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exquisiteserotonin · 1 year ago

Text

Love & Desire

Dieter x F!Reader

Pedro Across the Street (PATS) x F! Reader

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Pairing: Dieter X F! Reader; Pedro Across the Street (PATS) X F!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 4.2K

Summary: Realizing how far you've fallen, you and Dieter decide to set some ground rules. Realizing that life is too short, you let yourself let go and have a little bit of fun. What will Dieter think??? (Younger Dieter before The Bubble)

Warnings: All oral (f!receiving) In case anyone doesn't know Pedro Across the Street is NOT Pedro (not RPF) it is from his character Calls.

A/N - The follow up to my first Dieter fic, which you can find here!

As always big shoutouts to may babes @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @basicoccult @redhotkitchen @blueheat1-blog @best-little-secret @imalrightllama @arcanefox207

Dieter had put you in the worst position as he stood outside on your patio looking at you expectantly through the French doors. The birds serenaded the sunrise with morning melodies as he continued to wrap gently at your window. Pushing against the mattress, you hoisted yourself up gently placing your feet on the hardwood floors. Like a small boat wafting gently on the ocean you were rocking back and forth even though you hadn’t stood up. The lamplight illuminated his features perfectly, his eyes wide and expectant while the peachy, golden sunset painted his brown hair a warmer hue.

You stumbled to the door, the floor creaking beneath your feet, a sound you usually found comfort in. Instead, it felt like your feet were trudging through mud. Unlocking the door, you let him in without a word. His eyes sparkled. He must have had a good time. He followed you, fingertips lightly gripping your hips. Half asleep and hungover you sank back into your bed curling yourself into a fetal position.

“How was the rest of the party?” He asked you quietly, stripping down to his boxers and climbing next to you into bed.

You closed your eyes, feeling your jaw tighten as he put his arm around you. The tears threatened to return but you somehow managed to hold them at bay with a tight squeeze of your eyes.

“Fine, don’t really remember,” you responded, your head still spinning.

“Awesome,” he said with a laugh that was raspy and endearing to you through your disappointment. “Well, I had a kickass time; that photographer at the party, you know---she’s worked with a lot of high-profile actors and actresses and---”

“D, D?” you interjected with a groan. “Can you tell me later? In the morning---I mean when we’re both really awake? My head is killing me.”

Dieter responded genuinely, “Oh fuck, yeah sorry!”

“No, it’s fine.”

Most people should have and would have understood that it was not, indeed, fine. Perpetually lost in his own world, Dieter was not most people.

“Good night, angel,” Dieter murmured, pulling you tighter to him.

And as much as you wanted to push his grip away from your waist, you let it stay there like a memory of how he held you so many times before. With one deep breath in and one long exhale out, you let sleep take you.

***

You were awake before Dieter, the sunlight filtering harshly again through the blinds. A long, hot shower was a necessity this morning as a dull headache still lingered in your head. When you finished, you found Dieter still snoring quietly curled up with your pillow. You needed to let him sleep, so you could have breakfast to yourself and think about how you would approach your conversation this morning. He might not have sensed it, but something changed. You desperately wanted him to have even an inkling of the same feeling that you had. But it was your mistake, you let yourself fall.

A simple breakfast of a bagel, butter, and strawberry preserves was all you needed. The rays of sun streamed through the window of your breakfast nook, making your ordinary breakfast look perfectly picturesque. It reminded you of days when Dieter wasn’t there nearly every night and every morning and how that could be easier, more peaceful than having to worry about him every day. You imagined just how good it was on the days he found himself in your home. Maybe it was time to make things simple again.

After you finished your breakfast, you grabbed a magazine and began flipping through it until Dieter ambled through the archway of your kitchen, scratching his belly and yawning.

“G’morning,” he said through sleepy eyes, “you’re already up.”

“It’s pretty much the afternoon, Dieter,” you said, closing the magazine and pushing the chair across from you for him to sit. “Feel free to grab anything from the pantry for breakfast, if you’re hungry.”

He smiled at you, the corner of his eyes crinkling with a smile so big that it put extra emphasis on the dimple on his right cheek. Looking at him across from you just being himself was going to make this so much harder.

“Last night was wild,” he said, his eyes wide and excited, “that photographer was a really cool girl, knows a lot of people---it could lead to something really good.”

You laughed and before you could even think you asked, “Was she a good lay?”

“What?” Dieter asked, taken aback at the question.

You couldn’t back down now. You leaned in closer, resting your chin on your hands.

“D, it’s ok, you can tell me,” you insisted, trying to stay calm about it, “besides, you might benefit in case there are some things that I might be missing when you stay the night.”

Dieter’s ears perked at the thought, and he gave you a devilish smile as he rested his feet on your legs.

“I mean, that part was OK,” Dieter finally admitted, “but she doesn’t really know what I like? You know?”

Anxiety tightened inside your chest, knowing what was going to come next, “Hey, so this thing we have it’s good, right?”

“Uhh, yeah,” Dieter replied, looking at you as though you’d asked the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I know this is a casual thing,” you said, “and we never really set expectations or ground rules, I guess.”

He took his feet and set them firmly on the floor as he leaned forward to listen.

‘“I mean, we should probably let each other know when we’re available, right?” you suggested with a laugh that you hoped sounded as carefree as possible. “I mean how embarrassing would it have been if you came knocking and I was with someone.”

It would have been a lie to say that you didn’t feel a moment of fleeting satisfaction when you saw the confusion wash over Dieter’s face when you said those words. He sat staring at you, trying to figure out what he was going to say next. An advanced feeling of relief lifted your shoulders knowing that you had prepared yourself for any answer that he might give.

“But this doesn’t have to stop,” he pulled his chair close to you so that his long legs were framing yours, “right?”

The way the inner corners of his eyebrows angled upward to draw lines of disappointment on his forehead slowly worked on you, trying to chip away at the fortress you’d set up around your heart. When he began to run his hands up your thighs, you shut your eyes tight at the feeling of his fingers massaging over their surface area until they climbed up to your waist.

“Fuck no,” you laughed, “you think I’d give it up that easy.”

“Good,” Dieter growled, bringing his hand to caress the right side of your face, gripping you just behind your ear, fingers laced in your hair, “because, I think we’ve got a good thing going on.”

You let him kiss you and let the softness of his pouty lips send shivers down your spine. He pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you underneath your loose t-shirt. You pushed his face away from you with a laugh.

“Go take a shower!” You said, giving him a teasing poke to his side, “I don’t know where that girl’s been.”

“Hey!” Dieter exclaimed. “I used protection.”

You swatted him out of the kitchen. When you knew he was gone, you ran your hands through your hair in frustration. A constant mantra repeated in your head telling yourself it had to get easier from here. It just had to.

***

The universe listened, giving you a respite from Dieter. It was as if your time apart gave you each time to thrive in your own different ways. Your job was going well, with nothing much to complain about. Auditions and offers for roles started trickling in for him. Most of all, it gave you time to be alone without having to worry about a man in your bed. But having had Dieter so regularly made you spoiled and this drought was beginning to drive you crazy. So, when your friends invited you to a concert at The El Rey, your attendance was obvious.

You were putting on the finishing touches on your outfit when you heard a knock at your door. Skipping to the door, you saw Alex her blonde waves bouncing as she waved at you through the glass panels of your front door. Her mouth opened into a wide smile as she nodded approvingly of your outfit. You twirled and curtsied, showing off your black miniskirt, diaphanous cream-colored blouse, giving just a peek of your black, lace bustier underneath.

“Well, if your aim is to forget about Dieter, tonight,” Alex said with a raised brow, “I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to find someone who can fulfill that goal.”

“I am not trying to forget him, Alex,” you responded with a sigh, “we’re not together, I just really, really need to get laid.”

“Well, either way, I have confidence in you,” Alex teased with a wink as you put on a pair of chunky, black boots.

When you and Alex arrived, the theater was already buzzing with a crowd of people. Vibrant purple and red lights illuminated the room and the people with shades of red, pink, magenta, and royal purple. The variety of people in the crowd amused you. Alex and you took turns pointing out particularly interesting people you saw in the crowd.

“Oooh, what about him?” Alex asked, gesturing towards a tall, clean cut bespectacled man wearing a light tweed jacket over a striped polo shirt with khaki pants.

“He looks like an elevated Steve from Blue’s Clues,” you cringed, “and now I can’t get that image out of my head…pass.”

Alex rolled her eyes before you continued to scan the crowd.

“What about him?” you pointed to a lithe man, with a full but neatly groomed beard wearing a red flannel shirt, jeans, and a beanie over mussed, light brown hair.

You even managed to elicit a sneaky smile from him.

Alex looked over at him and then back at you with a grimace.

“You mean the one dressed like a lumberjack?” Alex said, her voice monotone and unimpressed.

“Come on, it’s a style,” you insisted.

“He’s wearing a beanie and flannel and we live in Southern California,” Alex stated plainly.

“Maybe he runs cold?”

“He’s dressed like a lumberjack!” She said again, but more forcefully this time. “Look, just because you’re desperate for a deep dicking doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be picky.”

“I’m not desperate,” you pouted, looking at her from the corner of your eye.

“Whatever, go grab a drink, maybe you’ll meet someone at the bar,” Alex suggested. “I’ll keep a lookout here.”

Nodding, you pushed your way through the crowd which was growing in size and volume as the band began to do a quick sound check before starting their set. The bar was thankfully not as packed at the moment as you expected it to be. A quick flash of a smile, and the bartender attended to you almost immediately. You leaned over the bar top, knowing well that you were putting your figure on display. Someone would be bound to notice. No sooner than the bartender returned with your beer, did someone approach you.

“Stella,” the man said, pointing to your beer that matched his own. His voice was deep and rich, like liquid velvet undulating from his throat, “Good choice.”

He was a little taller than average, with warm brown hair, and brown eyes that glimmered with mischief. His broad, defined shoulders, arms, and lithe waist were accentuated by a grayish-blue Henley t-shirt with all, but the last button undone. His indigo-colored jeans hugged his legs in a way that begged you to look at them, taunting you to think about what might be underneath. His face was rugged and handsome, marked by a prominent nose at its center, the kind you’d see on the statue of a Greek god. He wore a mustache above pouty lips that led to a sparse, but well-groomed beard that emphasized the chiseled angle of his jawline.

It was difficult not to stare as he licked his lips before curling them into a sinful grin. You brought your bottle to your lips for another swig of beer and then slowly moved your gaze from his lips, over the landscape of his face until they rested on his eyes. With one long thumb, he smoothed his bottom lip as his eyes studied your lips, your face, and your eyes in turn.

“I’m Pedro,” he said with an accented vibrato, rolling the r of his name with the tip of his tongue.

He paused for a moment looking almost embarrassed and laughed as he tapped three fingers to his lips, “Look, I’m actually terrible at flirting. I was just minding my own business trying to have a drink and then I just got so distracted…looking at you.”

Against your better judgment a laugh escaped you, one that quickly faded away the moment Pedro stared directly into your eyes, then to your lips, and back to your eyes once again.

What a line! You thought to yourself. Wonder what Dieter would think of this guy.

You swatted the thought from your head, frustrated that Dieter was still occupying your mind even though he’d been away filming for nearly three months.

Your attention turned back to Pedro, thinking of how he wrapped his own name in a Spanish accent that melted into perfect, unaccented English. You brushed your fingertips across the bar top as you turned to fully face him, taking one step towards him. He took the hand you held out to introduce yourself, but not before shamelessly looking up and down the length of your body.

“You’re not from here, are you?” you asked, biting lightly on your bottom lip. “I thought I heard a little bit of an accent.”

“Well, I was born in Chile, so that’s probably what you heard,” he replied leaning forward as the sounds from the band and the crowd grew louder.

“I’ve always wanted to learn Spanish,” you said, taking yet another step forward, close enough to breath him in. It was an inexplicably intoxicating smell that reminded you of falling rain in an evergreen forest and really good coffee.

At that same time, the band announced the beginning of their set with a loud riff of a guitar and the theater erupted in chest pounding noise. Pedro placed a hand to his ear and shook his head as he gestured to the band. Simply taking this as an invitation to bring your body close to his. Setting a gentle touch to his forearm, you stood on your tiptoes to brush your lips against the side of his face, feeling his fine stubble prickle against your skin, until you were whispering in his ear.

“Sorry, I just said ‘I have always wanted to learn Spanish’,” you could feel his chest quiver in an exhale as you breathed those words into his ears.

“Dios mio, que rico hueles,” he said in a whispered growl.

You didn’t know what it meant, but from the way his hand was gripping low on your hip you knew it had to be something good. Clearing your throat, you moved your face from his with disappointment. Instantly, the whooping of the crowd, the drums, the bassline, and the guitars were cacophonous to your ears.

“Maybe you could give me a lesson some time?”

“Oh, querida,” he said leaning into you, so that your back pressed against the bar, “I live across the street.”

“Well, Pedro from across the street,” you said, running your fingertips along the hem of his Henley, “wanna get out of here?”

Pulling him close by one of his belt loops, you drew an invisible pathway with the tip of your nose from his jawline to his lips. Your lips followed the path until they met his with a small peck. He moved to take hold of your hand and you allowed it, even interlacing your fingers with his as he led you away from the bar. As you navigated towards the exit, Alex spotted you. A look of bewilderment had overtaken her face. She grabbed your arm protectively.

“Hey,” she said, pulling you close to her, “where are you going?”

Her eyes shifted to Pedro with concern and then back to you.

“Hey Alex, this is Pedro, he lives across the street!” you added excitedly, gesturing towards Pedro.

“That’s me,” he added in confirmation, “I do live across the street, the apartments on Wilshire.”

“Are you nuts? You just met him!” she said, holding her face close to yours.

You looked back at her with a raised brow, “I mean, that was kind of the point of tonight, Alex.”

“Ok, backtrack,” she said quickly, “I just want to make sure you’re cool, he’s cool, and that you’re safe.”

Before you could assure her, he interjected with a slinky grin, “Hey, I promise I’ll keep your girl safe --- I mean, you can even join us if you want if you’re into that.”

After assuring Alex of your safety in multiple ways (giving her Pedro’s address, phone number, and email address, a full plan of your route home and the time she needed to come find you if she couldn’t reach you) she begrudgingly let you go. His apartment was only a few blocks from the theater, and you marveled at the modern and well-appointed amenities.

“Wow…this place is really nice,” you expressed in awe. “How do you---?”

“Ohh, I have a roommate,” he answered with a shrug.

You weren’t convinced of his answer and decided that he must be a trust fund baby like yourself or that he had a sugar mama. The secrecy wasn’t enough to get you to leave, when you could just tell by the way he moved you would be in for a good night. You followed him upstairs after he keyed into his building, a short trip to the second floor. With each step upwards, your pussy clenched in anticipation of him.

He pressed his back against his apartment door, his eyes glued to you as he made a show of unlocking and opening it. A quick flick of the light switch illuminated the space with mood lighting in shades lavender, blue, and coral. Absolutely cheesy, yet effective. You might have laughed but he pulled you to him with the velocity of a cheetah, attaching his hungry mouth to yours.

He pushed you against the door, lifting your delicate shirt over your head before removing his own, tossing them both to the floor. His large hands framed your face. The grip of his arms was strong and sure, but his touch was sensual and soft against your skin. His right hand grazed the surface of your neck until they traveled down your clavicle down to the center of your chest. Two fingers traced where your breast met the cup of your bustier until he cupped it with his hand. With his thumb, index, and middle finger he massaged, flicked, and twisted at your nipples. The shivers kept building just from the touch of his fingers on your nipples, moans escaping from your lips. He squatted and wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up so you could wrap your legs around him.

With a heady excitement, it felt like you were floating as he carried you to the kitchen island. You set down your phone next to you and shoved mail, magazines, and errant cups to the floor as he helped you onto the island. His hands massaged up your thighs, beckoning more of your arousal to settle into your underwear. He kissed you again, but deeper, his tongue swirling and undulating in your mouth, desperate for you. Pushing you further up the island, his hands coaxed you into lowering your head down to the cool marble surface. Slowly, he pulled your miniskirt from your hips.

“Pedro, wait…wait,” you moaned, attempting to catch your breath, “what about your roommate?”

Using his steady hands, he pulled your lacy black underwear from you, and you felt the cool touch of the marble beneath your ass.

“If he finds us, let him find us,” he said in between planting wet kisses up your thighs and then added, “but don’t worry he won’t be home for a little while.”

You couldn’t explain, but you could somehow feel the grin that had formed on his lips as he crept closer and closer to your center. A gasp freed itself from the confines of your throat as he licked a long, slow, and deliciously measured stripe up the center of your folds. He swirled his tongue at your center in broad circles, leaving you moaning when he paused only to lick up your folds just as he did before.

“Oh, god, Pedro,” you gasped quietly, holding the back of your hand over your lips as if it would stifle your moan.

“I told you,” his tongue lavished at your center once again, “he’s not home, so you’ll be able to scream as loud as you want every time, I make you come.”

He darted in and out of you at the last few words he uttered, and you yelped in pleasure at every single one. A slow drip of saliva left his mouth to your clit and his mouth found its home there for the next few minutes, sucking it and undulating his tongue slowly, then quickly, and then slowly again. With each move of his tongue and mouth, he brought you closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy. Your hips involuntarily bucked towards his face, pressing his nose closer to your clit only making you moan again. Wrapping his arms around your thighs he gripped you tightly and pulled your hips closer to his face until he buried his tongue deep within you, shaking his head back and forth as he fucked you unrelentingly with his broad tongue.

And true to his word, he made you wail, louder and louder with each taste he took of you.

“Tú sabes bien,” he groaned at your center, as he pushed into you with two long, thick fingers.

“Fuuuuck! Ohmygod, Pedro!” you moaned through desperate gasps of air as he continued to suck at your clit while pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“That’s it, cariño,” he praised, “you’re so tight, think you can take a third finger?”

It wasn’t a real question, not one that he needed an answer to and not one that you needed to answer. Just banter, just a tease before he eased another into your throbbing core. A fire was beginning to kindle in your abdomen, and you could feel yourself slowly beginning to quiver involuntarily. All you could hear was the obscene sounds that were Pedro’s deep, wanton, and wet moans. He knew you were close and took so much pleasure in bringing closer and closer to the edge.

Suddenly the repetitive, shrill ring of your cell phone broke the air. Pedro continued moving his fingers in and out of you, grabbing your phone with his free hand. A disappointed cry left you as his mouth left you.

“Who is Die-ter?” He licked into you again, his breath and voice vibrating against your core and even though you desperately wanted to answer him, all you could do was gasp and moan.

“Hey, yeah, hermano, she can’t come to the phone right now,” you heard him say, your eyes opening in shock with the realization that he had answered the call, “I’m about to give her the best orgasm of her life.”

You heard him set your phone down as he curled his fingers like he was beckoning you to move to him and his tongue found his way to your clit again, circling and flicking at you without respite until you were arching your back and crying out from your release, your thighs shaking around his head.

As you came down from your high, the ethereal glow of the mood lighting added to the floating feeling that wrapped around your body.

“Need some water, querida?” He asked as he walked towards a kitchen cabinet grabbing a glass.

You nodded dreamily and took Pedro’s hand when he offered it to you, helping you to sit up. He handed you the freshly poured glass of water and you sipped it, keeping your eyes on him. When you set it down, he pulled you off the kitchen island, tracing a line from your neck to your lips with his tongue. He pulled your bustier off you, leaving your body bare, flushed, and ready for him.

“So, cariño,” he growled as he took your hand, leading it to dip into his unzipped jeans, where you cupped your hand firmly around his cock and then his balls, “wanna fuck?”

The answer was obvious, you could feel it in the perk of your nipples and as you began to drip with desire again. You nodded in confirmation and let Pedro lead you towards his room, making the conscious decision to leave your phone in the kitchen.

Maybe you’d call Dieter tomorrow. Just maybe.

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