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gavisfanta · 7 months ago

Text

QATAR - PEDRI

summary: youre messis daughter and dating pedri while the world cup is happening

warnings: none

@yourinsta

the journey to qatar was amazing, now that I've spent the first three hours here I cant wait for the world cup to start.

Vamos Argentina y Vamos España 🇦🇷 ❤️ 🇪🇦

liked by pedri, garnacho7 and 967,929 others.

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@garnacho7 👏🏼👏🏼

@pedri ❤️🇪🇦

@random supporting two teams is insane

@random imagine having the problem that your bf plays for spain and your dad for argentina and you dont know who you'll support

@random thats my dream problem

@random VIVA ESPAÑAAAA

@random I hope Messi can win it this year

@random can we please talk about how cute pedris smile is in the third picture??

@random why does she have the spanish passport if shes Argentinian??

@random she grew up in spain

@random Hala madrid

@random who is she?

@random shes Messi's daughter

@pedri

Esto acaba de empezar, sí, pero qué debut locos! Vamos España ❤️🇪🇦

(This has just begun, yes, but what a crazy debut! Let's go Spain)

liked by pablogavi, yourinsta and 4,629,729 others.

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@yourinsta guapoooo😍😍😍 (handsome)

@pablogavi simp

@pedri ❤️

@random LMAO

@random Pedri Potter

@pablogavi Hermanoooo looking good

@random hes soo fineee

@rodri so excited to play with you pedri ;)

@ferrantorres mágico

@random spain gon win the world cup

@random lets go spainnn

@sefutbol que chico 😍😍 (what a boy)

@marcosalonos pedriiii 😍😍

@yourinsta

Amazing game by spain as always, it was great to support you @pedri with @siramartinezc and lets keep going this way. Vamos España ❤️❤️

liked by pedri, pablogavi, siramartinezc and 2,690,628 others.

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@pedri red looks good on you amor ❤️ pinned comment

@siramartinezc 🇪🇦❤️

@pablogavi youre my favourite girlfriend of pedri

@yourinsta oh... thank you gavi...

@pedri gavi.

@anapelayoz mis chicas españolas favoritas 😍❤️ (my favourite spanish girls)

@antonellaroccuzzo 😍😍

@mikkykiemeney when are you coming to a game with me ? 😁😁

@yourinsta soon... maybe...

‎

@pedri

Muchas gracias por todo, Luis. Por tu confianza y por tu apoyo desde el primer momento, y por haber creído y cuidado siempre a este grupo. No hemos lIlegado donde queríamos en este Mundial, pero seguro que el futuro te deparara nuevos exitos

Muchas gracias también a toda la gente que ha estado a nuestro lado. Por ellos y por la @sefutbol tenemos que pasar página y trabajar para dar alegrías a nuestro país de la mano de Luis De la Fuente. Su suerte será la nuestra. 🇪🇦

(Thank you so much for everything, Luis. For your trust and for your support from the first moment, and for having always believed and cared for this group. We haven't gotten where we wanted in this World Cup, but I'm sure the future will bring you new successes

Many thanks too all the people who have been by our side. For them and for the @sefutbol we have to turn the page and work to give joy to our country from the hand of Luis De la Fuente. Your luck will be ours.)

liked by sefutbol, yourinsta, leomessi and 4,920,672 others.

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@yourinsta

Spain has been great and it's really unfortunate that we had to leave Qatar after this loss. I wish we could've went on further but I'm sure everyone is gonna take this as a challenge and win more trophies in the next 4 years. ❤️🇪🇦

liked by pedri, siramartinezc and 1,639,993 others.

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@pedri ❤️

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‎

@yourinsta

TO THE FINALSSS

VAMOSSS

liked by pedri, leomessi and 2,662,829 others.

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@leomessi 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

@pedri ❤️

@random YESSS TAKE IT HOMEE

@random vamoooooo argentinaaaaaaa

@random france easy win

@random 😍😍

@random mbappe as world cup champion sounds better

‎

@leomessi

CAMPEONES DEL MUNDO!!!!

Tantas veces lo soñé, tanto lo deseaba que aún no caigo, no me lo puedo creer...

Muchas gracias a mi familia, a todos los que me apoyan y también a todos los que creyeron en nosotros. Demostramos una vez más que los argentinos cuando luchamos juntos y unidos somos capaces de conseguir lo que nos propongamos. El mérito es de este grupo, que está por encima de las individualidades, es la fuerza de todos peleando por un mismo sueño que también era el de todos los argentinos... Lo logramos!!!

VAMOS ARGENTINA CARAJO!!!

Nos estamos viendo muy pronto... 🇦🇷🇦🇷

(WORLD CHAMPIONS !!!

I dreamed it so many times, I wished it so much that I don't fall yet, I can't believe it...

Big thanks to my family, all my supporters and also to all those who believed in us. We prove once again that the Argentinians when we fight together and united we are capable of achieving what we set out to do. The credit is of this group, which is above individuality, is the strength of all fighting for the same dream that was also that of all Argentinians... We made it !!!

LET'S FUCKING GO ARGENTINA !!!

We're seeing each other very soon...🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷)

liked by fcbarcelona, yourinsta and 75,448,275 others.

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@yourinsta LETS GOOOOOOOO CAMPEONES

@fcbarcelona beautiful 😍

@enzofernandez CAPITÁN 👏🏼👏🏼❤️❤️🇦🇷🇦🇷

@garnacho7 😍🇦🇷

@antonellaruccuzzo ❤️🇦🇷

@seleccionargentinaen "Lionel Messi has shaken hands with paradise"

@brycehall 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

@lisandromartinez Mi capitán 👏🏼🇦🇷

@random lmao barca commented

@random poor Cristiano

@random G.O.A.T.

@random I call this history

@yourinsta

This has been an incredible and surreal time and I'm so so thankful for everyone I met during my time there and I am so happy that my native country won it.

Thank you Qatar and VAMOS ARGENTINA 🇦🇷

liked by leomessi, pedri and 3,662,268 others.

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@selecciónargentina "todos somos montiel"

@leomessi VAMOSSSSS 🇦🇷🇦🇷

@antonellaroccuzzo ❤️❤️🇦🇷🇦🇷

@pedri 😍

@433 that world cup was special...

@pablogavi pedri looks so handsome 😍😍

comments have been limited...

‎

@yourinsta

argentina has been magical, thank you for sticking along @pedri ❤️

liked by pedri, leomessi, siramartinezc and 1,763,928 others.

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@pedri de nada amor ❤️😍

@leomessi 👍🏻

@random this is so dad of him 💀💀

@random MESSI

@mikkykiemeney so pretty 😍

@yourinsta ❤️

@random i love her and pedris relationship

@random that first picture >>

@random argentina did well ngl

@random pedri in the first pic AAAA

@random Idk who I'm jealous of, her or Pedri

@yourinsta

mi equipo 🫶🏻🇦🇷

liked by pedri, leomessi and 2,091,669 others.

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@leomessi mi hija ❤️

@pedri beautiful girl 😍😍

@yourinsta ❤️

@random VIVA ARGENTINA

@random undeserved

@yourinsta

back in barcelona, no better place then home 🫶🏻

liked by leomessi, pedri and 1,829,552 others.

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@pedri ❤️

@mikkykiemeney Home ❤️❤️

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peterm4rker · 10 days ago

Text

¿dónde está la biblioteca? || z.cl

thirty two. hola linda,

life has been good lately.

after those weird couple of days being incommunicated with chenle, having him back felt like a warm blanket on a cold day, comforting and heartwarming.

the situation you were in was weird, not dating, maybe more than friends. you didn't even know if he felt the same, but you were done stressing over that. it would happen if it had to, and god did you wish it would.

your thoughts were filled with him as usual as you sat with jaehee, looking over his spanish practice tests as he worked away on a new one. your phone rang loudly with your alarm, telling you both that the time was over. a smile overtook your face, not because your time with jaehee was over, but because that alarm signified a single hour left between you and the sight of your favourite smile in the world. you cleaned up quickly, lifting your head up as you heard jaehee call out to you.

“thank you for today, ynnie” he smiled as he always did.

“of course, jae” you smiled back, throwing your backpack over your shoulder as you were ready to leave.

“i have something to give you, wait” he said, stopping you on your tracks as he looked through his bag, pulling out an envelope. “someone wanted me to give this to you” he handed you the envelope, dimpled smile shining.

“oh, who?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed in doubt as you grabbed the envelope from him, your name adorning the back of it.

“you’ll see when you open it, ill leave you to it” jaehee gave you one last smile before walking away, leaving you with your confusion.

you didn't waste time to open it, taking the folded paper from the envelope and opening it, heart starting to beat a little faster as you recognized the messy hand writing scribbled onto it.

chenle.

your eyes darted around the paper, a huge smile forming on your face as you noticed a key detail.

it was in spanish.

you sat down on your previous seat, disbelief showing on your face as you began reading the letter.

[ENGLISH TRANSLATION UNDER THIS ONE]

hola linda,

me senté para escribir esto y me di cuenta recién ahora que nunca he escrito una carta a nadie antes, mucho menos en español. creo que no tenía que ser en español, y que probablemente sería cien veces mejor y más entendible si lo escribiera en un idioma que realmente sé hablar, pero eso arruina mi gran gesto. sé que probablemente estás muriéndote de vergüenza por lo mal que está escrito, pero espero que puedas apreciar que esto es mucho mejor de lo que sería si no te hubiera conocido.

me rompí la cabeza pensando en cómo decirte que me gustas, porque nada es suficiente para decirte cuánto me gustas. decidí escribir esto porque estaba soñando despierto contigo (como siempre) y recordé que una vez dijiste que es molesto siempre tener que hablar en el idioma de otra persona. esto es mi manera de darte eso, y de mostrarte que movería la tierra y el mar por vos.

solo te conozco por unos meses, pero he tenido un crush contigo por dos años, siete meses y cuatro días (sí, conté los días desde la orientación, ¿y qué?). pensé que ya había superado ese crush después de un tiempo, pero cuando todos empezaron a decir que serías mi tutora de español, me asusté, porque sabía que no podía pasar tiempo contigo sin volver a caer otra vez.

me sorprendió ver que eres muy diferente de lo que pensaba, porque no sabía que era posible que fueras diez veces mejor. eres la persona más divertida, hermosa, inteligente, amable, cariñosa y fucking rara que he conocido.

me rompió el corazón un poquito el día que me dijiste que te gustaba seunghan, pero dije que te ayudaría porque no me importa sacrificar mi felicidad por la tuya. podría verte todo el día con otro chico si eso significara ver cómo tus ojos se arrugan y tu único hoyuelo aparece cuando sonríes, porque nunca he visto nada más bonito en mi vida.

estoy completamente enamorado de cómo sonríes, cómo juegas con tus anillos cuando estás nerviosa, cómo sacas la lengua cuando te concentras, los errores pequeños que cometes cuando hablas y el hermoso acento que a veces se escucha. podría escucharte hablar de música para siempre porque así puedo ver cómo se iluminan tus ojos cuando hablas de algo que te encanta. podría escucharte hablar de los partidos de fútbol de los que no entiendo nada (¿por qué usan los pies?) (vi el último por ti, 6-0 es loco). podría escucharte hablar de tus amigos, contarme la historia de cómo conociste a sunwoo en el parque mil veces más si quieres. podría escucharte hablar de cualquier cosa, de verdad, porque tu voz es el sonido más bonito para mí.

has llegado a ser mi persona favorita con la que estar (no le digas a jisung que dije eso) y creo que hay una pequeña posibilidad de que me toleres lo suficiente para sentir algo parecido. le di esta carta a jaehee para que te la dé porque escribirla me quitó todo el valor que tengo en este momento y necesito concentrarme en el partido, no puedo si sé que estás ahí sin saber cuánto me gustas.

puedes hacer lo que quieras con esto, rechazarme o sentir lo mismo, pero espero que podamos seguir siendo así de cercanos. te veo después en el partido, ¿ok?

patéticamente tuyo, chenle.

[ENGLISH VER]

hey pretty,

i sat down to write this and ive realised just now that ive never written a letter to anyone before, much less in spanish. i guess it didnt need to be and that it would most likely be a hundred times better and more understandable if i wrote it in a language that im actually fluent in, but that just downplays my grand gesture. i know you're most likely cringing at how awfully written this is, but hopefully you can appreciate that this is way better than it would be if I hadn't met you.

i wrecked my head trying to think of how to confess to you, because nothing is enough to tell you how incredibly down bad i am for you. i got to this option because i was daydreaming about you (as per usual) and remembered the time you told me about how annoying it is sometimes to have to speak someone else’s language all the time. this is me trying to give you that and show you that i would move the earth and ocean for you.

ive only known you for a couple months, but ive had a crush on you for two years, seven months and four days (yes, i counted days since orientation so what). i really thought i had gotten over that crush after a while, but i panicked when everyone started being on my ass about you being my spanish tutor because i knew that there was no way that i could spend time with someone as perfect as you and not fall all over again.

it was a surprise to see that you are very different from who i thought you were because i didnt know it was possible for you to be ten times better. you are the most hilarious, beautiful, intelligent, kind, caring and fucking weird person ive ever met.

my heart broke a little the day you told me you liked seunghan, but i said i would help you because i dont mind sacrificing my happiness for yours. i would watch you next to some other guy all day if that meant seeing the way your eyes crinkle and your single dimple shows when you smile, because I've never seen a prettiest sight in my life.

I'm completely enamoured by the way you smile, the way you play with your rings when you're anxious, how you poke your tongue out when you concentrate, the small mistakes you make when you speak and the beautiful accent you can hear sometimes. i could listen to you talk about music forever because that means i get to see your eyes light up like they do when you talk about something you're passionate about. i could listen to you rant about football games i couldnt give less of a fuck about (because why are they using their feet?) (i watched the last one for you btw, 6 -0 is crazy). i could listen to you talk about your friends, tell me the story of how you met sunwoo at the playground a thousand more times for all i care. i could listen to you talk about anything, really, because your voice is the prettiest sound in my opinion.

you have grown to be my favourite person to be around (don’t tell jisung i said that) and i think there might be a tiny little possibility that you tolerate me enough to feel slightly the same. I gave jaehee this letter so he could give it to you because writing it has taken all the courage i have to offer you at the moment and i needed to focus on the game and i couldnt do that knowing you were out there not knowing how much i like you.

you can do whatever you'd like with this information, whether it's rejecting me or corresponding to my feelings, i hope we can still be this close either way. ill see you later at the game, okay?

pathetically yours, chenle

your eyes were watering once you had finished reading the letter. chenle had gone through the trouble of writing a letter in spanish because you happened to mention something that bothered you once. and more importantly, chenle liked you back.

you wiped your eyes off quickly and placed the letter back on the envelope, walking back to your car and driving as quickly as you could back home, a smile plastered on your lips.

★🏀⋆｡ °⋆

today was finally the day.

chenle had been stressing for almost a week, overthinking even the smallest details of his masterplan, his nerves acting up more than ever.

but it was finally going to be over, because he would get his answer from you at some point of the night.

images of how you could possibly react played in his head as he did his usual warm up with the team, the gym bleachers starting to slowly fill with people, no sight of you yet. his thoughts were interrupted by a hand being placed on his shoulder, making him turn around to see a smiley seunghan.

“waiting on someone, cap?” he asked, a teasing tone on his voice, making chenle roll his eyes humorously at him.

“is it that obvious?” he joked, playing along.

“has been since the day you met her” seunghan answered, chuckling softly and walking away.

chenle knew he was right. he couldnt even attempt to deny the fact that he had always wanted you. even after convincing himself that his crush on you was stupid, even when he knew you liked someone else, he had always wanted you. and according to the time, you probably already knew that.

god, he felt like throwing up.

he shook his head to clear his thoughts, looking at the bleachers one last time and seeing all your friends there, but no sign of you. his eyes found jisungs and gave him a questioning look that was answered by a shrug and a sympathetic smile.

were you not going to show up?

chenle knew you would never do that, you were too sweet to even think about it. but that didn't mean he couldn't worry.

his attention was once again called back to his game as the coach called him over, the team huddling and looking straight at him as if to wait for his usual speech. chenle spoke like he always did. confidently, strongly, reassuringly. he had a team on his back, and he didn't plan on letting them down.

the game started after one last look at the empty seat between your friends where you should’ve been, the sound of the whistle sucking his focus onto the game.

everything stopped around him as his eyes followed the ball’s movements around the court, his senses absorbed by the game, hyper aware of how everyone moved around him, making sure to notice all the possible plays that could go on like in that moment.

the ball got to his hands and his eyes zeroed on the hoop. it was a risky shot, but he knew he could make it. so he shot, ball going in right as he had predicted. a smile formed on his lips as he heard everyone cheer around him, but a particular voice caught his attention, making his head snap to where his friends were. there, sitting prettily with a huge smile and his jersey was you.

in a fraction of a second, his eyes caught yours and your smile widened. you looked so beautiful to him, more than you ever had. and that was a big claim for chenle. you waved at him sweetly and he felt his heart pound.

did that mean you liked him back?

but his time to ponder was cut short as he caught the shadow of the rival team’s colour from the corner of his eye. he turned around as quickly as he could, taking the ball from their hands and quickly passing it over to jungwoo, recovering his team's possession.

twenty minutes went out fast, and half time was announced with his team in the lead. he thought about going to you, but coach seungcheol called him over before he could even start walking. the game began again just as fast as it had ended, his chances of talking to you before the end gone with the break.

he knew he had to win, because there was no way that he would walk back to you being a loser. he played harder than he had the former half, scoring a couple baskets and making sure that his team had a prominent lead. leehan scored the last basket of the game about three minutes from its end, crowning them victorious and causing the entire gym erupt in cheers. he patted leehans back with a smile before he looked for you again in the crowd, finding you jumping around with ningning as you cheered.

his smile widened as he walked towards you, leaving his cheering team behind. your eyes finally found his, holding eye contact until he was right in front of you.

“hey, pretty” he mumbled, tuning out any other sound around him, his attention solely on you.

“hey, lele” you answered the same way. his eyes bored into yours like he was searching for something, and you knew what it was.

he wanted an answer.

so you gave him one.

your hands held his jaw and pulled him into you, your lips crashing together.

fucking finally.

chenles mind exploded in fireworks as he kissed you back, the distant sound of your screaming friends causing you to chuckle into the kiss. his hands travelled to your waist in order to pull you further into him, brain still not processing what was happening.

you were kissing him.

you liked him back.

he had to part away from you once his lungs were screaming for air, but he kept as little distance as possible as he rested his forehead on yours, trying to absorb what it felt like to have you this close to him.

you were the first to put distance between you guys, his eyes opening to see your gorgeous face tinted a slight pink.

“i got your letter” you stated the obvious, causing him to let out a light chuckle.

“yeah? and what did you think?”

“well, i have a couple corrections, but it got the message across” you teased, the smile on your face unable to leave

“and what do you say about the message?” he asked, his heart beating almost out of his chest.

“didnt i make that clear?” you asked, humour still laced in your voice as you got closer to him once again.

“hmm, could've been a little clearer” he teased, tilting his head so he could get closer. you rolled your eyes playfully before kissing him once again.

the same feeling of fireworks blared through his body, and he knew right there and then that it would never go away. you parted from him with a small peck, looking up at his eyes. “was that better?”

“so much better” he replied, leaning in to peck your lips softly.

you were both brought back to reality as you heard a loud groan behind you, both pairs of eyes moving to the group of people that looked at you attently.

“can you guys get a room please?” winter groaned, gagging exaggeratedly.

“for real, it's like watching my parents make out” xiaojun followed, making yangyang nod in agreement as they followed winter with the gagging.

“dont listen to them, by all means, please continue” haechan spoke up, moving his eyebrows up and down and causing a collective groan, mark slapping the back of his head. “ouch, mark, save that for the bedroom, jeez” the boy spoke again, causing the formerly mentioned to groan again and move away from him.

you laughed and leaned into chenles body, your eyes meeting sunwoo’s. he smiled brightly at you, happiness evident in his eyes. you smiled back before looking at chenle once again, pecking his cheek. he looked down at you adoringly and pecked you right back, causing more complaints as you began walking out of the gym, his arm sitting protectively around your shoulder.

what neither of you saw was seunghan and intak high fiving in the distance.

★🎧⋆｡ °⋆

your friends parted ways at the parking lot, excuses of homework and promised dinners in the air as if you didn't know they were only trying to get you two together alone.

well, most of them. jaemin did show you the dinner reservations he and jeno had.

you waited a couple minutes outside the changing room as chenle showered and changed after you told him how much he stank.

your attention caught from your phone at his voice. he came out with the biggest smile on his face, hair wet from the shower and clothes newly clean.

“hey, pretty” he smiled, the sentence a staple of your new found relationship.

“hey, lele” you chuckled as he cradled your jaw, joining your lips once again.

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

★ word count ;; 2.6k

★ authors note ;; theyre finally together, people ! and it only took them 32 chapters !! oh well... we are down to the last to chapters (im freaking out)

★ tag list ;; @yutarot @chenlesfavorite @fullsunbabe @taroddori @morkiee @jovialdelusionbouquet @winwintea @flaminghotyourmom @haechskiss @xuimhao @dudekiss3r @neozon3nha @julsinglee @sleepyvic

#chenle #zhong chenle #chenle smau #nct dream #nct dream smau #kpop #kpop smau #nct #nct smau #chenle texts #chenle x reader #wayv #chenle social media au #nct dream social media au #nct social media au #🕷✮⋆˙ ¿dónde está la biblioteca?#🕷✮⋆˙ peterm4rkerswrld

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the-californicationist · 3 months ago

Note

¡Hola Cali! 🩷 Te dejé un mensaje con un DILF que pesqué hace algunas semanas, pero creo que se perdió por aquí o no pudiste leerlo. ¡Te extraño tanto! El trabajo me está consumiendo porque estamos en plena campaña política y solo quiero que termine, con el mejor resultado, e ir a descansar (y escribir).

Leí que estabas de vacaciones o algo así. ¡Espero que la estés pasando increíble! *Besito en la frente*

Vine con una idea que me está rondando la cabeza: Precio como candidato a Senador y Lector asesor, deciden mandar todo a la verg* y simplemente ACEPTAN QUE ESTÁN ENAMORADOS Y TIENEN SEXO CALIENTE Y DESORDENADO.

*guiño guiño*

Griss!! Lamento mucho la demora, mi amor. Espero que esto sea lo que esperabas <3

After serving in the SAS, John Price has decided to run for a seat in the House of Commons. You are one of his closest political advisors, helping him deal with a runoff election. The only problem? Your incurable crush on your giant, hot, bearded, future member of Parliament.

English translation of the ask: Senator!Price and Advisor!Reader, decide to send everything to hell and simply ACCEPT THAT THEY ARE IN LOVE AND HAVE HOT AND MESSY SEX.

Unfortunately, this fic is in English, but if you are looking for Spanish-language fics, please go read (and reblog!) @pricesugarwife and her amazing work!! She's the best!

The Runoff

The tremble in your hand wouldn’t be abated by the drink you clasped in it, the alcohol losing the battle against your nerves, and the brown neck of the beer bottle kept waving in little shivers, giving your fears away. You squeezed the glass tighter, feeling the sticky glue of the label you’d picked bare, its shards still caught under your fingernails, but you kept trying to control your muscles; mind over matter.

Only the blue, hazy glow of the computer screen reflected in your eyes as you watched the election results come in. Down twenty-two, up seventeen, down four, up twelve; you watched the number fluctuate as if it was your life hanging in the balance. Hell, this wasn’t even your race.

But, it sure felt like it was. You were entrenched in this campaign, elbow-deep in the muck of it, wearing its failures like dark purple bruises and its successes like lipstick-stained kisses, feeling the highest of highs and trudging through the lowest of lows. Every rally felt like a homecoming, and every debate put your nerves on edge. More than anything, you believed in your work. You stuffed envelopes and pressed flyers into the palms of your fellow constituents as if you were bringing them food for their empty bellies, passing out prayers for their unsaved souls. It was the most important work you’d ever done.

You needed John Price to win.

Being elected to the House of Commons was a big deal for an independent in his district. Luckily, John’s reputation quietly but effectively preceded him. His service to the RAF and SAS, his commitment to defeating agents of terror, his loyalty to the Crown – all of it gleamed just like the shining medals that hung on his chest, even if he grumbled about them. Despite his distaste for pomp, he sure did wear it well. The accolades looked good on his broad chest, each one more splendid than the last, all lined up in neat, indomitable rows.

Maybe I should spend more time looking at my stat sheets than his uniform, you thought, feeling guilty at just how many times you’d turned on incognito mode and searched for his award ceremony on YouTube.

The video had a few hundred thousand views, but it felt like most of those were from you. Seeing him walk out on stage, every bit the hero they’d introduced him as, made your breath catch in your throat. His sharp hat, the starched fabric of his coat, the bright, red sash slashing across his big, heavy body… you wanted to feel him sinking his weight on top of you, that power stealing your breath away, crushing your ribs, stopping your lungs from gasping in their precious oxygen. You wanted to feel the cold of those shining brass buttons upon your breasts, their rounded edges curling and chilling your heated flesh. You wanted the stubble of his beard to burn your soft cheek.

You wanted John Price, and that would be a huge mistake. The last thing he needed was tabloid pictures with a garish, screaming title like “MP CANDIDATE SNOGGING HIS OWN STAFF!” No, you wouldn’t embarrass him like that. You wouldn’t risk it. Even if the way that he looked at you across the war room table made you think that you could, you would never. His seat was too critical.

You needed John Price to win.

Your eyes flashed up to the screen, again, noticing a change in the counting. You watched the numbers slow their terrible give and take, the shifting ups and downs slowly trickling to a halt. You did a double take, checking the clock. The recount was over. It was a tie.

Your phone started to buzz. Then another. Before you took your next breath, it was vibrating fast enough to cancel out each subsequent ping, like a barrage of alerts, all fighting for the front of the line. You shut it down, hoping you could get a kill command through the thunderous notification storm. Finally, the screen went dark, and you saw yourself staring back through the black mirror, startled to see your sunken eyes, as if you were confronting a stranger. You kept the dead phone centered in your hand, gazing into your own face just a little longer as if to ask what she was looking at, daring her to flinch.

“Yours, too?”

A dark, smoldering voice rumbled toward you through the quiet of your shared office. You snapped your head to find him leaning against the doorway, the collar of his oxford missing its tie, unbuttoned thrice, wrinkled and lilting from sweat and rain and the stress of the day. His beard was shaggy, and his five o’clock shadow bristled across his neck, spreading on his cheeks as he gave you a half-smile, wiggling his dead phone in the air.

“Yeah,” you sighed, coming back to yourself, “Don’t look now, but Twitter is going absolutely mental.”

You pointed your chin at the screen, tilting your head up and leaning back in your chair so that he could look over your shoulder. There was barely a meter between the wall and the desk, so between you and the chair, John needed to lean close to see the final score. As he watched the screen, you watched the pulse of his heart beat through the wide vein in his neck. You could smell his musk, the human of his earthly form filling your nose and mouth, then his aftershave, fading, only the woody base notes remaining. A lingering scent of his favorite cigars clung to his hair and clothes. He smelled like a fire, a whirling inferno of vanilla and licorice and sweet tobacco that you had grown to love, to crave.

“Christ. A fuckin’ runoff. As if I haven’t put you lot through enough already.” He shook his head, crossing his thick arms across himself, sighing from a resigned frustration.

“We wouldn’t do it if we didn’t believe it was worth it,” you murmured in a hushed half-tone, your voice almost gone from all the shouting and mayhem you’d been a part of earlier when they’d called for a recount, “We believe in you, John.”

His smile widened, not enough to show those straight, white teeth, but enough to soften his eyes as he looked down at you. He tapped you on the shoulder and motioned for you to come with him.

As he disappeared through the door, you followed him into the office hallway, past the common room, scooting past half-dead interns, rabid with a new task. One of them was juggling three phone calls at once, but another was curled up beneath her desk fast asleep using a cheap fleece blanket for comfort. Your campaign office had been through Hell, and it was far from over.

A few of them tried to stop you and ask some questions, but you put them off, telling them to take a breather, get their minds right before making another phone call, and you continued to follow John as he led you through the winding office maze.

Finally, he pulled you into his office, grabbing your forearm with some force, and locking the door behind you.

“Got a surprise for you,” he said, pulling out two white bags from under his desk.

You smelled it before he revealed it to you, and you couldn’t help but gape in excitement,

“Is that… oh, my God. Is that Padella’s? Are you serious right now?”

You helped him tear into the bags like a feral hound, ripping at the tight plastic bow, pulling out the takeaway boxes greedily and without shame.

His grin was smug and satisfied as he watched you open the box and take in a huge whiff of the hot food,

“Yeah, it is. The seafood alfredo, right? Your favorite.”

“John,” you said his name like he had given you something far more salacious than food, ignoring his rolling chuckle, eager to get a morsel in your mouth as soon as you could.

“If I knew it’d get you to say my name like that, I’d bring it by every bloody night,” he laughed, hiding his pleasure under a joking tone. He leaned in closer to the open takeaway box, peering inside, “Go on, love. Give us a bite.”

“This is how you know I’m devoted to the John Price campaign,” you joked with him, raising your eyebrows with some sass as you prepared a forkful for him. You speared a juicy scallop, twirling some pasta around on the plastic tines of the single-use utensil, crafting the perfect bite for him. “Giving you first dibs?”

“Lucky bloke, me,” he said quietly, winking at you.

You pulled the fork into position, lining it up with his mouth, and you watched him open up those full lips for you, showing you his flat, pink tongue that bent to anticipate the creamy taste of the pasta. You placed it gently inside, the act of feeding one of the most dangerous men in the world suddenly too intimate, too endearing. His eyes watched you through the whole ritual, only fluttering closed when he shut his lips and began to chew his bite, savoring the flavors.

He let out a long groan, the sound of which made you want to squeeze your thighs together, your mind repeating it over and over like an echo, imagining your name falling in between his ragged, guttural sighs. You felt your cheeks run hot.

“Mm, fuck,” he smiled, talking with his mouth half-full, “That is damn good.”

You took your own bite, nodding, tasting the buttery alfredo, the perfectly-cooked noodles, and the light, savory scallop. It was almost better than sex. Almost.

Sharing the same fork, since you only had the one, you and John traded bites, sitting in silence for a while before the conversation turned back to work.

“They wanna put us in the runoff in less than ten days,” he said ruefully, understanding that timeline would be a brutal one.

“Ten days? Are they trying to kill us? The interns are falling asleep standing up,” you sighed, exaggerating a little, but making your point.

“You should head home. Get some rest. I’ll hold down the fort here, love,” John said, wiping a smear of stray alfredo off of his lip decisively.

You balked,

“No. Absolutely not. I can’t leave you now, not when we’re this close to winning this thing.”

He studied you for a moment, leaning his hulking forearms on his desk, spreading his wide hands across the soft wood of its tabletop, letting you see the small muscles in his hands as they stretched and pulled across his bones. He looked down at the space between his palms, grounding himself before he spoke, his voice just above a whisper,

“You make me feel like it’s actually possible.”

You reached out, your hand holding onto his wrist, making him look up to meet your eyes,

“John. It is possible. You’ve got Stallworth’s endorsement. Marchande will lose if you can get the Labor constituents behind you. I’ve run the numbers. Believe me, you can do this.”

“I can’t do it without you,” he frowned a bit, his brow knitting together, the timbre of his voice low and steady.

You smiled up at him, feeling his fingers lace themselves into yours, experimentally testing the boundaries of his touch,

“I’m here until the bitter end,” you let out a short laugh, nervous from how good it felt to be held in his hands, “And probably even after that.”

John was silent for a while, his thumbs massaging your knuckles in little, slow circles, his touch becoming more and more sensual, and then, he abruptly pulled away, leaving your palms face up on the table, your fingers bent in the shape of a shallow bowl as if begging to be filled. But, you remained empty, so you pulled your hands back to your lap, suddenly unsure, your body wanting his touch but mentally feeling as if you shouldn’t ask for it back.

He looked away, staring past you at the closed door and muttered,

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You challenged, keeping your volume as low as his, not wanting to break the fading spell you had cast over each other.

“I ask too much of you.”

You listened to the words as he sent them out, hearing two implications fighting within that one phrase.

Too much of my time, or too much of my body? You wondered.

So, you tried to make it easy on him. You didn’t want to be the distraction that ruined his race. You stood, closing up the box of food, cleaning off the tiny smear of alfredo that painted the corner of his desk. He stood with you, waving you off of the mess, taking over to clean it himself.

The bag rustled, the box popped hollowly as he closed it, paper and cardboard and plastic all swishing and clattering, a cacophony of noise. And then… a deeply still silence.

He was standing right in front of you, too close for you to think straight. You let yourself linger there, leeching the warmth from his heavy body and taking it into yourself, letting it seep into your skin. You vowed to keep the memory of it in some recess of your mind, saving it for dessert when you could be alone to savor its silky texture, tasting a ghost of all of the mirror universes where you knew what it felt like to be covered in him.

Suddenly, you felt his finger under your chin, a coaxing pressure, lifting your face to look at him. It was hard to look into his eyes. Some part of you knew that the moment he peered into them, when he studied what they were trying to hide, he would know your secret. He would be able to see all of your guilt, all of your stolen pleasure, all of the nights where your hand tried to replicate his presence, working itself between your legs to indulge in your fantasies about being taken by him, about serving him not as his campaign advisor but as his woman; his shelter and his release. He would look into your face and he would immediately know that you dreamed of being used like his own personal toy, helping him unwind after the stress of this election, putting all of his frustrations into you as he pounded himself into your mouth or between your spread legs, using you like a salve on a burn.

But, you showed him anyway. Your eyes flicked up to his, and you let him see it.

John towered over you, his shadow darkening your vision, framing you with his round shoulders. He had his thumb pressed just below your bottom lip, opening your mouth a little, watching your breathing crash heavy into your lungs.

You stood frozen in place, watching as his neck bent over you, the great trunk of his body craning down, shading you, closing around you like the boughs of an immense oak, promising that you were safe here nestled in his roots, some sort of primal argument, convincing you to stay still so he could devour you in peace. A rabbit, statuesque beneath the snarl of a wolf.

His face was now upon yours, close enough for you to see the little silver scars that crossed over his cheek and brow, hints at a dangerous life, whispers of old pain. A light spattering of freckles littered the bridge of his nose, fanning out beneath those pale blue eyes he had fixed on your mouth, staring into it as if hypnotized.

Finally, when he was near enough to taste your air, to feel the heat of your breath against his mouth, his lips broke their seal, opening in anticipation of another first bite, another chance to sate a different type of hunger.

His lips brushed yours, every moment taking an eon to pass, seconds stretching into thousands of hours, the office, the building, the city melting away from you like wax from a flame, the world giving way to dark infinity, and you opened your mouth to taste him, allowing your tongue to slip over your teeth so that you could know the sweetness of the smooth skin of his lip.

The moment you touched him, you were taken. He crashed into you, his mouth to your mouth, his chest to your chest, scooping you up like a greedy falcon, trapping you in his arms, flying away with you. Or falling? You felt like you were falling; like you had leapt too high and now would tumble through the sky forever, whirling helplessly. He tasted of the rich alfredo, and of his cigars, buttery and rich, masculine and heady. He was prying your jaw apart with his own, eager to fill your cheeks with his broad, heavy tongue. John pulled back just enough to allow you to take a breath, but he returned, unable to stop himself, softly sucking at your bottom lip, slanting his mouth over yours, the fever in him beginning to cool. Then, he pulled back altogether, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes wrenched closed, his body heaving from his desperate breaths.

He leaned back, staring at you with a worried look on his face, his voice deep and gravelly, a demonic purr,

“I… I’m so sorry.”

You nodded, lowering your eyes,

“I know. We can’t.”

“Can’t?” He panted, still reeling, looking at you like he was lost, like you knew the way out, “Do you want this? Me?”

You leaned your head into the strength of his hands as he cradled your skull, drunk on hope,

“More than you know. But, I don’t want to distract–”

John lunged at you, his mouth pressing to yours again, hurting you with his power. The weight of his jaw crashing into your lips, making you wonder if you would bleed from it, your own teeth cutting into the delicate membrane inside. But, he didn’t seem to care. He wasn’t concerned with your comfort. He was only there to consume you, to steal your breath, to drink your soul from your throat.

He moved his body against you like a python, curling and squeezing you with his arms, constricting your movements, pushing and pulling you this way or that, whatever would give him deeper access to your pink tongue. His aggression shocked you, and it was everything you could do to just keep your balance, unsteady on your feet, your hands clutching at his waist for support.

John’s kissing made you feel weak, like he was drugging you, forcing your mind into a daze. You tried to remember why you had tried to stop this from happening, unable to even imagine a consequence. You felt his hands wander away from your face, rushing down your neck, finding your breasts and roughly fondling them over your shirt. You’d ripped off your bra long ago, hot and tired, needing relief.

When he realized that your heavy tits were hanging freely, hidden beneath your oversized button-down, you felt him shudder, groaning into your mouth at the mere fantasy of seeing them, of marking your nipples in dark hickeys as he suckled you, letting his teeth tattoo his claim on your flesh.

You were brought back to the physical world when you felt your ass shoved into the long edge of the desk, stopping his forward progress. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a look that made you feel as if you might be in some kind of danger, even if you were relishing every fearful moment of it.

John had only shown you this expression once before. You’d been working late again, trying to keep yourself awake by brewing coffee in the break room. There’d been an incident or two with one of the interns, a bloke who didn’t know how to take no for an answer. You’d shut him down twice, and now, you hadn’t realized he had followed you inside the small kitchenette. This time, he wasn’t asking, and when you felt his hand on your neck, you’d screamed, fighting back, but not making much difference. Mere seconds later, John had marched in wearing this same expression stretched across his face.

It was a sort of ravenous joy, almost playful, but it was terrifying. He’d broken the intern’s wrist in his crushing grip, and then his jaw bone, striking the smaller man down to the dirty, tile floor with a single, cracking punch. Then, he’d stared at you, trying his best to control his visage, to push down that fiery arousal. Eventually, he was back under control, helping you out of the office, checking you for any wound, no matter how minor, worrying himself over you, promising that you’d never see that arsehole again. And you never did. You’d put it out of your mind until just this moment, always having more work to do. But now, you wondered if that intern was still walking around out there or if John had let his old ways return just for that evening. He was always good at eliminating threats.

You had assumed that his feral heat had been for the fight, an expression of rage. But now, you thought that perhaps it had been for you. The thought that this reckless lad had dared to put his hands on something that John had claimed as his own, righteously possessive over you to the point of fury, baring his teeth and curling his lip into a lupine snarl, briefly revealing his wrath before tamping down on it and hiding it from you out of fear that you would not agree to be his.

Now, he was not controlling his face. There was no polite gentleness in his eyes, no casual ease in his shoulders, no respectful distance between your body and his. No; now that you were in his grasp, he had no plans to let you go free.

He grabbed you around your waist, his fingers cutting into your full form, squeezing your hips and lifting you with ease onto the desktop. He distracted you with kisses, lulling you back into a hazy, pleasure-filled lust, making you aware of his desire by shoving himself between your thick thighs, the threat of his heavy erection pressing through his slacks and onto the crotch of your jeans.

Your body reacted on instinct. You felt yourself widening your legs and canting your hips to rub against his hardon like you were in heat, your biology doing everything it could to get his attention.

But, you had it regardless. He tugged off your shirt with a deft sort of accuracy that took your breath away. When he let his eyes drink in the sight of your round breasts, peaked with smooth, puffy nipples, his rushed movements stilled, and you waited while he studied you, reaching out his fingers to see if you were as soft as you looked. As he discovered the truth, his big fingers wrapping around each of your heavy tits, applying pressure, caressing the sides of them, feeling the thin ridges of your stretch marks, plucking delicately at each nipple, looking up at your face to watch your reactions; all the while, you could feel the throb of his fat cock fighting to touch you through your clothes.

Then, his touch became feverish again. Instead of a caress, it was a burning friction; instead of tender plucking, it was a shocking pinch. He was making you writhe beneath his hands, manhandling your tits to his own end, enjoying your whimpering cries of pain that fizzled into bright pleasure, the pressure of his dick against your sex making you aware of the growing wetness there, your panties proving your desire to you, warm and slippery.

You reached up your hand to touch his chest, mimicking his affection, admiring the firm muscle that spanned beneath your palms. Your fingers found the gap between his buttons, running through the dense patch of hair that lay on his sternum, raking your nails lightly across his skin. He furrowed his brow, wanting more, looking down at your touch and starting to unbutton his dress shirt. Within seconds, he was peeling it off of his shoulders, leaving it rumpled and inside-out on the floor.

Sitting up, you started to explore him with your mouth, letting your lips drag along his furry skin, licking your way across to his highest ribs, to that sensitive spot just below his armpit, changing your gentle exploration into a sucking, lustful kiss, aiming to leave a mark of your own. He let you bite him, enjoying the pain and groaning from it. Then, he grew impatient, and he fisted your hair at the nape of your neck, yanking you away from him, bending over you again, forcing you to kiss him as he pressed your jaw up to his, controlling your head.

But, he did not have control of your hands. Without breaking eye contact with him, you began to fumble with his belt, hurrying to open the latch, moving on to his button fly, popping each one away to reveal his boxer briefs, the cotton of them soft across the back of your hand. You watched his face, chaotic and full of a decadent sort of desire, as if he couldn’t believe what he was feeling.

He kept his hand in your hair and let you work his pants away, peeling his underclothes down as far as you could get them, glancing down as the pink, swollen head of his dick peeked over the hem as you revealed him. The head was pointing at his hip, trapped there by the wide elastic of his briefs. Now that he was free to move, his length stood at attention, fully erect with a girth that made you dizzy.

“Holy fuck,” you gasped, muttering a curse under your breath.

He jerked your head back, tearing your eyes away from his heavy phallus and forcing you to look at him instead,

“Something wrong, love?”

You gave him a submissive look, curling your lips into a sly smile, your eyes wide like a fearful doe,

“I don’t think you’ll fit.”

He smiled down at you, pleased by your appraisal, his gaze turning sinister,

“You’re not leavin’ ‘til I do.”

Quicker than you could breathe, he released his hold on your head and used both hands to ruck off your jeans in one violent pull. Your panties got stuck halfway, getting caught in the rough stitching of the denim. John looked down into your lap, staring at the silky fabric clinging to your wide hips, hanging off to one side at a messy diagonal, showing him the top of your unshaved mons.

You heard him sigh through his smile, his hand reaching forward and ever-so-gently helping the edge of your panties back into place. You were confused. He was supposed to be ripping them off and fucking you stupid, but he slowed things all the way down, returning to his delicate caresses.

John played with your breasts again, kissing your mouth, sucking on your neck. Then, he reached between your legs and touched you, his hand slipping over your covered pussy, groping you through the thin fabric. His fingers were warm, and the way he pressed them beside your tender clit made you tremble, your thighs shaking a bit as your legs hung off the side of the desk.

He fell to his knees in front of you, his hands wrapping around the curve of your ass, pulling you as far forward on the edge of the desk as he could, throwing you forward like you were as light as a feather, his grip fierce and bruising. Then, he leaned forward, eager to put his mouth over your pussy, but you protested, gasping,

“John, my… my panties.”

He pinned his bright blue eyes on yours, looking at you unblinking, and leaned forward, showing you that he didn’t give a fuck about your panties. His hot tongue began to push and prod at your lips through the fabric, and you could feel your pussy clinging to the gusset, the wet cloth conforming to your shape as he licked and sucked.

As his tongue delved deeper, he discovered your sticky precome that had been soaking you right through ever since he’d found you staring at the vote count. He used his lips to suck on your folds, the knit of the fabric allowing only the tiniest bit of air to escape, making little chirping sounds as he applied more and more pressure. Then, you watched in a sick sort of awe as he took the gusset fully into his mouth, pulling it away from your body to suck your wetness from it like he was lapping up the last bit of ice cream from its cone. He even used his hand to loop it over his fingers, stretching out the thin triangle, making sure to get every last drop.

By this time, you were pretty sure you had dripped your stickiness straight onto his desk, and you could feel your pussy slipping around on the smooth surface with every little movement. John decided to finally give you what you’d been whimpering for, and he pulled your panties aside to drink from the source.

When the hot curl of his tongue finally connected, sealing wet flesh against wet flesh, you cried out, biting into your hand to keep yourself from being heard. You watched him eat you from your center, writhing his tongue deep into your hole and sucking on the head of your clit, using his bottom lip to reach that space underneath, teasing you within an inch of your life. Without thinking, your hand went to the back of his head, fingers raking through his hair, and you watched his eyes flutter, loving the feeling of your nails on his scalp.

Your legs were partly resting on his shoulders, and John stood up quickly, slamming you back onto the desk and hauling your legs over with you, shoving your knees into your chest, putting your pussy on full display. You felt his fingers curve down through your wet lips and into the sensitive divot where you were leaking from. As he sank his hand into your hole, you felt like you were so close to coming. All of his licking and teasing had put you on the edge, and now that his thumb was sliding beside your clit and his longest fingers were stretching out your pussy, you felt the spark of an orgasm ignite in your belly.

“Yes, love… That’s… ungh, fuck…” John felt it, too.

His hand was making all sorts of noise as he fucked his fingers up into you, the messiness only getting worse as your body flooded you with shock after shock of your orgasm. You were convulsing, your abs tight and protruding beneath your layer of fat, your feet pointed straight like a ballerina, all of your limbs frozen and tense, letting the orgasm wreck you and leave you boneless.

He pulled away from you, gently removing his hand, and he bent his mouth to you again, aiming to taste your fresh come, hot and silky, coating you in natural lube, doing its absolute best to convince him to listen to his instincts and sheath himself inside of your body.

But, John was careful. He pulled your legs back down to a bent position, one hand on each knee, prying you apart slowly, his eyes fixed on your flower so he could watch it bloom, covered in your sweet nectar.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice husky and broken.

You nodded,

“Yeah, I’m more than okay.”

He smiled at you, using his hands to push your breasts together, playing with your nipples in his warm hands, pinching you cruelly and then soothing you in small circles, never letting you know when the pain or the pleasure would come.

On the outside of your pussy, John rested his cock, spreading your outer lips with its weight to fit his girth right on top of your clit. He thrust forward, and you watched as the drooling head of his prick was shoved toward you.

He humped himself against you in a steady pattern, pumping himself across your wetness, trying to relieve some pressure. Eventually, you thought he was about to come, but he stopped, slowing to a slick grind. He looked up at you and ran his palm down his face, frustrated and beyond horny.

“I wanna fuck you so goddamn bad.”

“So do I,” you moaned, rocking your hips up and down, adding to his thrusting friction, using him like a toy to bring yourself back to a shivering edge.

“I don’t have a condom,” he confessed, helping you use his smooth head to massage the body of your clit.

“I’m clean. I actually don’t think I’ve had sex since I moved to the city,” you shrugged, slowing down with him, waiting for his consent before giving in to your mind-altering want, “But, if you wanna stop, it’s okay.”

He kissed your ankle, holding your foot in his hand, leaving little licks and love bites down your calf as he warred with himself,

“Haven’t been with anyone since Dahra.”

His ex-wife. She’d gone back to Urzikstan one day without so much as a note, packing a bag and leaving her rings on the counter. Apparently, when they’d finally met to fill out his divorce papers, he said that she looked happy in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time, so he signed without question. You remember when he had told you about it, three whiskeys deep and sharing a cigar on the roof of his loft, too late to go to the pub, but too early to stop drinking. He’d held your hand while he talked to you that night. You’d just thought he needed the support, and you tried to be a good friend. But now that he was getting himself off by slipping through your come-covered lips, playing in the mess that he made, you imagined that moment much differently.

“I trust you,” you looked up at him through your lashes, holding your breasts and teasing your nipples between your fingers, your skin feeling as if you were electric, sensitive beyond comprehension, every touch and pinch feeling like ecstasy.

Apparently, he didn’t need much convincing. In your next breath, you felt his head sloppily notching against your throbbing core, fitting snug in the soft entrance of your cunt, cradled there in your warmth. You gasped, enjoying the sensation of being gently licked by his cockhead in the center of your folds, filling a void, a missing piece slotting into place.

Then, he met your eyes, staring into them with a fondness that you had only dreamed about, framed by that same furious arousal, like staring at a white-hot flame and knowing it could kill you but admiring its beauty anyway.

“Hands on your knees,” he said, jerking himself a bit as he dipped into your entrance.

John watched as you grabbed your knees, pulling your legs apart, opening yourself up to him in the most vulnerable way, presenting yourself to him fully, without shame, all the guilt you’d been dragging around now gone, giving yourself to him freely and wanting him to take you like a prize.

“So damn pretty,” he muttered to himself, staring down at your coupling, watching as he stuffed himself inside of you as carefully as he could, trying to let you adjust but unable to stop himself from thrusting deeper and deeper.

He pulled himself all the way out and tried to sink into you again, his eyes snapping up to your face at the sound of a hiss coming through your teeth as he made his way through your tight muscles. You felt him stop, thinking he had hurt you, but you shook your head,

“Don’t stop. I need you, John. I wanna feel so full.”

An animal noise escaped from his throat, and he rewarded your bravery, finishing the job with a snap of his hips, sealing himself fully inside of you. The root of his cock knocked the breath out of you, making you gasp in wonder at the sensation of being stretched beyond any memory. Yes, it had been a while, but you were no virgin. Nevertheless, John Price’s fat shaft was making you question whether you had ever truly been fucked before. His girth was changing your definition of the word.

If you had thought that he would treat you reverently, like you were made of precious lace, you had another thing coming. It was as if he had been waiting for this very moment, and he planned to take every advantage of the opportunity. Now that he had you, he used you.

His huge hands scooped up your legs, silently instructing you to lock them around his hips, keeping your thighs wide as he rutted into you. You hooked your ankles together, admiring the pulsing feel of his large glutes as he thrust forward, feeling him squeeze and release, pounding himself into you with his heavy weight.

John was too big. You had to admit that to yourself at this point. You could feel him stretching your hole, pushing your flesh beyond its usual limits. But, you were drunk off of the way his dick made you feel like you were constantly coming. You’d never truly been able to find your g-spot. Every now and then, when you had a really great partner, you thought that you’d orgasmed from the grinding thrusts of his rod, but it was rare. This, though, how John’s cock was spreading you, how you could feel him on all sides, the unimaginable pressure… he was hypnotizing.

He would pound himself into you, slamming his weight into your hips, and the shudder of your bones would make your body tremble. Then, when he was in, the pressure of his dense cockhead would flash a glittering wave of orgasmic pleasure through your core, making you think that you were about to explode. But, you never did. The pleasure never stopped. It never found a peak. It would just build and build in crashing, tumultuous waves, whirling through your blood like a cyclone, each throb feeling like spark lightning.

Your mind was racing. Should I stop him? Is this normal? Am I gonna pass the fuck out? But, you couldn’t speak. If you tried to form a sentence or even a coherent phrase, he would bottom out again, flooding his shaft with your wet slick, and you would be overcome by another wave of bliss, nothing more than a warm sheath for his mighty sword.

The edge of you lip was cool and wet, and you realized you were drooling, your tongue resting on your bottom teeth like a panting dog, helping you whimper and mewling your moans as you felt him mold you to fit.

“Shit, you are still so tight, love. Can barely put it in. Squeezin’ me… fuck,” he was sweating, hoarsely groaning in long, deep breaths, his belly expanding and contracting as he labored over you.

You didn’t reply. All of your words had been crushed into whining cries, helpless gasps. You took his hand and lifted it up to your mouth, placing it on your tongue, hoping he would fuck your throat with his fingers. The look on his face was one of desperate curiosity, wanting to please you, to serve you however he could. So, taking the hint, he curled his fingers away and pushed his first and middle fingers deeper into your mouth, exploring you softly.

You moaned loudly from the relief and closed your lips around his knuckles, shoving him all the way in to the top of his palm, beginning to suck and lick him as if it were a heavy cock instead of his hand.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he tilted his chin up to the ceiling, his neck bulging with his ragged breaths. Then, he turned his gaze back to you, watching you comfort yourself with his fingers, suckling on them like a hungry calf, needy and persistent.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed, “Tha’s bloody hot. Suck them deeper for me. Wanna feel your throat.”

You obliged him, your lips now reaching over his last knuckles onto the back of his hand and the callused ridge of his palm. If you stuck out your tongue, you could lick the middle of his palm, choking yourself with his fingertips and swallowing around them, clenching your throat in time with his thrusts.

“Mmmf-fuckkk,” he rasped, his face set in an agonized fury, “Gag yourself again. Choke on me, love. Just like that.”

You knew why he liked it. You could feel his response. Because every time you choked on his hand, your body would heave, trying to get air, trying to fight him away, and your pussy would contract, milking his thick shaft like a strong, wet fist. So, you gave him more, ignoring your mind’s fear and confusion, mentally moving past it, focusing only on his pleasure, and yours.

After a few more thrusts, the look in his eyes became one of concern, a worried flash of panic. He was going to come, and you knew it.

John tried to pull his hand back, gently attempting to leave the warmth of your mouth, but you didn’t let him go. You held his giant wrist in both hands, gripping him cruelly, forcing his fingers even deeper, bobbing your head as if you were sucking his dick.

“Gonna come. Fuck, I’m gonna – ungh. C’mon! Come with me, baby. Come with me. Lemme feel –”

He used his free hand to swipe roughly over your clit, changing those waves of cracking pleasure into a blistering orgasm, the heat of which seared over your whole body, making you feel like you had a fever. You felt yourself gushing between your legs, all of the wetness he had been churning within you being pushed out by the rhythmic clamping of your own muscles. You were screaming, but no one would hear you. All of your keening was subdued by his heavy hand, getting lost every time you choked for air. The only thing you heard was the rushing of breath from his spreading lungs and the creamy, slapping impact of his body against yours.

Then, a barking, guttural growl that he tried to hide, cutting it off and grinding his teeth to prevent himself from screaming as he emptied his load into you. You felt it hit your flesh within your core, like a burning splash of lava, shooting into you over and over, foaming and folding around the swollen head of his prick. His come felt heavy as it pooled at your end, deep in your belly, coating you like a glaze and settling over your womb.

You wanted him to stay inside of you forever, but he was finished and totally spent, his strength fading to a relaxed daze. You unhooked your legs and let him step away, feeling the loss of him in your mouth and your pussy, unable to even roll yourself off of the desk. So, you had to hang there, your legs unsupported, dangling wide apart, showing him exactly what he had just done to you. And he looked like he was enjoying the view. He stared down between your legs and watched his cream ooze out of your fucked hole, the flesh red and shining from its ordeal.

There was nothing in his office for comfort. But, he needed to soothe you. Some instinct within him was screaming in his mind to hold you in his arms and keep you safe. So, he pulled you off of the desk, holding you in his arms, and guided you down to the carpet, sitting with his back against the wall and letting you lean against his body, keeping you in his lap with tired arms.

You were both so sticky, but the sweat didn’t bother you. You were happy to rest your cheek on his shoulder, caressing his furry belly with your hands, trying not to pass out.

“You alright, love?” He asked in a low whisper, “Did I hurt you?”

“Gonna be sore tomorrow,” you smiled, not lifting your eyes to look at his face, choosing instead to stare at how his soft body hair ruffled over your fingernails as you lightly scratched them across his skin. “Are you okay, John?”

“Worried about you. About this,” he murmured, some of his strength coming back to his voice. You looked up at him now, watching as he carefully crafted his next words, “Don’t want this to be a one-time thing. But, we can’t… I’m –”

“John,” you interrupted his turmoil, “In ten days, you’ll be in the House of fucking Commons. Then, you can do whatever you want. Until then…” You reached down and fondled his exhausted cock tenderly, making his body jerk from how sensitive he was, “I can be your little secret.”

He lifted your chin with his thumb just as he had at the start of this dreamlike encounter, kissing you tenderly, making sure he could feel your mouth against his, slipping his tongue over your lips just to reach the ridge of your teeth before pulling back again, his eyes turning back to that lascivious rage,

“You don’t deserve that. I want them to bloody well know that you’re mine.”

You didn’t ask who “they” were. That was just how John spoke to you. It was always you and him versus them. The media, the Parliament, the world… it didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. But, you knew better than to let idealism cloud your judgment.

“Be patient, John,” you caressed his cheek, “Win your seat. I’m not going anywhere.”

Finally, a small smile twitched on the corner of his mouth and he held you closer, hugging you to his chest,

“Not true,” he paused, looking down at your quizzical expression, a playful gleam in his eyes, “You’re coming to my flat, crawling in my bed, and letting me fuck that perfect cunt again.”

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