was more than happy to oblige though, his hands running over the thick fabric of Ghost’s shirt until they found the collar. His long fingers continued upwards until they reached the hem of the mask where the other had slid it up in order to use his mouth on both Fyn and the tall man. Konig was lost as he felt a firm grasp around his wrist dragging his hands away, sliding them back down his sides and away from the mask. He hadn’t meant to even grab it but he had managed to slide it up a bit further than what Ghost was apparently comfortable with as he redirected his attention elsewhere.

Fingers wrapped around the thick length between them before Konig was being turned towards the sight of the two Scotsmen, both of whom were chasing a high now. Hands wrapped around the tall man’s hips, thumbs rubbing circles into the skin along his bare back where dimples sunk in on either side of his spine. Ghost’s mouth pressed a kiss against the back of Konig’s neck, guiding the man ever closer as they stepped towards the two who were none the wiser on the bed. A quiet whisper hit his bare skin where lips had been just moments before, “You want to join them?” There was a hesitant nod from the taller man though he stayed still, waiting to hear what all the man currently rocking into his ass had to say, “Johnny or Fyn?”

The breath caught in the taller one’s throat and his eyes went glassy for a minute as he zoned out, still watching the scene literally laid out before him. He didn’t come back to himself until Ghost nipped lightly at the side of his neck, hazel eyes shooting up to find where his green were still focusing almost solely on the two men on the bed. ��Soap,” Ghost growled against his neck, the fingers around Konig’s waist tightening as he pulled him hard back into his own hips. The outline of his erection through the thick fabric grinding hard into the Austrian’s still clothed ass.

A second of doubt crossed his mind then, a fear that maybe he’d been too forward. Maybe he had said too much that Ghost wasn’t quite ready to hear. Then again would the Lieutenant have offered Johnny up if he wasn’t prepared for this? Would he have even agreed to this if he hadn’t been ok with it?

Konig’s internal question was answered immediately though when the strong hands at his hips slid down, fingers jerking at the waistband of his pants as he urged the other to get on with it. It was the raspy words in his ear though that really set the tall man in motion, “Have at him then.” And then, just like Konig had watched Ghost do to the dark haired Scotsman, the hands released him and the warmth at his back disappeared.

He didn’t waste a moment longer then, his fingers clawing at the waist of his pants until they were slipping down his legs while his shirt quickly followed to the floor before he stepped up behind Soap for the second time that night. One hand slid around the Scot’s ribs and then the other mirrored it, the tall man leaning down to mutter, “Not yet. Not without me.” The Austrian’s voice trailed off in the Scot’s ear, sounding more like Ghost than Konig, but again this was something neither of them had ever done before so this was a learning experience and maybe that was just how the tall man was in bed. Soap wasn’t exactly unfamiliar to it with the way his boyfriend always talked to him.

Thrusting hips paused, Watcher writhing in front of him and in desperate need for release at this point after having been brought so close to the edge now not once but twice. He rocked his hips into Soap who was barely any better, only remaining still at Konig’s whim. The Scot swallowed hard before glancing over his shoulder feeling one hand grazing over his skin to fiddle with the dark hairs of his chest absently, while the other made its way further south down his ribs and then his backside. Until it found its destination and he felt fingers prodding gently at his own unused entrance.

“Gonnae keep teasin me or wha-” Konig’s finger dipped inside before his lips pressed against Soap’s neck in an attempt to soothe and distract. “Bloody hell,” one huge hand pressed flat against his chest and kept the dark-haired man from leaning forward. The Austrian kept him flush with his broad chest pressed against the bare flesh of his back. Even as Konig added a second finger he refused to let Soap go, to let him fall over Watcher’s needy and sensitive skin like a blanket. “Let- Oh Christ-” Thick fingers curled and Soap whined at the sensation, still trying to lean forward before he gave up and instead rocked his hips.

Fyn’s walls tightened around him in response, both men thankful for the friction at this point, until Soap pulled back and Konig’s fingers crooked again. “Konig, shite, quit playin’,” and then the Scot felt the hard length pressing against his back. The tip of his tongue flicking out to wet his dry lips before he smiled, the fingers disappeared from his chest as the man leaned back. Konig hummed appreciatively at the sight before him, his fingers pulling out as he reached down to run his hand over the length still wet from Ghost’s mouth.

When he leaned forward again, the head of his cock slid against the tight hole and he watched as Soap’s thighs widened just a bit in expectation. The man leaned over nearly immediately, Fyn’s loud whine the only disturbance now as the older man pulled out. “Fuck, sorry, I’m sorry Fyn,” the ginger was at a loss for what to do now. And to be quite honest Soap was no better in his current state, trying to back himself onto Konig’s dick without leaving Watcher unsatisfied seemed like an impossible task to him now. His head was too far in the clouds just as much as the other’s was.

At least until the deep voice from the side of the room spoke up, “Fyn roll over.” Oh yeah. That was an option wasn’t it? Three pairs of eyes glanced over to the source of the suggestion only to find Ghost sitting in an armchair, still completely clothed with his mask pulled back down now. His chin was resting on the palm of his hand and his face portrayed what could only have been described as boredom. There’s no way he was though, not with how his cock was straining to get free from his jeans. And yet the man remained a statue in front of them all, acting as if he was above all the whining, moaning, groaning, and rutting the other three had been doing.

Not a single one of them would dare to ignore his orders though, not now. They’d gotten them all this far hadn’t they? Fyn rolled to his stomach still underneath the other Scot before he pushed himself up. His back came flush with Soap’s chest and as he pressed his backside back he felt the leaking red tip pressing right against his entrance once more. With how wet the ginger already was it didn’t take much until Soap was sliding in once more. Watcher’s pretty face pressed down into the pillow now and his ass high in the air to meet the older man’s awaiting hips. God they were a perfect sight for sore eyes.

Konig waited until Ghost gave a little hum of satisfaction before he pressed his own head against the puckered hole again. Green eyes watching both of the Scots beneath him as he tried to push himself inside. Soap glanced back once as one hand found Fyn’s lower back, bracing himself on the ginger, his fingers of his other hand though were digging hard into the sheets. Until the head finally managed to press inside and his forehead fell forward with a low groan at the feeling. “Oh shite,” he panted into the air, nearly falling to his elbows until he remembered Fyn was beneath him and he couldn’t.

Konig was relentless, filling him so differently than Ghost did. It wasn’t just Soap panting now though, all three men were breathing hard as they stayed eerily still. Like if one moved the careful Jenga tower they’d become would fall apart. At least until the tall man came flush with thick thighs and long fingers wrapped around his hips. A low hum came from Konig’s mouth as he rocked forward, grinding himself a bit deeper into the tight depths that surrounded him, his eyes shutting for a moment as he enjoyed the way the depths gripped him.

As he rocked forward Soap mirrored the motion, albeit a bit harder and more erratic as he jolted his hips forward into Fyn’s. The young man let out a low groan into the sheets, and Johnny was caught in the middle while it felt like every thought was beginning to leave him now. His hand shook where it was still braced on the freckled and tattooed back bared before him. “Sweet fuckin jesus mate, I-” Konig rutted forward a bit harder this time and Soap felt his own cock plunging into tight depths.

It was too much by far, and even Konig and Fyn couldn’t help their quiet little moans every time Soap shifted against them in his thoughtless search for relief. Another hard thrust forward and a quiet moan fell from his lips, his eyes shutting tight as he fought to keep himself from cumming too fast. There was no hope for that though, not when the walls around him were squeezing relentlessly and there was a cock beginning to plunge into his depths in a slow rhythm. Azure hues flicked to the side of the room, finding where Ghost was still sitting with an almost disinterested look in his eyes now.

One hand was still holding his chin in his palm while the other was on his thigh, white-knuckling the huge muscle until pain was lancing through him. His grip stayed on his thigh but it stopped the painful tightening at least. Ghost was fighting with every urge in himself to not pull his own throbbing length out and pleasure himself to the sight before him. The scene was like a live action porn scene and though internet porn didn’t really do it for him this…This was doing it for him. Especially with the way Konig’s hips were slamming into an ass that was usually his to pound and causing Johnny to jolt forward into Fyn’s hips in response. The Scot’s cock, no his cock, plunging deep inside of the ginger with every short thrust of his perfect fucking hips and not into him was more than a maddening thought now. So much more.

The Lieutenant swallowed hard, his thumbs tracing the line of his jaw over the fabric. This was all his doing. He’d put them all in this situation right now and they’d gone along with it willingly, more than willingly even…enthusiastically. His hazel gaze stayed on Soap until the man’s head fell forward and he reached around Fyn’s torso, holding onto the smaller man for dear life as Konig continued to dictate the pace. The dark-haired Scot was close, Ghost could see that from here with the way his hands were digging into the sheets and he was panting into the air in search of a full breath that the tall man behind him was refusing to let him find.

Now normally they both knew that the Scot would have been able to keep himself from cumming. He’d done it plenty of times before. However, this was not like every time before. Soap groaned against Fyn’s shoulder as the young man tried to push himself up, whining quiet words no one else but the two of them could hear. Hazel eyes narrowed as the big man sat forward, the hand on his thigh running up the inside to palm at himself before he heard another moan fall out of those pretty lips he was usually filling.

There wasn’t even a warning, just the tightening of Soap’s arm around Fyn’s torso to pull him closer before his hips thrusted hard against the younger man’s. Even Konig seemed surprised when the man tensed hard and held the ginger beneath him close as he finished inside of him. Soap was busy blabbering nonsense into the young man’s ear, quiet apologies, endearments, and other things that Ghost barely even caught from where he was sitting. “Johnny?” The azure hues flicked back to the man sitting in his chair, breathing heavily still against Fyn’s back while his forehead rested against the bared shoulder.

Shame. It was all Ghost could see in that gaze before his gaze softened behind the mask. Konig was still deep inside the man even though he’d stilled for just a few seconds while Soap came down from his high. “Are you giving up?” The azure gaze turned back to Fyn who was red faced and panting still as well having been denied his release three times now. The older Scot’s head shook slowly in response as Ghost stood from his chair, moving towards the bed with a quick nod, “Good.”

As he sat back down on the bed Konig’s skin slapped against Soap’s as the moans began to fill the air once more. Fyn’s short whines returned to being muffled by the bed as he buried his face once more into the sheets. Ghost slid back against the pillows on the bed, enjoying a different angle as once more Konig set a brutal pace. The Lieutenant avoided attending to his straining cock though, now in full view of the other three men he was content to watch with crossed arms as he kicked his feet up onto the bed.

Watcher’s icy gaze jolted up from the bed then, seeming to realize that the big man covered from head to toe in black had finally joined them on it. Ginger brows rose into his hairline as Soap’s cock hit deep inside of him. The hand that had been around the young man’s torso slid further down between his thighs to circle around that sensitive bundle of nerves with renewed fervor, trying to work him towards his release once more. Lithe fingers clenched into the sheets as he bit back a short cry before long fingers were digging into his ginger curls.

Konig pulled him up and off the bed, one hand still wrapped around Soap’s hip as the Scot continued to pound into the slick depths despite the tall man having stopped. Ghost watched with interest as Fyn pushed himself up off the bed, his chest heaving with the effort as he tried desperately to reach his peak now. The Austrian’s voice surprised him as he spoke directly to him now, “You look like you could use some help, Ghost. Help him, Newt.” The young man groaned a bit at the order before his icy gaze landed on the big man sitting just a few inches in front of him.

It was like the man was looking for permission and it took everything in the big man not to stroke himself through the fabric of his pants at the sight. A subtle nod of the head was all it took for Konig to release the ginger curls and a freckled hand to reach for his thighs. Ghost slid over the short distance between them quickly, leaning back against the pillows again with one arm behind his head as Watcher leaned over him.

One hand kept the ginger up while the other worked feverishly at his belt, but the big man wasn’t willing to help him, not this time. He watched as he struggled with just one hand, Konig and Soap’s relentless strikes sending him spiraling quickly. Finally the young man gave a frustrated growl before he leaned over and snagged the belt with his teeth, pulling at it until it came loose and he could pop the button with his fingers quickly. The zipper came down with a quick flick of his mouth before Fyn’s eyes were staring curiously down at the underwear hidden beneath, or perhaps lack thereof.

Soap groaned at the sight and jolted forward with a quietly mumbled, “Dirty fuckin bastart.” Hazel hues darted up to him with a smile hidden in those colorful depths before the lieutenant let out a quiet sigh as Fyn's tongue ran over his bare length. Ghost didn’t feel it on the first quick lick but as the skilled tongue circled around the head of his cock he felt the piece of metal. His brows raised slightly in response and he smirked at the sensation. Eagerly awaiting the feel of it again as Fyn wrapped his lips around the head and drug his tongue flat over the slit. The piece of round metal dipping as it ran over the throbbing organ. “Dirty fuckin bastarts,” Soap moaned out before his hips snapped forward jolting the ginger forward a bit while he hummed around the sensitive head.

Ghost smirked at the feeling before he eyed the other Scot again and asked, “What’s wrong Johnny? Wish it was you?” One huge hand wrapped around Soap’s throat from behind as Konig pulled him off of Fyn’s back and flush with his chest once more. “You’ve got enough to handle right now I think. Fyn deserves a nice reward, don’t ya think, Johnny?” Konig whispered something in the man’s ear softly before the Scot gave a quick and desperate nod in answer. Ghost’s attention returned to the ginger as his fingers slipped through the curls and cupped the back of his head. Watching as the young man worked at his own pace, tongue piercing sliding over the sensitive flesh in an attempt to send the Brit into a frenzy. He was very nearly succeeding.

Konig was driving hard into the man held flush to his chest. Words slipping out of his mouth that he’d never had said if they weren’t already so deep in this shit there was no turning back. “Schlampe,” the tall man growled into the prickly hairs along the back of his head. “So eng, fucking Hure,” he mouthed against the prickly hairs, panting into Soap’s already sweating skin until the Scot was whining and his hands were grabbing at the fingers wrapped a bit too tight around his throat. Konig’s fingers loosened, only barely, and after a quiet huff he grinded against the smaller man.

Azure hues were glassy, staring ahead as he whined out, “Don’t stop. Please don’t fuckin stop. Shite-” Konig’s fingers tightened again just as his thrusts resumed their brutal pace. Slamming the smaller man’s hips forward to continue impaling Watcher.

A breathy voice sounded just behind Soap’s ear as the tall man answered, “Not stopping, not even close…” Soap whined as best he could despite the strong grip around his throat. His glassy eyed gaze traveling down to where his cock was disappearing into the ginger’s tight walls, his cum leaking out around him with every thrust Konig bullied into him. The drops of white only made his path slicker, easier, and he could barely even feel Fyn clenching around him anymore. Too lost in the sensation of every ridge and vein that was gliding over his own walls.

It was not wasted on Ghost though. He could see Johnny was out of it by this point. So far gone there was no more potential of coming back and a smile lifted underneath his mask at the thought. That's what his partner had wanted coming into this and Konig was obviously more than willing to pound it into him. His own cock twitched at the thought, his hips shifting and finally indicating how far gone he nearly was for the first time all night. Immediately icy hues were on him, watching his face for a moment as the strong fingers held him halfway down his length still. His pierced tongue running over the sensitive skin in slow, languorous strokes.

Until Ghost finally seemed to lose a bit of his patience and pulled the man's mouth off his length. Hazel eyes darted to where Soap was still completely out of his mind enjoying Konig's rough treatment before his fingers were grabbing at freckled and tattooed biceps and pulling the young man towards him. He left a trail as Soap's cum drooled out along with his apparent arousal, before Ghost guided one of his thin thighs over both of his to straddle his still mostly clothed body. The big man didn't even have to say anything or move his hands off Fyn's waist. The young man just reached between their bodies, drug the tip of his leaking cock through the cum and arousal still dripping from his core before he took a seat on his lap.

His eyes never left the freckled face, even as his chin tilted up and his mouth fell open in a silent gasp. He wasn't even fully seated as his hands flew to the set of broad shoulders in front of him. Hazel hues slid over the bare skin as the slick walls tightened around his cock in quick pulses. Fyn let out a quiet sound of pleasure not quite a moan but too loud to be a sigh, more like a squeak before he mumbled out, "Der ist aber groß." Definitely not English, especially with the way the Austrian stilled inside of Johnny, his green eyes boring holes into the side of Ghost's head.

Both of the other men were breathing in hard gasps, Soap was still so far past gone that the big man wasn't even sure where he was. Konig though was watching Ghost and Fyn with a gaze so heated it could have set a fire if it was directed at anything but the masked man. "Größer als ich, Newt?" The smaller man let out a low whimper as he sunk a bit further down, Johnny's release aiding him as he split the man in two on his length.

Finally the ginger curls shook slowly before the young man slipped back into English as he muttered an answer of, "Not the same, Koni, diff-" Ghost cut him off as he rocked the man's hips back and forth, grinding him on his length as he drew out another breathy gasp from him.

Hazel hues shot up to Konig then as he smirked underneath the mask, leaning forward off the pillows until his nose was buried in the crook of Fyn's neck. The fabric of the balaclava ran over his bare skin and left the pale flesh tinged red. Ghost breathed in deeply against the skin as lithe fingers moved up his shoulders to his neck, pulling at the fabric covering his head. He wasn't trying to take it off though, it was more like he was trying to guide the big man's face against his skin, curling his long fingers into the fabric as a replacement for the soft, blonde curls hidden beneath. Ghost relented to the other's hands, letting the man busy himself as a distraction as he continued to rock the hips back and forth slowly, working himself deeper with every little movement they made together.

Konig couldn't stop watching, he was starting to understand that little prick of possessiveness Ghost held onto so closely when it came to Soap. There was something that made him near feral as far as Fyn was concerned, and watching the big man enjoy his little Newt so much only made his cock twitch where it was still nestled deep inside the man pressed hard against his chest. His hands let go of the other’s neck as he guided the man back down to the bed. "So good for me, Soap," he whispered as the smaller man held himself up on the bed. At least he was trying to hold himself up until Konig pulled his arms out from underneath him. He drug the man's hands to the small of his back and took both of his wrists in one hand.

The side of Soap's face pressed into the bed as he tried to look back. It didn't take the tall man long though before his hips were dragging backwards and then careening forward at a brutal pace. He gasped hard, the short moment of reprieve had only served to pull him out of the daze he'd been in before. Now though, without Fyn to sink his cock into and nothing to brace against he was glaringly aware of the fact that Konig was currently trying to wreck him. The sweaty slap of skin filled the room, dragging out a loud moan for more from the smaller man that the Austrian was only too happy to provide.

Green eyes were glued to Soap's face now. Watching every little expression he made and reveling in the little noises that were pouring out of him. "Feels so good, fuckin hell Konig," there was a proud look on the tall man's face at the praise. Instinctively his eyes shot up to find Fyn's face, still blissed out and guiding the fabric clad face against his neck. Lips pressing through the fabric against the delicate neck he loved to hold so much.

Soap was tightening around him though, his hips rutting forward as he continued to pound into him from behind, almost like he was searching for something. "About to cum again already?" The Scot let out a low groan, his forehead pressing into the bed as he shook his head in answer. He was lying and it only made the small smile on Konig's face grow a bit wider in response. The Austrian could feel the throb at the base of his own cock, the pressure that'd been building steadily since he'd watched Fyn kissing up and down that now covered and scarred neck. "Aren't you going to make me cum too, Soap?" Konig leaned forward some, grinding hard into his tight depths which only served to make the man beneath him tense. His head nodded slowly as he tried to control himself.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, he'd already shed plenty though as they left trails of salt down his red cheeks. His hands were still trapped behind his back as Konig used them to drag him back hard into where his cock was somehow sinking further inside of him. Further even than Ghost reached but he didn't quite fill him in the same way. Even so, Soap was still a whimpering mess and he couldn't control it in the slightest, nor did he want to. He was content with being used, content in knowing that Ghost was sitting just in front of him burying himself into the ginger Scotsman and listening to him whining for more from the big Austrian.

A low hum came from behind him as Konig gave a pleased sound and then whispered, "Guter Junger, Soap…" The hand trapping his wrists disappeared and he desperately pushed his upper half up off the sheets. All before Konig's hands were around his hips and the roughest ride he'd probably ever had resumed in full force.

Fyn's gaze slid slowly over to where his partner was, for lack of a better descriptor, destroying the other Scotsman. His breath hitched at the sight and he felt Ghost pause against his skin with a curious sound dragging from his throat. He looked up to see the icy hues already fixed on the other two, his own gaze quickly following as he watched for a moment. Soap's eyes were on the both of them as moans fell from his lips like a choir. The hands around his freckled hips rocked him hard again as Ghost slid further inside. Stretching him slowly, almost methodically, as he opened him wider than he was used to, than he’d ever felt really. Fyn swallowed hard and he felt the hazel gaze boring into him again before the covered lips moved to his adam's apple, kissing at the skin with an almost lazy attitude.

The pace was maddeningly slow, and not just for Fyn. Ghost was still rocking his thin waist back and forth, eating up the little noises that he pulled from that delicate throat. The little whines and whimpers that were growing in both intensity and volume. The man was driving Fyn insane, he'd never had to beg Konig for something, especially not for more or to be faster or rougher. However right now the young man was seriously considering it. He couldn't keep his mind focused anywhere else because every time he tried there would be a relentless throbbing from between his thighs and the huge hands at his hips would grind him back and forth again, impaling him even further and yet still not enough.

Ghost was forcing the young man's attention to stay on him. Forcing him to watch as he continued sliding further and further inside with a maddening slowness. "Feels so good," the young man panted into the air before he felt the hands at his hips tightening and keeping him from going any further down. "Please no," the words slipped out before Fyn could stop them but at this point he couldn't care less. He wasn't above begging when all he wanted was to finally cum. He'd been teased too much since they got here and at this point he just needed it, it didn't matter how he got it. "Ghost please, please, I need to cum. I need it, please. Bloody hell, fuckin please-"

His desperate pleads were cut short as the hands finally pulled him the last couple inches down, grinding the sensitive bundle of nerves against the pale skin of his pelvis. The short gasp only made Ghost smirk as he ran his hands up the freckled back, trailing over the branches of the tree he knew was inked there. “You want it?” Fyn nodded immediately in answer, the strong hands holding him stopping him from moving even as he tried to. Finally he gave another quick nod as he stayed still to which Ghost huffed in amusement and laid back once more before both hands moved behind his head and he muttered, “Then earn it.”

The ginger’s gaze locked onto Ghost’s, his cheeks burning red with need as he fought to catch his breath. Earn it? He'd never had to earn it before, but Fyn was a quick learner and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to get his during all of this. Especially after being edged so many times already. He grinded a few times against Ghost, feeling those pulsing throbs returning with renewed vigor as he lifted his hips and braced against the broad chest in front of him.

There was a smile in his eyes though the rest of his face was still covered by the mask. Hazel eyes watched with lazy interest as the smaller man sat back down with a low sigh. His eyes shutting tight as he rode the big man, his breathy moans rising into the air in time with every time he raised his hips and then plunged back down onto his length. “Fuck,” the young man muttered before his eyelids opened narrowly to take in the sight of the balaclava-clad face laying before him.

Ghost was still watching with lazy interest, his gaze raking up and down the freckled body, inspecting the vines that wound down his arms like artwork. A whimper from beside them drew both sets of eyes then, Johnny’s flushed face the only thing either of them could look at. Another loud whimper came from Soap as they watched, needy and wanting while Konig continued to wreck him.

In an instant Ghost’s eyes flicked back to Fyn, a newfound heat and desire hidden in those multicolored depths as he gave a quick command, "Kiss him. Now." It was a bit of a surprising request, and the ginger's head quickly tilted in confusion before the hands Ghost had shoved behind his head were in motion, sliding up along his thighs. He caressed gently at first before he dug them in and stopped the young man's desperate ride on his length. The pressure at the base of Ghost's cock was maddening but it was miniscule in comparison to how much he wanted to see Fyn making out with his man. His Johnny.

It didn't take another word before the young man was lifting up off of Ghost's lap just enough to lean towards Soap. The other Scot was oblivious to everything but Konig's hand jerking him off and the engorged length currently sending shockwaves of pleasure through him. His azure gaze was glassy as he stared ahead blindly. He didn't seem to come back around until the delicate fingers grazed over the stubble covering his jaw and another whine left him as Fyn lifted his chin and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was hesitant at first until he felt Ghost's fingers slowly trailing further up his thighs, grazing over the bone of his hip until his strong grip stilled over the pale, freckled flesh of his waist.

Fyn dove further into the kiss then, almost as if the simple touch of his hands was spurring him on. A reward for following the order he'd been given. It was. When one hand slid towards the inside of his thigh it truly did become a reward. The wide pad of Ghost's thumb caressed over the engorged head of his dick. His eyes clenching shut tightly just as his thighs tried to do the same and were instead blocked by wide hips. His soft skin scratched against the rough fabric of his pants. When the rough finger grazed over the sensitive nerves again he moaned into Soap's mouth. The other Scot mirrored his noises as well as Konig worked himself and the man he was pumping into, into a frenzy.

"Oh shite, fuck me," Soap breathed out hard against the young man's mouth before Fyn was capturing his lips again with whispered words of encouragement. Quiet praises only for their ears until he heard Konig's hips still against the man's backside. The arm he'd wrapped around Soap's torso slowly slid towards his back as Fyn broke the kiss. The other man was a panting mess as he finally got his wits back, his head falling forward as he looked down his front and down towards where he'd spilled all over the sheets below him.

Konig's fist had a couple streaks of cum across the back of his hand as he lifted it up to his face, inspecting it in the light for a moment before his tongue flicked out to drag across the skin. He cleaned his hand off quickly as his eyes found hazel, a lazy look holding steady in both pairs of eyes. The huge hand fell back to Soap’s hip as the man tried to hide his shaking limbs but only managed to bury his face in the sheets instead. Konig held him steady, refusing to let him lay down as he grinded slowly against his ass, his own breathing beginning to calm as he did so.

It wasn’t until he felt the tall man as he slid out of him that he even realized that the other had finished as well. One large hand slid up the length of his spine until finally the strong grip let him go and he was free to lay down on the bed, with his forehead nestled against the crook of his elbow and his other hand lying lazily against the back of his head. It was obvious Soap was spent, every muscle in his body relaxed and yearning to be left alone as he tried to recover from Konig’s roughness.

The Austrian was no better off though as he sat on the edge of the bed and laid back on the bed, watching contentedly as Ghost and Fyn continued to ride each other slowly. The wide tip of his thumb rubbing slowly against the puffy bundle of nerves, causing jolts of pleasure to rush through the young man’s entire body. Every circling of his thumb was accompanied by a pulsing throb around his cock and new rush of slick arousal that had him twitching with need where he was settled inside of those tight depths.

One hard thrust up to sheathe the rest of himself inside was all that Fyn needed before he finally tipped over the edge. After countless rounds of edging it hit him like a tidal wave. Every muscle went taut as his fingers dug into the broad expanse of chest, well really the shirt that sat like a wall between his and Ghost’s skin. It was beyond frustrating even as his hips grinded down against his length in spasms. The thumb between his thighs never stopped even as he worked to get himself back under control, his icy hues disappearing behind his lids for a moment as he took a few deep breaths.

The Lieutenant seemed completely content to sit there, letting Fyn get what he needed. One of his hands returned to its place behind his head where he’d been propping himself up even as he continued to work the head of his cock with his thumb. When the icy gaze finally reopened, Ghost was watching quietly. His thumb slowed to a halt finally as one of the delicate hands started in towards his wrist, stopping before it reached as he braced once more against Ghost’s chest and he fought to catch his breath.

Fyn rocked forward slowly, his eyes trailing down the figure laid out before him before his head tilted and he asked with a bit of sass, “What ye didnae earn yers too?” Ghost’s mouth moved underneath the fabric, his hazel eyes crinkling with a familiar glint of amusement there that the ginger was starting to enjoy seeing. His free hand slid slowly against the expanse of thigh, the rough pad of his thumb caressing the thin skin along the inside before the big man’s shoulders finally gave a slow, non-committal shrug.

A slow movement right beside him drew Ghost’s attention as Soap pushed himself up on an elbow, the man beside him taking a deep breath before his gaze landed on his partner. He stretched up slowly, his free hand raising to run against the balaclava that still hid his face. Hazel hues followed the progress of the hand as best as they could, his breath catching as Soap’s fingers slid down to hook underneath the hem of the mask and drag it up slowly. Ghost tensed somewhat, his gaze watching the other man curiously, completely oblivious to Fyn’s fingers working slowly at the hem of his shirt to drag it up his stomach slowly. The two Scotsmen somehow in kahoots without even needing to say it aloud.

Johnny held the big man’s attention so completely and easily Ghost didn’t even notice Konig sliding to the other side of the bed to help Fyn as he struggled to pull the shirt up. Soap had the mask pulled up and settled on the bridge of his nose in a matter of seconds before his mouth was diving down, and the big man was powerless to deny him as fingers slid against the blonde stubble of his jaw. Curling around the back of his head until both of Ghost’s hands were hungrily pulling the other man closer by the shoulder and the back of his neck. Wanting more from the man he loved so wholly he knew he would never escape it, even if he were to die Soap’s love would haunt him in the afterlife.

The fingers dancing against his skin didn’t even register until he felt lips pressing against one of his nipples and then teeth nipping at the sensitive bud as one of the other men drew it into his mouth. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away from his Scotsman long enough to find out which one though. It became evident who it was though when he felt the weight on his lap shift backwards and two small hands braced against his thighs before Fyn’s hips lifted off of him. Slow at first, trying to find a rhythm as Soap continued to distract the big man so easily it was almost pathetic. When the small man sat back down he circled his hips before lifting back off, the needle-like fingers digging into the muscles of his thighs as he rode him steadily.

Ghost grunted into Soap’s mouth, his body stiffening for a moment as he took in a few deep breaths that the other men quickly stole. Konig’s mouth which was continuing to explore his body, kissing and nipping lightly at skin he knew would stay covered until the next time Soap unwrapped him like a present. And Fyn’s rhythm which picked up and he felt the pressure at the base of his cock dangerously close to unraveling. One of his hands tightened into the dark locks of a mohawk and the other found the dark red, wavy hair that he wrapped around his fist and used to guide the other man’s mouth back up to his unattended chest and then slowly back down towards where Fyn was still riding him.

Like a rising tide Konig’s mouth moved up and down his torso, Soap’s consistent lips teasing his mouth with quick flicks of his tongue to taste him before retreating once more though Ghost refused to chase. His every thought was too high to focus long enough now to demand more. He was close now and with the three men working relentlessly to get him there he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Ghost pulled away just long enough to mumble, “Close, gonna cum.” There was a low hum of encouragement from somewhere further down his body but his ears were already starting to ring as he pushed up into the tight depths surrounding him.

There was barely even another noise from him, Ghost had always been quiet unless Soap was the only one around. The sound that escaped him wasn’t quite a whine or a moan from his throat before the pulsing throbs of his cock exploded into a rush. Ghost’s head fell back against the pillows as he still held tight to Soap and Konig’s hair, his eyes shut tight as he rutted up slowly into Fyn’s depths. Fucking his release deeper and deeper with every half hearted thrust as he rode out the high of his climax. His face and chest both as red as fire and sweat beading up in the light dust of blonde hair along his stomach and in the valley of his chest that he felt Konig lapping up enthusiastically.

“That’s it m’eudail,” Soap’s soft voice whispered just beside his ear as his fingers stroked soothingly along his bared jaw. Ghost tilted his head slowly towards the familiar sound before the hazel eyes opened and he nudged his nose up against Soap’s neck before relaxing back against the pillow. Still working to calm his breathing. “Tired?” The quiet question tickled his ear as Ghost nodded slowly and he felt a smirk against his skin as Soap leaned down to kiss at his jaw once more, “Good…”

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hereticpriest · 5 months ago

Text

Ganache

Relationship: Tony Balerdi x Original Trans Male Character

Warnings: Discrimination, Liberal Adam Bashing, Transphobia, Physical Violence, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Pegging, Rimjobs, Male Terms Used for AFAB Genitalia.

A gentle breeze rolls through the open door, ruffling the multi-coloured tablecloths and bringing with it the scent of flowers from the florist across the street. The smell of baking bread and rich pastries wafts out in return, drawing the gaze of a busker only a few storefronts away. His gentle strumming is the soundtrack of this warm summer day on a walking-only side street in London's Marylebone neighbourhood. The four tables in the patisserie are occupied, and the deceptively young-looking cashier is making quick work of the small but steady line with practiced skill. He couldn't be more than twenty, but his smile is experienced, and his customer service unparalleled. He's a handsome young man with extraordinarily dark skin and hazel eyes, and a charming way about him that seems to disarm his customers effortlessly.

Two young women can often be seen coming through the small door from the back of the patisserie, bringing out trays loaded with delicious new treats, or helping the young cashier with coffee orders. One is a little older, her skin a deep olive, and her raven hair pulled into a thick braid that reaches her mid back. The other is likely fresh out of culinary school, skin pale as milk and hair a fiery red. The young girl greets a couple of customers in the line jovially, a brilliant smile on her face exposing a gap in the front of her teeth and a twinkle in her eye. Despite her thick Irish accent, the customers appear to be able to understand her, and an older woman with white hair steps briefly out of the line to give the girl a hug.

The olive-skinned girl startles as a bold voice calls "Sano!" from the back while she carefully replaces a tray of multi-coloured macarons, but she only rolls her eyes fondly as she finishes her task, then turns to face the open door with her hands on her hips.

"Yes, boss?"

"Don't call me that. Are we okay on pain aux raisins?"

"We're okay. Focus on those cinnamon buns. You know Mrs. Bray will have a hissy fit if you don't have them done when she comes in." Sano replies, doing a quick count of a couple of pastries before slipping through the door into the back. The Irish girl nudges the cashier playfully as she passes him, nearly making him drop the handful of coins he's counting, and he rolls his eyes.

"Mature, Saoirse." He calls after her. The customer he's checking out grins as if this is a common sight, taking her change and her little bag of goodies, then nodding at the young man.

"Have a lovely day, Ollie." She says as she tucks her wallet into her purse and heads out the door. Ollie helps a couple more customers, until there’s a lull in the patisserie, and he’s able to duck his head into the back. A man in his early thirties with sunkissed skin and white-blond hair stands over a tray of cinnamon buns, glazing them generously at just the right temperature for the icing to melt into the twists of the buns. Long, dark eyelashes flutter against his well-defined cheekbones as he finishes with a flourish, the muscles in his arms rippling as he lifts the heavy tray onto the cooling racks. As he faces Ollie, his light green eyes are focused on the cannolis he begins filling, quick with the confidence of years of experience.

“Boss, I’m gonna run on my break. Want me to deliver Mr. Nanjiani’s lunch for him on the way back?”

The man sighs as if he’s forgotten the time as he pops the tray of cannolis onto the rack as well, wiping his hands down on his apron before he pulls it over his head and hangs it. He’s of average height for a man, maybe 5’9 or 5’10, but more athletic and muscular than most his age. Under his apron, he wears a simple grey t-shirt and black jeans that highlight his thinner waist and generous ass.

“Go ahead. Drop Mrs. Webber at the corner a pasty or two for some berries, yeah?” He requests, and Ollie laughs but agrees, heading off to grab his things and run. The man offers Sano and Saoirse a warm smile, then gestures to the oven.

“Don’t burn anything while I’m shmoozing and winning hearts.” He teases, and Saoirse snorts.

“Says him who hasn’t had a date since I started here. Go on then, Charlie boy, show us how it’s done.”

Charlie laughs, tossing a rag at the ginger girl as he slips through the swinging doors and checks his face in the shiny metal of the coffee machine for any flour.

“You’re all clear.” A deep, American voice calls, and Charlie turns with a friendly smile to face his first customer. He freezes in place, the slightest widening of his eye giving away his panic, but he clears his throat and quickly regains his composure.

“Y’alright?” He greets the American, who nods, already peering at the pastries on offer and evidently not noticing Charlie’s momentary panic.

“Can I get one of each flavour of macaron, a pain aux chocolat, one of those buttery buns you’ve got there, and… I smell cinnamon buns?” The man asks with a cheeky smile.

“They’re hot. Fresh out, if ya like?” Charlie offers, and the American nods eagerly. Charlie fetches his purchases, boxing them up for easier transport and sliding it across the counter after the man pays.

“Nice place you’ve got here. I’m Adam, chef over at the Langham.” The man holds out his hand, and Charlie barely hesitates before he shakes it.

“Charlie. See ya ‘round.”

It is only when Adam is well out of view that Charlie grips the counter and bends forwards until his head is nearly level with his waist.

“Shit. Shit, shit shit.”

“He didn’t recognise me, Monty. Just shows up out of the blue, buys a box of pastries and fucks off. Looks well - must be off the dope for once in his bloody life. Fucking cunt.” Charlie vents as he pulls his shirt over his head, sitting his ass down on the edge of the table behind him.

“He’s been off that shit for a while, far as I can tell. I told you he was back in town, Charlie. It’s been ages. You knew you might run into him. I know you tried to put that whole place behind you, but it wasn’t all bad. What Adam did was fucked, but you had friends. Still got me out of it, after all. And you always got on with Michel and Tony too.” Montgomery Reece insists as he flicks the needle in his hands and approaches. Charlie looks away with a wince while Monty grabs a handful of his stomach.

“I could do this myself, Mont.”

“I know you can. I also know you fuckin’ hate jabs, and if I’m ‘round for your weekly dose, I might as well help you out with it.” The dark, curly-haired man retorts with a shrug, giving Charlie no warning before he sinks the needle into his skin. The blond cringes, looking determinedly away from the injection site and instead studying the walls of Monty’s restaurant.

“I’ve gotten better.” Charlie protests, and Monty snorts.

“Better than screaming and running? Yeah. I don’t know why you don’t go for the patch, or gel, since you’re such a chickenshit.”

“They irritate my skin, and they’re better for low T guys.” Charlie retorts, “jabs are my best bet.”

“Fuck. Sucks to be you.”

“Thanks, Monty.” The blond murmurs as the needle pulls free of his skin, and the dark-haired man caps it so that Charlie can dispose of it properly afterwards.

“Gotta rely on others, at least sometimes, Charlie. Speaking of, look, I know a guy. He’d be great for you, y’know? Lemme set you guys up. I know you’d get on.” Monty offers, and Charlie once again cringes.

“You’re trying to set me up on a date? Monty, babe, it’s… it’s too complicated.” He insists, “between the patisserie and working on myself, I haven’t any time for anyone else, anyways.”

Monty rolls his eyes with a dramatic sigh, giving Charlie a gentle shove while the blond pulls his shirt back over his head, covering up hard-earned muscle and golden skin marred only by two thin scars. The definition in Charlie’s pecs doesn’t completely hide his top surgery scars, but he’s no longer ashamed of them, and hasn’t ever really been ashamed in Montgomery’s presence. They’ve healed well, especially now, years after the surgery.

“You can’t use not having any time as an excuse for the rest of your life, Charlie. You have plenty of time, and you can take some of it to go on a date with a hot guy that I can guarantee you’re going to like. C’mon, it’s a Monty guarantee.” The three-star Michelin chef insists, and Charlie groans, “C’mon. Come oooooon, you know you want to say yes.”

“Monty.”

“Charlie.” Monty winks, and the blond groans again, louder, longer, then throws his hands up.

“Fine! God, you’re such a pain in the ass.” Charlie insists, getting up and grabbing his messenger bag, “give him my phone number, and I’ll answer when he reaches out.”

“Good enough for me! See you later, Charles.”

A middle finger answers him, and Monty’s laughter chases Charlie from the restaurant.

“So, the restaurant is thriving. Your front of house staff is stellar, and you’ve got Kaitlin trained up to take over for you when you can’t be there. Adam’s finally starting to get his shit together after Helene dropped his ass. You finally got over that asshole.” Monty muses, and Tony swirls his glass of wine, then takes a sip. They’re both nearly done with their food, having a late lunch together on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, and the conversation has been pleasant up until this point. That could never last with Montgomery Reese, however. The man was nosy to a fault.

“Get to your point, Monty.” Tony requests with a sigh, and the chef laughs, taking a bite of his food. They both enjoy the silence as he chews and swallows, but Tony knows that Monty is simply taking the time to gear himself up to make his point.

“You haven’t been on a date in ages. You’re obviously lonely, and you have nearly no social life outside of your job.” Monty begins, and Tony sighs, swirling his wine and then finishing the glass, “I know a guy that I know you’d like. Someone who isn’t going to be pushy, who would treat you like you deserve to be treated, and who would treasure you. Which you deserve - don’t give me that look, you little shit. You do. You deserve to be treated right, Tony, and you want it.”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose, his jaw tight, but he’s not upset. Reluctant, perhaps.

“Monty, I don’t have t-”

“Don’t you tell me you don’t have time, Tony. Don’t lie to me, man. Listen, I know you’d really like this guy. He’s a good guy, and he would worship you, Tony.” Monty insists, and Tony purses his lips, then nods slowly.

“I trust you, so I will… I’ll try.”

Monty beams, scribbling numbers out onto a napkin, which he tucks into Tony’s jacket pocket, “Call him tonight. You don’t have to go wild on this date, alright? He’s a chill guy. He isn’t expecting anything fancy.”

Tony gaps at the other man with wide eyes, pulling the napkin from his pocket.

“You want me to ask him?”

“He’s expecting it, don’t worry. Just shoot him a text. Be casual about it.” Monty insists, then looks Tony over briefly, “not that you do anything casually. Look, he knows you’re going to reach out. He’s down to go out with you. He isn’t going to say no, and if you don’t like him, you can tell me to go fuck myself and I’ll never try to set you up again.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it, Monty.”

Hi, this is Monty’s friend. Are you available on Friday for dinner?

Charlie stares at the text for a moment, then leans his head back to breathe. Friday. Two days. Two days to panic in the lead up. It could be worse. He washes his hands, drying them on a dish towel, then picks up his phone to respond.

Hey! Sure. What time?

Is seven okay?

Yeah. Do you have somewhere in mind?

There’s a small, family restaurant called Harlowe’s. It’s quiet, and the food is very good.

I’ve passed it a couple times. Always meant to go. I’ll see you there, Friday at seven.

See you then.

Two days.

Two fucking days.

Charlie arrives at Harlowe’s at 18:44 on Friday evening, just over quarter to seven, his hands smoothing down over his dark grey shirt, ensuring it's tucked properly into his trousers to distract the eye from the width of his hips. His belt is purposefully thin, the cut of his black trousers chosen specifically to help even out his waist to hip ratio, while his shirt hugs his thick biceps, broadened chest, and strong shoulders. He looks good, and he knows it, because he sent a fit check to Monty for reassurance and received thirsty emojis in response. He checks his watch, a chunky silver thing Monty bought him for his birthday because ‘Every man needs a watch, Charlie.’

Pushing his hair back, Charlie steps into the pub, oxfords clicking on the wood floor as he strides towards the bar while examining the diners. A man with warm brown hair melting into caramel sits at one of the tables, the sleeves of his light blue shirt rolled up to his elbows to expose his forearms, and his fingers drumming against his glass of water. He catches Charlie’s eye because he’s unmistakably stunning even from a brief look, the veins in his forearms bulging slightly, and he has the balance between muscular and soft that is just so masculine and delicious that Charlie can’t help but lick his lips. Something about him seems oddly familiar, though, and Charlie tilts his head to try and get a better look at him, his eyes widening when the man finally looks up from his glass. Honey brown meets leaf green. Recognition sparks.

“Tony?”

“Ah… I assume you no longer use your old name?”

“Charlie, now, actually. Not so very different from Charlotte.” The blond replies, approaching his old friend with a warm smile on his face. Tony stands from the table, and Charlie can’t help but bite his cheek at the obvious indecision on his face before he reaches out to shake Charlie’s hand. When they worked at Jean-Luc’s together so very long ago, Tony used to greet him with a kiss to his cheeks, his left hand tucked into the curve of his waist. Fondness fizzles like poprocks in Charlie’s gut, and he smiles, squeezing Tony’s hand and using it to pull him in and kiss his cheeks.

“It’s so good to see you, Charlie. After you left, I had wondered…” Tony trails off, and Charlie nods, gesturing for Tony to sit, then sitting across from him. He’s figured out Monty’s game, and he’s impressed with his friend’s sneakiness. Dastardly. Charlie had always held a fondness for Tony. Not a crush, really, especially since Tony was very much in love with Adam Jones who just so happened to be the bane of Charlie’s existence. But Tony was kind, handsome, gentle, and charming. It was hard not to like him.

“I couldn’t be in Paris any longer, Tony. Especially not with that jackass. I moved to Versailles, trained with a maître pâtissier, then worked until I had enough to my name to afford a loan. Moved to London, opened my own patisserie. I ran into Monty a few years ago, and helped him train his staff.” Charlie explains, tracing the grain of the wood tabletop while Tony leans in towards him. Green eyes flick up to look at Tony through dark lashes, examining his expression and body language. Open, warm, and interested. Nothing dangerous, no signs of disgust, and no signs that Tony is anything but pleased to be here.

“You opened your own patisserie? That’s fantastic! Where is it?”

“Fairly close to your hotel, actually, pet.” Charlie replies, reciprocating and leaning a little closer, “on Wisteria Avenue. D’you still drool over piononos? I make them every Sunday.”

Pink rises in Tony’s cheeks as Charlie slips in a common enough but delicious little nickname, but his embarrassed delight is quickly forgotten at the mention of one of his favourite desserts.

“You don’t.”

“I do. Flores de hojaldre every Tuesday. Churros on game days! Footie brings in a lot of business. We rotate our menu since we can’t make everything daily, and we have a lot of customers who come every day, so they like to have variety. We like to bake many different things, and try new ones. Some of our customers have even suggested pastries and breads to try from other countries.”

Tony groans happily, lips turning up into a smile that makes Charlie grin in response.

“I suppose I will need to visit on Sunday.” Tony muses, and Charlie beams at the prospect, making to respond until a waiter interrupts them. After a brief debate, they order several appetizers to share together, and Charlie lets Tony pick drinks for them both. Once the waiter leaves, the two men fall back into an easy conversation about food, Tony’s restaurant, Charlie’s patisserie, and their shared love of the arts.

They discuss the museums and galleries they each would like to go to, the florist across the street from Charlie’s, their shared desire to visit Bournemouth Beach in Dorset during this exceptionally warm summer, and a couple of fantastic jazz bars that they want to visit. Their small plates come mid-discussion about the beach, and Tony clinks his glass against Charlie’s before he takes a sip.

They share easily, play fighting over the last seemingly perfectly made mozzarella stick, feeding each other caprese sticks, goading each other into eating the pub’s famous ‘devil hot’ jalapeño poppers, and then guzzling milk together while they try not to laugh or cry. Tony certainly handles the heat better than Charlie, but they tamp down the remaining burn with fresh spring rolls.

Four drinks, too much food, and nearly three hours of delightful conversation lead the men to circle around to their beginning.

“I’m… surprised Monty didn’t mention us to each other more.” Charlie admits, and Tony agrees, though he quirks his lips a moment later.

“I have been… occupied. He may have…” Tony considers his words, then suddenly starts to smile as the answer dawns upon him, “He may have waited for the opportune moment.”

Charlie grins, reaching across the table to sweep his thumb across Tony’s knuckles before retreating. He doesn’t want to come off overbearing, or like he’s trying too hard to show his interest. It wouldn't be the first time he was told he was ‘too much’. Tony splays his hands across the table to close some of the distance between them, and Charlie smiles.

“Come to my patisserie with me tonight. I’ll make you piononos.” Charlie offers a little more passionately as he notices the time, “I don't want tonight to be over.”

Tony’s cheeks flush pink, and he clears his throat, then nods, “Me neither. Is it far from here? I walked.”

Charlie positively beams.

“I brought my bike, and I have a spare helmet. You can ride with me. It isn’t far.”

“So, you got the motorcycle you always wanted?” Tony muses, and the blond nods, fishing in his pocket until he finds his keys.

“Last year. I had to wait until the shop was profitable enough, but I’ve been really lucky.” Charlie stands, finishing the last of his drink, then practically dashing towards the bar while Tony flusters and tries to chase after him.

“Charlie!”

“I’ve got it, pet, relax.” Charlie insists, handing the cashier his card before Tony can even get his wallet out of his trousers.

“I asked you, I’m meant to pay.” Tony complains, and Charlie shrugs.

“You’ll get us next time.” He retorts, enjoying the way Tony flushes at the blatant implication of a second date. A smile tugs at the Spaniard’s lips, and Charlie winks, grinning cheekily as he drops a significant tip in their tip jar, then pats Tony on the back, “C’mon luv, let’s see if my spare fits you.”

Tony’s stomach is full of champagne bubbles and warmth as he follows Charlie out to a rather nice looking bike parked out front, a faint smile on his lips at even this small show of care and affection from his date. He knows that he hasn’t been treated right in the past - not just by Adam, who never returned his affections in the first place, but by the few partners he’s had as well. He knows that his expectations are probably low, and that he should expect Charlie to treat him this well, but it still feels significant. Special.

Warm hands straighten his head, and Tony leans into it a little before getting the gentlest correction back to looking straight as Charlie puts the helmet on him. It fits well enough, and Charlie’s eyes get a lovely little sparkle when he looks at him wearing it, so Tony decides he’s happy enough to get onto the bike behind the blond. Charlie is broad. When Tony last saw him, he was still presenting mostly female, if more androgynous. He was tall for a person born female, but he had been far more slight. Now, Charlie was as broad as Tony himself, and far more muscular. Tony remembers that Adam used to comment on how gorgeous he was before Charlie cut his hair short and started dressing more masculine. Tony remembers agreeing. Charlie’s angular features had been striking as a woman, and now suited him quite well as a man.

Tony remembers the ruckus that brought him stumbling through the kitchen doors to find Charlie bleeding from the mouth as he was ripped off of the limp body of Adam Jones. He remembers with a certain guilty sadness that he’d checked on Adam first, barely even looked at Charlie despite the tears in his eyes and the bruise forming around his jaw. He remembers Monty wiping the blood from Charlie’s lip while Adam shoved Tony and Michel away. He remembers Adam demanding that Charlie be arrested, until Michel reminded him that he was high off his face, and he’d likely get himself arrested too. Jean-Luc escorted Charlie out himself, though he remembers the blond wavering in the older man’s grip, looking back at the kitchen with something hateful in his eyes.

Tony hadn’t understood then what had happened. Adam ranted and raved about Charlie being a ‘psychotic, ungrateful bitch’ and other hateful things that he wouldn’t ever repeat, but Adam had never admitted what started their fight. He later learned the truth from Monty, long after he’d decided that it seemed like Charlie might have been the aggressor in that situation. He’d won the fight, after all, and Adam was high or drunk or both. Who would hit someone in that state?

The truth, it seemed, was that Adam had come into the kitchen looking for a fight. Charlie was baking, quietly doing his job like he normally did, but had recently cut his long hair extremely short. Adam had long been making attempts on Charlie, from the moment he stepped into Jean-Luc’s kitchen. Continuously rebuffed, and now feeling further slighted by Charlie’s masculinization, he’d begun making snide comments about Charlie ‘hiding herself’ under men’s clothing. The hair appeared to be the last straw. Adam had come up behind Charlie, pinning him in against the counter with his arms while leaning into his ear.

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing to yourself, Charlotte, but I can fix you if you let me. Fuck the faggot right out of you, make you nice and pretty again.” He’d said, and Charlie had let the words sink in before reeling back and slamming the back of his head directly into Adam’s nose. Monty explained that Adam had slammed Charlie’s face down into the table below him, cracking his lip and jaw on the rolling pin he’d been using. Luckily, the blond hadn’t lost any teeth, though he had a scar on his lip to remember it by.

Charlie had kicked out Adam’s knee to get him to back off a bit, then swung around and punched him in the gut. Adam dragged Charlie down with him when he tripped, and Charlie slammed the larger man back against the tile while kneeing him in the balls, tears in his eyes as he dodged a flailing fist and decked Adam in the jaw. Adam had managed to backhand Charlie, but it hadn’t been enough to get him off, and the blond slammed him back down on the tile again before he was pulled off of the dazed and inebriated chef.

Tony remembers how he felt when he heard the truth of what happened, but Adam had run away to New Orleans shortly after, and then the worry became what had happened to the American. He remembers the intense guilt he’d felt as he justified it all in his head when Adam walked back into his life after three long years of not knowing what had happened to the man. He was sober now, and he’d proven himself to be a different person in so many respects, while still terrible in so many others.

Tony had still loved him, at the time, and he had used that love to justify forgiving Adam for something that was unforgivable.

“Holding me pretty tight, pet, y’alright?” Charlie asks loudly, jerking Tony out of his thoughts. He finds himself curled around Charlie’s back, helmet pressed between the blond’s shoulders, squeezing the living daylights out of the poor man.

“Lo siento!” Tony exclaims, and Charlie laughs, shrugging against him.

“S’alright, I don’t mind having you nice and close to me, Tone.”

Sparks erupt in Tony’s belly, and he gives Charlie a gentler squeeze, trying not to smile. It feels like emotional whiplash to go from guilty and sad to flirty and happy so quickly. Charlie pulls up at a bike bay near Wisteria, clipping his helmet onto it, then putting Tony’s into the compartment on the back. The blond slips an arm around Tony’s waist confidently, but not aggressively, more of a reassurance than anything else as he leads him across the rough cobblestone towards the front of the loveliest patisserie he’s ever seen. Definitely no bias there.

“This is it.” Charlie announces, unlocking the door and silencing the alarm, then locking the door again once Tony’s inside. He flicks on the lights to reveal a warm interior with muted, Naples yellow walls, and vibrantly colourful tablecloths on each walnut table. The chairs are comfortable, but not too comfortable. It’s an inviting patisserie, with clean empty display cases and a menu written by hand. Charlie sighs as he looks over his baby, giving Tony’s arm a gentle squeeze before leading him further in through the swinging doors. The back of house is spotless, and Tony wonders at the organisation, impressed that Charlie is able to manage so much with so little. He knows that Charlie only has three employees, and he knows how much work all of this must be.

“Alright, get comfy, pet.” Charlie winks as he puts on his apron, tying it behind his back, then heading into storage to grab what he needs. Tony certainly does not spend a little too long staring at Charlie’s flexing arms as the blond carries a bag over his shoulder effortlessly, and he definitely does not dip his thumb in flour and swipe it across Charlie’s cheek. Thankfully, they don’t make too much of a mess in the ensuing playfight, but Tony does find himself bent backwards over the counter for a moment before Charlie grins cheekily and backs off.

“Alright, enough love, or you’re never going to get your dessert.”

Watching Charlie bake is captivating. He’s always enjoyed watching chefs, but baking is a more delicate art. Precise. While the sponge bakes, Charlie makes the pastry yolk skillfully, never once looking at a recipe. Each step is executed masterfully, and seemingly from memory. Tony helps a little with the syrup just to say he did something other than stare at Charlie with awe and a little bit of hunger in his eyes. That hunger only worsens when Charlie spoons out some of the syrup to let it cool down and Tony accidentally gets syrup on his fingers while trying to pick up the spoon for a taste. Charlie snatches his hand before he can wipe it off, and the blond stares up at him as if checking to make sure Tony’s okay before swirling his tongue around his fingers. A sigh leaves Tony’s lips, eyes half-lidded and breaths short as Charlie closes his lips around the other man’s fingers and sucks the syrup off. Once he’s decided that the Spaniard is clean enough, he releases Tony’s fingers with a hum, licking his lips like he didn’t do anything naughty at all. He washes his hands, a sly grin on his face as he gets back to work, and Tony tries to get control of himself. Something about that had tickled him far more than he’d ever thought it would.

Charlie rolls the sponge, syrup and yolk into an almost cinnamon roll shape once it’s cooled, then crowns each roll with pastry yolk and grills it to finish. He doesn’t let Tony have one right away, popping the tray onto the cooling rack and cleaning up instead. Once they’re suitably cool, Charlie plates one, then slides it across the counter to Tony with a fork.

“Prepare to shower me with compliments, pet.” He says with a smile, getting a box from the little order packing station and packing up the piononos into a box for him. Out of the corner of his eyes, Charlie watches as Tony takes a bite, his eyes rolling back in his head, and a low moan rolling from his throat.

“Charlie…” Tony looks up at Charlie, a look of anguished pleasure on his face, “This is… perfect. Just the right fluffiness, perfectly balanced. Not too sweet that it becomes cloying.”

The blond listens with a smile, watching Tony’s face to admire the way he lights up. He’s so handsome. Caramel in his chocolate hair, honey-brown eyes, the tiniest little waist, and moon-pale skin covered in the prettiest freckles and moles. Charlie can’t believe that Tony fucking Balerdi agreed to go on a date with him and was still sticking around.

“I know, pet, I know. And now you’ve got a whole box of ‘em,” Charlie says as he wraps a bow around the box, then pushes it into Tony’s hands, getting a little more serious, “have you had a good time tonight?”

Tony’s cheeks burn, but he smiles shyly and nods, “Yeah, Charlie, I have. Have you had a good time tonight?”

“I have, guapo. So, are you gonna let me take you out again?” While it’s said with a good amount of charm, Tony can see the hesitance in Charlie’s eyes, as if he fears a negative reaction. It tugs at his heartstrings, and he feels a certain kinship with the other man.

“I suppose you will have to ask.” Tony replies with a cheeky and relatively obvious smile, his cheeks flushed. Charlie hums, reaching up to brush his thumb across Tony’s cheek as if he’s wiping away a spot of something.

“How soon is too soon to ask for a second date?” Charlie asks, and Tony’s flush deepens, pupils dilating a little, “I know it’s Saturday, so I know it’s a busy night, but there’s a movie night in the local park tomorrow and they’re playing an artsy film I’ve heard good things about.”

“You can pick me up at the hotel, and I will bring something for us to eat.” Tony replies matter-of-factly, “You will bring dessert, and a blanket to sit on. Yes?”

Charlie’s grin could light up the sun, and he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous but pleased laugh, “Yeah, pet, I’ll bring it all. Let me give you a ride home, yeah? Walk you to your door all gentlemanly like.”

And he does. After a short ride back to his place in which he swears Tony holds him a little closer than before, Charlie leads his date to the door of his condo building and boldly puts a hand on his waist the way Tony always did to him back in the day. Tony’s breath hitches as Charlie leans in, looking just a little bit disappointed as he presses a gentle kiss to Tony’s cheek. As Charlie leans in for the other cheek, Tony closes his eyes briefly, and he twists his head as Charlie pulls away so that their lips ghost across each other. It’s soft, intimate, and so fast it’s like it never even happened. Charlie closes the distance between them, unwilling to let that ghost of a kiss be all they had tonight. Not after how easily things flowed all night, how well they got on, and how right it felt to be with Tony. It’s a gentle thing, just a soft moving of Charlie’s lips against Tony’s that only lasts a couple of seconds before he’s pulling back again.

“Have a good night, caramelo.”

“Goodnight, cariño.”

Tony spends the better half of his Saturday arranging for Kaitlin to be able to cover the front of house for the evening, and dodging calls from Monty, who seems to have forgotten how to text in his excitement to hear about how last night went. Charlie sent a ‘Good morning caramelo’ text at 5 am, which Tony did not receive until the much more reasonable hour of half past seven. He did, however, receive a knock at his door at eight am and a giggly ginger girl dropping off a brown paper bag for him ‘courtesy of the boss’. Which was, of course, concerning until he opened it and found breakfast inside with a note from Charlie.

I know you forget to eat, and I doubt that has changed. Coffee is not food, caramelo. See you tonight. x Charlie

It’s sweet. Thoughtful in a way Tony hadn’t expected, but perhaps should have, since he knew Charlie to be kind even way back when Tony had his head up Adam’s ass. The croissant breakfast sandwiches, fondue babka and fresh fruit tarts inside are a welcome gift, and Tony starts his day with a smile on his face despite the bullshit he finds himself getting into when he gets to work. It doesn’t help that Monty remembers the existence of text messages right in time to send Charlie’s social media profiles over, and Tony opens his instagram to find another delicious treat awaiting him.

The photo is taken in a mirror in a decently sized but cluttered bathroom, the phone visibly propped up on the shelves behind Charlie. The man himself stands in front of the mirror in only a towel, one hand sweeping his hair back out of his face while the other holds the knot of the towel to keep it from slipping. It’s low enough on the man’s hips that it just might. His top surgery scars aren’t too big, and are mostly hidden in the line of Charlie’s pecs, which are undeniably well-sculpted. He doesn’t have a six pack, but his musculature is obvious in both his stomach and his arms, and he’s angled himself to show off both. Tony is delighted to find that Charlie’s been able to grow a rather delicious treasure trail, though the hair on his chest is minimal. Charlie stares into the mirror in the photo, his shaving kit set out across the counter before him, clearly freshly shaven. A straight razor, Tony notes.

The caption is simple: ‘Pampering myself this morning in prep for a date tonight with one of the hottest guys I’ve ever met. Wish me luck that I don’t fuck it up - he’s way too good for me.’ with several hashtags that Tony ignores because he’s far too focused on the message itself. His cheeks are pink, and he rubs his mouth to try and hide his obvious embarrassed delight. Kaitlin simply raises her eyebrows at him from the hostess desk, a knowing look in her eyes that unnerves him.

Feel free to scroll. Charlie’s a bit of a thirst-trapper, but his insta is a great way to wake up in the morning. ;) ;) ;)

Tony is going to have to strangle Monty next time he sees him. It simply must be done.

At a quarter past eight in the evening, Charlie pulls up outside of the Langham on his bike, kicking down the stand and pulling off his helmet to clip it onto the bike. He sends Tony a quick text to let him know that he’s here, then heads inside the restaurant, tucking his hands into the pockets of his tight black trousers. A redheaded woman, Kaitlin if he wasn’t mistaken, looks up at him with a smile which quickly fades as her eyes trail over Charlie. Her lips part as she takes in the expanse of golden skin exposed by the half-unbuttoned, nearly see-through white shirt he’s wearing tucked into his trousers. She regains her smile, though not her customer service smile, as Charlie approaches.

“Good evening, welcome to the Langham. Do you have a reservation sir?”

“Y’alright, doll? I’m here for Tony. Mind letting him know?” Charlie requests, and Kaitlin smiles warmly. Knowingly.

“Of course.”

Tony appears only a few minutes later, a box in his arms and a bottle of wine tucked under his arm. He pauses a few steps away, his gaze trailing over Charlie from head to toe before he continues to make his way towards him. Similarly, Charlie stares at Tony as he approaches in his perfectly tailored grey suit, though he recovers a little quicker than Tony, leaning in to kiss the Spaniard’s cheeks in greeting as he slips an arm around his waist.

“Dios mio, caramelo, are you trying to stop my heart?” Charlie asks dramatically, and Kaitlin giggles as they pass her. He throws a wink her way, squeezing Tony’s waist, who smiles sheepishly with warm, pink cheeks.

“You’re laying it on thick, guapo.” Tony teases playfully, “coming into my restaurant with your shirt open to your navel.”

“Did you like that?” Charlie asks, taking the box and bottle from Tony, popping them into the storage in his bike, “If you wanna take your jacket off, I’ve got space.”

The maitre d’ takes off his jacket, followed by his tie, and finally his belt. He unbuttons his shirt a few buttons, then unbuttons his cuffs and rolls his sleeves up. Charlie watches him get comfortable, leaning against his bike with a smile on his face, before he finally straightens up and approaches. Warm hands close around Tony’s waist, though one travels up to cup his face as Charlie leans in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s a soft thing, but more than their previous kiss, and Tony hums into it when Charlie nips his lip before pulling away.

“You taste sweet, pet. Mmm, okay, c’mon, I don’t want to be late. I wanna get a good spot so we can get comfortable. I brought blankets.” Charlie hands Tony his helmet, then closes the storage and climbs onto the bike, putting his own helmet on. Tony climbs on behind him after pulling on his helmet, and Charlie sighs happily as strong arms wrap around his waist.

The drive to the park isn’t very long, and Charlie pulls a backpack out of the storage compartment, handing the wine over to Tony along with a bag from his patisserie. The box containing their food, he carries himself, using it to indicate a couple of good spots to set up. Tony ends up picking a spot that’s further back, under a tree, and together the two men spread out the thicker blanket that Charlie brought as a base layer. Tony sets their food down with the bottle of wine beside it, full of endearment to find that Charlie has brought them both pillows. Clearly, Charlie thought ahead, for he’s brought the blankets and pillows in vacuum-sealed bags, with a small battery-powered pump to suck the air back out when they have to leave.

Tony laughs as Charlie smacks him gently with one of the pillows, then tosses the extra blanket down and sits beside him. Tony ordered them quite a bit of food to share, getting Helene to cook off-menu by promising to babysit Lily sometime for her, and he opens the box to set it out for them both. Tony tells Charlie about his day while they eat, pausing only when Charlie breaks off a piece of his own meal to feed him, and from the softness in his eyes he’s certainly enjoying it. While Charlie talks briefly about his day, which largely went as normal since he works early mornings most days. Tony follows his lead and interrupts him to feed him, a little more hesitant than Charlie, though he licks his lips when Charlie pauses to suck a drop of sauce off of his finger.

The movie starts as they’re finishing their very, very late dinner, and Charlie opens the bag he brought to reveal a sugar pastries meant to be dipped, along with a couple of containers of icing, whip cream, chocolate, caramel, and a berry syrup. This late at night, even with the light from the projector screen, it’s quite dark. Charlie uses the cover of darkness to swipe caramel across Tony’s lower lip, then kiss it off, cupping the Spaniard’s cheek gently as he gasps. He pulls away just enough to whisper, “Is this okay, caramelo?”

Tony sighs happily, eyes half-lidded as he kisses Charlie again, “Es bueno, cariño.”

It's a slow build of gentle caresses, a learning of each other, and they part to breathe slowly. Charlie kisses the point of Tony’s cheek, then dips a pastry in syrup and tops it with whip cream, offering it to his date. Tony occasionally feeds Charlie, however he does have to admit that he is the one who eats most of their dessert. How is he meant to say no when Charlie is so gentle with feeding him, and looking at him with those pretty green eyes, clearly enjoying himself just as much as Tony? Besides, this time, he gets the chance to lick a drop of chocolate from Charlie’s knuckles, or suck his fingers clean when he gets a bit messy.

By the time they’re done dessert, Tony finds himself half-hard and laying back between Charlie’s legs, who has propped himself up against the tree with pillows to protect his back. Charlie’s fingers run peacefully through Tony’s hair, not necessarily helping the situation, but he won’t dare to protest when it feels so nice. He’s covered by a plush blanket to keep away the worsening evening chill. Partway through the film, Charlie leans in to Tony’s ear, commenting on how he saw the film crew shooting it a few years back, and Tony shivers at the feeling of the blond’s breath against his skin. His cheeks burn, and he adjusts himself as subtly as he can, but Charlie seems to catch on despite his efforts. Plush lips close around the tip of Tony’s ear, and he hisses at the gentle scrape of teeth.

“You’ve no idea how lush you are, do ya, pet? No fuckin’ idea. Taking everything I have not to come on too strong, Tony. You gotta tell me if I do, okay?” Charlie whispers against the skin behind his ear, pressing a gentle kiss there that makes Tony squirm in the best way.

“You’re not.” The Spaniard insists despite his pink cheeks and blown pupils, nuzzling into Charlie in a way that makes the other man practically purr.

“I haven’t done this in a while. Dated. But I’d like to be yours, pet. Like you to be mine too. Is this too soon to make things exclusive?” Charlie asks, and Tony twists a little to face him, shaking his head. There’s a softness in his honey eyes, and a tenderness in his shy little smile.

“It’s not too soon. I’d like that. I… I don’t really do casual.” Tony admits, and Charlie grins, cupping his cheek and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Neither do I, pet, neither do I.”

It isn’t a surprise that with their relationship now official and exclusive, the boys find themselves feeling secure… and perhaps a bit amorous, considering the way Tony straddles Charlie’s lap. Charlie strokes his thighs gently as they kiss, slow and soft but building heat, and he’s thankful he chose a place so far back from the screen where almost no one else has chosen to sit. Tony lets out a quiet moan as the blond leans up to kiss him a little deeper, his stomach brushing against the hard line of his cock through his trousers. Buzzing makes them both jump, and Tony rushes to fish his phone out of his pocket, extra surprised simply because he’d been deeply into the shameless snogging they’d been doing. He fumbles to answer it, lips pursed in distaste at the sight of who is calling him.

“I told you to only call me if the restaurant was on fire. Is it on fire?” Tony asks instead of greeting the caller, and Charlie kisses the maitre d’ on the chin to soothe his agitation.

“Well, no, but-” Charlie hears Kaitlin’s voice answer, and he grins, trailing a couple more kisses along Tony’s jaw now that he knows there isn’t an emergency.

“No? Then I am not to be disturbed.” Tony answers while running his fingers through Charlie’s hair, getting a gentle grip and guiding his lips down to his throat.

“Look, Tony, Adam is throwing a hissy that you're not here. He thinks the service will fail without you. He’s been yelling at everyone from the front of house that goes into the kitchen.”

“Ah.” Tony takes a breath while Charlie strokes his hips, mumbling something about ‘Of course the prick is.’ against the Spaniard’s pulse, “Give Adam the phone.”

There is a long pause after Kaitlin thanks him and apologises, and then the sound of clanging as she enters the kitchen. Immediately, Adam begins to yell, steadily growing louder until it sounds as if Kaitlin shoves the phone at him. Charlie scoffs at the sounds, nibbling on Tony’s earlobe and sucking it into his mouth while Tony shivers against him.

“Tony-” Adam begins, but Tony cuts him off immediately, and the intensity of his voice has Charlie getting just a little bit clingy with his new partner.

“Adam, do not question my staffing decisions. If I place someone in charge of the front of house, then they are as capable as I am, understood? I will not hear about you yelling at my staff again tonight, comprendito?” Tony lectures the chef like he’s a child, and Charlie moans quietly against his throat, revelling in it enough that Tony actually smirks.

“It’s Saturday, Tony, you need to be here to keep shit running properly.” Adam attempts, but Tony gives a sharp tch and rolls his eyes.

“Only an idiot would run a business in such a way that he could not have a day off, even on a busy day, without the place falling apart. Kaitlin is fully capable, and you are being a petulant child. I have important plans tonight, and I won’t give you any more of my time.” Tony retorts sharply, his accent only growing thicker the longer he talks. Practically purring at the way Tony cuts Adam down, Charlie nuzzles his nose against Tony’s jaw and begins to let out soft little moans, mostly fake but somewhat encouraged by the way he gently grinds against Tony’s thigh. Tony has to struggle not to laugh at the strangled noise Adam makes in response, his hand sweeping up and down Charlie’s back, his cheeks growing pink as he begins to feel the heat of Charlie’s cunt through the leg of his trousers.

“Tony-”

“You will not call me, or ask Kaitlin to call me, unless there is an emergency. We will speak about this tomorrow.” Tony cuts him off again, angling his thigh for Charlie to better grind on him, which draws a more honest groan from the blond’s plush lips.

“.... Are you on a date?”

“How is that any of your business, Adam? Ahora, vete a la mierda.”

“Fuuuck Tony.” Charlie moans in the background, both because of what he’s saying to a man that Charlie rightfully hates, but also, because Tony gripped his hip and yanked him down harder on his thigh to get a firmer drag. Adam makes a disgusted noise over the phone, and Tony hangs up, tucking his phone away and dragging Charlie up into a heated kiss. It draws a rumbly moan from the patissier, eager to have such a strong sign of Tony’s desire, as if his hard-on wasn’t enough. Truthfully, Charlie felt more secure with as many signs of Tony’s desire and affection as possible after several not-so-great past relationships.

“Did you enjoy that, mi bizcocho?” The Spaniard asks, and Charlie hums his approval against his lips, kissing him again, then nipping his bottom lip. Charlie guides Tony back, moving the pillows to the top of the blanket so that they can lay down and be a little bit more discreet. They move together easily, almost intuitively, as they untangle their legs without kneeing each other in the groin and Charlie thanks God for the cover of darkness because he’s fairly sure there’s a wet spot on Tony’s pant leg. Something about the idea of that - of Tony feeling his heat and wetness - drives the blond a little wild.

Charlie presses Tony back into the makeshift bed, laying down beside him and pulling the blanket up over them both. Tony scoots closer, tucking himself into Charlie’s side while the blond strokes his back soothingly. With gentle hands, Charlie guides Tony’s thigh over his, his other arm wrapping around his shoulders to gently hold him. Once Tony is situated, Charlie cups his cheek and kisses him softly, sweet as sugar even as the Spaniard starts to grind against his thigh. It’s all plush lips, questing tongues, panting breaths, and the slow, hot grind of Tony’s cock against Charlie’s thigh.

Charlie pins Tony’s thigh between his own as he notices the Spaniard getting closer, grabbing his plump little ass and squeezing gently as they devour each other. Licking into Tony’s mouth, Charlie swallows his date’s moan as his hips jerk once, twice, and then his entire body stiffens. It takes very little effort for Charlie to adjust Tony to make him more comfortable in his arms, stroking his back and pressing kisses to his pliant mouth. He’s thrilled that Tony doesn’t try to reciprocate, sleepy in his satiated state, and the two cuddle through the rest of the film.

Over the next few weeks, Charlie and Tony speak daily, though they’re only able to go on a few more dates due to their busy schedules. They get a quick lunch together a couple of times, with barely enough time to sit down to eat before one of them has to run off back to work. They visit the British Museum together on a cloudy afternoon, and Tony blushes up a storm when Charlie reaches out to tangle their fingers together. They get coffee from Tony’s favourite bougie coffee shop, and Charlie dots the crema from his double espresso across Tony’s lips before licking it off and kissing him mid-laugh.

A week later, Tony pops his head into the patisserie just after the typical breakfast rush, and Ollie grins at the sight of him, clearly aware of who he is. It isn’t a surprise - Charlie has taken plenty of photos of them together, though he hasn’t posted any to his social media yet at Tony’s request, and he asked for permission to tell his staff about their relationship. Tony likes Charlie’s employees. Sano is nurturing and patient but good at kicking Charlie’s ass when he needs it, Saoirse breathes life and fun into every moment at the patisserie with both her vibrant personality and her talent, and Ollie is the most charming and socially proficient man that Tony has ever met. Frankly, he’d love to steal Ollie for his restaurant if he wasn’t Charlie’s employee.

“Boss! Your caramelo is here!” Ollie calls teasingly, having quickly picked up on Charlie’s preferred pet name for his boyfriend and decided it was the perfect thing to tease him endlessly about. Saoirse pops her head out of the double doors to offer Tony a wide, gap-toothed smile.

“Tony! Ay up my duck?” She croons, opening the display case to pick out a mini strawberry cheesecake in a frilly muffin liner and hold it out to him, “On the house, dearie, since the bossman wears you out.”

“Ollie. Saoirse. Good to see you.” Tony replies with a warm smile, taking the offered cheesecake and popping it into his mouth just as Charle pushes through the doors from the back.

“Are you feeding him sugar? He needs something substantial, Saoirse, not sugar. My caramelo probably hasn’t had anything but coffee this morning.” Charlie chides while Tony hurries to chew as if Charlie might try to make him spit out the cheesecake. The patissier pulls a bun out of the display case and heads into the back, while Saoirse giggles and holds a finger to her lips while she sets the coffee machine to begin brewing an espresso for Tony. By the time the espresso is finished and in Tony’s hands, Charlie returns from the back with a hot sandwich wrapped up. He grips Tony’s waist in one big hand, leaning in to kiss him boldly even in front of his employees and the one or two patrons of the patisserie.

Something warm and pleased blooms in his stomach at the openness. Tony has had relationships in which his partner was ashamed of their queerness, and the relationship, but Charlie has always found an easy balance where they don’t engage in over the top PDA, but Tony never feels neglected.

“Thank you for the late breakfast. I was on my way to a meeting for work, and saw the line dwindle. I thought I’d stop by.” Tony explains, and Charlie presses a fond kiss to his temple.

“You’re always welcome, even if we are busy. I always have time for you, caramelo.”

And isn’t that a wonderful thing?

Charlie arrives at the Langham at half-past six on a warm Friday evening. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, though he’s liberally shaken them out to rid them of even the smallest bit of flour or sugar. He’s dressed simply in black pants and a light green button-up, but it’s enough to get into the restaurant even if he wasn’t Tony’s boyfriend. Kaitlin greets him at the front desk with a warm smile, indicating that Tony is talking to Adam in the kitchen, so Charlie heads through the dining room, calm but deliberate.

Adam catches sight of him first from where his head is peeked out through the kitchen doors, and Charlie ignores him as he slips up behind Tony, wrapping a hand around his trim waist and kissing his cheek from behind.

“Hola, mi caramelo.”

Tony flushes, and Adam frowns, looking between the two with his brows nearly to his hairline.

“Hola, querido. I’m almost done.” Tony replies, and Charlie nods, giving him another squeeze before letting him go so he can stare down Adam.

“This is your…” Adam trails off, and Tony raises an eyebrow. Charlie can practically feel the spicy Spanish side of him coming out.

“My boyfriend? Yes.”

“And, what, he’s eating here tonight, or?” Adam asks, and Tony rolls his eyes.

“No, he is here to pick me up. I am off this weekend, as of… five minutes ago.” Tony retorts, and Adam stiffens.

“You’re taking another weekend off? Tony, it's our busiest time! You can’t just go off with your boyfriend here every weekend.” Adam snaps, and Tony puts a hand out when Charlie straightens his posture and takes a step closer protectively.

“I have already warned you not to question my staffing decisions. I have not taken a weekend off in over a month, not that it should be any concern to you. Get back to service, chef.” Tony replies dismissively, turning to walk away. Adam reaches for his arm, but Charlie pushes his hand down and away, stepping in between them seamlessly. He looks Adam up and down, then huffs a soft laugh.

“And they say you’ve changed. Perhaps you’re only a better liar. You’re still the same Adam underneath it all.” Charlie muses, then steps away, putting a hand on Tony’s lower back to lead him out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Adam calls after them, but neither man stops. Once they get outside, Tony pins Charlie to the fence and steals a passionate, fiery kiss, practically devouring his lips. Charlie moans into it, gripping his waist in one hand and letting the other trail back into Tony’s hair. They don’t break apart until a passerby whistles at them, and by then, Charlie’s plush lips are pink, his eyes half-lidded with desire. Tony pants for breath against him, giving his cheek a gentle stroke with his thumb before he finally pulls away.

“What was that for?” Charlie asks, blinking, a blatantly lovestruck look on his face, “so I can do it again.”

Tony laughs, taking Charlie’s hand and gently leading him down the street to where he parked his bike.

“You handled that really well. You were protective but not overly, you stepped in when you had to, and I appreciate that you knew when to step in. I appreciate that you didn’t escalate.” Tony replies, and Charlie squeezes his waist, then gets Tony’s helmet out. The ride to Tony’s condo is short, and the Spaniard gives an excited smile with flushed cheeks as Charlie pulls his overnight bag out of the storage container on his bike. They’d agreed to have a sleepover a few days back due to Charlie’s annoyance that Tony didn’t seem to know how to do any form of selfcare, and Tony’s insistence that selfcare meant falling asleep in his boyfriend’s arms.

Charlie follows Tony up to his condo, slipping an arm around his waist from behind once they’re through the door, and kicking it closed behind him. He presses Tony back into the wall of the front entrance, kissing him softly while smoothing his hands over his sides. Tony gasps as Charlie begins to pull the shirt from his waistband, sliding his hands underneath it to stroke over the Spaniard's bare stomach. Warm, rough hands slide up to cup over Tony’s ribs, then run down his back.

“You’re so tense, caramelo. I could feel it in your back. You’ve been working too hard.” Charlie purrs, and Tony blinks lazily at his boyfriend as those big, warm hands soothingly trace over his entire body. He melts into Charlie’s hands, letting out a soft sigh as Charlie nips and kisses his way across Tony’s jaw and throat.

“It’s been busy at the restaurant. You know already since I’ve been waking you up with my late night texts, but I’ve been getting home at stupid hours. My back has been sore for a couple of days.” Tony explains, and Charlie pouts a little while rubbing his hips.

“Go sit in front of the sofa, yeah? I’ll rub your back and shoulders while we watch a movie.” The blond promises, and Tony hums eagerly, leaning in to kiss Charlie softly on his way into the living room. They get settled in the living room with Tony on the ottoman and Charlie on the couch behind him. He strips off his shirt and undershirt, and Charlie warms up some oil between his hands before he reaches out and starts to rub Tony’s shoulders. Skilled thumbs press out a knot in Tony’s shoulder blade, another in his lower back, then slowly rolling up his spine.

“My poor man, look at you. All worn out. They’re working you too hard, aren’t they, pet?” Charlie asks, and Tony leans back into his hands, letting his eyes fall closed. He moans lowly as Charlie works at his back, soothing his pain and working out knots, kinks, and sore spots. Once Tony is loose and soft in Charlie’s hands, the blond easily lifts the Spaniard from the ottoman and pulls him into his lap. Tony groans softly as he’s lifted, mumbling about getting Charlie’s shirt oily, only to find himself pulled into a bare chest. He moans softly, easing up in an instant and turning to jelly against Charlie’s warm torso.

“Relax, sweetheart.” Charlie encourages, and Tony nuzzles his face into bare, golden-tanned skin, letting himself be soothed.

“So good to me, querido.”

Hours later, after a short nap and a hearty dinner, Charlie pins Tony’s hair back out of his face and rubs foamy cleanser into his cheeks. He uses a warm, wet towel to clean it off, then massages a hydrating face mask into the Spaniard’s skin, keeping his hands moving until Tony nearly moans from the relaxation. Once the mask is wiped off, Charlie follows it up with an essence to protect his skin, a nourishing serum to give him some bounce, and then a hydrating moisturizer to repair his skin barrier. Tony moans and sighs his way through every part of the facial, soothed and pampered behind belief. He doesn’t even complain about how long it takes, too pleased to have his boyfriend paying so much attention to him. They’ve long since changed into their pyjamas - a t-shirt and boxers for Charlie, and a silky navy pyjama set for Tony.

Once he’s done with the pampering session, Charlie lets Tony lead him into the bedroom and they crawl onto the bed together to cuddle and chat before bed with the backdrop of a baking show Charlie likes to criticise relentlessly. The conversation flows easily, even as it gets more intense, beginning with Tony ranting about some of his work troubles and eventually ending up on the topic of their relationship. Charlie introduced a habit his therapist had suggested, in which they would gently check in on their relationship without fear of judgement, and it had done wonders for their comfort with each other.

“What do you think is going well so far?” Charlie asks, and Tony hums, nuzzling his face into the side of Charlie’s pec.

“I’m comfortable. I feel safe. You make me feel seen, and understood. You make me feel secure in our relationship. I love that you send me good morning texts and good night texts even if we’re not getting up or going to bed at the same time.” Tony muses, stretching luxuriously beside him.

“I feel the same. I like that we touch base even when we’re both busy, but I don’t feel like I have to rush to text you back if I’m in the middle of something. I’ve told you before, but I worried originally that because you knew me before I transitioned, that you might still see me as a woman, but you make me feel so secure in who I am. I never feel like I have to justify or prove my masculinity with you.” Charlie replies, pressing his face into Tony’s hair and kissing the top of his head, “What do you feel like we can improve on?”

Tony hums softly, considering, then finally looks up into Charlie’s eyes to gauge how his words land, “We could… be a bit more intimate.”

Charlie’s cheeks flush, his pupils expanding at the mere thought.

“Yeah? You think you’re ready for that?” He asks, and Tony nods.

“I’m ready. I trust you, and I feel safe, and I want you. You know how I feel for you.” He murmurs with heat in his eyes, and Charlie flushes, “Are you ready? I’ll wait, querido, I don’t want to make you feel rushed either.”

“How do you feel about bottoming?” The blond asks instead of answering, and Tony recognises the briefest look of hesitance, followed by the obvious lust and fondness that Charlie has never hidden from him.

“I don’t mind bottoming. I’ve done both, and each has its… advantages.” Tony muses, and Charlie’s body language loosens up. He strokes his fingertips over Tony’s knuckles, then cups his cheek and strokes his cheek.

“So, you don’t expect me to bottom just because I’ve got a-” Charlie begins, but Tony interrupts him, stroking his thumb over the blond’s lips to silence him.

“No, Charlie, I don’t. At all. If you want to top, and if that would make you feel more comfortable, I’m perfectly happy with that.” Tony replies honestly, sitting up a little and pulling him in for a kiss, “whatever makes you the most comfortable.”

Charlie kisses him back softly, slowly, then breaks it to lean over Tony a little and pet his cheek.

“I’m sorry for probing you instead of answering the question myself. I… I’ve had people make assumptions, and I was scared. Truthfully, I want you to fuck me, pet. I haven’t wanted that before, really, you know? And I’d like to fuck you, too.” The blond explains, and Tony listens with honest consideration on his face.

“Then, we should talk about our boundaries and preferences.” Tony prompts, sliding his leg over Charlie’s thigh and cuddling up to him, “for example, what words do you prefer that we use?”

Charlie’s cheeks go pink, but he strokes his hand up and down Tony’s lower back, “I prefer if you call my clit my cock, or dick. My vagina… either boypussy, boy cunt, or front hole.”

Tony nods, rubbing his hand in little circles on Charlie’s stomach as he listens, and doing his best to commit that to mind.

“Would you prefer anal?” Tony asks, and Charlie flushes at the dirty word from his sweet maitre d’ boyfriend’s mouth, but laughs at the thought, shrugging.

“I don’t mind anal, but it feels better with my front hole. I don’t have a prostate back there like you do.” Charlie reminds him, sliding his hand down to give Tony’s ass a gentle but firm squeeze that has his boyfriend laughing against his chest.

“I like it soft. Gentle. Not lacking in passion, but overflowing in it, and in tenderness. It is not… a popular preference, I suppose, but it is what I like.” Tony explains, and Charlie hums, one hand gripping the Spaniard’s ass while the other strokes his thigh.

“Gentle suits you, pet. As does softness.” Charlie comments while squeezing the meat of Tony’s thigh teasingly, “I like gentle too. I’ve never been one for the rough stuff. I just want to make you feel good, Tony.”

“Big, strong guy but you’re just a softie under all that muscle, aren’t you?” Tony muses, skimming his hands under Charlie’s shirt to stroke his stomach and chest. The blond snorts, even as Tony props his chin up on Charlie’s ribs and smiles playfully at him.

“Have you ever slept with…” Charlie trails off, trying to figure out how to word his question properly, but Tony seems to have him worked out.

“No, I’ve never slept with a person with a vagina.”

“Does it bother you?”

“I entered this relationship eagerly, with open eyes, mi querido. It does not bother me, except that I perhaps will not know how to make you feel good. But, that will not stop me from trying.” Tony replies, and Charlie lets his head fall back at just the thought of Tony trying to take care of him. He trails his fingers up and down the Spaniard’s spine, wetting his lips and willing himself to calm down despite the topic at hand. He evidently fails, his cheeks hot and his clit throbbing as Tony shifts his weight atop him.

“I have an implant.” Charlie says quite suddenly, and Tony smiles knowingly, propping himself up on his elbows. It’s funny how Charlie can go from being the most smooth, charming man in the world to a complete mess so easily. Tony can see the open desire in his boyfriend’s eyes, pupils blown wide enough to nearly block out the colour of his pretty green irises. His cheeks are pink, chest rising and falling rapidly, and Tony knows he’s in the same boat.

“That is good. We are both clean, and you are protected.” Tony feigns ignorance, and Charlie swallows hard, gripping the Spaniard’s ass and squeezing.

“Tony…”

“Ahh, am I teasing too much?”

“C’mere, pet.” Charlie insists, pulling at Tony’s sleep shirt as he obediently crawls up over the blond’s prone body, and moaning into the gentle kiss that his boyfriend catches him in. Heat builds quickly as Tony licks into Charlie’s mouth, his hips pressing between his lover’s legs. Strong thighs clench around Tony’s hips, and he moans deeply, letting himself grind into the slick heat between Charlie’s legs. All worry about not being good enough, or not knowing what to do simply fades from his mind as Charlie’s hands dig into his back, then yank his sleep shirt over his head. To have his boyfriend, his lover, this desperate for him is empowering.

“Let’s begin our lessons, mi bizcocho.” Tony whispers against Charlie’s lips, and the blond is quick to grasp at his bare skin. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d think Charlie’s pupils had turned into heart-shapes with the way he’s looking at him. Riding the high of his partner’s desire matching his own, Tony helps Charlie out of his shirt, then hooks his fingers into his boxers. Soft kisses pepper across Charlie’s tummy as he obediently lifts his hips so that Tony can undress him, and the Spaniard does well not to remark on the wet spot on Charlie’s boxers. He kisses his way up to Charlie’s top surgery scars, licking across the pink skin and watching with amused fondness as his boyfriend’s cheeks burn peachy pink under the warm lighting.

“Ayyy, qué rico.” Tony purrs, and Charlie bites his knuckle.

Charlie’s nipples are dark nude-ish pink, small and by all accounts not very sensitive, but Tony laves his tongue across them regardless, sucking each bud into his mouth and then scraping his teeth across them just to hear his lover gasp.

“With the right touch, you can be responsive.” Tony teases, and Charlie groans at the sudden burst of confidence and charm from his boyfriend, chest heaving beneath his attentions. He’s letting Tony play for now, and get used to his body before he responds in kind. For now, he simply combs his fingers through Tony’s hair, or strokes at his shoulders encouragingly.

“Tell me if anything is uncomfortable.” Tony requests as he lays kiss after kiss in a trail of wet marks down the length of Charlie’s stomach, parting his boyfriend’s legs with a gentle touch, “I hear it can be more sensitive while you’re on T?”

“Way more. I’m easily twice as horny as I was before I transitioned, and touching feels good in ways it didn’t before.” Charlie admits, combing Tony’s hair back out of his face adoringly. The Spaniard smiles, kisses his palm softly, then nestles down between Charlie’s thighs to spread him open with his thumbs.

“You smell good.” Tony murmurs, and Charlie snorts his surprise at the comment, the sensation of Tony’s thumbs stroking up and down over his labia majora sending shivers down his spine. Being stared at so intimately is a weird sensation, but Charlie allows it because he knows that Tony hasn’t had any experience with a vagina before. Honestly, a part of it feels kind of good - to be examined this closely, and still be found male and desirable.

He jumps as Tony runs a gentle finger down over his labia, feeling the texture and humming thoughtfully, deep in his throat. He taps against the side of Charlie’s clit, and the blond hisses air through his teeth, hips flexing. Charlie will never believe that Tony didn’t watch any porn for inspiration, because Tony pinches his engorged clit between his finger and thumb, stroking the looser skin of his hood over the sensitive skin in a way that makes Charlie nearly choke on a moan. At the positive response, Tony gains a bit of confidence and flicks his tongue across the tip, causing Charlie to cry out as his head slams back into the pillows.

“Fuck, Tony!”

“It is the same as any cock, mi bizcocho. Let me make you feel good, and then we’ll see how many fingers it takes before you can fit my cock inside you, si?”

Charlie pants, blinking up at the ceiling and wondering what he did right in the world to be given Tony in return. He’s going to have to give Monty a fucking gift basket or something. His back snaps into a dramatic arch as Tony plants an arm across his hips to hold him down, stroking his clit in slow, deliberate movements that have Charlie grasping at the sheets. Tony watches as his boyfriend’s cheeks flush dark, sweat beading on his forehead as he takes everything he’s given. It’s oddly endearing to see his charming, flirty lover so taken apart.

“Tony, love, feels so good.” Charlie moans, curling the sheets around his fingers and gasping for breath as Tony rolls the flat of his tongue across his clit.

“Breathe, cariño.”

Charlie does his best, but it becomes plenty more difficult when Tony sucks his clit into his mouth and starts to suck it slowly, mimicking a blowjob. His fingers clench in Tony’s hair, and the Spaniard hums his pleasure, cracking open his eyes to survey Charlie’s expression. The blond’s hips jump as Tony pushes his middle finger into him, slowly enough that he can feel the thick digit parting his insides. Luckily, while Charlie prefers using his stroker toy or a grinding pad, he has indulged himself in a dildo relatively often over the last couple of months. Especially recently, with Tony in mind. The stretch isn’t too much, and he’s wet enough despite the years on T - he’s lucky that he hasn’t suffered from vaginal dryness to the same degree as others he knows.

And if anyone could get Charlie wet, it was Tony fucking Balerdi. Tony, who despite never having touched a vagina before, was sucking his cock so sweetly and making his mind melt. Who felt the accommodating warmth of Charlie’s cunt wet and soft around his finger and promptly added another. Who listened to the loud groan from his boyfriend when his fingertips skimmed over Charlie’s g-spot and without even knowing what it was, narrowed in on that spot simply because it made his lover feel good.

“So good, Tony, so fucking good!” Charlie cries, and Tony moans around a mouthful of his cock, rolling his tongue while crooking his fingers into that spot that seems to drive his lover wild. It takes quite a bit of strength to hold Charlie still as he gets closer and closer to his orgasm, until a particularly hard suck acts as the final straw to shove Charlie over the edge. He groans loudly, one hand fisted in Tony’s hair but trying desperately to be gentle while the other nearly tears apart Tony’s sheets.

Charlie pants for breath, staring up at the ceiling while his chest rises and falls in rapid succession. Tony discards his sleeping pants while his lover tries to recover from his orgasm, then crawls over his body to kiss his way up Charlie’s throat to his lips. The moment their lips touch, Charlie grasps Tony’s hair and devours his mouth, clinging desperately to him. Almost naturally moving together, Tony slots between Charlie’s legs and grinds his cock against his lover’s cunt with every slow thrust of his hips.

“Oh, mi corazón, te sientes tan bien.” Tony whispers in between kisses, and Charlie reaches down to grab at Tony’s ass, pushing their hips together.

“Inside, pet, I need you inside me.” Charlie insists, and Tony groans softly, reluctantly parting from Charlie. He rolls the blond onto his side a little, straddling his left leg while guiding the right up until his lover’s ankle rests on his shoulder. Thankfully, Charlie is diligent about stretching every day, for the stretch deepens as Tony takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock against Charlie’s wet cunt.

“You want me in here, si, guapo? Want me to fuck your sweet little boypussy?” Tony asks, and Charlie moans, nodding his head and looking up at his lover with half-lidded, lovestruck eyes.

“Te quiero, Tony. Make love to me.” Charlie insists, and Tony obediently begins to press his hips forwards, his cock sinking slowly into his lover, inch by inch, “Fuuuuck, you’re big. Nice and slow, Tony, just like that.”

As Tony pushes into Charlie, he adjusts the blond’s hips up a little to change the angle, letting his leg fall from his shoulder and instead hooking it over his elbow to keep him spread open. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried balls deep in Charlie’s cunt, and he can feel the way his lover flutters around him, still experiencing little aftershocks from his recent orgasm.

“Are you okay? Not oversensitive?” Tony asks just to be sure, even though the soft clenching of Charlie’s pussy is making him have to grit his teeth. He’s so warm, and so wet. Tight, and sweet, and clenching around him like he’s trying to milk Tony already even though he only just put it in. Charlie moans out a quiet yes, pulling Tony down into a kiss despite the way it strains his hips a little. He’ll take it, just to feel Tony sink deeper until he can feel his boyfriend’s cock bump against his cervix. Full and stretched to the brim, Charlie rocks his hips, fucking himself on Tony’s cock in slow, lazy movements. Tony sighs blissfully, letting him take what he wants for a few moments before planting his hands in the mattress on either side of Charlie and starting to thrust. The Spaniard sets a slow, deep pace, leaning down to kiss his way up Charlie’s throat and licking up a drop of sweat that rolls down his neck.

Strong hands trace down over Tony’s back, and he picks up his pace, kissing his way across Charlie’s jaw to try and stifle his moans. He sits up when he feels Charlie’s hand slip between them, and he watches, half-lidded and pussydrunk as the blond starts to play with his clit. He strokes it just like Tony had, treating it like any other dick, and he clenches around his boyfriend’s cock tight enough that Tony lets out a guttural groan.

“Getting close, mi corazón.” Tony whispers, and he doesn’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed at how quickly he’s gotten to the edge. Charlie is evidently unbothered, for he strokes his clit sloppily, his hips rolling to meet Tony’s thrusts, cheeks flush peach with love and lust. It only takes a few more thrusts for Tony to fall over the edge, his sweaty forehead pressed into Charlie’s shoulder, hips pressed tightly together as if to seperate would devastate him. Charlie follows him swiftly, crying out as his hips jerk, forcing Tony deeper to brush against that spot inside him that is sometimes difficult to reach. Bliss floods his veins, and Charlie wraps his arms around Tony, pulling him closer until his weight is just on the edge of suffocating.

“Fucking perfect.” Charlie whispers, and Tony sighs, happy and sated.

It's the perfect day for a visit to the beach. The sun is high in the sky over Dorset with not a single cloud in sight. It took a while to be able to find a day where Charlie and Tony would be able to make the trek, but Monty had offered use of his SUV so long as he was invited, and it had become a bit of a grand event. Nearly a month passes before you’re able to get together for a beach day when the weather is also cooperating, but it’s worth the wait. Monty makes lunch specially, while Tony brings wine in one of Charlie's opaque reusable water bottles. Charlie brings enough desserts for an army, and a huge beach blanket for them all to use. Adam threw yet another hissy fit when Tony took a day off, but it was all worth the trouble, especially when he accidentally made it clear that he wanted to know about Tony’s boyfriend. It was even better to hear him become furious when Tony gave little away.

The weather held true to hopes, sunny and bright with only moments of clouds, not a hint of rain in sight. The water was beautiful, and the beach was busy but manageable. Their early arrival meant that they had secured a good spot, and Monty's ridiculously oversized umbrella provided much-needed shade over their beach blanket. All three men had slathered on a thick layer of sunscreen, and wore their swimsuits underneath their clothes in preparation.

Charlie yanks his shirt over his head as they finally finish setting up, and Tony watches with a smile as his boyfriend sheds his clothing like it’s nothing. His confidence is astounding. He leans down to kiss Tony in full view of the entire beach, feeds him lunch and desserts like he can’t feel the eyes on him, then joins a group playing volleyball for a couple rounds in the sun. Tony watches beside Monty, drinking a bit of wine and relaxing in the indirect sun while he enjoys the view of his sweaty boyfriend doing a little victory wiggle after scoring. Charlie returns to him covered in sand sticking to his sweaty torso after a dive to bump the ball and rescue his team from defeat.

“Ton, baby, come swim with me. I need to clear this sand off.” Charlie requests, and Tony reluctantly gets up, letting his boyfriend grab his hand and lead him down the beach towards the waves.

“Coming, Monty?”

“Nah, I’m working on my tan. I’ll join ya in a bit.” He promises, and Charlie grins, lifting Tony up and running with him into the waves while his Spanish boyfriend shrieks and nearly kicks him in the gut. Thankfully, the blond has the good sense not to dunk his lover, lest the Spaniard get a mouthful of salt water. More of a lover than a fighter, Tony puts up a modest challenge in a clumsy oceanic wrestling match, only to be lifted above an oncoming wave by Charlie in a romantic gesture that he genuinely appreciates. Below him, Charlie gets a faceful of salt water that nearly knocks him off his feet. Once it’s passed, he puts Tony down and splutters, wiping his face to try and clear the stinging from his eyes while they laugh together.

“You’re a dork, mi corazón. But thank you for rescuing me from that wave you put me in the way of.” Tony teases, and Charlie laughs, splashing him lightly.

“I will always save you from the problems I put you in front of. Promise.”

“Well, that’s a relief, since I’m sure you’ll get me into a ton of them.”

Charlie laughs, giving Tony a salty, smiley kiss then smooching his cheek, followed by his temple. They swim for a while, floating in the waves and enjoying the sun, but eventually, Charlie lets Tony lead him back onto the beach so they can hide in the shade. They reapply sunscreen, then spend some time chatting with Monty before phones come out and the three of them start taking photos. Monty posts a slew of them to instagram, then pours them all wine while he regales them with stories from his restaurant. It’s a beautiful day spent together in the sun, swimming and then refreshing their sunscreen while they cool off with some fruit until the early evening.

Together, the three men take the long trek back to London and stop in at a new restaurant that seems to be getting a lot of attention lately for dinner. After getting dropped off by Monty at Charlie’s, Tony drags his boyfriend into a long shower to wash off the salt and the sand together. It’s no surprise when Tony finds himself face down in the mattress, and he’s not the least bit upset that he spends so long in that position while Charlie gets him ready - not when Charlie makes him come twice before they’ve even really started. His third and final orgasm comes with Charlie pinning him to the bed, strap buried so deep inside of him that he thinks he might just break.

On a dark, humid Sunday night, Charlie walks into the Langham with a small bag of Tony's belongings over his shoulder, nodding at a couple of servers he recognizes. Kaitlin directs him towards the kitchen, and he heads in that direction with a smile on his face, spotting Tony by the window where expo is done for the kitchen. He opens the door, peeking his head in and giving Tony a wave when he looks, then gesturing to where he’s planning on waiting. He doesn’t have time to duck back out before Adam spots him and points.

“You! Get in here.”

Charlie raises his eyebrows, but heads into the kitchen regardless to avoid making a scene in the dining room, “Y’alright?”

“No, smartass, I’m not ‘alright’. You keep taking my fucking maitre d’ on crucial fucking nights and everything goes to shit.” Adam snaps, but Charlie keeps his cool, giving Tony’s lower back a gentle touch as he approaches. He doesn’t miss Adam’s glare at his hand. He should de-escalate. As a grown adult man with his own business, he should take a step back from the fight Adam is clearly trying to ramp up to. He doesn’t want to embarrass Tony in front of his own staff. And yet, he’s not able to do it. He can’t back down from the man who spent a good year discriminating against him, making his life hell, and taking away from his opportunities to learn. He does his best to be the bigger man while still keeping his backbone and staying true to himself.

“Sounds like you need to step it up, mate. Any good restaurant should be able to cope without the maitre d’ for a night.”

“The fuck would you know?” Adam asks, tossing a dish towel on the metal counter. Tony jolts a little, but Charlie keeps his cool, shifting his weight to get ready. He can see the coiling muscle, and recognises the signs from the last time he fought Adam. His next words are crucial.

“Do you think Jean-Luc’s would not have been able to run without his maitre d’? Tony is his own man, Adam, I think he can make his own decision, and he deserves a day off. If your kitchen cannot cope without him, then your kitchen is shit. Front of house seems to be doing fine. Maybe it’s just… you.” Charlie offers with a raised eyebrow, and Tony’s gentle intake of breath makes him smile.

“My kitchen is shit? Why am I even talking to you about this, what the fuck do you know about-” Adam trails off, then scoffs, “What do you know about Jean-Luc’s?”

Charlie snorts, giving Tony a gentle pat on the lower back then leaning in towards him as if he’s about to whisper to him, though he speaks at a normal volume, “I told you he didn’t recognise me, caramelo.”

“I did not disagree, mi corazón.” Tony comments, and Charlie chuckles, pecking his cheekbone.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Adam snaps, grabbing the front of Charlie’s shirt and nearly ripping it with the way he drags the blond closer.

“The last time we fought, it didn’t end well for you, Adam. Are you sure you want to try again?” Charlie asks, taking the American’s hand in his and squeezing his knuckles until his mouth twists with pain, “I was a lot smaller back then.”

He can see the moment it clicks.

“Charlotte?”

“Charlie now, mate.”

Adam practically snarls, trying to get his hand free to no avail, “I should’ve had you arrested back then. Tony, seriousl-”

“No,” Charlie squeezes harder, twisting his arm to one side, “You don’t bring him into this. This is you and me, mate.”

Adam swings with his off hand, but Charlie uses his grip on Adam’s dominant hand to block it, then throws his arm wide so he can land a punch to Adam’s gut.

“You don’t want to do this.” Charlie murmurs, grabbing Adam’s wrist as he throws another punch and using his grip to spin him and lock his arm behind his back, “This is embarrassing, mate, come on.”

“Fuck you!”

“With your shriveled up dick? I wouldn’t even feel it.” Charlie retorts, rolling his eyes as he shoves Adam over the edge of the metal counter, slamming his face down against it, “Are we done?”

Adam struggles, and Charlie glances up at the rest of the kitchen staff. No one even makes a move to intervene - not even Helen. Adam rears up, but Charlie slams him back down again.

“Are. We. Done?”

A whispered answer is not enough, and Charlie leans over him a little.

“Louder, Adam.”

“We’re done! Get the fuck off of me.”

Charlie snorts, letting go of the other man and turning away to approach his boyfriend, “We won’t have another issue, will we, Adam?”

He doesn’t get a response, but he doesn’t need one. Tony slips an arm around Charlie’s waist and follows him out of the restaurant, breathing getting a little heavy the further they walk.

“Are you going to make it home, caramelo?” Charlie whispers playfully, and Tony squeezes his bicep.

“Honestly? No sé.”

They make it home, but only barely. Tony’s soft voice pleading against Charlie’s ear has him sighing as he pushes the Spaniard down on the couch so he can straddle his lap. The breathiest gasp escapes Tony’s lips as Charlie sheds his jeans in a hurry before sinking down on Tony’s cock with only the slightest groan. He’s wet enough to take him, but he still feels the slightest discomfort from being underprepared. He’ll endure it, for Tony.

“Is that better, pet?” Charlie whispers, and Tony groans as he digs his pretty little hands into the blond’s hips, “So desperate you couldn't even wait. My poor, poor love. Did I get you worked up?”

“Charlie…” Tony whines, rolling his hips up eagerly against the weight pinning him to the sofa.

“I know, love, I know. I’ll take care of you. Don't I always?”

“Yes! Yes, you do. Por favor, mi corazón!”

The apartment is filled with the soft, slick sound of Charlie’s cunt, the breathy gasps escaping both men, and the gentle slap of skin on skin. It takes little time at all for Tony to come with a shaky groan, his teeth biting gently around Charlie’s throbbing pulse. He’s too worked up for it to be anything but a quick endeavour, but neither man seems to mind. Tony’s cheeks burn red as Charlie gets up off of him, cum already leaking down the other man’s inner thigh.

“Sorry, I-”

“No. No apologies, love. Not for wanting me. Not for needing me.” Charlie corrects him, leaning down for a gentle kiss, “Perhaps I should apologise. You’ve got cum on your fancy trousers.”

Tony scoffs, still catching his breath and letting his head fall back on the sofa, “I couldn't care less, Charlie.”

“You will when you have to give them to the dry cleaners covered in cum, shy boy.”

Another scoff, less sure this time, and Charlie snorts as he pulls his shirt over his head and bends to grab his pants.

“Come on, pet, I'm not done with you yet.”

“What, again?”

“Are you complaining?” Charlie asks with a raised eyebrow, and Tony flushes, getting up on shaky legs to start unbuttoning his shirt.

“And you call me insatiable.” Tony replies primly, nose in the air even as his cheeks turn pink.

“You are. The cum dripping down my leg only proves it, love. Go freshen up a little, pet, I want to take you apart tonight.” Charlie purrs, and Tony’s flush deepens. He knows what that means - Charlie always tells him to freshen up so he won't panic about being dirty and ruin the moment, and to teasingly let him know he’s about to have his boyfriend’s tongue inside him.

Just over half an hour later, Tony finds himself laying on his stomach, hips propped up on a couple of pillows while Charlie eases the head of his clear strap-on into his spit and lube-slick hole. He groans softly, shifting his weight a little to get comfortable on the pillows and leaning into the soothing stroke of Charlie’s hands across his trembling sides. His eyes roll back as Charlie bottoms out, a satisfied groan falling from his lips that only gets louder when Charlie uses his knees to spread Tony’s legs a little further.

“You’re so fucking lush, Tony.” Charlie praises, kissing a line up his spine to nip at his shoulder as he presses his palms into the mattress to get settled, “Want it like this, baby? Nice and close?”

“Mmm, si, esto es bueno.” Tony mumbles, lost to Spanish in his pleasure, and Charlie chuckles as he adjusts his position a little.

“Good. Just relax and enjoy it, caramelo. Gonna make you come dry by the end of the night. Bet you’ve barely got anything left in you after you came on my tongue, huh, baby?”

“Suena bien.”

“You don’t even know what I just said, do you?”

“Mmm.” Tony hums in response, and Charlie laughs as he begins to ease out, then slowly thrusts back inside. Another couple of slow thrusts warm Tony up until his melting like butter, before Charlie finally picks up his pace. Soft ‘ah, ah, ah’s leave Tony’s lips with every thrust, and his hands clench in the pillow beneath his head. It’s a slow build, rolling waves of pleasure as Charlie pushes Tony’s ass a little higher in the air, then angles his thrusts to brush across his boyfriend’s prostate just right. Distantly, Tony knows that Charlie is putting in all of the work - he can feel the heat of his lover’s body, the gentle drips of sweat as he takes on awkward angles that strain his muscles - but he can’t be bothered to care. Not when it feels this good.

“Do the pillows feel nice on your dick, baby? Want my hand instead?” Charlie purrs, and Tony moans his agreement, lifting his hips a little to give Charlie room.

“Se siente tan bien. Quiero más, por favor.”

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.” Charlie promises, wiggling his hand under Tony’s hips using his strength to hold his boyfriend up so that he can jerk him off in time with his thrusts, “Wanna fuck my hand, or do you want me to do all the work, hm?”

“Tú.” comes the simple reply, and Charlie laughs as he kisses Tony’s back.

“Ahh, spoiled.” He teases, wrapping his hand around Tony’s aching cock and stroking gently. The pillows haven’t rubbed all of the lube off of him, so it’s enough for Charlie to ease the glide along with his precum. Thankfully. Tony hates dry handjobs.

Charlie uses the weight of his thrusts to stroke Tony, his grip the perfect balance between loose and firm just the way his boyfriend likes it. Kisses blanket his shoulders, gentle and interspersed with soft nips that make Tony tremble and sigh as Charlie picks up his pace a little. His orgasm clearly sneaks up on him, gasping before he groans, his whole body tensing up as he fucks into Charlie’a hand eagerly. Neither of them are particularly surprised to find it relatively dry, the last of his load squeezed out in the first throb.

Charlie only stops thrusting when Tony is fully finished and starting to go boneless, his own legs shaking from an orgasm moments before. Now that he isn't focused on taking care of Tony, he’s able to collapse into a shivering pile and rip the strap-on off of himself with clumsy fingers. Tony peaks at him lazily, humming at the sight and licking his lips as he shifts his body a little to face him.

“Did you come just from the rubbing on your cock?” Tony asks, and Charlie nods shakily, rubbing his palm down over his face as he catches his breath, “Fuck, that’s hot. C’mere, mi corazón.”

On shaking hands and knees, Charlie crawls over to Tony while the other man pushes the pillows from under his hips off the bed and curls around him, nuzzling his face into Tony’s chest, “I’ll make breakfast in the morning.”

“Yes, you will.” Tony mumbles, putting his arms around Charlie and pressing his face into the blond’s hair.

The following morning as Charlie is making lunch, the doorbell rings, and Tony heads to get the door. A delivery man with a massive box on a trolley stands outside, and Tony signs for the package with a raised eyebrow. The delivery man rolls the box into the living room at Tony’s instruction, then leaves, and the Spaniard stares at the label while trying to figure out what could be inside.

“Did you order something, querido?” Tony calls, and Charlie cheers, abandoning their pasta to peek into the living room.

“Yeah, open it up, it’s for you.” Charlie insists, handing him the box cutter and disappearing again. Tony rolls his eyes but does as he’s told with a bit of excitement. He loves presents. It takes ages to get the box open, but when he does, Tony nearly sobs. Inside lies a massive brown beanbag couch with an owl head and feathery patterns on the sides to indicate a sort of wing pattern. The material is plush, and Tony crawls onto it the moment it’s out of the box, groaning at the plush softness of the chair.

“You’re my favourite.” He calls, and Charlie laughs as he enters the living room with two plates.

“Oh, am I? Make room, baby, let me sit with you.”

Tony scoots over, and Charlie sits beside him, handing him one of the plates. They curl up together in the new plush seat, and Charlie feeds Tony a bite from his plate, then kisses his temple.

“I love you, Tony Balerdi.” Charlie murmurs, and Tony lets out a blissful sigh. He knew it, even if this was the first time Charlie said it out loud. Never before had he ever been so sure that a partner loved him until now. Not until Charlie.

“Te amo, Charlie.”

#burnt #tony balerdi #tony balerdi x oc #trans male character #trans male original character #tony balerdi x original male character

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franks-unholy-confessional · 10 months ago

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Confessions from a dream

BarbedWireRosary has a confession.

ChronicArsonist and I were discussing what it would be like to have a heavy makeout session with Frank, both the fun and the frustration of such types of sessions, and the overall pleasure of spending an evening with someone you're attracted to and just kinda falling deeper into the experience as the kissing intensifies, possibly leading to touching with hands or grinding against each other, and how it might turn out if things got hot.

ChronicArsonist's thoughts can be found here, and they really painted a pretty picture of a session with Frank:

My confession is about a dream I had after our discussion, and I have to start by confessing that it's pretty rare for me to ever feel like I'd enjoy kissing someone, but Frank somehow manages to transcend that barrier, and as long as I'm confessing I'll admit that there are a lot of things I'd never really consider doing with someone but if it was with Frank?? Let's fucking go, that man can get any-fucking-thing he wants.

So, in my dream, it's me and Frank, and we're standing somewhere private. He's leaning up against the wall and we're talking. His gorgeous hazel eyes are fixed on mine as we talk but every so often they flicker down to my lips and that makes me realize that this talking thing we're doing is about to turn into something else. I tilt my head back slightly, pushing my lips closer to him, moving my hips forward, slightly closer to him, and in a split second he closes his eyes and leans forward, pulling me into a kiss that starts with an inquisitive insistence and quickly becomes deeper as we both realize how much we both wanted that feeling. His tongue is in my mouth and we're teasing each other, moving softly but intensely, and I'm pulling back to gently bite and tug at his lower lip, opening my eyes to catch his hazel eyes darkened with want.

He reaches for my hand and pushes it down to the front of his pants where his cock is starting to strain against the front of his ripped-up black jeans. He moves and holds my hand in place so I can't help but feel him as his arousal is increasing and his dick is getting harder. I hum softly into his mouth as I feel my head dropping back, my shoulders dropping back, and I sigh as he guides my hand toward the waistband of his pants. He moves to loosen his pink belt and unbutton his jeans, and I don't waste a moment wrapping my hand around his hot, hard cock and giving it a light but exploratory squeeze. He moans and exhales as his mouth drops open, breaking the kiss, and he tilts his head back, eyes closed, and a look of bliss on his face as I move to kiss along his jawline and neck next to his ear. I begin to stroke his cock, still trapped inside his underwear, inside his jeans, feeling his length and running my thumb gently across the head, eliciting another moan from his parted lips.

#redacted frank iero #franks unholy confessional #f.i.l.f. filth #f.i.l.f.#unholy confession #barbedwirerosary #tbh this was a dream and unfortunately I woke up at this point #but!! I might continue this and turn it into a fic on ao3 #minors dni

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mystreraes · 1 year ago

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feeling the way blake was giving just as much energy as she was receiving from him, didn't just make the man horny or more needy for her body to be pressed firmly up against his own. it made him happy, really fucking happy. being wanted in this way, such an intimate way and by someone that he was genuinely into and who seemed to reciprocate that was rare for him. so as cole let his eyes drift shut at the feeling of her lips pressing into his neck. the subtle lovebites she was giving him sending electric shockwaves through his body, and the friction building between them and their jeans. hearing her fucking moan like that... he was truly testing his ability to remain patient and in control.

the successful pulling of her jeans as they came free from her body, to reveal that tight red thong being the last remaining piece of clothing to cover her made his head spin. "holy fuck--" he whimpered at merely the sight of her on top of him like that. blake's hands pressing firmly into his chest as she moved her hips over him back and forth again. his cock aching with a need for her that he'd literally never felt before. this was so much better than anything he'd thought about. even when he would take the time to steal glances of her at lux. her body didn't move like this when she was with clients, maybe in private dance rooms but what he wasn't privy to wasn't his business. nothing could have prepared him for this, literally fucking nothing.

his hands had been gliding up along the sides of her body as she moved but he needed her closer now. cole softly moved from her hips and waist to her wrists again, taking a hold of her like he did when he'd pinned her to the bed before. firm enough but most of all gentle. a soft smirk on his hazy lips as cole pushed her arms out to the side so that she gave way and came crashing back down to him. his lips catching hers as she met him, letting go of her wrists to hold her close to him. wandering hands found her body again, knowing full well if he touched her in a way she didn't like she'd have something to say about it. his touch followed down along her back, really taking in her soft skin as if he might not ever get the chance to touch her again. once he reached her lower back he sped up, grabbing her ass again, her bare fucking ass. the man took one hand, reaching it around further so that he could finally softly caress the outer edges of her pussy through those silky feeling panties.

finally pulling away from her kiss to drop his head back down onto the bed again. she was wet, she was really fucking wet. "ohhh---" he moaned the word softly before biting down on his lower lip, still rubbing his fingers up and down along her pussy. his hazel orbs were fixed on her and only her; blake's beautiful blonde messy hair and the makeup that smudged at the edges of her eyes, the dark red stain on her lips from her lipstick. she was so fucking beautiful, he just wanted to do whatever the fuck he could to show how much gratitude he had for her letting him be this close to her.

strong hands moved to grip the back of her thighs. pressing into her flesh, using his strength to lift her and pull her body. at the same time cole used the momentum to shift down lower on the bed. the man shifted each shoulder under her, his legs falling off the side so he was bent at the knees but it didn't matter. he could be in the most fucking uncomfortable position of his life and as long as he had her pussy in his face, he really wouldn't give a fuck. as blake's legs now straddled either side of cole's face, her body hovering right over him as he continued to look up at her. a weariness in his eyes as he tried to really calculate whether or not she was comfortable with this. slowly, his lips made contact with her pussy. kissing her gently through the fabric of her panties before he moved down along to her thigh. after he pressed a few more kisses onto her soft skin he looked back up to her. "is this okay?" his tone was hopeful despite the fact that it was maybe it was a bit late to be checking in. but still, before he pulled those panties aside and got to work he needed to know he had her permission.

Time was moving all too slow yet somehow speeding by all at the same time. Cole's touch on her bare skin, his hands sliding along the curves of her body was achingly slow, and the fire in her veins being dialed up one tiny millimeter along with his hand. It was a feeling she wanted more of, his hands just running over every bit of skin that she had. Feeling the vibration from his moan on her lips and his fingertips digging into her soft flesh, Blake ground her hips into his again. The friction of their jeans causing Blake to start to soak through the lace thong she was wearing. Fuck, she wanted him. Everything about him turned her on even more. From the way he was so turned on by her already, to the way he began tugging at her jeans, it was all too clear he'd been thinking about her for a while now. There was a devilish smirk that formed on the woman's lips as Cloe continued to tug at her skin tight jeans. The way he wanted her, the way she seemed to turn him on. It was driving her crazy. Blake's mouth broke away from his only to trail it's way across his scruffy cheek, over his sharp jaw and down to his neck where she nipped at his skin with her teeth with another grind of her hips. This time Blake let out a lustful moan of her own knowing that all she was doing was making herself wetter, driving herself crazy, not to mention what she must have been doing to him. With Cole continuing to tug at her jeans, peeling them down her thighs enough Blake managed to free herself of them in a few kicks. Thank fucking God she'd decided bootcut were the way to go tonight instead of skinny jeans. Readjusting herself, Blake sat back up, her hands once more planted on his chest for support, and ground herself into him. A soft whimper coming from her as she could feel just how much he was enjoying this now she was on him wearing just a red lace thong that matched the bra he'd taken off what seemed like ages ago.

#( & interactions: cole & blake. )

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quindolyn · 3 years ago

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Can you please write more sub James. I thrive off that sh*t

All Dressed Up || James Potter

A/N: I haven't been feeling inspired to write but James in lingerie seemed to get my brain working so I literally wrote this and then scoured my inbox for a request that wastage enough to fit. I like this piece and I hope you guys enjoy it, I'm feeling motivated right now so you might even get something else today or tomorrow.

Warnings: jamie in lingerie, sub!James, dom!reader, fem!reader, some bimbofication, teasing, praise, degradation; names like whore and slut but not too much of it, allusion to pegging at the end and I think that's it, all acts are consensual and there is a safe word in place

Word Count: 2870

“Close your eyes,” You giggle, placing your hands over James’ as you direct them over his shining hazel optics. Perched atop the hard planes of his thighs you make sure his fingers are held tightly together, lest he try to peek before you permit him to look.

“They’re closed, they’re closed,” He chuckles, a grin playing at his lips, slightly chapped but almost impossibly pink.

“Good,” You smile, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, “Keep being a good boy and you’ll get your present.”

It’s almost funny how drastic of an effect your words have on him in such a short amount of time, so close to him you can hear as his breathing becomes shallower, he stiffens under you in anticipation. You can’t help but smile as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, you love that you can do that to him.

“Do you think you can do that for me, pretty boy?” Your voice drops to a whisper as you lean forward so that your lips graze the shell of his ear, James tries to suppress a shiver but he is wildly unsuccessful.

“Yes, Mommy.”

You coo at his good manners, pride swelling in your chest as you gently push yourself off his lap so that you can pull a bag out from underneath the bed.

The previous weekend you and Sirius had visited Hogsmeade together, your friends are aware of the dynamic between you and James in the bedroom, Sirius especially never misses out on an opportunity to tease James, though it's always in good fun, especially when Remus reminds him just what will happen if he’s not nice to Jamesie.

You were in a store specializing in intimates, needing a few new bras as your current ones were starting to feel a bit snug when Sirius had stumbled upon the men’s lingerie. When you’d glimpsed the rows of lace, satin, and silk coming in all different colors and in all different cuts you hadn’t been able to resist.

Glancing into the bag you find yourself eternally grateful that you’d made your purchases as the excitement surrounding the idea of James in lingerie is multiplied by ten fold with him so near.

Directing your eyes back toward James you consider letting him just sit there, anticipation thrumming in his veins as the idea of him so needy for you and not being able to do anything about it always holds a certain appeal.

Your wanting to see him dressed up over rules your desire to torture him as you pull a black lace thong from the discreet bag before setting it on the floor and sitting back down on the bed, mindlessly playing with the miniscule fabric of the thong.

“You can open your eyes now baby,” You command, eyes glued to his face, wanting to see the moment it dawned on him what you have in your hands.

“W-What’s that Mommy?” He asks, gesturing to the thong in your hands.

“What do you think it is Jamesie?” Merlin, he’s adorable when he’s confused.

He pushes his glass up further on his nose as he cocks his head to the side, “Looks like a thong Mommy,” His eyes fly up to your face, a hopeful look in his eyes, “Do I get to see my Mommy in lingerie?”

“Not quite pretty boy,” His face falls at your words but he does his best to conceal his disappointment, “This is for you, s not fair I put on lingerie and don’t buy it for you too, it’s so mean of me to leave you out and I thought it was time I rectified that.”

James’ mouth drops into the most adorable little “o” shape as realization dawns upon him, he gulps before finding his words to speak, “S for me?”

His eyes are wide behind the frames of his glasses, as much as you like him in them you don’t want them getting in the way, sitting back on your heels you lean forward so you can slide them from his face and abandon them on the nightstand.

“Yeah baby s for you, you wanna stand up so we can get you into your thong for me?”

His response is immediate as he pushes himself off of the bed, nodding his head and already moving to pull his shirt off over it.

You’re extremely pleased by his reaction to your proposal, you and he had briefly discussed James in lingerie but had never given it serious consideration. You find yourself regretting putting it off for this long.

“Ah ah ah Jamesie,” Said boy’s eyes fly up to your face, a slightly panicked look in them, “Did I say you could take your shirt off by yourself?”

“No Mommy,” He admits bashfully, his hands falling from the hem of his shirt and to his sides.

“That’s right, because pretty babies needn’t trouble themselves with taking off their clothes, Mommy’s here to do it for you. Do you want Mommy to take off your shirt bubba?”

You too have pushed off of the bed and are close enough to slip your hand under his jaw, directing his gaze from the floor to your face as you pose your question to him. The soft look in your eyes tells him he’s not in trouble for acting without permission and he softens under your touch.

“Please,” He whimpers, he’s absolutely oozing desperation and you’re drinking it all up, every last drop.

Using your grip on his jaw you guide James’ face down to yours, your lips are so close that his breath is fanning across your face but you make no move to connect your lips as you’re rather enjoying watching James so needy for you.

“Mommy,” He whines, “Please, need your lips.”

“You need them baby?”

His head nods in your hold and he juts out his bottom lip, he’s the picture of desperation and Godric is it a good look on him.

You lean forward ever so slightly, allowing your lips to brush against his, in his need for you James pushes forward, trying desperately to meet yours but you’re quick to pull his face back so that your lips are simply brushing.

“Needy little thing,” You muse, allowing your gaze to drop from James’ face, you take your time to admire his body, slowly dragging your eyes back up to meet his.

Before he can beg again you’re surging forward, attaching your lips to his, your other hand flies to cup James’ jaw too so you have complete control over him and his movements. Your skin tingles under the thin material of your t-shirt as his hands gravitate towards your waist, pulling you as close to him as he can manage without breaking the kiss.

Your lips work fervently against his and he doesn’t even make an effort to match your aggression, instead just taking what you give him, absorbing every flick of your tongue and nip of your teeth.

Eventually your hands leave his jaw, instead finding where the hem of his shirt rests against the hard planes of his stomach, you make quick work of the shirt as you pull the soft cotton over his head, pulling your lips from his for just a moment in order to rid him of his clothing. That mere moment proves too much for James as he lets out the most pathetic whine.

His whining only intensifies when instead of meeting his lips again you step out of his grasp to survey him. Allowing your eyes to sweep over his newly bared chest your mouth salivates at his muscle shifting under his beautiful skin.

Moving towards him your hands find the button of his jeans, making quick work of it and the following zipper while you let your teeth graze over the hard bud of his nipple. The guttural moan he releases at the stimulation reminds you that you love his nipples almost as much as he loves yours.

Hooking your fingers on both his jeans and boxers you pull them down in one fell swoop, sinking to your knees with the offending fabrics you have an optimal view of James’ cock as it bounces against his hip. He already seems to be hard and his pretty, swollen head is already leaking precum.

You help him step out of his clothes, he follows your instructions obediently all the while his head is craned downwards so that he can keep his eyes on you. The gentle touches of your hands against his calves have him buckling at the knees.

“Do you like how I look on my knees baby?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes before gently kissing the inside of his thigh

“Y-yes Mommy,” He stutters out.

“Don’t get used to it,” Sternness seeps into your voice as you deliver a harsh slap to the inside of his thigh, the same spot where just moments earlier your lips had been tenderly pressed against his skin as you reach for the lace thong.

Helping James step into the lacy garment you smirk as you tease him, your fingertips brushing against his soft skin as you slowly slip the thong up his legs, taking a sick sort of pleasure in the way he squirms, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

A pleased smile graces your lips as you pull the garment up to rest on James’ hips, you’d guessed at his size but as your eyes survey him there’s no denying how well it fits him.

Not even bothering to spare him a glance upwards you let your palms smooth across the tops of his thighs, a thin dusting of hair along his smooth skin, as your eyes remain glued to his cock, straining against the lacy fabric.

“So pretty,” Your murmur, letting your palms venture up his thighs, dancing dangerously close to his aching cock but never quite touching him where he so desperately needs you.

“Turn around for me,” You instruct, tapping his hip.

On shaky legs James manages to turn so that you have a view of his ass, on full display for you thanks to the minsiculity of the thong.

A wicked smile stretches across your lips as you lift your hands to shamelessly grope his ass, fingers melding into the supple flesh as you knead it beneath your palms.

“So firm,” You praise absentmindedly, removing your hands so you can admire the red tint to his ass after your ministrations on it. You’re certain that if you could see James’ face a similar red tint would be adorning his other set of cheeks.

“Godric thank the lad who invented Quidditch,” You murmur against his skin as your lips find his hip, trailing soft, delicate kisses down his skin, following the curve of his bum while your hand continues to grope the other cheek.

“Thank you Mommy,” He manages breathlessly, doing his best to not fall to his knees right with you as your touch turns his legs to absolute mush.

After thoroughly ravishing his bum and upper thighs with kisses you push yourself to your feet, giving him a quick slap on his bottom before ordering him to lie on the bed.

As he scrambles to obey your order you keep your eyes fixed on his form while your fingers reach for the hem of your shirt, making quick work of it as you pull it off over your head and abandon it on the floor.

James’ eyes immediately fix on your chest, breasts supported by a white lace bra, the way he’s looking at you though, you’d think you were completely naked.

“See something you like, pretty boy?” The flexing of his thighs does not go unnoticed by you, no doubt because of your teasing tone.

He simply nods in response, not being able to formulate the words to respond to you.

“Poor baby,” You coo, climbing onto the bed so that you’re once again straddling James, only now you sit lower on his legs, more on his upper shins than thighs, “Already too dumb to use your words?”

With one hand planted on the bed to support you as you lean forward the other grabs James’ chin, forcing him to meet your eyes.

Any hope James had of summoning the ability to speak dissipates at your show of dominance. The haze that had already begun to cloud his mind only intensifying as he becomes acutely aware of all the places where your body touches his, the way your breasts hang from your chest, so close that he could lift his hand to feel them, play with them.

“Poor dumb baby,” You mewl, your hand leaving his chin, sliding down the smooth skin of his chest and abdomen before settling on his prominent bulge. Without preamble you cup his cock in your hand, the only thing separating the two being the black lace that he looks so pretty in.

His back arches off the bed at your touch, thrusting his hips up into your hand he puts on quite the show, always a good, eager slut.

“Mommy!”

“Oh, so now you can speak?” You taunt, face mere inches from his.

All you’re met with in response is an admittedly adorable, if not pathetic, whine as James squeezes his eyes closed and tries to still his wriggling hips. Your hand continues to palm at his crotch, never once letting up on your movements as he writhes underneath you, completely consumed by the pleasure you bring him.

You love how he looks below you; useless, needy, a perfect little slut. Him beneath you never fails to get you wet, your wetness pooling in your panties as a warmth settles low into your stomach.

“Feels so good Mommy, need your hand, need it!”

“You’ve already got it baby, isn’t that what I’m giving you right now?”

His eyes fly open, looking down between your two bodies as if to check if your words are true, when he finds that they indeed are they come back up to you, desperation and lust swimming in his hazy optics.

“S not enough,” He cries, his back again flying off the mattress, “S not enough Mommy, need more, need more.” He keeps repeating the words over and over again like a prayer he’s desperate to have answered.

To silence him you drop onto your forearm, your lips meeting his, swallowing his moans, his pleads, his whines, all the while your hand still palms away at his cock.

Large hands find your body, but so ravaged by lust they roam as though lost, over your hips, your waist, briefly skittering over your bum, not quite sure where to land. As though echoing his earlier words nonverbally, needing all of you, but nothing quite seeming to be enough.

If he wasn’t so entrenched in your body, in the way you’re making him feel, perhaps he would’ve noticed the tell tale warning signs that he was approaching his orgasm. Perhaps he would’ve had time to beg to cum, to promise to be a good boy for you so long as you grant him release.

Instead it washes over him all too suddenly, catching him off guard as he thrusts up into your hand once more, cumming all over himself, the thong, and your hand.

More wetness pools in your pussy as you feel James twitch beneath you as he rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm, his prick sensitive under your touch.

“M-Mommy,” He whimpers as he starts to come back after his orgasm, “Mommy s’too much.”

His hips try to squirm away from you as you ignore his words, continuing to grope his cock through the now ruined material of the thong you’d bought for him.

“Mommy please!”

“I don’t remember giving you permission to cum Jamesie,” You speak against the soft skin along his collar bone, your tone of voice causes a shiver to race down his spine.

“I’m sorry Mommy,” He whimpers uselessly, “I’m sorry.”

“And not only did you cum without permission,” You say, ignoring his apologies, “But you came in your panties like a little whore, didn’t realize you were that much of a useless slut, ruining your new clothes.”

“Didn’t mean to Mommy, just felt so good,” His voice is a strained whine and only serves to deepen your arousal, sending a shiver down your spine and directly to your pussy.

“If my touch feels so good then why are you trying to get away from me, slut?” James’ hips are indeed still trying to evade your grasp, rather uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to be deterred, still writhing underneath you.

“S’too much!” He cries out, contradicting his statement as he bucks up into your hand.

“Aw, is it too much for you Jamie? Can’t take it?” Your words are dripping with a sick sort of amusement, a sneer adorning your lips.

You lean down so that your lips are grazing his ear, your breath fanning across the side of his face, he shivers at your proximity and you can’t help but love the effect you have on him.

“If you can’t take this, how do you expect to take my strap?”

taglist: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @thatvenusbabe @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @greenlyblue @emmaev @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb @marauderswhore07 @st0nesnglitter @miraclesoflove @shadesofvelma @ashlovesthemarauders @artemis1orion @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @fairyprettygirly @ohwowimlonley @padfootswife @roonilwazlibswhore @swearingsolemnly @teenwolfbitches28 @lilypad-55449 @jamespotterslover @jeannelupinblack @wh0reforthemarauders @myalupinblack @ashesandstars @daisyyy2516 @siriusmydeer @remugoodgirl @itzstacie-blog @planet-wolfstar @steveharringtonswhore @saintlike78 @cedricisnotdead @pretty-pop-princess-hs @saggyb1lls

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k-evans-reads · 2 years ago

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Playing With Fire Headcanons

Playing With Fire Masterlist

By @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

It was a Tuesday when Chris had picked Hazel up from school and dropped her off at his mother’s house

She had been wanting to have some one on one time with her granddaughter and so when Hazel had told Chris about one of the girls who had picked on her at school the day before and made her cry, he thought that today would be the perfect day to surprise her with a sleepover at grandma’s house

And when he picked her up from school with her little bag packed with her favorite stuffed animals she couldn’t be parted from and told her she was going to nana’s, Hazel was grinning from ear to ear.

But with an unexpected evening free, Chris drove straight over to the little yellow house on the corner where he hoped his other favorite girl would be.

Chris figured that with Ellie having Tuesday’s off, she’d probably be curled up on her couch reading a book and that’s exactly where he found her when he walked inside her home

It didn’t take Chris long to have his shoes and coat discarded before he crawled onto the couch, Ellie’s book fallen to the floor as their lips couldn’t stop meeting over and over again

But eventually Ellie pulled away to ask why he was here and when she found out that she’d get him all evening, Ellie’s eyes were sparkling as she asked, “So I get you today and on Saturday? I’m going to get spoiled.”

Although Chris never replied

Well not verbally anyway.

Their lips didn’t leave one another's for a long time until Chris got his arms around Ellie and scooped her off up the couch, heading down the hall for her bedroom.

But when Chris gently pushed the door open with his foot and sat Ellie on the bed, her hands came out to rest a little behind her, propping herself up as she watched Chris strip off his tee shirt

And although her attention should have been on that hunky tattooed chest, her eyes were getting wide and something else

She felt a familiar bit of fabric underneath her hand and realized what still was sitting on her bed

With Chris shoving his jeans down his long legs, Ellie quickly tried to push the pink blanket underneath her pillow without him seeing

But failed when Chris asked, “What are you doing?” “Nothing.” “Then why don’t you show me what you were just trying to hide?”

Ellie just tried to brush it off, telling him it was nothing and pulling on his toned waist, attempting to get him on top of her once again

But the firefighter didn’t budge.

“Ellie, remember that I’m a dad so you’re not going to get away with trying to sneak something by me.”

With a sigh, Ellie knew it was true

So she just sat there while he moved the pillow and grabbed the pink blanket, unfolding it to see the dingy material that was filled with some holes, a few sewn together and some just hanging open

That blanket had been with Ellie since she was a baby and she hadn’t been able to part with it since, it always staying in her bed at night

And on more than one occasion when she lived in New York, she had to text her roommate to go hide it for her when her and her boyfriend had ended up on their way back to her place

But Chris was the first one to find her with it, making Ellie’s cheeks turn pink as she tried to brush it off as just an old blanket as she attempted to grab it from his hands

“So do you sleep with it at night?” “Well I mean… yeah but-” “Then why haven’t I ever seen it before?”

And when Ellie twirled a piece of her blonde hair around her fingers, muttering that it was embarrassing, Chris just laughed and retorted, “I think it’s fuckin’ cute.”

And with that admission, their night ended with the two of them curled up in Ellie’s small bed, Chris with Ellie in his arms and Ellie holding her blanket.

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gingersnaaps · 4 years ago

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tetraphobia

maybe seijoh's revenge doesn't always have to be on the court. maybe seijoh's revenge can come in the form of fucking kageyama's sweet little girlfriend.

wc: 3.3k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, noncon, gangbang, mindbreak, victim blaming/guilt, forced infidelity, hints of sadism, anal, double penetration, deepthroat, cunnilingus, sorta overstim? idk this is very nasty, fem!reader with inner genitals, timeskip!characters

a/n: this is for @somecravings' gangbang collab! this work features the seijoh four.

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

“I wonder where Tobio-chan found himself such a cute girlfriend.”

The words freeze you in your tracks.

A tall, well-built, man leans against the wall of the hotel hallway, the cramped space making him loom large in front of you. You think he’s a stranger at first - but a closer look at the waves of his chestnut hair, his molten hazel eyes - and memories of the pictures Tobio had shown you flood back into your mind.

Oikawa Tooru, he’d told you. Teammates at Kitagawa Daiichi, and then rivals at Karasuno and Aoba Johsai. I took away his last chance to make it to nationals in high school. Now he’s on Argentina’s national team. Looked up to him a lot, but we had a… strained relationship.

His eyes flicker back to the faded yearbook photos, an unmistakable note of bitterness in his voice.

The very same Oikawa Tooru from his pictures stands in the hallway leading to your hotel room, arms crossed and eyes glittering with amusement.

Almost as if he’d been waiting there for you.

“He’s out celebrating his win, isn’t he?” he says, cocking his head to one side. “Along with the rest of his team.”

He steps closer, walking towards you until he’s mere feet away. You can see where the hem of his blue jersey peeks out from beneath his jacket, the white of his teeth glinting as he grins. Up close, he’s even more intimidating, and you suppress the sudden surge of discomfort that crawls beneath your skin.

Your eyes flit back and forth, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “Is there something you need?”

“Yes,” he says, his hand reaching out to stroke gently along your cheek. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor, sweetheart.”

Panic seizes you when his cold, calloused, fingertips brush lightly along your skin, your heart thudding as discomfort rips through your body. You don’t know what his intentions are, but his words scare you. There’s nothing genuine about his tone, nothing kind, and years of too-close encounters with men have left you wary and alert. His touch is invasive, contemptuous, mocking, and you jerk away from his hand in an attempt to backpedal-

Warm hands clamp down around your shoulders in an iron grip. Your heart sinks as you realize you’ve got nowhere to go, dread seeping into every vein in your body.

“I’m a little late. Sorry.”

The voice at your ear is a low rasp, his tone nonchalant, but you can hear the message that undercuts it as clear as day: you’re not going anywhere.

“Don’t worry about it, Iwa,” Oikawa says, fingers curling around your chin, tilting your face up forcefully until you’re staring directly into his eyes. “You got here just in time to help me out. She looked like she was about to run away for a while there. Can you imagine?”

The man behind you - Iwaizumi Hajime, you recall - chuckles. “Wouldn’t get very far.”

Your blood runs cold at the implication of his words. Your stomach churns, an awful, nauseous feeling that makes you feel sick, shoulders tensing as you struggle against Iwaizumi’s hold.

“Hey,” he warns quietly. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

His words almost make you want to laugh; he says them like he’s trying to help you, like he genuinely cares about your well-being. You remember the late-night talks you and Kageyama would have, the ones where he’d describe his days spent in middle school, secluded and walled off from the other players on his team. There was always one name he spoke with a particular reverence: Iwaizumi Hajime. Tough. Strong. Kind. A good man, he’d emphasized. I’m glad he was there during those years.

Well, this certainly was a reality check, wasn't it?

He removes his hands from your shoulders and wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you pressed close to his side, as if a reminder of you how powerless you are in this position. “Come on, baby,” he says. “Let’s go.”

“It’d be rude to keep Makki and Mattsun waiting any longer."

Oikawa slides his fingers into yours until the two of you are holding hands, humming happily as Iwaizumi escorts you down the hall towards your own hotel room. It takes every last ounce of self-control to stop yourself from crying and screaming on the spot, to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over, to save yourself the embarrassment of breaking down pathetically as these people - these assholes - watch.

You get the feeling that they’re not going to leave you alone out of pity.

They escort you to your hotel room, passing by rows and rows of rooms that blur as your vision tunnels. Their presence is suffocating; Oikawa’s fingers brush against your wrist, rubbing tender circles into your skin, and you can feel Iwaizumi's warm breath on the crown of your head.

Oikawa grabs the key card from your purse, sliding it into the scanner, and pushes the door open when it lights up green.

Your heart stills with fear as they drag you inside, flicking the light switch open until the room glows softly.

There’s two more people sitting in the bed.

A tall, lanky man waves in acknowledgement, nudging his companion in the side as his eyes flicker appraisingly over you.

The other man looks up, tossing his phone aside, blowing aside a stray strand of strawberry-pink hair.

“Hmm. I hate to say this, but Oikawa was right,” he says, a wry grin on his face. “What a pretty girl.”

You feel so vulnerable with four pairs of eyes roaming over every inch of your body, your mind running rampant with fear and anticipation as they admire and scrutinize. And you’d be right to be scared, because there’s so much they can’t wait to do, so much of you they’ve been dying to explore, so many of their little fantasies that they’ve been waiting for the right girl to help them act out.

You’ll help them out, won’t you?

Without warning, there’s a pair of hands on your waist insistently pushing you downwards, applying steady pressure until your legs collapse and you’re forced to your knees.

“So impatient, Iwa.” Oikawa clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You won’t even let her get settled in?”

There‘s a huff of annoyance above you. “The more you talk, the less I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Alright, alright.”

Oikawa slides a hand onto the back of your neck, the other moving to grip your hair. His touch is gentle, fingers stroking along your pulse point, but you know it won’t last if you misbehave. You have no illusions about the kind of person he is, not when his hands maneuver your mouth and throat into nothing more than a warm fleshlight for his friend.

Iwaizumi palms himself in front of your face, hands skimming over the bulge in his jeans as he groans in pleasure, and pulls out his half hard cock, veins throbbing and flushed with arousal. Cupping your face in his hand, he fits the tip to your soft lips and tilts your chin upwards to meet his piercing, lust-filled eyes, his gaze swirling with want.

“Open up for me like a good girl, okay?” he growls.

You can’t help the way your cunt pulses at his tone, an intoxicating rush of fear and desire that leaves your mind hazy and mouth dropping open. He doesn’t waste the opportunity, pushing his cock into your warm, wet, mouth, a moan falling from his lips as he thrusts his hips forwards. You retch at the intrusion, instinctively jerking your head backwards, but Oikawa’s grip on your neck tightens as he holds you in place. He crouches down, lips finding your ear as Iwaizumi starts sliding in and out of your mouth.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “If you take it like you’re supposed to, he won’t last too long.”

At those words, his hands push your head forward, impaling your throat on his cock, holding you down as you choke and drool and retch. Your eyes redden as silvery tears drip through your lashes, panic rising, vision turning to static, the pain in your lungs growing unbearable as Oikawa’s smile turns razor sharp. “Atta girl,” he encourages softly, his thumb wiping away one of the tears running down your cheek. “I think he’s gonna cum soon if you keep this up.”

If you keep this up. As if you have a choice.

Iwaizumi’s thrusts grow more erratic, fucking you rougher and faster as he slams in and out of your throat. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “Such a good fucking girl for me. Got such a - such a perfect little mouth, taking me so well,” he says, breath catching.

Just like Oikawa had predicted, he doesn’t last much longer after that, hips stuttering when he spills down your waiting throat. He tastes warm and slightly salty, the last few drops of his cum dripping down your chin as he presses a thumb to your lips and wipes away the drool collecting at the corner.

There’s a horrible, sinking, feeling settling inside you as he grabs the collar of your shirt and hoists you up with him onto the bed, your limbs going limp as you let him press an open-mouthed kiss to your trembling lips, his tongue slipping inside of your slack mouth.

You feel used.

Up close to Iwaizumi, you can see the flush of arousal coloring his bronzed cheeks, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, all the physical evidence of just how good you made him feel, and your stomach churns.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel fingers softly stroking at your clit, light, teasing strokes back and forth that leave you whimpering. A twinge of arousal pulses in your cunt as you hear words murmured against your inner thigh.

“Didn’t even try to fight back, did you?” There’s a gentle laugh from the pink-haired man beneath you, soft and terrifying, and the light brushes turn into more insistent circles. “It’s almost like you wanted it.”

Iwaizumi’s tongue curls deeper into your mouth as he deepens the kiss, leaving you gasping for breath.

“I had no idea you’d turn out to be such a slut,” he hums, mouth latching onto your thigh. “Although I’m really not complaining.”

“C’mon, Makki, don’t be so mean to her,” Iwaizumi chuckles, his teeth scraping roughly against your lips.

“I’m only telling the truth.”

The fingers circling your pussy creep upwards, grabbing onto your hips and pushing you down against the mattress. “Keep those legs spread nice and open for me, okay?” Makki says, voice sweet and cloying.

When the flat of his tongue brushes against your clit, his breath huffing warm on your folds, your thighs twitch involuntarily. It’s as if he’s made it his mission to eat you out as slow and light as possible, his kitten-licks and teasing strokes sliding along your folds and circling around your sweet spots without ever truly giving you the satisfaction that your cunt craves.

And he can tell you’re starting to break.

As Iwaizumi’s mouth moves down to suck at your neck, lips brushing along the erratic heartbeat of your pulse point, your hips jerk upwards against Makki’s waiting mouth as a moan slips out from between your lips.

He sucks at your aching clit, the steady, constant pressure making you writhe in his grasp. “Cute little cunt wants more, doesn’t i?” he coos.

You don’t dare say a word, face flushed with embarrassment as you bite your inner cheek in embarrassment. Makki’s right.

He’s right, and you hate that he’s right, hate how good he’s making you feel with every long, languid, lick, with every brush of his lips that leaves your walls throbbing in search of more.

A hand picks up your limp wrist, guiding your fingers until they wrap around something warm and hard, something incredibly thick and so, so, long -

You freeze as you realize it’s a cock.

“Mattsun’s blessed, isn’t he?” Makki laughs from between your thighs. “Maybe now you’ll understand that I’m really trying to do you a favor. We want these sheets stained with cum, not blood.”

You swallow nervously. That monster cock, so big you can barely fit your hand around it, is going inside you.

You’re paralyzed with dread, not even bothering to fight back as he maneuvers your palm up and down along his length, wrapping his much larger hand around yours as he uses your fist to help jerk him off.

All the revulsion in the world can’t stop the slow, mounting, wave of pressure building inside your core, growing stronger as Makki sucks with more force against your clit. Crooked fingers push inside your slick, needy, hole, his nimble digits searching and prodding, the pads of his fingertips rubbing insistently at your g-spot.

“See?” he murmurs. “‘m making you feel so good. You’re gonna be nice and ready when I’m done with you.”

You want to scream. You feel like a whore for enjoying anything at all; bile and guilt rising in your throat as white-hot arousal throbs in your cunt.

You’re strung out along the edge when you feel another mouth descending on your body, a tongue flicking out to tease at your nipple. You see a flash of chestnut brown hair as Oikawa looks up at you, a smirk curving at the corners of his mouth, almost as if he knows exactly what he’s doing, knows where your limits are and how to push right past them.

It’s too much for you to handle, too much for you to take. Three mouths ravage your body, tongues flicking out to lick at your neck and suck at your nipples and drag along your clit, silky and sensual against your soft skin, all while your slack hand pumps steadily along the shaft of a huge cock.

When an orgasm rips through your body, it’s like something stolen, something taken from you, and as your hips buck and thrash wildly, an emptiness settles in your stomach after you’re all fucked out from their ministrations.

What’s wrong with you?

At this point, you don’t feel like much more than a sex doll for the four men, all spread out and useless as you lay your head in Iwaizumi’s lap. He strokes gently at your hair, brushing a stray strand out of your face.

You barely even react as Mattsun manhandles you up, large hands positioning your hips until the head of his fully hard cock sits at your entrance, sliding just the tip into your loosened, clenching, hole.

“Ready?” he asks, his half-lidded eyes glinting with amusement.

He doesn’t really care about your answer.

“One… two… three.”

He forces you down on his cock, pushing your hips further and further down as you squirm and struggle and moan from the stretch. Your mind goes foggy as you feel the drag of his cock against the front of your walls, burying itself so deep in your cunt you can almost feel it in your stomach.

Mattsun likes it when his dick makes girls feel good, of course, when he fucks them better than their boyfriends, when he makes them cream and gush after barely moving.

He likes it better when he makes girls go stupid.

As he looks down at you, a warm rush of arousal twists in his gut. Your eyelids flutter in pleasure, mouth open and panting, small hands fisting at his shirt as you moan softly. It’s just too big for you to take, isn’t it? You can't handle being used like a pretty fuckdoll, or eaten out until you cream, or to be impaled on a cock so nice and big you can barely think straight. A string of drool falls from the corner of your mouth, but he doesn’t bother cleaning it up. You look better ruined, he thinks.

You’re dragged out of your fucked-out daze when a voice crawls into your ear, taunting and cruel, and a warm dick presses and slides along your ass.

“Bet Kageyama’s never tried this before,” Oikawa says.

A spurt of terror grips you as you hear the thinly-veiled anticipation in his voice, his fingers trembling with excitement as they grope at your ass.

He holds back a laugh at the way you freeze, shuddering in a mixture of fear and pleasure as Mattsun rolls his hips up and thrusts his cock even deeper. He knows he guessed right, judging from your cute little reaction, a high-pitched, pathetic whimper dropping from your lips as brushes his cock against your hole.

He hopes it hurts.

When he presses in, it’s a slow, aching, stretch that leaves you feeling raw and split wide open. Unlike the dull pain from Mattsun’s cock, this one is a searing, brutal, torment, a stinging intrusion in your tight hole that forces a choked gasp from your lungs.

“Wish your boyfriend could see us right now,” he breathes, pressing a gentle kiss to the crook of your neck. “Feels so good squeezing my cock, so fucking nice and tight.”

Tobio.

Panic races along your veins. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, breasts bouncing slightly as your breaths come shallow and rapid.

“I can’t imagine how he’d feel - seeing his perfect little angel getting stuffed so full in both her precious holes.”

The tightness in your chest bursts as tears stream down your face, cries and moans coming out thick and stuffy as you sob. You know he’s right. It didn’t matter that it was forced, that you said you didn’t want it - you already came once, didn’t you? And judging by the tense pleasure pulsing at your clit, you were due for another sooner or later.

Oikawa laughs. “It’d be awful if he came back right now, wouldn’t it? Just in time to watch his precious little girlfriend getting raped by his former senpai.”

Mattsun snickers, bring a hand up to swipe at your clit. “Look,” he says softly, tilting your head until you lock eyes with Makki.

He’s fisting his cock rapidly, a hungry, predatory, expression on his face, tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he lets out a pleasured groan.

It’s better than almost any of his gross little fantasies. He’s not sure his favorite porn videos will ever be able to compare to the sight of you being fucked stupid and split in two by his friends, two cocks sliding in and out of your tired holes as you cry.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the first waves of the orgasm begin to roll over you. Mattsun’s deft, long, fingers toy with your clit, stroking you insistently through the wild jerking of your hips as he feels your walls fluttering and creaming around the base of his dick. The pleasure is intense, unbearable, almost impossible to hold back, even as disgust crawls beneath your skin at the feeling of being stretched wide open.

Maybe they were right.

All those times you’d thought about what you’d do if this happened, every single night when you’d lie awake and tell yourself, i’ll fight back. i’ll resist. i’ll make them regret ever forcing me -

They were all lies.

Oikawa feels a sick sense of satisfaction as he watches the turmoil in your expression. He can tell by the slump of your shoulders, the bitterness in your gaze, the way you turn over to your side and curl up into a fetal position - they broke you, turned you into a mindless, slutty, fuckdoll, showed you who you really were.

Kageyama can have you back now. He’ll come into this hotel room, horrified at the sight of you passed out and naked, and call the police. Maybe he’ll help wash you up, bring you a cup of tea as you sob and insist that it wasn’t your fault. Maybe he’ll even believe you, despite the way you’ve stained the sheets.

But things won’t ever really be the same for you.

They made sure of it.

if you liked this, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! my inbox is always open :)

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queen-haq · 2 years ago

Text

Fic: Alive [Prologue + Ch 1]

Rating: PG-13 for this part.

Summary: Aidan traced the thin chain around his neck, rubbing the infinity pendant between his fingers. No longer a symbol of their everlasting love, it was something he touched in anger when he thought of Sage. It was the only thing of hers that still remained with him after eight years, the last possession which still connected them together. When he did find Sage again, and he would no matter how long it took, he planned to destroy the pendant - and her.

Taking place across two timelines, Alive tells the story of Aidan and Sage, high school sweethearts driven apart by who they are and where they come from. Once enemies then lovers, their relationship runs full circle when they meet again in the present, now prepared to destroy each other.

Now...

Aidan Carrington awoke with a start. He didn't have to look at his cell phone to know that it was 11:15am. Thanks to his annoying internal clock, he was up at the same time every morning. Most people would be at work at this time, but he wasn't most people.

Some mornings when he was wasted enough, he could picture her standing by the door. Sage. His Sage. She would give him a teasing smile; taunt him with one of her snarky wisecracks. Often her long, beautiful dark hair would be wet, as if she'd just stepped out of the shower, and she would slowly drop the towel and beckon him to come over.

Today she wasn't at the door but he was drunk. His head was throbbing with pain, and he was about to get up when a slender hand slid over his chest. He looked at the sharp, claw-like nails resting on him and hoped they hadn't made too many scratches on his back. He turned to look at the woman beside him. She was fast asleep, her red hair partially covering her face. He had no idea who she was.

Pushing himself off the bed, he almost threw up but managed to make it to the bathroom without retching. Lately he seemed to have horrible hangovers every time he went on a drinking binge, and today was no exception. He paid his respects to the porcelain gods for several minutes before stepping into the shower.

Later as Aidan glanced at his reflection in the mirror, he realized he had a black eye - which meant he had probably been in some sort of fight last night. Too bad he couldn't remember it, but thank God for the internet. He wouldn't know what the hell he had done half the time if it weren't for people following him around and snapping pictures of him. By now TMZ had probably already posted what happened along with pictures of him next to his infamous father. Not only would they write about their striking physical resemblance (they were both tall and possessed a rugged physique) but would also discuss their similar destructive, violent personalities ad nausem. Aidan had learned long ago to ignore the false comparisons; he was nothing like that bastard. Nothing. As for his looks, he had his mother's hazel eyes which meant he hadn't inherited everything from his asshole of a father.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked out of the bathroom and over to the closet to grab some clothes. The floor creaked, waking up sleeping beauty, but he ignored the soft moan that drifted into his ears. Slipping a t-shirt over his head, he dropped the towel and pulled on a pair of boxers and jeans.

"Hey gorgeous."

Turning around, he caught his first glimpse of her face. She was hot. Without liquor in his system though, she did nothing for him. His expensive sheets were wrapped around her tight body, and she blushed under his gaze as he sauntered towards her. Typical. He knew the effect his good looks had on women. She wasn't any different.

When he knelt on the bed, she puckered her lips in expectation of a kiss. Instead he leaned over her to grab the clothes that were strewn behind and handed them to her. From the stunned expression on her face, it was obvious she hadn't expected that.

Shortly after, Aidan was downstairs and pouring himself a cup of coffee as the redhead came stomping down the stairs. She shot him a dirty look; he flashed a smile and tipped his cup at her.

"Asshole!" she bit out, slipping into her shoes.

He smirked. "What was your name again?"

She walked to the door but not before throwing one last parting shot at him. "Like father like son.”

His eyes turned cold; she took a cautious step back and left in a hurry. He figured she'd sell her story to TMZ, detailing their night together. Maybe he'd give it a read, considering he couldn't remember most of it anyway.

He was taking a bite of his toast when a brunette on the TV screen caught his attention. She was beautiful, and attempting to seduce her partner in a bathroom. His mind flashed back to a similar incident with Sage from high school. She had sent him a text earlier that day, asking him to meet her in the bathroom on the third level. It was hardly ever used, but of course the moment they started making out they were interrupted by a freshman walking in on them. He remembered barking at her to get out while Sage buried her face in his chest with embarrassment. Later, rumors of him being sucked-off by some mystery chick had spread like wildfire through school. His friends had begged to know who the girl was. He'd said nothing.

He traced the thin chain around his neck, rubbing the infinity pendant between his fingers. No longer a symbol of their everlasting love, it was something he touched in anger when he thought of Sage. It was the only thing of hers that still remained with him, the last possession which still connected them together; he'd burned everything else a long time ago.

When he did find Sage again, and he would no matter how long it took, he planned to destroy the pendant - along with her.

Chapter One

Eight years earlier

Sage Alvi's first day in Belleville Private Academy was going exactly as expected - long, horrible, and everyone was snotty as hell. The racial slurs against her Arab ethnicity were a nice surprise though. At first she didn't realise high school Barbie was talking to her when she whispered "terrorist", but after the third utterance of the ever imaginative "raghead" by another one of her half-sister's friends, Sage realised it was all for her benefit.

The bell rang, signaling the beginning of lunch, just in time to distract her from dwelling on memories of her mom. Sage followed the rest of the students out of the algebra class and headed to her locker. Shortly after, she was standing outside, holding a lunch tray in her hands. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and she had to admit there was something to be said for the California weather after all. Eating outdoors in the middle of January was not really an option in Chicago, unless she wanted to freeze her ass off. Then again, she would happily sit through the most frigid of winters if it meant she could have her old life back - her home, her friends. Mom.

"Hey, you!"

Sage realised the tall, dark-haired jock-type was talking to her when he gestured her to come closer. She'd seen him around the house this past week, hanging out with Theo, her half-brother, and snickering whenever she passed by them. Aidan. That was his name. She'd actually wondered if there was something going on between the two because he'd been staying in Theo's room for a few days and had only left to come to school this morning.

She knew it would be smarter to ignore them, especially since Cat was sitting next to him. If anyone hated their current situation more than Sage, it was her half-sister, and Cat had expressed her full-on hatred by being a complete bitch to her. As if that wasn't bad enough, they were surrounded by other students including the brunette who had called her terrorist that first time. Ignoring her instincts to stay put - she wasn't a coward! - she steeled herself and walked towards them.

"So you're the charity case staying with the Woods," Aidan said, sneering, while the group around him snickered.

She smiled back at him, voice dripping with sarcasm. “No, I’m the very special house guest. Who the fuck are you?”

“How long you planning on mooching off of them?”

"You tell me. What is it, Day 5 now since you’ve been staying over at the house?”

"Aidan has more of a right to be with us than you," Cat fired back.

"Really? You sure about that?" Sage knew Cat wouldn't dare say anything else lest Sage were to "accidentally" let the truth slip about their biological relationship. Their father, Thomas Woods, had asked Sage not to reveal to anyone outside their immediate family that she was his illegitimate child, at least not yet. He said he needed more time to process her sudden appearance in his life before it was made public, but in the last week Sage realised Thomas had aspirations for a political career, which meant an illegitimate daughter with a young intern wouldn't exactly be great for his campaign. Frankly, she didn't really care if he claimed her as his own; she had been perfectly fine without a father for sixteen years.

Aidan snapped his fingers to capture Sage's attention, and she leveled him with a cold stare. This guy was starting to piss her off.

"Don't talk to Cat. Talk to me."

"Why? I don’t want to talk to either one of you.”

"You should be kissing her ass for taking you in."

“Is that what you’ve been doing? Kissing ass? No wonder the three of you are always locked in a room together.”

An awkward silence fell over the group. They weren't expecting her to fight back, and now most of them appeared uncomfortable. Except for Aidan who was smirking and seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Jealous?" he taunted.

"Bored.”

"We not fun enough for you?”

“Not really."

He leaned forward, his hazel eyes focused intently on her, and she sensed the anger simmering underneath the insincere smile. "Heard chunky girls like you are good with their mouths."

"We are. Need lessons?"

"Who taught you how to give head? Your mom?"

She froze, finding it difficult to breathe through the sea of rage that washed over her. How dare he talk about Layal like that?

"Cat texted me a pic. Very hot. No nudes though. Know where I can get some?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

The gleam in his eye sharpened now that he'd finally found her weakness. It was a mistake on her part to reveal it, but she didn't care.

"Sucks that she's dead. Lost my chance at riding that hot piece of ass."

Her anger was red-hot and blinding, allowing her instincts to take over, and she hurled her tray at Aidan. Her sandwich went flying past him but the bottle of orange juice hit him just above the eye before crashing down on the bench and breaking into pieces, juice dripping all over his pants.

The choruses of "what is going on here?", "that psychotic bitch", and the hysterical screaming blended into a huge blur for her. The only thing she was focused on was Aidan and the fucking smirk on his face as he rubbed his bruise.

*****

Sage sat outside Principal Smith's office, waiting for Thomas Woods to show up. After the altercation at lunch, Smith had phoned her father right away as the "three of them needed to have a discussion about her disruptive behaviour if she was going to continue to attend Belleville Academy". Considering how disastrous her morning had been, she was hoping they would simply expel her. Maybe then Thomas would allow her to return to Chicago. She could stay with a friend temporarily or maybe even rent a small apartment near her old high school. Her father was apparently wealthy (ironic considering how much she and her mom had always struggled with money), and she hoped he wouldn't mind supporting her until she was able to fend for herself. She didn't really care where she went, as long as it was far away from here. She hated everything about this place, from the new family that seemed to hold her personally responsible for her father's stupidity, to this pretentious hellhole of a school.

Thomas appeared at the office door, dressed in a designer suit that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. Up until six weeks ago she had believed her father was dead but here he was, with the same features she possessed and had always wondered about. This whole thing still felt strange to her, like she was caught up in a nightmare that refused to end. Unfortunately it wasn't a dream, not at all. It was a horrible reality in which she had lost her mother to pancreatic cancer and had gained a stranger as a father. Considering she'd inherited Layal's brown skin tone, along with her silky dark hair and brown eyes, she had always identified herself as an Arab-American. So imagine her surprise when her father turned out to be Caucasian. She still hadn't come to terms with that or his presence in her life.

Layal had taught her to speak Arabic from an early age, and it was how they often communicated with each other. Thanks to conservative grandparents who had condemned and rejected her mom for becoming pregnant while unwed, Sage had never known any family other than Layal. They had always shared a close bond with each other. Now she was gone, and Sage had no one left in this world she loved.

"Is it true? Did you attack another student at lunch?" Thomas asked, his eyebrows furrowing with disapproval as he interrogated her.

"He said some horrible things about mom. I wasn't going to let him get away with it."

For a second his features softened, and she wondered if there was an actual personality hidden underneath that cold exterior. Her mom had been an amazing, vibrant, loving person but Sage couldn't understand what had attracted Layal to the man in front of her. Yeah, he was rich and some would call him handsome, but he seemed so blank and lifeless to her.

"Maybe you misunderstood."

"I doubt it."

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway. Just because he made you upset doesn't mean you resort to violent retaliation. That's not how we do things here, Sage. Maybe all of us can sit down and talk it out."

She rolled her eyes, amazed at his gullible nature. Did he really think a discussion was going to solve this? "I think you're giving that jackass too much credit."

"Please don't be vulgar."

The secretary must have informed Principal Smith when Thomas came in because a second later he strode out of his office and extended his hand to shake Thomas'.

"Mr. Woods, I'm sorry we had to meet again under these circumstances but as you are Ms. Alvi's legal guardian-"

"Cut the dog and pony show and tell me how we can fix things."

"Alright, why don't the three of us go into my office?"

"I'd rather not involve Sage. She can wait here for us."

She watched as the two men disappeared into the office and shut the door behind them. It amazed her how Thomas could be this condescending and still have the principal eating out of his hand. Did money and status really yield this much power? It was frightening, really.

Being expelled from this hellhole was obviously not going to happen if Thomas had anything to do with it. Which meant she was stuck here, in this ignorant place where she'd encountered more prejudices than she had in her entire time in McKinnon High. Her previous high school did not have the best reputation - it was the only school in a neighbourhood mostly known for crime and violence - but at least there wasn’t a lot of internal racist crap to deal with.

Exhaling a resigned sigh, she leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

An image of her mom popped into her head, and Sage had to force herself to think of Layal during happier times, before the cancer had destroyed her. Her mom had been gorgeous, and always garnered a lot of attention from others. Sage remembered often wishing that she looked like her mom and complaining to her about it. Layal would simply smile and assure Sage she was beautiful. Sage knew it had been a lie, after all that was what moms were supposed to say, but she didn't care. It made her feel great anyway.

Losing her mom had left a deep, hollow ache in her heart which refused to subside, yet Sage couldn't bring herself to cry. She hadn't shed any tears when she discovered Layal would be taken from her thanks to the cancer that had been diagnosed too late, or when her mother had lain in her deathbed in hospice care and made Sage promise to accept her father into her life. She hadn't even cried during the funeral service that Sage had had to plan after Layal passed away. She felt nothing but an emptiness and she didn't know why.

The office door opened and Thomas strode out, looking less frustrated than he had going in.

"Mr. Smith and I discussed it and I explained to him your side of things. He understands you're going through a difficult phase right now and today's incident was an isolated one."

"Yeah well, I can't promise to control my temper if that jackass insults mom again."

"You don't need to worry. I'll speak to Aidan myself. Why don't you grab your things and I'll drive you home?"

The thought of being alone was a lot more appealing than spending it here amongst these horrible people, and she readily agreed.

Shortly after, in the privacy of the pool house that Thomas and his wife, Stacey, had designated as her space, she collapsed back onto the bed and pondered her current situation. Stacey clearly despised her and while Sage understood how difficult this must have been for her, she didn't appreciate that both Stacey and Cat seemed to hold her responsible for Thomas's infidelity. At first, Sage had worried she would be forced to deal with them every day during dinner, but after moving in two weeks ago she realised the Woods family didn't really spend any time with each other. That in itself was strange to her. While Layal hadn't always had her evenings off on account of the two jobs she held down, her mom ensured they spent a lot of quality time together.

Things were very different here, and despite her pessimistic attitude, Sage still had to give this living arrangement a shot.

After all, it's what she had promised her mom.

To be continued...

A/N - Thoughts?

#original fiction #original fic #romance novels #romance #enemies to lovers #my fics

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spidernerdsblog · 4 years ago

Note

Hey can I request for a REALLY dirty smut with tom involving innocence kink and exhibitionism (public sex)?

Hope you like this...

Pairing : Frat! Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings : 18+, SMUT, mature content, language, library sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Stress relief

T : where are you?

Y : library

T : miss you<3

Y : will be studying late

T : :( :(

Y : sorry babe :/

You shake your head, smiling at the screen of your phone before focusing back on the textbook in front of you. Your exams were starting from the next week and you had been working hard since the last week staying up late at the library making notes and completely ignoring your boyfriend. The library was almost empty at this time except for a few nerds like you sitting and studying hard.

After sometime you stood up from your desk and made your way to the bookshelves. You walked along the towering bookshelves looking for the book you needed humming a soft tune to yourself contentedly. You kinda liked it here the silence was so peaceful mixed with the musty smell of old books. These huge bookshelves stacked with books were the gates of heaven for a nerd like you, you found your solace here. You stopped at the history section and scanned the books.

Your hand reached out to the book you were looking for when you felt a pair of hands creep around your waist. You jumped out of fright as the book fell from your hand with a soft thud. You were about to shriek but a firm hand came up to your mouth.

“Ssh ssh, darling. It’s just me” Tom hushed you. You turned around your heart still racing to find Tom.

“Jeez! What are you doing here?” You whisper yelled.

“I came looking for you” he states in a hushed tone

“Why?”

“I was missing you so much”

“But I texted you a few minutes ago that I’ll be studying late”

“Did you?” he mused “must have it slipped my mind” He shrugged with a lopsided grin.

“I have to study for the exams Tom”

“But babe I missed you this whole week” he pouted with puppy eyes placing a hand above your head on the bookshelf slightly leaning over you. You tilted your head to the side and studied his face, his brown eyes lingering up and down your face with a glint of mischief in them as he placed another hand on the shelf by the side of your head. You were suddenly very aware of the position you were in.

He had you pressed against the bookshelf, his body towering over you trapping you between him and the bookshelf. Tom slid a hand down the bookshelf stopping beside your hips as he placed a knee between your legs keeping them apart. You swallowed dryly as his warm breath fanned your face.

You wanted to push him off but was frozen under his piercing gaze as you observed his features under the dim light of the room, god he looked so handsome in just a simple hoodie and jeans, a loose curl falling over his forehead as you gazed deep into his hazel brown eyes.

“Y/N” Tom whispered, breaking you out of your trance. His gaze dropped to your parted lips as he inched closer. Your breath hitched when you felt his warm breath fanning your face.

“Tom” your voice quavered as felt heat pool between your legs. Tom noticed the hesitation in your eyes as he knelt down to your ear brushing his lips

“C’mon love, you have been studying really hard you need to relax” he mumbled against your sensitive skin as you shuddered gasping between ragged breaths. Tom knew he had you wrapped around his fingers since the day he laid eyes on you at the frat party. You were standing at a corner dressed in a sweatshirt and skirt just like today looking so sweet and innocent. He was instantly drawn towards you. He feels really happy that he was the one to take your virginity. But the thing that awed him the most was how shy and inexperienced you were and it just filled his mind with all the filthy things he could do to you. From then on he found immense pleasure in corrupting you slowly and slowly.

Tom nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck as he inhaled the sweet scent of your body mist. You let out a soft moan when he placed open mouthed kisses on the column of your neck, sucking marks all over your skin when you felt his prominent bulge brush against the inside of your thigh. You were thankful that this side of the library is mostly deserted so nobody will know what you both are up to.

Tom snaked his hand under your sweatshirt and pulled down your bra to squeeze your breasts. Light whimpers escaped your lips as your hand went to his head threading with his soft brown curls. Your judgement was clouded by lust but a voice at the back of your mind kept on reminding you that this is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing it in the library. Anybody can walk in on you.

“Tomm..” your voice came out more like a moan as Tom continued to nibble on your skin. “Tom we can’t do this.. Not here” you squirmed though you didn’t want him to stop either.

Tom lifted his face from your neck and looked at you with lust blown eyes “Ssh babygirl” he shushes you placing a finger on your lips “you think a lot, you know. Stop stressing that little brain of yours and feel” he whispers with a husky tone.

And that was it for you to shut the voice inside your head. Fuck resolve.

You pulled him towards you by the collar of his hoodie crashing your lips to his as you felt him smirk against your lips. He pried your mouth open with his tongue sliding inside exploring your mouth. His hand moved down to your legs and slid up your skirt to feel your clothed heat soaked with arousal.

“Shit so wet already” he said grinning and pushed aside your panties sliding in two long digits between your slick folds. Your hips bucked against his hand when he pressed a thumb on your clit rubbing slow circles as his fingers pumped in and out of you at a steady pace. You felt your orgasm slowly building up when Tom pulled out his fingers all of a sudden. You let out a whine in protest as he grinned at you wickedly bringing the two fingers coated with your arousal to his mouth and sucked them clean.

“So sweet” he hums as you grind your crotch against his erection “look at you acting like a needy slut now when a while ago you were the one stopping me” he chuckles

“Tom please…” you whine biting your lips which turns him on even more.

“What is it princess? What do you want?” he croons.

“Need you, your cock inside me please” it came as a desperate plea from you.

“How can I say no to my princess? Turn around babe” he instructed as you turned around and gripped on the bookshelf arching your back and perched your ass for him. He flipped your skirt and pulled down your lace panties at one go.

He then went to unbutton his jeans and pulled down his boxers enough to free his throbbing member. He grabs his cock and gives himself a few pumps before rubbing it through your wet folds lining himself to your entrance. He pushes inside slowly as you bite down a moan. A long groan escaped from his own lips feeling your tight walls around him.

“Shit so tight!” he grunts, sheathing himself inside you completely. He waited for a few seconds to let you adjust and then he pulled back slamming right back in again. He picked up his pace pounding into you deep as you tried your best to suppress your moans. His hands gripping on your hips pulling you back to match with his thrusts stretching you out deliciously. Your legs were trembling with the force he was drilling himself inside you. If he wasn’t holding you tight, your legs would have given out by now.

With one particular thrust Tom pushed himself deeper hitting your sweet spot as a loud moan threatened to fall out from your mouth but before it could happen he pulled you back by your neck, your back pressed against his chest as he captured your lips messily muffling your noises.

“You gotta maintain silence, love it's a library” he chuckles against your mouth “Don’t want to get caught do you?” you shook your head in a frantic no as he rams inside you with an unfaltering pace.

“God you got even more wet, does the thought of getting caught by someone turn you on baby?” he taunts as you feel your face turn red in embarrassment “Imagine if somebody walks in right now, imagine the look on their face as they see me fuck this needy cunt of yours” he whispers in your ears as you clench around him at the thought.

“Oh squeezing me real tight, knew you were a pathetic whore behind this innocent face” he grunts, his calloused fingers finding your throbbing bud and rubbing harsh circles as your head falls back in pleasure feeling yourself tethering to the edge.

”but their bad luck no one gets to see what’s mine” he growls “this pussy belongs to me” he grits under his teeth thrusting inside you hitting your spot repeatedly as you feel the coil inside you tighten.

“Tom..please..” you whimpered eyes fluttering shut.

“What is it baby? You wanna cum?” he cooes

“Yes Tom please let me cum” you plead breathlessly.

“Go on darling, cum for me” he urges as your body convulses your orgasm washed over you in little waves. Your walls spasmed around him making him reach his own high as he spilled his warmth inside. You were totally drained out as Tom dropped his head at the crook of your neck panting, your legs felt like jelly as you held on the bookshelf for support.

Suddenly you heard a screech, of someone pushing their chair back followed by footsteps approaching in your direction. Tom slid out of you and pulled back his jeans hastily. You fixed your top and skirt and looked for your panties on the floor frantically.

“You, looking for these?” Tom asks with a smug grin, your eyes darting to his hand waving your panties mid air.

“Tom give them back!” you went to snatch it from him but he moved his hand away.

“Ah ah not so easily” he chuckles.

“Tom I can’t go around like this” you argued already feeling his cum leaking out of you down your thighs.

“You know where’s my room right? Come and get it if you want them back” he shrugged nonchalantly as you looked at him stunned.

“Study hard!” mischief in his voice as he sent a wink your way while tucking your panties in his back pocket and left.

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

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #frat!tom

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goldenkirstein · 4 years ago

Text

i'd be home with you

or alternatively, jean has a bad day at work, and you pamper him

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

zuzu requested: Modern AU Jean/fem reader where Jean comes home after a really long day at work (his shift ends later than yours does so you always come in a few hours before him) He's in a rly pissy mood but you think it's adorable so you give him a nice tight hug and he relaxes a bit 😭 then you coax him towards the bedroom so you can pamper him, asking him to place his head on your lap so you can rub his temples until he falls asleep...

pairing: jean x fem! reader

wc: 2.2k+

tags: fluff, some angst (?) modern! au, female reader, language, mentions of food.

a/n: this was so much fun to write, I love jean and always wanna take care of him bhsbhsbh, i changed up some things to make it fit, and it kinda got a teeeeensy but angsty but not too much. i hope you enjoy.

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You outstretched your arms, eyes glancing over to the clock in the corner of the living room.

Jean should be home soon.

The sound of the ticking clock filled the room as you laid back down on the couch, the side of your face pressed against the cool leather of the armrest, fingers lazily grazing over the pale white stitches, the bumps and ridges comforting you while you waited for your husband to come home.

Not too long after, you heard the familiar noise of the keys jingle against the doorknob, prompting you to shift your body to watch Jean as he walked through the front door; your lips quirked into a gentle smile, and you got up to greet him.

However, you noticed that he wasn’t his usual cheery self today. Weariness was clear as day on his face. He raised his eyebrows at you, the only indication that he acknowledged your presence.

He struggled to slip off his shoes until eventually sighing and reaching down to untie them, hair falling in front of his face, he cursed under his breath. You let out a giggle, immediately slapping your hand over your mouth, suppressing the noise.

“What are you laughing about?” He furrowed his brows, following your eyes until he realized you were staring at the socks peeping out of his shoes.

Tiny fried eggs decorated the navy socks he was wearing. He looked back up at you, an amused expression on your face, still trying to suppress your laughter.

His shoulders drooped, and he scowled at you, “knew I shouldn’t have worn these dumb socks today.”

You frowned and made your way over to him, “aww, baby, I wasn’t laughing at you, and hey, you love those socks! You look so cute with them on! ”

Jean turned his face away from you, “I’m not cute,” your frown deepened, and you brought your hand up to his face, causing him to look at you. Your wedding band was cool contrast against his cheek.

“Sure you are, my love. Did you not have a good day today?” At that, his eyes fluttered shut. He brought his hand up to remove yours; however, his hand lingered, resting on top of yours.

“Gonna take that as a no then.”

He nodded in agreement before opening his eyes and dropping his hand. You traced your fingers on his cheek until moving your arm around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. Jean wrapped his arms around your torso, relaxing into your touch. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathing in his cologne, “missed you today, baby.”

You felt him release a deep breath, and you moved your hand to run your fingers through his hair. He hugged you tighter in response to your action, “missed you too.” His voice a low grumble.

Jean let go first, mumbling a quick thank you, and he gave you a slight smile, the first sign of happiness you could see on his face since he walked through the door minutes prior.

He began to bend down to finish taking off his shoes before you stopped him, “Nuh-uh, come with me.”

You gently tugged him up by elbow before clasping his hand in yours, leading the both of you into your bedroom. He opened his mouth in protest, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, hun? Someone requires some T.L.C.” Pronouncing every letter with a slight lilt in your voice, you turned your head to smile at your husband; his eyebrows were still furrowed, shoulders carrying the weight of the day on him. You knew that if you left Jean to his own devices, he would end up bottling his feelings and act like nothing was wrong.

Your feet padded gently into the room; Jean followed suit. He pulled at your hand to let him go, but you weren’t giving up that easy. He was a stubborn man, no doubt about it, but after years of being together, when it came to Jean, you were just as headstrong.

Smoothing your palm over the soft beige bedsheets, you sat down, tapping your clothed thigh, “come lay down; you’ll feel better if you do.” You watched the man in front of you clench his jaw, tired, hazel eyes gazing into yours.

“I haven’t even taken my shoes off yet.” He sighed; your only response was to tug him closer to your seated frame. Pouting your lips up at him, you watched him chew the inside of his cheek before finally obliging.

“See, that wasn’t so hard” You grinned as you saw Jean sit down next to you and lay his head in your lap, ash brown hair splaying across your thighs. He hummed in content when he felt you run your fingers through the hair near his temples. “You wanna talk about what happened?” Jean shook his head, furrowing his brows once again. You swiped your thumb over the creased skin, causing his expression to soften.

He blinked his eyes up at you, “you don’t have to do this; I’m fine.” He tried to get up, but you pressed your palm against his chest, eyes pleading. You tilted your head at him, gazing with tenderness before hunching over to lightly kiss his forehead.

“Let me take care of you, Jeanie? Please?”

He laid back down, allowing you to rub his temples, taking away the pain of the day. It was the least you could do; on days where you felt unloveable, Jean would be there for you, holding you, whispering reassurances in your ear, delicately reminding you of his love and lending his strength to you when you needed it. So, while it pained your heart to watch Jean feel less than, it was second nature to you; you would always be there for him when he needs it.

The repetitive movements of the pads of your fingers against his head were soothing him, Jean’s eyelids were heavy, the time he spent with his eyes shut getting longer and longer with each passing minute.

“Haven’t taken my socks off.” He whispered, sleep overtaking him; his speech was slightly slurred.

“Don’t worry, you just sleep.” You continued massaging his head until his breathing steadied, eyes no longer opening. You smiled at the sight; he looked so peaceful and beautiful when he slept. Pausing your movements, you bent down and gave him another kiss on his forehead, smoothing the hair on his head.

You lifted him off your lap, sliding out from underneath him, and softly placed his head down on a pillow, careful not to disturb him. He shifted, turning to face the window next to the bed. The sun was beginning to set, and the slivers of orange light peeking through the curtains dusted over Jean’s face.

“My beautiful boy.” Warmth spread over your chest as you watched your husband rest, content that at this moment, his worries were not plaguing him.

You slid off his shoes, chuckling at the sight of socks once more. Jean had called the socks dumb, but you knew that he loved them. When you got them for him for his birthday, you remembered how he laughed when he unwrapped the package; the sound rang through the air, causing you to giggle at his reaction, before he reached over to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, murmuring a soft thank you through a wide-toothed smile.

After pulling off his socks, you quietly got him out of his dress shirt and pants and slipped a pair of sweatpants over his legs before drawing the comforter over his body and placing a kiss on his shoulder.

Jean awoke to the smell of spices wafting in from the kitchen; he rubbed his eyes. It was dark outside. He wondered how he got into bed; the last thing he remembered was him laying in your lap.

Oh.

The young man felt a wave of guilt wash over his body. He realized that he was wearing sweatpants, his office attire neatly hanging in the closet adjacent to him. Jean groaned and pulled the covers off his body; had he been sleeping all this time? You were working away in the kitchen, you even took off his shoes, and here he was, lazing away like a dog.

It was pathetic, he thought, making you take care of him just because he had a bad day at work. Jean stepped out of the bedroom; stretching out his limbs, he made his way over to the kitchen, the smell of food getting more robust with each step.

You turned when you heard the soft padding of his feet against the kitchen tile, “you’re awake! Did you sleep well?” You beamed at him before turning your attention back to the stovetop.

He padded over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “you seriously don’t have to do this; I’m alright.” His voice husky, vibrating against your back.

You shifted your body to look at him, quizzical expression painting your face, “why won’t you let me pamper you? Don’t you deserve that?”

Jean was silent.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me, Jean.” Your hand left the handle of the pan and held onto the hands around your middle. “Let me carry some of that burden. Let me.”

“It’s not fair.” Jean’s eyes between yours and the food on the stove.

“What’s not fair, baby? You take care of me when I’m sick when I can barely get out of bed. Isn’t that the vow we made to each other?” You paused, watching as Jean’s head fell into the crook of your neck. “I won’t love you any less, and I certainly will not let you act like everything is fine when it’s not. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but just allow me to look after you.”

“You tell me how much you love me every day, so let me show you how much I love you through this, okay?”

Jean wondered what stars aligned for him to find someone like you. He still felt guilty, but he knew that arguing would be futile, so he finally succumbed, “I love you.”

His mouth curled up into a slight smile; he meant it every time he said it, even when the both of you had been arguing or when you left for work, he meant it every single time.

You didn’t think it was possible, but your heart grew in fondness for Jean, “I know.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before returning yours to the handle.

Jean’s stomach grumbled, causing him to groan. You let out a laugh, “See, I knew you hadn’t eaten at work. Go sit; I’ll finish up this Omurice.”

He slipped his arms away from your waist before going to sit on the stool near the kitchen island, head resting on his propped-up palm, watching as you plate up the food.

His eyes twinkled with adoration, the guilt in his chest dissipating as he noticed how much care you’re putting into the meal. There was a time that Jean didn’t think he was worthy of being loved, but having you in his life pieced him back together again.

You made your way over to him, handing him a fork and setting down the plate. Your husband took it from your hands, giving you a questioning look, before taking a bite. His eyes widened, “this is really fucking good, here try some.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, glad that he liked the food; Jean brought the fork to your lips, which you opened, the warm rice and luscious egg filled your mouth, you shut your eyes, savouring the taste, "holy shit."

Jean laughed at your surprise, taking another bite of the food. You went over to a drawer to grab a fork before sitting next to him to eat.

When both of you finished your meal, you stood up to grab the plate to clean it. However, Jean halted you before you could pick it up, "let me."

His voice came out a gentle whisper, but it was sincere; you nodded your head, relaxing back in your seat, watching as the man went around the kitchen island to clean the utensils.

He worked swiftly in silence. After drying the plate and placing it in the cupboard, Jean looked up at you, "thank you for this."

"You don't have to thank me, my love."

He blushed at your words, "still, I'm so lucky to have you; I don't know if I tell you that enough."

You stood up and made your way over to Jean, his hands rested on your hips, and you moved your fingers to brush away the few strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes. He smiled tenderly at you before pulling you closer to him by your hips.

He pressed his lips against yours, and you reciprocated the kiss, soft lips melding against each other. His hands travelled up your sides, eventually cupping your face. You smiled against his lips before pulling away.

"I'll love you always, Jean." Your hands came up to hold his, and you turned your cheek to press a kiss into his palm.

"I know."

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this !! any feedback is appreciated !! i'm really not sure what is going on with tagging, but if anyone knows how to fix the issue of certain people not being able to get tagged that would be super helpful !!

taglist: @c0urtn3y, @depressedbisexual, @dai-tsukki-desu, @clean-soap

click here to join my taglist

As always, please leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed this, I appreciate it lots <33

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eremiie · 4 years ago

Text

hbd cornelius springer <3

❥ nsfw | 3.2k words | connie x fem!reader

❥ content - blowjob

❥ the birthday boy deserves some birthday head!!!

happy birthday connie springer, and happy belated birthday @arlerted ily both a whole lot <3... i started this at like 4am so pls bare with this

"you enjoying your birthday?"

connie turns around at the sound of your voice, soda can in hand while he closes the fridge door.

the way his face lights up when he connects your voice to your face makes you beam. his eyes get wide, eyebrows rise up, and a crooked smile graces his features as you walk forth, your hand trailing against the kitchen counter.

it makes you smile, the ways he's immediately stoked to see you. it's endearing if anything and your heart flutters at the excitement that twinkles in his eyes at your appearance.

"duh... yeah of course i like it."

his stupid smile shifts into a small smirk and he picks up his drink to take another sip. "what're you lookin' at?"

seriously? were you that obvious?

he leans back against the corner of the kitchen counter, twirling the soda can in his hand to shake his drink up while steadying himself with his elbows. you can tell the question was one he was genuinely waiting on an answer for— it was to just rile you up and one for him to shrug off with a 'just messin'.

you roll your eyes. there was no reason to give him an ego. "your ugly party hat." your tone is snarky, and a breathy laugh leaves connie's throat as he shakes his head at you. he beckons with two slender fingers.

"come 'ere."

your stomach turns at the gesture— no at the sentence and you curse the slight stubbornness that keeps you standing where you stood with your arms crossed. "what?"

connie holds your gaze easily, and instead of giving you an answer his hand reaches out to pull you towards him by your forearm.

you stumble forward until you were situated between his feet, a strong hand encasing your wrists and his breath fanning across your face from the proximity of you and connie.

his eyes look more hazel up close, green and yellow dancing like a fiery bright fire. you can feel the denim of his jeans rub against the fat flesh of your thighs from where you stand, and connie makes no effort to move back.

it's a clear invasion of your space but neither you or him seem to mind— and you hope connie didn't take the way your heart jumps in your chest and your suddenly uneven breathing as a sign that you did mind. no, it was the exact opposite of that if anything.

"are you enjoying the party?" his voice comes out a little too smooth for your liking. where was the slight cracks in his voice as he spoke or the lilts in his tone as he tried his best to be a flirt?

the way he looks at you doesn't help. his eyes are low lying, having trouble staying focused on only just yours. you notice them flit a little lower every now and then before popping back up to match your gaze.

you hoped you came off as unbothered— stable and unfazed by his sudden demeanor. if it wasn't obvious by now your slight attraction to connie was something that you couldn't seem to let go of ever since you had first met him.

you hated how goofy he was and how the lame jokes he'd crack would always make you laugh regardless of how stupid. you hated how somehow he'd always coerce you to do the handy work when it came to class projects because he was too lazy to get up off his own ass and help you. you hated how even through all these little silly quirks of his if he really wanted to with a few slip ups here and there he could make the hairs on your arms stand and have you stop breathing just from a slick look and slick sentence.

you hated all these things because they all made you feel gushy inside no matter how dumb it was. they made your body warm and gave you this comforting feeling that you couldn't get from anyone else.

so when connie repeats another "hm?" catching you off guard for the second time, that warm feeling returns because this time the pads of his fingers drum against your shoulder, a little to close to the junction near your neck.

"as long as ymir and sash keep me entertained, then yeah. this little 'party' isn't that bad." your quick with your response this time once he sets you back on track and you calm a bit.

"so ymir 'n sash are the life of the party for ya?" he pouts, and you scrunch your nose up when he leans in a little more, a mock pitiful expression on his face. "damn, 'n i'm supposed to be the birthday boy... that's crazy."

you can tell he's a little under the influence. despite it being his birthday he was actual one out of a few to keep their drinking at a light tonight. you couldn't say the same for armin who was currently passed out and curled up at the safety of mikasa's side on the large sofa, or for reiner who was last crying to ymir before she managed to 'shut the fuck up jockey' him as you walked pass.

you liked it like this though, liked to know that the interactions between you and connie weren't entirely the alcohol talking.

but it wasn't like it was ever really anything but him talking when he got more than comfortable with you.

light touches up the soft skin of your thighs, moving you around by placing his hands on your waist (where you must say they fit like a puzzle), or attacking you in tickles when he decided to crash at you and sasha's place and you wouldn't pass up the remote.

those were all connie, but it was nice to know that the person in front of you was mostly connie as well.

"you are... you just haven't been keeping me company as you should have." you lift up a hand right in front of his face and pretend to inspect your nails before dropping four fingers down to your palm and turning your nails to you once again.

connie let's out a low laugh at the gesture before using his own palm to cup the top of your hand. you expect him to push it down and let go but he only holds it in his grip with that same dumb smile plastered on his face as he doesn't fail to keep eye contact with you.

"ha-ha, so funny. you act like we didn't dance together," you recall the memory of connie hoisting you up from the couch and spinning you around until your backside was pressed against him, asking you to 'dance'. if anything that encounter is probably what encouraged the tingle between your legs and pushed you to follow connie into the kitchen. "sit together for like a good ass while, and play cards together— cheating together i might add."

you giggle, "did eren not realize that practically half the deck was under my ass and in your pockets?" connie reciprocates your giggle in his cheery tone and he raises the soda can to his lips again to empty it out inside his mouth.

"nah, but for real, what more company do you need?"

in the back of your head you had a solid idea of the kind of company you needed from connie, but you weren't even sure if your mind was quick enough to formulate it into a sentence that sounded appealing to the ears, enticing even.

a dramatic sigh leaves your lips and your hands come up to connie's head, one index plucking at the thin string below his chin and the other one holding the loud party hat until you were pulling it off and fiddling with it in your hand.

connie's hand automatically comes to rub at the short grey strands with a small frown at the absence of his hat. he stands up straight so he's peering down at you and his arm swings over your shoulder as he begins walking the two of you towards the exit to the kitchen abandoning his empty can of soda. "what?"

you slow down your pace so that he slows down and pull his arm from around you just as quickly as he placed it there massaging his knuckles in the process.

the eagerness to stay alone with him and not go back out where the chatters of all your friends would become tenfold is what makes you more bold, is what makes you back connie up towards the kitchen island until your practically leaning on him with doe eyes, fluttering your lashes and saying, "just wanna be alone with you for a minute..." you hesitate for a moment before beginning to speak again, "i gotta present for you, but we gotta go upstairs."

it's like your words alone manage to somewhat crack the demeanor he had going on. how his mouth slightly parts and how his body tenses up slightly tells you. you're thankful for the small adrenaline rush a measly walk to the archway gave you.

"shit, what's upstairs?" you relish in how he feeds into your words instead of stuttering under pressure and his hand moves to the small of your back pulling you even closer.

it's noticeable that he likes to feel your skin on his, and his hands are warm against the skin of your hip, practically singeing it with just his touch. it sends a hot feeling throughout your body and you indulge in him some more, fully enveloping your hand with his free one and giving a nice smile.

"if you come with me then it'll be me and you," and he lets you pull him along like a dog on a leash, sticking as close to its owner as possible as he's so close behind you that you can feel him up against your back as you begin to nonchalantly walk past your group of friends conversing in the living room.

for you it's easy to ignore their remarks and looks of 'finally'. after all, you knew they were coming. but connie couldn't, shooting silly faces to his audience as he lets you pull him along.

"they're finally fucking."

"go, birthday boy!"

"gettin' some birthday pussy!"

"_______, bite his dick off for me!"

the only phrase to elicit some sort of reaction from you is the mumbly one from sasha from whatever was in her mouth as she encouraged you to injure connie.

all the phrases seem to get one out of connie, from him pretending to fuck you from behind causing you to pinch the tan skin of his wrist to him making kissy faces at jean, eren, and even to ymir who further encouraged you to take a chomp out of his little friend.

you lead him through his bedroom door, immediately locking it because you know he'll forget and then turning to face him again.

when you turn back around connie's still looming over you, his hands lankily at his sides and it's as if he doesn't know what to do with them.

it makes you titter, and you take a step towards him pulling at his wrists place his hands back on your hips. "so what's my present?"

your hands come up to come his face and his skin is soft under your touch. he's warm and his breathing is unsteady as you lean forward to press your lips onto his.

he quickly returns the kiss, more fervently than you if anything. connie immediately groans as if the feeling of your lips on his was something he was craving.

connie pushes you against the door, a small thud eliciting from the way your back hits it and he lets go of your hips to cup your face and bring you deeper into the kiss.

the way he presses up so close against you makes you part your lips slightly giving him enough time to slip his tongue into your mouth until it's slotted alongside yours.

his knee parts your legs and bump against your crotch making you moan and let go of his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

you pull back to breathe for a brief moment— and connie's eyes are overcast with lust. he doesn't have that twinkle from earlier and his grip on your hips is tighter than it was a few seconds ago.

he breathes heavily and rests his forehead against yours then dropping his knee. "that wasn't all i get for my birthday, right?"

with another roll of your eyes you shake your head. "it'd be a little rude of me to leave you like this, yeah?"

you slide down the wall until your knees hit the carpet and sit back on your shins. your delicate hands slide down connie's chest until the tips of your fingers are brushing over the buckle of his belt.

"yeah," connie's eyes flutter shut and he places a hand on the door to once again steady himself. "'d be real fuckin' rude of you."

your hands make work of his belt, unclasping the loop, unzipping the zipper and unbuttoning his pants to begin shrugging down the denim.

you had barely even started doing anything yet connie's mouth was slightly parted in anticipation. it was amusing how even the slightest touch from you could elicit a reaction out of him.

you pride yourself in this, and you take your time letting your fingertips massage the length of connie's clothed cock beneath his boxers. his body stutters overtop of you for a quick second and you move your hands to the hem of his boxers to begin pulling them down.

he's pretty; a slightly flushed tip that complimented the tan color of his skin. he's clearly already hard and you swear when your hand wraps around him his dick twitches in your touch. "god," he mumbles.

his dick is heavy in your hand, and he's thick to the touch. with a few test pumps you prop yourself up on your knees once more and place a hand over his thigh. "c'mon," his tone is encouraging yet hurrying, needy.

you click your tongue at him before using it to kitten lip his tip, like you were just trying to get a taste. connie hisses above you and drops his hand down to the top of your head.

"c'mon, we can't take too long with everyone still down there."

you know he's only saying so because he wants to feel your mouth around him. he's only being needy because it's something he'd been craving over the course of a few months. you are something he had been craving and now that you were under him he wanted all of you, starting with what you were willing to give which happened to be your pretty throat.

nevertheless, he's the birthday boy and you want to help pleasure him, making him feel a euphoric feeling that you know he's longed for.

you stick your tongue out and slap his tip against the flat of your tongue, and connie lets out another short groan, his fingers scrunching your hair.

connie shudders from above you and you almost feel bad for teasing him. you let the warmth of your mouth consume him completely— well, as far as you can while your hand works at the remainder.

"yeah, yeah..." he hums and he opens his eyes again to look down at you.

your mouth around him felt heavenly, and the image of you sucking him off was even better; cheeks hollowed out and hand pumping his length.

you were so pretty.

connie brings the hand in your hand down to your cheek to feel himself through the skin, his tip pressed up against the inside of your cheek as he slightly rolls his hips forward to fuck in your mouth gently.

you pull off of him, pushing spit to the front of your mouth and letting your saliva drip onto his cock.

"fuck, you can't do that," he whines and rubs his tip against your lips until you open up again for him and his hand returns to your hair. "stick your tongue out."

you obey. using the leverage he has on your locks, he pushes deeper into your mouth, bobbing your head as he thrusts forward. small moans leave connie's lips. he's infatuated with the way your tongue slides against his underside as you try your best to relax your throat to let him in.

he loves it, loves how your mouth is so wet and sloppy around him, how it feels so good to be inside you— and he wants to feel every part of you, not stopping at your mouth.

saliva drips from the corner of your mouth and you try to suppress the gags that try to come up. you whimper from underneath connie, and he pulls out to give you a minute to breath.

it's funny how he's breathing harder then you his chest heaving. "that fuckin' mouth,"

you give a slight smile at the compliment, pleased to know you were pleasing him.

"i need it s'more."

what kind of person would you be if you didn't give the birthday boy what he wanted?

so you give him more, using connie's thighs to keep yourself steady, relaxing yourself and breathing through your nose as you let connie fuck your mouth.

he becomes erratic, the grip he has on your hair is slightly painful but you know he's too caught up in his lust, too caught up in the haven that was your throat.

he's so lost in the pleasure that he doesn't warn you when he's about to cum and you only know by the way his cum spills down your throat making you cough and pull off of him.

what you could only assume was a "sorry" comes from him as he calms down, pulling up his boxers and jeans but forgetting to buckle his belt. his hand reached out for you to grab it.

you take it and he pulls you up until you're almost at his height again, that same dumb smile on his face. "did you like your present?" you hum after you clear your throat.

"duh..." his thumb comes up to wipe at the saliva around your mouth before pushing the digit between your lips. you waste no time entertaining him, sucking your spit up and popping off of his thumb. "you thinkin' you could gimme something else though?"

you snort, "what happened to we couldn't take too long cause everyone's downstairs?"

"i'm still hard, it's my birthday, i really don't give a fuck who's downstairs." his words contradict his earlier statement but you brush it off, pulling him by the string of his jacket and pressing another peck to his lips.

"get in the bed birthday boy."

#connie springer x reader smut #connie x reader #connie springer x reader #connie springer #connie aot #connie x reader smut #connie springer smut #aot smut #aot x reader #connie smut #sfw

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years ago

Text

Dirty Dancing

Summary: Dean buys Sam a lap dance for as a surprise his eighteenth birthday, but when Sam arrives back at the motel room and finds Pamela and Dean waiting for him, there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. Dean’s booked a little more than just a lap dance, and now the boys are in for a night they’ll never forget.

Pairing: Dean x Sam x Pamela / Dean x Sam Rating: 18+ Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha!Pamela, Unpresented!Sam, Omega!Dean, Sam is 18, Happy Birthday Sam, Dean buys Sam a lap dance, Dean has a voyeur kink, Voyeurism, Lap Dance, Stripping, Prostitution, Dry Humping, P in V, Masturbation, P in A, Knotting, First Time Word Count: 5,160

Created for: @spnkinkbingo - Dean/Sam/Pamela | @spndeanbingo - Lap Dance | @samwinchesterbingo - Voyeurism | @spnabobingo - Lavender/Chamomile/Cannabis | @j3bingo - Stripper AU

“Dean? Sam calls as he opens the door to the motel room they’d checked into earlier that morning. He’s carrying the food Dean had sent him out to pick up: Sam had chosen a sandwich shop down the street that smelled incredible when he walked by. But it looks like he didn’t bring enough food back, because there’s someone else in the room with Dean.

“Uh, h-hi?” Sam stammers awkwardly as he closes the door behind him, sandwich bag dangling awkwardly from his hand.

The woman standing with Dean is very pretty: dark brown hair with messy waves, big flirty lashes and big shiny lips. Her top is too small, riding up over her waist and leaving a significant gap of skin on show above the tight jeans slung low on her hips. She’s obviously older than both himself and Dean but that certainly hasn’t diminished her beauty.

“Hiya, handsome,” she smiles at Sam and winks lasciviously. Sam’s jaw drops for a moment before he regains control of his own muscles.

“Happy birthday, Sammy!” Dean spreads his arms wide, as if shining a spotlight on their female guest, and now Sam is really confused.

“Huh?”

“Happy birthday, Sammy,” the woman purrs, stalking forwards towards Sam, a wide smile on her red-painted lips. Her heels click ominously on the linoleum as she corners him against the counter of the kitchenette in their room. Sam hurriedly puts down the bag of food he’s still carrying so he can defend himself.

“Dean, what’s happening?” he asks, slightly panicked, the pitch of his voice climbing higher than he cares to admit.

“Jeez, I thought you were the smart one, Mr. Going-to-college-this-fall,” Dean scoffs in annoyance. “How many times do we have to say ‘Happy Birthday’ for you to understand that this is your birthday present?”

“But, my birthday was last week,” Sam stammers weakly in a confused protest, staring pointedly over the shoulder of the woman who still had him pinned against the counter between her arms. Out of the corner of his eye though, Sam notices he has the perfect view of her cleavage down the top of her shirt.

“Yeah, and we were neck deep in ghoul guts in the middle of friggin’ nowhere, there weren’t many options on the ground for present shopping,” Dean explains with a shrug, picking up the beer that he’d put down on the dresser he’s leaning against. “So I’m a few days late with your present, sue me, but trust me, Pamela here will be worth the wait,” he grins, clearly checking out her ass, and Sam shivers at how skeevy his older brother is being right now. Dean was ridiculous sometimes.

“Dean’s right about that, baby,” Pamela uses a single finger to pull Sam’s head back around so he’s looking into her hazel eyes. “I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”

The finger on his face traces across Sam’s throat as he swallows nervously, then makes its way teasingly down his chest to tuck into the waistband of his jeans, and that’s when he finally jumps away from her touch.

“Calm down, sugar,” Pamela laughs. “I don’t bite, unless you’re kinky,” she winks.

Sam gapes, dumbfounded. Dean snorts into his beer. Rounding angrily on his brother, Sam indicates that he needs to speak to Dean privately with a jerk of his head, and his older brother follows him languidly to the other side of the room, shooting Pamela a grin as they pass her.

“What the hell, dude?” he demands in a harsh whisper as soon as they’re on the other side of the room, hopefully far enough away that Pamela can’t hear him.

“Am I the best big brother or what?” Dean flexes his eyebrows in delight, obviously expecting some profuse thank you from his little brother. Instead he gets a pretty meaty punch in the shoulder, knocking his beer back into his chest. “Hey! Watch it!”

“Dean, did you seriously hire a prostitute for my birthday?” Sam hisses through clenched teeth, flashing the woman in question an awkward smile as movement in the corner of his eye draws his attention towards her. She flutters her fingers at him in a vixen’s wave and Sam swallows thickly.

“She’s not a prostitute,” Dean rolls his eyes in exasperation. “She’s a stripper.”

Like the distinction makes this whole situation okay.

“Oh goody, we’re just gonna sit here together while she gets naked for us? How is that a birthday present?” Sam is incredulous, what the fuck was Dean thinking?

“No,” Dean draws out the word like it should be obvious that’s not the plan. “I got you a lapdance, and dude, let me tell ya-” he drops his voice lower and glances around as if he’s all of a sudden worried about being overheard, “-she’s good at ‘em.”

Sam’s expression drops into his patented little-brother-bitch-face. “You already got a lapdance from her, didn’t you?” His tone is obviously unimpressed, and Dean’s guilty shrug tells Sam all he needs to know.

“Dean,” he asks slowly, something occurring to him, “did she sell you my birthday present while you were getting your lapdance?” Dean looks even guiltier. “So you weren’t gonna get me anything for my birthday; you went and got yourself a lapdance while I went out to pick up some food, and you got conned by the stripper into buying more dances, didn’t you?”

“Do you have to ruin what could be a very nice brotherly bonding moment?” Dean huffs, taking a sip from his beer in frustration as Sam rolls his eyes in exasperation.

“Oh bo-oys,” Pamela calls in a sing-song tone from across the room, and Sam and Dean both turn from their argument immediately, gawping at what they see.

Pamela’s sitting on top of the dresser, legs swinging playfully - bare legs - she's removed her jeans and the tiny tank she’d been wearing, leaving her in nothing but her strappy black stilettos and hot pink, lacey lingerie. Teasingly, she places her hands on her knees, and Sam notices the long talon-like red nails digging into her pale flesh as she spreads her legs, showing off the tiny band of her thong pressed closely over her mound. The scent of her Alpha pheromones wafts towards them now that she has so much skin on show and Sam doesn’t struggle to identify the different components.

The aroma is strong, floral but not pretty, more earthy: lavender, Sam’s sure, and the softer touch of chamomile - both herbs he knows well from their work and their uses in protective charms. They’re aromas that feel safe. Then beneath those dominant top notes is something achingly sweeter, like the smoke of burning sage has started to envelope the room, but it’s more cloying, the scent sticking in his throat: weed. Sam scoffs to himself internally; he understands why Dean was so drawn to Pamela in the first place. Next to him, his omega brother is practically salivating, and Sam can scent the arousal rolling off him in waves.

And Sam’s not entirely unaffected by the scents permeating the room either. He can feel his blood beginning to channel south as a result of staring at the beautiful, nearly naked woman, and he shifts from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Pamela holds out her hand and beckons Sam forward, flicking on the CD player sitting next to her on the flimsy pine furniture she’s perching on.

A light drum beat overwrought with the clarinet and brass of a burlesque band begins to play loudly, and Sam finds himself following Pamela’s siren call, taking her outstretched hand and helping her to hop down from the dresser. She presses her front against his in a jolt, and Sam’s hands come up to catch her, his fingers easily wrapping themselves around her shoulders. Her attitude might be alpha but God, she sure is tiny, Sam thinks in the split second he’s holding her, until suddenly she’s pushed him backwards with a hard shove and his knees give out when they hit the edge of one of the crappy motel beds.

“You just sit there like a good boy,” Pamela pokes a red nail into Sam’s chest, and he finds himself nodding, not at all curious as to what she would do if he disobeyed. Typically Sam balks at anyone giving him orders, but he’s finding he doesn’t mind so much if it’s Pamela doing it; especially not when she’s straddling him on her knees so her cleavage is directly in front of his face.

Peripherally, Sam is aware that Dean has sat down on the next bed over and is presumably watching the show. Sam spares just a second to think about how weird that is before Pamela shoves him with both hands so he lands flat on his back, an ominous creek groaning from the mattress springs beneath them. She crawls slowly up his body in time to the music, her hips dipping on alternate beats so the front of her panties skim over Sam’s own crumpled clothing.

When they’re face to face, Pamela grinds back, finding Sam’s now full-fledged erection easily, like it’s a homing beacon, and begins twisting herself teasingly over the bulge in the denim between his legs.

“Fuck,” Sam swears under his breath, forcing his eyes to focus so he can watch every twitch, every roll, every twist that Pamela is performing on top of his prone body. Dean hadn’t lied, Pamela knows what the fuck she’s doing. He’s nothing more than a stage for her to work on. I’ve even got a pole she can use, Sam thinks wryly to himself, unable to deny how much this is turning him on.

“I heard that, Sam,” Pamela whispers breathlessly in his ear, and Sam jumps in surprise, his hips bucking beneath her as she grinds down on top of him again, pulling a groan of appreciation from his chest. “You’re right, you do have quite the pole down here,” she grins up at him lecherously.

“H-how… did you?” Sam pants, confused and mildly terrified that this woman apparently just read his thoughts.

“Dean forgot to mention I’m a psychic, too, didn’t he,” she laughs, eyes flicking to the side where Dean is lounging back against the pillows on the second bed, beer held loosely and forgotten in his fist as he drinks in the show instead.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam turns a glaring eye on his older brother, who only shrugs, not even bothering to look apologetic.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Pamela turns Sam’s head back to look at her, smiling broadly. “I can’t read your mind all the time, it’s just, that thought was particularly loud,” she giggles, ghosting her lips over Sam’s. “And so was that thought,” she whispers ruefully, before kissing him. Sam had indeed just been thinking about how soft and kissable her lips looked, and how badly he wanted to bite them. Pamela’s doing a very good job of making his thoughts come to life.

This must be why she’s so fucking good at her job. No wonder she’d conned Dean into buying more dances, she’d known exactly which buttons to press to make him putty in her oh so soft hands. A disgruntled noise from somewhere in the distance alerts Sam to Dean’s presence again, and he breaks off the kiss with Pamela with a final bite to her lower lip and looks around, face flushed and breath heaving.

“You sure thought a lot about Dean just then for someone who’s kissin’ me,” Pamela bends and whispers in Sam’s ear, quietly enough that he knows Dean hasn’t heard her.

Sam’s grip on her shoulders flexes instinctively. It’s the truth, he and Dean have spent their whole lives being so attuned to one another’s presence that if their brother was anywhere nearby it was almost like a constant background noise in their minds; just an endless loop of Dean. Sam. Dean. Sam. Dean. Sam. They couldn’t help it anymore, it was a reflex. It was part of them.

“How come he gets a kiss and I didn’t?” Dean whines petulantly, making Pamela and Sam laugh against one another.

“Because it’s his birthday,” Pamela purrs, lips teasing over Sam’s throat while her eyes are fixed on his older brother. “And because you bought your baby brother way more than a lap dance, Dean,” she giggles, her eyes twinkling.

“He what?” Sam startles beneath the stripper, and Dean chokes on his beer.

“S-sorry,” he coughs, “I what?”

“You kept sayin’ how much of a shame it was that poor little Sammy was going off to college a virgin,” Pamela pouts sympathetically, and Sam shoots a glare at his older brother. She shimmies her way down Sam’s body again, still in time to the music, pulling the snaps of his shirt open one by one as she goes. “And then you handed over all that money you won at pool, well that was worth far more than a lapdance, honey.”

Sam’s breath goes ragged as Pamela flicks open the edges of his shirt, exposing his bare chest. His heart feels like it might break his rib cage with how hard it’s hammering against the bones. Panicking, he flicks his eyes over to Dean, who’s watching the proceedings with a slack jaw and wide, glazed eyes. When the brothers lock eyes, they both swallow visibly.

“If you promise to be a good boy, you can join in too,” Pamela grins towards Dean, holding out a hand in invitation. Sam’s eyes dart between the stripper and his brother, curious as to how this will play out. His brother’s always had a weakness for alpha women, and Sam can see just how much she’s affected him already evidenced in the tight bulge of his jeans. But to his surprise, Dean shakes his head slowly, blinking rapidly like he’s waking himself up from a dream before answering.

“I-I’m good here,” Dean’s voice quakes, far more breathless than Sam’s ever heard it, and with a jolt he realises that this must be how Dean sounds when he’s turned on: delicate, meek, enraptured. He likes the sound.

“Suit yourself,” Pamela shrugs with a smirk on her face before turning back to Sam. “Now, what does the birthday boy want for his present?”

Dean’s eyes glaze over and his field of vision goes hazy as he watches Sam and Pamela on the next bed. The music she’s put on has a seedy, undeniably sexy beat, and the way her hips are rolling over Sam’s is hypnotising. Her alpha pheromones are intoxicating, just like they had been back at the club he’d picked her up from, but here, in this tiny room with just the three of them, the scent is even more overwhelming. And mixed with the warm, undefined undertones of Sam’s markers, Dean was in heaven.

Part of him desperately wants to join in, but he won’t; not in the way Pamela had offered at least, not at first. This is for Sam, Sammy’s first time as a real man, a boy deserves keeping that for himself. Although Sam won’t be keeping it totally to himself; Dean still fully intends to stay on this bed. To watch out for him. Pamela was a strange alpha after all, and a psychic one at that, he couldn’t leave Sam alone, just in case there was any danger.

Just in case.

“Now, what does the birthday boy want for his present?” Pamela purrs, eyes fixed back on Sam, and Dean sees Sam blush from his cheeks all the way down his chest. It turns his skin the same kissable pink as his lips and Dean feels himself flush at the thought. He’s been having feelings like that about Sam for longer than he’d like to admit, particularly considering his baby brother only turned eighteen last week.

Sam hasn’t even presented yet, and it’s rare these days to present as anything other than a beta, like their Dad is. Their mom had been, and their grandparents so far as Dean knew. He’s the odd one out of their messed up little family unit. Chances are Sam would present as a beta too and then it wouldn’t matter how kissable Dean thinks his lips are, because Dean needs an Alpha. And the alpha in the room is currently grinding on top of his little brother, pulling sickeningly sweet moans from between his soft lips.

Dean feels rather than hears the groan bubble up within his chest and drops a hand to his crotch, where his dick has been throbbing, untouched in its confines, for longer than he can handle. His fingers knead over the bulge and ease some of his tension as he watches on, but as he shifts on the bed to find a more comfortable position, and eases his zipper down, he becomes aware of a different problem: he’s getting wet.

Jesus fucking Chris now is not the time to go into heat.

“I think your brother is enjoying the show,” Pamela croons in Sam’s ear, but it’s loud enough that Dean hears her too. The light teasing in her tone has him blushing in embarrassment, but also gets him leaking even more. She must have heard his panicked thoughts of a moment before.

Sam’s head flops to the side, his dishevelled hair splayed out around his head like a crown of sandy curls, his eyes bright with excitement and dark with lust. His mouth falls open in a shocked little sigh as Pamela’s hands drag down his bare chest and dig into the waist of his jeans, pulling open the button and peeling him out of his remaining clothing. Sam’s chest is heaving with deep breaths, showing off the tone of his chest and his stomach muscles. Dean finds himself imagining he can smell the sweat that’s beading on his throat and dripping temptingly down his clavicle.

“Why don’t you take care of that little problem you’ve got there, Dean?” Pamela suggests in a raspy voice, once again dragging her body up over Sam’s. “We don’t mind, do we Sammy?” she nuzzles at his throat and kisses down the straining tendons pressing tightly against his skin, licking away the sweat Dean had been eyeing up so greedily a moment before. He groans in equal measures of jealousy and lust.

“Y-yeah,” Sam pants, and Dean’s eyes snap to his little brother’s instantly, locking his gaze with his own. “S’fine, Dean. Can scent you from all the way over here, know you want to.”

Like it had always been Sam’s permission he was waiting for, Dean doesn’t waste another second before he’s lifting his hips and shoving his jeans and boxers down out of the way, groaning when the pressure over his cock is finally released, and it springs up to smack dully against his stomach.

“Ooh, what a pretty little omega,” Pamela coos, her cheek pressed to Sam’s as they both stare at him from across the thin aisle of grey carpet separating their two beds. Dean’s desperation falters under their gaze and he squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment before finally letting a hand drop to his cock and gripping it firmly. “Don’t let all that slick go to waste, boy,” Pamela laughs huskily, and Dean groans, dipping his fingers lower between his legs to gather up some of his wetness and dragging it back up to his cock to ease the slide of his hand.

“Think you’ll start slicking up one day?” Pamela’s question is directed at Sam now, as she kisses her way down his stomach towards his dick. “Or do you think this here will bulk up and pop a knot?” Her hand wraps around the base of his cock and twists, stroking him teasingly. Dean remembers how soft her hands are, he bets they feel amazing jerking Sam off like that.

“Although,” Pamela muses, “you’re already pretty big, aren’t ya Sammy? What do you think, Dean?”

“Uh,” Dean clears his throat, his hand faltering in its strokes, “y-yeah.” He swallows painfully.

“Take a proper look, Dean,” Pamela straightens up, Sam’s cock in her hand, stroking it gently so it’s standing straight up from his hips. Sam’s groans and throws his head back when she twists her fingers around the tip and squeezes.

“Fuck,” Sam shudders, his hips jerking beneath her touch.

“Are ya– ya just gonna tease him the whole time?” Dean manages to grunt, his own hand still preoccupied with his dick while his eyes are glued to his baby brother’s. “Thought you promised him a big night?”

“You’re pretty mouthy for an omega,” Pamela smirks.

“Yeah, he’s a pain in the ass,” Sam grunts with a laugh. “But uh, y-you are gonna do more than tease me, right?” he asks nervously, clearly getting more and more desperate by the second.

“Oh, you want more?” Pamela asks sweetly, fluttering her lashes down at Sam. “You want me to fuck you baby?”

“Oh, God yeah,” Sam groans, hips twisting beneath her as she straddles his waist. “Fuck, please,” he’s panting heavily, fists balled into the comforter beneath him.

“Hold yourself up for me, baby.” Pamela reaches for one of Sam’s hands and wraps it around his cock, holding himself erect, before pushing her own hand between her legs and pulling the pink lace to one side, revealing her glistening wet folds. She bends her hips and swirls herself over the head of Sam’s cock, making him toss his head back in pleasure.

“You ever felt a pussy before?” Pamela asks curiously, still teasing Sam. Dean reaches between his legs and lets his fingers begin to play with his own entrance. Sam shakes his head violently, clearly trying to hold himself back from sheathing himself inside of the one currently poised on top of him. “Well, happy birthday, Sammy,” she grins widely, and finally sinks her hips down over his cock, enveloping him in the warmth of her body.

“Oh my God,” Sam nearly shouts, hips flexing instinctively and fucking himself up into Pamela. His hands reach out to grab her hips, fingers digging firmly into the flesh and almost certainly bruising it. He uses her body like a rag doll, slamming her down against him over and over, and Pamela is moaning like it’s the first time she’s ever been fucked, rather than Sam’s first time. It’s like as soon as he was inside her some instinct took over and erased the nerves that had clearly been there not long before. Dean finds himself very much wishing that it was him Sam was fucking like that, and not Pamela.

“Holy shit,” Dean groans, feeling himself getting too close to the edge just watching them. He lets go of his cock entirely, spreading his legs more so he can get a finger inside himself. He sighs in relief when he finally has something inside, his body has been craving it this whole time.

“Sam, oh God that feels amazing,” Pamela moans, fucking herself back into Sam’s thrusts, her tits bouncing enticingly in her lacy bra. She looks divine, losing herself in the rapture of Sam’s lust. “Fuck, you’re a natural, Sammy,” she laughs breathlessly, and it melts into another moan that Sam echoes. Dean has to agree, Sam looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. There’s a look of hungry determination in the lines of his face, his eyes pulled shut against the waves of overwhelming pleasure he must be feeling.

In a sudden burst of motion, Sam and Pamela roll over, Sam growling roughly as he paws at her breasts and tears the cups of her bra loose, letting her perky breasts spring free. They’re the perfect size to fit in the palms of his hands and he uses that to his advantage, holding her down while he fucks into her ruthlessly.

“Fucking… fuck,” he pants, his eyes screwing up with effort, groaning as Pamela wraps her legs around his waist and arches into his thrusts. “Wh– what’s happening? Fuck!” Sam doubles over Pamela’s body, his head burying itself in the crook of her neck.

Dean lets out a bark of laughter in shock.

“C’mon Sammy, don’t tell me you’ve never busted a nut before! Fucking hell, you’re more of a virgin than I thought.”

“Shut up!” Sam growls, turning a glare towards his older brother, and Dean recoils, though his cock jumps against his stomach in arousal. Sam’s eyes are nearly slits, and that growl was an actual growl. Something isn’t right.

“Sam,” Pamela groans, petting his hair gently while he continues to fuck her hard into the mattress. “Sam, honey, pull out.”

“No,” Sam answers in a whining growl, rutting against Pamela sharply.

“Sammy, a woman tells you to pull out, you pull out,” Dean chides. “I don’t care how good their pussy feels.”

“No!” Sam growls again, but Pamela shushes him, trying to calm his rutting.

“Sam, baby, ya gotta pull out. I can’t give you what you need right now, you won’t fit,” Pamela tries to reason with him, but her words don’t make any sense to Dean, and apparently not to Sam either because he asks:

“What are you talking about?” in a breathless whimper. It almost sounds like he’s in pain.

“You’re trying to knot me, Sam, but it’s not gonna fit. I’m an alpha, too, remember? My knot won’t let yours in.”

“W-what?” Sam’s fucking finally comes to a standstill, and he props himself up on his elbows, looking down at the woman beneath him.

“You’re presenting,” Dean answers, suddenly understanding what’s happening. “Fuck, Sammy, you’re an alpha?” His own dick twitches again at the thought.

“I… I–” Sam looks back to Pamela for answers, and she nods kindly.

“It’s okay baby, it’s good. But I’m not gonna get you where you need to go right now, you need to pop that knot before you hurt yourself,” Pamela explains, sneaking a hand between their bodies and pulling Sam’s cock out from between her legs. Dean can see the bulge beginning to form at its root and his mouth waters.

“Sammy.” He doesn’t mean to say it, but he has now, and his little brother is looking at him with wide, scared eyes.

“Dean…”

Dean reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it up over his head, then pushes his jeans the rest of the way down his legs. When he’s completely naked, he turns over to his hands and knees, presenting his hole to his baby brother. Then he takes a deep breath and waits, his heart climbing higher and higher in his throat the longer the silence in the room stretches on.

“Dean,” Sam breathes again, and his voice is closer now, though Dean hadn’t heard him get up off the other bed.

“Take it, Sammy,” Dean tells him, pitching his knees wider to spread himself out more in Sam’s view. He feels himself leaking down his thigh, fuck, he hasn’t been this wet since he fucking presented four years ago. “Take what ya need, Sam, c’mon.”

A beat. Silence. And then–

“Fucking mine,” Sam growls, and he launches himself at Dean, climbing onto the bed on his knees and rutting his cock between the globes of his brother’s ass until the tip catches against his rim and finally– finally –pushes in. “Mine,” Sam groans again as he sinks into Dean’s body, folding himself over his back and nosing against Dean’s neck.

There’s new scents making themselves known in the room now, but Dean can’t pull apart the different components of them. All he can smell is Sam and home and right. And that’s all he needs.

“Yours, Sammy,” Dean moans wantonly as Sam’s cock skates clumsily over his prostate. “All yours, just take it.”

“You… fucking… take it,” Sam snaps; his hips hammering into Dean’s ass, the sounds of flesh clapping together easily drowning out the fading music from Pamela’s CD player in the far corner. Dean wants to laugh at how fucking bratty Sam’s being but it comes out as a groan as Sam hits his prostate once again.

“Fuck yes! Yes, Sam, there. Just there,” he begs, arching his back to force Sam’s cock over the spot he needs it, feels his dick throbbing between his legs as his balls draw up tight against his body. “Shit, Sammy, make me cum. C’mon baby, so close… fucking hell…”

“Mm – fuck – ‘mega, feel so good,” Sam whines, his rhythm faltering as his brother clenches around him, and Dean can feel Sam’s knot pushing at his rim, fighting his body to let him in.

“Harder, Alpha. Fuckin’ knot me baby brother, please,” Dean moans, shifting his hips back into Sam as hard as he can. The knot begins to breach him, but not hard enough to lodge into his body, which pushes Sam back out instinctively recoiling against the too-big intrusion.

“Say it again,” Sam grunts. “Beg- beg me for it ‘mega. Beg me for my knot.”

“Give me your knot Alpha, c’mon. Need it, need you t’knot me, nee– fuck, Alpha, yes!” Dean whimpers, his cock twitching between his legs and spurting in jerks onto the comforter beneath him. “Fuck, Sam,” he pants, hips jerking back on his brother’s knot as he releases inside him, groaning heavily into Dean’s neck, shaking against his back in stunned silence with the strength of his climax.

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” Sam groans, rolling his hips and pulling another aftershock from Dean’s spent body.

“Calm down, Sammy,” Dean winces, too sensitive to keep going right now. “Can we uh, lay down or summin’? My knees are killin’ me.”

“Here, you two.” Pamela’s voice shocks both boys out of their reverie. To be honest Dean had forgotten she was even still here. She’s rearranging the pillows at the head of the bed and pulling up the blanket so they don’t have to lay on the comforter Dean had gotten cum all over.

“You’re gonna be tied for a while, since it’s his first. Get comfy and I’ll get you some water, okay?”

Dean feels Sam nod blearily against his back, and they carefully shuffle up the mattress and lay down on their sides, Sam’s arms wrapping around Dean like a teddy bear. Pamela produces a bottle of water from somewhere and hands it to Dean, who takes a few sips and passes it behind him to Sam, who does the same.

“You boys gonna be alright?” Pamela asks, shouldering her duffle bag, now carrying her CD player and whatever other accessories she’d brought with her. She’s wearing her jeans and cropped tank top again, no longer displaying her lacy lingerie.

“Uh, yeah, we’ll be alright,” Dean murmurs, and Sam hums in agreement. “I’ll take care’a him.”

“I have no doubt about that,” she smiles down at them sweetly, then leans down to give Sam a kiss on top of his head. “Well, I did promise you a night you’ll never forget, didn’t I baby?”

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