#Jackson Rippner fan fic

[fkmarrycill]

Touch Me, Tease Me Collection, Part 1

911 words

Smutty vibes 🔞

Yes, I named this after a 90s R&B song. 🤭🤭🤭 It's Jackson Rippner, getting a little spicy TLC from his dominatrix girlfriend. I plan to write more of them–I see it as a collection of one shots of them, a loving couple with unusual careers. I love the idea of our man Jackson being vulnerable in this way.

Thanks for reading! ❤️

At last, I felt the tension begin to leave his body, as my deep kiss made his self-control slowly melt away. My full lips, pressed against his full ones, nuzzling their softness, teasing before they gave way to my tongue cleaving his mouth open. He gasped as I grasped his face strongly. I explored the warm cavern of his mouth, dueled his tongue for supremacy and, triumphant, sucked gently on the acquiescing muscle. The groan that began deep in his throat wanted to escape and fill the room, but I continued to silence him, with one soul-scorching kiss after another.

I straddled him while he reclined on the curved sex chaise that was covered in red PVC, and I could feel him hardening rapidly underneath me. I chuckled into his mouth while I continued to kiss him. He was right where I wanted him: arms over his head, wrists in tied in soft rope, legs similarly bound. He was excited, eager to have his latest fantasy come to life. All I knew was that I'd have a wicked good time with him, same as always.

I knew when I first saw him that he was trouble, but not in the way he usually inflicted chaos on the world. Yes, he was a merciless assassin, but to me, he was trouble in the sense of his energy: powerful, mysterious, barely contained. Primal, like a tiger hunting its prey and biding its time.

I'd met him at a friend's party. He'd tried to woo me with a sweet, charming veneer at first, but he soon revealed his true self after I mentioned I'd heard of his work. I told him I was glad he'd stopped pretending with me, that someone with my unique skill set would never fall for his meet-cute gambit, because his presence alone spoke volumes about who he really was.

He wanted to be a client, but I never mixed business with pleasure. I told him that. Exactly like that. And then I whispered in his ear what I had in mind for us. The lust that crawled across his face, narrowing his eyes and turning his lips up into a grin, let me know he didn't mind one bit.

What I didn't tell him was that he made me a little uneasy when we first met, with those intense blue eyes set deep into the contours of his preternaturally beautiful face–his beauty being much more disarming than his resume to me. But now, we were inseparable: lovers living together, doing the things that all lovers do, but also terrorizing the world with our unique sets of skills.

He came home with a toy, one that I could use to drag him to that line between extreme pleasure and temporary insanity that he loved so well. It was a basic prop that could be obtained from any mildly titillating sex shop, but he'd never expressed interest in one before. He was always in control for his job, but lucky for both of us, he liked to play much, much harder than he worked, and he was open to trying anything once. I took today's request as a deeper level of trust that had developed between us, boyfriend and girlfriend, sub and mistress. I looked forward to the vulnerability he would share, only with me.

"Ready to start the scene?" I said, breaking the kiss.

"Yes,” he intoned.

“Same rules as usual, same safe word.”

“Make it good, Mistress," he said, looking up at me with his cold, seductive eyes and his usual smirk. His mouth was closed, but his flared nostrils and chest rising and falling let me know that he would've been gasping for breath if his pride wasn't so strong.

He was my lovely brat, easily the most beautiful man I'd ever laid my eyes on. I let him get away with much more talk than my clients when we were in a scene; partly because of our bond, but also because of that cold-blooded reputation. I liked to get as close to that line of danger and excitement as possible for myself, just as much as my clients and my lovers did, which is why my schedule was filled with the scariest of killers and thugs. But I always knew not to push so far that they wanted to break character–and break my bones.

I gave him one last kiss. We both smiled at each other, and while our eyes locked in a gaze of mutual admiration, my right hand grasped the gag on the side table.

Soon, everything was in place. I stifled a moan as I took a look at him: his mouth parted and his full lips comfortably cradling the red silicone ball, while the leather straps hugged his face and drew even more attention to his prominent cheekbones. The pale, naked skin of his body flushed as he waited for me to do my worst.

His wide, cyan eyes were starting to glaze over, occasionally hidden by the fan of his eyelashes every time he blinked. His dark hair had been perfectly styled, but now shaggy bangs almost covered those eyes, thanks to his arching and squirming. He'd come undone a bit already, yes, but he and I both knew it was only the beginning. I'd savor every scandalous thing I'd do along the way to give him release with an edge.