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stormkobra-5 · 2 years ago

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Red Handed, Part 1

Pairing: Steven Grant/Mr. Knight x fem!Reader (Mentions of Marc Spector/Jake Lockley x Reader)

Fic Type: One-Shot Series

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Moon Boys Masterlist]

Summary: Porn without plot, basically. Steven shows you a side of him you rarely see.

A/N: Based off of an idea from @johnny-simpfinger and the responding fic from @marc-spectorr. You two have awakened some things in me, thank you. Yes I wrote this in a day no I am not ashamed and I will not be unless Oscar Isaac himself sees this (The title was originally supposed to mean something like they almost get caught, buuuut, I lost it :/)

Rating/Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, NSFW under the cut, exhibitionism (no one sees/hears/is aware), semi-public sex, rough sex, dom!Steven, glove play, weapon play (those batons are put to nasty uses), fingering, oral (f receiving, although there’s some dirty mimicry happening in place of a strap-on), unprotected PiV, edging, powerful orgasm, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, excessive praise from the one and only Steven Grant, lots and lots of nasty nasty things going on under the cut

“Aw, love...” Steven cooed, as if he wasn’t totally wrecking you, “You alright? Do you need me to slow down?”

Slow down. Pfft. As if he wasn’t already going far too slow.

It wasn’t like you’d meant for his to happen when you and Steven went out tonight. But goddamn, those thugs had been a rowdy bunch and Mr. Knight had to put them in their place. You can’t help it that your boyfriend’s hot as fuck on top of it.

He’d seen you drooling over him; perhaps quite literally. So when he— given a boost of confidence in the suit, even with his mask off— suggested, “You need me to take care of you here, little dove? I’ll make sure nobody sees, sweet thing.”

And he’d held true to that.

He has you backed up against a cold wall in an alleyway. The streets of London are quiet in this part of the city, save for the occasional car that drives by. From the way he’s standing, it could be mistaken for two people conversating privately. Nobody can see the fact that while his right hand braces you, his left is up your skirt, fingering you to pieces.

With his glove on.

Though he’d taken the time to remove his mask, he hadn’t felt the need to remove his gloves. The soft fabric is creating a new, electric kind of friction that’s nearly painful, but the extra sensitivity it’s causing when he brushes up against your clit is all but heaven itself.

If only he’d go faster.

He has two fingers buried inside your heat up to the knuckle, crooking them just right at that glorious angle that makes you see stars— but ever so slowly. He pushes them in at a snail’s pace, praising you at the obscene wet sounds emanating from between your legs, before slowly curling them inside you, pressing against your walls. When you bite back moans and whimpers, he gently shushes you, pressing loving kisses to your temples. His arm is wrapped around you, keeping you standing, while his free hand grips your waist.

“Move your hips, sweet thing,” He whispered, and you eagerly started to grind against his palm. He chuckled in your ear, kissing your forehead. “That’s it, there you go. Tell me when you’re close, yeah?”

You don’t need to. He quickens the pace of his fingers, pumping them in and out of you and rubbing your clit until you’re shaking, dripping, until you’re being pulled apart from the inside out and you’re going to literally be crushed from the force of your orgasm—

And then he stops. Steven withdraws his hand and rests it on your stomach, frozen save for the iron grip he has you in to try and halt the rocking of your hips on thin air. “Easy, dove. Easy. Please don’t cum yet.” It sounded so polite, so sweet, so soft. How could you refuse him when he’s asking so nicely?

So you hold back. Every fiber of your being is focused on holding back your euphoria, equivalent to an old wooden fence stopping floodwater. You very nearly do cum, crying out in your struggle so that Steven has to capture your lips in his to muffle it.

Finally, it’s over. Your hips stop moving, but your body feels too hot and shaky. You’re on fire. You’ve been electrocuted. You’re spontaneously combusting. “S-Steven...” You whine, desperate for him to provide the relief he let escape.

“Shh,” He coos with a chuckle, glancing around to ensure nobody heard you. His dark eyes lock on yours. "Are you past it, sweet thing?" When you give the barest resemblance of a nod, he leans down to nip at your ear, breathing a question so lightly you barely hear him. "Can I taste you?"

You're glad you're not on the edge anymore, else he'd have just sent you way over it with his words alone. Your brisk nod is all he needs to get to knees and push your legs apart, hooking one over his shoulder and holding onto it by the thigh tight enough to leave bruises. The chilly night air on your swollen heat masks you gasp; you do it a second time when he blows warm air on your clit. “Don’t cum until I tell you to, alright? You gonna be a good girl for me?”

Weakly, you whimper and nod your agreement. Steven doesn’t give you any more warning before he pushes your skirt up with his free hand, diving straight between your legs. His grip on your skirt is a tight fist against your stomach, which he breaks just enough to hold your hand when you silently ask by dropping it down to rest on his knuckles. You tangle your fingers in his damp curls, pulling enough to make him actually growl and nip at your sensitive folds in warning. He’s lapping at you mercilessly, sucking your clit and grazing his teeth over its swollen surface. He places open-mouthed kisses there before licking anywhere he can reach. His fingers leave your thigh to grip your hips, helping you grind against his face however you want— no, need to. Your fingers tighten their hold in his hair, and, then, he has it. He’s reached that threshold of pleasure again within you, brought you to the edge of a steep cliff and showing you the view of the deep lake below. All you have to do is jump.

“Don’t, love,” Steven moans into you, knowing your body well enough by now to understand just how close you are. “Don’t. Not yet.” He leaves your sweltering sex— but not without dragging his tongue up your slit, groaning deep in the back of his throat at the taste of you. You almost— almost— cum anyway, his gorgeous sounds nearly pushing you into that ecstasy without your consent. Steven stays right where he is, holding your hips and watching you with big lust-blown eyes and waiting to see if you’ll do as he says.

It’s an effort to draw away from the scorching fire in your lower stomach, an effort not to throw yourself into that pleasure anyway. But you do it. Because of him. For him. He asked you nicely. His beaming smile when he sees you’ve climbed down from your near-high makes your heart pound for a wholly different reason. He rests his chin against your leg for a second as he peers up at you, smoothing your skirt. “Good girl. I knew you could do it, love. So proud of you, pretty girl.”

Steven massages your inner thighs. “Such a good girl. Such a pretty girl. All for me, yeah? You’re not such a good girl for Marc, are you? Or Jake? Is that why they have to tie you up sometimes, darling? So you behave?” Your breathless nod makes him chuckle, the sound reverberating through your core. “Aw, poor darling. You can hold out just a bit longer, yeah? I don’t want you to cum yet.”

A flick of his wrist, and you see the shiny reflection of one of his batons. Good lord. You’re going to die here. Your own boyfriend is going to kill you via edging and you’d die a happy but frustrated woman. “Steven,” You grind out, hips trying to rock desperately and find any friction they can.

Steven tuts, running the cool metal of his baton up and down your inner thigh, making you shiver. “Behave, love. I don’t want to have to tie you up. I’ll take care of you, I promise. Just gotta open you up a bit more, yeah?”

Wait— is he— fucking— oh god—

He kisses your leg, peering up at you in question. “Is... Is this okay?”

“Y-yeah,” You squeak, not entirely clear-headed.

Steven continues his back-and-forth ministrations of the baton on your leg. “You need to tell me immediately if I go too far, dove. Promise me?”

“I-I promise.”

Steven readjusted his hold on you, sliding his baton higher, and higher, until he was able to run it through your dripping folds. You shudder at the sensation of the ice cold metal on your heated, tortured skin, and then cry out too loudly when he starts to gently slip it into your entrance. “Sh,” He whispers, massaging your leg over his shoulder. His eyes are between your legs, a blissed-out grin on his face as he watches the way your cunt devours the baton, inch by inch, until it’s bumping up against something devastating inside you. He pauses for a second, glancing up at your face to determine if he should continue. Your slack-jawed expression, eyes rolled back, is enough for him to drag it back, slowly, before gently thrusting it back in.

Steven kisses your inner thigh, biting and sucking and leaving marks as he rocks the baton in-and-out. “That’s it, there you go.” Your hips automatically try to rock despite the uncomfortable stiffness of the weapon, making Steven chuckle. “You like that? Just like that?” Using his goddamn baton, Steven slowly, slowly fucks you to the brink of annihilation yet again, until you’re writhing and moaning so loudly that it’s clear all propriety has left your head. You could care less if anyone walked by right now, or hell, even came into the alleyway. You wouldn’t even realize they were there, so absorbed in the sensation of stopping your orgasm and Steven Steven Steven.

“So good for me, sweet thing,” Steven praises as he pulls the length of the baton from your drenched sex, smirking when he sees it glistening in what little light there is. Your chest heaves for air, and your whole lower half is cramping from the built-up of tension. You really don’t think you can take anymore, no matter how nicely he asks. He brings the baton up to his mouth horizontally, and you gasp erotically when he licks the length of it, cleaning it of your juices thoroughly. His eyes flick up to lock with yours, feeling you watching him; he smirks, turning the baton and sucking on the end of it. Without breaking eye contact. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t moan obscenely loudly. He knows you love that look on his face— it’s been awhile since you’ve used a strap-on for him, and you’re regretting that immensely.

When he finally pulls away— not without dragging his tongue along the bottom of the baton— his smirk is even wider. “I’ve got an idea, love, if you’re up for it.” He takes your weak whimper as a sign of acceptance, slipping one end of the baton up between your legs so that it rubs wonderfully against your swollen clit. He presses your thighs together to hold it there, so that one end sticks out like... like...

“Just like your strap-on, love,” he breathes, against your legs, “Just not as secure.” You’re surprised when he stands up, slipping off his jacket. “Look at you, dove. So pretty for me.” He drapes his jacket over your shoulders to shield you from the chill, buttoning it a little to keep it secure on your shoulders. He rolls up his sleeves, revealing his powerful forearms— you half wonder if he gets some of his definition from holding you down.

He kneels down again, holding you steady by an arm wrapped around your knees and his bent leg acting as a balance for you. He kisses your hip bones, delivering kitten licks the closer he gets to the baton. “S-Steven,” you whine, and he responds immediately.

He wraps a hand around the baton and pulls it down a bit, making it grind against your pulsating heat. An explosion of pleasure ripples throughout your body at the sensation of the metal against your sensitive flesh. You clench around nothing, causing your essence to trickle down the baton. You see the moment his eyes light up, when he licks his lips and kisses your hip. “Silly girl, I just cleaned that.”

Keeping a firm hold of the baton, he takes it in his mouth as far as it can go, sucking your juices off with a satisfied hum. Steven pulls back-and-forth with his head and hand, making sure that every drag of the baton across your clit makes you see stars. He doesn’t break eye contact as he sucks in his cheeks, twisting the baton against you so hard you cry out, grasping for his shoulders, his hair, anything to hold on to. You’re not sure where he got so good at sucking fake dick, and honestly you wonder if he practices with your strap-on when you’re not home. What’s worse is what you can’t see, but you can feel: he’s grinding his crotch against your leg with slow, sensual circles of his hips, trying to give himself some relief while staving off his own orgasm.

He pulls away just as you start to feel your climax approaching, licking his lips and feeling the need to “clean” the baton again before making it disappear. “So good for me, dove. You’re so sweet. The best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He stands, steadying you against him. “You ready to cum, darling?” Frantically— desperately— you nod. Steven can’t suppress the mirth in his face, nor his chuckle. He massages your aching hips, nudging his nose against yours. “Want me to fuck you properly, sweet thing? Want me to make it so you can’t walk right for a day or two? Fill you up so good you’ll be dripping a trail of me all the way home?”

His filthy words— which you’d bet anything he learned from Jake— make you impossibly wetter, more desperate.“Agh, Steven, please—“

Steven captures your lips in a searing kiss that tastes like you, like him, like hot metal and salt. He turns you around, helping you brace against the wall before kicking your ankles apart and pulling your hips back toward him. You hear his voice against your ear as he nips at the shell of it. He has one arm wrapped around your waist, his free hand rapidly undoing his belt. “Tell me if I need to stop, dove. You remember what you need to say?”

“Red,” You breathe, and he kisses the nape of your neck as if in reward.

“That’s right.” Carefully, he slides into you, taking it slow to let you adjust to his thick length. It feels so much better than the baton, and you’re a moaning, whining mess in his arms as he bottoms out with a groan. His forehead falls to rest against your spine, fighting his hips so that you can take a second to recover, to get used to him and the burning pleasure radiating through your whole body. Praise spills from his mouth almost mindlessly. “Oh, you’re such good fucking girl, taking me so well. So good, so— agh, fuck—tight, you sweet, gorgeous girl.” You whine, a hand almost reaching down between your legs, but Steven gently guides it back to the wall. “None of that. Be a good girl for me, lovey. I’ll take care of you. Said I would, yeah?” Keeping one arm around you to hold your back against his chest as he doubles you both over, a hand slips down to rub harsh circles on your clit simultaneously with the rocking of his hips. All the while, his words carried over your wild cry. “You like that, darling? So good, so wet, so pretty, all for me. I’m gonna make you cum, so hard you forget your own name. I’ll be right here to bring you back from it, I promise. You gonna scream so loud everybody hears it? So everybody hears how good I make you feel, how well you take me?”

You can’t breathe. You can’t see. All you can hear is Steven’s stream of filthy promises and praise. All your focus is between your legs, where he’s about to brutally split you in half. Steven readjusts— his hands hold your hips against him— and then you all but scream as he pulls nearly all the way out before slamming back into you. White and yellow dots explode in your vision as he sets a rapid, destructive pace, pounding into you hard enough to punch your breath out of your lungs with each snap of his hips against yours. The wet slap of skin-on-skin, your breathless sobs, and his deep groans fill the alleyway in an obscene mix that clearly emphasizes what you’re doing if anyone were to walk by. Car headlights flick past as someone drives along without even realizing what’s happening. Steven has gone utterly silent save for sounds of pleasure, all his focus on rutting into you as hard as humanly possible.

Steven somehow quickens his pace, but his rhythm is faltering. He throws his head back with a moan. “Love— agh— close, I’m close—“ Both if you are breathing so heavy it’s hard to catch any kind of words or gasps that might be struggling to be said. Still, Steven manages to say more. “C-can feel you there, dove; cum with me— letgoletgoletgo— agh!”

His words send you over the edge.

Hard.

You scream so loudly it tears at your throat. Tears stream down your face as your voice echoes throughout the streets, your whole lower body tightening like a vice around him. Steven violently slams his hips into you once, twice, then unleashes a growl as he cums right alongside you, hands squeezing your hips nearly too tight as he empties everything he has deep inside you.

True to his word, Steven’s made your whole mind foggy. You can’t comprehend or understand anything other than the sheer strength of your shared orgasm, your vision slowly returning from going white and blacking out. You’ve both stilled right where you are, lost in each other and the afterglow, heaving and gasping for breath like you’ve been drowning. You can feel sweat dripping from his hair onto your back, and realize you’ve both soaked through your clothes entirely. As your mind comes back to you, your boneless body nearly slumps. The only thing holding you up is Steven’s grip.

Steven’s hips tentatively rock against yours a couple of times, testing the waters after a minute. You choke back a sob as your hypersensitive flesh throbs at the sensation. Steven shushes you lovingly. “Shh... Can you give me one more, love, just one more?”

And because he asked so nicely, he somehow manages to slowly fuck another orgasm out of you, albeit far less powerful. When you come down from your second high, Steven is still moving his hips, helping you ride it out, before his movements speed up a bit as he chases his own high. He goes still a few moments later, as he pulses against your walls; his movements spur another, much weaker orgasm from you. Steven kisses your shoulders, still holding onto your hips. “So good for me, love.” He brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your temples. “Let’s get you home now, yeah? There’s a cup of hot cocoa with your name on it, and a warm bath... That sound good?”

Weakly, you nod, crying out as he pulls out of you. He adjusts your clothes and his, one handed, before sweeping you up into his arms bridal style. “...Did I hurt you, dove?”

Blissfully, you nuzzle into his chest and shake your head. “No. Not at all. We should do this more often.”

He chuckles, a sound which comforts you, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

~~~

The next morning, when Marc wakes up to you curled up against him in Steven’s clothes, he can’t help but melt. A glance to the clock reveals that you’ve both slept late, and so to wake you up he starts peppering kisses all over your face, soft and slow, running his hands up and down your sides—

He freezes. The hoodie has just ridden up and the sweatpants have just fallen down, revealing the start of a bruise. Worried, he pulls your pants down a little further— then you get a very rude awakening when Marc tears your pants completely off and rides your shirt up. “M-Marc?!”

“Jake, what the hell did you do?!”

Jake was only just waking up in the headspace. “Hm?” When he sees all the marks on you from Marc’s eyes, Jake forces himself to the front, running his hands gently over the bruises that fit his fingertips in confusion. “¿Qué carajo...? I didn’t do this.”

“Well I certainly didn’t,” Marc snaps.

“Guys...” you say softly, so tired your head falls back against the pillow. It’s then that Jake notices the absence of Steven.

“Where’s—“

“Too tired to so much as make a peep,” Marc replies, stunned.

Jake and Marc glance at each other in confusion in the mirror. “You’re saying that Steven—“

“Yep.”

“...Sweet, innocent Steven?” Jake is in disbelief.

Marc shrugs helplessly. “Guess he’s not as innocent as we thought. At least we know he wouldn’t have hurt her.” Jake can’t help but chuckle as he pulls your pants back on. “What’s so funny?”

“I underestimated him, hombre. Didn’t think he had it in him.” Jake lays down beside him, smiling with adoration when you subconsciously snuggle closer. He’s still chuckling to himself as he opens his arms to hold you closer, surprised and amused by the turn of events.

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Thanks for reading!

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