#you may notice some side effects like a compulsion to come back............................... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 7 months ago

Text

Hypnotized

Lando Norris x hypnotherapist!Reader

Summary: in which Lando becomes intimately familiar with the professional (and not so professional) benefits of hypnosis

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent (though Lando is very much a willing participant), and temporary mindbreak

You lean back in your plush leather chair, taking a sip of tea as you look over the notes for your next client. Lando Norris — a rising star of Formula 1, seeking help to improve his performance on the track. You’ve worked with elite athletes before, but there’s something about this case that intrigues you.

The door opens and he strides in, radiating youthful confidence. “Ms. Y/L/N, thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Please, have a seat Lando. And call me Y/N,” you reply with a warm smile. “I have to admit, when your team reached out, I was surprised. Most drivers come to me later in their careers when the mental side gets tougher.”

He settles onto the couch across from you. “Yeah, well, I’m a bit of an overachiever,” he grins cheekily. “I figure I should get every advantage I can while I’m young.”

You can’t help but be charmed by his boyish cockiness. “Fair enough. So, walk me through what’s bringing you here. What are you hoping hypnotherapy can do for you?”

Lando scratches his head, suddenly looking a bit sheepish. “To be honest, I’m not totally sure? The team psychologists have helped with some stuff like visualization and confidence building. But I feel like there’s still … I don’t know, another level I can’t quite tap into?”

He pauses, cheeks reddening slightly. “I may have also heard some … rumors about hypnosis helping drivers get, uh, in the zone in a different way.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “I see. And what sort of zone were you hoping to reach exactly?”

“Just, you know, being totally focused. Primed to perform at my absolute peak,” he answers quickly, not meeting your eyes. “Eliminate any lingering doubts or hesitation.”

“Mmmhmm,” you murmur, watching his fidgeting increase. It’s clear there’s more to this, perhaps some adolescent fantasy driven by locker room talk. You decide to have a bit of fun drawing it out.

“Well, maximum focus and confidence under extreme stress is certainly one of the primary benefits of hypnotherapy for athletes. Though of course, there can be … other effects depending on the suggestions given.”

Lando’s eyes flick up to meet yours, pupils dilating with obvious intrigue. “Other effects? Like what?”

You shrug lightly. “Oh, lowered inhibition, increased susceptibility to instructions, compulsions to obey ...” You trail off, letting the implications hang in the air. “But I’m sure whatever rumors you’ve heard are just overblown exaggerations.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “R-right, of course. So, uh, how would we go about getting me in that totally focused zone?”

You can scarcely suppress a grin — he’s hooked now, curiosity and hormones getting the better of him. “Well, first we’d need to get you in a deeply relaxed state, open and receptive to suggestions. I’d start with some deep breathing exercises, maybe have you focus on the sound of my voice ...”

Unconsciously, Lando’s eyelids grow heavier as you speak in a low, soothing tone. “Breath slowly deepening, muscles going deliciously loose and limp ...”

He blinks hard, shaking his head minutely. “Sorry, what was I saying?”

“Don’t worry,” you assure him. “A little taste of just how quickly you might respond. Hypnotic states can sneak up quite easily when you’re not prepared for them.”

Lando swallows again, but there’s no hiding the interest smoldering in his eyes now. “That’s … good to know. So, uh, once I was in this state, what sort of suggestions would you give?”

You lean forward, holding his gaze. “Anything you need, darling. Perhaps prompts to fill your mind with dizzying focus — a white hot, all-consuming need to push every limit and achieve perfection. Or maybe something to strip away distractions and doubts, leaving you deliciously pliant and desperate to follow instructions without hesitation ...”

His breath catches as ripples of arousal play across his features. You’ve dangled the bait thoroughly now, time to reel him in.

“Of course, that’s all just theoretical for an athlete like you,” you continue lightly. “I’m sure you’d only want suggestions tailored for pure professional benefit.”

Lando opens his mouth, then closes it, visibly wrestling with indecision. Finally, he sits up straight, jaw setting in boyish determination.

“Actually … I think maybe exploring some of those other effects could be useful too. You know, for full preparation.”

You bite back a smile — he’s all bravado again, feigning nonchalance. How delicious.

“Well, if you’re certain. We should probably start with a simple induction and suggestion, see how you respond.”

Rising from your chair, you cross the room to where he sits, movements slow and deliberate. Lando’s eyes are immediately drawn to the sway of your hips, the rapid rise and fall of his chest betraying his arousal.

“Just relax and look into my eyes ...” you murmur, voice dropping an octave as you hold up a pendant and begin tracing figure eights before his face. “Let your mind follow the path of the pendulum, breathing slowly … in and out ...”

His pupils blown wide, Lando is soon leaning back bonelessly, mouth slightly ajar. A few dazed blinks is all the resistance he offers as you trail featherlight touches down his arm.

“There’s a good boy … nice and open, isn’t it? Let everything else fall away except the need to please me.”

A shudder wracks his frame and you can see the tendons in his neck straining, fighting the compulsion already worming into his psyche. But his eyes remain locked on yours, drowning in your control.

“I … I want to ...” he stammers helplessly.

“Shhhh,” you soothe, bending closer so that your lips nearly brush his ear. “You don’t need to worry about what you want anymore. That’s my choice now, understood?”

He gives a tiny nod and you feel a surge of heady power.

“Such a good boy. And to reward your obedience, you’re going to take off your shirt. Slowly ...”

There’s a moment of tension, then Lando raises trembling hands to grasp the hem of his shirt. You can see the mottled flush spreading across his torso as inch by inch it’s revealed to you. His breath is coming in ragged pants by the time the shirt drops to the floor, chest heaving with mingled want and shame.

“Very nice,” you practically purr. “I can see you’re already feeling the compulsions seeping in. Should we make them … deeper?”

His head bobs dumbly and you laugh, low and throaty.

“That’s what I thought. Now, lay back for me ...”

Lando immediately obeys, body going pliant and helpless. You pull over an ottoman, sitting so you can gently straddle his hips, relishing the hitch in his breath as your heat settles against him.

“You’re going to do absolutely everything I say without hesitation or doubt,” you whisper harshly, watching him shudder. “Any instructions, no matter what they may be, you’ll follow with desperate enthusiasm.”

He whimpers, hips twitching upwards in mute plea. Grasping his jaw firmly, you force his eyes to yours.

“This is for your own good, darling. We need to burn away every last shred of selfishness and pride so you can ascend to true, shattering focus. You understand, don’t you?”

“Y-yes … yes,” he slurs, already sinking deeper into degrading bliss.

You reward him with a slow, filthy grind of your hips and he cries out unabashedly. Everywhere your hands and mouth worship his skin, you can feel the tremors of arousal and surrender.

“That’s perfect,” you murmur against the hollow of his throat. “Now, I want you to strip the rest of the way ...”

Before the words have fully left your lips, Lando is frantically shucking his pants and boxers, whining as his flushed length bobs free. The brazen lust and need in his hooded eyes would be shocking from the bashful newbie you met earlier.

You give an approving hum, thrilling at how quickly your control has already remade him. One fingernail traces along rigid flesh and he bucks shamelessly into your touch.

“You’re being such a good boy. I think it’s time we really sealed this new role into your head. Imagine the most dizzying, overwhelming orgasm you’ve ever had, multiplied a hundredfold ...”

His eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent wail at just the suggestion. You grip him firmly, relishing the desperate whine that bursts from his lips.

“You’re going to come like that, harder than you ever dreamed. And as the lightning arcs of bliss engulf your entire being, all that pleasure will become inextricably entwined with an overwhelming need to obey my every whim ...”

Lando is panting and keening, hips pumping up into your tight fist. You can feel his body straining closer to that precipice, cords of muscle standing out in sharp relief. With a final brutal stroke, you growl the trigger words,

“Come for me, love!”

His back bows in a silent scream, mouth frozen in rapturous torment. You gentle him through each shuddering pulse, ensuring every layer of consciousness is saturated with soul-shattering ecstasy and the new compulsions you’ve locked within.

At last, he sags back to the couch, eyes glassy and unfocused. You bend close, lips caressing the damp hair at his temple.

“Tell me, darling, how does it feel to be remade into perfection?”

He blinks slowly, lips curving in a blissful smile. “I … I need to obey ...” he slurs dozily. “Please … use me however you desire ...”

You chuckle darkly, letting nails rake over his sensitized flesh and making him buck weakly. “Oh I will, lover. I’m going to take you to shattering new heights of surrender. You won’t be able to so much as enter the cockpit without shuddering need to please me foremost in your mind ...”

His only response is a quiet whimper, eyes already slipping shut in sated exhaustion, completely yours to reshape however you wish.

You settle back, excitement thrilling through you at all the delicious possibilities stretching ahead.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you make your way through the paddock area towards the McLaren motorhome at the British Grand Prix. Fans press eagerly against the barriers lining the path, craning for a glimpse of their racing idols as they’re escorted by burly security guards.

You keep your head held high, unruffled by the frenzy of flashing cameras and shouted requests for autographs as you stride confidently alongside Lando.

He casts you a sidelong glance, the excited energy thrumming off him in waves. “Thanks for being here, Y/N,” he murmurs with a small, bashful smile. “Having you in my corner calms my nerves a bit.”

You reach out to give his arm a reassuring squeeze, warmth blooming in your chest. “Of course, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Your voice takes on a slightly teasing lilt as you add, “Besides, this way I can provide my … specialized services should you require them before the race.”

A dusky flush steals across Lando’s cheeks at your words, his eyes darkening in a way that sends a curl of heat unfurling low in your belly. Before he can respond, one of the crew members is ushering you both towards a nondescript door.

With a nod of thanks, Lando pushes through the door, allowing you to enter the modestly appointed room first before following and securing it behind you.

The space is small yet functional — equipped with a well-worn sofa situated before a large television displaying timing data, along with an armchair tucked into the corner. Your gaze lands on the single bed shoved against the far wall and you suddenly find it difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat.

“Sorry about the mess,” Lando says almost sheepishly, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “I haven’t exactly had much time to tidy up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you murmur distractedly, already hyper-aware of the thick tension charging the air between your bodies, crackling like a livewire in the small distance separating you.

Lando opens his mouth as if to speak, then seems to think better of it, shuffling his feet almost bashfully. You can practically see the thoughts whirring at a million miles an hour behind his furrowed brow, weighing him down as nerves and doubts threaten to shatter his hard-won focus.

Without a word, you close the distance between you, cradling his face in your hands to force him to meet your gaze.

“Let me help you,” you breathe, your voice low and gentle yet laced with that commanding tone he can never seem to resist.

He immediately melts into your touch, the taut lines of stress slowly easing from his features. “Please,” he whispers back, every inch of nervous energy and kinetic vibration seeming to melt from his body as your thumbs trace soothing patterns across the sharp planes of his cheekbones. “Need you to clear my mind.”

A soft, fond smile curves your lips at the naked entreaty in his tone. This man — so cocky and confident in most aspects of life, yet so unguarded and sweetly vulnerable when it’s just the two of you.

You continue your tender ministrations, watching in rapt fascination as his eyes drift shut and his breathing grows steady and even. When you finally speak, your words are low and hypnotic, the timbre of your voice wrapping around Lando like a warm blanket ushering him down, down into delicious oblivion.

“That’s it, darling … let yourself sink deeper with each breath. Shut out all the noise and distractions — everything except my voice guiding you. Focus on the rise and fall of your chest, the gentle thump of your heartbeat … allow your body to grow heavy and pliant as you let me take the lead ...”

He shivers slightly, yielding fully to your hypnotic trance with a soft, contented exhalation. In this blissed-out state, his features are lax and utterly at peace, the hard lines of tension and worry melting away until he looks almost cherubic.

“There you are,” you can’t help but murmur in approval, trailing your fingertips along the sharp line of his jaw. “So perfect and calm for me.” Your gaze rakes over the long fans of his lashes fanning across his cheekbones, the full pout of his lips parted ever so slightly on deep, even breaths. He looks utterly debauched, despite the fact that you’ve barely even touched him yet.

Unable to resist such temptation any longer, you bend to capture Lando’s lips in a slow kiss — gentle at first, then deepening into something more heated, more ravenous as your tongue sweeps into the heat of his mouth to tangle with his own.

He remains completely pliant beneath your wandering hands and questing mouth, body thrumming with blissful surrender as you map every lush inch of him.

Finally, breathless and flushed, you tear your mouth from his with a soft groan of regret. “God, darling … what you do to me ...” you murmur, trailing hot, openmouthed kisses along the stubbled line of his jaw, down the taut cords of his neck. “Just seeing you like this, so gorgeous and willing … falling so deep for me … I could take you right here like this and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

You scrape your teeth over that sensitive patch of skin just below his ear and he trembles almost violently, a low whine spilling past his lips even as his head lolls back to allow you better access. When you press an openmouthed kiss to his wildly fluttering pulse point, his voice comes out low and syrupy sweet.

“Please, Y/N … please ...” he slurs in a breathy exhale, body arching reflexively into yours as his hands come up to clutch at your hips in a silent entreaty.

A frisson of lust races down your spine at his wanton plea, stoking the simmering ember of arousal into a roaring blaze. How quickly his mind has slipped into a glorious, aching haze of want and need for your touch.

You could so easily press your advantage right now — undress him with exquisite slowness, bend him over and take him in delirious new ways that would leave him utterly incoherent. The mental images alone are nearly enough to make you growl in feral possessiveness.

Somehow, you manage to retain a herculean thread of control, nuzzling against the heated skin of Lando’s neck as you press him gently yet insistently towards the bed until the backs of his thighs hit the mattress and he sinks onto the soft cotton sheets with a dazed exhale. His eyes are molten embers burning with naked want and trust as he gazes up at you, outright trembling with the effort of holding himself back from hauling you down on top of him.

Gently brushing a stray lock of hair from his brow, you settle yourself to straddle his lap, reveling in the delicious points of heated skin against skin where your bodies make contact through the thin barrier of your clothing. For an aching span of heartbeats, you drink in the sight of him — kiss-swollen lips parted on shallow pants, the tempting vee of his open shirt collar exposing just a tantalizing sliver of his smooth chest, hard planes of muscle rippling beneath tanned skin as he quivers with ill-restrained desire.

“Beautiful,” you husk in a low rasp, summoning every ounce of your rapidly waning willpower to force the words past the molten heat in your throat. “You are so fucking beautiful like this.”

Lando swallows thickly at the unadulterated lust and reverence saturating your tone, his throat bobbing convulsively. “You … you should see yourself,” he finally manages in a strained murmur. “You’re a goddess ...” His hands come up of their own volition to splay across the supple curves of your waist, tracing searing paths across your skin as if to memorize every lush dip and swell.

A throaty chuckle escapes you as you lean into his touch in shameless encouragement. “I could devour you in this moment and I’d still crave more.” Dipping your head to drag openmouthed kisses along the salty-sweet skin of his collarbone, you muse heatedly, “In fact, I’m tempted to lock that door and have you right here like the decadent treat you are.”

“God, yes ...” Lando outright groans at your words, hips arching up in a desperate, instinctual grind against yours that leaves you both shuddering at the sudden, intoxicating friction. His fingers curl into the soft flesh of your hips, pupil-blown eyes full of unrestrained need as he gazes up at you like you’re the answer to his every secret desire. “Please, Y/N … anything, just … need you.”

The reverent, naked pleading in his voice steals the breath from your lungs and you’re abruptly reminded of the singular responsibility you have — not just as his lover, but as the person he’s entrusted to guide and ground him when he’s spiraling.

Your mouth curves into an indulgent smile as you tenderly cradle his face in your palms, tapping into that core of composure and peace that helps tether you both in moments like this.

“In due time, my love,” you murmur, leaning in to pepper slow, lingering kisses across his brow, along the delicate skin beneath his eyes. You feel Lando physically sink back against the mattress with a soft exhalation as your tender ministrations lull him once more into a state of relaxation and receptivity — his mind clearing of everything but blissful focus on you and your touch.

“Remember why you’re here, and all the hard work that brought you to this moment,” you continue in a low, soothing murmur against his flushed skin. “You’ve poured your heart and soul into this dream, and now it’s time to reap the sweet fruit of your efforts. Leave behind all the doubts, all the fear and anxious energy that’s been holding you back.” Arching up on your knees, you gently resettle your weight so you’re seated flush against his core, waves of heat radiating between your joined bodies in delicious waves with every motion and shallow breath.

“Let go of everything but my voice, my touch grounding you in this moment. This is your destiny, Lando — all you have to do is embrace it.” With your final murmured words, you seal the sentiment by slanting your mouth over his in a filthy, openmouthed kiss that quickly descends into pure, unbridled passion as he releases an unrestrained keen of surrender.

His arms come up to band around your waist, clutching you impossibly closer as if to merge your very beings into one searing point of euphoric light. You lose yourselves in the wet slide of tongue and teeth and racing heartbeats until the buzzing of Lando’s phone against the nearby nightstand finally jolts you from your haze of lust and need. For a suspended beat, you simply drink in the sight of him — debauched and beautifully wrecked in the best way possible, with slick lips parted around panting breaths and hair tousled in a riotous mess.

“Time?” Lando finally rasps, sounding as utterly gutted as you feel.

You force yourself to glance at the glowing numbers on his phone screen, steeling yourself against the surge of regret at having to end this delicious interlude. “Twenty minutes until you need to be in the garage,” you confirm with a heavy exhale.

With a low groan that goes straight to your core, Lando surges up to slant his mouth hungrily over yours once more in one last kiss goodbye before allowing you to carefully extract yourself from his lap. You both take a few moments to catch your breath and restore some semblance of outward composure, though your insides continue to feel like a lit match in a patch of dry tinder.

“Ready for this?” You arch a pointed brow at Lando as he pushes off the bed to put on his fireproofs and race suit with admirably steady hands, given how thoroughly unwound he had been mere moments ago.

He flashes you his trademark grin — though this time it holds an air of supreme confidence and purpose that sends a thrill racing down your spine. “Like you said … this is my destiny.” Pulling you close with one hand at the small of your back, he dips his head to murmur gratefully against your lips, “And you helped me find it today.”

With one final kiss that leaves you lightheaded, Lando turns to grab his water bottle and heads towards the door, every bit the consummate professional buckling down to handle the job at hand. You watch him go with a tender smile playing across your lips, filled with an irrational surge of pride at how far he’s come.

A few hours later, you’re holding your breath in the garage as Lando’s MCL38 comes screaming around the final turn and over the finish line — the checkered flag signaling his maiden victory at long last. From on top the podium, his elated gaze immediately finds yours through the throngs of people and hoisted champagne bottles.

The smile he bestows is so private and full of promise that warmth blossoms in your chest and your skin tingles deliciously in anticipation.

After the celebrations and press obligations have wound down, Lando nearly sprints off the track and back into the paddock area, lifting you clean off your feet in a tight embrace when he reaches you. His lips move feverishly against your own, words tumbling out in a reverent exhale barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

“Thank you, thank you … I couldn’t have done it without you. God, I love you so much ...”

And in that perfect moment — drunk on the roar of the crowd, the giddy thrill of victory, and the smoldering promise in the depths of Lando’s eyes — you’re already mentally preparing to give him the most mind-blowing reward imaginable.

***

The champagne is still buzzing through your veins, lending an extra fizz of exhilaration to the crackling charge in the air as you hastily key into your hotel suite hand-in-hand with Lando.

No sooner has the door clicked shut behind you than he’s on you in a searing tangle of heat and desire — mouth hot and insistent, fingers skating across every bare inch of exposed skin as if he’s a man dying of thirst and you’re the last oasis for miles.

“Fuck, Y/N ...” he rasps reverently against the fevered skin of your neck, pressing a hot, openmouthed kiss to your wildly fluttering pulse. “You’re incredible, so bloody perfect.” His hands roam hungrily, deftly stripping you of layer upon layer of clothing until you’re left deliciously bare before his molten gaze. “Let me worship you properly, yeah? God knows you deserve it after today.”

A tremor of need races through you at his naked desire, amplified tenfold by the molten timbre of Lando’s rough, lust-thickened voice. Without breaking eye contact, you hook your fingers through his belt loops and begin walking him back towards the lavish bedroom, relishing the sharp inhale he sucks through his teeth at your commanding confidence.

There’s a practiced, sensual arch to your spine as you work the tails of his crisp button-down free from the waistband of his trousers, taking your sweet time to pop each individual button until the smooth, tanned expanse of his torso is laid bare.

Warm fingertips trail an achingly slow path up the defined ridges of his abdomen as you drink in the sight of him — pupils blown wide with barely restrained want and that delicious lower lip caught between his teeth as his chest rises and falls with shallow stuttering pants.

“Is this what you want, darling?” You murmur silkily, palming him through the rapidly tenting fabric of his pants and delighting in the strangled whine that punches from his lips at the contact. His hands fly up to clutch convulsively at your hips, gripping with bruising force as if you’re his only lifeline in a raging sea of lust and sensation.

“Yes … please,” he forces out on a ragged exhale, body practically thrumming with desperation as you continue to work him with languid strokes while rocking your hips in a slow, sensual grind against his throbbing need.

The headiness of having this confident man quivering and needy at your touch sends a heady surge of possessive satisfaction coursing through you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely ...”

With a decadent hum, you deftly pop the button of Lando’s pants and drag the zipper down in one smooth motion, allowing his rigid cock to spring free at last, flushed and straining obscenely. You swipe your thumb through the pearlescent bead of precome gathered at the swollen tip, making his hips judder with desperate rolls at the stimulation.

“Y/N … fuck, I need … need your mouth ...” Lando grits out, tangling his fingers in your hair with a barely restrained growl.

You can’t help the low, sultry chuckle that spills past your lips at his feverish plea. “So impatient,” you tut, even as you sink gracefully to your knees before him, trailing openmouthed kisses along the hard ridges of his abdomen. “But you’ve been such a good boy for me lately, I suppose I can reward you.”

Another punched-out curse fractures the air as Lando’s head tips back on a low groan at the first hot lick of your tongue up the length of his rigid shaft. You take your sweet time working him over until his entire body is trembling with the effort of holding himself in check, fingers clenched white-knuckle tight in your hair.

“Look at you, so pretty for me,” you purr at him from beneath your lashes. “I wonder how quickly I could have you coming apart completely on my tongue.”

A broken, desperate whine escapes Lando at your words. “Fuck … I’m not gonna last,” he warns through gritted teeth.

With a final swirl of your tongue around the swollen crown of him, you pull off with a lush, obscene pop. “Don’t you dare hold back for me,” you murmur, voice dripping wanton sin as you tighten your grip at the base of his throbbing length to stave off the mounting waves of his building release. “I want to taste every … last … drop.”

The broken whine that tears itself from Lando’s throat quickly warps into a strangled shout of ecstasy as you hollow your cheeks and sink back down to take his aching cock as far as you can. He outright sobs your name over and over as you relentlessly work him undone with hollowed cheeks and swirls of your talented tongue — at this point he’s putty in your hands, helpless to do anything other than clutch at you and shatter apart.

You pull back with a filthy, slurping noise just as the first hot ropes of milky white spurt from his slit, painting your tongue and lips with thick, viscous streaks. A guttural groan rumbles up from his chest at the shamelessly lewd sight, cock giving one final twitch against your lips as you swallow greedily, lapping and sucking every musky drop from his overstimulated flesh.

His knees nearly buckle at the over-the-top eroticism of it all, hands knotting tighter in your hair as if the grounding points of contact are all that’s keeping him anchored to this mortal plane.

Only once you’ve thoroughly wrung him dry with your mouth and tongue do you sit back on your heels, swiping the back of your hand across your swollen, well-used lips to clean away the remnant beads of his climax. Each breath Lando sucks into his heaving lungs is like molten fire in his tortured chest, his pupils still dilated as he gazes down in awe and not a small amount of reverence at where you’re tucked so demurely between his parted thighs.

“Bloody fucking hell, love,” he rasps around a breathy, disbelieving puff of laughter. “C’mere, lemme return the favor … I need to taste you in the worst way.”

His words go straight to your rapidly tightening core, sending a fresh gush of slick arousal pooling between your thighs. You allow him to haul you up by your elbows and press you into the plush mattress, surrendering to his hot, open-mouthed kisses and seeking hands as he divests you completely of your last shreds of clothing.

When his tongue finally finds your drenched center, you keen high and helpless in the back of your throat. “Oh god, Lando … yes, just like that ...”

Lando answers your breathless encouragement by burying his tongue deeper into your grasping heat with a satisfied groan. The wildly intimate stretch and stimulation of his clever licks and kitten flicks against your swollen bud quickly has you squirming and thrashing against the mattress in a glorious, overstimulated daze.

All you can do is pant and whimper encouragements, fingers tangling unconsciously in his thick chestnut locks as you rock yourself shamelessly into his mouth.

Just when you think the maddening coil of ecstasy winding tighter and tighter deep in your core can’t possibly grow any tighter, Lando slips two long fingers inside your slick, fluttering entrance with a guttural groan of satisfaction. The fullness of the dual sensations instantly has you seizing up all over, back arching off the bed as he works you over with sure, steady strokes.

“Oh fuck, fuck me … Lando, you feel … so g-good, ungh!” The inarticulate stream of praise and curses rapidly devolves into broken moans as he relentlessly pistons his fingers in and out, strumming insistently against that spongy cluster of nerves with each punishing thrust. You’re quickly rendered mindless, nothing but a writhing, desperate bundle of raw need and want with every nerve alight at his exquisite touch.

When Lando’s lips finally close over your pulsing clit and suckle hard, your entire world shatters into stardust with the force of your climax. A hoarse shout rips from deep in your chest as the coil within you finally detonates in waves of dizzying, toe-curling pleasure that seem to go on and on and on. Lando works you through it all with his plush mouth and tireless fingers, lapping up the honeyed rush of your release like a man dying of thirst.

For several long, blissful moments, the only sounds are your mingled gasps and pants for air as you float hazily down from your high. Lando’s lips trail scorching paths along the inside of your trembling thighs, nuzzling and nipping at sensitive flesh before finally lifting his head to grace you with that familiar adoring look that never fails to make your heartbeat trip.

“Look at the mess you’ve made, love,” he drags his index finger through the slick mess coating his chin and lips. With a blatantly filthy leer that sends a shiver of fresh arousal cascading down your spine, he slips the digit into his mouth and sucks it clean with a rumbling groan of satisfaction. “Delicious.”

You’re still totally wrecked and incoherent from your release, every nerve in your body humming and jangling in the aftermath like overstimulated livewires. A punched-out moan manages to escape you at his brazen obscenity as your hips lift off the bed in an instinctual, needful grind. “Inside me. Need y-you inside ...”

Lando rises over you in one fluid, graceful motion, hips slotting effortlessly between your splayed thighs as he brackets your face between his large palms, drinking you in hungrily. “God, look at you — you’re fucking glorious like this, wrecked and desperate for me,” he murmurs in a low rasp, cock dragging slickly through your sopping folds to nudge insistently at your entrance. “How do you do this to me, huh? Break me apart so effortlessly then have me begging on my knees for more of you ...”

With that, he bottoms out in one smooth, torturous glide — the exquisite, familiar fullness stealing your breath and sending stars bursting across your vision at the electrifying feeling of being stuffed so deliciously deep. You wrap your legs high around his taut waist, ankles locking needfully as you roll your hips in frantic little circles seeking any kind of friction.

“Oh god, Lando … move, please … need you to move, it hurts so fucking good ...”

He answers your pleading moans with a soul-scorching kiss, lips and tongue consuming you in delicious, velvet heat as he sets a ruthless, punishing pace, spearing into your clenching depths with all the force and stamina that makes him such a world-class athlete. You match him thrust for thrust, your cries swallowed by his plundering mouth as the delicious drag and slap of skin against skin fills your senses.

“I’ll never get enough,” Lando grits out between breathy curses. His teeth find purchase at the dip of your neck, sending a starburst of sensation and pain across your sensitized nerves that only compounds the haze of carnal bliss wrapping you in its searing embrace. “Could spend my life buried inside you like this and it still wouldn’t be long enough ...”

His words ignite something feral, darkly possessive in your core, an echoing howl of belonging and ownership that it feels like you’ve been careening towards since the very first time he surrendered to you in trance. With a carnal growl, you hook your ankles tighter, using your legs to flip Lando onto his back as you rise up to straddle his hips.

His eyes go comically wide before he’s grinding up into you with a gasp, grasping your hips hard enough to bruise as you set a punishing new rhythm.

“Say it again … tell me who you belong to.” Your voice is hoarse, burnished in equal parts wanton need and flinty command — you don’t care which one makes him shatter apart at the seams so long as he answers your order.

Lando immediately locks eyes with yours, gaze fever-bright and seeming to pierce straight into your very soul as he clamps his hands around your throat with delicious pressure. “You,” he groans without hesitation, the pads of his fingers flexing as your pulse throbs wildly beneath his touch. “You own me, down to my bloody bones.”

The reverent oath sends a surge of lust and possession searing through your bloodstream, stoking the incandescent heat pooling low in your belly to fever pitch once more. Your hips move in wild rolls, desperate and ragged as you ride him with reckless abandon. Lando keeps one hand locked at the juncture of your throat while the other skates up your side to palm your breast, rolling the peaked tip between calloused fingers.

“I can feel you getting close already, look at you … my perfect, filthy girl throwing herself at me like she needs nothing else but my cock splitting her apart,” he growls gutturally, his words and the punishing rhythm growing more and more erratic as your combined pleasure crests higher and higher.

Quite suddenly, Lando hooks his feet against the mattress and surges up to capture your lips in a sweltering, soul-devouring kiss as his hips somehow piston even faster into your desperately clenching depths. His name fractures and shatters around the seal of your kiss as your entire world liquefies into ribbons of rapture, ecstasy blotting out all coherent thought until every last shred of tension and want finally implodes in a supernova behind your navel.

Lando gasps against your lips as your release floods him, thick and scorching hot — wave after wave milking the most intense convulsions from his straining cock as his own orgasm shatters loose. You rock together through the shared obliteration of your mutual bliss until there’s nothing left but the gentle lapping of aftershocks and Lando’s thumb stroking idly along the racing pulse at the hollow of your throat.

When you finally manage to crack your eyes and focus on the beautiful wreck of a man sprawled boneless beneath you, the look of besotten awe on his features nearly takes your breath away all over again. Then his rueful chuckle rumbles up from deep in his chest, melting away the last smoldering embers of tension as he brushes a stray lock of damp hair back from your brow.

“What on earth am I going to do with you, love?” He murmurs, the hint of a smirk toying at the corner of his lips. “Now I’m permanently addicted.” He presses a lingering, searing kiss to your swollen mouth before pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. “Though I suppose there are worse fates.”

You answer his sentiment with a breathless chuckle of your own, tracing the lines of his face in an achingly tender caress as the last lingering flickers of passion slowly ebb and flow into deep, drowsy contentment. “Such are the spoils of victory,” you breathe fondly. “Though I suppose I should thank you for being such an … enthusiastic participant.”

“Mmm, I think I can manage that.” His eyes slip closed as he winds his arms around you to roll until you’re flush atop his chest, every supple inch of heated skin against skin and your legs tangled together in a sprawl. “You’ve ruined me,” he murmurs softly, reverently against your hair. “And I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my life.”

You hum serenely in agreement, nestling impossibly closer as Lando’s breathing evens out and you both begin to drift into a dozy haze of sated bliss. The warm, hypnotic lull of his heartbeat against your cheek and the delicious ache of well-used muscles is pure nirvana.

In this moment, suspended in time in the afterglow, you can scarcely fathom how you ever existed before Lando barreled into your life and ignited this intoxicating flame of desire, devotion, and bone-deep belonging between you.

His voice, already rough and worn velvet from your passionate exertions, breaks the contented silence once more as he nuzzles against your temple. “Stay with me tonight? God knows I could use a few more hours with you in my arms before we have to brave the real world again.”

A languid smile curves your lips at his soft plea, warmth blooming in your chest. “As if you even need to ask,” you murmur, punctuating the sentiment with a tender brush of your lips across the thundering pulse at the base of his throat. “I’m yours, remember? Any time and any place you’ll have me.”

Lando doesn’t respond further, simply tightens his arm around your waist as he hooks his chin over your head with a low, satisfied rumble.

With his name a breathless vow on your lips, you allow the bone-deep weariness of pure satisfaction to finally pull you under into peaceful oblivion beside the only man who will ever hold the keys to unraveling you so completely in return.

***

The pale moonlight filters through the gauzy curtains of Lando’s posh London flat, casting everything in an ethereal blue-silver glow as you burrow deeper into the plush duvet.

A lazy, spent sort of satisfaction permeates the air in the wake of your earlier lovemaking — though honestly, is there ever a time when you don’t feel utterly cherished and deliciously sated these days?

Lando’s arm is a warm, heavy brand across your waist, the solid plane of his chest pressed flush against your back. You can sense the steady thrum of his heartbeat mellowing into the deep, even cadence of slumber and make to slip out of his embrace, eager to make use of the en-suite facilities. But the moment you shift, his arm reflexively tightens, drawing you impossibly closer as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck with a low, sleepy noise of protest.

“Mmm … stay,” he mumbles groggily against your skin, voice still rough and sweetly wrecked from the way you had him crying out your name mere hours ago.

You huff a quiet laugh at his drowsy insistence, nosing affectionately at his tousled curls. “I’ll be right back, you insatiable thing,” you rasp, carefully extracting yourself from his octopus-like clutches to plant a lingering kiss to his slack, pillow-creased cheek. “Promise I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Lando grumbles something indistinct but doesn’t protest further, already slipping back into the lull of sleep with a final contented sigh muffled against the plush bedding. You take a moment to simply drink in the sight of him sprawled out so unguardedly – all toned muscle and tousled chestnut curls, the crisp white sheets tangling artfully around his hips to offer tempting peeks of tanned skin and lean, powerful thighs.

He’s gorgeous like this, you muse with a soft smile, feeling that oh-so-familiar spark of possessive want begin to simmer low in your belly. A dizzying rush of affection and belonging surges through you as your gaze rakes over the starburst of reddened lovebites peppering his throat and shoulders from where you marked him as yours so enthusiastically earlier.

It’s hard to fathom that there was ever a time you considered your life remotely complete before Lando and his smoldering passion whirlwinded into your world.

Still, you force yourself to tear your eyes away from the alluring scene with a steadying breath, retreating to the en-suite with the promise to return hanging unspoken between you.

By the time you’ve padded back into the bedroom wrapped in one of Lando’s obscenely soft bathrobes, he’s shifted to sprawl across the centerline of the mattress, face half-buried in his pillow and one hand flung haphazardly above his head. The rakish sprawl of bedsheets and moonlight across his sculpted form renders him a vision of absolute debauchery and desire — not that you’d have him any other way.

You can’t resist ghosting your fingers in a featherlight caress along the hard ridges of his spine and the lean cords of muscle defining his broad shoulders, relishing the shiver that chases itself visibly across his skin. “You awake, darling?”

Lando grunts an affirmation, languidly cracking one eye to regard you through the tangled fringe of lashes fanning across his cheekbones. There’s a hint of wry amusement laced through the rough velvet of his voice when he speaks. “Was starting to worry you’d wandered off again without me.”

“Never,” you reply instantly, warmth threading through the simple avowal. Moving to settle in the vee of his splayed thighs, you trail a meandering path of openmouthed kisses along his lower back, nosing aside the rumpled sheet to expose the swell of his ass with deliberate intent. “You know I’m defenseless against this gorgeous body of yours.”

A low, approving rumble vibrates up from Lando’s chest at your blatant appreciation, his hips giving an unconscious, languid roll as your lips brush across the dimples at the base of his spine in a teasing caress. But then, quite suddenly, the boneless sprawl of his limbs seems to tense as a perceptible aura of hesitance permeates the desire charging the air between you.

You immediately feel the subtle shift in his energy, that jarring note of dissonance plucking disquietingly at your intuitive senses — the same ones that have always allowed you to tune into the deepest vibrations of the soul with preternatural clarity. Without pause, you abandon your sensual exploration of his body to settle beside him once more, cradling the sharp line of his jaw in your palm and wordlessly coaxing him to turn and meet your gaze.

“Hey … talk to me, love,” you murmur, the soothing tone of your voice blanketing the sharp edged undercurrent of uncertainty in its rich, soothing folds. “Where’d you go just now?”

Lando exhales a soft, humorless puff of breath, worrying his plush lower lip between his teeth in that adorable yet concerning tell of his whenever something is weighing on that mind.

For a long stretch, he studies your features in silence, the only sounds in the room the ambient thrum of the city beyond the flat’s walls and the occasional muted honk of a passing car in the night below. Just when you’re about to prompt him again, the words finally tumble out in a low, slightly self-conscious rush.

“You … you don’t take on other clients like me, do you?” You feel him tense further under your palm, discomfited energy practically vibrating off him in waves. “Not that I’m judging, honest! It’s none of my business what you do or who you see for work, but I just ...” He breaks off on a frustrated exhale, jaw ticking in that way that tells you he’s holding back a tidal wave of emotion beneath his placid surface.

A dawning realization begins to unfurl in your chest, intimately familiar with the root of Lando’s inner turmoil. This brilliant, sensitive, achingly beautiful man — the force on the racetrack who melts into the most sweetly vulnerable creature behind closed doors whenever you bestow him with the full force of your focused attention. Of course he would crave that intensity of focus, that promise of belonging solely to him in your most intimate embraces, no matter how irrational or paradoxical the notion seems from the outside looking in.

Slowly, carefully, you reach up to frame that beloved face between your palms, silently urging Lando to hold your unwavering gaze as the words he needs to hear spill forth in a low, resonant murmur.

“Do you remember when this first started between us? How completely you surrendered yourself to me in the most profound way?” You begin, watching his pupils slowly dilate and a nearly imperceptible tension begin to unwind from his shoulders at the timbre of your voice. “The absolute trust it takes to let someone delve that deep into the most sacred corners of your psyche … to share your fears, insecurities, and unvarnished essence without artifice?”

Lando swallows thickly, nodding once in a jerky affirmation as the words seem to bypass his conscious mind and resonate somewhere deeper. You card your fingers soothingly through his disheveled curls, allowing your touch to lull and ground him as you continue in that same low, hypnotic cadence.

“That depth of surrender and connection is not something that can simply be replicated or transposed onto others, Lando. What we have is singular. Untouchable.” You press your forehead to his, registering the faint hitch in his breath as you drink in every last nuance of his features. “My gift has always been to help unravel the truths someone tries to bury, follow the threads that tether the conscious mind to something vaster and more primal. But with you ...”

A low exhale ghosts across his parted lips as your thumb traces the sharp line of his cheekbone in an achingly tender caress. “With you, it was as if the universe aligned to allow me to shed every last shred of protection and pretense until there was nothing left but the purest vibration of my very essence resonating in time with yours. Do you understand?”

Lando’s gaze is a hazy swirl of naked emotion and trust, drinking in your every syllable with the desperate reverence of a man being offered the world’s greatest truth. “Like … like the truest version of ourselves was always there, simply waiting to recognize its other half,” he rasps, the words seeming to bypass his conscious faculties entirely as he remains held captive in the depths of your connection. “Two souls spilling into one another.”

“Precisely.” Your lips curve in the ghost of a smile, a bone-deep sense of belonging and contentment settling over you both like a well-worn hug. “In that moment, you became an inextricable part of me, and I of you. Something that profound doesn’t simply … vanish, or dim, or lessen with time and distance.”

You allow the weighted truth of your decree to resonate between your joined bodies for a suspended heartbeat, cradling Lando’s face as if mapping every plane and angle with worshipful precision.

“I could help countless others access their potential or tap into dimly lit corners of their awareness,” you continue. “But there will only ever be one person to whom I belong in that elemental way. One person who will ever see this side of me and who lays the very fabric of their being bare without reservation.”

A tremulous exhalation shudders across Lando’s lips at the finality in your tone, as if every lingering filament of doubt or uncertainty has finally dissolved in the face of your avowal. One of his hands comes up to splay across the small of your back, fingers flexing and bunching the silky material of your robe in a desperate clutch as if you’re the last solid comfort in a churning sea.

When his eyes slip open once more, they’re practically luminescent with a naked heat that sends a delicious curl of answering want unfurling through your core.

“Show me,” he rasps, the simple entreaty laced with an edge of heart-stoppingly vulnerable need. “Please, Y/N …. I need to feel you completely.”

In the stillness that follows, the only sounds are your mingled exhales and the thunderous gallop of racing pulses filling the air with resonant verses of sin and worship. Then, with an instinctual roll of your hips, you’re slotting one toned thigh between Lando’s splayed legs and sealing your mouth over his in a filthy, searing kiss that instantly has his back arching off the rumpled sheets with a muffled groan.

There’s nothing tentative in the wanton slide of your lips and tongues, every flick and brush and gentle graze brimming with carnal intent and the unspoken promise to strip one another to the very marrow.

Lando surrenders to the sweet onslaught eagerly, hands skating across your body in frantic, searing paths until the belt of your robe finally falls away and he can palm the bare curves of your ass to grind you more fully against his rapidly stiffening length.

You break away with a sharp gasp at the delicious friction, mouth immediately seeking out the fevered juncture of Lando’s neck and shoulder to mouth searing patterns across the taut tendons there. “You want my gift?” You rasp against the thrumming pulse under your lips, rolling your hips in a languid, purposeful grind that drags the already swollen head of his cock through the slick evidence of your arousal with tantalizing friction.

Lando’s response is a low, breathless stream of curses and encouragements, blunt fingernails raking distractedly down the length of your spine in a way that sets every nerve alight with tingling sparks of pleasure-pain.

Allowing him to nip and suck intoxicating patterns across your collarbones, you dip your hand between your bodies until you can wrap your fingers around his rigid shaft, dragging the pads in a devastatingly slow glide from base to tip.

The groan that punches from Lando’s chest at your touch is guttural, hips pumping restlessly into the tight channel of your fist. “Fuck, yes … want all of you, every bloody inch ...”

His words seem to bypass your conscious mind entirely. You’re suddenly blisteringly aware of each and every point where your bodies join: the heated crush of his straining cock in your palm, the delicious friction of your slick folds catching and dragging against the cut grooves of his abdomen with each gyration of your hips, the teasing rasp of his calloused palms as they roam hungrily across your skin.

It’s as if Lando’s very being calls out to yours in an ancient tongue, rendering coherent thought utterly obsolete as you simply feel — the pulsing, cosmic certainty of your connection amplifying every tingling spark of friction and delirious drag of skin against skin until your entire world narrows to the joining of your shared potential cresting higher with each and every move.

“Now,” you grate out, vision whiting out as your climax detonates in a blinding supernova behind your navel — an ecstasy so transcendent that you’re certain it scorches across the very fabric of your soul. Your fingernails sink vicious crescent moons into Lando’s bicep as you arch against him with a keening cry.

“Y/N!” His hoarse shout fractures on a broken whine, muscles tensing as the first searing pulse of his orgasm floods your belly, joined soon by rich, viscous ropes of white heat that leave you both totally undone.

You simply clutch at each other through the relentless waves, Lando’s teeth sinking into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as if urging you to brand him irrevocably as yours.

When the explosive rapture finally begins to ebb, you both sag into the tangled bedding in a limp sprawl of sweat-slicked limbs and trembling aftershocks, chests heaving in perfect synchronicity as you cling to one another like lost mariners adrift in some fathomless sea.

You can’t even begin to discern where your consciousness begins and Lando’s ends — your very essences having merged so irrevocably that you simply exist as a singular vibration pulsing through the cosmos.

It takes several long, suspended moments for the concept of individual awareness to gradually seep back into the edges of your being, though even then it feels blasphemous to separate yourself from the soul-deep profundity of what you’ve just shared.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, you manage to crack your eyelids enough to drink in the sight of Lando gazing back at you with that same awed wonder etched across his beloved features.

“Bloody fucking hell,” he rasps, the words little more than a throaty whisper ghosting against your over-sensitized skin. “That was … there aren’t even words, are there?”

In lieu of responding, you simply wind your arms around him with a tremulous exhale, hooking your chin over the solid comfort of his shoulder and allowing his clean, earthy scent to wash over you like a balm.

In this place, suspended between bliss and awareness, there’s no need for words or platitudes. You can feel Lando’s very essence thrumming in tandem with yours — the inherent recognition of your twin flame and sacred belonging reverberating on a molecular level.

Here, entangled in the vital warmth of shared trust and intimacy, all that exists is the boundless and the eternal.

760 notes · View notes

magicalbats · 6 months ago

Text

Situational Awareness (Dan Heng x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 10,928

Warnings: afab!reader, some gendered language, shower sex, intercrural sex, thigh fucking

A/N: I've been working here and there on a few different projects (including my long overdue Kinktober pieces, worry not!) but in terms of standalone fics I figured this one was done so I may as well post it. Am I doing so at six in the morning when no one is awake to see it? Absolutely. lol I'm not a plumber so please don't come at me about the shoddy pipe excuse btw, haha

⭐

The unmistakable evidence of all your fooling around is laying across the floor in the form of hastily dropped, rumpled towels. They’d hit the ground in a disarranged heap after the fall, but were still clean as far as you could tell. Not that you could really ask for more on the off chance that they weren’t considering the fright you’d just given the staff but …

Hanging your head, you make the conscious effort to draw a deep, calming breath and come down from the strange high you’d slipped into. You were sweating rather profusely, you’re a bit surprised to find. What had gotten into you? Hotel devils? Surely that was about as absurd as someone climbing into an oddly inviting but no less strange closet as if they’d been personally summoned into its dark depths by some higher force, and yet that was exactly what you’d done. There must have been something seriously wrong with you.

Perhaps it was the Stellaron inside your body causing problems with the electrical signals in its flesh and blood prison. Or maybe you’d hit your head somewhere along the way and the side effects were only now starting to manifest themselves. Your bet was on the tail end of that showdown with the Doomsday Beast back on the space station.

Either way, you desperately needed to get it together.

Straightening up, you send a wary look at the closet in question. Its doors were still thrust open from where you’d leaped out of its (frustratingly inviting) maw some moments ago and there was no denying the faint tug of invitation you could feel trying to coax you back inside but you refused to heed its call. This wasn’t the time or even really the place. You’d let it get the better of you once and that was already more than enough.

“Relax.” You remind yourself as you inch closer to the closet. Resolutely, you reach out and shut the doors. The compulsion slowly fades to nothing and you’re once again left to your own devices. It comes as a great relief.

A harried sigh escapes you as you bend to retrieve the fallen towels next. Perhaps you should leave a note of apology out for the staff. Who knows what they were saying about you right now, the strange girl who likes to hide in closets and scare the living daylights out of unsuspecting workers. On second thought, though, maybe you should just pretend like nothing at all had even transpired here today. Admitting to your own strange behavior in writing would rob you of any plausible deniability, wouldn’t it?

Turning that over in your head, you carry the small bundle of towels into the attached bathroom. Set them down on the sink and almost walk right back out before realizing that you should probably take a shower before bed. Not only were you covered in a fine sheen of perspiration from your time spent getting all worked up inside the closet but you were also freezing. You hadn’t noticed it when you were still running hot on adrenaline and nerves, but now you were gradually starting to shiver.

Just how long had you been crouched inside the cramped dark like that? You really had no idea, as if that part of your memory were an empty cavernous void. It could have been only a few short minutes for all you could tell, or it could have been an eternity. It was impossible to say.

Pivoting, you reach over the tub and wrench the faucet on. The modestly sized room is instantly consumed by the sound of running water as you step back to shrug out of your jacket and take off your gloves. A moment later you test the temperature with your fingers only to snatch them back with a hiss when you find it still ice cold. That certainly wasn’t going to do.

In total you spend about twenty minutes fiddling with the steel knobs, trying them in this and then that position to no avail. No matter what you did the water never seemed to get any warmer, finally leaving you with no choice but to simply turn the damn thing off. You almost give up right then and there. In fact, you consider it very, very hard.

But what ultimately stops you from crawling into bed with nary another thought to the matter is the shuddering chill that’s fallen over you without any of the fast pumping excitement to keep it at bay. You weren’t just cold in the way curling up with a thick blanket could help with. It felt like you were right on the verge of slipping into hypothermia. The thought of laying awake all night shivering nonstop did not sound like the best start to this Trailblaze expedition so you decide to try your luck next door with March.

She opens up on the third knock, wearing her blue bunny pj’s.

“What are you doing out here at this time of night? I thought you were room service or something!”

“Sorry.” You offer her a weak smile, fighting to stop your teeth from loudly clattering. “I think there’s something wrong with the tub in my room. All I can get to come out is cold water.”

March’s brows take an expeditious trip up to her hairline. “No way, you’re having problems too? I thought it was just me but I didn’t want to be a negative Nelly about it!”

Her arm lashes out like a striking serpent, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you inside.

The door bangs shut with a certain amount of indignation as she turns to look at you, worry flashing across her expression when she takes in the faint shudder making your shoulders bunch up. Standing this close to her, you can see that her hair is damp.

“Were you able to take a shower?”

“Not a very good one! The hot water only lasted for about fifteen minutes before it started to come out freezing cold!” Huffing, she crosses her arms over her chest. “This place sure does look fancy but I’m so not impressed. What kind of operation do they think they’re running here, huh? Belobog is way too cold for them not to have working hot water tanks!”

You consider that for a brief moment. “Maybe that’s the problem? If a bunch of people are trying to bathe at the same time and using up all the hot water - -“

“Then they should’ve thought of that before they opened up a hotel! I mean, come on. That’s just common sense, right? And more importantly what’s up with you? You’ve been shivering non stop since I opened the door.”

Don’t tell her about the closet. Don’t tell her about your exploits inside the closet. Whatever you do, do not tell her about that damned closet.

“I think the chill is just starting to catch up with me.” You tell her, cool as … erm, ice. “I didn’t notice it too much at first but now I can’t stop shaking. I’d really like to take a hot shower.”

“I bet.” She murmurs. Then, with more enthusiasm, “Come on, let’s see if mine wants to work!”

Taking your hand in hers, March guides you over to her attached bathroom where she flips on the overhead lights. You’re impressed to find it’s an almost identical copy of yours, just mirrored. Actually, they looked like they were directly adjacent to one another and situated along the same wall. But would that in turn mean … they were sharing the same series of pipes? No, that couldn’t be. Such an obvious structural design flaw would have surely raised some questions, wouldn’t it?

Your attention thoughtfully drifts towards March as she bends over the side of the tub and smacks the faucet on. A familiar sense of deja vu comes over you when the gurgling sound of running water rushes in to dominate the air but she doesn’t seem to pay it much mind so neither do you. A few seconds pass before she tests the water, clicks her tongue in annoyance and draws her hand back before trying again just another few seconds later. Truthfully March’s impatience had never been quite so glaring as it is right now.

“Well, isn’t that just ridiculous!” She at last scoffs, evidently deeming the whole endeavor futile and turning the faucet off again. “It wouldn’t be such a big deal if this place wasn’t so cold. How is anyone coming in off the street supposed to get a good night’s rest if they can’t even have a warm shower?”

You ponder that question with the same weight and consideration as the last one she’d posed. “Maybe they don’t get many visitors? Just think about it. How many times have we heard now that Belobog is the ‘last bastion of humanity’? They probably don’t get much in the way of tourism.”

Turning, March pins you with an exceedingly strange look. “I don’t think you’re wrong about that but … wouldn’t that mean they’re mostly just keeping this place running for the sake of it? What a waste of resources.” She gives her head a quick shake. “Wait, that’s not important right now. We need to get you warmed up and safely tucked into bed! Do you want me to go down to the lobby with you to check what’s going on?”

“No, that’s okay.” You quickly wave that off, feeling more than just a little self conscious about causing her any trouble. “It’s already getting late and you need your rest for tomorrow. It wouldn’t make sense to waste so much time helping me with this when you could be sleeping instead.”

“Hey, now. The same goes for all three of us. We’re in this together and you’d better not forget that! I don’t mind lending a hand. We are crewmates after all!

“Thank you, really. But I’m sure I can figure something else out.”

“Fine, if you’re sure … but at least stop by Dan Heng’s room and see if he’s in the same boat as us. If not, maybe he’ll let you use his shower tonight?”

“Oh. That’s a good idea.” Consideringly, you start to turn and March follows hot on your heels as you step back out through the doorway. “He went into the room right across from yours, right? Since they’re on opposite sides, maybe I will have better luck.”

“That’s the spirit! See, you just gotta’ keep your spirits high and everything will work out fine in the end. Isn’t that what they call trusting the process?”

Pausing in front of the door, you pivot to look back at her. “I don’t think that particular saying applies here.”

“Oh, whatever. Just go check in with Dan Heng and if he isn’t having any better luck come grab me again, okay? We’ll go down and talk to the receptionist together if we have to!”

You smile, even though you try very hard not to. “Thanks, March. I really appreciate it.”

Her voice follows after you as you open the door to see yourself out, a cheerful parting of ‘good luck!’ following you out into the hall. Of all the warm welcomes you’d been greeted with upon boarding the Express, hers was easily the warmest of them all. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to properly repay her for that but you were certainly going to try.

Out in the long carpeted corridor, you take a measly three steps to cross over to the opposite side and rap at the heavy wooden door. Dan Heng surprises you slightly when he opens up at the very first knock, almost like he’d been waiting just within.

“Is something the matter?”

The stark difference in your two companions' greetings makes something warm flicker to life inside your chest. You’d only known them and the rest of the Astral Express crew for a short while now but it was very much in line with what was quickly becoming comforting and familiar to you. March had been proactive and eager to know what you were doing while Dan Heng seemed to have concluded that something must be wrong if you were coming to his room like this. It was oddly reassuring, in a way.

“This is probably going to sound like a strange question but have you taken a shower yet?”

A vague look of confusion flashes across his face and then camps there. He was far from the most animated character you’d met on your journey thus far, but there’s no mistaking the look he levels on you now.

“I haven’t quite gotten around to it yet.” He says slowly. “I was just jotting down some observational notes in my phone to input in the database later. Why?”

“I don’t have any proof to back it up but I think March may have taken all my hot water. Our bathrooms are right next to each other.”

Dan Heng’s expression shifts and settles into a perplexed scowl. “Is that why you’re shaking? You’d think a place like this would understand the importance of resource allocation …” Sighing, he steps to the side. “Come in. We can check it together.”

Feeling the pitter patter of hope skip across your ribcage, you step inside with him. He closes the door and turns the lock in place (paranoid or overly cautious?) before leading you over to the bathroom. None of these hotel rooms are particularly big and the two of you are soon crowding around the porcelain tub together.

A steady turn of his wrist has the water gushing out, the same scene playing out for the third time in a row. Except it doesn’t take long at all for steam to start rising up from the faucet this go around and you feel like you could just collapse in relief. He still had hot water. You weren’t going to freeze to death after all.

“There,” He murmurs, straightening to his full height again. “Go ahead and take your shower in here. I’ll be in the other room so just give me a shout if you need anything.”

Dan Heng starts to turn, making your eyes go big and round with surprise. “But what about you? I don’t want to take up all of your hot water.”

“It’s fine. I can just grab one after you're done.”

“No, that won’t work.” You insist, reaching over to smack the faucet back off with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “March said she only had about fifteen minutes before the water started coming out cold. I’m not sure how long ago she took hers but when we checked it was still out of hot water.”

“Hmm,” He appears to hesitate at that, his gaze taking on the thoughtfully introspective look you were starting to recognize as the gears in his head turning. “Could it be that they get so few guests staying here that they just closed off some of the hot water pipes to ensure they don’t keep running? It’s not quite cold enough in the city for them to freeze so I don’t think it would hurt anything …”

“Right?” You lift your brows in emphasis. “If Belobog is the only human settlement on this planet then what’s the point in keeping an entire hotel up and running?”

“That’s a good point and I wondered about it as well. Unless this hotel was at one time meant to …” Humming softly under his breath, Dan Heng gives his head a slow shake. “No, there isn’t any point in speculating on that right now. We don’t have enough information to start making inferences. Figuring out what we’re going to do about the current problem should be our priority.”

A quiet beat passes, loud in the absence of running water.

“We could always shower together.”

Dan Heng’s head doesn’t so much as move even a fraction of an inch but his gaze snaps up at you lightning fast. The sharp intensity in his eyes immediately makes you regret saying it. Were you being weird again, despite the absence of the closet to facilitate or otherwise encourage your odd behavior? Or was it really the Stellaron mixing up the radio signals in your brain? You weren’t sure what you would do if you managed to scare him off the same way you’d sent the hotel staff running and screaming.

“Or,” He intones at length. “We could go down to the reception desk and ask them to look into it for us.”

“March said the same thing.”

“But?”

You breathe out a quick huff through your nose. “But that sounds like it might take a while. We’d have to explain what’s going on, have someone come take a look at it and then they’d try to fix it. We already agreed that we’ll have a busy day tomorrow so I don’t want to cause any trouble for either of you. Not if I can help it. This would be the faster solution, right?”

To his credit, Dan Heng’s expression softens in as much as it ever does. Which admittedly isn’t a whole lot, but it’s enough to be noticeable. “You aren’t causing problems for us. Don’t even give it another thought and, please, don’t ever let March hear you say that. I don’t doubt she’d take it upon herself to personally show you just how untrue that really is. That being said though, I can understand the reasoning. Doing it that way would be quicker.”

“But?” You volley it right back at him.

“There’s not actually a ‘but’ here. If you’re sure about it then I suppose I don’t mind going about it this way either. It would certainly get both of us into bed far quicker than any other alternative.”

You don’t exactly understand the eager thump your heart gives at his acquiescence but you allow yourself to smile up at him when the urge suddenly strikes you full force. “Then it’s settled?”

A curt nod. “Yes, although I do hope you actually know what it is we’ve just agreed to. If you change your mind at any point don’t hesitate to tell me and I’ll get right out.”

“Don’t be silly.” You assure him, reaching for the hem of your loose fitted shirt. “I'd never kick you out like that, Dan Heng. Both of us deserve to go to bed nice and warm, and clean.”

He starts to open his mouth — to say what, you’re not sure, because it catches in his throat when you unceremoniously tug your shirt up over your head in one smooth motion. You lose sight of him for a brief moment through the soft knit cotton and by the time you get it pulled completely off he’s pointedly looking elsewhere. Anywhere but at you.

“Is something wrong?” You quietly venture, a soft note of uncertainty creeping into your voice now.

“No, it’s fine. Just … hurry up and get undressed so we can get this over with.” Decisively turning his back to you, he starts to shrug out of his long jacket. You hesitate, looking from him to the shirt balled up in your hands and then down at your own chest. A mild pang of relief comes over you at finding your plain black sports bra very much where it should have been.

So you hadn’t forgotten to put it on. Good. That could have been rather embarrassing for you.

In the same breath you abruptly realize that you were about to take it off and get naked in the same room with Dan Heng who was already working to get all of his clothes pulled off too. He seemed to understand that well enough. Perhaps even more so than you actually did. So why had he reacted like that when you’d taken off your blouse? Surely it wasn’t all that strange for someone to disrobe in front of another … was it?

Pondering this conundrum, you carefully watch Dan Heng fold and set his garments aside on top of the sink one layer and one deliberate motion at a time. His coat and the bracer worn on his right arm make up the bottom of the pile, followed by the lightweight hip guards worn around his waist along with the belt that secured it all. The second skin of his tight black shirt comes off next, revealing a smooth back that flexes powerfully with the overhead motion he uses to get it peeled away. It doesn’t escape your notice that, through it all, he makes a point of not looking at you. All of his attention remains forward and locked on the task at hand, neither uninhibitedly baring himself at you nor stealing any lingering glances in your direction.

It was almost as if in despite of the shared nudity that was inherent in an arrangement like this, he still wanted to give you your privacy. Or as much of it as one could possibly have when bathing with another person.

Was that what it was then? The root cause of his reaction was … reticence on his part? You hadn’t stopped long enough to consider that or any of the other potential implications that came with it but it seemed Dan Heng very much had. If he was behaving this way then you probably should be too.

With that decided, you turn away from him and mimic his actions of neatly folding your top. You don’t have anywhere else to put it though so you have to make do with setting it on top of the toilet lid. The following silence is surprisingly rife with some unnamed tension, interspersed only by the near constant rustle of clothes being removed. Your boots, socks, skirt and underwear are all soon discarded, and you have to try very hard not to look when you hear him shuffle towards the tub again.

“Ready? I’m going to turn the water back on.”

“Go ahead.”

The spout turns with a soft creak and the faucet roars to life, loudly spewing water into the basin. Same as before, and much to your relief, it only takes a few moments for steam to begin wafting up from the noisy deluge and start creeping into your periphery. He quickly smacks the plunger down to redirect the stream to the shower head and the bathroom is suddenly at least two octaves quieter than it was before. You could hear yourself think again. Thank goodness for that.

Silently, Dan Heng steps in first and you quickly scuttle after him. You weren’t keen on losing out on even a single drop of hot water but your refusal to look up from the floor makes actually getting into the shower a bit of an awkward process. You have to feel around with your foot to figure out how close you are and your big toe hits the side of the porcelain a bit too hard, making you hiss through your teeth. Quickly shaking it off though, you lift your leg and blindly step over the rim.

Only to slip when you come down wrong on the other side, the slick surface ripping you off balance with a gut wrenching lurch. You collapse forward, arms flailing, but Dan Heng is quick to grab hold of you before you can hit the floor. Once all I said done, the only thing you’ve succeeded in doing is smacking your knee into the wall.

“Owww …”

“What in the world do you think you’re doing? You could have seriously hurt yourself or broken your neck.” He snaps at you, his tone still as mild as it ever is but there’s no mistaking the sharp bite of reprimand lurking just below the surface. You feel vaguely like a troublesome toddler he’s been tasked with babysitting as he hauls you further into the safety of the tub before reaching up to pull the screen closed with a sound click of his tongue. “I was wondering what was taking you so long to get in but I didn’t expect you to jump without even looking first.”

“I’m sorry,” You murmur, still trying to keep your eyes averted as you carefully work to get your feet situated under you. “I just — I didn’t want to invade your privacy.”

“My privacy?” He echos you, incredulous. “You should have considered that before you suggested us taking a shower together. It’s a little late for it, don’t you think?”

Cautiously slow, you bring your hands up to brace them across his damp chest and gently push. Dan Heng’s hold on you hesitates and then relaxes, letting you pull free so you can take a step back. That his fingers linger at your forearms as if to steady you, or perhaps catch you should you slip and fall again, does not escape your notice, but you decide not to comment on that just yet. Or maybe ever, depending on how the next few minutes played out.

“Sorry.” It’s all you can think to say now.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. While I do appreciate the consideration, there’s no getting around the fact we’re going to see each other naked in a situation like this. It’s okay to look.”

“But?” You whisper into the steady stream of water coming down at his back.

“No ‘but’s. I’d much rather you look than hurt yourself.” His hands shift, adjusting to loosely grasp your elbows. When he gently tugs you in closer to him, you acquiesce without a fuss. You hadn’t noticed how big they were until now and that makes for an unexpectedly convincing argument to encourage your compliance. “Here, get under the shower head. We should make sure you warm up enough before we run out of hot water.”

You can’t exactly argue with that when the rising steam only seems to further highlight just how chilled your skin actually is so you let him get you spun around, trading spots. The steady, hammering rush of warmth hits you all at once as you’re directed into the spray and a violent shudder instantly races up your spine. Whimpering softly, you curl in on yourself as you bring your arms up to wrap them around your upper body. The resulting nudge against painfully hard nipples almost steals the air from your lungs but if Dan Heng notices the way you subtly jolt at the contact he doesn’t show it.

Evidently oblivious, he reaches up to almost casually palm the top of your head. At first you think he’s merely petting you in an uncharacteristic show of doting affection but you quickly realize he’s helping to work the water into your hair, ensuring it’s thoroughly sodden. Still uncharacteristic, or perhaps unprecedented was the better word, but decidedly nice.

Very nice, actually.

“I didn’t take you for the shy sort.” He eventually murmurs, more to himself than to you. No way were you about to pretend you hadn’t heard him though.

“Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Me?” His blunt fingers pause in your hair. You can feel him peering down at you through the steamy gloom that encompasses the cramped tub but you were still hesitant to lift your eyes and look. There was no telling what you might accidentally catch a glimpse of.

You really had no idea, truth be told, but given his earlier reaction it seemed like one’s body wasn’t meant to be ogled or stared at. He’d looked away from you for a reason. It only seemed fair if you gave him the same courtesy.

A terse, silent moment passes.

Evidently realizing he wouldn’t be getting any further explanation, Dan Heng exhales a quiet sigh into the thickened air before directing his hands down to your shoulders. “Turn around. I’ll wash your hair for you.”

Not only did that sound like a rare, once in a blue moon offer you were sure to never hear again, it also seemed way safer than facing him the whole time. You were already having trouble keeping your eyes from wandering from the single strip of his bare arm you’d settled on, having had no other choice when you were standing so close to each other.

So you gratefully pivot, giving him your back. Your shoulders start to relax from their defensive hunch now that the warm water is running down your front and slowly seeping into your skin. It seems to feed into the internal temperature of your core as he shifts behind you, reaching around for something out of sight. The next time his hands come up to touch your hair, it’s with a healthy dollop of shampoo coating his palms and fingers.

A soft sigh of contentment slips out of you as he starts to work it into a nice lather over your scalp, keeping your neck tipped back so he could still work without having to deny yourself the comfort of the shower head. He’s as diligent with this as he is everything else, yet so incredibly gentle about it that you almost start to doze right there on your feet. It felt beyond good. It was amazing.

“Gotta’ say I didn’t expect this Trailblaze mission to turn out like this.” He says at length, just when you’re starting to really drift off to la-la land.

Blinking yourself awake, you fix your attention on the ceiling. “Neither did I.”

“And to think, it’s only just started. You’ll have to forgive me if being I’m too rough by the way. I don’t often groom anyone else’s hair besides my own.”

“No, it’s perfect.”

He huffs a quiet laugh but refrains from saying anything further until another minute or two has gone by, and a nice, thick lather has accumulated over the circumference of your skull. “There, that should do it. Turn around again but keep your head tipped back so you don’t get suds in your eyes.”

Obediently, you move to spin around but you seem to have forgotten something rather important in your drowsy state. Namely your close proximity to one another, how very near you were standing to him. But it’s too late by the time you realize your mistake though, and your tits wetly swipe across the lower half of his chest with a sharp burst of fleshy friction. Both of you draw a quick inhale in near perfect unison at the contact and your eyes pop open where they’d started to slide shut again, suddenly wide awake.

For the first time since you’d stepped foot inside the shower, you find yourself looking directly up at Dan Heng. His startled expression must surely mirror yours because for a long time the two of you just stare at one another in mute silence. You aren’t sure what to make of this. Not the situation itself or the twisting knot low in your gut.

You think you should probably take a step back and put some much needed space between the two of you but you don’t get the chance. Unable (or perhaps unwilling?) to find the presence of mind to make your legs move before he reaches up to touch your hair again, you soon find yourself trapped between his arms. He’s got you caged in like this while he dutifully scrubs the shampoo away, evidently too committed to the task at hand to stand down even when a distant note of unmistakable fluster has settled across his normally stoic expression.

And as if Pandora’s Box had been effectively ripped open, like you couldn’t stop yourself now that you’d already looked once, your eyes start to wander. You take in his usually fluffy hair, now waterlogged and heavy across his brow, and the concentrated set of his mouth. Glancing lower, you can make out how well defined his chest and arms are, much more packed with muscle than one would expect from someone who, according to March, spent so much of his time in the databank room aboard the Express. You’d already seen him in action a handful of times though so it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. He was strong and his firm physique showed that. And even lower than that …

Your eyes widen at the sight of your breasts squished up against him. No wonder you’d felt that brush of skin on skin in such stunning high definition, even for as brief as it had been. What strikes you more than anything though is how soft and pliable your flesh looks shoved up against his. Where Dan Heng was hard with muscle and unrelenting, your chest was soft and invitingly malleable. A distant part of you innately understood that this was the physical difference between man and woman, the biological indicators of sex. It sparks something in the back of your mind and you fumble to grab hold of it, to comprehend what it means.

Your frantic internal grasping is interrupted when Dan Heng roughly clears his throat, prompting you to snap your attention up with a little jolt.

“Just what are you looking at?”

“N - nothing.” You stammer, suddenly embarrassed. You’re not entirely sure why you should feel hot with shame and something else you can’t quite put your finger on but there’s no denying it’s there. You couldn’t tell if you were about to wilt and wither, or bonelessly melt into him.

“I think I may have to take back what I said earlier.” He grumbles. “It might be preferable if you don’t look.”

“Wha - -“

You feel it then. A soft nudge against your lower belly that sends your heartbeat lurching into overdrive and your legs instantly turn limp like overcooked noodles. It’s an entirely instinctive reaction, one you don’t understand anymore than all of the other confusing happenings that have taken place in this hotel bathroom, but when you try to pull away to get a look at what’s tickling your bellybutton, he just clutches at you tighter to keep you in place.

“Please,” His voice is barely more than a hoarse whisper as he bends his head close, wincing even while he presses his damp forehead against yours. “Don’t move. Just … stay there until it goes away.”

His expression is wretched. Dark brows knitted to create a deep wrinkle between them, his eyes so pinched you could barely see the dull blue of his irises through thick lashes. It almost scares you. Almost makes you second guess the wisdom in sharing a shower with someone else. No, that wasn’t quite right.

It was a man you were bathing with and you were … a woman. That was what made this dangerous and ill advised. That was why he’d reacted the way he had at the start of all this. Oh, how terribly you had miscalculated the full scope of the situation.

It’s a struggle to swallow down your jittery nerves and find your voice but you finally manage, somehow. “Does it hurt, Dan Heng?”

“No.” He hisses, contradicting himself and what your eyes were clearly telling you. “This isn’t your fault or your problem. I should have been more cautious, that’s all. It’ll go away in time.”

You don’t think you very much like the sound of that. “But why? Why does it have to just go away if it’s making you uncomfortable? I can help you.”

Dan Heng sucks in such a sharp breath you can feel it rattling around inside his chest where you’re pressed right up against him. “Don’t say that.” He croaks. “You don’t know what it is you’re saying.”

“I can learn. You could teach me.”

“Dammit …!”

He stiffly shifts his weight then, redistributing his balance to the full center of his body. You got the distinct feeling he was trying to angle his pelvis away from you, to pull it out of reach where he could flag and soften without the close proximity of your body heat there to entice him. You rock with the motion though, follow the movement. Stay pressed against him and reach down with one hand to blindly feel for what was causing him such obvious distress.

Your wrist bumps against the stiff flesh jutting out from his body, making him groan very low in his throat. It’s easy to find now that you have a general idea and you carefully wrap your fingers around the width of him, surprised yet delighted to find the skin silky soft and smooth. He twitches in your hold and swells, getting harder. Rapidly filling the rest of the way out while Dan Heng holds himself so tightly that you think he might just shatter and break right before your very eyes. You can’t help it though. Not only was curiosity a very compelling factor here but you also cared about him a great deal. The thought of watching your friend and fellow crewmate suffer in silence right in front of you wrenches at your very heart and makes it hard to think rationally.

And it must be the same for Dan Heng too, because his fingers stay frozen in place as you feel along him. They remain buried in your hair, fervently clutching at your skull, as if you could be the lifeline that would save him but he continues to hold himself back for some reason. It’s hard to say if he’s scared of letting you go for fear of what he himself would do or because he feared what you might do to him with that freedom. He doesn’t try to stop you or pull away though. Just quietly seethes into the scant space separating you as you locate the bulbous head and give it a brief squeeze. That makes a tense shudder work through him, starting in the general vicinity of his hips before racing up to the rest of him. Distantly, you realize that he wants to roll his pelvis forward into the touch, to seek out more and bask in it, but he won’t.

“Why do you fight it, Dan Heng?”

He manages to choke out a mirthless laugh, though not without a good deal of effort. “We only just met not that long ago, for starters. It seems rude to act on such impulses given our brief rapport with one another.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Maybe I do.”

You don’t think you believe that. If he really meant it he would have put an end to it by now, or at least made a greater effort to do so. But he just stands there, softly panting while you follow the length of him down to the base where a thick patch of curls brushes against your knuckles. The weight of him in your hand is surprisingly satisfying and you just can’t seem to stop yourself from exploring him.

Twisting your hand downward, you find even more satiny soft skin waiting just below and you eagerly curl your fingers around that too. It’s incredibly pliant but he sucks in a sharp, gasping breath in response to being handled and your pulse erratically jumps with a start.

“Gentle. Those are — sensitive.”

“I’m sorry.” You murmur softly. “I could be a lot more careful if I could actually see what I was doing though.”

A low rumble starts up in his chest, so faint you almost miss it under the constant spray from the shower head. Your whole body flushes, warming to the point of real discomfort but he doesn’t give you enough time to fully process any of it. Not the unexpected noise or the curling tendril of wanting low in your stomach. Not even the fact that you were currently holding the full weight of his manhood in the palm of your hand.

To your genuine surprise, he starts to pull back. Extricates himself from you with exceedingly stiff motions that leave you fumbling for something to say. Another apology or perhaps a plea. You don’t know which and you never find out, because he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You have no choice but to comply as he guides you forward, pushing you almost right up against the interior wall of the shower and totally disregarding your mouse squeak protests while he does it.

“Stop hogging all the water.”

You open your mouth to snap back in response but all that comes out is a tiny little squawk of surprise when he pulls you back against him, moulding your wet back to the firm planes of his front. His hands drop to your waist then, taking bruising hold of your hips to press your lower body equally flush with his. There’s no mistaking the press of him now, the way it digs up into your lower back and slides into place along the middle seam of your backside like it naturally belonged there. It's as if you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe when he stiffly rolls his pelvis and grinds into you, somehow hesitant yet eager at the same time, before forcing himself to go still again.

“Sorry,” He says right into your ear, low and hushed, as the warm spray washes over both of you now. “I thought I could control myself better than this …”

“It’s okay.”

“It's not. You only just joined the Astral Express, not to mention you — the way we found you … it feels like I’m taking advantage of the situation but that was never my intention. I swear it.”

You understood what he meant even if he was reluctant to say it in quite so many words. There was a Stellaron inside of you but beyond that your identity was a complete unknown to everyone around you. Even you couldn’t say for sure who you were or who you’d once been, if you’d ever been anyone at all. That didn’t mean you were without your faculties though. You could still make decisions for yourself and take control of your own life. If that weren’t true then Himeko never would have given you the choice to join everyone on board the Express. This you knew to be true.

So you pointedly push back on him, meeting his next stiltedly reluctant thrust. Dan Heng’s fingers bite into the meat of your hips in return, clutching at you so desperately you half expect to find bruises blooming in the same spots later on. That doesn’t really matter right now though. What’s most important is not only helping him, alleviating the discomfort that so obviously pains him, but also proving your own autonomy. To him as much as to yourself.

“It’s okay, Dan Heng. You don’t have to hold back.”

Groaning softly in what you think must be relief, he huddles close and curls in tight against you. Nuzzles at your temple in a coaxing manner that makes you tip your head back towards him. Water runs down your face in heavy rivulets, matting your eyelashes together, but you pay it little mind. You’re much more interested in the way Dan Heng angles his mouth down and slots it against yours in a kiss that is equal parts tentative and demanding. The heightened state of his emotions is blatant in the hard press of his lips, the hungry pull that makes you want to submit and give him everything he could ever need or want. There’s a distant note of domination lurking under the surface of that heated exchange though, like he was innately drawn to claiming what he wanted for himself, but his level headed manners were still keeping him in check. That wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.

You quickly make your choice and bring your hands up to take firm hold of his blocky wrists, making sure he doesn’t try to escape. Not that you actually thought he would when both of you were already in this deep, haltingly moving in tandem against one another, but you didn’t want his polite niceties to get the better of him. He either doesn’t suspect a thing or he simply doesn’t care though, because he just keeps kissing you even when you go up on your tiptoes to make his cock drag down your ass. The height difference makes it a bit awkward, a bit unrefined, but you manage to successfully raise up enough to leave him nudging at the space between your legs.

And when you come down again, trapping him in the soft squeeze of your thighs, he gasps like you’d just electrocuted him. The sound rattles inside his chest where it’s pressed into your back but, still, he doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t tell you to stop. Rather, he drags his palms lower to grab two big handfuls of your upper legs and press them more tightly together around him. You nearly lose balance and tip over in this unnatural stance but a quick hand slapped against the damp wall steadies you.

“Careful. If you continue to push this much further …”

The warning in his voice is clear as day but you don’t really care. Not when you could feel the faint pulse of him between your thighs and he was lined up so perfectly with the seam of your cunt that you could feel your own internal pressure ratcheting up another notch. This wasn’t exactly familiar territory, this pulse pounding excitement that makes you dizzy with a need you don’t fully understand, but the instinctive urge to nudge your hips back and forth feels much too natural for you to truly question it. So you just do it.

And oh, how you’re rewarded by the simple slide of him along your slit. Hot, blinding sparks flash behind your eyes and you almost swoon right there in his arms, but you know you have to keep moving. Need to chase that pinprick ember of satisfaction just as much as he does, and Dan Heng only reinforces that when he pulls you back to meet the next enthusiastic thrust of his hips.

A gasp catches in your throat at the wet, meaty smack and lodges there as you tip your face down to look at yourself. Some of your hair slips forward with the motion, wet and clinging, but you hardly even notice it with so much of your attention focused on your own body. Your nudity hadn’t felt so stark before, when you were simply focused on bathing and occupying space with him wherein the two of you just so happened to be naked together. It’s so different now looking at it through the hazy lens of intimacy though, the sight of your tits bare and wet stoking the flames within you to even greater heights. Beyond that, over the soft curve of your stomach and lower still, you can just make out the thatch of hair covering the cradle of your pelvis. And beneath that his cock head nudges out from between your legs, blooming for but a brief moment before retreating back into the tight squeeze.

It was enough to nearly make your knees buckle and give out.

“Oohhn,” You hiss into the constant spray, swaying in his hold. “Dan Heng … that feels - -“

“Incredible.”

You let out a soft moan in agreement, rocking in time with his steady thrusts. The height difference was a good thing, actually. It ensured he stayed pressed up tight against you, constantly knocking your cunt with a fleshy jostle whether he was pulling out or pushing in. It was a continuous cycle of pleasurable shockwaves that quickly leaves you panting just as heavily as he is, and you eagerly writhe against him when the pressure just continues to build and build. You felt like you were going to implode in the most literal sense. What exactly had he done to you?

Had he even done anything at all, or was this just a natural result of your own needs mingling with his and feeding into one another? You couldn’t be sure. It was impossible to think straight when your cotton stuffed head was starting to spin alarmingly fast, but you decide that it doesn’t really matter either way. The drag of him against your cunt was enough. His possessive grip on your body was enough. There would be time to figure everything out later, after you’d properly taken care of each other, and you let yourself rock back into him with an accompanying groan that subtly rises in pitch at the tail end, basking in the litany of sensations.

“Can I —“ He suddenly blurts, choking on it. His fingers sink into your flesh so hard it starts to hurt and you let out a faint whimper while he struggles to reorient himself. “Can I … touch you?”

“Nnghn, ah - aren’t you already touching me?”

“More. I’d like to touch more of you, if you’ll permit it.”

You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breathing. He certainly wasn’t making it easy. “Ooh … please, please touch me, Dan Heng. I feel … I feel like I’m - -“

His hands immediately fly up off your hips and greedily latch onto your breasts instead, lifting the weight of them in his palms. You suck in such a haggard breath you feel like you just might pass out on the spot as you arch against him, throwing your head back into his shoulder. Water from the shower head mercilessly pelts against your face now but you can’t be bothered to lobby any complaints about it when he’s cupping your tits as if they were meant to fit right there in his hold. It’s perfect and sublime, and it just ratchets your own excitement up another notch, making you impotently shudder.

This pulse pounding feeling of cresting pleasure may have been foreign to you, but you could already see yourself becoming irreversibly addicted to it. Perhaps this was even more dangerous than you’d first realized.

“Oh! If you do that …”

“Does it hurt?”

“I — I don’t know.”

He noises a faint sound of confusion at your quiet whimper, his hands loosening around your chest. You’re acutely aware of the odd little look he gives you through the swirling steam but can’t quite bring yourself to turn your face away. Whatever this was, whatever it meant in the long run, you wanted more of it. Needed more of him.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

A small frown graces his lips. “But you just said - -“

“I know. But I don’t want you to stop.” Carefully, you lift your hand — the one not currently braced against the wall — and cover one set of Dan Heng’s knuckles with your fingers. They seem dainty resting against his like this. “It feels kind of funny but I don’t think it’s bad. I don’t really understand what it means but … I want you to keep doing it. Please?”

Groaning like you’d just sucker punched him right in the gut, Dan Heng leans further into you until his weight presses you down into a half stooped position. His skin sticks to your back and clings but this too feels good. His body heat bleeds into you, warming you up far more than the shower ever could have, and you eagerly squeeze the muscles in your legs to keep them locked in place. This time when he kneads your breasts it’s much more tentative and slow. He takes his time with it, just savoring the fleshy give, and you keen very softly when he at last nudges one index finger up to brush it over your nipple.

You can feel yourself sinking deeper into that hazy fog as he starts to move again. The restrained power behind his thrusts sends fresh bursts of static energy coursing through your system, further highlighting the sensitivity of your aching teats as you rock with him, luxuriating in the fleshy drag of his stiff length against your cunt.

Pap. Pap. Pap.

He keeps the rhythm slow and even, but so vigorous that it pushes you forward and makes your tits bounce in his hold. You experience everything in stunning high definition from the slick dampness that oozes out of you to smooth the glide of him between your legs right down to the simple sensation of water running across your skin. It’s overwhelming and somehow still not enough. You couldn’t even think straight let alone formulate a semi coherent sentence, your tongue lolling heavily inside your mouth as you shudderingly rear back into him just to feel that delicious friction again. And he takes it in stride, never faltering no matter how wild you get or how hard you shake as the tumultuous waves crest a little bit higher each time. The firm, unyielding planes of his pelvis meeting with your backside, harder, faster. The distant tickle of coarse pubic hair digging into the vulnerably soft flesh of your ass. Even the low, guttural sounds he makes against the side of your face. You were so close to drowning in all of it.

His thick, callous worn fingers curling up to finally pinch at your nipples is what really sends you over the edge though. The sudden jolt of pleasure so intense it rides the line of being painful almost makes you collapse right then and there, and you throw yourself back into him with mindless desperation. Your hips seem to move on their own even as you cry out for him, judderingly grinding yourself down on that rock hard length pressed up into you.

“Ooh, Dan Heng!”

“Please don’t say my name like that.” He quietly wheezes under his breath, still pinching at your breasts. Still pulling and tweaking, using his thumb to brush over them and flick the tightly coiled peaks back and forth. Your body was a livewire just waiting to detonate, and it doesn’t seem to escape his notice. It’s apparent in the way he’s so insistent with his ministrations, encouraging you to keep moving your cunt back and forth, back and forth against him with nothing more than the attention he gives your tits. He takes his time rolling them between the two pads to reward you for your efforts and he gives them a slow, encouraging tug any time your pace falters and you start to slow down.

It’s a vicious cycle that perfectly feeds into itself a hundred times over and keeps you balanced right on the precipice of some great, harrowing free fall. The world could have come to a sudden, fiery end at that very moment and you never would have noticed. All of your attention, your entire being, was for Dan Heng and only Dan Heng in that moment. His hands, his lips brushing your neck and your cheek when he nuzzles into you. The constant motion of his thighs flexing behind you, driving himself unendingly into the hot, damp spot between your legs. His taller, wider frame trembling against yours with all the pent up tension running through it that so perfectly mirrors your own.

You’d never felt anything like it before, and a very small voice in the back of your mind wonders if you’ll ever feel it again. Was this a once in a lifetime experience? A fleeting mercurial high that would disappear in a flash bang of white noise the second you tipped over into the awaiting abyss below?

If that was the case, if you were destined to bask in this dwindling euphoria once and only once in your lifetime, then you were determined to milk every last drop of enjoyment out of it while you could.

So you drop your hands and reach back, grabbing two biting fistfuls of Dan Heng’s narrow hips. Use the leverage to draw him in against you at a quicker pace, forcing him to snap his pelvis into your backside with greater ferocity. He issues a wounded, faltering grunt into the air but he doesn’t fight it. He hasn’t truly fought anything you’ve offered up to him on a silver platter, not once telling you ‘no’ since you first stepped foot into this bathroom together, and that knowledge sparks a simmering ember deep within your gut. It’s the taste of victory. Of conquest and self assured confidence that can only be achieved through the meeting of two compatible bodies.

You’re sure of it. Innately, or perhaps intrinsically, you just know that’s what it is.

“Oh, gods,” He rattles out, gritting through tightly clenched teeth while he fucks himself between your thighs, pistoning in and out of the tight squeeze like a jackhammer. “I’m so close — so close, I - I can’t hold it back anymore.”

You would’ve voiced your agreement if only you’d had the ability to do so. The breakneck speed at which he ruts into you effectively steals the air from your lungs though and it’s all you can do just to hold on, clutching at his powerfully flexing hips to ground yourself rather than to encourage him. He didn’t need more encouragement anyway. That one little nudge from you was more than enough and now he couldn’t quite seem to remember to be polite and gentle with you.

The wet smack of his pelvis slamming into your ass is now loud, almost defeaning, and it comes in rapid fire succession to damn near down out even the constant spray of the shower head. It just amplifies the already searing friction against your cunt until it seems to blur into a single, persistent tingle that just grows and grows to the point of delirium. He can’t help himself and neither can you. Not anymore.

“Dan Heng - -“

A truly bestial snarl snakes out of him. His fingers falter, slipping and sliding against your wet teats before adjusting to latch onto the bouncing meat of your breasts instead. What little bit of control he’d still been clinging to dissipates like dust in the wind, and he clings to you so hard it brings tears to your eyes. The demanding press of his fingers sinking into your flesh sends you over the edge with a sudden, lurching jolt as your pussy clenches up and squeezes uncontrollably against his length. Even when you wail out in high strung relief, trembling violently in the throes of your release, he just keeps humping into you like he’d die if he doesn’t chase his own pleasure quickly enough. That continuous drag over your slit just draws out your own involuntary spasms and you can’t help but cry out in oversensitized bliss even as you somewhat awkwardly twist in his arms to look down at yourself.

Numbly, you watch his flushed glans appear between the fleshy press of your legs, quickly disappear and then immediately reappear again just a split second later. He’s pounding into you so fast and so hard that the resulting shockwaves make your thighs jiggle slightly under the force. It’s incredibly fascinating to witness though and you stare at it in a trancelike stupor, barely even registering the pitchy moan he lets out right against your temple.

The next time his cock appears it’s with an eruption of creamy white discharge that shoots out to splatter across the floor and the wall, some of it smearing over the skin where the two of you are connected. Hissing like his soul is actively trying to leave his body, Dan Heng haltingly slows to a stiff roll of his hips that makes his length nudge back and forth just enough to drain the rest of his explosive release. Another healthy spurt rushes out of him and then a savory dribble quickly follows, thickly oozing from the tip to drip onto the floor between your feet. It’s over, just like that, and you blink rather owlishly down at the evidence of your illicit encounter as he heaves a deeply satisfied sigh of pleasure.

It’s a little hard to wrap your mind around what had just transpired, especially when you were still floating in the afterglow and well satiated, but you snap back into the moment when he carefully starts to straighten up. You hadn’t even realized he’d dropped into a partial crouch to better accommodate the height difference, and you turn in his hold to look back at him.

“Dan Heng … are you - -“

“We need to get out.” He cuts across you, back to being the same mild and polite Dan Heng you were used to, but at the questioning lift of your brows he sheepishly glances away. “The water is beginning to turn cold so we need to get out before you start shivering again. Otherwise that would completely defeat the purpose of doing this in the first place.”

Oh. You hadn’t even noticed, truth be told, but you shift to the side when he reaches around you to smack the faucet off. The room goes suddenly quiet, save the dull drip of water droplets running from the spout and two sets of deep breaths coming from you and him. You’d been so caught up in the moment that you hadn’t noticed that either but your heart was indeed pounding a wild rhythm against your chest, and you reach up to idly touch over your pulse. Wild and erratic, just like you’d felt leading up to that mind numbing crescendo.

What the hell had all that been?

“Let me get you a towel.” You hear him say, and you bring your head up in time to watch him flick the screen open with a sluggish motion.

“What about you? You didn’t even get to wash your hair.”

Dan Heng looses a soft bark of laughter as he steps out onto the waiting mat, giving you your first real look at his nude body. He’s all lean and svelte with a perfectly tapered waist and broad shoulders, and — he abruptly turns to face you without warning. You’re suddenly looking right at him. The cut lines of his pelvis and the perfect little bellybutton stamped right in the center of it; the damp mess of dark, dark hair crowning his softened cock and the unmistakable weight of it …

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel vaguely faint even as you smack a hand up to your mouth and quickly look away in embarrassment. You’d never seen one before. Or at least, you’re pretty sure you haven’t. That doesn’t exactly stop your body from reacting to it though and your knees turn instantly wobbly again to accompany the instinctive urge to touch him, taste him. To feel him moving inside of you with the same keen ferocity he’d shown your thighs. Gods, you were like some kind of pervert!

“After all that you’re finally getting shy?” He laughs, bemused, but you can’t quite bring yourself to lift your gaze again. The risk of jumping his bones seemed far too great for you to take that chance right now. But luckily for you, Dan Heng is much too conscientious to hold it over your head and you soon catch the sound of him shuffling for a towel just another moment later. “I’ll cover up if that will make you feel better but don’t think you’re going to get out of this without having a talk with me first. I meant it when I said I had no intention of taking advantage of you. This isn’t something we can just pretend never happened, you know.”

Cautiously slow, you peek over at him from the corner of your eye just in time to get one last good look at his tight backside before a towel slides into place around his waist. You may not have been able to see it anymore but that certainly wasn’t going to stop you from thinking about it well into the foreseeable future. Curse him and his gorgeous body. “Are you … upset that we did that?”

“Not at all. I only want to check in with you and find out what you want.”

Now that manages to throw you for a loop. “What do you mean? I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”

Sighing softly, Dan Heng pivots back around to face you again. “That’s precisely why. You obviously have no expectations in place and some men would probably try to take advantage of that to use you for sex. I’m not like that though. If you want to do this the right way then I would likewise be amenable to that possibility. If you want to keep things casual that’s fine too. And if you never want to see my face again … well, I couldn’t exactly blame you for that I suppose.”

Confusion marches rampant through your mind until the lightbulb abruptly clicks on. He was talking about taking responsibility for his actions. Of giving you the proper respect and courtesy of having a choice. Dan Heng clearly had no desire to withhold an actual relationship from you if that was what you wanted but he also wasn’t going to force it on you either. How interesting. How very — chivalrous of him.

Your heart gives a tiny little thump against your ribcage, and you smile over at him. Eager and pleased by this revelation, but a bit nervous too. Whoever would’ve thought something as benign as sharing a shower together out of necessity would end with talks of a potential future together.

“Is everyone on the Express as old fashioned as you are?”

He smiles back, gracing you with a small but no less frustratingly charming grin. “In this aspect, I’m afraid it’s just me. Think you're up for it?”

“Yeah, I think I might be.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#star rail #dan heng #dan heng x reader #self insert bullshit

236 notes · View notes