#Seductively pulling on the fabric alternately left and right

[soulsdontbreaktheybeeend]

[yutahoes]

Otou-Chan

Yuta Nakamoto x Reader (Y/N) Smut

(Chapter Fourteen)

Summary: 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬.

Warning:  Fluff (?), Sexual Thoughts, Shower Sex

Word Count: 1.9k

Masterlist

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

14. Bungeoppang

Yuta jolted awake when he felt the side of the bed cold. Did she leave already? Is this like Paris all over again? But she was so clingy last night that she even forced him to sleep next to her on the same bed. Now, she’s already gone? That girl, really. But when he went outside, he could hear her In the kitchen. “Hey.” He greeted, seating by the counter to watch her. She smiled at him while transferring the rice on the plate.

The girl placed a plate of rice and omelet on the counter, in front of him. “Sorry. I figured I should at least cook breakfast.” She claimed then handed him a spoon. “It isn’t that good but I think it’s pretty decent.” He nodded then took a bite of the food. Omurice? “That’s the only Japanese recipe I remembered.”

He laughed at that thought. “And why are you remembering Japanese recipes now?”

“To cook for you.” She answered, leaning by the counter. “I thought you might miss home-cooked Japanese food.” Why does she keep on surprising him? “I have to go to work. Can I borrow your clothes?” he nodded, even offering to drive her to work but she declined.

Yuta was cleaning up the plates when she went outside his room in his shirt and jacket. “Isn’t it hot?” he asked, mentioning the jacket she put on. When she removed the jacket, he realized why she needed that. Now, the thought that her naked breasts is touching the fabric he once wore is not leaving his mind. How hot is that? “I can just drive you to work.” But she shook her head, saying that she doesn’t really want to bother him. “Is this the last time I’m seeing you again?”

(Y/N) giggled at that, shaking her head. “Well, Lucas is still here in Korea so I can’t stay at Jungwoo’s. Can I stay here tonight?” Yuta nodded. “I’ll just cook dinner tonight. What do you want?” He stepped closer, pulling her by the waist. “I think I know,” she mumbled that made him grin. “Then we’ll have sushi.” A confused look was all Yuta could muster. Sushi? Is she that oblivious?

--

But the possibility of her serving him sushi naked is high. He remembered reading a scene like that from the manga that their publishing house created. And it made him giddy the whole day that Doyoung is eyeing him weirdly. He honestly wished that time can get faster and he wouldn’t get stuck in these meetings. To his annoyance, Doyoung announced that he had another meeting since he didn’t attend yesterday.

He even drove fast just to get home earlier but the house was too quiet, no signs of her. Where is she? All this excitement for nothing? Is she even coming over? Or his hunches were right once again? He won’t see her again. Instead of pondering over it and obsessing over her, he decided to finish the work he left in the office.

But he is really worried about her. He should have insisted to buy her a phone. Or maybe, he should plant a microchip to track her always. No, he thought, that’s another level of obsession. He shouldn’t be like that. The doorbell disturbed his thoughts and he quickly stood up to open the door. The girl was standing there, smiling timidly and he opened the door widely for her. “You’re here. Have you eaten already?”

But the girl stopped in her tracks, slowly staring at him. “Oh yeah. I promised sushi. Sorry.” But Yuta shook his head. “I’ll cook something for you. Wait up.” And she quickly disappeared to the kitchen.

Yuta followed close by, watching her. Something is not right. “Are you okay?” he asked, sitting by the counter stool. “We can just order take-out.”

“Can we?” she asked, turning to him and Yuta nodded. “I’m really sorry.”

“What do you feel like eating?”

“Bungeoppang.” She answered quickly then stared at him when she realized what she said. “Nevermind. Let’s just order something nearby.”

But Yuta was typing things from his phone already. “Can you wait for me?” he asked that made her blink in surprise. Wait for what? He took the keys for his car and a jacket before going out of the house. Where is he going this late?

Hours dragged by and (Y/N) was already sleepy when Yuta came in the door with a plastic bag at hand. “I hope they’re still hot.” He claimed while pushing a bag full of fish-shaped buns to her.

“Where did you get this? This late?”

Yuta sat beside her on the couch. “Myeongdong.” She was surprised. Did he travel that far just to get this? “The ahjussi said that he made that extra special.” When she asked why they’re still open, he confessed that they’re not. “I have to tell him that my wife is pregnant and is craving for buns.” He said with a grin that made her chuckle. All this hassle just because she wants some bungeoppang. Yuta is really something else.

He was working on his laptop while she’s eating the red bean filled buns. Why does this food really comfort her? And why did Yuta have to bother a person just for this? “Yuta…” she called and he hummed without taking his eyes away from the laptop. “Something happened at work today.” She heard the laptop close but she focused on her buns. “My work got rejected today.” The guy tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to disappoint them but Johnny said it’s still lacking. I also don’t want to waste Taeyong’s money in sponsoring me.” She admitted. “I don’t think I’m cut off for this job.”

“That’s a bummer. You’ve been doing so well.” Yuta claimed. “I remembered reading the one you made on the plane and that is pretty good. You have real talent.” He said sincerely that made her smile. Why is he so comforting? “It might not be your time yet but I know you’ll be a really great manga artist someday.” She actually never thought of being a great manga artist and she only dreamed of publishing her own manga. Who would have thought that Yuta will be the one to make her realize this impossible dream? “If you need help with anything, just tell me. I can drive just to get you those steamed buns.”

(Y/N) giggled at that. Now, her mood is lifted. Yuta’s smile is really infectious. “Sankkyu…” She said cutely in a Japanese way that made him laugh. “Otou-chan.”

--

When (Y/N) woke up that morning, Yuta was still snuggling in bed like normal times. She remembered Yuta’s smile when she begged him to sleep next to her. She remembered him fully clothed last night but now, his shirt was already discarded. Well, the weather is kind of hot. And Yuta is kinda hot. The image of a God is still etched on Yuta. It will be a blessing to have kids with the same look as him.

The guy’s eyes opened and he smiled when he saw her watching him. “Good morning.” he greeted and she smiled. “You didn’t leave the bed, that’s a good sign.” She giggled then sat up that made him pout.

“Yuta,” she called. “Do you want to shower together?”

The guy didn’t need to be asked twice as he stood up almost immediately, following her to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth first and he marveled at how good she looked in the morning. How seductive she looked with white suds surrounding her mouth. He wanted to replace those with something white as well and wanted to replace that toothbrush in her mouth with the muscle hardening on his body now.

When she bent down to spit out the toothpaste in her mouth, her ass lightly grazed on his hardening cock that made him moan. Showering is really out of the question now. She pulled him inside the shower stall, removing his pants then her clothes. "Can I fuck you?" But she giggled. “So we are just going to shower?” he asked when she turned around that her back is facing him.

The girl giggled, “I did ask you to shower. Do you have something else in mind?” she turned on the shower that water started cascading down their bodies. Yuta smirked, the audacity of this girl to tease him. “Then let me clean you up.” He claimed as he held her closer, wrapping his hands on her waist. His hands traveled upward to her breasts, rubbing the hardened nipples using his thumb as she moaned at the sensation.

Yuta’s hands were warm compared to the cold water from the showerhead. And can she miss his hardness poking her from the back? “Do we have time to do this, Yuta?” she asked, smiling when his right hand moved down to her core. He smirked, “Time to do what? I’m just going to clean you.” He claimed, inserting his fingers inside her core. This fucker, really.

His left hand alternated in rubbing her breasts while his right hand curled inside her, earning moans from her. “You’re so wet for someone who doesn’t want to do this.” He whispered, bending her forward that her hands automatically held the tiles from the bathroom in an attempt to hold into something. His fingers were quickly replaced with his hardening cock.

(Y/N) had to bit her lip to prevent her from moaning too much. She can’t believe that it is Yuta, once again, who was giving her the sex she wanted. He thrust so hard that if not for her arms, she might hit her head on the bathroom wall. Why is Yuta this wild in the morning? Is this the sex she missed when she left that morning in Paris? She should have stayed. She came in that position, then another one in Yuta’s embrace. “Let’s not do this again.” She claimed while breathing hard, recovering from her high. The guy only had to raise an eyebrow at him. “Shower sex looks so hot in manga or in porn yet it is so slippery.”

He only laughed at that. “Well, we have a tub.” He said gesturing at the tub located next to the shower stall. “Next time.” She claimed then reached for his body wash, slathering it on her body. Yuta grinned, this is just like being married to her. If she lives here with him, will this be an everyday scenario?

Instead of eating at home, they decided to just grab breakfast on the way to work since they’re both late for work. Maybe they should refrain from having sex in the morning, they’ll have trouble at work if this continues on. “Are you coming over tonight?” he asked and she shook her head, explaining that since she needed to do her illustrations from scratch she needed to stay late. “Can you promise me that you’ll eat lunch and dinner properly?” he asked and she smiled. “No, I’ll just order food for you. What do you want?”

She giggled at that. “You are such a dad, Yuta.” She teased. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” He shook his head when she went out of the car. How can he not worry about her? When she’s this stubborn? Before he could start his car, he caught glimpse of Jaehyun’s car parking. Maybe there is a way to really take care of her.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

Chapter 13 / Chapter 15

A quick thank you to @puzziw​ for telling me about the proper tagging and for uplifting my confidence to write. Also, thank you @markresonates​ for telling me about the word count. Also to @scentedbabybreath​ for liking the story, I hope I haven’t disappointed you yet. 

Happy Holidays to everyone! 🎄

[saxxxology]

Keep it Cool (oneshot)

The air conditioning in the bunker goes out, and Sam’s choice of cool clothing is nothing but a distraction to you. 

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Native American!Reader WARNINGS: smut and all the deliciousness that comes with it NOTE: This fic was originally co-written with @kittenofdoomage​. It is also 18+ only. Do not save or repost my work without my consent.

become a patron for just $3

The air conditioning in the bunker sucked. Being underground, the place usually stayed colder, enough that in the winter you had to get the heater working, but for some reason, the summer heat had infected every single room. All you could do was put on deodorant, get the fans going, and stock up on ice water.

Dean was good at staying cool, proudly displaying his glorious bowlegs as he ambled around in just a pair of boxers and a tee shirt. Sam, on the other hand, had a much more interesting alternative to staying cool.

Walking around shirtless in just a ratty pair of gray sweatpants was his way of keeping the heat off, which did absolutely nothing to help your own temperature regulation. 

You were in the kitchen, trying to fix yet another a fan you’d found in the basement and wearing nothing but a baggy tee shirt and cotton panties when Sam strolled in, those damn sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He was sweating like a pig, and you watched as he grabbed a bottle of ice water from the fridge and tilted his head back to down almost half of it in four long, deep gulps. He poured the rest over the back of his neck and shoulders, not caring as it splattered to the concrete floor.

“How in the hell can you exercise in this?” You asked, watching as the wind from the fan already on the table blew his hair back. “It’s almost ninety in here, Sam.”

“Gotta keep in shape,” he replied simply, “routine is everything.”

“Routine can go fuck itself when it’s this hot,” you returned. “You could get heatstroke.”

He shrugged and pulled the waistband of his sweats up, which did nothing as they simply sagged back down around the V in his hips. “I know my limits,” he said. “What are you up to?”

“Trying to fix this fan,” you muttered irritably, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his back flexed as he pulled a hairband from around his wrist and swept his long, coppery locks into a knot on top of his head. “Got all the dust out of it, now I just have to get it working.”

“Need help?” He ran a palm over the four-day stubble on his jaw. “I got time on my hands.”

You swallowed thickly and shook your head. The last thing you needed was Sam distracting you. “No thanks… it won’t take long.”

Sam offered a kind smile that was quickly betrayed by the twinkle in his eye. “‘Kay then. Call me if you need anything.”

An hour later and you still hadn’t got the damn thing to work. Sam wandered back into the kitchen as you—still not wearing any pants—called it names. He smirked at your indignation with the technology and leaned on the table once again, those powerful biceps now only a foot away from your face.

“You sure you don’t need help?”

The fan had you in a mood already, and Sam’s playful little smirk just rubbed you the wrong way. “Fuck you,” you mumbled, glaring at the failed project on the table.

Sam rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight, just enough that you could see the thick length of his dick hidden beneath the thin, gray fabric of his sweats. He was all sweaty and shiny and perfect; you could smell the musk seeping from every pore. 

“Well, I said I’d help,” he replied and your back went straight. “You look like you could relax a little.”

It seemed like all of the oxygen went out of the room as you turned to him, taking in the lewd smirk on his face. He was looking at you with lidded eyes, giving them the impression of total blackness and a shiver ran down your spine, pooling into your core with an unbearable heat. He’d never been like this in all the years you’d known him; the sweet, soft-eyed Sam you knew was gone within seconds, replaced by a feral, lust-filled man that was this close to fucking you silly.

You inhaled sharply, trying not to let him get the better of you. Sure, a good, dirty fuck sounded incredible, especially with a man like Sam, but the two of you were supposed to be just friends...

He shifted and you swallowed, lifting you head when he stood straight. God, he managed to make the room look smaller when he stood his full height, all flexing muscles and tanned skin.

“When do you get time to sunbathe?” you blurted out, nerves forcing your brain into the wrong gear entirely.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “That’s where you went with that?”

“Sorry.” Your cheeks burned out of pure shame as you stood up and walked to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “It’s just… you’re really tanned and it’s distracting.”

“Am I?” He looked down at his bare chest, purposefully rolling his shoulders to show off the wide, muscular expanse of his chest, and you moaned without restraint. Sam was smirking again when he looked up, eyeing you hungrily. “You’re really tense, Y/N,” he murmured, stepping a little bit closer.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Sam?” you asked, horrified at how girly and wispy your voice sounded.

Sam laughed, backing you against the table, only inches separating you. “Is it working?”

You shivered as the heat of his skin filled the space between your bodies. His scent was intoxicating, the sweet, honey-like perfume clouding every breath you took until you were literally breathing Sam in. You whined, almost stomping your foot at how infuriatingly seductive this God of a man was.

“Yeah,” you whimpered, “yeah, it is.”

His fingers grazed your cheek, and just like that you were gone. You stretched up, practically begging him to kiss you, and he obliged without hesitation. His lips were full and warm, and his stubble was delightfully scratchy. His hands promptly slid down your back to grab handfuls of your ass, and you gasped when he pulled you flush against him. The thick line of his cock pressed against your belly, held back only by the thin fabric of his sweats. His index fingers slid down between your thighs, pressing against the damp fabric covering your pussy. 

“You’re so wet,” he breathed, “could just slide right up inside you, huh?” An indiscernible sound left your mouth. Grinning wickedly, Sam took your hand, guiding it to his cock, and you squeezed through the cloth, feeling him twitch in your fingertips. “Come here, baby girl.”

You gasped as he hauled you off the floor and slung you easily over his shoulder. Long strides carried you swiftly down the hallway, reaching his room in no time at all, and the second the door was locked he dumped you on the bed, crawling on top of you and watching your thighs press together in an effort to seek relief. He took advantage of your positioning to hood his fingers in your panties, pulling them down and tossing them off the edge of the bed. You eagerly stripped off your shirt, feeling cool air from the single fan on the nightstand wash over your sweat-dotted skin, and Sam growled at the sight of your pert nipples, practically begging to be sucked on.

“Sam, please,” you whimpered, reaching for him.

“Ah ah ah,” he teased, “not yet. I want you to see what I’ve been doing while I think about you.”

You moaned when he rolled to lie on his back beside you, slowly pushing his sweats down until his cock sprang free. He was huge, the tip almost reaching his navel, and if anything, your pussy only grew wetter thinking about what he’d look like stretching your walls out.

“Fuck,” you breathed, reaching out to try and touch him. Sam took your hand and guided it down between your own legs. 

“If you need to touch something, touch yourself,” he directed with a dark smirk. “Hands off until I say so.”

You obeyed, watching him grip the base of his dick in one hand while massaging the shaft with the other, long up-and-down strokes causing the muscles in his forearm to flex deliciously. He let out a sharp huff and groaned, his lips parted as his back arched off the bed. “Shit,” he panted, turning his head to kiss you, “touch yourself, baby, show me how needy you are.”

Again, you obeyed, rolling your clit under your middle and index fingers as Sam stroked himself. A bread of clear precum dripped from his slit, falling in a thin, clear strand down to land on the smooth skin of his lower belly. He pumped himself harder, spreading his legs and bending his knees so he could thrust up into his grip.

“I bet your pussy’s better than this,” he muttered, chest heaving with exertion, “look at what you do to me, baby, you’re such a fuckin’ turn-on.”

You moaned louder, keeping your fingers working on your clit as Sam bucked his hips up. “Sam…”

“Lemme taste you,” he said breathlessly, reaching for your hand and pulling it from between your legs. He greedily sucked your fingers between his lips and sighed, sliding his tongue across the slick pads of your fingers, moaning at the taste. “God,” he gasped once he’d gotten as much as he could, “come here.”

Sam hauled you into his lap, arranging your legs on either side of his hips. His cock pressed at your entrance, and without even a consideration of birth control, you rolled your hips, letting the thick, warm head of him slide inside. 

A gutteral shout left his lips, and you felt him throb excitedly as you sank down even more. Sam pressed his shaking fingers into your waist, holding you as you started to ride… or tried to. You’d never ridden anyone so long, so thick, and you found that it was more difficult to keep him inside you than you thought as your inner muscles clenched and pushed around him. He made it easier by holding his cock at your entrance as you adjusted, your arousal aiding you as you slid down even more until you could practically feel him in your belly, but even then, he was just so big.

“Thatta girl,” he urged, staring up at you. His bun had come partially undone, and strands of hair were stick to his forehead and neck, the combination of that with his scruff utterly mouthwatering. He craned his neck up, wrapping his lips around one pert little nipple, and you cried out as his teeth scraped the soft flesh of your breast.

“Sam, I can’t,” you shook your head, inhaling sharply when he throbbed again, “you’re too big, you need to—”

Your words choked off into a loud scream as Sam wrapped his arms around you, pulled you down until he was crushing you against his chest, and started thrusting madly into you. The thick, heavy heat of him repeatedly punching into your cunt was more than you could handle, and your next breath was ragged with pleasure. Sam held you tightly as you writhed against him, his own growls and grunts matching yours in volume and intensity.

“That’s it,” he snarled, “that’s it, baby, take it all.”

He rolled, pushing you onto your back and holding himself over you. The angle of his cock changed, and you felt him slam into your sweet spot. Tears bloomed in your eyes, and Sam only chuckled between breathy groans as you held onto him for dear life.

“S-Sam,” you stammered, “fuck, I can’t take it—”

“Yeah, you can.” He pressed a sloppy, scratchy kiss to the side of your neck and tugged your hair, exposing your throat for him to lick and suck at.

The next cry of his name turned into a rough sob, and when his teeth caught the soft skin under your chin, you almost lost control. Sam only thrust faster, pressing his knees into the mattress in order to shove his entire weight forward. Your bodies were coated with sweat, and as a rush of heat bloomed between your thighs, you realized that he was making you squirt. He felt the rush of liquid, the sudden, frantic spasming of your pussy, and his forearm came up, landing on the mattress over your shoulder and caging you in underneath him. 

“God, that’s fuckin’ nice,” he panted, staring down at you as his bony hips continued to slap against yours, “always thought you’d be a cute squirter.”

You shuddered and arched up, your breasts and stomach rubbing against Sam’s hot, firm skin. Your nails dug into his arms, and you cried out again when he gave another sharp thrust, forcing more slick to gush from your wrecked pussy.

“Yeah, look at that,” Sam nibbled at your jaw and resumed his brutal, animalistic pace, not caring as you clawed at his back and clenched your thighs around his waist. “Such a needy little cunt.”

You whimpered when he reached up to grab the headboard, his cock now impossibly deep inside you as he used the heavy wood as leverage. “Sam, p-please—”

“Please what?” He growled into your ear and practically crushed you beneath him, using his entire body to hold you down while he fucked you. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

You choked on your next words as he shoved his cock in deep and held himself there. “I n-need to come…”

Sam smirked down at you, watching as your eyes rolled back in your head. He was so deep inside you he could feel your cervix against the tip of his cock. “Oh, baby, you don’t need to ask permission.”

He growled into your ear, the primal sound sending a bolt of arousal straight down to your core. His hips jerked as he steadily worked himself back to his rhythm, and you held onto his arms, your vision going white.

“Gonna come,” you gasped, “gonna come, Sam…”

Your mouth opened in a silent scream as your orgasm slammed into you, only made more intense by the second as Sam twisted his hips, grinding his body into yours so perfectly you felt like you were melting around him. You might as well have been; the room was already sweltering.

You were barely able to think straight as you came down from your climax. Sam was grunting like an animal, his hips bucking furiously as his cock swelled, throbbed, and poured into you. His cum dripped around the edges of his cock, sliding down the curve of your ass to pool underneath you. 

No man you’d ever been with had come that much.

Finally, he fell away with a groan, his cock slipping from your folds. You felt the warm rush of his cum inside you and moaned at the feeling of it dripping out. Sam’s chest was heaving with exertion, and you heard him clear his throat.

“You okay?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.” He swallowed. “So… that happened.”

You laughed at his sudden awkwardness. “It did. It was good.”

He looked at you. “It was?”

“You made me squirt,” you said, blushing. “I made a mess.”

“Uh, more like we made a mess,” Sam corrected you, rolling onto his side and looking down at the mess between your legs. “I’m gonna need new sheets.”

You giggled and ran your fingers over the scruff on his jaw. “And I’m gonna need an ice bath.”

Sam chuckled and trailed his lips over your jaw. “I might join you on that one.”

You were just about to deepen the kiss when a fist pounded on the door. In the minutes of your frantic coupling, you’d forgotten about the other inhabitant of the bunker. 

“If you don’t mind,” Dean called grumpily, “you could keep it down next time!”

“Sorry!” You called back, grinning nevertheless as Sam slid an arm around your waist and pulled you close. 

“You’re not sorry at all,” he teased, nuzzling your jaw with the tip of his perfect, pointy nose.

You shook your head and laughed as he kissed your neck. “Nope. Not one bit.”

Likes don’t spread my work - please reblog & comment if you enjoyed reading this :)

[darkpoisonouslove]

Singing a New Tune

Summary: Valtor takes Griffin to the opera but his surprise meant to arouse carnal desires brings out unexpected feelings as well. Part 11 of Sparks of Life. Set before all the previous parts.

Don’t get fooled, this is 98% sexual content and banter. The other 2% is angst as per usual. This is an older idea (took over a year to get to it) but I finally came up with something solid and you get this. Was all the factual information in this necessary? No. But I did the research so you get it. Also, the Sparks of Life verse now exists in an alternate universe where time is warped so everything I need for a story exists at the same time (aka a vibrator before its time). Set before all the previous parts.

CW: Sexual content, edging, orgasm delay, sex toys (vibrator), a bet and public setting (for most of this)

Applying makeup in the evening traffic was a delicate process. At least Valtor had the decency to drive smoothly while she fixed the lipstick his greeting kiss had smeared over both of them.

Griffin's lips stretched into an indiscreet smile at the lingering warmth of his where the red was smudged. He'd gotten out of the car to open the door for her but instead, it had been her mouth opening for his tongue and the taste of tonic water on his breath. The musky scent of cologne wafted off of him to wrap her as tangibly as the candid thirst in his frozen irises had. Her breath had hitched under his wandering fingers, leaving his appreciation of the red satin silk hugging her body over her curves in case the push of his hips into her hadn't gotten the point across. She'd only had to stop him once his passion had threatened to muss her hairdo.

Valtor wasn't worried about the hardening erection he'd been staving off while helping her in the car, his hand palming her knee when it wasn't on the stick shift. It was pleasant if distracting with his constant motions. Each time his fingers left her leg her stomach sank a little in anticipation of their unlikely return. It had to be exhausting or at least annoying for him to constantly switch between tending to the car and feeling the fabric of her dress as a barrier between her bare skin and his. Yet, his touch was back invariably.

Griffin swung the sun visor back up, no longer in need of the little mirror it provided. "Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"

He'd called and told her to put on an evening gown for a night out. He hadn't given her specifics, only respite from the knot in her stomach with his compliment of her beauty upon arriving to pick her up from her apartment. Now she could be disoriented in peace without fretting over not fitting in with his fancy lifestyle.

"I am going to make you a bet," Valtor didn't ease on his cryptic behavior to fuel her heartbeat to faster notes in her ears. "Look inside," he pointed her to the glove compartment where a black plastic box was waiting for her.

It was a perfect polished rectangle with only two small openings in the lid for keys to lift it up. The shape corresponded to that of the attachments to the hair pin he'd presented her with upon entering the car. She'd been catching her breath still from his kiss, her cheeks the same shade as the flowers adorning the gold blush metal. She'd nestled the pin into her bun to spare Zarathustra's work from Valtor's abnormal clumsiness.

Griffin set the box in her lap. It was probably a necklace to replace the one around her neck although it went well enough with the hair pin and the bracelet she'd borrowed from Ediltrude on his instruction to adorn with gold. "That's a bit much. I've already accessorized, not without help from you."

"Aren't you curious about the centerpiece?" A smug grin took over Valtor's features even though his eyes remained on the road. He didn't have to look to find her curiosity; he'd fished it out with simple words. "If you are surprised by our destination, you'll wear what's in the box for the rest of the evening. What do you say?"

Griffin's eyes narrowed as her fingers glided over the sleek box. She had about as much idea where they were going as she did about what was inside it. The chances weren't on her side with that bet but he'd set up the perfect mystery to captivate her. "You're on."

Valtor beamed, fingers squeezing her knee lightly. Just what had she gotten herself into? His reaction was far too small to justify the joy spilling over her lungs at the look of the sparks in his eyes.

"What do I get if I win?" She had the key to the box. She could satisfy her curiosity no matter the outcome. So why did her question ring so hollow as they sped down the street?

"I have to admit I haven't thought that far," Valtor's reply was more sly than remorseful.

"Confident with yourself, aren't you?" Griffin fidgeted with her necklace when it was her heart she had to make sure was in its place. She must have lost it to him if she thought of the arrogance she'd despised at first with fondness.

"You're in my car after as vague an invitation as they come. That constitutes an absolute win in my book," Valtor caught her gaze in the few seconds the red traffic light granted them. The sincerity in his eyes was cutting despite all the times she'd already seen it and ran deep inside her bones. "Everything else is just greediness."

Griffin tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as an excuse to hide the flush blooming in her cheeks behind her hand. The Griffin that had barged into his office months ago would have scoffed at her gullibility but that woman hadn't been touched by the naked Valtor behind the suits and charming words. He was a different person from the one she'd set out to hate despite the same face. A person she could trust, not just with her physical well-being, but with her mind as well.

"Greediness is usually not a virtue in my book but this time I'll join you in your debauchery."

The corners of Valtor's mouth twitched up, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction. "Seduction is truly one of my best skills then if it grants me your company."

She'd peg him down a notch if she could find her disenchantment with his attitude. She was lucky the car enforced sitting on them as she went weak in the knees from the memories of every time his eyes had melted into a bared heart when she'd agreed to give him the time of day. Her time. He treasured it like the most valuable currency in his life. She wasn't a trophy or a possession as she'd first imagined herself from his point of view. She was a safe haven. His presence shaped her into something she never could have made out of herself. He did have an artist's touch, after all, if he hadn't proven it already all the times he'd drawn satisfaction over her being.

Griffin flipped down the sun visor again and ran her fingers over the corners of her eyes. The last thing she needed was smeared eyeshadow or mascara in her eyes.

"We're here," Valtor slowed down to give her time to look out the window.

They were passing by the Josie Robertson Plaza and the facade of the Metropolitan Opera House behind it. Even as they drove past it down Ninth Avenue, the building of the opera threatened to smash through the window with the force of her disbelief.

"I thought you hated opera," Griffin shifted in the passenger seat. He'd told her about his mothers dragging him to hours-long operas that were capable of crushing not just the spirit of a small child, but also his eardrums.

"I do," Valtor shrugged but the action was stilted. "However, I thought that was due to change if you were to indulge my experiment and accompany me."

Griffin nodded despite his occupation with the scanner in the parking garage they entered at W 62nd St.

"Are you surprised?" Valtor pocketed the ticket they were dispensed and the car was back in motion.

Griffin stared at him momentarily, jaw slackened with soft shock that was undue after all the times he'd proven he did have her best interests in mind right along with his own. He'd handed her the bet and it was only right to return the favor.

"Mhm," she nodded. "I guess that means I'll be wearing your gift." She reached for the pin in her bun but Valtor grabbed her wrist just in time with the engine shutting off.

"Not yet."

He pulled her into a kiss, her body relaxing in his arms despite the awkward angle they had to submit to. He took advantage of having no chauffeur on her request and pulled her legs over the parking brake and the stick shift and his own knee to bring her to the edge of her seat. His hand slid over the length of her thigh before squeezing at her ass while the other one tilted her face towards him to let him swallow her gasp right from her lips. He bit her lower lip to draw out a desperate whine for more as her chest pressed against his insistently as if her heart wanted to merge with his.

Valtor answered her, slipping his tongue over hers in a sensual caress while his fingers tugged playfully at the loose strand of hair. Griffin pulled on his blond locks in return to draw a moan from him in lieu of her own. Her nails scratched at his back through his shirt to launch his torso closer into her. A painful grunt reverberating through him sent their teeth clashing when her heel stabbed him in the shin and her shoulder tingled from the discomfort of being crushed between her body and the seat but neither of them let go before air was running out.

She caught a glimpse of the red smear all over his mouth before he nuzzled his head in the crook of her neck, lips tickling her sensitive skin. The off-the-shoulder dress gave him unobstructed access to her cleavage and he took the opportunity to run his fingers over the top of her breasts before slipping them between to tease the tender flesh. His teeth grazed over her heart to make her breath plunge in the hollow of her throat but they just scraped against her senses leaving a faint wet trail behind. A moan ran like a shock wave through her when Valtor fondled her breast roughly, her fingers digging into his inner thigh to jolt him.

Her breasts followed his retreating mouth, chest expanding with the breath she hungrily sucked in. Her pulse pounded in her throat and her head swam in the blur of passion wrapping them like a cocoon. Her muscles strained against the loss of proximity between her and Valtor.

"A little farther down that road and we'll miss the opera," Valtor filled the silence separating them like a brick wall. His breath came in short puffs that were barely enough to carry his voice steadily. She was tempted to say screw it and straddle him right there in a very public garage but the black box weighted her down in her seat. They hadn't managed to knock it out of her lap by a miracle. "You'll need to go to the bathroom once we enter the opera and put it in." Valtor nodded towards the plastic rectangle to pique her curiosity again and give her legs an incentive to move out of his lap.

She could use a bathroom to touch up her makeup again. Most of her lipstick was over the lower half of his face and warranted a tissue asap.

Exiting the car landed her in the glare of a woman in a close-by vehicle. It could be the smudge of lipstick on her chest that she'd missed to wipe away that got her the look or it could be the barely tinted windows of Valtor's car. At 70 percent Visible Light Transmission there was barely any difference from non-tinted glass. State laws were a real pain sometimes.

She looped an arm through Valtor's and they headed towards the Opera House. They'd practically parked at the entrance of it and she was en route to the bathroom in a minute, the box clasped in her hand.

From Valtor's wording it was safe to assume it contained a vibrator or Ben Wa balls–though, it seemed oversized for that–or some other sex toy. In any case, it was something designed to occupy both their attention and distract them from the actual opera. If he made a joke about making her sing, she would smack him with her clutch.

Once locked in a stall, Griffin finally pulled the hair pin out of her bun. It fit perfectly into the little locks and released them with a quiet click to make the lid pop up. Who knew how much it'd cost Valtor to have that mechanism custom-made.

She was met with a bright pink vibrator with an antenna for remote control. Which was where Valtor came in. She'd be at his mercy the whole time, the thought making her drip even more. She was already wet from the mystery he'd gift-wrapped for her and his fingerprints on her body. At least inserting the vibrator would be easy. Easier considering she still had to fight with her dress. It would have been so much faster with Valtor's help.

The thought of his probing fingers dipping into her arousal sent her cheeks flushing hot. A gasp tore from her when the egg fit snugly against her G-spot and the extension with the antenna aligned perfectly with her clit. She could only imagine the effect the vibrations would have. She'd had her fair share of scandalous escapades but making herself this vulnerable and handing someone the opportunity to take advantage of it was a first. She was already hot and bothered and Valtor hadn't even worked his full wicked magic on her yet.

The vibrator fit well inside her and stayed in place with her movements, just noticeable enough to make her constantly aware of its presence without even being turned on yet. Watching the couple women that walked past her while she fixed her makeup had her imagining their impossible knowledge of her situation. The rhythm of her chest was disrupted as she forced her eyes to stay on her own reflection. She'd have to make Valtor pay for reducing her to an embarrassed schoolgirl.

The sight of him outside pulled on the muscles in her lower belly, anticipation curling there for the vibrations to hit her with a simple motion of his.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, leaning into her in a way made overwhelmingly intimate by the awareness they both shared of the toy inside her.

"Yeah," she nodded weakly. "I'm fine." The tension in her body spiked at the touch of his hand at the small of her back only for her to relax in his hold.

She let him lead her to the Balcony leaning on his sturdy frame for support. Their seats were numbers 5 and 6 at box 14, on the right side of the stage. There was just one other man in their box, in the seat that was farthest removed from theirs. Only a smidge of relief to her high-strung nerves.

She clung to Valtor's arm like a lost little puppy. Her fate was in his hands and he was making small talk like the world would end if they didn't discuss the view and acoustics of their seats at length. As if he'd come to watch anything but the performance he'd make her put on.

"Have you been to the opera before?" Valtor asked. Each word stretched endlessly in her mind to break her resolve against squirming in her seat. And hadn't she told him that already when they'd spoken about opera previously?

"Yes." Griffin licked her lips to smooth out the path of the oxygen into her mouth. "Headmistress Annora had us take the students several times."

"What did you watch?" Valtor was playing the part of an opera lover with care that terrified with its lack of transparency. If someone watched them, they would never guess the salacious game he was playing with her, his full attention dedicated to an art form he sincerely couldn't stand.

"I... don't remember." Griffin pulled the black box out of her clutch where she'd managed to stuff it at the risk of it bursting at the seams just so that her brain wouldn't be stimulated with wild fantasies. Valtor was pushing her buttons with random words like there was no sophistication whatsoever to her and she shoved the box in his hand to make him direct the bountiful energy inside her before she'd lost her mind.

"Shame," he pocketed it in his suit jacket and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I could have made you si-"

She would have socked him in the jaw and dashed out of the building if the beginning of the show hadn't interrupted his pun.

"Ah, time to commence our experiment." He pulled out his phone – the remote for the pink toy inside her. "Did you know," his finger slid lazily over the screen, "that the vibrations can be activated by sound?" A tap of his fingertip and the vibrator buzzed to life inside her.

She grabbed at his suit jacket, teeth biting in her bottom lip to hold her moans in. The vibrations hit her G-spot and her clit in waves synced with the music on the stage and she was at the half point of an orgasm already. The tension in her body tightened like a knot from the charge of adrenaline. He'd gotten her this worked up like it was nothing. She'd give him a piece of her mind if she weren't pulled taut like a bowstring between the building need for release and the wariness of getting caught pink-handed to kill all of her arousal and dignity.

"That's the medium level," Valtor's voice squeezed her throat to cut off her air and keep her from crying out. "Do you want to try out the highest?"

Griffin's eyes bulged out. She couldn't handle more without screaming over the orchestra. She'd make a fool of herself and ruin the show for everyone.

Valtor was faster than her ability to form sentences that had drifted too far away for comfort and the noise from the toy increased audibly under the sounds coming from the stage. And so did the frequency of the vibrations.

She had to clamp a hand over her mouth to trap the intensity inside her body but the groans were bubbling in her throat. Her thighs were shaking, toes curling in her pumps with nothing to ground her, and she only had seconds to spare. Her fingers twisted desperately in Valtor's suit jacket in a plea he heeded as she bent over, her walls clenching hard around the toy, and the vibrations eased up on her to let her take a breath through trembling fingers.

Valtor rubbed her back in a rhythm that nearly swayed her mind out of the reach of the vibrations against her most sensitive spots. "Are you okay? Did I push you too far?" Vibrators were still a vastly uncharted territory for her. She'd barely used any before he'd introduced them to their sex life.

"I'm fine," she leaned into his arm, head nearly lulling down on his shoulder. "But I almost came. I just need a little break." She hadn't backed that far away from the edge and she had never had a quiet orgasm in her life. Even when she'd been young and hadn't quite known how to bring herself the most pleasure, she'd had to muffle her noises with a pillow. And biting down into his collar wouldn't get the job done with so many people across the hall that would notice.

Valtor tapped his phone screen again and the intensity of the vibrations dropped to a level that was barely noticeable compared to the previous two. "Better?"

Griffin nodded. "Much. Thank you." Her lungs had an easier time expanding for air without moans constantly threatening to erupt from her open mouth.

"I could turn it off if you want?" Valtor caught her gaze, the blue of his eyes glistening with worry.

"No, it's fine. Really." He'd wanted her to wear it all evening–while turned on–and she loved a challenge.

"We could try out different patterns to the vibrations if you want."

Griffin shook her head. If they were following the sound patterns of the show, then there was less risk of making noise through quiet moments during the performance. That setting was working out in her favor. "No, we were experimenting with the opera experience, weren't we?" she managed a grin.

"So you want to leave it as it is?" A devilish note crept in his voice. "You know you won't be able to come on the low setting, right? You'll be teased without relief the whole time." His fingers brushed innocently against her breast to raise her skin into goosebumps.

She couldn't afford to come anyway but the certainty of that fact wasn't reassuring. "How long is this thing anyway?" They were watching the abridged version of The Magic Flute in English. It couldn't be that bad.

"An hour and 45 minutes."

A groan slipped past her lips to draw a glare from the man in front of them. At least that implied that he hadn't noticed their other activities.

"You have quite the way to go," Valtor leaned over, pulled in by the stronger vibration echoing through her body when the orchestra hit a high note.

"Are you discouraging me?" She didn't need consequences to her failure to be motivated to avoid it. Her pride was enough of a drive to grit her teeth through the merciless teasing of the toy inside her.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Valtor's hand clamped down on her thigh in a purposeful squeeze that made her walls clench around another tide of intensity from the vibrator. "Your reactions are so fascinating to watch."

"Thank you," Griffin returned the gesture smirking when it went directly into his cock and the little jolt of arousal pried his fingers off her thigh. He had a phone to pay attention to but her hands were free to pay him back for the teasing in case it got too unbearable. She'd have the time of her life if it weren't a double-edged sword and thus, saved as a last resort.

She turned her attention on the stage and the performances. She had a vague memory of hearing about the plot of that particular opera but nothing to make it familiar to her which wasn't necessarily a disadvantage. The costumes easily caught the eye with their brightness and peculiarity and the sets and props were breathtaking. The paper birds they had flying around on strings were her favorite detail and the only thing that managed to fully free her mind from the clutches of the vibrator inside her.

Getting immersed in the show was only setting herself up for failure when she forgot about the shift in the stimulation to her sensitive spots that would come with the change in the music on stage. It was a wicked scheme masterfully crafted by Valtor whose smug grin was always nestled in her hair or the crook of her neck. His breath tickling her skin and a casual whisper caressing her ear only pinned her focus on her overflowing arousal like the tip of a razor-sharp sword.

Tears sprang in her eyes at a high note that was repeated in a devastating sequence of vibrations for her. It was just short of making her tip over the edge of pleasure to leave her teetering on the verge of losing her mind instead as her whole body trembled.

"C-can I-I have your j-jacket?" she pleaded with Valtor, desperation making her voice even shakier.

"Of course," he took it off immediately, the commotion earning them more disapproval from the man in their box. "Are you cold?" he helped her put it on, allowing her to keep an arm wrapped around herself so that she wouldn't fall apart.

"No." She did several buttons to have the oversized jacket clinging around her frame like a tent to hide the uncontrollable reactions of her body from prying eyes.

Valtor chuckled.

"Don't laugh at me!" she scolded, her voice rising above the influence of the toy.

"I'm not. I'm just admiring your ingenuity." Valtor tucked a strand that had pried loose from her bun behind her ear, his touch sending shivers through her with the fantasies of him slamming her down on his bed and giving her the orgasm she had to deny herself. "I'm surprised you're still able to think so quickly and efficiently."

"Next time you'll be the one with a vibrator in your pants."

"Deal," Valtor agreed instantly, his eyes twinkling like happy stars on a warm summer night. "I never imagined I'd be eager to come to the opera but you've worked a miracle for me." His fingers stroked over her cheek gratefully to quiet down the screaming need of her body for a moment.

"Not for love of the opera." She wasn't even sure how many characters there were supposed to be in the show they were watching. But at least she had an excuse. Valtor couldn't say that much and he'd caught even less of the performance, his eyes clinging to her form the whole time to add more tantalizing caresses over her skin. Her panties were soaked and she had no idea what state her dress was in. She could very well be needing his suit jacket to cover up her mess once they headed out.

"That's good enough for me." His eyes grew darker like a storm cloud, the change from the deep shade of desire that had filled them grotesque. "This is more fun than I could have imagined one could have at the opera."

"You paid how much for tickets exactly just so you could fool around?" Cold and heavy dread cut through her lower belly to make the curling pleasure in there sizzle out. From the right angle she was just another toy for a rich boy like Valtor to entertain himself with. And she'd allowed it, had been the one placing herself in his hands.

"The money still goes to the form of art regardless of how I spend my time during the performance." Valtor turned off the vibrator snapping in half the chain dragging her mind down. "I see no harm or exploitation in a mutually beneficial situation."

The art was probably suffering from being ignored in favor of carnality but two tickets purchased was surely better for everyone involved in its making than two empty seats. And she hadn't left her apartment to go to the opera. She'd left to be with Valtor, the thought sparkling a warmth in her heart that lightened up her whole body.

"Sometimes when you grow up with limited resources, any frivolities feel like a crime." She was reeling in the freedom of his company. The suspense of getting caught was shedding from her like an old skin that was only stifling her progress. She'd outgrown the need for shame over treating her own desires with respect thanks to Valtor. After seemingly putting his selfishness over her agency the first time they'd met, she couldn't have expected such a valuable gift from him of all people. But he'd kept the miracles coming into her life, surprise after surprise that satisfied every craving of her heart for affection and kindness before she'd even recognized it.

"You don't have to justify yourself," Valtor cupped her cheek. "You are stunning just as you are."

The trembling of her lip could disintegrate him into the dust out of which her imagination had made him if she leaned into the impulse to kiss him. Instead, her hand sliding in his left trouser pocket startled him half out of his seat as it closed in on his cock.

"We're entering a dangerous territory here," Valtor chuckled, the sound coming from his throat far from the smooth composure that was slipping through his fingers as he gripped the armrest of his seat.

"You're the one that set us on that path." There was nothing in the bet to suggest she couldn't return the favor of robbing him of his lucidity.

"If you take us any further down it, I will need my suit jacket back." To his credit, he didn't reach to remove her hand or obstruct her access to his rapidly hardening erection. It was a competition now of who could stand the heat better, his ragged breathing reverberating through her over the score of the opera. The muscle memory of him sinking to the hilt inside her synced to his pants in her ear unfolded through her body despite the inappropriate setting. She was still wound up even with the break he'd let her catch.

"And leave a lady in need?" Griffin crossed her legs, the motion echoing through her own pleasure centers as her shoe brushed against his calf. "Not very gentlemanly of you."

"Did the vibrator inside you fail to convey the right impression?" The stimulation returned with the barest flick of his fingers over his phone screen.

Her foot tapped back on the floor and her hand flew out of his pocket as she sat up. She bunched up the fabric of her dress in her fist, her teeth sinking into her tongue to sever the surprised squeak threatening to give her away. She'd counted too much on fair play from him. It was her own mistake.

"Finders keepers." She smirked at him through the tame but insistent buzz against her sweet spots. The break had done more harm than good relaxing her muscles only for them to be pulled taut with yearning again. "I could lend you my clutch if you're in such dire need." She dropped it in his lap to provide herself the perfect cover to cup him through his pants.

Squeezing his rock-hard cock rapidly ended in an unearthly curse from Valtor's lips as his hips bucked into her hand and he had to jerk it away. They had to have drawn someone's eye with their conspicuous behavior but her whole focus was swallowed by the shift in vibrations from the toy. He'd switched up the pattern to leave her mouth hanging open without her palm to cover it. Unfortunately for him, without her clutch she had a free hand to resume his torture.

"Whoever's reduced to a bigger mess at the end of the show will be at the mercy of the other then," she pushed out through gulps of air. The flush in her cheeks could pass as excessive rouge and her labored breathing could be blamed on Valtor's cologne. Her shaking legs would be harder to ignore but Valtor's glaring erection would lose him the challenge any time.

"Did the teasing finally get to your brain?" Valtor altered the vibration pattern again to make her squirm in her seat, nails digging in her thighs through the red of her dress. "If I keep this up," another change of the stimulation to make her nerve-endings scream, "you'll be begging me for the high setting soon with no regard for propriety." He was on the right track, the world around her narrowing down to just the two of them and the phone in his hand the further the vibrations reverberated through her being.

The vague awareness of the multitudinous audience around them was an issue that was too easy to shrug off in her hazy mind. With it out of the way, she leaned over to let out her whimpers and moans right into his ear and make him shift in his seat in search of unobtainable relief. Keeping her voice down was a struggle she had to risk in the name of victory.

Valtor's losing battle against her vocalness forced him to swallow down his own noises and fiddle with her clutch for some cover to his straining cock. Too preoccupied with reining in his own breathing, he returned to the sound activated setting as a last lack of courtesy to her.

The music from the stage made for unpredictable stimulation against which she couldn't brace herself. Squeezing her legs together only pressed the vibrator harder into her clit to spread the shaking through her whole body underneath Valtor's suit jacket. Gasping was her default state of existence when the opera hit its climax. The world was disintegrating under her fingers with the intensity trapped inside her without spilling. It was just short of sending her over the edge of release.

Valtor's breath in her ear was the only outside force penetrating the barrier her eyelids had dropped on her mind. "You have about five more minutes to go." In other words – an eternity on the cusp of madness. "Shame we have to put an end to things so soon," he slipped a finger under the neckline of her dress, running it over the top of her breast and back to add more to the tingling overtaking her body. "I could watch your chest dance in its own rhythm for days on end."

A strangled cry escaped her at the cruelty of his imagination.

"And your face is an ethereal sight to behold in the throes of passion."

Bastard. His fingers rested calmly on her breast while hers twitched into the skirt of her dress, separating them from relieving her of her predicament. He wouldn't turn up the setting on her no matter how much her whole being strained towards the pleasure she'd left in his hands. She'd have to beg to earn his benevolence.

"You want me to count the minutes down for you?" Valtor's smugness dripped over her spine in shivers.

"If I were you," she licked her lips, her voice roughed up by the edges of her frustration, "I would take the time to... commit a fleeting experience to memory."

"You would deny me the pleasure of seeing you this way again?" he brushed away a strand of hair from her burning cheek.

"Long live hypocrisy."

"You are the one who's been denying yourself this whole time. And rest assured I won't let you go unsatisfied after working you up so thoroughly."

She looked at him, the promise encased in his eyes shaking her heart, too, with all the meaning he'd added to a game of pride and stubbornness. His fingers responded to hers faster than her breasts had lured them in and clasped her hand securely to lead it to his lips for a kiss. Perhaps not a gentleman but gentle with her, and that was enough.

On the stage below them the opera crested to its final notes. The calm before the storm as the loud applause exploding around them for the vibrator to echo it pushed her to the limits of holding back an orgasm. Her will was the only thing keeping her on the verge of one but she couldn't let go. She wouldn't.

The stimulation eased up when the excitement over the finale of the opera settled to a quiet buzz throughout the hall. Valtor got up and waited for her to collect herself. She'd lost the additional bet as well but that was the least of her worries.

Comparing her legs to jello would be putting it lightly. Valtor had to pull her out of her seat and support about 98 percent of her weight as she leaned heavily on him. At least his suit jacket was long enough to cover whatever stain her arousal might have left on her dress.

Valtor had to practically carry her down the stairs drawing most eyes around them but she couldn't be bothered to care. The vibrator had quieted down inside her to leave her dangerously relaxed. She had to watch out for sudden loud noises that ran through her like electric charges.

Valtor picked her up once they were outside to draw a squeal from her in revenge for all the noises she'd swallowed down. The motions pushed the vibrator harder against her clit just in time to tease it with the impact of her own voice but her muscles had already slackened in Valtor's embrace. Half her hair fell out of her bun as she rested her head on his shoulder. She must have thrashed harder than she'd thought in her seat.

Valtor gently placed her into the passenger seat as if she was fragile and dropped off her clutch in her lap. The vibrator barely responded to the quiet noises of him settling in the car. He unlocked his phone and handed it to her before he'd rev up the engine and jolt the toy back to life.

"You can try out the high setting and all the patterns you like. I can't imagine the restraint you had to exhaust on behalf of my little game." He got the car in gear before she could think too hard about his words. Her brain was stirred into mush by all the frustration she'd accumulated but that couldn't stop her heart from following.

"I didn't wait this long to come in your car with that thing still inside me instead of your cock."

Valtor floored the brakes so hard she was almost thrown in the dashboard without her seatbelt buckled. The car driving behind them honked continuously which would have sent her over the edge of an orgasm if she hadn't switched up the settings before driving past them and towards the exit.

Valtor looked at her with wide eyes as if he was seeing the world for the first time. His stare was intense enough to bring the blush creeping back up her neck and sides. Instead, it was his hand sliding up in her ruined hairdo. "How did I deserve your commitment?"

Commitment? Hadn't there been something to that effect in the opera? A character singing about his search for a wife? She was speeding in the motionless car and getting ahead of herself but Valtor caught her, his lips covering hers like a silky blanket.

That kiss was slow and gentle against her raw senses, his mouth just barely moving against hers and his tongue gently stroking a promise for later over hers. His free hand cupped the side of her neck with a slight tremble that quickly settled in the feel of her heartbeat underneath. Her lungs kept to a slow pace steadily breathing him in. The warmth of his proximity on her skin relaxed her body against the seat until she was floating in softness, in the embrace of the intimacy they shared.

Valtor touched his forehead to hers briefly to invite the closeness to stay after their lips parted. "Thank you for indulging me tonight. It'll be my pleasure to give you as many orgasms as you want."

"Any number will do if you truly commit to the execution." He was supposed to be lost in her body moving with his like one, not in the depths of self-deprecation.

Her voice had Valtor fishing in the pockets of his suit jacket for the ticket from the parking to avoid denying her any longer than necessary. They'd both waited enough for each other to be that unjust to themselves.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss, Ch. 5 [18+/NSFW]

<- Chapter 4 | Chapter 6 ->

Summary: After your not-boyfriend, Frederick Chilton, turns out to be not-dead, you hope you can elevate your status from fuckbuddies. Maybe be honest about how you feel? But honesty is haaard... especially when he is more closed-off than ever.

(This is probably my favorite chapter. It has actual smut. And ridiculous idiots, and fluuuuuuuff)

5,075 words

After Hannibal fled, leaving a bloodbath in his wake, Dr. Frederick Chilton returned to the land of the living and to administrating his psychiatric hospital as if he had simply been away on vacation.

Likewise, your relationship resumed where it had left off. You thought things would be different now—that you would be more honest with your feelings, and he might open up, too—but nothing changed, except for the things that changed in a direction you didn’t like.

“Oh, Doctor Chilton, I need help,” you purred, leaning seductively against the doorway of his office. He sat up rigidly in his leather chair and stammered a greeting with failed nonchalance.

Since his return, his voice shot up an octave whenever you walked in the room. He was like a shy teenager with his first crush, and you could only assume he was re-learning how to exist in the world after trauma. What else would it be?

Slinking up to his desk, you unfastened the top buttons of your shirt. He swallowed, hungry, but not immediately pouncing upon you with a lewd promise growled in your ear and a firm grasp on your hip like he used to do. New reserves of insecurity crouched beneath his skin like lions hidden in tall grass. It broke your heart to see that timidity in his eyes, but it was all incentive for you to work harder to relax him.

“I’m afraid I don’t have insurance, doctor,” you pouted, pushing aside a stack of papers to sit on his desk. “And mental health care is prohibitively costly because of a broken for-profit system, leaving the most vulnerable populations without access…” you put an emphasis on vulnerable, biting your lip.

He quirked a brow. “Your sexy-talk needs work.” 

“Oh, doctor,” you moaned, sliding off the desk and straddling his lap to pull at his tie. “Until we get universal healthcare”—you brought the end of his orange tie up to your mouth and bit it, gazing coquettishly into his eyes—“surely there’shh some ofther way I can pay you…” you lisped, mouth stuffed full of tie. 

He never knew it was possible to laugh, be annoyed, and aroused at the same time, but you were always teaching him new things. 

“That would be a severe ethics violation,” he said sternly, brows lowered, but clearly teasing. You snorted. 

It was impossible to remain self-conscious around someone flirting so badly. His hesitation melted away as he turned your awkward role-play around on you, so you moved on to phase two. Sinking to your knees at the foot of his chair, half under his desk, you smoothed the fabric of his pants over his lap, rubbing his inner thighs to coax his legs open and position yourself between them.

He drew in a sharp breath, but disguised it as a gasp of offense. “This is highly inappropriate. I am going to have to ask you to leave my office. Future visits will be attended by a nurse to ensure proper conduct, or I can refer you to another psychiatrist,” he said in a dry monotone, fully committed to playing hard-to-get. You growled in annoyance at him in between bursts of laughter. He patted your head patronizingly. “Now, now, I am a magnanimous doctor. I am not angry with you as a patient for this behavioral outburst… just disappointed.”

You licked your lips. Challenge accepted. You ran your hands over the front of his dress pants until you found the outline of his cock, and stroked it through the fabric, arching your back while giving him your best please-fuck-me look. He swallowed.

Unzipping the fly, you reached into the warmth of his pants, searching through a bed of curled hairs until you found his cock and drew it out to admire. The skin was velvety and soft, pulsing with heat as you gave it a few slow strokes, watching it grow larger and more firm. You loved it at its full arousal, when it took its sculptural form and shape with veins running up the underside of the shaft, when the foreskin pulled back and the domed pink head stood out, ready to plunge itself into you. 

God, you loved his cock. 

“On the other hand,” he quickly changed his mind, “perhaps I require a demonstration of this ‘alternative payment.’ For the sake of due diligence.” 

Your brought your tongue to its head and gave a teasing lick, tasting the salt of his precum, then kissed it like you would kiss his lips. You pecked a series of kisses down the length of his shaft until you were buried in his neatly trimmed curls, lips brushing the wrinkled skin of his balls, then flattened your tongue against his cock and traced a torturously slow wet line from the base to the tip. 

“I confess... you are my most attractive patient,” he said in a shaky, staggering breath, one side of his lips quirking upward. His chest was rising and falling rapidly now. He wanted more. “That is very good.” Not content with you stopping to look up at him, his hand cradled the back of your head, pushing you down and urging you to continue. “But I will need more payment than that.”  

Taking his entire thick cock in your mouth, you slid down it until he hit the back of your throat and you gagged, eyes watering a little as you adjusted to having your throat stuffed full of him, jaw forced open wide. His manicured fingers curled into your hair, gently petting you. “Easy,” he soothed. 

It was nice sucking the dick of someone as fastidiously clean as Frederick Chilton. You always appreciated that as you began, moving slowly up his shaft until your lips were only closed around the swollen head, licking it gently, then faster until you felt his fingers tighten. He always tasted faintly of soap and very little else. His sedentary lifestyle helped as well; he was never running around and building up a nasty sweat. It was a pleasant little bonus to the whole affair. His cock was the most delicious you’d ever had.

Your head bobbed up and down in his lap with renewed vigor, building a rhythm with his hand gently guiding you to his preference (which you followed to please him, and deviated from to get a reaction). You loved watching his face—his breathing as he struggled to control it, the way his mouth twitched, and his eyes watched you work. That desperate little whine in his throat when you broke his rhythm, which grew into a low moan he tried to suppress when you started a new one.

He gave you instructions: slower, faster, use your tongue... just like that. Good. You twisted, and sucked, and pumped his base with your hands, gliding your tongue along the underside of his cock until the exquisite moment when he broke down, and stopped trying to keep his breathing (and noises) under control. By the end, he was a shaking mess mess, barely able to stammer out “k-keep going!” You loved to watch the moment he surrendered to you completely, his fingers digging into your scalp as his hips jerked helplessly, and his mouth falling open as he released into you, moaning and gasping so loudly the staff were sure to hear. 

You kept him buried in your mouth as his hot seed spilled on your tongue, swallowing every drop until his muscles stopped their convulsions, and you licked his cockhead clean. Cleaning up was a pain in the ass otherwise (and Frederick might implode if any got on his dress pants), but also, his largely vegetarian diet made him taste exceptionally sweet. You smiled up at him and ran your tongue over your lips as he panted, a sheen of sweat on his brow. 

As he was coming down, the phone on his desk rang, and naturally, the ambitious jerk answered it without so much as a thank you, or even putting his dick away. Orgasm complete: never mind you, back to work. Based on his half of the conversation, it sounded important—something about a publishing deal for a book he writing on Hannibal the Cannibal. The tone of his voice took on that haughty smarter-than-you air as the topic turned to intellectual property rights, and he was clearly driving for more money. So you started sucking his overstimulated dick. He gasped loudly into the receiver, and stared down at you in horror as he tried to cover for it. “I apologize. A bee got into my office, and I have to swat it.” He pushed you off his lap, eyes sparking like choppy waves on a windy sea.

“That was rude,” he growled when he got off the phone, a somewhat deranged smile slanting up one side of his face. He bent you over the desk and slapped your ass, whispering promises into your ear of how he would pay you back later.

You knew he would keep his promises. Each one. He had a lot more aggression to work out lately, and while you weren’t its target, a good hard fuck always made him feel better. You knew when you went to his house tonight you were guaranteed to have a lot of fun in a lot of positions—but you also knew when you were done, he would usher you out with some excuse for why you could’t stay.

That was the biggest, and worst, change. You thought the incident would bring you closer, but he hadn’t let you spend one night with him since the day he was shot.

It made you feel cheap.

Worse, it meant you were drifting apart. He used to be grateful (though he would never admit it) that you were there for the nightmares. When he woke up shaking he would turn to hold you, crushing you against his chest like a teddy until the shaking stopped, and he drifted back to sleep still holding you tight. You would have thought he would need you there more than ever, now. Something made him stop trusting you.

  *****

“Did I do something wrong?”

You were in the cramped passenger seat of his midlife-crisis Porsche cabriolet as he drove you home yet again, and a silence had fallen over him. It was a warm spring night with beautiful stars in the breeze above you glowing their brightest, albeit faded amid the glow of Baltimore’s city lights.

“Not at all. I am simply setting healthy boundaries, darling. I begin to suspect you only like me for the amenities.”

His house was new—he did not want to move back into the place he had found Abel Gideon dissected, and Hannibal had slaughtered and arranged two FBI agents for display—and even more grandiose than the last. All of the staircases were spiral for some unfathomable reason (because it was fancier), and it contained an entire gym, pool, gourmet kitchen, and a television the size of an actual movie theater screen. The bath had hot-tub jets.

Admittedly, it was nice staying there. It made you feel like someone who’d seen the inside of a country club. But his answer was complete bullshit.

“You know I don’t care about all your fancy crap,” you groaned.

“Do I? You told me you only stayed the night because my house was nice, and you enjoyed my coffee.”

Ouch. OK. Called out. “Obviously I was lying! I only like your stuff because it’s part of who you are—I can’t imagine you not being shamelessly bourgeoisie—not because I want a sugar daddy. If that’s what you’re worried about… why don’t we stay at my apartment?”

The thought never crossed his mind that you might call his bluff. He was horror-stricken.

“At your little… chalet?” he said like he was poking a dead bug with the end of a stick.

“It’s an apartment.”

Trapped by his own logic, instead of dropping you at your front door, Frederick got out and hobbled up the narrow staircase with you.

“My god, what is this? For ants?”

“It’s called a full bed, Frederick, and there’s plenty of room,” you answered with a little annoyance creeping into your voice. You knew he was prissy, but from the moment he set foot in your two-bedroom (which you could barely afford) he had been acting like he was in a decrepit slum. It was hilarious, actually, how living like a normal human being made him squirm.

He flopped down into the middle of the mattress, a sullen expression on his face like a toddler in a time-out. “You cannot expect me to sleep on this prison cot.”

“Move over,” you nudged him, crawling onto the covers beside him. “There’s plenty of room if we cuddle.”

He didn’t look interested in cuddling at the moment, however. He stared up at the ceiling like he was about to explode. You smiled. Even at his bitchiest and sulkiest, there was no one else you would rather spend time with. He tugged at your heartstrings. You admired his profile—his square brow that could express so much emotion (right now: petulance), the new scar on his cheek that was clearly the source of some embarrassment to him (though you thought it looked rugged), the stubble down his jaw with the slightest hint of grey. He was just so handsome.

Seeing his scar this close up was rare, as he always tried to keep you on his right side whenever you were seated or laying next to each other. You rested your chin on your arm and smiled at him, but he didn't smile back, or even glance over. He just stared at the ceiling like you weren’t even there. You waggled your eyebrows suggestively, hoping to get a laugh (or an irate glare that was secretly a laugh).

No response at all. He was moody.

You rolled on your side to cuddle him, intent on kissing that scar, but when your hands touched his chest, he flinched, recoiling with a surprised yelp.

That was the last straw. His nostrils flared and eyes widened as if this was the gravest indignity he had ever suffered. He jumped up from the bed frantically saying, “I have to go.”

And he did. Just like that.

You tried not to cry. He was being a jerk. He was going through post-traumatic stress. He just needed space, and it wasn’t your fault, you said, but you counted up all of the ways it was your fault anyway.

You were always so blunt and rude with him. As much as he deserved it when he was being officious, exploitative, surly, or generally the poster child for “check your privilege,” he probably didn’t want to be around someone who called him out all the time. It was a miracle he tolerated you at all. You’d gone easier on him since he returned from the dead, but maybe he simply didn’t want a rude fuckbuddy anymore.

You decided you wouldn’t bother him. He needed space, and you constantly showing up at his office and calling his house wasn’t helping, and it obviously wasn’t what he wanted.

Not three days went by before he called wondering where you had been. You could hear him trying to hide the worry in his voice, and the relief when you told him you were fine, and not angry. He wanted to see you. Not just the usual tryst, either: he wanted to take you out for dinner.

You had no idea what was going on.

  *****

Chilton was terrified when you stopped calling him. His greatest fear hit him deeper than a scalpel—that you were dead. Hannibal was back from wherever it was he went, and he was killing off everyone close to his enemies. Or any other of hundreds of killers. When it was clear that nothing horrible had happened to you, and you were, in fact, alive, he realized his second greatest fear—he had fucked up and finally driven you away.

A few of his exes used to give him the cold shoulder when he had committed some error, like failing to spoil them with gifts or expensive dinners, or pretending to forget their name. Maybe you, too, were punishing him, and he still had a chance to win you back. It seemed very likely that you wanted more from him than just sex. He had been selfish and unreciprocal with you—though outwardly, you never asked for anything else, except to stay the night. But he could never do that, not anymore.

Instead, pampering you at a Michelin-star restaurant seemed like a good start.

  *****

Dinner with Chilton that night made it clear why you had never gone out on a proper date with him before. His world was not your world.

As you walked in, you were fairly sure the maître d' glared at you for wearing what you considered your nicest outfit—but given that your typical dinner was boxed mac n’ cheese in your underwear, your best may not have been up to standard.

Frederick was at the bar waiting for you, severely out-dressing you in a formal black suit and dazzlingly contrasting tie, but didn’t make any underhanded comments on your attire. He crossed the room to meet you, flashing that used-car-salesman smile he hadn’t used on you since the first time you met, and offered his elbow in a revoltingly genteel fashion. It was like he was a stranger.

The the maître d’hôtel guided you to your reserved table, and Frederick set his cane to the side, sat, and crossed his legs. You felt like you were being interviewed. Was this an interview? From an inner pocket of his suit jacket, he produced and handed you a silver-inlaid pen that cost more than your rent.

“I don’t want this.” You left it sitting on the white tablecloth and stared at it like an alien artifact, trying to figure out what made it better than a two-dollar pen from the drugstore. Maybe he could still return it.

He got flustered, blinking in confusion, then held his chin up haughtily, jaw clenched. “No accounting for taste, then.”

You groaned. For some reason he wasn’t pretending to be wounded this time, he actually felt rejected. Over a stupid overpriced pen. “Fine! I’ll take it if it’ll make you feel better,” you caved in, snatching it off the table. “But if we break up, I’m pawning this.”

His mouth curled, primed to make a retort, but then went slack.

Was he thinking of breaking up?

Was that what dinner was about? That’s right—that trick of breaking up in a public space so you won’t cry and make a scene. It would explain why he’d been acting so nervous and distant lately. Why else would he suddenly want to take you out?

An awkward silence fell over the table. You wished this place had paper napkins you could stress-doodle on with your stupid new pen. Was it a breakup gift? Were breakup gifts a thing?

The waiter blessedly interrupted to take your orders, which Chilton gently assisted you with because everything was in French, the menu did not have pictures, and none of it appeared to be mac n’ cheese. He also ordered an entire bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild for the table, which you divined from the slight puffing out of his chest was meant to impress you.

When it didn’t, things went back to being sulky and awkward. By the time the bread arrived at the table, he had already downed a glass, and reached to pour himself another.

Instead of grabbing the open bottle, he completely misjudged the distance and knocked it on its side with a string of swears. Dark red liquid poured out onto the table. Acting quickly, you reached to pick it up, but collided with Chilton who was also trying to salvage the bottle, and succeeded only in batting it toward him where a puddle of wine began overflowing over the edge onto his suit.

Puddle! Spilling! You needed to mop up the excess quickly! You grabbed slices of baguette and started soaking it up.

“Why are you using bread when there are napkins for this?” Chilton hissed.

“I don’t know! You’re the dumbass who knocked over the Roth IRA Burgundy.”

His eyes bulged from his skull. “Rothschild! Bordeaux! And it wasn’t that bad until you flung it at me!”

“Do you want to help, or do you want to continue berating me?”

“I am more than capable of doing both!” he cried, grabbing a napkin and righting the bottle.

The table was a complete disaster. Wine even got all over your stupid fancy pen, which matched the stupid fancy pen in his office. Oh. That was sort of sweet, actually. As you wiped it dry, you noticed it had your name inscribed around one of the silver rings.

The waiter hurried over to assist, and Chilton looked positively mortified.

“Sorry,” you shrugged sheepishly. “I’m a little clumsy.”

After much fussing and cleaning was finished, Chilton sat back in his chair, eyes boring into you. He swallowed.

“Why did you...?”

“They already think I’m a mess, this way they’ll at least let you back in here.”

“Well, that is very…” a dark blush crept up his neck from under his collar. “You didn’t have to do that"

You reached your hand across the fresh tablecloth, and he took it, rubbing soft circles in the flesh between your thumb and forefinger. (It was a testament to your familiarity that the massive, ostentatious gold ring he always wore no longer felt in the way when you held his hand.) His eyes lingered on you, and the blush continued working its way up to his face.

Things felt open enough to quietly ask, “So, what is all this, anyway? You’ve never wanted to take me out before.”

“I assumed you wanted something from me; you have been ignoring me,” he bristled slightly at your density. “If this is not it, then what?”

You blinked. He really thought you’d been holding out on him to… get something? And the way his voice strained when he asked, “then what?” told you he would do whatever it was you requested.

You shook your head at the tablecloth and squeezed his hand. “The way you left the other day, I assumed you didn’t want to be around me.”

“Oh.” The brilliant psychiatrist hadn’t thought of that.

He didn’t apologize, and you knew he never would (about anything—it was one of the reasons so many people wanted to punch him), but his demeanor softened and any resentment you’d been holding onto faded with his dumbfounded expression.

“So.” You cleared your throat. “How’s… uh, psychiatry?”

“Well, most daily therapy sessions I have delegated to focus on writing…” He launched into a mundane description of his work, and you just… talked. Like a normal couple. It was strange in its ordinariness, but it was nice to not have your entire interaction revolve around getting dick. It made going back to his mansion after dinner and getting dick even more meaningful. You were sure this time he would let you stay.

When he tried to send you away again, you had had enough.

  *****

“I don’t understand, what changed?” you asked a little too brusquely and immediately regretted it. “I know you need space,” you breathed out in a more understanding tone, “but I need to know where we stand… Do you want to break up with me?”

He froze in the middle of throwing a shirt on over his bare chest and dropped it back into the dresser, turning to gawk at you with shocked-wide eyes. “What? No! Of course not.”

That was a relief at least. “Then why won’t you let me stay?”

He was far too exposed: his abdominal scar still prominently pointing up to his blaze of brown chest hair, and you, ambushing him in his own bedroom. “You cannot let it go, can you? You want to know?!” he snapped, limping resentfully across the room. He had reached a breaking point. “It’s because I cannot sleep with the prosthetics in.”

“The...” your brain crashed and you frantically clicked enter on the reboot screen, “...prosthetics…?”

He scowled. “Did you believe the bullet passed neatly through the copious empty space in my skull without causing any collateral damage? That this little scar is the sum total of my injury?”

Of course. You hadn’t even considered that there was more to his near-fatal shooting than what you saw on the surface. It was breathtakingly ignorant now that you thought about it. He was shot. In the head. He spent weeks at an expensive medical resort where they could perform all kinds of reconstructive miracles, and he let you believe he was dead until they had finished whatever it was they were fixing.

“Show me.”

His face twitched. “You do not want to know.”

“I do.”

“Then I do not wish you to know.”

“Why?”

Emotion boiled under his face, but he breathed in through his nose and kept his outward composition calm, controlled. “It would change the way you see me. Every time you look at me, I do not want you to see that.”

You crossed the room to him. Gently, you put your hand on his arm, and slowly rubbed up and down. His breathing was shallow, controlled but barely. He didn’t push you away. You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his neck, listening to his pulse whispering a swift beat. “I just want to know you, Frederick. Please.”

  *****

Doctors had seen it. That was by necessity: he had paid for the best cosmetic prosthetics available in the country to look exactly like his old self, with the exception of the scar on his left cheek which could never be fully hidden.

He had shown it to Mason Verger, but that, too, was different—a mutual display of their motivations for revenge. It was almost a contest to see who was the more disgusting, the most wronged.

You would not be the first to see his face, but you were the first whom he cared about disgusting. The first whom he cared about. He did not want to see you recoil from him in shock. He did not want to lose you. He did not want you to see the darkness hanging over him.

He acquiesced, but refused to make a circus display of taking his teeth out in front of you, and vanished into the master bathroom for a long time. As you waited, you rehearsed not reacting—not showing a hint of shock that would make him regret the choice to let you in—yet as each minute ticked by, you grew more and more anxious.

The door opened.

“Jesus fuck.”

His lower eyelid sagged without the support of a massive chunk of facial bone holding it in place, and the eye within was the milky blue-white of a fish preserved in formaldehyde. The skin of his cheek sagged over half a mouth of missing teeth, and the left corner of his lip hung slightly too loose.

“Eloquent as always,” he said, adding some bite to the word. He hoped you knew what a jerk you were.

You rushed in to hold him, and he stiffened, looking away. “Oh, your eye,” you whined. He must have been completely blind in it, but he masked it so well you never noticed. He flinched as you touched his face.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

You pulled your hand back and searched his expression. “Do you want me to stop?”

He thought about it, and huffed, rolling one eye. You were being so cute, and at least not fleeing in terror. He stuck his chin out. “Go ahead. Do what you want.”

With a sour frown, he let you explore his skin with your fingertips, finding scars and hollow cavities where bone was supposed to be. “You’re missing… oh, god, it must have shattered the maxillary bone, and,” you felt farther back, continuing to find hollow gaps. “Oh god, baby…”

“Do not pity me, it is unbecoming.”

“Heh,” you breathed, slyly sliding your hands up over his shoulders and arcing them loosely around the back of his neck. “I thought you didn’t care about my motivations,” you said, languidly drawing out each vowel.

That earned an irritated look, finally meeting your gaze. You grinned back.

“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip.

You kissed him all along the sagging side of his mouth, pressing your lips to every new contour and texture. A few worried noises escaped his throat, along with half-formed words of caution of what you might not want to kiss, but they were quickly swallowed by groans of pleasure as you worshiped his mouth, reveling in each new discovery. All his imperfections were perfect, and you wanted him to feel that in every touch, filling each glowing breath with all the love and acceptance in your heart.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore, but it itches.”

“I hate itches.”

“As do I,” he breathed.

You kissed him again, this time his tongue danced along your lips to taste you. It darted between your teeth, curling around your tongue as his strong hands snaked around the back of your head, pulling you harder into the kiss. He grunted, teeth clashing with yours as your lips interlocked with feral passion, consuming each other until your lips were bruised and you had to break away, breathless and panting.

“I’m so glad you're alive,” you smiled, trying not to let tears well up in the corners of your eyes. “You came back to me. You’re amazing, you know that? What you can survive.”

His chest puffed out a little. He was amazing, wasn’t he? But when he spoke again, it was sullen.

“I did not want you to see what a monster I’ve become.”

You shook your head. “You’re still beautiful. Absolutely perfect. I’m sorry it happened, but you know I’m going to love you no matter what…” You trailed off as a word snagged in your throat. Did you just say…

“You love me?”

Dry. Your throat suddenly felt drier than sandpaper, and swallowing didn’t fix it. You weren’t supposed to admit that to him. He was going to tease you, to twist it around somehow to use against you—

“I love you, too.”

[yootaesowlwrites]

Requested By: Ferrari_Babe

Request: Could I have this one and b21 with Seb V please! Thank you! Xx

Prompts: B18*- “Can You Feel What You’re Doing To Me?” & B21*- “I Want To Watch You Fall Apart.”

A/N: idk why, but I always picture a home office with a plush white carpet, I don’t know why, but yeah, 

Warnings: Smut, Mention of being nude, Boob play, nipple play, slight teasing, mention of being choked, mention of being marked, explicit language, clit play, fingering, finger sucking, handjob, unprotected sex (be safe, use protection). slight bruising, slight scratching.

Word Count: 3K

【 • Primary Masterlist • Drivers Masterlist • Sebastian Vettel Masterlist • Fan Fiction Masterlist • 】

【 • Prompt List • Smut Prompt List • Scenario Prompt List • Alternate Universe Prompt List • 】

【 • List Of Characters & Drivers I Write For • Rules & Request • 】

Sebastian sat in his office sorting through his emails about new sponsors and old sponsor renewals, it was already late in the evening and he should have left his office an hour earlier but the emails kept filling up, he quickly grew frustrated with them as some upset him and others were just plain junk mail, (Y/n) had become inpatient while waiting for him and was now making her way to his office to see what was taking so long, she wanted to cuddle up to him and feel his warm body against her as they laid in comfortable silence as they drifted away, but now she was on a mission to gain his attention and had removed her sleepwear and replaced it with one of his t-shirts and a pear of lace thongs, she had become needy for his attention while waiting for him, she stops in front of the office door and lightly knocks on it before opening the door and stepping inside, his head never moving away from the screen which caused her bottom lip to pop out as she pouted, she quickly composed herself and closed the door behind her, locking it in the process to be sure none of their children would walk in on them before making her way towards the tuxedo shaped sofa in his office.

“Hey.” (Y/n) softly says, quickly noting that he didn’t look away from the computer screen, her eyes moved over his face and quickly saw his brows were furrowed and his lips were in a straight line as he was frowning at something he was reading.

“Hey,” Sebastian mutters before taking in a deep breath and blowing it out. “Sorry, this is taking so long.”

“No, it’s okay.” (Y/n) says as she sits down on the couch, spreading her legs just a little and placed her hands on her exposed knees, feeling her soft warm skin underneath her touch. “I was just getting a little curious.” She slowly moves her hands up her thighs as she leans back against the sofa, her legs opening a little more as her hands go higher. “A little lonely.” Her hands begin lifting the shirt she wore. “A little needy.” Sebastian looks away from the screen to glance in her direction before looking back at his screen only to look back at her as his eyes widen, her legs were wide enough for him to see a piece from the dark red lace thong she wore, her hands move over her shirt. “For attention.” Her words coming out in a purr, her hands stop at her breasts as Sebastian’s eyes were glued to her, the emails instantly forgotten as her hands rubbed her breasts through the shirt, causing her nipples to hard as the rough fabric rubbed against them, one hand moved up her neck as she watched him shift in his chair as he swallowed, her fingers stopped at her lips. “Needy for your big cock.” She slips three fingers into her mouth and starts sucking on them, he could see her tongue moving around her fingers and he was left to imagine it was his cock in her mouth. “Mhm.” He could feel his cock twitch as he watched her, he shifted in his chair and placed on hand on top of his growing cock and begun palming himself through his jeans, if only he had realized how needy she was for his attention he would’ve gone through his emails the following day and spent the night pleasuring her, her other hand cupped her boob and started massaging it.

“Mhm.” The image of her being a moaning mess with his cock in her mouth flashed through his mind, causing him to shift more in his chair as he watched her, saliva escaped her mouth and slowly slid down her chin. “Mhm. “ Her other hand moved underneath her shirt and instantly went to her boob, running her fingers over her erect nipple, he could see her fingers working on her nipple even with the shirt she wore. “Mhm.” She pulls her fingers from her mouth, he could see the saliva almost dripping from her fingers. “Oh.” She reached for the hem of the shirt and lifted it upwards to expose her chest as she placed with her nipple, he could see her nipple swelling as she toyed with the sensitive bud, he licked his lips as he pushed his chair away from his desk, she moves her hand away from her boob and quickly discarded the shirt she wore. “I’m so needy for your attention, Seb, I wanna feel your lips on my skin, your fingers inside me.” Sebastian stood from his chair giving her a perfect view of the bulge pressed against his jeans as it formed a tent. “For you to leave marks on my skin, marking me as your own.” She took her bottom lip between her teeth as one hand slides down her body and slipped her hand into her lace thong, he could see where her fingers were as she spread her legs wider.  “Oh, Seb.” She lipped two fingers into her folds and felt how wet she had grown by just teasing him, she pulls her hand out from her thong and showed him her glistening fingers.

“Look what you’re doing to me.” She breathes out, Sebastian strides towards and stopped in front of her which made her sit up straight on the sofa, she reached for his jeans and undoes the button and unzips the zipper before she carefully pushed his jeans down his legs, leaning forward the completely push them down his legs her breasts pressed together.

“Mhm, you are such a damn tease,” Sebastian says causing a devious smirk to tug at the corner of her lips as she looked up at him, he could see the lust in her eyes along with the hunger for him to touch her, he steps out from his jeans and used his foot to push them aside, mentally thanking himself that he had removed his shoes earlier when he had made his way to the office, he lowers down to his knees in front of her and placed his hands on her knees. “I think you’ve teased me enough.”

“I wouldn’t say I have.” (Y/n) says, he could feel her warm skin underneath his touch as his hands move up her thighs, she throws her head back as his hand's inch closer to her pussy, he moves between her legs to keep her from closing them as his fingers curl around the lace fabric, she lifts her hips from the sofa letting him pull her things down, once the fabric reached her knees she lowered her hips and lifted her feet letting him remove them completely, his eyes fall on her wet pussy as he tossed the thong aside.

“You’re so damn wet already.” Sebastian states as he placed a hand on her mound before slowly moving his hand lower and lower until his fingers covered her folds, he slips a finger between her folds and felt his finger becoming wet with her juices, his finger slowly circled around her swollen clit.

“Can you feel what you’re doing me, Seb?” (Y/n) whispers seductively. “Oh, I’m so wet because of you, I’m so wet for you, baby.” She could feel a faint twist in her abdomen as he toyed with her clit, his finger moved back and forth over her sensitive nub which caused her breathing to become heavy, her hands went to her heads and fingers gripped her hair in pleasure, he felt his cock twitch as he thought about what he could do to her, where he could pleasure her the most and when he would do it. “Oh.” Her mouth parts as her chests heaves up and down as she took in deep and heavy breaths, his finger inched closer to her slit before sliding two more fingers between her folds, they instantly become coated her wetness as they circled around her slit. “Mhm.” His fingers slip into her slit and curls once they were inside her. “OH!” His fingers brushing against her sensitive spot which caused a smirk to tug at the corner of his lips as he watched her body respond to his touch.

“I love it when your body responds to me like this,” Sebastian says in a husky tone, his fingers thrust in and out of her slit, curing his fingers each time he thrusts them in, her skin felt on fore as the air surrounding them became thick with warmth, tension building in her lower abdomen as his fingers pleasured her. “Look at me, Liebling.” He could feel her walls clenching around his fingers, she lifts her head to look at him as her hands move away from her hair and form a fist as she placed them on the sofa, her eyes wanted to roll to the back of her head in pleasure. “Keep looking at me, I want to watch you fall apart.”

“OH!” (Y/n) moans as her muscles contracted, heat ran up her legs as her toes curl in pleasure. “OH!” Her body began to quiver with pleasure.

“Mhm, look at how you’re losing control, so beautiful,” Sebastian says, the tone of his voice driving her closer to her release each time he spoke, his thumb brushed over her thumb causing her mind to become clouded with pleasure as the only thing she could focus on was the pleasure he was causing her, she wanted to throw her head back in euphoria but kept her eyes on him as she felt the tension that had been building up in her abdomen break and pleasure washed over her as she released around his fingers.

“SEBASTIAN!” (Y/n) screams as she throws her head back. “SEB!” He could feel her wetness spilling onto his hand and dripping down onto the sofa.

“Look at me,” Sebastian demands, she lifts her head to look at him, struggling to obey his order, the only thing she wanted to do right now was throw her head back and close her eyes and feel the pleasure running through her veins. “Breathtakingly gorgeous.” He slowly pulls his fingers from her slit, her toes uncurl and her hands relax as her eyes fall down to his fingers as he lifted them, she could see them glistening with her wetness. “Look at the mess you created, I think you should it up, Liebes.” He brought his hand closer to her lips, pressing his fingers against her lips. “Open up.” Her lips part as she moves her gaze to his as he stared at her, her lips wrap around his fingers and swiped her tongue over his fingers. “Such a good girl.” She could feel her clit twitch at his praise, he pulls his fingers away from her mouth and quickly discarded his own shirt, he reached for her hand. “Come here.” He pulls her from the couch and on top of him as he lays down on the soft carpet in his office, she giggles as she lands on top of him, she placed her hands on his shoulders and leans down to kiss him, their lips brush against each other.

“Mhm.” (Y/n) hums into his mouth as she felt his hard cock rub against the inside of her thigh, she was the one to break the kiss as she started to climb off from him, her gaze fell to his underwear that still clung to his hips, she could see a slight wet patch on the grey underwear he wore from the leaking pre-cum, she reached for his underwear and curled her fingers around his underwear, her knuckles brushing against his skin which sent a shiver up his spine as she carefully removes his underwear, she tosses it over her shoulder and he props himself up on his elbows to watch her, her hands wrap around the base of his cock and slowly moved her hand up his hard cock, before swiping her thumb over his tip, spreading the dripping pre-cum over his cock, her hand twisted around his cock before moving her hand up and down.

“Oh.” Sebastian breathes out as his lips parts, he lowers himself down to the floor as his mind concentrated on the pleasure she was causing him. “Scheiße.” His eyes closing as they roll to the back of his head in pleasure, her other hand cupped his balls and gently started playing with them, her fingers softly running over them. “Fuck, darling.” The sensation driving him crazy as he felt himself edging closer to his release, he could feel his muscles tightening as heat ran up his spine, her hand continued moving up and down his shaft, while her other hand played with his sensitive balls, the immense pleasure he was experiencing was unexplainable. “I need to be inside you.” His breathing became short, a layer of sweat covered both their skin as the air surrounding them became thicker and warmer, she unwraps her hand from his cock and straddled him once again, he could feel her moist pussy inches away from his throbbing cock, she placed one hand on his chest while her other hand wrapped around his cock and slipped him between her folds, coating his cock with her wetness before moving him to her slit, she lowers herself down onto his cock, her mouth falling open as she felt him entering her.

“Oh, go-“ (Y/n) gasps as she unwraps her hand from his cock and placed it on his chest also, he placed his hands on her hips and dug his fingers into her skin before pushing her down onto his cock, the filling feeling causing her to moan loudly. “Fu- ah- ck.” The feeling of his cock filling her felt indescribably delightful, his hands moved from her hips to her shoulders and pulled her down against his chest, his cock shifts inside her and added to the pleasure she was experiencing. “Oh.” He turns them around and moved his hands to the carpet as he shifts on top of her, his arms extending as he pushed himself upwards, he slowly pulls his cock from her before thrusting into her, she could feel each vein o his cock as he thrusts into her. “Mhm.” The sound of her wetness and their breathing filled the room.

“Fuck.” Sebastian breathes out as the feeling of her warm wet walls enveloped around him drove him inside, the pure delight of her walls clenching around his cock ran through his veins, tension quickly built inside (Y/n) as pleasure ran through her.

“Faster.” (Y/n) cries out, almost instantaneously his thrusts became faster and rougher. “Fuck yes, oh, oh.” Her mind focused on the constant pleasure she received, nothing else mattered at the moment as her hands moved from his shoulders to his shoulder blades, her nails dug into his skin as the sounds that filled the room sounded so unholy.

“You feel so fucking good around me.” Sebastian groans out, the feeling of her nails digging into his skin added to the pleasure, he could feel her walls clenching around him as she milked him for an orgasm, his cock twitched inside her he neared his euphoric high, his mind could only focus on the pleasure running through him and the feeling of her nails breaking his skin assured him that (Y/n) was experiencing the same amount of pleasure, if not more.

“Oh, ah, mhm.” (Y/n) lets out a breathy moan. “Fuck.”

“Mhm, so vulnerable, so beautiful,” Sebastian mutters, she moves her a hand away from his shoulder and moved it between them, she took her throbbing clit between her fingers.

“FUCK!” (Y/n) moans loudly as the pleasurable sensation ran through her veins, she could feel heat running up her legs as her muscles contracted, Sebastian’s cock pulsed inside her as he neared his high.

“Fuck, baby.” Sebastian groans out as he cums inside her, filling her with his load, she rolls her clit between her fingers and curled her toes as her nails dug deep into his skin, pleasure shot up her spine and the tension in her abdomen broke as her body began to quiver.

“SEB!” (Y/n) screams as she released herself around his cock, his thrusts became irregular while she moved her fingers away from her clit, her mind clouded with the pleasure, he slowly came to a halt as he buried himself deep inside her, their breathing being the only sound remaining in the room, her hand fall away from his shoulder as it became silent between them for a few minutes as they caught their breath.

“Next time when you’re this needy, just give me a heads up or sent me a text,” Sebastian says as he carefully pulls himself out from her.

“And where would the fun be in that if I give you a heads up?” (Y/n) asks, her eyes move to his shoulders and saw the marks she had left. “Ugh, I might’ve bruised your body.” Sebastian climbed off from her and reached for his shoulder, he could feel the bruised skin.

“At least I know I’m doing my job properly,” Sebastian says, they stood from the floor, her legs still feeling numb from the orgasms. “Hey, hey, sit down.” He carefully helps her to sit down on the couch. “I’m that good, huh?”

“Oh, shut it.” (Y/n) says, he picks up the shirt she had worn when she entered his office. “I hope we didn’t wake the kids.”

“You know them, once they’re asleep, they’re out like a light,” Sebastian says as she took the shirt from his grasp.

“Mhm, we were pretty loud.” (Y/n) mutters.

“And far away from their bedrooms,” Sebastian says as she pulls the shirt over her head. “Shower?” A soft smile appeared on her lips.

“You have the energy to shower?” (Y/n) asks causing Sebastian to chuckle as he picked up his underwear.

“We can have a relaxing bath as well, just thought maybe a shower would be quicker,” Sebastian says, (Y/n) nods her head.

“Yeah, maybe we should take a shower.”

[simsadventures]

Only Mine: Chapter 9: Spending the Night

Summary: You spend the night at Bucky’s mansion. While the night is full of passion and feelings, the next morning isn’t as great as you or Bucky would hope for.

Warnings: so much fluff, like I can’t, smut (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THE PART BETWEEN WARNINGS, you know the drill), more fluff, teeny tiny bits of angst, swearing

Word Count: 5383

A/N: I know I haven’t updated in a while, and for that reason, I’ve decided to make this chapter extra long, you know, to make it up to you all. Hope you’ll enjoy this domestic-bliss-kind-of chapter, and let me know what you thought! Feedback is always appreciated :) xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole night. Ever since he brought you to his home, he was nervous. Or maybe he just feared you wouldn’t like it there and you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. And he couldn’t bear the thought of that. So, every time you laughed or smiled at something, he showed you in the house, a small smile appeared on his face as well.

When he asked Magda when the food will be ready, she answered him happily, raising an eyebrow at him, showing thumbs up nonchalantly. Bucky shook his head and kissed her cheek. She has been with his family for a long time, and because his parents were long gone, he saw Magda as a mother figure. And although she couldn’t pester him as much as she’d like sometimes, she still could yell pretty loudly. And at those moments, Bucky felt like 10-year old again. It always took him good 5 minutes before he realised that he no longer had to be sorry for what he did.

But that was one of Magda’s talents- always making him feel sad if he had disappointed her, or done something to have sadden her. So her being supportive of you in the house made him hopeful.

Everything seemed good and dandy, but then something switched inside you. It was a small detail, and if Bucky didn’t spend as much time with you as he did, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. But it was the way your shoulders slouched a little, the small pout appearing on your beautiful mouth, and the wrinkle right above your nose- barely visible, but still there.

It was right after you met Bob and Brock. He knew that the two men looked dangerous and not really as friendly as Sam and Steve, but they always did what Bucky wanted and never complained. He could see the way their eyes roamed your body, and he would have a serious talk with them tomorrow, but he knew they were harmless. At least to you.

It was only after dinner that he saw you relax a little. He had to fight himself the whole evening not to drag you into the first empty room/closet, whatever, and fuck you senseless. He was almost drooling every time he looked at you for more than 2 seconds. He couldn’t believe his luck in attaining you.

The dress left little to the imagination, but Bucky still wanted to see you out of it. And when you whispered to him that you wanted him to show you who you belonged to, he lost it. Bucky felt dizzy and elated at the same time, thinking about finally having you after such a long day.

His hands roamed your body, caressing every inch of your exposed skin. But he wanted to feel more. He bid you sit up, and when you did his fingers immediately found the zipper on the backside of your dress. He nipped at your jaw and collarbone and slid the dress, torturously slowly down your shoulders.

The view that suddenly appeared in front of him left him speechless. He thought that the best thing was your dress, but what was hidden behind them left his cock straining against his pants painfully.

You laid back on the mattress, letting Bucky pull the dress off of you completely, and you bit your index finger seductively. But could have creamed his pants then and there. You literally looked like his wet dream.

Red flimsy lingerie, which was barely there because he could very much see your perky nipples and could also make out the slit on your pussy. He groaned out loud, wanting nothing more than to rip it off of you. But, at the same time, he wanted to see this set on you again, so he had to be careful. He just didn’t know how long he could keep this carefulness on his mind, while you were looking like a goddess of sex.

He knew you could see the look on his face, the look that was saying how much he actually enjoyed seeing you in your attire, and how much he enjoyed being with you in general. But he didn’t care. Because for the first time in his life, he felt like he could actually trust you with everything. With his own life, if necessary.

Something woke him from his thoughts, and he realised you were still on his bed, but now you weren’t laying on it but kneeling.

“Changed your mind and now you want to lay back and talk? We can do that, James, if you want to,” you said, still smiling, but unlike a few seconds, when you were the seductress herself, this smile was full of warmth.

“I just thought about how lucky I was to have stumbled upon you, my dear. And you’re proving my point right now. And even though I love talking to you, there are one or two things I can think of that I’d do rather than talking.”

Warning: smut starting

He was smirking as he said it and you giggled, but cocked your brow and let your hand slip under his shirt. You could feel the muscles of his abdomen constricting under your touch, and you could see that Bucky’s eyes got darker with lust once again.

You didn’t know how, but in a blink of an eye, you were laying on your back again, your thighs falling apart, giving Bucky the access he so desperately wanted. He all but jumped at you and when his lips touched yours, you were a puddle in his arms. The kiss was slow and sensual, no rushing anywhere. Your tongues danced together in a passionate dance, letting each other know just how much you appreciated the closeness you shared.

Bucky’s still clothed lower half was rutting against you, giving you a sweet pressure on your clit even through so many layers. You moaned silently into Bucky’s mouth, and he smirked. He all but thrust his hips into yours, and the pressure almost arose you from the bed. You were squirming under him, trying to both get away from him and get more of the pressure.

“James, stop teasing me,” you said breathlessly when he started to nip at your jaw and your neck, still very much clothed. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. And judging from the slow motions Bucky had you knew you had to take matters into your own hands.

You tugged on the hem of his shirt with so much fervour Bucky had little left to do than to actually strip out of it. He was sure that if he didn’t do it, you would rip the shirt open just to feel his chest. The thought made him both snicker and be more turned on than he already way.

When his naked chest touched your barely clothed nipples, you moaned out loud. The little friction the bra offered was soon gone as Bucky wanted to repay the deeds and he pulled the bra away from your breasts, latching his mouth on one of them, while his fingers played with the other. He alternated between sucking and biting, leaving you a moaning mess underneath him.

You barely realised that you were in a house full of men at the moment and that there was a possibility of them hearing every sound leaving your mouth, but as you felt Bucky descending down your body, leaving a wet trail behind him, you lost all interest on the rest of the house.

There was only then and there, with Bucky having his way with you.

Bucky could get enough of the sounds you were making, just for him. He’s never been the guy to take too much time in pleasuring women. Sure, he did it, but he was more interested in the girl going down on him. But with you? Oh, that was an entirely another story. He loved the taste of your skin, and if he could, he would always be tasting you, day and night.

When he reached your panties, he smiled to himself. This was the best part. He connected his mouth with your clit through the fabric, nibbling lightly sending shivers down your spine. He pushed your legs even wider apart to give himself the space he needed to make you feel like a queen. Because that’s exactly what you were; his queen.

When he thought you had enough of his teasing, he pulled the red beauty down your legs, revealing his favourite place on Earth. Your pussy was glistening with your wetness, almost calling for Bucky to take it. And he did.

He dived right in, tasting you and moaning when he did. He giggled a little when he felt your back arching from the bed and your legs spasming a little. The vibration obviously making you feel even better because a string of curses left your lips.

Bucky alternated between sucking on your clit and penetrating you with his tongue, going as deep as he could. To make you orgasm faster, he pushed two of his fingers inside you in one thrust. He knew you were wet enough to take his cock, but he wanted to climax before he even slid inside you.

Scissoring his fingers, he opened you up even more, and when he slid knuckles deep, he could hear you taking in the ragged breath, telling him that he reached the blessed spot. He latched on your clit, pulsing his fingers in and out of you until he felt your legs squeezing him between your legs and the release slowly trickling around his fingers. He pulled them out and pushed your legs up and to your chest, diving in your hole once again, eating out of you like you were the most delicious meal Bucky’s ever had.

He flickered your clit just for the fun of it and saw you trying to get away from his touch. He kissed your pussy before he made his way upwards to kiss you properly. You were still breathing heavily from the cosmic orgasm he has given you.

You tried to reach his pants and tried to push yourself up to repay the favour, but Bucky pushed you back gently, shaking his head and smirking at you.

“As much as I love you sucking me off, doll, all I need right now is to be inside you and fuck you to sleep.”

Before you could protest, Bucky was standing naked in front of you. His cock standing proudly against his abdomen, telling you that he enjoyed his latest activity almost as much as you did.

You naturally thought that Bucky would lay on top of you, finally sliding home, but he surprised you by laying next to you, on his back.

“I want you to ride me, Y/N.”

You smiled brightly because you knew how difficult it was for Bucky to give up control, and you riding him was making him powerless, he told you once. And you wanted it so bad you didn’t even comment on this fact, but you straddled his lap quickly before he changed his mind.

Before you grabbed his cock, you kissed him, sweetly and slowly, trying to show him that he didn’t need to be afraid of anything. Not with you.

You pumped him in your hand a few times before you took him tightly in your hand and lined him up with your entrance. You let the tip of his cock slid back and forth, touching your clit in the process. You both moaned, and before Bucky knew what was happening, you let him slip right inside you helping it with sitting slowly down on him.

This time, Bucky moaned much louder, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. You pressed your hands on his chest for support, and after you felt your pussy unclenching around him, you started to move. You alternated between up-and-down movement and slow circles, grinding against his pelvic bone, giving your clit the needed attention.

To your surprise, Bucky moved underneath you, and for a hot second, you thought he would turn the two of you so that he could take you the way he liked the most. But he only sat up, looking you deep in the eye as he did so, kissing you breathless. The kiss was sensual, making your skin tingle with excitement.

While you were sitting down on his dick, he thrust up, and you moaned into his ear. Bucky grabbed your waist for leverage, and the dance of your thrusts started. It was the most intimate moment you have ever had with Bucky, and you couldn’t get enough. You looked into his hooded eyes, and you saw the adoration swimming there. And that was your undoing.

You took in a breath, closing your eyes and bitting Bucky’s shoulder, your pussy spasming and clenching Bucky’s cock, trying to milk him of all he had to give you.

Bucky followed you soon after, not being able to handle your tight, velvety pussy any longer. He came with a grunt, frowning in the process, but a blissful look appearing on his face seconds later.

You could feel his come prickling out of you, but you couldn’t care less. Bucky grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, kissing you sweetly.

He laid you both down, his softening cock still inside you. You hummed as you closed your eyes, snuggling closer to Bucky.

Warning ending.

“Thank you for showing me this place, James. It’s gorgeous, and I enjoyed myself tonight.”

He kissed your closed eyelids, resting his head on top of yours. He was overjoyed that he made you happy by showing you his home. He was glad you didn’t turn around and sprint out of there, knowing there was a dungeon in his house, or because you met his childish friends. You both fell asleep like that, limbs intertwined, breathing in each other’s scent, happy as can be.

—-

You woke up, feeling sated and happy, but only until you realised that you were slightly cold as well. The kind of coldness that told you that you were in bed alone. You opened your eyes quickly, blinked few times trying to take in the room you were at. At first, a shock ran through you, because you didn’t recognise it, but then you sleepy brain kicked in, and you realised that you were in Bucky’s mansion.

You smiled to yourself, pictures of last night playing in your head. But then you frowned because the cold sheets were proof enough that you were indeed alone in the room. You sighed and got up, even though you wanted nothing more than to snuggle back into the sheets and fall asleep again. You grabbed your bag and put on the clothes you brought from your apartment. You quickly washed your face and brushed your teeth, tried to make something with your ruffled hair and the only option there was to put them in a messy high bun.

You then decided to go and find Bucky. You knew which quarters you were definitely not stepping your foot in, and so there was only one place you could go and look for him.

You descended the stairs, going straight to the kitchen. It was still quite early in the morning, and so you were not surprised that you found only Magda in there. She probably heard you coming in, and she turned around to give you a warm smile.

“Good morning, Miss Y/L/N. Slept well? What can I make you for breakfast?”

You returned the smile and stepped inside the kitchen. “Good morning, Magda. Please, call me Y/N, I would hate to be so formal with you.”

She nodded and put her hands in front of her, waiting for you to tell her what he should make you.

“Oh, and I’m actually not that hungry, I’m just looking for Bucky. I woke up, and he wasn’t there,” you said in a hushed voice.

“James is in the gym with Samuel and Steven. But I think you should eat something, my dear. Good breakfast is the best way to start a day.”

“Have Bucky already had his? I thought we could eat together, actually.” You were now blushing, feeling like you were acting like a silly teenager, wanting to eat with your beloved. Jesus. You had to roll your eyes at yourself inwardly.

She chuckled and stepped closer to you. She put a hand on your shoulder, and it made you look up at her.

“He hasn’t, actually. I think he will be glad if you go and fetch him, sweetheart. And before you go, I know it’s not my place, but I want to tell you that ever since he met you, he’s a changed man. I’ve known him since he was a wee little brat, and so you can trust me when I say you make him a better man. He will probably always be the mobster his father taught him to be, but I can see his edges growing a little softer, in the best way possible. So, whatever you’re doing, don’t stop, please.”

Your vision blurred slightly, and you realised tears were almost spilling out of your eyes. You didn’t have any reply to Magda, so you just pulled her into a hug and held her for the longest time. You could see she cared deeply for Bucky, and her telling you all that, that was a big thing, and you were immensely thankful to her.

“Thank you, Magda, it means more than you’ll ever know!”

“Oh, no tears, my dear! Pretty girls like you shouldn’t cry over some silly words of an old shag like myself! Please! Now go and get the boys, I’ll prepare something yummy for all of you!”

She patted your shoulder affectionately and sent you on your way.

You went down the corridor, revelling in the feeling of being good for Bucky. When you reached the gym, you stopped in your tracks. All three men were punching huge punching bags, all three of them shirtless. But you were sure that even if there was Adonis himself, shirtless, your eyes would still find Bucky and wouldn’t let him out of your sight.

You knew that body like the back of your hand, and still, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Your mind wandered back to the night before, only for a gruff voice to end your daydream.

“Enjoying the show?” Someone said from behind you, and when you turned around, your stomach dropped. It was one of the guys from yesterday. Brock. He had that sly smirk on his face again, and you truly wished you could wipe it off somehow.

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” You said curtly and turned around to watch Bucky’s muscles clench and unclench as he trained, still unaware of your presence.

“I bet I could give you a better show. What do you say? How about we get lost for a bit, and I’ll give you the ride of your life?”

You frowned and crossed your arms on your chest.

“Excuse me? You’re really not getting it, are you? I’m not interested, nor will I ever be. Even if I wasn’t dating your fucking boss, I wouldn’t want “the ride of my life” with you, asshole. So how ’bout you mind your own fucking business, and leave me be?”

You scoffed and tried to turn around, only for a hand to stop you, landing on your shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“You’re just another pussy, sweetheart, and you’d be stupid to think the boss will keep you around for long. You might have survived the month, but he’ll get tired of you soon enough. And you’ll come begging me for what I’m offering, you b-“

“Rumlow!” Bucky’s voice boomed through the gym. Brock’s hand immediately left your body, and his body turned rigid. Even though he tried to hide it, you could see that he was indeed afraid of Bucky. Suit him well, you thought to yourself and took a step from him.

“The hell is happening here?”

“We were just talking, boss, nothing else,” Brock said, and you had to roll your eyes.

“Uh-huh. Go and train before I fucking scrape your eyes out for even looking at her.” Bucky growled as he got closer, and Brock didn’t wait for anything else and ran into the gym, not daring to look around.

You smiled and looked at Bucky, who was now scowling at you.

“And what the hell are you doing here? Why aren’t you in the bedroom? Huh?”

Your brows shot to your hairline. He might have been a fucking mafia boss, but you weren’t one of his men.

“Don’t you take this tone with me, James!” You said taking a step towards him. You could see confusion written all over his face over the fact that you weren’t afraid of him. Not even a little. “I woke up alone, in your house, and I went to look for my man. I bumped into Magda who told me to get you all for breakfast because, apparently, you went to train without eating anything. So I came here and watched you for a second before that asshole started talking to me. So, the blame’s on you. If you wanted me to stay in your room, you shouldn’t have left me there, all alone.” You scoffed and walked away.

Truth be said, Brock’s words still played in your head. What if he was right? What if you were just another pussy to Bucky, and he would throw you away the second he saw someone more interesting, or prettier, or skinnier, or whatever.

When you walked in the kitchen, you saw that the adjoining room was a dining room, so without a word to Magda, who was now frowning at your sad face, you went and sat to the table.

Bucky watched you leave, hating himself for even thinking to be mad at you. It really wasn’t your fault, and he could see that the conversation between you and Rumlow was very one-sided. Bucky saw very well that you weren’t feeling comfortable around Rumlow, and he made a mental note to keep an eye on his man. Nobody would make you feel less, and definitely not someone Bucky expected to protect you if he couldn’t.

“Sam, Steve, c’mon. Magda’s making breakfast, training’s over,” Bucky yelled at his friends, but didn’t wait to see if they heard him or if they followed him. He strode towards the kitchen, ready to apologise to you.

But before he could do so, a hand slapping his chest stopped him.

“What did you do to that poor girl? She went to the gym all happy and giddy to see you, and she came back looking like someone punched her in the face. What did you do, boy?” Magda had her hands on her waist, looking like the God of revenge.

“You know me, I’m an ass. But Imma apologise to her, I promise. Just let me go, and I make it better.”  

Magda nodded curtly and let Bucky walk around her to go to you. And true to Magda’s words, you really looked like someone took your favourite toy.

“Doll, I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t mean it, but when I saw you and Rumlow together there, I kind of lost it. You’re mine and I-“

“Am I? Am I yours, Bucky? Maybe right now, sure. But for how long? When are you gonna realise that I’m not enough and you’ll dump me just like you did with all those girls before?”

You weren’t crying, but Bucky saw that you weren’t far from it. He could hear Steve and Sam coming into the room, and he turned away to gesture to them that they needed to leave the room. Immediately. They both looked confused at Bucky but followed his orders nevertheless.

“Where is this coming from, Y/N? I thought you knew you weren’t like any of those girls. Not for me, anyway. I thought we were in a good place, baby, so, what happened, huh?”

His tone was much softer than when he talked to you in the gym, and the first tear slipped out of your eye and rolled down your cheek.

“It’s just that, I like you Bucky. Like a lot. And I don’t even want to imagine not having you by my side. But you never really were into long-term relationships, and I’m terrified of the moment you’ll realise this is not something you want. That you want to be free again, or that you want to have a girl who won’t make scenes when she’s and at you, or-“

Bucky’s hand on your mouth stopped you from talking. You were now fully crying and sobbing, all the thoughts you repressed some time ago resurfacing again, just because of one asshole.

“I really don’t know where this is coming from, but let me tell you one thing. Yeah, I don’t do relationships. But ever since I met you I want nothing else than to be with you non-stop. I don’t want freedom. Fuck freedom. I want you, with all your scenes, and crying watching rom-coms, and giggling when I say something stupid. I want it all, ok? I’m sorry that I’m not showing you enough just how much I care about you. I will, I promise I’ll tell you every day just how much you mean to me. Just please, please, baby, don’t cry and for the love of God, don’t leave me.”

You looked at the man kneeling in front of you, and you couldn’t help but feel bad about your outburst. You never meant to make him feel bad, and you definitely didn’t want him to think that you were going anywhere.

You hugged him, letting your fingers slid into his fluffy hair.

“I’m not going anywhere, James. I promise that as long as you want me here, I’ll be right here. I’m just worried you won’t want me here after a while.”

Bucky kissed you, desperate that you’d think he would ever let you go.

“Well, bad news, love. You’re stuck with me for a long time, then. ‘Cause I’m not letting you leave. I think you’ll beg me soon, but nope. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s a promise, ok? Will you finally tell me how did the thought even enter your mind today?”

You looked down, blushing and disappointed you let someone like Brock Rumlow enter your mind and let you be hysterical over something that was obviously not happening.

“When Rumlow talked to me, he said something about how I’m just another pussy and that you’ll get rid of me soon enough, and my stupid self overreacted. I’m sorry, James. I shouldn’t be so stupid.”

Bucky shook his head and tried to stay as calm as he could. He wanted to reassure you that he wasn’t going to leave you, and after that was done, he would kill Rumlow. Who did he think he was talking shit to you?

You laid your hand on his cheek, and he instinctively leaned into your touch. Bucky had no idea how you did that, some hidden talent, or superpower, or something like that, but every time you touched him, he calmed down, and all he focused on was you.

“How about we won’t let him ruin more of our day than he already has? Let’s have breakfast with the boys, who I’m sure are in the next room, listening intently to what we’re saying. And then we’ll see, huh?”

After the comment with Sam and Steve, the two of them walked into the room, smiling and winking at you.

Magda brought the breakfast a few seconds later, all the men taking their place beside the table. Magda made a little out of everything. There were avocado toasts, bacon and eggs, granola, yoghurt, and a whole bowl of fruits.

When all of you put the food on your plates, the bickering started.

“So, Y/N, tell us. Is he really as good in bed as he pretends to be?” Sam asked with a smirk, putting bacon in his mouth.

You almost choked on a piece of granola because of him, trying to laugh him off, but he was pretty adamant.

“How about we didn’t talk about my sex life during breakfast, huh? I think there are better topics than that.” Bucky growled into his plate, and you put your hand on his thigh, reassuring him that you were just fine.

Unlike with Brock, Sam and Steve were a lovable duo, and you enjoyed spending the morning with them, listening to stories about Bucky when they were younger.

When you all finished eating, Steve turned to you. “Did Bucky show you the back yard of this place? It’s insane!”

You gasped and hit Bucky playfully. “No! No, he didn’t.” You turned to Bucky with a raised brow. “Care to show me this insanity, good sir?”

Bucky snickered at the name and stood up, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“Look at him, Steve. Our boy is all grown up now. Holding hands and all.” Sam hollered, and it earned him a jab to his ribs from Bucky and a playful slap across the top of his head from Steve. You all laughed and walked towards the huge French windows leading towards the backyard.

When you stepped in, your breath hitched in your throat. It was beautiful. You would bet that it was as big as any gold course, with a little woods in one corner, small lake right next to it. You could also see the enormous swimming pool on the left side of the property. Everything was a little wild, but oh so pretty.

What you could also see where two dogs running to you. One of them looked like a Pit Bull terrier, with brown and white spots. The other was slightly smaller, but you guessed also a Pit Bull, just the brown of his fur was lighter than the other one. You have always loved dogs, so you took a step to get closer to them, but Bucky’s hand stopped you.

“They are not too fond of strangers, Y/N. If I were you I would-“

But you didn’t listen to him and took the step anyway, and in that exact moment, the dogs were in front of you. They were both barking, but it didn’t make you fear them.

“Hi, pretty boys. Are you good doggos, huh? Who’s a good boy?” You asked in your sweetest voice, which you only ever used for dogs and cats.

To the boys’ utter surprise, the dogs started wiggling their tails, whining and the ran to you to lick your hands and let you scratch them all over.

You crouched to their level, letting them lick your face, and you giggled out loud when they bumped into each other, trying to get closer to you.

“Uh, unbelievable. You some dog whisperer or something? They won’t even let us touch them this way,” Sam said, obviously confused.

“What are their names?” You asked still, scratching them.

“The bigger one is Groot, and the smaller but scarier is Rocket. They are something like our guard dogs.” Bucky almost whispered, still not over the fact his scary dogs were acting like puppies around you, showing you their bellies and wiggling their tails like crazy.

“Well, hi Groot, hi, Rocket! I already love you both! C’mon, let’s find a stick I can fetch you, huh?” You said, and without looking at Bucky, you walked into the backyard, with the dogs following you as if they have been doing it their whole lives.

“Well, Y/N is something else. Hell, even I don’t have enough courage to pet them, man, and I’ve known them since they were puppies.” Steve thought out loud, and Sam and Bucky couldn’t but agree.

Bucky watched you smiling freely, enjoying yourself with his dogs, throwing the stick, and when the dogs wouldn’t move, you ran towards the stick and showed them what you wanted them to do.

“She really is something else, man.” Bucky mused, a smile appearing on his face.

/Next Chapter >

Only Mine: @albinotigerpython​ @brownlee-22​ @yennewolf @heywess @bitchwhytho​ @thegirlwhowritesfics​ @eteramfools​ @blonddnamedhandz​ @everything-is-awesomesauce​ @justlovelifeblog​ @scuzmunkie​ @rohaintahquil​ @d-jall​ @cap-just-said-language​ @readermia​ @chubby-dumplin​ @slcvely @thewackywriter​ @mswinterfalcon​ @ieshaa96​ @calwitch​ @everythingisoverrated​ @maggyme13​ @sukeraa​ @new-romanticz1989​ @captainchrisstan​

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten @sebbbystaaan​ @paradisiacalsparks​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @owlyannah​ @lassini​ @s-trawberryv-eins​ @reniescarlett

Marvel Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @lumar014​ @ptrs-prkrs​

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone​ @sasbb23​ @p8tn0lish​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @waiting4inspiration​ @caswinchester2000​ @mogaruke​ @justthatfangirloverthere​

If your name is crossed out, tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason, I’m sorry.

If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical ones. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think.

[ghost-writing]

The Monster 1/?? - August Walker fanfic

This is a re-post from my other blog... I’ve decided to post my writing on a separate page, it’ll be easier to access like that. 

I’ve edited this a little, but there might still be some spelling mistakes & grammatical errors. (English is not my 1st language!) So, if you see something that irks you, please tell me! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART ONE: The Hammer and the Screw 

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Sex (unprotected), light smut, bit of swearing, and August Walker (the Kingstache deserves it’s own warning)

They had been working on that case together for about three weeks. Was it wasted time? Or was it a mistake to take him back to her apartment? Judging by how her skin was burning under his touch, how dizzy her head got from this passionate kiss, and how big and hard his cock felt through the fabric of his pants, she was leaning towards the former. But they were working together…

It was temporary, yes, but it could pose some problems during the investigation. She was generally very professional, prided herself of being detached enough without being totally glacial. (Well, except for those who did not deserve her attention.)

But that man did not leave her cold. Tall, muscular, very handsome, and also incredibly smart, always focused. The result of good genes, no doubt, many years of training, and his experience as a CIA agent. One of their best, nonetheless. Half these attributes would turn any woman to putty in his hands. Damn, she always considered herself no ordinary woman, but this time, she couldn’t help it. She didn’t even try to fight it.

Their kiss was stalling a little, like he was waiting for her to take the next step. “How respectful!”, she thought, sarcastically. Or was he having second thoughts? She had noticed the way he had looked at her since their first meeting: with respect (she had heard her boss singing her praises as she arrived), and a drop of lust. A drop that had now turned into a more than respectable erection. “Nah, he’s probably just testing me…” To see what she’d do, or what she’d ask him to do.

Well, she was never one to play coy, so she had two options: taking his clothes off, or her own. Every time she had spotted his gaze lingering on her curves, making him avert his eyes, she had returned it, as discretely as she could, trying to imagine what he looked like naked. She had kept imagining him, back at her place… So, she went for the buckle of his belt, and she lingered her hands a little on the front of his trousers, which had the effect she expected: he grabbed her ass with both hands, and kissed her even more feverishly, before whispering in her ear: “Hmm… You have no idea how much I need this, Frankie.” His growly voice made her quiver, creating a shock-wave that traveled up and down her spine, and she felt even hornier than she already was.

“Been a while, huh? Me too…” Her fingers were now fumbling with his zipper, but their bodies were too close to give her hands enough room to be efficient. “Fuck!”, she pestered, annoyed by her own clumsiness.

He chuckled. “Nervous? I would not have thought that of you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, CIA. I’m just a bit drunk.” And she ripped his shirt in frustration. Several buttons flew away and scattered on the floor of her living room. He grunted. Yanking at the torn collar, she said “It was already ruined anyway”. She mentally cursed because he was wearing a fucking undershirt. So she grabbed his face with both hands, and pulled him to her to resume their kissing, but he broke it off after just a couple of licks of her lips,and looked at her with a smirk.

“Don’t even think of doing the same to mine”, she warned.

So he carefully unbuttoned it, kissing her neck in the process, tickling her sensitive skin with his mustache and beard. With each button undone, he kissed a little lower, but not much; when her blouse was fully undone, he had barely got to her breasts, and had started his way back up anyway. He caressed her belly with his fingertips, grabbed her hips for a short moment, pulling her closer to him again, while making the both of them move towards the back of the apartment, to what he probably thought was the bedroom. “Or does the big CIA spy already know the floor-plan of my home?” She would not be surprised.

He gently peeled her shirt off of her, while she practically ripped his off of him. He opened the door and swiftly lifted her off her feet, as if she was light as a feather. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his erection, now in full bloom, right under her core. If she had not been already, the perspective of riding that cock would’ve made her soaking wet. She had come to the conclusion that he was well endowed, picking up several clues during these long hours working together, but it was even bigger than that – and it was still imprisoned in its fabric cage. He put her down by the bed after delicately unwrapping her legs off him.

“Déshabille-toi”, she murmured in French, nibbling right under his ear lobe.

“Toi aussi”, he replied, his voice a seductive growl, his American accent making his answer singing slightly.

And for the first time since they got out of her car, about half an hour earlier, they were more than a foot apart. They both took off their pants, hurrying, making it look like the fastest one would win this competition. She took a shortcut and pulled her panties down at the same time as her grey pants, but they got stuck in her boots. She fell backwards on the bed. “Mais putain!” No, she wasn’t nervous: she was impatient.

He chortled while parting with his own boots, took his tank top off in one swift move, and stood in his briefs, looking at her in the darkness of the room. The only light coming in came from a street lamp placed one floor down. The trees and the window frame were making shadows on the ceiling. He quickly checked that nobody could see in: there was no building opposite, so he didn’t bother closing the curtains. Not that he minded an audience, but maybe she wasn’t into it. She could, really: she looked delicious in that strappy bra. He had noticed it earlier that night, while they were having a drink at the office after their very long, very arduous day: he loved lingerie, any kind of lingerie, but that kind more than others. Gothic, bondage inspired, fetish, he didn’t know how it was called, didn’t care. He only cared that it framed tits in the sexiest way, particularly luscious tits like hers.

She was still struggling with her left shoe, so he kneeled in front of her, freed her foot and pulled her fitted pants off her legs, grazing the skin of her calf with the tip of his fingers. He felt her shiver, and slowly stretched his tall, supple body over her on the bed, close enough so that his facial hair brushed her chest without their skin actually touching, supporting himself on his forearms so not to crush her. He didn’t need to instruct her: she was already moving her hands down to pull at his briefs, and subsequently grabbed his cock in her right palm, making him deeply exhale with her touch. She gave him a couple of strokes while he got rid of his underwear. “Fuck me now, CIA!” Almost an order, that he gladly obeyed, groaning “Yes, Ma'am!” in her neck while entering her.

She whimpered, needing a little time to adjust not just to the length, but to the girth of his manhood, also trying to find the right position under that statuesque man. She bent her knees up, opening her legs, locking them loosely either side of his hips. After a while, she wrapped her feet behind his knees so she could follow his rhythm more easily, and she let her hands wander on his back. Such broad shoulders! As he was still mindfully avoiding to squash her, she could also caress his chest and tousle the hair over his large pecs, down his rock-hard abs, stopping less than an inch from the base of his shaft, which made him jerk lightly, and exhale again in a long rumble.

All the while, he had not stopped kissing her neck, her throat, and the top of her breasts. She suddenly realized she was still wearing her bra, but had barely begun taking it off that he barked “No! Keep it on. I like it…”, punctuating his demand with a deeper thrust, looking back at her before attacking the flesh of her heaving chest with his lips and tongue. She moaned louder in appreciation, and he went on to kiss her lips again. But he did not kiss her, he DEVOURED her. Unashamed of the hunger he felt, taking what she would let him take, and then some.

She was out of breath, panting more and more heavily, from the lack of air, and because her heart was pounding hard in her chest, the blood rushing in her veins throughout her whole body, boiling, making her sex burn with desire for more. The feeling was familiar, but more intense than usual. Rightfully: he was more intense than the usual man. He momentarily slid out of her, and she immediately felt cold and empty. But his huge hands seized her waist, turned her around, and his cock entered her again, barely missing a beat.

She was surprised by the moan that escaped her throat. He snarled something in her ear, but she was too far gone to understand the words. She mechanically grabbed his arm with her left hand, to try and steady herself: his now vigorous pounding made her petite body jerk forward with every thrust, and she was getting dangerously closer to the edge of the bed where they laid sideways. She did not want him to stop now, not even to bring her back to him. So she moved her right hand to grab his head, yanking at his hair a bit, which made him bite her neck. She yelped again, and moaned when his tongue licked the bite.

Encouraged by her reaction, he bit her again, a little more gently, just under the first bite, and then licked again, dutifully, never slowing down the powerful pummeling of her pussy. He kept alternating bites and licks, down her neck to her shoulder.

“You did not come yet?”, he queried. “Something wrong?” He had no doubt she was enjoying herself, but wanted to know if she needed anything different in order to climax.

“God, no! Don’t stop! I’m close…” She felt him smile on her shoulder, the slight brush of his mustache tickling her some more. And he lowered his body cautiously on top of hers, gently crushing her and slowing down, the energetic slamming turning into a lingering fuck. She would’ve protested, but he proceeded to roll his hips deeper into her, and within seconds, she was clenching her walls around him, arching her back and exhaling in ecstasy, her hands wrenching and tugging at the sheets tightly.

“Oh, fuuuuuccckkkk….”, she hushed. “Wow”, she thought.

She could feel him getting close to his orgasm too, as he resumed his strenuous moves, but this time at an erratic pace. As he so graciously gave her what her body needed a few seconds ago, she returned the favor, by lifting her ass closer into his groin. She grabbed his right hand to bring his fingers to her mouth and sucked on his index for a while, before mewling “Come inside me, now, August.” Just a moment later, he shot his load, grabbing her chin between his thumb and fingers, minus the index she was now licking languidly. He moved her face upward, and kissed her temple. Letting go of her, she crashed on the mattress, as he numbly looked at the long dark lashes of her closed eyes. She had a faint smile on her face, one of pure contentment, like when you drink a tall glass of crisp water on a hot day.

“Funny they call you the Hammer”, she mumbles into the bed sheets. “'Cause you’re really good at screwing.”

[harryskalechips]

I want your belly

A/N This is my first attempt at smut yikes.

words: 1091

You and Harry have been married for six months and he doesn’t know how to tell you he wants to start a family. What he doesn’t know is that you want to start one too. You’ve always wanted to have his children. Not only did he have amazing genes, but he also had traits of a good dad. The both of you were financially stable and had a secure job. You couldn’t see any reasons why you and he couldn’t start trying now.

The both of you were in the family room watching the Blacklist, cuddled up to one another. He was in his sweats and you were in your skimpy nightgown. The usual. He had his arm wrapped around your waist as he rested his head on your chest, leaving small kisses here and there when he felt like it. You kept your fingers in between his hair, slowly massaging his scalp.

“Baby, I have something I want to ask you?” you murmur slowly, not trying to surprise him. You also didn’t want to wake him up or distract him from the show.

“Mhm, what’s that love?” He kisses your collarbone and lower jaw before facing the TV again.

“I know you want children in the future but when do you think we should start?” You feel his body go tense on your body before you know it, he sits up and looks at you.

“Why are you asking? Do you have an idea when you want to start?” He plays with the ends of your hair, the light of the TV reflecting on the both of you. You nod silently, biting your lip embarrassed to say, you want to do it now.

“Love, why are you shy?” He looks almost concerned about why you don’t want to say your answer out loud. “You want to start now?” His eyes glimmer of hope as he grips your thigh. “Use your words baby, Daddy won’t know what you want unless you tell him.” You feel your skin have goosebumps as he says the word “Daddy”. After being together for five years, it has just been a thing, where you call him baby, but in bed, you’ll be calling him daddy. You feel his hands go more north until they’re almost touching the edge of your thin thongs.

“I want your baby, daddy.” He smiles cheekily and sits on his knees. By the time you know it, it pulls you down by your ankles facing him. You look down to see what he’s doing, by resting your weight on the back of your elbows.

“Are you sure you want a baby, you won’t be my baby anymore then.” He lifts up your dress, exposing your bare nipples.

“You and I could give all our love to our new baby. If I can’t be your baby anymore, it’s okay.” You feel your heart drop a bit, at the thought. In reality, though, you really want a baby and you know Harry will love you no matter what. What could you truly lose?

“I’m just playing with you, my love. You will forever be my first baby. My only baby.” He slowly moves his way up your toned stomach, alternating between peck kisses and licks of the soft tongue. You quietly moan, biting your lip. You were so aroused by your hot husband teasing you while you were almost stripped naked on your couch.

He starts sucking on your left nipple while groping on the right one. “Fuck baby, you look so hot for me right now.” He whispers seductively into your ear. He takes his free hand ripping your panties off of you with just one try, and going straight for your pussy. “Wow, look who’s so wet right now.” he pushes two fingers into you, making you moan so loudly your grip on the side on the couch. You felt the cotton of the fabric on your nail, knowing you pulled so hard that you ripped the fabric.

Harry hears your gasp at the reaction, sitting up. He looks to where your clawing and smirks. “Wow, I haven’t even given you my dick yet.” He continues to finger fuck you until you come for the first time.

“Daddy, I want your cock. Please, can you fuck me already.” You beg as you rest your head on the couch, feeling his wet chin lick you clean.

“Yeah, baby you want me to fuck you now.” He pulls his sweatpants and shirt off while you stare at him with astonishment. His tattoos complemented his skin as his muscles flexed to throw them on the floor. He stripped you off too but as soon as he took off your dress, he pulled your hair and his other hand on your waist turned you over. “Fuck.” He groaned, fingering your wet pussy again, feeling the juice that reached all the way to your ass. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that my cum in your tight pussy won’t ever let it drip. You��ll be clenching non-stop.” You moan louder as he puts those fingers into your mouth, making you suck on your own juices. He teases your clit a couple of times, tapping on it before shoving himself inside you so hard, you felt yourself choke a bit.

“Daddy, you’re so big, I can’t.” You look around the room, finding your eyes focusing on the TV screen, trying so hard to distract yourself not to cum again. “Daddy, I’m so sensitive, fuck.” He spanks your ass and turns you over so you guys are in a missionary position.

“I want your belly, baby. You feel me.” He rests his hand on your stomach, feeling the force from his dick. “Loved getting washed away in you. So tight.” You moan louder as he moves your legs on the tops of his shoulders. You nail his back, trying to reach your high again. “Your pussy is so warm, you’ll take my cum so well. Yeah, baby?”  He moans into your ear as he fucks you harder.

By the time you know it, he releases inside of you for the first time without any contraceptives.

You feel him choke your neck a bit before sucking on both of your nipples and kissing you on the lips. He pulls out after, quickly replacing your wet hole with his finger.

“Can’t afford to lose any of that huh?” You smile lazily at him as he picks you up into his arms so he can cradle you. “I love you, baby.”

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Erik is a Sub and Reader is a Dom.

This will definitely be two parts because I want to be very thorough.

Mama? Can I eat your pussy, please?

It was a terribly busy day at the office. Phones were going off the hook, meetings were being held, and paperwork needed finishing. Y/N was currently in her management office on the 10th floor in Cyber Security. She started as an Analyst when she first got the job at the age of 23 and now she was an Information Security Manager. Security Managers play a key role in avoiding security disasters by identifying any areas that might make your information systems vulnerable. These are the professionals who are tasked with assessing current security measures and mitigating future attacks against your company's computers, networks, and data.

Jimmy Choo suede pumps on her feet, high waisted midi pencil skirt hugging her hips tightly, and satin blouse stretched over her copious chest, Y/N paced the floor. The Infinity Shag Onyx Black Rug on her office floor masked the sound of her heels as she walked back and forth, her eyes on her phone from the text message that came through. It was from one of the new hires; an Analyst by the name of Candice. Such a sweet girl. Very sexy too. Nice and thick, short curly fro, a pretty round face, and lips so full she could probably suck a golf ball through a straw. Y/N has a thing for full lips on women and men. Y/N typed out a quick reply to the chick before taking her seat again so she could check her emails.

Candy, mama is working really hard, okay sweetie? Save that appetite for lunch break.

Y/N put her phone on the charger and went to work answering other company managers and clients back via email. That literally took up an hour of her time. Now, she was currently waiting to be pinged into a video conference that would take another hour and a half to get through. Y/N was growing tired already. Thirty minutes before her video conference began, Candice sent her another text with a picture attached to it. Y/N side-eyes the phone, picking it up swiftly to see what this little girl was up to now.

See? This is what’s happening to me right now just thinking about sucking and licking your pussy for you, mama. Please, let me serve you in the quiet room! My mouth is drooling for your sweet pussy juices.

“You nasty little girl,” She spoke softly as her eyes focused on the phat pussy Candice had between her succulent thighs. Her tiny labia and clit were engulfed by those plump lips. Two sets of fullness; one on her face and one between her legs.

“Fuck,” Y/N licked the brown butter gloss by NYX off her lips from how much she nibbled and licked on them because of Candy’s raunchy photo. Glancing at the time on her phone, she could get in a quick session before the conference. She was going to make Candice work for it too since she fucking begged so much. Flipping her silk pressed hair back, Y/N gets up from her desk chair, walking with her phone in hand around the large glass desk and out the double glass doors to her office. The usual tech sounds and phones ringing filled her ears as she walked down the aisle that split the room into two sides with the same set of cubicles for all the Analysts, and Web Developing Crew. In the second to last row, three cubicles down, was where Candice resides. She had a headset over her head, short curly fro is crinkled from a braid out she did the other night. The turtle neck dress she wore left nothing to the imagination and the ALDO Loviecia open toe shoes on her feet gave Y/N a peek at the pretty mauve color on her toes.

Y/N placed a single squared red acrylic nail on the desk in eyeshot, tapping it lightly with her other hand on her curvy hip. Candice smiles softly at her computer before turning to her boss, with worry in her eyes.

“Hello, Miss Y/N, is something wrong with the network again?” She spoke in a silvery smooth tone. Very tranquil.

“No, but I think you need to come along with me, Miss Williams, I have about twenty-five minutes before my video conference so I suggest you move swiftly.”

Thank God for cubicles because this office was filled with nosy people. Y/N never did this with someone she worked with. On the job “relationships” weren’t the best to have but Y/N couldn’t resist the looks Candice gave her. Candice got up from her seat, following behind Y/N and through a set of doors that led to restrooms, the break rooms, and finally, two quiet rooms. There were two on each floor for Employees to escape to. Y/N entered one of the rooms, holding the door open for Candice before shutting it behind her and locking it. Candice stood facing her Mama, back straight and eyes were unblinking.

“Candice, you little slut,” Y/N seductively walks up to Candice causing the girl to swallow spit, eyes fighting to drag up and down Y/N’s gorgeous body.

“Didn’t mama tell you that I was busy?” Y/N spoke in an even tone.

“Yes, mama,” Candice answers, “But I’m so horny-“

“On your knees, now.” Y/N walks away towards a suede olive green sofa. They really needed to re-decorate these rooms, the color scheme was awful. Y/N looked through a wall mirror, spotting Candice on her knees behind her. Y/N toyed with her hair before giving Candice more instructions to follow.

“Crawl to me.”

Y/N could hear Candice moving closer. Finally, she felt the girls heat against the back of her exposed calves. Y/N arched over the couch, her ass poked out at Candice. Candice took in a sharp breath at that sight.

“Get up and unzip my skirt. Do it slowly, mama wants you to focus on what your unwrapping, sweetie.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Good Girl.”

Y/N could feel Candice reach behind her while still in a kneeled position, grabbing that tiny zipper and ever so gently pull it down. Candice watched as the material began to peel apart to reveal the crammed cheeks of Y/N. All that ass spilled out and damn near smacked Candice in the face.

“Mama, you’re ass is getting fatter,” Candice spoke with a shaky tone. Y/N had on a black lace thong that disappeared between both cheeks.

“Thank you, princess. Don’t worry, your face will be in between my ass soon enough. Now...pull my thong off completely.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Good Girl.”

Candice removes the thong.

“Lick the crotch of my thong.”

Candice wasted no time to pull the fabric apart, licking Y/N’s wet crotch. It tasted like her; sweet and tangy like pineapples. This woman drove her crazy.

“Such a nasty little bitch. I bet you would suck on the crotch of my panties if I told you too, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, Mama. I’d do anything you told me to.”

“So, you would let my underwear sit in that mouth so you can drool all over it?”

“Yes, Mama, oh my God, yes,” Candice was grabbing her breasts now and rubbing her thighs together.

“Don’t touch yourself. You want to give it to Mama, right?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then you only get to please Mama. Pulling me away from my work because you want some pussy in your mouth. So damn nasty, shame on you, Candy.”

Candice had a pout on her lips, “I’m sorry, Mama.”

Y/N squatted on the couch, her phat puss and ass hanging over the edge of it.

“Get over here and eat this pussy. Eat me like you’re starving since you’re drooling so fucking much.”

Candice crawled to her, turning around to lay her head back so Y/N could rest her pussy onto Candy’s mouth.

“Open up, sweetie.”

Candice opens her mouth.

“Don’t touch me unless I tell you to, bitch.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Y/N sat that pussy on Candy’s full lips. The girl went to work placing soft kisses there; lingering kisses. Y/N bit down on her lip. Candice used the strength of her tongue to part the phat lips, Y/N’s large labia and clit resting against her saliva-coated tongue. She starts to french kiss her inner folds, Y/N’s juices leaking into her mouth over and over.

“Mmm, that’s right, eat my pussy like that.”

Candice would alternate between french kissing on Y/N’s labia and clit and flicking it with her tongue. The girl was working those jaws to give Y/N exactly what she wanted and then some. Y/N could hear Candy’s lips smacking and she just knew that from the vision Candice received that the girls tongue was swimming in her juices. Candy always had Y/N wet as fuck.

“Suck on my fucking pussy, bitch.” Y/N spoke in a dominant tone.

“Like this, Mama?” Candice showed her how she thought Mama wanted to be sucked. As soon as those full lips wrapped around her clit and pulled, Y/N shuttered, ass cheeks clenching and asshole winking from how much she convulsed.

“Just like that, oh, you working me, girl, you’re sucking me up!”

Candy sucked on Y/N’s clit like she was sucking on a jolly rancher. Y/N would ride her face, causing her clit to pop out of Candy’s mouth only for the girl to suck on again.

“You’re stroking the fuck out of my clit with that slutty little mouth of yours. You’re gonna make Mama cum all over your pretty face since you’re so hungry for this tasty pussy!”

Now Candice alternated between sucking and flicking her tongue on Y/N’s engorged clit and inner folds.

“Yesss! Yesss!” Y/N slaps her own ass, “oh, you bitch, you nasty little bitch I’m cumming!”

She could feel her cream and liquid oozing from her pussy. Candice wrapped her entire mouth over Y/N’s inner pussy, sucking like those fishes stuck to the side of the tank. She had Y/N’s eyes rolling back, another cum so close behind the one she just had.

“Look at you! You’re so hungry, sweetie! Oh my God, oh my God, yes, yes, oh my God, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum, oh my God, Yes!”

And Y/N sure did cum. More than the last time. The shit was spilling down the sides of Candy’s face. Candice only used her mouth to work her Mama to orgasm. Y/N lifts her sweaty face from the couch cushion to check her phone in hand. She had about eight minutes to get her pussy out of Candy’s mouth before the girl took it up a notch and ate her pussy again. Y/N just knew that Candice was sopping wet. Y/N will reward her.

“Get up and wipe your face off, sweetie.”

Candice lifts from the floor, grabbing some Kleenex from the coffee table covered in magazines to wipe her face off. Instead of wiping her lips, she licked them, wanting to get the last bits of her Mama’s juices off her lips. Y/N put her skirt back on and thong, her pussy lips twitching from cumming twice and wanting more. She turned to the mirror, fixing her hair quickly before leading the way out of the room.

“I want you to go to that bathroom and put the vibrator inside of you. I will control it from my desk,” Y/N grabs Candy’s neck, pulling her towards her to kiss those luscious lips.

“Mmm, I can still taste myself,” Y/N whispers in Candy’s ear, “Do what I say so I can make that phat pussy cum, Candy.”

“Yes, Mama,” Candice was in a trance. When Y/N let go, Candice almost lost balance. She clutched the wall and watched Y/N, her Dom, walk away with a switch in her hips and back to her office. Candice wasted no time to grab her vibrator from her purse so Y/N could control it from her office.

——————

She made it just in time.

The minute she returned to her seat at her desk the ping popped up, Y/N accepting it and watching the Wakandan Outreach logo swirl on her screen before all managers popped up in the live video. There were two other videos to wait for. One was for King T’Challa, the other for Prince N’Jadaka. Y/N said her hellos to the other managers from other floors except for the very top floor; the 15th floor. That floor belonged to the CEO, CFO, and the Chairmen of the company. There was limited access on that floor with gel fingerprint analysis and eye scan that the Cyber Security Department themselves constructed.

A dinging sound caught her ears, letting her know that both the King and Prince; CEO and CFO, were arriving in live video. However, only one showed up this time. It was Prince N’Jadaka. King T’Challa’s video was still dark and not in use.

“Good afternoon, Molo ngokuhlwa,” The CEO and CFO always greeted everyone in both English and Xhosa. Y/N wanted to fully learn Xhosa to be more fluent. They offered classes there at the outreach to teach the Wakandan language. Everyone said Good afternoons the exact same way. Prince N’Jadaka was currently standing in front of the holographic screen that he used to talk with everyone. Something the Software Systems Developers on the 9th floor created. They worked closely with Cyber Security.

“I’ll keep this brief since the King isn’t here. He had to visit the UN. So don’t worry, I won’t keep y’all for an hour. Thank me later.”

Everyone laughed at that.

“Now, as you all know we are trying to tackle and control violence. There was a hacking attempt that could have jeopardized every single department here at the OutReach. Besides Stark Enterprises, we are one of the most wealthiest Companies in the world.”

Y/N used to intern for Stark Enterprise while she was in college earning her degree in Cyber Security. When she found out about the OutReach almost four years ago, she was among the first individuals to be hired. Now, she was staring at the CFO and Prince who moved her up rank because she did such an amazing job. She never got the chance to personally thank Prince N’Jadaka. She wished she could thank him in a few ways; hugging him and sucking his dick.

Prince N’Jadaka sported a chestnut-colored turtle neck with a pair of grey Burberry slim fit slacks. He wore his gold-rimmed glasses today and his dreads were braided back with a fresh line up. She wondered if his hair smelled like mango butter. He was tall and large, his body probably covered in muscles. He had that tapered waist that she liked and strong toned legs. Prince N’Jadaka always got her hot and bothered through the video calls. The Dominatrix in her wanted to overpower him. It burned her desire to control a man who was so much bigger and more intimidating than her. Bring him to his knees, put him in chains and cuffs, beat him with a paddle and whips. Scratch his skin, bite him, edge him until the tip of his dick purpled with the need to erupt like a volcano, make him moan, use that mouth of his to sit on like her favorite chair and ride him like a madwoman, grab his dreads and ram his face into her pussy...

Y/N snapped the pen in her hand. She was that turned on that she applied force to one of her pens. All of that sounded nice, making Prince N’Jadaka her sex slave; her sub. But she was never going to meet him as far as she was concerned.

“Any questions?” He asked with his husky voice. A series of “no” spilled from everyone’s mouths.

“Good, you know what to do if something comes to mind. Shoot me an email and I’ll have my team get back to you so we can schedule a one on one chat. Enjoy the rest of your day, ukuvalelisa (farewell).”

“ukuvalelisa” Everyone said back before the meeting adjourned. Her screen went black, the OutReach Center logo spinning in front of her indicating that her computer was asleep. Y/N had a lot of paperwork to take care of so she may have to skip lunch. Grabbing her phone, she pulled up the app to control Candy’s vibrator. Without warning the girl she set it on a pattern that she created before cracking her knuckles to get to work. A message came through on her phone that she glanced at but refused to respond to. She made her cum hard now it was her turn.

Mama! I almost fell out of my chair! Mama my pussy is throbbing omg!

Y/N smiles mischievously before increasing the intensity on the vibrations.

——————

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress@chefjessypooh@chaneajoyyy@pananegra@theblulife @becincere@blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah@moonlight-night-sky @eyeknowmywrites@crowngold@njadakillthiscookie@blktinkerbell@luvanxi@sheisexcellent1@chocolatedippedinhoney@brandithecrystalgem@dababydababydababydababy@soulfulbeauty19@btitannaaa@sunkissedebony97@youngblackndgifted@harleycativy @rbhp@thee-germanpeach@thadelightfulone@bugngiz@palmstreesallday@skylahb @bakaris-shorty@nizzle-mo

[solynaceawrites]

Wires [6]: Remembrance (Fear)

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer-- both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams..” —Bram Stoker

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Dante doesn’t bother to turn on the radio for this trip. It’s a first, and it unsettles her. From the few things she’s learned about him since they met—the confidence that borders on arrogance, the fleeting moments of kindness beneath the gruff exterior, the fact that he loves and hates cop-house coffee—the affinity for classic rock is the most prominent, and the lack of it now only cements how badly she has messed up. Humiliation had given way to shame once she was out of the precinct, and now shame is circling right back to anger, though this time it is mostly aimed at herself. She hasn’t even been in Red Grave City for four days yet and she’s gone and shown herself to be an unreliable loose cannon as far as her new Chief is concerned, someone who might not be suited for the type of crime that comes with big cities.

Needing something to break the silence, she leans over to fiddle with the knobs, only for Dante to shut the radio off as soon as she’s turned it on. “Not now,” he says shortly.

Lir bristles, tries not to. “What? You’re gonna sit over there like I’m some sort of, I don’t know, wild woman who might claw your eyes out?”

“No,” he replies.

“Then let me turn the damn radio on.”

“No,” he says again. “I’m gonna talk, and I want you to take that chip off your shoulder and listen. You can bitch at me when I’m done.”

“Fuck you.”

Dante curses as he pulls into a spot outside of her building and puts the car in park. “That’s what got you into this mess. You let your temper get the best of you and, yeah, Morrison was right to send you home because you nearly fucking ruined our chances to put Miller away with your little stunt in interrogation.” He runs his hands through his hair, upsetting the strands so they fall around his face. “I get it, Lir, I fuckin’ get it. I’m just as pissed as you are. You think I like that there’s a guy out there hurtin’ women? Fuck no! I hate it, and I hate that we can’t seem to get a lead on him. But Miller ain’t him, and you forgot that.”

“He’s just as bad!” She protests hotly. “Marie didn’t deserve—”

“There’s a reason we don’t call victims by their first names,” he points out quietly. “You’re gettin’ too close, Lir, too personal with this. Any other time, I’d say that’s a good thing, maybe you could figure out what we’re missin’, but if it’s gonna send you off half-cocked . . .”

Lir understands where he’s going with that line of thinking and snaps, “Don’t you dare try to take me off of this case, Dante.”

“My first partner was a lot like you. Spitfire, hot temper, bleedin’ heart. You know what she did?” He looks at her steadily, unflinching. “She got herself killed. Found a lead and went after the perp without backup, broke protocol. Yeah, we nailed the bastard in the end, but only ‘cause she put a bullet in his thigh just before he beat her to death.”

It’s a sad thing to think of. If she weren’t so pissed, she might have offered sympathies, but all she can think of is Sophie Marsons, like she’s a dog and this is the bone she can’t stop chewing on even when her obsession turns it to splinters that cut into her gums. “I’m going to find this guy, Dante. I’m going to feed him his balls and crucify him. You hear me?”

He moves so quickly that she has no time to react at all. One minute, he’s in his seat, turned to face her; the next, he’s over the console, one hand braced on the back of her seat and the other on the handle of the door, his arms a cage that trap her in her seat. Being cramped up like this, locked between the bulk of his body and the door of the car, Lir fights to keep her breathing controlled. The warm, humid air inside the cab is heavy with the scents of sweat and cologne and the unique musk of damp fabric, but under all of that is something else, something other, that makes her so keenly aware of the space he takes up that it almost frightens her. No, not frightens; it's not fear that makes her pulse race, or her palms damp, or her throat dry. It's desire, plain and simple, to be touched, to be held, to be kissed.

To feel human again.

Dante is so close that it would take no effort at all to sit up and seal her lips over his. A desperate, foolish move that would cost her her reputation and her career—it's always the woman's fault in matters of seduction, whether she initiates it or not—but the idea sticks once it's been born. Easy, sure. And then she could invite him up, see how the stubble on his jaw feels on her breast, and when Morrison calls her into his office to force a resignation she can look at him and say, "Sorry, boss, but I really needed a good lay."

"Back off," she hisses through clamped teeth. Dante doesn't move, just watches her, his eyes half-lidded and burning where they linger on her face. "Back off, Redgrave."

"You gonna go off and get yourself killed?" he rumbles.

Her shoulders tense. "No."

"I want your word, Thorne."

The fact that he's back to using her last name stings after hearing him use her first for a scant twelve hours. "Fine. You have my word. I'm going to sleep, and then I'll see you at the precinct." Saying the words aloud soothes her a bit. They make her sudden need for him make sense: it's just sleep-deprivation. Just exhaustion.

He studies her for a moment longer before he nods and moves away, settling back into his seat. “It’s . . .” Dante checks his watch. “ . . . noon. On Monday. Christ. Morrison doesn’t want you back in until tomorrow. Trust me,” he says wryly at her frown, “you come back in today, he’s gonna put you on administrative work for a week. Go shower. Sleep. Get somethin’ to eat. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“What about you?” she mutters, playing with the door handle.

“I’m gonna crash myself, then catch up with Trish, do the report on Miller.”

He’s taking tasks off of her plate, and she mumbles her gratitude as she climbs out of the car and heads inside. Her apartment is cool and dark, blessedly silent. Lir stands in her living room and looks around and the half-unpacked boxes and the clothes she’d left on the floor Saturday afternoon and lets out a long sigh before getting to work. First she picks up her mess, depositing her stuff in the hamper and hanging her coat up on the back of the bedroom door to dry, then she slowly peels out of her damp clothing and takes an indulgently long, hot shower. She makes her bed, puts on pajamas, towels her hair and combs it out, wondering idly if it’s time for another trim. Then she returns to the living room, making a pit stop in the kitchen for a glass of wine and to toss a frozen burrito in the microwave before grabbing a box and settling on the floor with it.

It’s labelled books a-c, and she takes a sip of her wine as she opens it and begins laying the books in neat stacks around her. She’d done her best to keep them organized while packing, but some things got moved around to make them fit in the box, and she puts them back in order and carries them over to the bookcases on one of the windowless walls. There’s four cases total; slowly, breaking only to eat her burrito and refill her wine, Lir fills them with a variety of novels ranging from biographies to horror stories to mysteries to true crime accounts, until all of the boxes with books scrawled on them are empty and collapsed for recycling. She eyes the next stack, these labelled living room, then the clock on the microwave. It’s just after five, and Lir shakes her head and puts her empty glass in the sink. Exhaustion is making her nauseous now—that and too much aspirin and wine on a stomach with only a burrito to keep them company—and she just wants to sleep.

The pizza, she thinks, climbing into bed and putting her phone on her nightstand. We never ate that fucking pizza. Wonder who did?

Lir slips easily and quietly into dreams of her father. In them, she is five years old, and her father, a man named Augustus Thorne, a man who would die when he answered a robbery call at a convenience store and was bludgeoned to death with a bat, is sitting in his recliner, a dusty, threadbare thing that her mother only half-feigns horror at having in their den. She is at his knee, working a puzzle that she has completed before, bright splashes of color in the shape of a barn, a horse, a cow on large pieces fit for a toddler’s hands. The room is warm, painted with early July sunshine, and motes of dust dance lazily in the air. Soon, he will put away the newspaper he reads every day, and drink the last of his coffee, and then he will take her outside until he has to leave for his shift. Maybe they’ll work on the truck that runs on a prayer, though she hopes that he’ll push her on the swing instead. The truck scares her.

It scares her mother, too. It is a slipshod, bastard of a truck, assembled from whatever serviceable parts her father could find, the paint mismatched and rusting, the engine a beast that snarls and sputters when awoken. Her father calls it the Beast with the same affection he uses when speaking of the stray dog that sometimes sleeps on their porch, a loving sort of exasperation that makes all of his threats of selling the truck empty. Her mother simply calls it dangerous.

“Lirael,” her father says, folding up his paper with a dry snap that has her looking up from her puzzle. “What do you say we go out, get some ice cream?”

It’s more than her five year old mind ever dares to hope for, and she leaps up with a squeal. “Can we, papa? Really?”

“Yes. But you have to promise not to tell your mother.” He makes a grave face, running his fingers across his mouth in a zipping noise. “And to eat all of your dinner tonight. Otherwise we can’t go.”

“I promise, papa!”

“Even the peas.”

Her face screws up in disgust that only momentarily tempers her excitement. “Do I have to?”

“Mm-hm.” Her father nods sagely. “Peas are good for you.”

“Okay.” Her shoulders sag. “Even the peas.”

He smiles then, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes deepening to slashes that run to his temples. “That’s my girl. Clear away your puzzle and put on your shoes.”

Lir dutifully does as she’s been told, her tongue peeking from between her lips as she carefully puts the pieces back in the box and carries it to the shelf. Then she gets her sneakers from the rack by the back door and puts them on, whispering, “Over, under, pull it tight. Make a bow, pull it through, do it right.” Her mother had taught her that little rhyme in January, wanting her to know how to tie her shoelaces before she started kindergarten in fall, and, even though her loops are uneven and the knot crooked, she gets them both done on the first try.

Her father takes her hand and leads her outside, where he helps her into the car her mother insisted he buy when they learned they were having a child. Lir waits as patiently as she can while he fastens her seatbelt through the slots of her booster seat and checks to make sure the safety lock is on. He ruffles her hair affectionately before closing the door, and she sits up straight to look out of the window as he gets in the front and starts the car. Their little house, set on a nice yard, is twenty minutes from town, and Lir always loves the rides there and back. She likes to count the different things she sees, pointing out the other cars and houses and people to her parents, who humor her. Sometimes, her father will play little games like I Spy with her while he drives, too. 

Today, though, he’s silent, not even the radio turned on, and Lir squirms uncomfortably in her seat, which feels too small. “Lirael,” he says quietly, “what are you doing, girl?”

She blinks, looking at him now through eyes that are now adult, the handles of the booster seat digging painfully into her hips, which are too wide despite her slender frame to fit within it anymore. “Father?”

Augustus does not turn to her. Horrified, she watches as the back of his head begins to distort, caving in on itself as though there are phantom blows striking him, and his voice is hoarse and full of blood when he speaks. “You can’t deny what you see, Lirael. You can’t drown it in a bottle, or between a woman’s legs, or with a man between your own.”

“I don’t see anything,” she whispers, afraid. Her hand scrambles for the door, needing to get out, only for the safety lock to keep it firmly closed. “Please, papa, please, I don’t understand.”

“Sure you do,” he replies, as amicably as a dead man can. “You understand just fine, and you’d understand better if you’d stop running. That’s what I did, girl, remember? Oh, how your mother and I would fight over it, until she told me she wanted a divorce. I never did apologize for you hearing that, did I?” He sighs wistfully. “You were never meant to.”

“I’m not running,” she protests weakly. God, let me wake up, please, God, I can’t do this right now. It’s bad enough that she has to deal with spirits—or hallucinations, as her mother had called them, when Lir was too old for imaginary friends to work—but for it to be her father, when she’s asleep and supposed to be safe . . .

Only now does he turn, and she sees the terror of her father’s face, or what she always imagined it looked like before the undertaker took care of him. One eye is turned, staring blankly at nothing, bulging from its socket like it’s going to fall out at any moment, blood streams from his crushed, broken nose and cut lips, and his teeth, when he smiles, are broken and jagged. There’s a stench of rot in the air, of dead things long buried, and she cranes back into her seat, her throat clogged with clawing panic. “You’ve been running for twenty years,” he says, “but you can’t anymore.”

Then there is a blaring horn and Lir screams as a truck careens towards them, one of the big ones used to haul freight and cargo, it’s headlights baleful eyes that pierce the cabin of their car as it strikes them head-on, glass shattering and steel screaming as it crumples—

Lir wakes, the piercing ringing of her scream echoing through the bedroom. She takes one shuddering breath, then another, before she crumples, sobs tearing harshly from her aching throat as she curls her knees to her chest and hugs them as if to keep herself from falling apart. How long has it been since she dreamed of her father? Since she graduated the academy, maybe, and the shock of seeing him like that, torn and broken, brings a grief she hasn’t felt since she was ten. Knowing that she is powerless against it, she allows it to flow freely, her tears soaking her shirt where they fall into it, the fear-scent of her sweat pungent and sharp. Father, father, she thinks, shaking. Why did you have to die? You should have known better than to answer that call, you should have taken back-up, you should have cleared the fucking store before you went in, playing the goddamn hero!

When the crying has tapered off to sniffles and her limbs have stopped trembling enough for her to move, she stands. In the bathroom, Lir washes her face in the dark, not wanting to see her puffed eyelids or reddened cheeks, splashing frigid water on her skin until the shock of it stops her tears completely. Then she pats herself dry with a towel and strips to wipe the sweat from her body before pulling on her bathrobe and returning to the living room. Her nightmare is too fresh, too vivid, for her to go back to bed. 

The clock on the microwave reads 3:01. The witching hour, and she stares at it dully for a moment before settling onto her couch and turning on the television. Lir flips through the channels until she finds a rerun of Red Dragon, and she pulls the duvet from the back of the couch over her shoulders as she settles into the familiarity of the world of Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham. In the morning, she’ll call Dante, needing human company to truly feel at ease again.

For now, she watches as Will Graham shouts at a reporter and waits for the fear to let her go.

[ladyoutlier]

Nothing too original but: Some first date / first kiss would be lovely! Oh and also Crowley in cute panic mode when Aziraphale finally catches up to him romantically.

Read on AO3

It had been seventeen hours and 42 minutes since Aziraphale had told Crowley that he loved him. The demon would have the time memorized down to the second, but he had been too stunned by the returned declaration of love that the second, and quite a few more, had passed before he had regained his composure.

And after that moment, time had slipped away. Ooey gooey, mind-melting, light-headedness of having 6000 years worth of pining finally pay off would do that even to Satan himself. Y’know, if Satan ever found himself in that position—which was far from likely, although no one really knew who the Antichrist’s mother was. Crowley was exceptionally vulnerable to it, but Aziraphale did that to him. Made him lose his composure, even if it usually was only internally.

At some point the sun had risen, and a night full of talking about things Crowley never thought he would say out loud had passed. At roughly eight sharp, Aziraphale had suggested that Crowley go off to water his plants and meet him back here at his bookshop at three. Perhaps they would spend the afternoon somewhere. Perhaps Hyde Park. He didn’t say first date directly, but they both knew that’s what it was. They had their own wordless way of speaking that only a millennium or two of frequent interactions could create.

Crowley did not water his plants at his flat. There was so much more to do. Planning. Oh so much planning. How did dates even work? He had his fair share of seduction jobs in the past, but those didn’t really follow up with an ongoing relationship. Dates were practically as foreign to him as Heaven itself. You dress up for them, yeah? But a park was hardly a place to sport a penguin suit. Bring flowers? That’s a thing. There’s a whole language to that though. Certain flowers mean specific things, and as big of a plant enthusiast as Crowley was, he had no idea what meant what. Ask a flower person? Botanists? No, they were called florists. There had to be one of those nearby. Did he have time for that? Surely. Worst case, he’d miracle himself some more.

Would it be too cheesy for him to play “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” on the ride? Yeah, probably. He really should’ve thought this out more. Well, he did. Quite a lot over the centuries. But all those thoughts found themselves submerged deep within himself to face tortures worse than the most vile punishments of Hell. He could vow for that.

If he had known that he actually had a shot with Aziraphale—that one day they’d be actually be going on a date together—maybe he would’ve let those thoughts play out a bit more. If he had properly started preparing for this as early as the Wall of Eden, he’d probably be a whole lot more confident and a whole lot more calm right now. He couldn’t stop pacing around.

Maybe flowers were too cliche. Too puppy love teenager mushy rubbish. But a gift was necessary. That’s what these things were all about. A thank you for giving a horrible demon a chance. A symbol of love. Yeah, that was still weird. Aziraphale really did love him. Wow. Isn’t that something? Might as well have dumped a bucket of holy water on him because that thought alone melts him into a pool on the linoleum.

He could always steal that book back from that American girl with the glasses. Aziraphale had really liked that thing, although he probably wouldn’t be all that happy with him immorally acquiring it. AH! If his heart could calm down for just three seconds, he could think a bit clearer. Maybe he’d just get rid of it. Not like he needed it after all. But that wouldn’t be very nice. Not that he wanted to be nice. Just he wouldn’t even be here without that infernal organ.

He could pull a Van Gogh but instead of an ear just give Aziraphale his whole heart. Two problems solved: the irritating beating and the present. Problem with that was that Aziraphale already had his heart.

He needed something with weight to it. Something that showed Aziraphale both how long and how much he loved him. Something one of a kind, but not flashy or showy. Aziraphale wasn’t one for things like that.

He had to have something that fit those qualifications. He kept quite a few souvenirs over the centuries. But did any of them—oh. Oh, he had the perfect thing.

*

“Hey boy where do you get it from

Hey boy where did you go?

I learned my passion in the good old fashioned school of loverboys”

“Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” did end up playing on the drive although Crowley swore the disc he picked wasn’t a Queen album. The demon was really glad that he had red hair because that certainly helped hide the pink tinge the tips of his ears had taken.

Aziraphale had been silent regarding the song except for a brief “Lovely tune, isn’t it?” before going back to talking about all sorts of things Crowley could listen to all day. The angel could be talking absolute bollocks, and he would still hang on every word.

Although Hyde Park wasn’t nearly as lovely as St. James’s Park, the change of scenery was very much appreciated. Plus, a new location very much fit with the theme of them being on a new level of their relationship. Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves on a nice bench in front of the river. An enormous tree rested in the middle of the path beside them. It seemed that instead of disrupting the giant, the humans had simply built around it. One of the rare examples of their environmental consciousness.

Of course, no appropriate first date at the park would be complete without a picnic lunch, and Aziraphale had thought of just that. He ruffled through his basket, which Crowley had called grandmotherly, and pulled out a few cucumber sandwiches. It was a light lunch, but for one, they didn’t actually need to eat, and two, they were likely to find themselves at some place for dinner in only a handful of hours.

Whether or not Crowley was one for eating was no one else’s business. It was also no one’s business how he ate if he did. As such, whether or not he actually ate the cucumber sandwich and how in that case it was devoured, remains a mystery. All that is known is that said sandwich was gone before Aziraphale had gotten halfway through his which wasn’t that surprising considering that the angel is a horribly slow eater.

“You know, this river’s called The Serpentine,” Aziraphale said, wiping his face with a handkerchief. “Thought you would find that amusing.”

Crowley leaned onto the back of the bench and scoffed. “That why you wanted to go here?”

“Maybe.”

Crowley grinned. The mood was playful. The atmosphere was calming. They had a nice lunch. There wasn’t a human in sight. Everything was grand. If now wasn’t the time, when was?

“Got you something, angel.”

The demon reached into his jacket and pulled out something wrapped in a silky black (for what other color would it be?) cloth. Aziraphale eyed him with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he took the gift. As he unwrapped it, Crowley turned to look out over the oddly named river. Still, thanks to his sunglasses, his eyes were on Aziraphale.

As the last of the fabric fell away, what was left behind was a small display box. Like one a person would use for a scientific sample of a raw gemstone. Through the see-through lid of the box, the angel could see a chunk of white stone. It wasn’t natural or glittery in nature. No, it looked man-made as if it once belonged in the entrance of a grand bank.

“Thank you, dear.” He turned the box over in his hand. “Although I do think I’d be a bit more appreciative if I, um, knew exactly what it was.”

“‘S part of the Eastern Gate.” Crowley stretched out on the bench. The more relaxed his posture was, the more he could pretend this was an everyday occurrence.

“Oh, Crowley. You don’t mean Eden’s Eastern Gate?”

“Course I do. Was where I met you. Place was collapsing after Adam and Eve got evicted.”

“Do think that was your fault, love.”

“I merely offered them an alternative. Entirely their fault they chose it. But anyways, figured God didn’t care much for the upkeep of the place considering that the wall could hardly be serving a purpose crumbled down, so I took a brick.”

“And you’ve managed to carry it around for quite literally all of time?”

“Well, not on my person but yes. It’s a good memory. Part with you I mean. The rest was pretty bland.”

“And you’re just giving it to me?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I? Don’t need it anymore now that I got you.”

Someone else might have not been able to tell whether Crowley’s remark was meant as a compliment or not, but to Aziraphale, who knew the demon’s tendency to give nuanced comments of admiration, it was dreadfully obvious what he meant. One does not simply have something for 6000 years and just give it up like it’s nothing. Aziraphale doubted there even was anything else left of the Wall of Eden besides this piece. Centuries of weathering and erosion would have ensured that. This was more than a time capsule. It was all that was left of the beginning. The only thing that could bring them back to their first moments together. And Crowley had given it to him just like that. The angel only regretted that he had nothing to give the demon in return.

“I’m at a loss for words. This is so sweet, Crowley. I really just can’t believe you’ve been holding on to it for all this time.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Aziraphale found himself doing something he very much wanted to but didn’t actually tell himself to do. He leaned over to the demon, still cupping the box in his hands, and kissed him right on the cheek. “Thank you.”

If Crowley thought his pink ears in the car was bad, he should’ve had a mirror for this moment. His complexion rivaled that of Satan’s in the red department. Somehow his sunglasses found themselves slid down the bridge of his nose. He was quite literally petrified. Maybe not as much as last night when his relationship with Aziraphale had started, but it was a close second.

“Too much?” Aziraphale asked, hesitantly.

“Do—do it again,” Crowley fumbled out as his mouth began to work once more.

“Gladly.”

The angel pulled him into another kiss, but this time, instead of landing on the cheek, it met with his lips. One would think that after 6 millennia of longing, nothing could live up to that desire. One would be very wrong. 

They held each other in a kiss that went on and on. Hands became involved, and they bound together as if they were always meant to be one. A shard of Eden was the only thing between them. And what happened next? Well, that’s their own personal business.

[indestructiblehearts]

Title: Want You (Again and again)

Pairing: Lucas x MC (Alea)

Summary: Things have been going well, but maybe that’s why she feels this way.

Notes: Just wanted to extend the scene where Lucas and MC have their date after winning the challenge. Here’s to all the Lucas stans.

Warning: Bondage (sorta) and some angst because that’s how I roll. 

—————————————————————————————–

“Easy, tiger.”

Lucas’s teasing whisper crawled up her spine, the sound soft and seductive. Alea bit her lip as his hand grazed low on her back, casually stroking the bare skin he found there. Picking Lucas and herself as the loudest in bed had been an inside joke between them, a throwback to the time the two of them had struggled to keep it quiet when they got hot and heavy in the shower while Noah and Hope argued outside.

Now with Lucas’s big warm hand touching her so possessively, Alea was reminded vividly how good it had felt earlier when he had pressed her up against the kitchen counter. He had gotten his thigh between her legs, encouraging her to rub herself against him while whispering wicked promises into her ear. They had burnt their first toastie, but it was hard to get upset about burnt food when the alternative was slow, possible brain-melting kisses with Lucas. And goodness, could the man kiss!

Alea shuffled uncomfortably in her seat and squeezed her thighs together, trying to ease the arousal that spiked through her core. She stole a peek at Lucas and caught his gaze on her, smirking as if he knew exactly what she was thinking about. His hand strayed indecently lower on her back very briefly before going up to her shoulder to draw her closer against his chest.  

“Later,” Lucas promised, his breath tickling her ear. Alea tried to hide her pleased smile when she looked up at him, and he winked, returning her smile with one of his own.

Her attention from that point onwards, though frazzled, was focused on winning the game. Whatever the prize was, it would probably be a nice break from all the drama of the recent days, and she wanted it badly. They were in the lead now, she fist pumped mentally, and flashed her answer for the nude modelling confidently.

“I’d take that class,” Chelsea admitted with a giggle, as she revealed her own vote for Lucas and Alea.

Alea looked her over, winking cheekily at Chelsea’s words. If she wasn’t so completely smitten by Lucas, she probably would have tried grafting on the cute blonde. Chelsea was both gorgeous and fun, and Alea had no problems admitting that she was one of the girls - other than Priya and Marisol - that she would have tried asking out if they had met outside of the villa. Right now though, she had her eye on one gorgeous man in particular. The same gorgeous man whose side she was pressed up against, and whose thumb was stroking the inside of her wrist and driving her insane with his casual, lingering touches.

When her phone had pinged with the text announcing their victory and upcoming date, Alea felt a warm flutter of anticipation grow in her chest. She raised her gaze from the phone screen, seeking out Lucas. As their eyes met and the other man’s gaze slowly slid over her, Alea blushed, raising an eyebrow at his blatant behaviour and receiving an unashamed smile in return.

Soon.  

-

“I guess we better get back to see the others.”  Lucas held out his hand, looking expectantly at Alea. She hesitated, biting her lip, not quite ready or willing to go back to see the others after their quiet time together. In the hideaway, with none of the other islanders around, she could take a step back from the villa situation and all its drama. Alea knew that drama was only natural - putting a group of fit single twenty-somethings together in the same space, competing for a cash prize while looking for true love on reality tv was truly a recipe for it, but it was nice to just relax and think about her own coupling with Lucas.

Sensing her hesitance, Lucas dropped his hand and sat down quietly next to her. He reached over, locking their fingers together on his lap.

“Something on your mind, darling?”

Alea smiled, squeezing his hand gently. She didn’t know how to even begin voicing her worries. Every date she had with him had been great, but was it really proof enough that there was potential? Was this thing between them really going to work out? Was he just playing the long game, or did he really see their relationship going somewhere? One of the questions during the challenge had been about being loyal, and though she had forgiven Lucas over coupling up with Blake, she couldn’t help but felt some frustration at not even being able to write their names down for that. Sure, they were compatible sexually, but she didn’t want it to be only that.

“I meant what I said earlier, Alea. I know the whole thing with Blake was a mess and entirely my fault, and I’m truly sorry I didn’t trust in you then,” he said softly, as if he knew what she couldn’t bring herself to admit.  

“You’ve changed everything for me.”

Alea watched in surprised as Lucas ran his free hand nervously through his hair after his confession, messing up the perfectly tousled style he maintained. The man rarely revealed his nervousness or uncertainty, navigating everything with confidence, but here he was, fucking up his hair because of one conversation. Because of her.

He cupped her cheek with one hand, gently tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

“I hurt you then, and I’m going to spend a lifetime making it up to you because I’ve never met someone who made me feel the way you do, and I’m incredibly lucky to not have lost that. That I’m with you, right here, right now.”

And just like that, the little insecure voice in her head shut right up.

“Lucas…”

Alea’s heart beat faster as he looked right at her, his gaze warm and sincere. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, pulling back with a fond smile.

As she wound her arms around his neck, Alea dragged him closer. “More,” she demanded.

His gaze darkened as she boldly climbed into his lap, fingers curling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled. A low groan escaped his lips and Lucas grabbed her waist in warning, “The others are waiting for us, darling.”

Alea laughed, the sound low and husky. “Fuck them. …Or better still, fuck me.”

He chuckled at her words, nuzzling her throat and following the trail of her silver necklace down between her breasts. “Did I mention just how gorgeous you look in this outfit yet?”

Alea arched her back and moaned in reply, her eyes fluttering shut as Lucas tugged the scraps of black covering her breasts away. He peppered her with kisses, teeth scraping lightly over her nipples. Drawing back, Lucas moved them so he could lay her back against the soft white pillows on the wide bed. Slipping the straps off her shoulders, he slowly stripped Alea out of her one-piece outfit, leaving her in her sheer black panty.

Lucas sucked in a deep breath as if to calm himself, staring down still at her bare body as if he was afraid the wrong move would break the spell in the room. Alea licked her lips and his eyes snapped to the movement immediately. She smiled, slow and seductive, and dragged her hands up over her body to rest them above her head.

“Don’t let me stop you from looking,” she teased, arching her back in a way that put her on display for his eyes.

“Tease,” he growled out warningly, shuffling on his knees to put himself between her legs. Alea parted her legs eagerly, sighing as his hard body pressed against her.

“It’s not teasing if we follow through, is it?”

Instead of answering, Lucas leaned down, finally lowering his lips to hers in a passionate kiss. It was hard and demanding all at once, the kind of kiss that left no doubt to what he wanted to do to her. His hand roamed over her hips and chest, touching her everywhere except where she wanted him to be. Alea groaned in frustration, rolling her hips against his. Breaking the kiss, Lucas pulled back, the both of them panting heavily. Lucas slid his palms over her arms and guided her hands up, and up, until she could curl her fingers around the slats in the headboard. He knelt back on his heels, palm pressed against the erection straining behind his trousers’ zipper, and admired the vision that she made.

“Don’t let go.” he said, a wicked look in his eyes as he hooked his fingers in her panty’s waistband, dragging it down slowly over her thighs. He winked as he tucked the damp fabric into his pocket.

“Let’s prove exactly which couple’s the loudest, shall we?”

Propping her hips up with a pillow, Lucas bent down between her legs, fingers spreading her folds to reveal her clit. He pressed a kiss right up against her core, reverent in their worship of her. Alea grabbed the headboard tightly and moaned in pleasure as Lucas dragged his tongue over her clit and sucked on the sensitive flesh. His mouth was hot and insistent on her, knowing the best ways to drive her crazy, and his hands touched her everywhere, holding her hips still when she started bucking against his face for more. It drove her mad, not being able to grab his head and grind herself against his mouth like she wanted to, but she wanted to do this, for herself, for him.

“Please, please, please!” Alea begged, squirming as he lifted his head from between her legs.

“What do you need, darling?” he asked, his smirk telling her that he knew exactly what she wanted.

“Your tongue inside, your fingers, anything, please, Lucas,” she keened frustratedly, spreading her thighs open wider in invitation.

Alea moaned louder as he went back down on her. She gripped the slats harder, her moans coming freely now, unashamedly loud. The man knew exactly what to do with his tongue and fingers, feasting on her core like she was his favourite meal. When Lucas finally, finally slid two of his long fingers into her, curled them just right, and sucked on her clit, she nearly wept from the toe-curling pleasure. Her entire body went taut, and she shuddered hard, breathlessly whimpering his name like a thankful prayer.

Lucas sat back, enjoying the way she looked, sprawled out on the bed and limp from her orgasm. He wiped his lips and chin with his fingers, trying to get his harsh breathing under control. Alea breathed just as hard, her body shivering from how good she felt. She lifted her arms towards him and Lucas went, letting her draw him into a desperate and heated kiss. Her fingers scratched lightly down his back as she tasted herself on him. She was his, completely, and now she wanted him to be hers.

Breaking the kiss, she ran her hand down over his muscular chest and abs, and cupped over his erection possessively.

Her touch made him groan, and he rocked his pelvis against her palm. Her touch undid him faster than any other girl’s ever had, and giving her pleasure had gotten him close to coming in his trousers. Lucas moaned as she slid down lower, her hands settling loosely on his clothed arse. She nuzzled his bulge and looked up expectantly at him from underneath her dark lashes. Lucas tensed up and swore softly under his breath. He ran his hand up the back of her head and tangled his fingers in her long, dark hair, tugging it back gently.

“I want you, Alea.”

All thoughts of returning to the others in the villa were forgotten.

-

“So, how did it go?” Lottie asked her, much later when they joined the others. Alea fought back her blush when Lucas smiled right at her.

“It was really lovely. I mean, Alea was there, so I had everything I’ll ever need,” he said, squeezing her hand in his.

Alea squeezed his hand back gently, smiling at him as the others started on deep, meaningful chats. Holding the hand of the man that she could, might, possibly just love for a lifetime, Alea knew that even if she could have a dozen do-overs in the villa, she’d do everything just the same. Over and over again, because it would always bring her back to him.

[artificialqueens]

Uprooted, chapter 3: A Sappy Ending (branjie) - writworm42

A/N: Last chapter: Vanessa found out that Brooke is her manager, and also decided that breaking HR policy is definitely worth it. This chapter: Vanessa and Brooke get together again at Brooke’s apartment. Fun ensues.

Thank you, Holtzmanns, for helping me cultivate my skills as a writer and beta-ing for me <3 Without you keeping me grounded, this fic could never have become as solid as it is… I know my puns drive you barking mad, but the fact that you could stay so sunny is amazing. Thank you!

“Sorry I’m late,” Vanessa explained sheepishly as Brooke led her inside, “I had to feed my frog.”

“You have a frog?” Brooke turned around to look at Vanessa, smiling with an expression that Vanessa couldn’t quite decipher. She blushed, nodding.

“Her name is Bertha, and I–”

“That’s a good frog name.” Brooke’s smile widened, “I love it.”

Vanessa exhaled deeply, relief calming the tension in her chest. Brooke loved it. She still thought Vanessa was cool.

“Can I get you anything, by the way?” Brooke walked over to her fridge, swinging open the door and peering inside, “I have juice, water, some Diet Coke, wine…” her tone changed when listing that last option, and she looked back at Vanessa with a coy smile and raised eyebrow. Vanessa rolled her eyes.

“Alright Mary,” Vanessa laughed, “Let’s see what kinda wine you got, red or white?”

–

They talked while they drank, slowly getting to know each other over sips of the chilled white wine that Brooke had pulled out of her fridge. At first, the conversation was awkward–work, the weather, whether or not Vanessa had had difficulty finding the place. But then Vanessa asked Brooke what had gotten her interested in arboriculture, and Brooke had perked up, and Vanessa knew she’d hit the money.

It was a pretty cliche story, actually. Brooke had grown up on a produce farm in Ontario, where her family had grown everything from apples to cucumbers to even daisies and sunflowers. But what Brooke had always loved the most was the peaches, or, more specifically, the trees that they grew on.

“It was always so quiet in the orchard, and the ground is always so much softer around trees. It was perfect for laying down and just thinking.” Brooke mused, taking a sip of her wine, “And it always smelled so good. Not just the fruit—the trees.”

“I know what you mean!” Vanessa cut in, bouncing on her chair, “Dry bark and all that shit, put that with the fruit smell and the leaf smell and it’s better than an orgasm or some shit.”

The minute she realized what she’d said, she reddened, her hands flying up to her mouth as if to remind her to shut it for once in her damn life.

If Brooke’s bemused expression was any indication, though, she didn’t seem to mind.

“Better than an orgasm, huh?” She cocked an eyebrow, her voice dropping low and taking on a seductive drawl as she teased, “You sure about that?”

“Dunno,” Vanessa breathed, the sudden awareness of who Brooke was and what they were hitting her in more than just her chest. “Should we test it out?”

Then Brooke’s lips were on hers, pressing down in a slow, inviting kiss that Vanessa found herself craning to keep going.

“What do you think, baby girl, should mommy take you to the bedroom?” Brooke muttered when they finally separated, bringing a hand up to Vanessa’s cheek to cradle it gently. Vanessa whimpered, then nodded.

“Yes, mommy, please.”

Without another word, Brooke scooped Vanessa up and carried her to bed, kissing her all the while. The minute Vanessa hit the mattress, her hands were up, clambering for any part of Brooke that she could reach, only to be pinned back down again.

“No, baby. If you want to touch me, you’re gonna have to prove you deserve it.” Brooke murmured against Vanessa’s lips, her grip tightening as she moved along Vanessa’s jawline, biting and sucking down to her neck. “Think you can do that for me?”

Yes, anything you want, I’ll do anything.

But when Vanessa tried to get the words out, they caught in her throat, coming out in only a breathless, strangled moan. Brooke laughed.

“Good girl. Now, what do you say we get rid of these pesky clothes?”

“Yes please.” Vanessa gasped as Brooke straightened up, letting go of Vanessa’s wrists in favour of the collar of her shirt, toying with her buttons in an almost mocking tease.

“Yes please, what?” Brooke hummed, bringing her fingers to a stop while she waited for Vanessa’s answer, grinned as Vanessa squirmed with impatience underneath her.

“Yes please, mommy.” Vanessa breathed out a sigh of relief as Brooke resumed her work, finally stripping Vanessa down to her bra and beginning to undo the buttons of her jeans. She stopped suddenly, though, once she had pulled down the zipper, a peek of Vanessa’s panties revealing themselves underneath.

“Frogs.” Brooke looked down and blinked, stunned. Vanessa followed her gaze, only to turn crimson red at what she saw.

In her rush to get ready that evening, after her shower, she’d grabbed the first pair of panties she could see in her drawer, without realizing that it was a pair covered in cartoon frogs.

“Oh my God.” Vanessa brought a hand up to hide her face, her chest practically caving in with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

Perfect, just fucking perfect–Brooke would probably think she was some frog-obsessed weirdo, would probably laugh at her for still wearing stuff that was so juvenile.

But when Brooke did laugh, it wasn’t mocking at all–rather, it was light and affectionate. “What for?” she mused, leaning down to give Vanessa a quick, fond peck on the lips. “It’s adorable.”

Thank God. Vanessa felt herself relax, all her tension leaving her as she exhaled deeply. Brooke, meanwhile, settled back down, a gleam of lust returning to her eyes as she brought Vanessa’s jeans down a little further, fully exposing Vanessa’s panties and giving her room to cup Vanessa’s cunt through the fabric.

“That being said,” she purred, kneading the area and grinding her palm into Vanessa’s clit, “As cute as they are, I do think they’re in the way, aren’t they?”

“Yes, mommy, so in the way.” Vanessa agreed with a shaky sigh, unable to keep her eyelids from becoming heavy under Brooke’s touch.

In no time at all, Vanessa’s panties had been discarded on the floor, leaving her cunt exposed for Brooke to begin playing with.

“I forgot how pretty your little pussy is,” Brooke mused, beginning to ghost her fingertips along Vanessa’s inner thighs, “And it’s all mine to play with tonight, lucky me.” she stopped just short of Vanessa’s vulva before trailing her fingers back down slowly, practically buzzing with a cruel sort of glee as she felt Vanessa shiver in the wake of her touch.

“Poor baby, you’re just aching for me, aren’t you, angel?” Brooke clicked her tongue, finally bringing a single finger to Vanessa’s slit and tracing her way up to just below the smaller girl’s clit, toying lightly with the area and smirking at how it made Vanessa go rigid.

“Please, mommy, please…”

“Please what?” Brooke batted her eyes with feigned innocence, adding another finger and finally easing them up to Vanessa’s clit before resting them there, pressed down but not moving. “Use your words, princess.”

“Please, oh fuck, please, mommy, please play with my pussy, please–”

“Good girl.” Brooke began to move her fingers in slow circles, and Vanessa felt herself melt into the touch, a wave of relief and pleasure washing over her and making her whole body feel light. Satisfied with the effect she had on the younger girl, Brooke leaned back down to take one of Vanessa’s nipples in her mouth, speeding up the pace of her circles and matching the pace of her fingers with her tongue.

Vanessa hardly remembered what happened next–a stream of words she didn’t hear herself say, a response from Brooke that she barely processed, a tenseness in her eyes as they squeezed shut against her orgasm, a feeling so intense that she could barely stand it. But stand it she did, for a second and third time before Brooke’s fingers finally let up, Vanessa’s eyes opening just in time to see Brooke licking Vanessa’s juices off her fingers with a satisfied smirk.

“Do you need a break?” Brooke checked in, climbing off of Vanessa long enough to plant a quick kiss on her cheek and scoop her into her arms. Vanessa shook her head.

“Alright then,” Brooke smiled with approval, straightening up and spreading her legs as if to invite Vanessa to settle between them. “Get to work.”

Vanessa wasted no time in moving where Brooke wanted her, kissing and sucking her way down Brooke’s body until she reached the taller woman’s clit, her heart soaring with excitement as Brooke sighed with contentment when her tongue finally came in contact with it. Vanessa began with slow, broad strokes, a tease that brought karma right back onto Brooke until her hand was knotted in Vanessa’s hair.

“Stop teasing, baby.” Brooke growled impatiently, pushing Vanessa’s face even closer to her cunt.

Well. If that was what Brooke wanted, who was Vanessa not to oblige? Laughing just a little against Brooke’s folds, she moved her tongue faster, honing in on the older woman’s clit and alternating between light, precise strokes with the tip of her tongue and deep, sucking kisses that left Brooke’s legs shaking on either side of Vanessa’s head.

Adorable.

“You like that, mommy?” Vanessa mused, drinking in her power with absolute pleasure as Brooke moaned loudly, unable to restrain herself from letting out a gasp when Vanessa sucked on her clit again, “You like when I suck you like that?”

“Yes, baby, yes I do…” Brooke gasped, her grip on Vanessa’s hair tightening still, pushing her even closer, begging for her to go even harder. Vanessa persisted, humming as she sped up her movements to a merciless pace.

Brooke came hard, her entire body seeming to lurch as Vanessa licked her through her orgasm, ceasing only when she felt Brooke’s hand drop heavily from its hold on her. When she moved up to Brooke’s level and settled into the crook of her arm, Brooke looked utterly sated, her cheeks flushed and covered in a thin sheet of sweat, her eyelids still hooded with residual pleasure.

“So, just curious,” Vanessa planted a slow, lingering kiss on Brooke’s cheek, her chest blooming with affection when Brooke sighed happily at the sensation, “We countin’ this as a date or what?”

“I mean, I was going to ask you out to dinner,” Brooke smiled sheepishly, turning to Vanessa and pulling her closer before returning her kiss, “But this works, too.”

Not for the last time that night, Vanessa thanked God that they both had the day off tomorrow.

[necromaniackat]

The Roommate and The Dream Journal

The Roommate and The Dream Journal.

BuckyxEliese(O.C)

Eliese has been having dreams of her friend and roommate and decides to start logging them into a dream journal. Bucky finds this dream journal and decides to confront Eliese about them.

Warnings: Angst. Smut.

Word count: 6,167

Note: I’ve binged on a lot of Bucky smut lately but the one person who got me into the mood to write this was @lucky-bucky-boy so go check her out and read her writing. It’s da bomb!

~~~~~~~

She shuddered at the feeling of his hands running up her thighs, spreading them from the warmth they radiated until the cool air rushed between them making goose bumps rise on her latté coloured skin. She felt his hot breath smother the fabric that sat in between his mouth and her pleasure. She sighed when she felt his lips press kisses and suckles onto her inner thighs, leading up to the hem of her baby pink underwear. A smile crossed his face at the adorability in the innocence she clung onto for dear life, but that childish innocence was going to become a trophy in his case and for her it was going to be replaced with something new. Something that'll leave her yearning for more from him which is something he desperately sought after.

Sensually slow, he pulled the baby pink cotton down her legs, letting his hooked fingers graze over her skin, making another wave of goose bumps rise up on her hot skin. Her head fell back, and she closed her eyes when his lips found her skin again, trailing up her inner thighs. He'd kiss one thigh then going to do the same on the other; his mouth marked her skin without any hesitation or care. Her breathing was slow but heavy; at times it hitched at the back of her throat with a high pitch whine, when he arrived back at the root of pleasure. She opened her eyes and REALIZED IT WAS JUST A FUCKING DREAM AGAIN!!!!

Eliese typed furiously, her keys clicked loudly to the high speeds she was reaching. She growled loudly, forcing herself to stop typing and revaluate what she was writing, why she was writing it and who she was writing it about. The 'what' is simple, Eliese was writing smut. The dirtiest and most detailed kind she could think of. It was borderline pornographic. The 'why' is where things get a little heated, she's been writing down her dreams to see if it'll help get rid of them because she doesn't want to be having them in the first place. The 'who' is where things catch on fire, she's been writing about her roommate and best friend, Bucky. She's not sure why she's been having these dreams about him, but she has. Luckily, he's away a lot with his job so he doesn't have to see the horny mess he leaves her in.

Eliese doesn't know why she's been having those dreams, but they've plagued her sleep for months now. It's affected her so much that Bucky thinks she doesn't like him because she's avoided him at all costs, but really, she's only avoided him because she doesn't trust herself around him. She actually started seeing a therapist to try and work out some of these issues. Her therapist thinks she should just tell him about the dreams but Eliese thinks that's crazier than the dreams she's having. She doesn't want to ruin her relationship with him because her shrink told her to come out of the horny closet. The alternative was to start an online dream journal. That she could do without any hesitation, but instead of making the dreams die down they've picked up the pace and steaminess. Before Eliese would have a dream once or twice every few weeks and it was never anything too dirty; just some heavy petting and making out, but once she started writing them down, they've occurred every night and are far more sexual than just kissing and foreplay. They've gotten more detailed too; she wakes up with the feeling of his body on hers. She can't shake it off.

Eliese sighed loudly, raking her fingers through her damp hair. She had to have a cold shower after waking up from the newest dream. The clock at the bottom right corner on the laptop read '3:40 a.m.', she was wide awake with no signs of going to bed anytime soon. So instead, she got up from loveseat she had inhabited for the better part of an hour and went towards the small bathroom to get dressed and brush her hair out of the damp snares and knots before it dried like that.

Bucky's ears perked up when he heard the bathroom door, on the other side of the wall by his head, close. He lifted his head off of the pillow and listened to the vent in the bathroom vibrating away. He knew Eliese was still up, when he got up an hour ago to go to the bathroom, he saw her sitting on the crème loveseat with her laptop on her lap, she was only wrapped up in a towel and her hair was wet. He didn't even hear her in the shower so to see her like that was a surprise to him. Bucky got up from his bed and went to his closed bedroom door, opening it enough to peek down the hallway to see Eliese's laptop sitting on the loveseat still. He was wondering what she was writing, he enjoyed reading what she wrote, especially the newer stuff he found online. One night when he had to borrow her laptop to look for something online, because his was charging after he forgot to plug it in before going on a mission, he saw her viewing history. It sparked his curiosity when he saw the link with the title 'What I Want Him to Do to Me'. After reading the first entry he wanted to know if there were more. So, once his laptop had a little bit of charge in it, he looked her up on that dream journal site and has read everything she's written so far. But he didn't know about the website until after he knew she was having wet dreams about him. He first found out one night when he heard her moaning in her sleep. He thought she was having a bad dream, so he went to go in to wake her up, only he found her on top of her covers with her hand in her pants, moaning his name seductively. This makes him wonder what she's dreamed he's done to her this time.

Quietly, he snuck out of his room and down the small, dark hallway to the brightly lit living room and grabbed the sleek black laptop from the loveseat and parked himself on the matching couch. He kept his ears peeled for Eliese whom was still in the bathroom, scolding herself for the dreams she's been having. His pale eyes scanned over the hundreds of words depicting the scene that played out behind her eyelids when she laid her head down to sleep earlier. He could feel his heart starting to race but his breathing stayed slow, coming out as heavy breaths. He had to adjust the laptop on his lap, shifting it over onto one leg. He still wasn't used to the effect her dreams had on him, and how badly he wanted to make these dreams come true.

While Bucky was busy getting lost in someone else's fantasies, Eliese stood in the bathroom mirror brushing her shoulder length dark hair. She stared at the dark circles forming under her eyes from the lack of sleep she's been getting. Every time she went to bed, she was afraid she'd have a dream; with every dream she has the less she trusts herself around him. When will she mistake reality for a dream? How long until she does something she'd only do in one of those dreams, in real life? How long until Bucky caught onto her dreams? What if he did catch onto her dreams and how they involve them? What then? Things will be awkward between them and she doesn't want that at all. So, she'll suffer in silence.

"Get a grip, Eliese. You don't actually want to bone him." She told herself, rubbing her face tiredly. She caught a glimpse of her exhausted state and couldn't help but laugh at herself. She shook her head and brushed her damp bangs from her face.

"Please, who're you trying to fool?" She asked herself seriously, even though she was still chortling at herself. She set her hair brush down on the counter and dropped the towel that was wrapped round her. The damp fabric pooled around her feet and the cool air conditioned air swept around her. She grabbed her small pile of clothes sitting in the corner of the bathroom. She pulled on a pair of silky fuchsia coloured shorts with purple and pink spots on them along with a white racer back tank top. She stole one last glance at herself in the mirror before she went to leave the bathroom, switching off the light as she left. Her stomach fell when she saw the laptop wasn't on the loveseat anymore. Her heart froze but it pounded against her breastbone furiously. But it calmed down when she saw it sitting on the coffee table in front of the chair. She must've put it there and forgot. She sighed heavily and sat down on the sofa this time, leaning back against the high rising armrest. She plunked the laptop down on her legs and went back to what she was doing, regretfully but lustfully.

Bucky peeked around the corner from the small kitchen area and saw her sitting there innocently typing away her sinister desires. His heart galloped at the knowing that he has no idea what she's writing about right now. She was writing about him and he knew that, but he couldn't tell what she dreamed he done to her. That is a mystery to the century year old male. His blood ran hot as he watched her intently, letting his mind go wild. He had learned a lot about what twenty first century women like in the bedroom from his friend’s journals and other things he’s found online late at night. At first, Bucky was mortified by what he saw, he had accidentally gone straight to the deep end of Pornhub one night, but slowly but surely, he discovered things he liked and didn’t know he liked until then.  

Without even thinking about it he let his sanity slip away as he strode over to the couch and sat down at his friend's feet. He kicked his foot up on the couch, stretching one leg out against Eliese’s while the other was firmly planted on the cool wood floor. He could see Eliese's pulse jumping in her neck as she stared wide eyed at him. She had butterflies moshing around in her stomach and all of the blood in her body ran red hot.

"What're you doing up?" She stumbled over her words, desperately trying to regain some balance in her voice. Bucky grinned at her blushing face and shrugged a shoulder.

"I had a strange but good dream; I woke up a little shaken and now I can't get back to sleep. What are you doing up?" He replied cheekily. Eliese's stomach turned at the thought of him having a strange but good dream. She wanted to know what he dreamed about. But then she realized he had asked her a question that she still had to answer.

"Ugh, same. I figured I'd get some writing done." She replied with an even voice that made her sound certain this time. She was proud of her vocal stability. She didn't want him thinking something was wrong.

"Can I read it?" Bucky asked with a cocked eyebrow and a sly smirk. Eliese jerked away from him, bringing the laptop closer to her chest.

"No." She snapped. She was a little shocked when she saw he was still calm. After a very long silent moment, he leaned forward, taking the laptop away from her deathly clutches and placing it on the coffee table again. She stared at him with oval shaped eyes and her jaw hung down a bit.

"We need to talk." The super soldier stated, taking her hand with his metal one and pulling her towards him. His touch seemed to have a magical effect on her; it sent shivers screaming up and down her spine and every thought in her head became hazy and distorted. She had no will to fight back or say otherwise. She let him pull her into his chest; he was still holding her hand firmly but not tightly. He rested his chin on the top of her head while she rested her back on his chest.

"Over the last couple of months I've noticed something change in you." He began, making her heart speed out of control. His metal hand left hers and went to the opposite shoulder; his arm was draped across her chest lazily. She closed her eyes and let him talk.

"You've become more confident in your work; you take pride in what you write now. Your confidence in yourself has skyrocketed as well." Bucky observed, settling into the conversation easily. He felt her hands curl over his forearms, lightly holding onto them, almost as a rock to keep her grounded in reality. He smiled weakly to himself.

"But you've also become more secretive and private. You don't show me anything you write anymore, not like you used to. You've also distanced yourself away from me. Why is that?" He asked, stroking her shoulder gently with his thumb. Eliese melted into his touch and bit her lip, sighing heavenly. She couldn't control herself, not right now. She was drifting into one of her dreams rapidly, not that she was complaining or anything. She enjoyed the dreams she was having very much. Even though she didn't want to have them, she was enjoying having them night after night.

"I didn't want you looking at me differently." She breathed softly. His mouth twisted into a smirk as his free hand lay on her thigh lightly. Bucky could see blush invade her cheeks brightly, it made his twisted smirk sharpen and broaden.

"Why would I look at you differently?" He questioned, knowing very well why she was scared he'd look at her differently. Eliese pursed her lips tightly, not wanting to tell him the reason. But her lips parted when she felt his hand move from her shoulder across her chest until the palm cupped around her small breast. The center of his palm brushed against her erect nipple. She gasped for air and tried to push her chest further into his hand. Bucky grinned to himself as brought his face down until it was nestled in the crook of her neck. The hand that was lying on her bare thigh lingered up her leg until it slipped through the loose pant leg of the silky shorts and nudged away the fabric concealing her. All of the air vacated her lungs in a loud gasp when she felt his finger slip between her lips and gently graze against the throbbing clit. She grabbed onto his thighs tightly, almost digging her nails into the fabric of his sweatpants. He grinned as he kissed and sucked her neck, feeling his own arousal growing and pressing against her lower back.

"Do you like that?" He purred into her ear gutturally, both of his hands were still working her sensitive areas. Eliese couldn't speak; all of her words were lost. She could only nod.

"Good." Bucky whirred lowly; he let his forefinger join his thumb in pleasuring her. He rubbed the throbbing nub between the two fingers and lightly pinched it. Eliese threw her head back onto his shoulder, bleating loudly. Her brow line tightened together.

"This is another dream, isn't it?" She asked out loud. She was sure this was another dream. She must've fallen asleep on the loveseat and not realized it. This cannot be happening.

"No." He paused. "–This is real." His voice was deep and low as he spoke into her hair. His response only made her mewl for more. At that very moment Eliese couldn't agree more with something she's been told all her life: It's not what you say, it's how you say it. Because how he spoke to her made her grip on his thighs tighten until there were bruises forming under the warm cloth. Bucky grinned evilly against her damp hair.

"Do you want me to stop?" He teased lowly. He stopped palming her breast through the white tank top. Eliese shook her head and rocked her hips into his hand, whining at the loss of stimulation her chest felt. His wicked smile stayed as his dancing fingers slowed to a snail's pace.

"You want me to stop? Okay." Bucky nonchalantly said, starting to pull his hand out of her pant leg. Her eyes snapped open immediately. Eliese's hands found his wrist, gripping it tightly. She groused and looked back at him with pleading dark eyes. Her dark gaze searched his blue orbs relentlessly.

"Please don't stop." Eliese couldn't help the tone of her voice. Bucky was surprised by her want . . . her need –her desire for him. He knew she was having those dreams and he knew she wanted those dreams to come true, whether she was willing to admit it or not didn't matter, it was true. And he was going to make those dreams come true.

The two of them stared at each other silently; the only sound that could be heard was their breathing. Eliese found herself slowly turning around to face him fully. She sat on her bent legs, between his widely spread ones. Her hands released his wrist and found either side of his face; her fingertips hesitated over his skin. The two magnetically pulled together until their faces were less than an inch apart. Their lips grazed against each other's lightly, the hot breath smothered their faces making their heart rates spike. Bucky's hands found the space between her shoulder blades and pulled her closer to him, her mouth crashed against his. Eliese's hands slipped by his head and gripped onto the armrest behind him. She wanted so badly to take control of the situation, but she wanted to see what he'd do to her. She wanted her dreams to finally come true.

Bucky's tongue pressed lightly at the part of her lips until she opened, and their tongues touched, heating up the kiss at a quick rate. He pulled away after a moment and looked down at her lap with a wicked smirk. His blue eyes met her dark ones again.

"I don't like these shorts on you. Get rid of them." He ordered in a low husky voice that made Eliese shudder in delight. She blushed at his command. But she recoiled off of the couch and slid the silk pyjama shorts down until they pooled around her ankles on the floor. Bucky looked up at her when he saw the galaxy coloured cheeky panties that were more black lace than cotton fabric and didn't hide that much. He cocked an eyebrow at her and shook his head.

"Where are those cute baby pink ones that you know I love so much? Now, these just won't do. You're gonna have to take them off." He spat out another teasing order that made her cheeks heat up again. She always knew he liked those ones, ever since he commented on them one day when she was folding her laundry in the living room and they tumbled down the pant leg of her jeans. To say she was a tad bit embarrassed would be an understatement, but Bucky was perfectly okay with the incident; it's not like he hasn't seen a pair of panties before.

Eliese grinned down at him and put her hands on her narrow hips, shaking her head.

"Ugh-ugh, not until you shed something." Eliese stipulated. She didn't want to give him all of the control; she wanted to tease him just as much as he can tease her. She turned on her heel and paraded down the hallway to the two bedrooms, knowing he was watching her walk away. He didn't leave her side for long, he got up from the crème coloured couch and jogged to the bedroom she chose, which was hers. He stood in the doorway and watched her closely, she quickly stripped the bed of the blankets until there was nothing but the olive coloured sheets and the pillows on the queen sized bed. His thumbs slipped into the band of the sweatpants and pushed them down until they lapped around his feet on the floor. The black tee shirt followed the sweats on the floor. The idea jumped into his head when he saw her kicking at the duvet in the corner of the small bedroom. He hastened his way from the doorway to where she was, grabbing onto her wrist and spinning her around, pushing her back against the wall roughly. He pinned her wrists above her head and pressed his body against hers. Bucky stared into her eyes, noting her pupils were dilating with stimulation and covetousness.

Eliese's chest heaved heavy breaths as she stood nose to nose with one of her most yearned desires. She hungrily bit at her bottom lip, scanning his face; it was merely centimetres away from hers. His hands stayed firmly wrapped around hers, pressing them into the dirty beige coloured wall.

"What are you gonna do to me?" Her voice was small and trembling with uncertainty. His mouth curled at the corners as he brought his face closer to hers, their noses touched lightly. Bucky could swear he could hear her heart hammering against her chest. Or maybe that was his own slamming heartbeat.

"Everything." He murmured lowly. His voice sounded so sweet against her ears. She swears if his voice had gone any deeper she would've collapsed she was that weak at the knees. But his hands holding her wrists above her head kept her steady on her feet. Her head reeled when his hips pressed against hers firmly. He felt the peaks of her hip bones grind against him. He pressed his chest so tightly to hers he could almost count her ribs. He closed the gap between them, reconnecting their lips heatedly. His tongue invaded her mouth without asking for entrance first, but she didn't mind. She sucked on his tongue teasingly before pushing hers into his mouth, running the tip along the roof of his mouth. It made his eyes roll behind his closed eyelids and moan into her mouth.

Bucky couldn't take much more of this foreplay; he needed to get inside of her at that very moment. He lifted up one foot and used his ankle as a hook around hers, and then used the other foot to do the same thing, spreading her legs so he could be trapped between them, and so he could further pin her to the wall. He pulled his mouth away from eager lips. They looked each other deeply in the eyes.

"I'm gonna let go of your wrists, you better keep them raised up above your head." He warned seductively, loosening his grip on her wrists to see if she could follow his demands. It took everything she had but she obeyed his command while his now free hands wandered down her torso and stomach to the hem of her underwear. It didn't take much for him to tear the fabric loose from concealing her away from him. She gasped but kept her hands raised above her head to satisfy him. The torn fabric tumbled to the ground between their feet. She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the wall.

Bucky's face found the crook of her neck, burying his mouth against her skin again. This time he sucked harder, relentlessly leaving dark bruises on her pale skin. The feeling of him sucking and nipping at the flesh on her neck distracted her from his other plans. He allowed his mouth to fall from her neck to her collar bone, his tongue tracing the hollowness that pooled between the bones, and then travelled down from there to her chest, getting annoyed by the white tank top in the way. Without even thinking about it his hands found the border of the shirt and flipped it inside out as he pulled it up above her head, throwing it somewhere behind him, leaving her fully exposed to him. He resumed back to kissing down her chest and stomach, paying attention to her erect nipples. He gnawed on them ruthlessly until a metallic taste filled his mouth; her nipples were angry red and oozing a scarlet liquid into his mouth. Even as his tongue flicked over the silver ends of the piercing she had, the fluid smeared over his lips and sank into his taste buds. She mewled unremittingly, her entire body trembled and withered between his sharp teeth, but she kept those hands above her head.

His mouth finally released those crying numb beads and moved down, leaving behind red lip prints on her pale skin. His ruby red lips kept pressing against her skin as he moved downwards, counting her ribs gently until he reached her navel then his tongue circled around the dimple before dipping in gently.

She smiled wildly and almost giggled with pleasure. Her elbows bent a bit, but she caught herself before lowering her wrists all the way.

Bucky felt her body trembling beneath his mouth; her breathing quickened and became shallow all because of him teasing her endlessly. He was sure that if he kept at this long enough she'd get off on just the foreplay. He grinned to himself, looking up at her. His blue orbs searched her body language and facial expressions, noting she was enjoying this attention he was giving her. He was pleased that not only were those videos entertaining, but educational as well. He owes a lot of his new love making skills to Pornhub.

His mouth slowly inched down her stomach, captivating the protruding hip bones with kisses and gentle nibbles. A trail of red led all the way down her torso, smearing darker in places he paid more attention to.

Finally, he came to the place she desperately wanted the attention to be adverted to in the first damn place. Bucky was knelt down in front of her, between her legs. He could see her knees were shaking and weak, to help her stay up he ran his hands up her thighs and held them firmly. Without any faltering he placed his mouth over her mound, his tongue slipping between her labia and delving into the damp warmth. Her breath hitched at the back of her throat in a sharp high pitch gasp. Bucky grinned to himself, sliding his tongue from her entrance to the front of her mound slowly. He enjoyed hearing her airy moans. But once he thought she was getting too comfortable with what he was doing, he stopped.

Bucky rose back up to his feet, looking down at Eliese, there was a dramatic height difference. His grin broadened when he saw her, head tilted back and eyes closed, still basking in the feeling of his mouth working her body. Bucky curled his hands around her narrow hips, his fingers pressed into the small of her back. He carefully peeled her away from the wall; her wrists were still suspended above her head.

Eliese couldn't comprehend what was happening until her body fell from the cool apartment air. Her eyes snapped open to find she was now lying on her back on the bed, facing the nicotine stained, and water damaged ceiling. She glanced down to see Bucky standing between her spread thighs; her legs were spread apart and bent over the edge of the mattress and he was between her bent knees. Her already racing heart seemed to skip beats at a time, like a flat stone on a calm lake surface, when his thumbs ran into the waistband of the black boxer briefs and pushed them down his legs, letting his arousal to spring free from confinement.

Bucky grinned from ear to ear when he saw a glimpse of apprehension flash across her face when she saw him for the first time. He turned his body to face the nightstand directly beside him; he glanced towards Eliese as he dug through her drawer, knowing there'd be a condom or two in there. He went snooping for a box of Kleenex one day and found a treasure trove of things he’s never seen before, condoms included, so that's how he knew they were there. Bucky tore open the silver package and applied the condom. His eyebrows drew together as he faced her again. He could still see the look of fear in her eyes.

"What's wrong? Do you want to stop?" He asked in a serious tone that made Eliese's dark gaze jump from his aroused manhood to those magnificent blue orbs. She wasn't sure if she should tell him or not, she was scared he'd laugh at her.

"No, I want to keep going. It's just; you're gonna be the first guy I'm gonna be with like this." She confessed, knowing he'd laugh at her like a mad man. She braced herself for the humiliation, closing her eyes and using her hands to hide her face. She was so humiliated by that fact. He's not the first guy she's wanted to sleep with but throughout her teens she was so scared of getting pregnant that she only ever dated girls. And since High School she hasn't really dated any guys long enough to do anything with them, and she doesn't do this whole wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am thing.

Bucky swears if she told him that when he was a teenager he'd have cum long before she even finished the sentence. He smirked and leaned over the edge of the bed, looming over her heated body. He gently pried her hands away from her face. Eliese's dark eyes opened and beamed up into his dimly. She was surprised when she saw acceptance and a considerate smile lightening his face dramatically. The soldier brushed the dark hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear gently. All of the air vacated her lungs loudly and her eyes widened when she felt him puncture her entrance gingerly. Her hands found his broad shoulders as he pushed the rest of the way in and dug her short nails into the pale flesh.

He stayed there for a moment, allowing her to adjust to him inside of her. He wasn't sure how long he'd last though, every time she breathed her muscles clenched around him, pulsing violently. Plus it’s the first time he’s had sex in over seventy years. It made his body twitch and spasm a little. He didn't want to hit heaven just yet, this was for her and her fantasies, it'd be rude if he got off first. He needed to make sure she got off first.

After a moment he pulled out only to push back in, making the smaller arch her back and gasp loudly. He hooked his metal arm underneath the small of her back to bring her closer to him while using the other one to keep him mildly upright. The stark contrast between Eliese’s overheated skin and the cold metal of Bucky’s arm underneath her made a whole new wave of sensations run wild through her tiny body.

He felt the individual ribs dig into his chest and stomach as he thrusted into the smaller female under him. Bucky stood upright, bringing her with him, angling her hips off the edge of the bed so he could easily infiltrate and beat her insides.

She rested her head against his chest, listening to their soft moans and loud breathing. She grinned to herself and let her mouth find his chest, collar and neck; kissing, sucking and playfully biting at the pale flesh. The little devil inside of her evilly smirked when she found the pale pink bead on his chest. She ran her tongue over it flatly, letting the tip linger over the bud. She felt powerful when she heard his moans as he drove his hard-on into her. She held the bud between her teeth gently, sucking and nibbling on it and making his moans become cries of pleasure. The gentleness he had initially set was sent out the window when she pinched it between her teeth a little harder, drawing some blood from the cherry red bead on his pallid chest. This made his gentle and cautious thrusts become animalistic and wild. And that only made her belt out louder screams of satisfaction against his chest. In the back of her mind she was surprised that she wasn't feeling a lot of pain, she was always told there'd be a lot of pain involved. Does it count if there's no pain? She felt a bit of pain in the beginning when he first entered her but that was it. It disappeared after that brief moment.

Eliese's mouth found the opposite bud on his upper body. She gave the small bead the same attention she did the other until it leaked a red cum down his chest and down from her mouth and chin. She lapped her tongue over the crying buds to nurse them from their angry red. Bucky's thrusts became sloppy but he tried to harden them and drive deeper into her. Eliese's toes curled when she felt him deep inside of her, almost striking her G spot.

"Oh, Bucky!" She bleated loudly into his chest cavity, her voice sounding like heaven against his ears. This was the encouragement he needed to hit harder and faster, punishing her insides and assaulting that special spot. Eliese's short nails penetrated the skin on his shoulders, drawing the same cherry fluid he did on her chest and she did on his. She could feel this untangling of a white fire inside of her gut. She was coming undone and it felt incredible. It made her wonder why she waited so long to be with a "real boy".

The moment she was sent over the edge it felt like that white ball of fire inside of her exploded, her muscles tightened around Bucky's beating manhood and she bit down on his collar, blaring uneven cries of pleasure. Her arms and legs wrapped around his body, trapping him deep inside her as her body shook violently from head to toe. This is all it took for his hard cock to cry uncontrollably, filling the end of the condom full. The warm fluid seeped around his hot skin, making him cum harder. His body was as stiff as a board, but his knees felt like cooked noodles. He collapsed on top of her on the bed, eyes tightly shut and jaw clenched forcefully.

"Ah, fuck." He drew those words out in a hiss that came out from between his teeth. It took them minutes after riding out their orgasms to finally be able to move away from each other. Bucky rolled over, landing on the bed beside her. They both panted heavily, they were sweaty, bloody messes. Eliese could only stare at the ceiling with a stupid grin on her face. All of the anxiety and stress she felt earlier was gone. She felt exhausted but in the best way possible. Bucky looked over at his roommate and grinned, reaching over and put the back of his hand against the middle of her torso.

"Was that better than you've dreamed about?" He asked curiously. Eliese's eyebrows furrowed and she looked over at her blue eyed roommate.

"You knew about that?!" She exclaimed loudly. Bucky immediately propped himself up onto his elbow and turned onto his side. He examined his smaller female friend with a gracious smile.

"You moaned my name in your sleep one night and then I mistakenly stumbled upon your dream journal." He chuckled airily, letting his fingertips lightly dance over her latte skin, raising Goosebumps without even trying. Eliese felt her face heat up with embarrassment. But the smile she wore was of happiness.

"How long have you known?" She questioned, arching an eyebrow at him. Bucky laughed lightly and shook his head at her.

"I've known long enough to know that I don't want this to be the last time we do this." He honestly enquired. Eliese's face glowed a bright red as she stared up at him, but her mind was busy with his dancing fingers on her stomach. An evil grin flashed across her face, her hands found either side of his face and brought it down until it was less than an inch away from hers.

"Then let's do it all over again." She purred at him, bringing his face down until their lips met again and the entire night was rewound right to the beginning of their events.    

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Man to Man

Author: Eggnogged & The_Reverend

Year: 2010

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Dean Learner/Todd Rivers

"Come on, sweetheart, a bit more enthusiasm? Fucking fake it if you have to, Christ. Good thing you've got some nice tits because you won't be getting anywhere in this business on your acting chops alone." The girl had been okay with the threesome. She’d taken Dean’s matter-of-fact bossy attitude in stride, she had only looked mildly annoyed when Dean had slapped her arse and told her to get on her knees. But that? That clearly strikes a nerve. Even Todd winces, his mouth stretching in a clear ‘yikes’ expression as the girl, a young aspiring actress whose name he doesn’t even know, stands up from between them, slaps Dean hard across the face, makes a quick grab for her discarded clothes, and walks out of the door, her high heels clacking loudly on the hardwood floor of Dean’s home office cum lounge. Dean looks unperturbed, just smirks a bit at Todd and rolls his eyes, as though this is the sort of thing that happens to him all the time. Which it probably does. Todd realizes he’s still got his own cock in his hand and quickly releases it, feeling a bit awkward. This is a new development in what’s becoming a regular tryst in Dean’s home, and now that the girl’s gone, it might not be deemed appropriate to keep on jerking off. But then Dean shoves his smoldering cigar between his teeth to free both of his hands, one of which lands on a huge television remote to unmute the porno that's been playing on the large television, the other goes to his groin naturally, to fondle his still spit-slick cock. So Todd takes up his own once again, following Dean’s lead and turning to face the television. Dean shrugs. "Fuck her," he says after he's removed the cigar again. It smokes unchecked in the hand not on his dick. "Well, not anymore." "That's why the skin business is so successful, Todd, manic fucking birds like that, can't take a bit of criticism. It's no wonder I'm in a multi-million dollar industry. Look at her," He points to the screen and Todd realizes he'd been watching Dean the whole time. There’s a blonde with big, red lips getting fucked between her enormous tits and she's moaning like a cock on her chest is what she always wanted as a little girl, rather than a pony. Dean continues, "She knows how to take it. Criticism, I mean. She isn't gonna be offended if you tell her faster, wetter, bit more ball fondling. She isn't gonna get up and strop off as long as there's a dick left standing, you know what I mean?" Todd nods but he's only half listening. His gaze had abandoned Dean's perfect woman not long after landing on her, and now they're cut painfully to the side, watching as Dean alternates rhythm, stroking himself between his open fly. Both of them are half undressed, shirts open where the girl had giggled over the curls on Dean's chest, and had pinched at Todd's sensitive nipples. But somehow, where Todd feels disheveled and awkward, Dean looks a treat, pressed and wrinkled in all the right places, long and lean, thick and hard. And warm, so warm even though they're not quite touching, close enough for Todd to smell Dean's aftershave. “You need a thick skin if you want to make it in this business, she’s going to learn that pretty sharpish – she’ll come crawling back soon enough. They all do, in the end. You can take yourself as seriously as you like, talk about your ‘art’ and your ‘career’, but in the end it’s all about sex, Todd. These projects of Garth’s, they’re good, nice for your public image. But they don’t bring in the money. Fucking, on the other hand! Fucking always brings in the money.” It surprises him, this comfortable monologue, not that Dean's ever been anything but comfortable talking about sex. Todd knows too well that Dean can describe, with graphic if not exactly poetic detail, every nipple, arse and snatch of his acquaintance. “Yeah,” Todd says, and turns his head just a fraction, so he can take in Dean’s wet lips, swollen from kissing that girl, and the way the muscles of his forearm move under his smooth skin as he jerks himself off, an image a million times more appealing than any porno in the world. Dean doesn’t seem to notice where Todd’s attention is focused, his eyes still on the Technicolor pink flesh jiggling on the screen. “I’ve told you before, Todd, if you’re ever in need of more work, all you gotta do is ask. I’m sure I can find a place for you in one of my productions.” Dean turns to glance at Todd as he says it, and it’s too late to look away, too late to pretend he hasn’t been staring. But Dean just smirks, undaunted, and raises an eyebrow. He moves his arm to give Todd a clear view of his cock, angling his hips just so, putting on a bit of a show. “Of course, that might not be to your tastes. That’s alright. I’ve been considering branching out. I hear there’s a big market at the moment for upscale gay porno.” Dean turns his gaze back to the screen, not waiting to see how his comment lands, just keeps his hand moving steadily in an easy, practiced rhythm, and takes a long drag off of his fat cigar, his lips wrapped tightly around the end of it. He has to know the images that the gesture immediately conjures in Todd’s brain, it has to be deliberate. Todd licks his lips and his mouth suddenly feels very dry. It seems useless to try to be covert about it now. But even as he feels himself flush and look away, and back again when it's invited (and because he just can't not look), he's surprised by this easy acceptance. Fear of looking another man in the eye or not, Dean's a ladies' man through and through. Todd expected name-calling, red-faced accusations, being tossed out on his arse should his eyes wander from the girl's tits to Dean's cock for too long. It's why he agreed to this little party, why this isn't their first, why he's so hard he can't think straight. All for Dean, whos’s stroking himself like an offering, not like he's actually trying to get off, and sucking on his cigar like he can't get his fill and letting the smoke drift lazily from the sides of his mouth where he smiles around it. "Or have I got it wrong?" Dean asks, cigar in hand again, but Todd can tell from the smirk that he knows he hasn't. "Dean," Todd says even though he doesn't really know what he's going to say, and it doesn't matter once Dean settles a little deeper into the sofa cushions beside him, stretches and spreads those endlessly long legs invitingly. He isn't looking at Todd, he's watching his dick where he fondles it easily, teasingly, a show, and when Todd thinks he's going to burst with wanting, Dean finally cuts his eyes over and smiles. "Don't you want to finish what she started?" ______ It isn't like this is Dean's first blowie from a bloke, though those encounters usually don't extend past the casting couch, young kids he doesn't plan to hire anyway. It's a little more delicate when he knows he's got to turn around and work with them the next day. But he has always wondered about Todd's full-lipped mouth, pouty like a woman's, like it was made for sucking cock. He reckoned from the first scene they'd shot with Madeleine Wool and Todd together that the guy might be a bum jockey, but he hadn't really been sure until the first of their little group activities, feeling Todd's heavy-lidded eyes more on him than the girl they were both fucking. And even if the girls have always done their best to get Dean off, brought their finest work to the table, their determined seductions never get Dean going like the barely concealed lust in Todd's hungry, secretive gaze. It’s that desire that gets him. Dean is not an idiot, he knows that most of the girls who throw themselves at him do it because of his status. Todd, however, Todd clearly doesn’t give a shit about Dean’s money. He’s not trying to get a part in one of Dean’s productions, he’s not trying to get one of his books published, he’s not doing it to get to some other celebrity of Dean’s entourage. He’s doing it because he loves cock, pure and simple. There’s something attractive about that kind of honest desire, and Dean is not above encouraging it, or even using it to get off. It’s gratifying, the way Todd nearly swallows his own tongue at Dean’s invitation and he watches Todd’s eyes flick back and forth between his face and his crotch, where Dean’s fondling himself lightly, not enough to get off but just enough to keep Todd interested and remind him of what’s on offer. “Dean…” Todd repeats, choking on the word. He looks hesitant and disbelieving and eager all at once, and Dean is put in mind of a dog being presented with a juicy steak, eyeing its master like it can’t believe it’s actually going to be allowed to eat it. “Well, don’t you? Because it would only take me two minutes to get another girl who can get the job done, if you’d rather just sit there and stare at my dick.” That’s all it takes for Todd to scramble off of the sofa and onto his knees. There’s something a bit pathetic about his eagerness, but something quite satisfying about it, too. “You’re not going to tell anyone about this, will you? Because my career—” That’s cute, the way he asks it. Naïve. Todd should know that most men will say anything if it means they might get a blow job out of it. No, Dean probably won’t tell anyone about it, but it’s nice knowing he could. Knowledge is power, and Dean likes power. “You have my word, Todd, but fucking get on with it.” ______ Todd’s head is a bit swimmy and he’s sure he’s sweating, kneeling between Dean’s spread legs, and with permission no less. He swallows, keeps his gaze down lest Dean spook from the intimacy and deny him after all. But oh, there’s plenty to look at down here. He can’t help but run his hands along the expensive fabric of Dean’s trousers, to feel the warmth of him beneath them. He tugs at the material, meaning to pull them down a little more and Dean lifts his hips a bit to accommodate, until Dean’s naked to his upper thigh. Dean has amazing legs, Todd’s always appreciated that, and they’re as good or better up close, dotted with dark hairs, hot where the insides of his thighs, his knees, nudge at Todd’s sides. There's a smear of red lipstick halfway up Dean's shaft and Todd frowns at it, but tries to put it out of his mind. It’s too good, being surrounded like this, by Dean, the feel, the smell (expensive cologne, cigars, and a hint of ladies’ perfume) and—Todd thinks as he licks his lips and watches the way Dean strokes himself lazily—the taste. Oh God, if anyone knew just how much he wanted this, that he was doing it, on his knees for Dean Fucking Learner… Well, honestly, it’s not like he’d be the first. "Are we getting on with this sometime soon or have I got to fish out another VHS? You haven’t got to fall in love with it, Rivers, just put it in that rosy little mouth and suck it, alright?” Todd gives him a withering look and Dean just smiles. "Go on," the bastard says, "don't pretend you won't even if I insult you, not like that bird. I could call you a queer if I want, a cocksucker. Cause you are one, aren't you, Todd? Why don't you earn it already." It's not that Dean's words don't sting, and it's not that Todd doesn't want to prove him wrong (at least about walking out), it's just that he's not sure he'll ever have the chance again. So he motions Dean's hand away with a nod of his head, buries his fingers in the warm, pressed fabric of Dean's tailored shirt, and licks his (rosy, he thinks) lips. Dean’s cock waves heavy and low and Todd only has to raise up a little to slide his lips over the head, teasing slowly and sucking luxuriantly, pleasure as vengeance. Dean coos something appreciative that might be "nice form" but Todd can hardly hear it for the rush of blood in his head, loud in his ears, and fucking aching in his cock. It's worse (better) still when warm fingers touch his face, surprising him. "Bit more," Dean says softly, "there's a lad." His fingers leave Todd's face to wrap around his erection, offering Todd more, and Todd follows those fingers defiantly, past that line of lipstick, taking Dean in suddenly and deeply. Dean hisses sharply. He tastes slightly of expensive champagne and strawberries and Todd knows it's from the girl, so he sucks more wetly, backs off enough to swallow, trying to rinse the taste away, wanting only the taste of Dean. The weight and the thickness are perfect on his tongue, filling his mouth, and Todd hums, feeling drunk on the sensation. He fucking loves this, craves it, and Dean is right, of course, he’s a queer, a cocksucker – and a bloody good one, at that. ______ The kid's mouth is better than he thought, and there's nothing like a queer for sucking cock. You can’t buy that kind of genuine enthusiasm, and Lord knows he’s tried. On the television screen, the big-breasted girl is on her knees too, her mouth similarly occupied. Dean takes a second to admire the angle of the shot – it was one of his best hiring decisions, getting that particular cameraman – before reaching between the sofa cushions to grab the remote control. The music and the moans coming out of the speakers are bit distracting, so Dean mutes the porno again. The wet sucking noises that Todd is making around his cock suddenly seem amplified tenfold in the silent room and it sounds filthier and grittier than any porn soundtrack. Dean slides his fingers into Todd’s carefully coiffed hair, gripping tightly enough to pull at Todd’s scalp, and the lad moans loudly around Dean’s cock, his eyes snapping up to meet Dean’s gaze. He’s pretty enough, young Rivers, with his full lips and his shiny hair, and he’s popular on set, the girls like him. They might not like him as much if they saw him now, like this, on his knees with his mouth full and his eyes glazed over. But then, maybe they’d like him all the more for it – it certainly makes for a pleasing visual. Dean tightens his grip in Todd’s hair to make him moan again, barely managing to suppress a groan of his own at the resulting vibrations. He smiles, his lips parted, and shifts his hips up a bit, driving his cock a bit deeper into Todd’s mouth. Todd just takes it, greedy and eager, swallowing around him, and fuck, it’s been too long since Dean’s had head like this – he almost regrets all those threesomes, all those wasted opportunities with ditzy girls who were worried about smearing their lipstick when he could’ve had Todd, who deepthroats like he was born to do it. “My, you’re a natural, Todd,” Dean says, a bit breathless, a bit dizzy. “Never mind the –ah, there! Fuck. Never mind the acting, sucking cock is clearly your true calling.” ______ Todd wishes he wasn’t so fucking turned on by the praise but he is, so much, reveling in each word of encouragement, each twitch of Dean’s thigh under his clammy fingers, each ripple of Dean’s smooth stomach. Todd aches to touch himself, but he won’t allow himself the relief, not yet. He wants to make this the best blow job of Dean’s entire life. He wants to make sure that each time Dean looks at him from now on, he’ll remember this moment, remember how hard Todd made him come. He pulls back a bit so he can suck on the head of Dean’s erection again, swirling his tongue to taste the pre-come there and eliciting a stuttered gasp from Dean. Emboldened by the sound and the increasingly erratic rhythm of Dean’s breathing, Todd reaches a hand in between Dean’s legs to cup his balls, rolling them gently between his fingers and Dean gasps, grips Todd’s hair tighter, rolls his hips and pushes Todd’s head down hard to take him deep again. Todd goes willingly, with a moan and what little smile he can manage with a mouth so full, slides his free hand back to Dean’s arse, plenty of room to get at it the way Dean’s lifting his hips to fuck his face now. It’s just this side of brutal and Todd loves it like this, with his mouth full one second, nose pressed into pubic hair, and near empty the next, cheeks hollowed out, and again, with Dean’s fingers tight in his hair, directing the pace. This is so much more than he expected. So much better. The sounds Dean’s making throb like a bassline in his groin, and Todd wonders if could come just from the invisible caress of them if they did this long enough. So he’s almost sorry when Deans starts swearing breathlessly, aimlessly, “Jesus fuck, Todd, cunting Christ,” then seems to stop breathing altogether, cants his hips up hard enough to bump Todd’s nose a little too hard and Todd’s eyes water. He’s blinking and swallowing and groaning around Dean as Dean comes so deep in his throat Todd doesn’t even taste it. A shame, he thinks. ________ There’s funny shapes behind his eyes he’s got them closed so tight, and yet all Dean can see is the perfect vision of Todd’s mouth sliding down his shaft. He hasn’t come like that since… well since that hummer he got at the racetrack during a test run, but that had ended in tragedy and so it probably didn’t count. Apart from that, though, not since before he got into the business, when he was still a hopeful young buck, too optimistic and too trusting. When he comes down from the high of it, it’s to the slightly uncomfortable sensation of Todd backing his mouth off of him, sucking at Dean’s head one last time, to taste him, Dean thinks, even as he hisses at the contact to over-sensitive skin. The girls never linger that way. Dean’s still got a hand in Todd’s hair and there are fingers stroking hot against his backside when Todd sits back and looks up at him, half guilty, all need, mouth swollen and red at the corners. In spite of that, Dean can’t help but feel like the kid got the better of him, making him come so hard, carry on so foolishly. He smiles a little, then moves one hand to Todd’s mouth to trace those plump red lips. “You loved, that, didn’t you? This must be getting you so hard, Todd, the proverbial oaken staff, eh? You must be soaking your knickers wanting it. Maybe next time we’ll invite that Monkey Boy you liked so much.” Todd backs away as if he’s been burned, eyes narrowing, “How the fuck do you—” “I can assure you, Todd, if anything worth knowing happens on set, it finds its way to my ears sooner or later.” Dean had been holding on to that bit of information for a while now, about the time he’d caught a glimpse of the Monkey Boy and Todd sucking face, with their hands in each other’s hair and down each other’s trousers behind Dean’s garage. One never knows when these tidbits of information will come in handy, and it was worth keeping that one to pull it out now, if only to extinguish the smug glint in Todd’s eyes. Now that he feels like he’s back in charge, Dean feels better about leaning back against the sofa and pulling his trousers up, tucking himself in. Todd’s looking at him like he’s not sure whether he should be angry about how Dean is toying with him, or further aroused by the prospect of a repeat performance. “You’re a fucking rat bastard, Dean, you know that,” Todd says in a tight voice, pushing himself to his feet. The former, then. Todd’s even beginning to pull his trousers up, like he’s actually intending to walk out of the room with a throbbing erection concealed in his pants, and Dean feels something a bit like regret. A bit like pity. So instead of laughing, he grabs Todd’s wrist and gives it a slight tug. “Oh, don’t sulk, Rivers. We’re friends, aren’t we?” “Are we?” “Of course we are. Let’s not let a little blow job between mates ruin a long-lasting friendship. Sit down.” Todd’s still frowning, but it’s easy enough to guide him back to the sofa so they’re sitting side by side, thighs touching. He won’t meet Dean’s eyes anymore, fixating instead on the television, watching it with a blank expression. Dean knows that this scene involves two girls in schoolgirl outfits, but he’s not really paying attention to that. He’s seen it all before. But he’s never seen Todd quite like this, with his lips parted and his hands twitching by his sides, his cock heavy and damp with precome against his stomach. He looks on the verge of self-combustion but he’s waiting for… what? For permission? For Dean to blow him in return? Dean’s not willing to reciprocate quite to that extent, but he can and does take Todd’s hand, clammy and tense, and direct it to Todd’s straining erection, encouraging, dictating the rhythm. Todd’s eyes slide shut with a groan that’s almost a sob, his head falling forward. “That’s it, that’ll make you feel better,” Dean says softly, withdraws his hand and rests it instead against Todd’s thigh, a little offering. Dean leans back against the cushions, returning his attention to the porno on screen. He turns the volume back up so he has something else to focus on other than the sounds of Todd wanking off next to him, and gives Todd’s thigh a little pat and a slow, steady rub with his thumb. _________ Dean’s hand on Todd’s thigh burns like fire and feels heavy and huge with his eyes closed, concentrating on that little contact. They’ve touched more than this while fucking one of Dean’s girls but somehow this, that hand so near his dick—harder than he’s ever been in his life, he’s sure of it—is so much more intimate than a shared fuck, than passing glittering, smug grins over a smooth shoulder and blonde hair. “I feel sorry for you, Todd, that I don’t suck cock,” Dean says in that soft tone of his that goes a little deeper than his usual speaking voice and Todd can’t help but lean into it. “Not to say I haven’t before, mind.” The hand on his thigh inches higher, teasing, tickling lightly and Todd’s so close. “You don’t get to where I am in this business…” So goddamned close that a moan catches in his throat and he throws his head back as Dean’s long fingers squeeze at his thigh. “…without a bit of spunk on your face now and then.” That clinches it. Todd’s orgasm hits him like a wave and he’s shouting, undignified and unrestrained as he comes over his own hand, stomach and shirt, with such a flood of relief it’s like being caught from a near deathfall and yet falling anyway, all at once. The girl on screen is shouting too, a couple of octaves higher but it still makes Todd feel a bit foolish as he tries to catch his breath and Dean pats his leg again, sort of friendly and says, “See? That’s the medicine. Feeling better already, aren’t we?” Todd turns to him, head lolling on the couch, mouth dry and useless, to see Dean smiling and smoking that damned cigar once again, looking smug and energetic and fucking perfect. He tries to give Dean a disgusted look but it feel more like adoration and Dean just winks at him, nudges Todd’s shoulder with his own. “I’m feeling like a drink, Todd. How ‘bout you? Gin? Whiskey? Or maybe after that, you’re more in the mood for a cocktail.” He laughs at his own joke, sounding pleased, and with that he stands, adjusts himself somewhat elaborately in his trousers, then practically dances off to the bar to fix them both a drink. “Just a beer, thanks.” Todd hates that he watches that pinstriped arse as he tucks himself away. As a consolation, he pulls the handkerchief from Dean’s coat to clean the ejaculate from his stomach and shirt, then stuffs it back into Dean’s coat pocket before Dean comes back with their drinks. Then, really, it’s like any other time they’ve sat on Dean’s sofa sharing drinks, watching porn or discussing business. Still, even the beer he’s gulping can’t quite erase the sense memory of having just had Dean’s cock in his mouth. For Dean, though, it seems to be business as usual. Todd is only half-listening as Dean gives director’s commentary on the film that’s still strobing garishly on the television screen. He tries to ignore the sick feeling growing in his stomach. When he finally gathers up the courage to leave, Dean accompanies him to the door and leans against the door jamb, watching Todd put his coat on. Dean’s shirt is still open and there’s lipstick smeared near his collarbone, but he seems unaffected, perfectly at ease. Clearly it takes more than a one-off blow job from a male colleague to ruffle Dean Fucking Learner. That’s it, then, Todd thinks, that’s the end of that – but as he’s about to walk out the door Dean surprises him with a touch on the shoulder and a quirked smile. “Drop by next weekend, Rivers. Maybe I’ll have someone here that’s more to your tastes, next time. Maybe we’ll make it into a little party.” “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dean.” But just looking at him there, all long and lean, with his lazy smile and his dark, knowing eyes, Todd already knows he’ll be there. “Well, you know where I live, should you change your mind. See you tomorrow, Todd.”