#more accurate to call me a noughties kid tbh

[denaliwrites]

The Future Ex Mrs. Malcolm

Ian Malcolm x Fem!Reader

Catch and Release Prompt: "Service"

Summary: (18+) You weren't quite sure how the chaotician became famous, but you were starting to see how he got his reputation.

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Excessive use of filler words. Oral (f receiving). Age gap (only mentioned).

You were pretty sure, from the moment you first saw him, that Ian Malcolm was famous. Did you know who he was or why he was famous? Of course not. He just had an air of superiority about him that only came from spending an extended period of time in the spotlight.

Well, a spotlight, at least.

You later found out that his claim to fame had something to do with math and chaos -- he'd been all too eager to explain it to you, but to be honest, anything to do with numbers slid right off your brain, and his pretty smile didn't really do your retention capabilities any favors.

You first met him when he brought his perfectly ordinary, if a bit "Hot Rod"-esque, car into your dad's shop to be serviced. While he waited for your dad to finish fixing up the car, the two of you talked.

Well, more accurately, you flirted shamelessly with no parent hovering menacingly over your shoulders.

You rather enjoyed the flirtatious attention of the older man, and you suspected he probably liked the equally flirtatious attention of a younger woman.

The next time you saw him, he had a different car. It was new, but only in the sense of whose hand it'd most recently fallen into. It was certainly older in every other way, maybe as old as Ian himself, though none of the previous owners had taken good care of it. The shell was rusted, parts were damaged or missing, and the seats almost certainly had blood in them.

Fixing it was going to be a multi-visit affair.

And that was how you found yourself being serviced by Ian behind your dad's car service shop.

It'd started like any of his other visits. This was his sixth, overall, and the two of you were emboldened by the idea that your father hadn't caught on yet --

Well, you were emboldened. You were pretty sure Ian didn't need a reason to be, he was just like that naturally.

He'd come to your counter, as he always did, to buy a Surge he never actually drank. He'd flirted, as he always did, and you flirted right back, as you always did.

You mentioned taking a break, and he mentioned needing some air.

His Surge was left forgotten on the counter as he made his way out the back door. You followed behind five minutes later and found him waiting for you in a shaded corner where no one would see the two of you.

His eyes feasted eagerly over your legs, bare but for your upper thighs, though they were shielded only by the loose skirt of your sundress.

"Those, uh, go on for days, don't they?" he asked as he stepped nearer. Before you could respond, he swept you into his arms, and you couldn't help but notice that you seemed to naturally fit together, like puzzle pieces.

"I, uh, always wondered... what your, uh. Legs. Looked like," he continued as you were pressed to the wall and his mouth landed hot and heavy on your bare shoulder. "Could never really, you know, see them. While you were, uh, behind the counter."

You whimpered as his lips trailed down your arm a few inches, his heated breath leaving goosebumps as it dissipated over your skin and left only a cool reminder that he'd been there. "I-Ian," you gasped, a hand reaching up to weave into his curls. You tugged down, and he easily let you pull him away from you.

The smirk he shot you had you all but melting, and the growl that accompanied it had you all but quaking.

"Hey, uh, you're the one in control here," he said, though the smirk he wore made you think maybe he was the one that was really in control, he just happened to not mind much what he ended up doing with you, so he could afford to let you have the illusion of control.

Not that you minded, much. Either way, you were getting yours.

"Do whatever you want," you told him.

His smirk grew just a touch wicked at that. "That's a, uh, dangerous invitation," he said carefully, though you could hear the arousal choking his voice even so, "be careful you don't let any, um... vampires... in."

"Are you a vampire?" you asked.

"Maybe," he answered simply, before his lips were back on you, trailing ever downward until he was on his knees before you. "Oh, this is much better."

His breath teased your inner thigh, eliciting another whimper from you. Hearing the effect he had on you only made him do it more, and soon all you could do was whine desperately.

"Pretty, uh, sensitive?" he asked. All you could do was nod in response and gasp as you felt, more than heard, the dark chuckle that emanated from his throat.

He moved on, his hands splaying over your thighs and fingers digging in as his mouth moved over the tender flesh, all but worshipping you as he delicately lifted your left leg up and over his shoulder to lay gracefully across his back.

He had nearly perfect access to you, now, though your panties obscured his view. He didn't seem bothered, though, as his face disappeared under your skirt.

A moment later, you felt a finger gently brushing the cloth aside. You whined as it inevitably made contact with your slit, hips rolling eagerly for more.

"Ah, ah," he tutted, breath dancing over your slit drawing forth a moan. His growling chuckle only made you moan again. "Good girl," he said in amusement, his hands returning to your thighs to rub them comfortingly.

He gave the thick meat of your thighs a squeeze, and then you felt his hot mouth on you -- you choked back a yelp as his tongue teased at your clit, circling it a few times and flicking against it once.

To keep yourself quiet, you bit down on a curled finger, and to keep yourself grounded, you buried your other hand in Ian's curls.

This only seemed to egg him on. His tongue swiped swiftly down your slit and plunged into your cunt. Your teeth sank into your finger and the squeal that would've otherwise sounded instead died in your throat.

A breezy chuckle rolled over your clit as Ian drew back to lave attention on it. Your hips rolled in response, which only made him chuckle more.

You could feel your insides starting to coil, could feel the desperation building. Ian seemed to sense it too, as his ministrations became quicker and more precise. Every breath, every flick of his tongue and touch of his lips, had shifted from teasing to drawing out your orgasm.

You wanted to scream as one last lap of his tongue from hole to clit finally brought you over the edge, but you bit it down, even as his tongue continued to circle your little nub to ease you through the high.

To compensate for your inability to scream your pleasure, you tightened your leg draped over Ian's back, drawing him in deeper to your core. He didn't seem to mind, even as he found his mouth fuller than he anticipated, if the grin you could feel was anything to go by.

Gradually, and with Ian's expert guidance,, you came down. You panted and sagged against the wall once the post-orgasm fog drifted in, and Ian carefully eased your leg down so that he could stand and offer you support.

You could see your slick shimmering on his lips and mindlessly pulled him into a kiss. He eagerly returned it, hands holding you tightly to keep you close.

"Would you, uh... marry me?" Ian asked in a low whisper, his eyes meeting yours.

"Bit quick, isn't it?" you replied, though you were grinning.

He returned the gesture. "I, uh. Never was one for... moderation."

You were about to answer, but then you heard your father calling for you. You shot Ian an amused glance. "Guess you'll have to come back to get my answer."

"I. I, uh. Look forward to it?"

"Maybe you should come back with a ring. Just in case."